Nor can the general handling of the theme of the book be said to be well done. The biographer has swallowed the philosopher. While we are sometimes interested in personal details, we more frequently regret the want of a comprehensive analysis of the poet’s character, and of the age in which he lived. The book has no doubt filled, in a certain unsatisfactory manner, a blank in our biographical literature—since the authorities referred to can scarcely be termed accessible—but, upon the whole, it is unworthy Thomas Campbell—still less is it worthy Petrarch. We cannot say with Crébillon— —————_un dessein si funeste,_ _S’il n’est digne d’Atrée, est digne de Thyeste._ * * * * * _The Idler in France._ By the Countess of Blessington. _Two Volumes. Philadelphia: Carey and Hart._ The Countess of Blessington has never risen in any of her literary attempts above the merit of an amusing gossiper; and “The Idler in France” is an excellent gossiping book, and no more. Still, this is saying a good deal for it as times go. The work is made up of adventures, reminiscences, trumpery philosophy, criticism in a small way, scandal, and heterogeneous chit-chat—the whole interwoven, in the most random manner conceivable, into an account of a tour in France made many years ago by her ladyship. “Patch Work” is a title which would have exactly suited the volumes, and it is a pity that Captain Hall has anticipated it. The anecdotes, _et cetera_, are by no means confined to France, but often relate to things in general, happening in no particular place. Throughout, there is much vivacity and no little amusement. Some of the scandal, if not _nice_, is exceedingly piquant, and many of the humorous points are really good. The Countess tells an old story of the Princesse de Talleyrand, which will better bear repetition than _some_ of the novelties of the work. Denon was to dine at Talleyrand’s at a time when the Baron’s work on Egypt was the common topic in Paris. The Prince wished the Princess to read a few pages of the book, that she might be able to say some words of compliment to the author. He consequently ordered his librarian to send the work to her apartment on the morning of the day of the dinner; but unfortunately also commanded that a copy of Robinson Crusoe should be sent to a young _protégée_ of hers who resided in the hotel. Denon’s work, by mistake, was given to Mademoiselle, and Crusoe to the Princess, who, at dinner, expressed graciously to the Baron the delight she had received from his publication, and propounded many anxious inquiries after the fate of his poor man, Friday! Upon such subjects as are embraced in the following passages, the Countess is particularly at home:—