The truth may be, perhaps, that Mr Alston ran ashore, like many a good fellow before him, while trying to steer two courses at once. Perhaps he began, with a serious design, to manufacture some "godlike poetry:" pushed on, with tolerable success, until he took fire;-when, afraid of being laughed at, he put himself out. We have known many such catastrophes. People begin seriously: say something, by and by; or do something, very extravagant-just on the confines of the ridiculous—just balancing between sublimity and burlesque —when, afraid of having it caricatured, or misrepresented, or mistakenor tilted over, into the gulph, by another, they even tilt it over themselves, and have the credit of it: like smugglers, who, when the duties are high, and the informer is well paid, inform against themselves, and make money by the job; or, perhaps, Mr Alston began the poem in a frolic; worked away, helter-skelter, until he had written something more seriously than he desired—and much better than he wished: when, like many a living author, whom we could name,—without patience or self-denial enough to preserve the idea, till it would come in play-discretion enough to throw it aside altogether; or dexterity enough to interweave it, without spoiling the whole piece—he lugs it in, to the ruin of his original plan. Some poets, afraid of being caricatured by others, take the trouble to caricature themselves. If they run their head against a post, they always begin the laugh. If they do anything very foolish, they know well enough, that if they don't tell of it, somebody else will. Thus Homer, after his absurd comparison of armies to bees-protected himself by his frogs and mice. Thus Cowper, in his "Task, and "Gilpin,” laid an anchor to windward. Thus M. G. Lewis, in his "Giles Jollop the grave, and the Brown Sally Greene," secured himself, and all his admirers, for ever, from eternal ridicule.—It reminds us of a friend's advice-" If you ever offer yourself to a woman," said he, "do it so, that if she refuse you, she herself shall never be able to tell whether you were in earnest or not.”So, too, with Lord Byron. What is Beppo-what is Don Juan, but a caricature of Childe Harold?-the very point on which that incoherent poem was most vulnerable. And Mr Moore's criticism on his Lallah Rookh, put into the mouth of Fadladeen-what was that, but offering himself in such a way, that, if he were rejected, we should never know whether he were serious or not?You are surprised. We could mention fifty more of these contrivances, to escape accounta bility and ridicule. -Point us out a single writer, of any age-if you can -who has not been guilty of them ;or one, who has not been diverted from his original design, by accidental thoughts-rhymes-or mistaken scratches of a pen ;—like a painter, by a blot; a captain, or a chess-player, by an accidental move. Point us out a single one, who, when he is waggishly disposed, can bear to lose an eloquent or affecting passage, if it pop into his head; or one, who, when he is running before the wind-with absolute poetry-every sail set-has enough self-denial to hold on his way, in spite of a joke: one who-if it be good for anything, will not find a place for it sooner or later—as he would, in chase, for a man overboard —for drift wood, with great carbuneles growing to it—or for a dolphin tumbling in his wake. Long after the appearance of the "Paiut King," Mr Alston wrote some lines upon the Peak of Chimborazo, in which was one passage of extraordinary power. He describes it, after nightfall,-overtopping the other mountains-rejoicing in the sun-set-and luminous with royalty. · “Thou of the purple robe and diadem of gold!" he says:-a line worth his "Paiut King,"-the whole of it forty times over. Let no man venture to pronounce positively upon the first movements of genius.-It is very painful to us-of course to allude again to the Edinburgh castigation of Lord Byron, (a castigation, by the way, that made Lord Byron; but for that, he would, probably, have lived, and been forgotten: that stung him into "convulsive life;") but we would warn everybody on this point. It is in the history of all extraordinary men. All have endured a like trial. They are all exposed, in their infancy, to a seasoning like that of the Spartan children. It is fatal to the weak-none but the offspring of the giants can outlive it. H. K. White perished. Mr Alston, himself, had a picture shown to him one day. "What is your opinion?-speak freely, I pray you,” said a person to person to him. Mr A. declined. He was really unwilling. The other insisted-" It was the work of a young friend. He must have Mr A.'s opinion." "Well, then," said he-" well, then, to deal plainly with you-it is a wretched affair. There is no ground for hopenot even for hope. Let him give up the idea. He never can make a painter."-"It was painted by yourself.""No!-impossible."-" It was- -look -there is your name; and here-see -here is the date-only seven years ago, you perceive." Another warning to those, who give out a rash judgment upon the youthful. Many a brave heart has been broken by the hasty word of a critic; and many a critic has persevered-like the lawgivers of the Medes and Persiansin maintaining every decree-right or wrong, after it had once gone forth. Mr Leslie, himself, is another example. While he was yet an apprentice, in a book store, his mother, finding that his heart was fixed upon drawing, consulted with Mr Rembrandt Peale, the historical and portrait painter. "No," said Mr Peale, who is a man of ten thousand, for honesty-" no, madam. Ours is a miserable business, at best. There is nothing remarkable in these little sketches by your son. Advise him to give up the notion altogether: Discourage him. Even, if he should succeed: if he should be able to paint as good a picture as I do-he will only be, as I am-after a long life of labour, miserably poor." Such was the effect of this advicewell meant, and seriously given-that Mr Leslie returned, like a galley slave, to the counter; and remained quiet, for a whole year. His nature broke out anew, then: he made some fine sketches (of Cooke and Cooper the actors :) excited attention: His master tore up his indentures-let him go free; and a purse was made up, to send him over the waters, for education. Critics, beware. Michael Angelo and the statue of the broken arm: the "speaking picture:" the horse of Appelles-of which the horse of Alexander was a better judge than Alexander himself: the picture in the market-place, daubed all over, one day, for its beauty, by the critics; and all over, the next, for its faultiness, by the same critics: the Chatterton papers: the Shakspeare papers (by a boy of seventeen :) the Angerstein picture, chosen, we believe, by Mr West and Sir Thomas Laurence: What are all these, but so many warnings to you? BARLOW JOEL. Author of the CoLUMBIAD, a prodigious poem, with nothing in it so bad-so miserably badas one may find in almost every page of Milton: with many passages, which, if such kind of poetry were not entirely done with, in this world-and for ever (we hope)-would be thought very good: and-and-and that is all. We can't, for our souls, work out another word in favour of the poem-whatever we may, concerning the poet-who was really a very good sort of a manvery honest-and very American: although he did give up the ghost at the chariot-wheels of Napoleon Buonaparte while tugging after him, in his Russian expedition. BARTON, Dr. A writer of considerable merit; and author, among other works, of one, upon MEDICAL BOTANY, the reputation of which is high, among men of science. BELKNAP, Dr. A theologian, we believe. This gentleman has written a History of New Hampshire, one of the six New England States, in three vols. 8vo. It is a large, faithful, heavy, tiresome compilation, which anybody may read-if he can-without peril to his orthodoxy. A long time ago, one Mr Plumer, a lawyer-but, we believe, a very honest man-undertook to get up a history of the state (of which, by the way, he has been governor, since) in better style. He has been about it something like half a century: the state, we should observe, contains about 240,000 inhabitants: and being a very shrewd, positive, conscientious, clear-headed, perpendicular old gentleman-who puts down just so much as he can swear to, and no more, the probability is, that by the end of another half century, or thereabouts, he will have made a book, entirely worthy of his native state. But he must work hard; or he won't keep up with the alterations. BENEZET, ANTHONY. This benevolent creature-the Howard of America-wrote a little work a long time ago, called, "Some Historical Account of Guinea." The abolition of the slave trade-with all the reasons for that abolition, which are now used-may be traced up to the writings of this man. But, we can go still farther back, in the history of America, to show that her people were the first who set their faces-and lifted up their voices-in opposition to slavery. George Keith was a formidable adversary of the slave-dealers (OUR slave-dealers, who supplied all North America with slaves) — about one hundred and forty years ago. He has been followed by a multitude of American writers, many of whom (as Benezet, Rush, Lay, Sandiford, Woolman, and others) made open war upon the slave trade, and slavery, long and long before Great Britain had stirred, hand or foot, in the work of abolition or emancipation. -Even Denmark was before Great Britain, by many years-Lord Castlereagh, to the contrary, notwithstanding and Massachusetts preceded her, by more than one hundred and fifty years. In the "Massachusetts Historical Collections," (volumes of extraordinary value, on every account) a paper will be found, on the subject of slavery, in Massachusetts. It was written by Dr Belknap, just mentioned. BIGELOW-Author of a late work on the MEDICAL BOTANY of North America. The plan was comprehensive: and the parts, which we have met with, accidentally, have been worthily done. The undertaking and execution are honourable to the country. BLUNT, EDMUND M.-Blunt's" NAVIGATOR," we have heard of; but do not know it. His "COAST PILOT," however, we know to be the result of a profound acquaintance with seamanship, and practical navigation. It should be, and we believe is, in the hands of every navigator upon the North American coast. BOTANY. The writers upon Botany, in the United States, with two or three exceptions, (Drs Barton and Bigelow, for example,) are mere pamphleteers, compilers, and elementary book-makers. Botany is lectured about, all over the country: the very women and children can prattle upon it-superficially-which is about all that anybody else can (with half-a-dozen exceptions) from Georgia to Maine :— Yet, all North America, to a thorough-going disciple of Linnæus, were little else than one great botanical VOL. XVI. garden.-It was in contemplation, some years ago, when party spirit ran high, in that country, to establish a sort of asylum for transplanted rarities-under the name of a Botanical Garden-at Washington city. Mr Clay was then Speaker of the House; and -very much in earnest, his countrymen thought-while manoeuvring for the Presidential chair.-WE had some suspicion of his purpose: and, by way of proving it-sent him a small packet of rare and valuable seeds, for his own use: offering, at the same time, if they would establish any such garden, to furnish a manager without expense.—Mr Clay talked beautifully upon the subject-but never did anything more. The nation had a paroxysm of economy about that time; and Mr Clay was unwilling to hazard a proposition concerning the garden. We happen to know a French gentleman (Monsieur Le Roy) who, in his great zeal for the propagation of rare and useful plants, in Americawent over a part of the United States (Maryland, Virginia, and the district of Columbia)-distributing valuable seeds and specimens, among the farmers, gentry, and men of science.-To what effect?-Hear his own words. Keep in mind, that he was an old man-exceedingly respectable—a man of integrity and great science-a philanthropist, in the wide, and full sense of the term :-that the seeds and specimens, of which we speak, were obtained, by himself, personally, on application to his friend, the manager of the National Garden at Paris: and that he gave them away to anybody and everybody, who would undertake to try them." Sair," said he—with tears in his eyes-while speaking to 66 ourself,""Sair, I shall say to you. When I—I, myself—come again -how you think I find him (the seeds)-diable !—jess where I leave him. I am so provoke-How you find tat?"It was very true. Not one out of twenty perhaps, to whom he had given these rarities, had ever taken the trouble to open the parcel, after his back was turned. Professors of Botany-as of everything else are plenty enough, all over the United States. Some, however, are quite respectable. They have one at Haward University, a Mr Nuttal, (from Yorkshire, England,) whose knowledge of the North American ve 4 C this opportunity of explaining. Mr Cleaveland's MINERALOGY is the best work of the kind, in the world. It is adopted as a text-book, in certain of the German universities. It is not well known here; but, wherever it is known, is deservedly appreciated. About six years ago, he undertook a treatise upon CONCHOLOGY; but has been too poor-too miserably poorwe believe, to complete his design. His pay, if we recollect rightly, is about 700 dollars (150%.) per annum : and he is driven to itinerant lecturing, on chemistry, during vacations, for the support of his little family. He is an exception to the American votaries of science, in general. He is profound-mathematical-exact—in everything, that he undertakes. getable kingdom-the signs, properties, and physiology of plants, there, in consequence of his travelling among the Indians of America, is very extensive and accurate.-But, a person, whose name is Whitlaw; a Scotchman, has done more to promote a general knowledge of Botany-and a popular love of that delightful study by his transparencies, throughout America, than everybody else in it. He is an extraordinary man; wholly without education; ignorant of everything but botany, and the uses of botany; but has made some valuable discoveries concerning the pathology of plants, and the mischievous influence of soil upon their virtues.-He has passed a large part of his life among the Indians of North and South America; in the West Indies-and in the United States, whither he is now gone again. Many of his discoveries owe their origin to an attempt of his, upon the island of New York, to raise, "grow," or, as the Virginians would say, to make the plants of the wilderness, mountain, and solitude, in the noisy sea-breeze of a noisy island. He had well nigh ruined himself, in the undertaking. He is the founder of the Bayswater Asylum, near London, where miracles are performed every day of the week, under high authority, upon those who are afflicted with scrofula and glandular diseases. He cannot speak English; never finished a sentence in his life: is vulgar and illiterate, beyond all belief; and yet, by extraordinary perseverance; great sagacity, and, we believe, great honesty, he has acquired a surprising knowledge of botany-a knowledge, that is unequalled, on many accounts. BURKE wrote a history of one of the United States-Virginia. If our memory serve us, it is a miserable book-meagre, and talkative. We do not venture to speak positively-there being half a dozen histories of the same state. CLEAVELAND-Professor of Chemistry, in Bowdoin College, Brunswick, Maine, (one of the New England circle.)-We were wrong, the other day, in saying, that no American writer, except the authors of the Federalist, had produced a standard work. We were speaking, it is true, of literature; and Mr Cleaveland's book is a matter of science-but, still, to avoid all misconstruction, we take CLINTON, DE WITT. A statesman; the projector of the great Western canal: a man of science and literature ; remarkable for his public spirit-and for his unprincipled political intrigue. He has been governor of New York, mayor of the city, more than onceand once had-nay, has yet, perhaps -a good chance for the Presidency. He has written some valuable papers -upon the policy-agriculture-history and literature of North America; but has never committed himself beyond a pamphlet or so, at a time; which, of course, has been largely overrated. No matter for the Presidency. -He will be remembered as the originator of the Erie Canal-the discoverer, that money taken out of one pocket and put into another in the same country; that heavy taxes-voluntary or involuntary-which are disbursed, in works of public utility, among the very persons who pay the taxes, cannot impoverish a people-he will be remembered much longer for these things, than if he had been a dozen presidents. COOPER-An Englishman, by birth : author of a work on the BANKRUPT LAWS of the United States, (and still valuable; though done up, in a hurricane :) a translation of JUSTINIAN'S INSTITUTES; with a volume of notes, indicating great labour, diligence, memory, and research; an eminent civilian: a judge, in one of the State courts:—and, we believe, three professors, in Mr Jefferson's new university: to wit-Professor of Law: Professor of Chemistry: and Professor of-we hardly know what.-He is a the piece was; and although some of the Eagle part, was taken from Neal's Battle of Niagara-which is made up, as he himself owns, of "eagles, rainbows, plumes, and stars,"—yet was it enough to prove, that the author of it had more poetry in his blood, than forty thousand of the Pauldings, Eastburns, Bryants, Percivals, and Sprogues of the day. This very able man: but has achieved nothing entirely worthy of himself.-A work upon "Medical Jurisprudence" by him, in 1 vol. 8vo, is one, that every lawyer should have in his library. For want of the knowledge, there accessible, many a poor fellow; and many a wretched woman, has gone to the gallows.-There is another Judge Cooper, in America, father of Mr Cooper, the novelist: but we know of nothing from his pen. The two are continually confounded with one another, in their own country. CROAKER. Under this portentous name, some years ago, a writer appeared in the New-York Evening Post, whose verses have more unaffected pleasantry, and real wit, by far, than any transatlantick rhymer of whom we have ever heard. Cobbett will not soon forget him-Cobbett, "Who left his country for his country's good:" nor Bristed. We all know how much it has been the fashion of late, for the poetry-people to talk about a multitude of sweet, or dear things-all of which are not so sweet or so dear, as one other thing, whatever it may be. Croaker touches them up very prettily. Dear is this-he says-and very dear is that-(enumerating many delightful matters, that are dear enough, God knows) and ends with "Dear are Bristed's volumes at half price." -On another occasion, while the trumpery style of the day was getting worse and worse, he wrote an Invocation to Peace. We do not recollect the words precisely; but will answer for their being substantially these Arise, O Peace! in thy best muslin gown, And wave o'er this distracted town, We do not know this writer's true name.-Near the same time, too, another person appeared, in the same paper, (much to the credit of Dr Colman-whose paper was one of the last, into which we should have looked for anything of the kind) and threw off, somehow or other, in conjunction with Croaker, a magnificent piece of poetry, to the American Eagle. Would that we knew his name!-He is dead, we believe; we have been promised a manuscript of his-by John M'Lean-a judge of New York-who, we hope, will take the hint.-Extravagant as COLDEN, CADWALLADER. gentleman wrote a life of Robert Fulton, the American steam-engine man ; the person who, by his ingenuity, perseverance, and remarkable address, turned all the discoveries of his predecessors, in steam-navigation, to account. By the way-some extraordinary errors, upon this point, appear to be entertained by our countrymen. The Americans never have claimed the invention or the discovery of steam power: no-nor even the first idea of applying it, in the navigation of ships. They only say, what is true. They say this-an American—a Virginian, whose name was James Rumsey, did actually build a steam-vessel in 1785, which ascended the Potowmac at the rate of four miles an hour: and on the 10th of March, 1785, did actually write as follows, to George Washington: "I have quite convinced myself, that boats of passage may be made to go against the current of the Mississippi or Ohio rivers; or in the Gulf stream, from 60 to 100 miles a-day." In 1787, the same person published a pamphlet, which is yet in being, upon the same subject. Miller's experiments upon the Forth and Clyde canal were made, and his book published, in 1787. Of course-whatever may have been the first idea-or, wherever it may have originated-an American was the first who ever applied it with success: and Fulton-another American-was the man who revived the whole doctrine; improved upon it; and made it of use, long after it had been given up as a visionary thing here,-and when, in fact, any idea of steam navigation, such as it now is, would have been like an idea of balloon navigation put forth now. Colden has been ridiculed and aspersed by the Quarterly Review with great bitterness, and little good sense-for merely foretelling what has already happened, in a great mea sure. DABNEY-another American poet, of whom we know nothing at all. We |