necessarily the poetical. Nothing is poetical until it is poetically discerned, and then the most common objects are found to be full of the subtile essence of poetry, waiting only for the "vision and the faculty divine" to win it forth. We will not, however, undertake a dissertation on the nature of true poetry, but will let the author speak for himself. "The spiritual beings, which the poet of untutored nature gave to the forest, to the valley, and to the mountain, to the lake, to the river, and to the ocean, working within their secret offices, and moulding for man the beautiful or the sublime, are but the weak creations of a finite mind, although they have for us a charm which all men unconsciously obey, even when they refuse to confess it. They are like the result of the labors of the statuary, who, in his high dreams of love and sublimated beauty, creates from the marble block a figure of the most exquisite moulding which mimics life. It charms us for a season; we gaze and gaze again, and its first charms vanish; it is ever and ever still the same dead heap of chiselled stone. It has not the power of presenting to our wearying eyes the change which life alone enables matter to give; and we admit the excellence of the artist, but we cease to feel at his work. The poetical creations are pleasing, but they never affect the mind in the way in which the poetic realities of nature do. The sylph moistening a lily is a sweet dream; but the thoughts which rise when first we learn that its broad and beautiful dark-green leaves, and its pure and delicate flower, are the results of the alchemy which changes gross particles of matter into symmetric forms, of a power which is unceasingly at work under the guidance of light, heat, and electrical force,-are, after our incredulity has passed away for it is too wonderful for the untutored to believe at once of an exalting character. "The flower has grown under the impulse of principles which have traversed to it on the beam of solar light, and mingled with its substance. A stone is merely a stone to most men. But within the interstices of the stone, and involving it like an atmosphere, are great and mighty influences, powers which are fearful in their grander operations, and wonderful in their gentler developments. The stone and the flower hold, locked up in their recesses, the three great known forces,-light, heat, and electricity; and, in all probability, others of a more exalted nature still, to which these powers are but subordinate agents. Such are the facts of science, which, indeed, draw "sermons from stones," and find "tongues in trees." How weak are the creations of romance, when viewed beside the discoveries of science! One affords matter for meditation, and gives rise to thoughts of a most ennobling character; the other excites for a moment, and leaves the mind vacant or diseased. The former, like the atmosphere, furnishes a constant supply of the most healthful matter; the latter gives an unnatural stimulus, which compels a renewal of the same kind of excitement, to maintain the continuation of its pleasurable sensations." pp. 219, 220. We cannot indorse the views here expressed in relation to art; for true works of art, in whatever department, are as constant in their effects, and as suggestive, as the works of nature. The hand of the artist, when he is truly inspired, is a medium for the Divine Power, no less than the lifeless atoms with which He works out the forms of nature. The size of this volume, of course, makes it one to stimulate, rather than satisfy, the curiosity of those who feel an interest in such subjects. Each department treated would demand a book as large as this to give any thing like a distinct view of its philosophy. Like most popular courses of lectures, the work does not convey enough information on any one subject to be of much value, or to make sufficient impression upon the mind to be long retained; and like them, its chief use must be, by rousing curiosity, to send the mind in pursuit of more thorough information from richer sources. The present plan of popular instruction is much like that of electrotyping a cheap substance with one of the precious. metals; an extremely thin coating gives the appearance of solid silver. We do not object in the least to this process, provided the difference between the two things is acknowledged; but when, as is too often the case, the thinnest gilding presumes to call itself solid gold, we are almost ready to think that popular education, after all, is a mere cheat. The truth seems to be, that very few persons have any desire for information any farther than it serves to amuse an idle hour; and as it is information only of the most superficial kind that can answer such a purpose, the demand for popular lectures and superficial treatises must always far exceed that for works of sterling value. We should not complain, however, for all minds ought to receive what they crave, if it be not positively evil; but it is the duty of writers to strive to elevate the popular standard as much as possible. To know a little of many things is the prevalent fashion of the day; but to know a few things well demands. a much more healthful effort of the mind, and enriches it proportionally. If Mr. Hunt's book leads persons to seek to know more than he tells them, it is a useful publication; but if it is regarded as sufficient by itself, we cannot say much for those who make use of it; because it can do little more than satisfy a childish love for the wonderful. We believe the author intended that his work should serve the better purpose; for his own mind seems to be elevated and enriched by his studies, and excited to draw others to the contemplation of that which evidently gives him so much pleasure. We hope that the time may come when the popular mind may be so far enlightened, that the poet and the orator may draw illustrations from science without making themselves unintelligible; but it will be from the beautiful adaptations of nature, rather than from its wonders, that they will feed the fires of inspiration. Whatever view we may take of the value of many of the popular scientific books of the day, their number and their ready sale show that the public mind is awake, as it never was before, to subjects that were formerly entirely sealed from its inquiry; and while we look in dismay upon the heap of worse than useless trash that now answers the demand for "cheap reading," we may draw some consolation from the pile of scientific volumes, which is ever growing higher and broader. J. Chase, ART. VII. The Prelude, or Growth of a Poet's Mind: an Autobiographical Poem. By WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 12mo. 1850. Memoirs of WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, Poet-Laureate, D. C. L. BY CHRISTOPHER WORDSWORTH, D. D., Canon of Westminster. Edited by HENRY REED. Boston: Ticknor, Reed, & Fields. 1851. 2 vols. 12mo. FUTURE ages will confirm the decision upon which this age has nearly agreed; that Wordsworth is the greatest English poet since Milton, and in some sense the father of a nobler and loftier school of poetry than any which had before appeared. These titles are his not so much on account of the preeminence of his powers, as of the direction he gave them. He is not the greatest of poets, but his poetry is of the highest kind; it deals with the noblest subjects, and appeals to the noblest faculties and susceptibilities. No other bard has with so potent an imagination clothed with forms of majestic beauty the loftiest abstractions of the intellect, and the shadowy conceptions of duty and immortality; no other has so divinely sung "The thoughts that make The life of souls, the truths for whose sweet sake Though Wordsworth does not challenge admiration by the colossal grandeur of his powers, like the few myriad-minded poets, who, appearing at long intervals, have been crowned by the common consent of mankind as the monarchs of song, he rises into a higher atmosphere than they, and brings under the magic power of verse loftier themes. Hence he has won a higher name than the relative greatness of his intellect would otherwise assign him. Indeed, the explanation of the superiority of his poetry is to be found not so much, perhaps, in the greatness of his mind, as in the character of his age and of the influences which surrounded him. In its excellencies, we gratefully recognize the fruit of eighteen centuries of Christianity, of six thousand years of human struggle and progress. He lived, too, in one of those periods when what has long been maturing in silence bursts suddenly upon the world, and all the energies of man seem to start forth at once in newness of life. In civil affairs, it was the age of revolutions, when men cast off the old institutions they had outgrown, and boldly grappled with the highest problems of government and social being. In philosophy, the purer system of the idealistic school was dealing a death-blow to the sneering skepticism and cold materialism which had weighed down the powers and aspirations of mankind; and the doctrine of the existence of the pure reason, whose truth the greatest men of all ages had at least dimly recognized and felt, was for the first time clearly developed and set forth, vindicating the native dignity of the human mind against the degrading views which would chain it down to earth-born objects and quench its noblest longings. In all departments of thought and action, it was a period of daring speculation and restless activity; but to represent in one word the influences most potent in moulding the mind of Wordsworth, it was the age of the metaphysics of Kant and of the French Revolution. We have had other poets in this period who were more faithful exponents of the passion and the struggle of the age; but if they represent its active spirit, Wordsworth represents the principles which underlie the action. The manifold activities of the times spread before his philosophic vision a rare field for contemplation. In calm retirement from its busy scenes, he looked out upon the stir, spectator ab extra, as Coleridge has called him, and saw the meaning of the conflict, to which the combatants themselves, in the engrossing interest of the struggle, are often blind. By this interested and attentive observation of the action, as well as by his thorough familiarity with the philosophical speculation of the age, he was enabled to represent most truly the thought and contemplative sentiment of his times. If the poetry of Wordsworth, then, rises to higher themes than that of his predecessors, it is because it is the product of a longer period of human development, springing from a mind enriched by the experience and speculation of the past, and alive to all the influences of the present. The progress of mankind in self-knowledge, or, at least, in the habit of selfreflection and introspection, and the increase with time of the mind's disposition to direct its thoughts to the field of contemplation, rather than to that of action, is strikingly exemplified in the history of poetical literature. Homer gives a fresh, hearty, glowing description of events, unmixed with any philosophical speculations and abstractions; action, and not reflection, is the staple of his song. Several centuries of advancing culture and refinement at length produce their fruit in the Greek tragedians, "teachers best Of moral prudence, with delight received A later age brings forth the polished Virgil, whose taste and elegance evince his careful study of old writers, and who, |