We think we see traces of a return to a more learned age than the present; but until this arrives, it would always be well to presume somewhat on the ignorance in these matters of the English scientific man.

The notes of the translator appear to us to be very interesting and valuable, and the translation itself seldom reminds us of its German origin. Dr. Willis's English is that of a polite scholar.

This First Part of the work does not professedly treat of the theory of generation, yet we are glad to see that Professor Wagner recognizes some termination to the aggregation of facts, and the necessity for something beyond the eye to the completion of his inquiry. Nothing seems more desirable at present, than some definite canon, whereby we may judge when our facts are sufficient, and at what period we have a right, as inheritors of Nature, to demand her principles: for is it not evident, that facts themselves are infinite, and that if we delay until they are all registered in our books or brains, we may indeed be storing our memories, but without ever making an approximation to that wisdom which feeds on causes? The want of such a canon has had, as we think, two pernicious effects: 1stly, A universal preference for destructive instead of perceptive analysis; and 2ndly, A multiplication of terminology, altogether exceeding the uses of man's life and reason, and the powers of the human memory. This looks like the access of a dark age of facts. Well does Wagner say, "No organic process can be comprehended isolatedly in its essence that which we name with Goëthe, primary or fundamental phenomenon, cannot be shown from the empirical mode of comprehending an object in itself, but only with the assistance of another cognizant active power, viz. the mind." That after a certain apprenticeship to experience, then the mind has a right to be enfranchised, and to work for itself, is a doctrine which the instinct of self-preservation ought to move the learned world to teach speedily in its temples of science; and it would be well worth the while of the British Association to consider formally, whether, on many subjects, this apprenticeship has not naturally terminated long ago.

A Treatise on the Structure, Functions, and Diseases of the Foot and Leg of the Horse; comprehending the Comparative Anatomy of these Parts in other Animals, &c. &c. By W. C. SPOONER, M. R. V. C., Southampton. London: Longman. 1840.

Comparative anatomy is only a theory when applied to the human body, while, on the contrary, it is not merely analogical, but to a great extent practical and real for veterinary science. Therein is its crown and head, because therein its uses to the community are direct and immediate. And it is no trifling fact, that in this century, for the first time, a scientific profession should have arisen in a distinct shape, to sum up the treasures of our knowledge of the animal kingdom, and to utilize and convert them into practice. It looks as if the world were not altogether dreaming, but beginning to echo, concerning everything, the Divine saying, "Behold it is very good,"-that is, brimming with benefits and applications, both private and universal. If this be too high-flown for our theme, the foot of the horse, we beg the reader's pardon, and can only say, it was difficult to resist the effusion, when we regarded so much knowledge as coming out of ignorance, and, what is a still more difficult birth, so much utility emerging from speculation.

Mr. Spooner's works stand in no need of our praise for their professional merits. They have already received the mark and impress of the approbation of the teachers of veterinary science. They have already been commended to students from the Professor's chair, and by the respectable journals which are the organs of the profession. It is rather our pleasing duty to recommend the present Treatise to other sorts and conditions of men -to the general physiologist, who wishes for a safe guide in extending his knowledge, and above all, to that large class for whom the horse is either a creature of pleasure and convenience, or of livelihood and necessity. On

the principle, which this class so often woefully illustrates, that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, we beg to refer them to Mr. Spooner's book, where they may "drink deep," and, learning their ignorance, have a prospect of safety. For our own part, although we deny ourselves the pleasure of keeping a carriage and four, for precisely the same reason as Dr. Johnson did, and although we are non-veterinary, we have much pleasure in admitting the largeness of Mr. Spooner's views on the horse, and his perception of the extension and connection of his subject, on many sides, with many sciences; and last, not least, in bearing testimony to the easy and gentlemanly style of his discourse, with which he indicates at once the polish of his mind, and his great familiarity with his materials. The only want we have felt is the deficiency of the work in woodcut illustrations, which, in the anatomical sections at least, would be a great advantage to the reader. We throw out this hint, feeling pretty confident that Mr. Spooner will soon have the task of preparing a second edition.

Pride, or the Heir of Craven. A Tale of the Fifteenth Century. In Six Cantos. By HENRY COOK, Author of "Adrian," &c. &c. London: Parker. 1841.

Of this poem we hardly know what to say-whether to encourage the author with the hope that he may in time attain excellence in the arduous art to which he aspires; or to advise him at once to cease his court to the Muses. So much of the real poetic instinct, and so many inaccuracies, we have seldom seen united. Energetic verses and gratingly inharmonious rhymes, nervous sentiment, and drivelling common-place, bold imagery and incorrect prosody, may often be found within the compass of a few pages. In all the mechanical appliances of his art, Mr. Cooper is at fault; and the evidence before us is wholly insufficient to enable us to decide whether he possesses its more essential qualifications. There is nothing very original in the plan of his poem;-tournaments and jousts, with the death-bed revelations of old women, have been pretty nearly exhausted of all interest. In conception, the character of the Lord of Craven-the proud baron-is good, although somewhat inadequately executed. The other characters have little to distinguish them; and the hero is absolutely a milksop. We have every wish for Mr. Cook's success, and none but kindly feelings towards him; but he has much yet to learn before we can consider him an accomplished poet. The Priest of the Nile: a Tale of Ancient Egypt. By Mrs. CHARLES TINSLEY. 2 vols. Whittaker, and Co., Ave Maria Lane.

This is a laudable attempt to illustrate the mythic history of the Egyptian Osiris. The writer supposes Sesostris and Osiris to be the same person, and has contrived to give much human interest to mythological materials. A poetic spirit makes itself felt in every part.

The Prince Duke and the Page: a Historical Novel. Edited by Lady LYTTON BULWER. Boone. 1841.

Here is a novel truly worth reading, and worth remembering,-for it contains much of the sterling solidity of history, with much of the dazzling brilliancy of romance. Its hero, the Prince Duke, is the illustrious Wallenstein, the favourite character of Schiller and Coleridge, Dr. Foster, and Colonel Mitchel. Lady Bulwer has done herself much credit, by editing such a work as this; and the author, whom we imagine to be some young man conversant with foreign literature of the German school, has evinced talents which, if duly cultivated, will raise him to celebrity. He takes, throughout, a more favourable view of Wallenstein's conduct than the majority of grave historians sanction; but we pardon the flattery, for the sake of the eloquence in which it is arrayed. In perusing his eventful career, the reader of this work will derive many a brilliant lesson respecting the intricate politics of

Germany during the thirty years' war. We have no room at present for analysis of the more particular features of the work, but hope to return to it again. Meantime, we cordially recommend it to the attention of the public. The Storm, and other Poems. By FRANCIS BENNOCH. London: Smith. 1841.

Possessed of a delicate temperament, and being capable of appreciating the beauties and retaining the music of the chef-d'œuvres of our masters of song, many conceive an irresistible desire to idle away their leisure hours in dallying with the Muses. What to others has been the object of severe study and earnest meditation-of nights of watchfulness and days of toil-is to them the mere amusement of a moment, begun without previous preparation, and continued without care or industry. They write with a certain gentlemanly negligence; and if they seldom offend against decorum, never take more than the first step towards perfection. In a word, they are amateurs, not artists.

To this class, apparently, belongs Mr. Bennoch. Of him we know nothing except from the volume before us; but that contains all the distinguishing marks of the species of poetry to which we have above alluded. It is not sufficient merely to feel like a poet. Admiring a splendid picture, we may be able to conceive a still more magnificent design, and yet be wholly destitute of the artistic skill requisite to give our winged imaginings permanent existence on the canvass. In like manner, although we may behold a sunset with all the emotion of a Milton, we may be unable to describe it even tolerably in verse. No art, even the easiest (and poetry is one of the most difficult), can be learnt at leisure. A long apprenticeship, patient application, and dogged determination, are required before we can expect to obtain facility in our operations; nor will these alone avail us: we must have a perfect knowledge of what has been effected by our predecessors, and a distinct understanding that we must do more than they; for if we excel them not, we fall inconceivably below them. Only he that initiates has the glory; as his followers have shunned the danger, so are they deprived of the

renown.

Mr. Bennoch has praise-worthily progressed a certain distance in his art; but although entered on the true road, he soon stops short. His poems contain the dawnings of excellence, but lack altogether any approach to the splendor of perfect day. They are the effusions of a pupil rather than of a proficient; and of a pupil, too, who seems likely ever to remain such.

The following description at first attracts our attention by means of a certain lively dash in the measure; yet, if analyzed, its images will be found to want originality, and perhaps chastity :

"But ah! how vain the wish of man!
His fairest hope, his dearest plan,-
Just when it seems within his power,
Will vanish like that fatal flower
Whose beauty charms the human eye,
But at a touch will fade and die!
So on that eve-too bright indeed,-
Old shepherds, weather-wise, could read,
By some faint streaks that crossed the sky,
A storm-a dreadful storm was nigh.
And scarce had Maurice passed the mill,
And clomb the breath-suspending hill,
When through the glen on every side
The gusty wind moaned like a tide,
And clouds began to overcast
The sky, and then, in bitter blast,

The Spirit of Winter arose on the air,
With shivering limbs all naked and bare!
Born in the depths of an Iceland cave,
Cradled and nursed on a stormy wave.
He slumbered a season, and then came forth;
His steeds were the bitterest winds of the North;
A frozen cloud was his whirling car;
Darkness and Fear were his heralds of war;
His icicle teeth did rattle and shake
Like a hurtling stone on a frozen lake,
Or the clattering bones of a gibbetted form,
That is driven about by the merciless storm;
His long skinny arms he waved in the breeze,
And stripped of their verdure the plants and the trees.
Wherever he snorted, his withering breath

All delicate beings crumbled in death!

Loud, loud were the shouts of his boisterous mirth,
As he scattered dismay o'er the smiling earth;
The clouds were rent as the storm was driven;
He howled and laughed in the face of Heaven!
From the hills came volumes of drifted snow,
Choking the rivers and streams below,

Which gasped for breath as they slowly ran,
With gurgling sounds like a dying man."

This is decidedly the best passage in the book; yet it will scarcely satisfy one who has been accustomed to drink at the fountains of Spenser, Shakspere, and Milton. We fancy that Mr. Bennoch has in some portions of his poem imitated Scott. Now Scott is the very worst model for imitation. We say not this out of any feeling of disrespect to the Border Bard, since few poets have won their laurels so well; but because his style of versification, however beautiful under his management, is very apt, in less skilful hands, to favour redundancy, and flatter young authors into the hallucination that readiness of word-stringing is gracefulness of expression. Scott wrote manly sense and delicate poetry, but his imitators have seldom more than an easy flow of rhyme.

Mr. Bennoch's minor pieces (with the exception of "The Mourner's Hope," which is good) are indeed trifles; equally destitute of thought and of purpose, still, as is frequently the case with melodious nothings, they are sometimes pleasing; though the pleasure we take in them is very similar to the pleasure an infant takes in its rattle. The public mind, now, more than ever, demands strong aliment; and will soon altogether refuse the thin milk with which in its nonage it was not improperly fed.

Thomson of Iver on the Heartsease. Edited by W. M'LOGAN. London: Miller, Henrietta Street, Covent Garden. 1841.

This is the first number of a series of essays on the prime ornaments of the flower-garden, and, if the plan laid down by the editor, and acted upon in this first part, is carried out in the subsequent portions, it will prove equally valuable to the florist and the amateur. Each will derive from it amusement, and, which is of more importance, each may gain from it much valuable information, for every treatise will be written by a florist who has gained the prize for the best specimen of the flower which is the subject of it. This valuable feature of the work at once sets it far above anything of the kind that has been yet attempted; we have here in a narrow compass, and at a cheap rate, sound, practical information, such as will enable any one to produce the best sort of flowers himself, either in town or in the country, for even in the narrow limits of a London life much may be done in the way of this pure and healthy occupation.

N. S.-VOL. VI.

2 L

The number now before us, as it name imports, is devoted to the Heartsease, and a very able treatise it is, supplying all, and indeed more than we thought could be brought forward on the subject. It is accompanied by an excellent coloured engraving of the pansey in its most perfect form,—a form, indeed, in which we suspect it is not often seen. The notes by the editor are numerous and well selected, showing where and how others have differed from the celebrated florists of Iver, or in how far their views have corresponded with his own. To the ladies, as well as the florists, this work will be an acceptable present.

The Origin, Progress, and present Condition of the Fine Arts in Great Britain and Ireland. By W. B. SARSFIELD TAYLOR, Curator of the Living Model Academy, Translator of M. Meremée's Work on Oil Painting, Fresco, &c. &c. 2 vols. 8vo. Whittaker and Co.

This work is the first, and, indeed, only one, of its class, in which it has been attempted to collect, combine, and arrange an historical view of the Fine Arts in the British Isles, from the earliest records of their existence amongst us down to the present time;-a task, as many of our readers must be well aware, of very considerable difficulty; requiring not only very great labour and research, amongst the scattered materials to be sought for in our public and private libraries, but also an intimate knowledge of all the sources from which the hitherto unpublished modern history of the arts could be obtained; and along with these qualifications, an intimate practical knowledge of the arts was absolutely requisite, to enable an author to form a just estimate of the positive and comparative value of the various species of information obtainable for this purpose, and to select from a great mass of materials only those parts which bore directly and clearly upon the various topics to be submitted in elucidation of this interesting subject, and for the instruction of the public mind.

Of the qualifications of the author for this labour of love," the work before us gives very substantial evidence, not only in the surprising number of facts which he has brought together in support of his view of the question, but for the order and arrangement with which they are distributed throughout the work, which prevents any confusion of ideas, and makes the chain of circumstances pass on in chronological order, without interruption, from the commencement to the completion of the work.

But these are not the only remarkable points in the character of these volumes; for besides the decided originality of the plan, the author's views of the subject are equally so; he has not followed any leader, nor suffered any of the old established prejudices to influence him in his researches after the truth; and he sustains a very firm yet mild spirit of independent feeling throughout, which, although it may not in some instances be at all flattering to those who hold opposite views in these matters, yet cannot excite the ill will of any but the most narrow-minded and shallow pretenders to knowledge in this branch of literature.

One principal, and, indeed, meritorious object of the author has been to excite public attention in favour of the arts and artists of his country; a patriotic feeling in which we cordially coincide, and which we should think deserves not only the thanks, but the lasting gratitude, of the members of the intellectual professions, and the most cordial approbation of all those who admire and support the painting, sculpture, and architecture of the British Isles. But this worthy purpose is most intelligently put forward, and is based upon the absolute merits of the case, and Mr. Taylor argues it as a matter of right and justice to the artist, and not on the ground of generosity and expediency; which latter motives he considers as not at all applicable to the object; and he brings forward many strong arguments founded upon well authenticated facts, to show that the talents of our native artists have displayed a vigour of imagination, a knowledge of expression, colour, and effect, with a skill in the more mechanical operations of the art, quite equal