Those duties were love's natural sphere: As a descriptive poet, Mr. Street is to be highly commended. He not only describes with force and fidelity—giving us a clear conception of the thing described but never describes what, to the poet should be nondescript. He appears however not at any time to have been aware that mere description is not poetry at all. We demand creation - - ποίησις. About Mr. Street there seems to be no spirit. He is all matter substance what the chemist would call "simple substance" and exceedingly simple it is. As a commentator, Professor Anthon has evinced powers very unusual in men who devote their lives to the bortus siccus of classical lore. He has ventured to dismiss the pedant and looks en homme du monde upon some of the most valued of the literary monuments of antiquity. The abundant Notes to his Classics will do him lasting honor among all who are qualified to give an opinion of his labors, or whose good word and will he would be likely to consider as worth having. His accuracy is extreme. I would stand by his decision in any mere matter of classical fact, in preference to that of any man in Europe, or elsewhere. Some time ago, an attempt was made to injure his reputation by a charge of plagiarism, instituted in reference to his most important work, the Classical Dictionary; and urged against such a book, the accusation, from its mere silliness, was not easily rebutted. The Classical Dictionary is little more than a summary of facts, and these facts are the common property of mankind. Professor Anthon's accusers would have acted with equal wisdom in charging Legendre with robbing Euclid. The multitudinous quotations of the Classical Dictionary are made verbatim (unless where difference of opinion has induced alteration) without an attempt at giving the extracted matter an air of originality by merely re-writing it, which is but too common among compilers. And for this virtue he has been reviled. No doubt he would have given more satisfaction, in certain quarters, had he thought more of his own mere literary reputation, and kept his eye less steadily fixed on the true purpose of compilations such as he has undertaken -for the purpose of making a useful book. His talents, nevertheless, have long ago placed him in a position at which he is left free to pursue this good purpose in his own manner, without fear of injuring his character as an original writer, in the opinion of any one having sense enough to understand that there is a point at which originality ceases to be a matter of commendation. The only noticeable demerit of Professor Anthon is diffuseness, sometimes running into Johnsonism, of style. The best specimen of his manner is to be found in an analysis of the Life and Writings of Cicero, prefacing an edition of the orator's Select Orations. This analysis occupies about forty pages of the book, and is so peculiarly Ciceronian, in point of fullness, and in other points, that I have sometimes thought it an intended imitation of the Brutus, sive de Claris Oratoribus. at With the aid of a lantern, I have been looking again Niagara and other Poems" (Lord only knows if that be the true title) — but "there's nothing in it :" at least nothing of Mr. Lord's own nothing which is not stolen - or, (more delicately,) transfused transmitted. By the way, Newton says a great deal aboutfits of easy transmission and reflection,' and I have no doubt that " Niagara" was put together in one of these identical fits. VII. [Text: Graham's Magazine, November, 1846.] a I HAVE just finished the “ Mysteries of Paris work of unquestionable power a museum of novel and ingenious incidenta paradox of childish folly and consummate skill. It has this point in common with all the convulsive" fictions - that the incidents are consequential from the premises, while the premises themselves are laughably incredible. Admitting, for instance, the possibility of such a man as Rodolphe, and of such a state of society as would tolerate his perpetual interference, we have no difficulty in agreeing to admit the possibility of his accomplishing all that is accomplished. Another point which distinguishes the Sue school, is the total want of the ars celare artem. In effect the writer is always saying to the reader, "Now -in one moment - you shall see what you shall see. I am about to produce on you a remarkable impression. Prepare to have your imagination, or your pity, greatly excited.” The wires are not only not concealed, but displayed as things to be admired, equally with the puppets they set in motion. The re sult is, that in perusing, for example, a pathetic chapter in The Mysteries of Paris 1 Of the solar rays we say to ourselves, with in the "Optics." out shedding a tear —“Now, here is something which will be sure to move every reader to tears. The philosophical motives attributed to Sue are absurd in the extreme. His first, and in fact his sole object, is to make an exciting, and therefore a saleable book. The cant (implied or direct) about the amelioration of society, etc., is but a very usual trick among authors, whereby they hope to add such a tone of dignity or utilitarianism to their pages as shall gild the pill of their licentiousness. The ruse is even more generally employed by way of engrafting a meaning upon the otherwise unintelligible. In the latter case, however, this ruse is an afterthought, manifested in the shape of a moral, either appended (as in Æsop) or dovetailed into the body of the work, piece by piece, with great care, but never without leaving evidence of its after-insertion. The translation (by C. H. Town) is very imperfect, and, by a too literal rendering of idioms, contrives to destroy the whole tone of the original. Or, perhaps, I should say a too literal rendering of local peculiarities of phrase. There is one point (never yet, I believe, noticed) which, obviously, should be considered in translation. We should so render the original that the version should impress the people for whom it is intended, just as the original impresses the people for whom it (the original) is intended. Now, if we rigorously translate mere local idiosyncrasies of phrase (to say nothing of idioms) we inevitably distort the author's designed impression. We are sure to produce a whimsical, at least, if not always a ludicrous, effect for novelties, in a case of this kind, are incongruities oddities. A distinction, of course, should be observed between those peculiarities of phrase which appertain to the nation and those which belong to the author him all self-for these latter will have a similar effect upon nations, and should be literally translated. It is merely the general inattention to the principles here proposed, which has given rise to so much international depreciation, if not positive contempt, as regards literature. The English reviews, for example, have abundant allusions to what they call the "frivolousness of French letters an idea chiefly derived from the impression made by the French manner merely this manner, again, having in it nothing essentially frivolous, but affecting all foreigners as such (the English especially) through that oddity of which I have already assigned the origin. The French return the compliment, complaining of the British gaucherie in style. The phraseology of every nation has a taint of drollery about it in the ears of every other nation speaking a different tongue. Now, to convey the true spirit of an author, this taint should be corrected in translation. We should pride ourselves less upon literality and more upon dexterity at paraphrase. Is it not clear that, by such dexterity, a translation may be made to convey to a foreigner a juster conception of an original than could the original itself? The distinction I have made between mere idioms (which, of course, should never be literally rendered) and local idiosyncrasies of phrase," may be exemplified by a passage at page 291 of Mr. Town's translation: "Never mind! Go in there! You will take the cloak of Calebasse. You will wrap yourself in it," etc., etc. These are the words of a lover to his mistress, and are meant kindly, although imperatively. They |