Histoire Critique et Militaire des Guerres de la Révolution :-Critical and Military History of the Wars of the Revolution. By General Jomini, Aid-de-Camp of the Emperor of of Russia. Part I. 6 vols. 8vo. with an Atlas. Paris. 65 francs.

This is the completest work ever offered to the public on the subject of a struggle, which will ever present a bold and prominent feature in the annals of history. The author, indeed, has taken a most extensive scope in designing the plan of his history; for the part already published, though it contains six volumes, is confined to the campaigns of 1792, 1793, and 1794.

The author might properly prefix to this work the expression which the Roman poet put into the mouth of his hero,

-quæque ipse miserrima vidi

Et quorum pars magna fui;

for he has evidently engaged in the work as a person strongly interested in every thing he relates. He is always full of his subject, and always describes as a real actor, not as a philosophic observer. His thoughts are bold, and not biassed by any influence but that of truth; yet the ardour of his imagination seems to have led him beyond the rigid limits which the severer laws of historical writing allow. It is the business of the historian to proceed immediately to his object, and never to wander from the direct course into the smiling retreats and captivating bowers, which the arts and sciences, the representations of fancy, and the creations of poetry, have scattered around it. More skilled in the science of the sword than in that of the pen, he has not attained that happy art which knows how to concentrate profound ideas, and to throw them into that concise and picturesque form which gives them energy and splendour in an equal degree. He also wants the rapid simplicity, the imperatoria brevitas of Cæsar, in his commentaries, and of Bonaparte in his instructions;-a rapidity so suitable to the language of a general who gives an account of his military labours. It must not, however, be denied, that though he is far from having attained the elegance and simplicity of the models which have been left us by the ancients, though he is seldom chastely classical in his style, he possesses, notwithstanding, some qualities that must greatly recommend him to public no

tice. He is dignified and noble in the recital of events, animated in the deengagements, and luminous in his descriptions of military evolutions and scriptions of the plans and manœuvres of a campaign.

The critical and military history of General Jomini is not merely a recital of operations carried on by stratagem. The author has evidently felt, that the success of battles has a necessary connexion with the progress of political events; and he endeavours to make us feel the existence of this connexion during the campaigns of which he treats, and even during the period which immediately preceded it. His political views are, in general, comprehensive and profound, two qualities which particularly designate the author's talent. The opinions which he advances on the motives of action, and the events to which they gave rise, are proofs of great wisdom and impartiality.

We dwell upon these evidences of merit, feeling as we do, that, they are qualities which are rarely met with in those, who treat of the important events of the French Revolution.

De la Revolution Piedmontaise, &c. -Of the Revolution of Piedmont. Second edition, revised, corrected, and enlarged, by an Analysis of the Sicilian Constitution. 1 vol. 8vo. Paris, 1822.

This work, the first edition of which was sold in eight days, is attributed to the Count de Santa Rosa, minister of war at Piedmont, during the revolution of 1821. This historic document is the more valuable as the author treats in it of many persons who were opposed to him in the ranks of war, with a a degree of frankness and impartiality which is seldom met with in those who attach to a party that suffers under oppression. themselves to a party, and particularly

ancient political organization of Sicily, its constitution in 1813, and the want of stability in its present political state. Some portion of the third volume is bestowed on the sciences in particular, and on the Sicilians who have shed lustre upon them by their works. The work concludes with general observations on volcanos, and a summary of Sicilian history. What appears most interesting in this work is the journey to Mount Etna, and the observations to which it gave rise; and the feeblest parts are, perhaps, the proper history of Sicily itself. His description of Etna, however, is not only characterized by elegance of language, but calculated to inspire us with sublime emotions.

Bracebridge Hall; or, the Humourists. By Geoffrey Crayon, Gent. 2 vols. 8vo. 24s. London, 1822.

We cannot perceive why the explanatory title of "The Humourists" should be superadded to this work, as there is not one humourous character described in it from beginning to end. They are all such characters as are every day met with in the country parts of England, particularly such parts as are most excluded from an intercourse with London, and the principal cities, where the strong and picturesque features of old English manners can seldom be traced through the softer aspect of modern elegance and refinement. There is nothing picturesque or characteristic in refined manners, and, therefore, they are but ill adapted to painting or poetry, because they present no feature sufficiently prominent to attract particular notice.Even if refined manners were painted to the life, there could be little interest excited by the portrait, because all the features so perfectly harmonize with each other, that none of them can command particular attention, as each of them seems to possess an equal claim to

our regard. There is nothing principal, nothing secondary, and they all present themselves as a perfect whole. As a marked countenance is much easier painted than a beautiful face, so are rustic and vulgar much easier painted than elegant manners. But though the manners of a clown or a country gentleman may appear sufficiently awkward and ridiculous to us, we consider neither of them as a humourist, nor do they appear so to each other. But while we object to the title, we are far from quarrelling with the execution of the work before us. To deny its merits, would be to acknowledge ourselves devoid of all taste and feeling. The characters described in "Bracebridge Hall" present us with the most beautiful, and, at the same time, with the most faithful models of primitive English manners, judging of them from the remains which are still among us, and which, in many parts of England, may not become extinct for centuries to come. The author has sketched his portrait of these manners from the inmates of "Bracebridge Hall," its occasional visitors, and the neighbouring inhabitants, and we have no hesitation in saying, that he has fully supported

the character which his "Sketchbook" has already so deservedly procured for him. He may be justly called, "the American Bruyere," with the only difference, that Bruyere described the manners of his own countrymen, while our author has painted those of a country, in which he acknowledges himself to be still a stranger. In picturesque description, however, he leaves Bruyere far behind him. Even Sterne did not possess the art of exciting imagination in so powerful a manner. In the de

scription of the "Stout Man," attention and expectation is kept continually on the wing; and when the picture is completed, we know as little what to make of the "Stout Man" as when he was first introduced to us. This was admirably conceived, and proves our author a perfect master in his art.— Painting could produce no such effect, and we recollect no instance of it even in poetry. His description of "A Wet Sunday in a Country Inn," is in the finest style of picturesque colouring. We cannot forbear presenting it to our readers." The rain pattered against the casements; the bells tolled for church with a melancholy sound. I went to the windows in search of something to amuse the eye, but it seemed as if I had been placed completely out of the reach of all amusement. The windows of my bed-room looked out among tiled roofs and stacks of chimnies, while those of my sitting-room commanded a view of the stable-yard. The place was littered with wet straw that had been kicked about by travellers and stable.boys. In one corner was a stagnant pool of water, surrounding an island of muck; there were several half-drowned fowls crowded together, under a cart, among which, was a miserable, crest-fallen cock, drenched out of all life and spirit; his drooping_tail matted, as it were, into a single feather, along which the water trickled from his back. Near the cart, was a half-dozing cow, chewing the cud, and standing patiently to be rained on, with wreaths of vapour rising from her reeking side. A wall-eyed horse, tired of the loneliness of the stable, was poking his spectral head out of a window, with the rain dripping on it from the eaves. An unhappy cur chained to a dog-house hard by, uttered something every now and then between a bark and a yelp. A drab of a kitchen-wench tramped backwards and forwards through the yard in pattens, looking as sulky as the weather itself. Every thing, in short, was comfortless and forlorn, except a crew of hard-drinking ducks

assembled like boon companions round

a puddle, and making a riotous noise over their liquor."

There are few writers of the day perfectly free from the use of hacknied, modern phrases; but in the author of "Bracebridge Hall" we cannot trace even a vestige of them. In one instance, he uses the term, "it was quite refreshing," but adds, in a parenthesis (if I may be allowed a hacknied phrase of the day.) His style s that of natural and unaffected eloquence. Not only his ideas, but his expressions, seem to flow spontaneously from his pen, nor is it possible to trace the slightest appearance of labour or effort. The style of the "Sketch-book" was easy and eloquent, compared to that of other writers, but yet it wanted the freedom of "Bracebridge Hall," a circumstance which we can only attribute to that facility of expression which is obtained by experience and practice. His delineation of manners is so faithfully executed, that we always imagine we are acquainted with the person whom he is describing, or at least with some person of the same original stamp of character. The expressions which he puts into the mouth of General Harbottle after dinner, whose loyalty, he says, waxes very fervent with his second bottle, and who gets into a perfect ecstasy when he hears "God save the King," exposes, more than all the logic of political wisdom, the motives which influence those who argue against the existence of public distress. "They talk of public distress," said the General this day to me at dinner, as hẹ smacked a glass of rich Burgundy, and cast his eyes about the ample board; "they talk of public distress, but where do we find it, Sir? I see none. I see no reason any one has to complain. Take my word for it, Sir, this talk about public distress is all humbug."

The great merit of "Bracebridge Hall" is the exquisite delineation of character, or rather of manners. It is evident the author intended his character of "Ready-money Jack Tibbets" for a portrait of John Bull; and, if the portrait be correct, we must confess, that John Bull, with all his bluntness, is far from being placed beyond the influence of vanity, particularly where he leaves his breeches unbuttoned at the knees, to shew a broad pair of scarlet garters. He has so many good qualities, however, that his vanity only serves to prevent us from falling completely in love with him. We shall conclude by observing, that our author

is no where a copyist; that he takes his images and descriptions from nature alone, and that he always views nature with the inspired eyes of painting and poetry. In "Bracebridge Hall," therefore, Tout prends un corps, une ame, un esprit, un visage.”

The Vale of Chamouni, a Poem By the Author of "Rome." 8vo. pp. 176. 6s. 6d.

The reader is naturally led to expect, from the title of the present work, a descriptive poem, in which he will be led through all the secret retreats, and romantic wildernesses of nature. He will expect to wander promiscuously through those sublime, beautiful and picturesque scenes which she has scattered with lavish hand over certain portions of the globe, and to return from his poetic excursion laden with all the treasures which imagination can bestow. "The Vale of Chamouni,” or, indeed, any vale forming the subject of a poem, naturally leads the mind through a labyrinth of rural associations, and descriptive scenery; but in one half of the poem before us, and in the entire of the introduction, the external beauties of nature are seldom presented to the wistful eye of imagination; and we are obliged to be contented with narratives as little related to each other, as the proscriptions of Sylla to the loves of Pyramis and Thisbe. We can perceive no connection between the links that connect two different scenes or relations together; and we revolt at the unnatural manner in which we are thrust forward, and obliged to wade through the recital of circumstances and events, which have as little connection with the "Vale of Chamouni," or with each other, as those which we have just mentioned. The author prefaces his poem with a poetical introduction of four hundred and four lines, supposed to be written at Inverness. The chief and prevailing fault of this poem is, that there is no obvious connection between its different parts; that every time the subject changes, it changes capriciously; that the prevailing idea in one part, section, or paragraph, does not suggest that which immediately follows; and that, consequently, every paragraph seems a distinct poem in itself. The entire of the introduction is a series of unconnected thoughts; and the whole of them put together has no connection with the "Vale of Chamouni." Indeed, the only Eur. Mag. Vol. 82.

sensible lines in the entire introduction are six, which he puts into the mouth of his reader by way of objection to his winding and irrelevant manner. We could never have imagined that it was to serve as a preface to a description of a Vale in Savoy, as almost the entire of it is taken up with Scotland, and

"The splendour of the Caledonian arms."

The poem itself begins with an address, not to Apollo, or any of his daughters, nor indeed to any sentient or intelligent being, but to his own" shattered bark!" by which we are unhappily to understand his own poetical genius; that genius which guided him in his former attempt. His "Rome" he thinks has been so severely treated by the critics, that his poetical bark has been, shattered by their rudeness, He seems to wonder, however, that so well built a bark could suffer wreck, and therefore introduces her shattered condition with a note of admiration,-“ Poor-, shattered bark!" He comforts her, however, by telling her that she was superior to all the storms that opposed her course; if so, we are at some loss to discover by what means she was "shattered."

The poet, after contemplating the injuries which he had received from the critics in his former poetic attempt, turns to Switzerland, and takes an opportunity of lamenting the evils of slavery. The author is a strong advocate for liberty; but yet there is a levity in his muse which we cannot easily reconcile with that sacred flame which freedom inspires. He skips about perpetually, without rhyme or reason, so that he seldom produces a deep effect. He has evidently a talent for rhyming, for his versification is smooth, and seems. to be executed with great facility; but what he has gained in facility, he has lost in dignity. He gives a very pleasing description of the "capricious taste" exemplified in the costume of the Helvetians, and of prospects from Ferney and the Jura Mountains; but in the entire of the first part of his poem, which forms half the work, he never leads us once to the " Vale of Chamouni," which is the proper subject of his song. All this part is preparatory to an arrival at the Vale, and in most parts as little connected with it as the introduction. To this, however, we have no other objection than its disagreeing with the title of the work, for the poet leads us occasionally through a variety of pleasing scenes and interesting relations, which

H

are suggested by other parts of Switzerland. Nor are we merely entertained with descriptive scenes and beautiful landscapes, but the persons whom they commemorate are also introduced to us, and agreeably diversify those pictures of external nature which the poet describes, and which would otherwise possess too still and sombre a character to give any permanent plea sure. The poet has therefore very artfully, but at the same time very judiciously, made Voltaire, Madame de Stael, Gibbon, Rousseau, Frederic Eschen, &c. appear in different parts of his painting, so that he leads us very agreeably through Bonneville, Cluse, Cavern of Balme, Groves of Magland, Cascade of Balme, the Savoyard, &c. till he brings us within the sight of the "Vale of Chamouni."

Our limits oblige us to leave our poet and our readers at the entrance of this sublime and awful vale. Such of them as love the grand and the terrific of nature must peruse this part of the poem with mingled astonishment and delight. The poet has certainly divested himself of a great portion of that levity of manner which characterizes his introduction particularly. He seems to have written the last part of his poem, or the description of the vale itself, under the awful impressions, which the surrounding scenes are calculated to inspire in every breast, that responds to the influences and harmonies of the sublimer productions of nature. This is no slight evidence of rising genius. The dunce, and the writer of heavy intellect, puts forth all his energies at the first onset, and afterwards sinks into tame insipidity; but the writer of native genius, though in his first attempts he betrays at every step the faults, which unavoidably cling to inexperience and want of maturer judgment, still rises progressively in strength and vigour, and gives new interest to every scene and situation which he describes. The defects of the work before us result, we believe, from this source alone; it has many beauties to compensate for its faults, and even its faults contain latent evidences of the author's genius, and prove themselves to be only the blameless offspring of inexperience.

Tracts by Sir Thomas Browne, Knight, M.D. 12mo. pp. 183. Edinburgh, 1822.

The work before us does not contain all the productions of Sir Thomas

Browne. His "Pseudodoxia Epidemica, or Vulgar Errors," his "Quincunx," and "Religio Medici," have been properly omitted by the editor of the present edition, the former being too long to appear, except in a complete edition of his works; and the latter too apt to create sceptical views of things which, even if ideal, constitute a great portion of our real happiness; and which consequently it can be neither wisdom nor philosophy to explode, could even their inexistence be mathematically demonstrated. There is another reason why we think that the tracts contained in this edition have been selected with great judgment by the present editor, namely, because it is from these very tracts that Sir Thomas Browne has been justly called the most extraordinary writer in the English language. His other works are not of so unique and determined a character, and in perusing them, we cannot always discover from the style alone, that they are his productions. They are not like the present tracts, a mirror that always reflects a faithful picture of the original. Here he is always himself, and we can never mistake him for any other English writer. His singularity appears as well in his style as in his manner of thinking. We are always at a loss to know whether he is serious or in jest ; for even when he is evidently jesting, he puts on a serious face, and addresses us so gravely, that we can hardly think him otherwise than in earnest. there is no obscurity in his style: his diction is always so clear and perspicuous, that he who runs may read. But though his style is clear, it is still as characteristic of him as his manner of thinking. He is full of elisions, so full, indeed, that it is impossible to omit a word in any sentence which he has not omitted himself.

Yet

In

To a reader not accustomed to this style, it may possess a slight degree of obscurity at first; but we only read a few pages when this obscurity vanishes, and we are only surprized to meet with a verb where it could be omitted. imitation of the Latins, he is fond of the inverted style, and has a good deal of Montaigne in his manner of thinking, except that he always keeps to his subject more or less, while Montaigne frequently takes us into a new world altogether. They agree however in this, that Montaigne is always seeking for objections to what he advances himself, while Sir Thomas is eternally qualifying his assertions by the intro. duction of some unexpected idea, that always serves to render them more