and little by little patched me up again with my old kind of delights unto which that my sorrow gave way. And yet there succeeded not indeed other griefs, yet the causes of other griefs. For whence had that former grief so easily reached my inmost soul but that I had poured out my soul upon the dust in loving one, that must die, as if he would never die. For what restored and refreshed me chiefly, was the solaces of other friends with whom I did love what instead of thee I loved and this was a great fable and protracted lie, by whose adulterous stimulus our soul, which lay itching in our ears, was defiled. But that fable would not die to me so oft as any of my friends died. There were other things which in them did more take my mind; to talk and jest together; to do kind offices by turns; to read together honied books; to play the fool or be earnest together; to dissent at times without discontent, as a man might with his ownself; and even with the seldomness of those dissentings, to season our more frequent consentings; sometimes to teach, and sometimes learn; long for the absent with impatience, and welcome the coming with joy."— Book 4.

A Discourse on Popular Lectures, pronounced before the Literary Societies of the University of Vermont, Aug. 3, 1842. By CALVIN PEASE. Burlington: C. Goodrich.

The Connexion of Taste and Morals; Two Lectures. By MARK HOPKINS, D. D. Second Edition. Boston: Tappan and Dennet.

Observations on the Presidential Veto; Together with a Plan for a Change of the Constitution relative to this Power. Boston: J. Munroe & Co. pp. 78.

The Beggar of the Pont des Arts; translated from the German. Boston: James Munroe & Co.; and

The Career of Puffer Hopkins. By CORNELIUS MATHEWS. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1842.

A BOOK of the school of Dickens, and "designed by the author to be national in its features." As we are obliged to keep our novels uncut against the rainy days, we have not yet looked far enough into these stories to have an opinion to offer.

Poems on Slavery. By H. W. LONGFELLOW.

THE thinnest of all Mr. Longfellow's thin books; spirited and polished, like its forerunners; but the topic would warrant a deeper tone.

Lowell Offering for December.

We are happy to learn that our modest and far-famed contemporary has a large and increasing subscription.

WE are indebted to English correspondents for some valuable gifts, whose safe arrival is all that we can now acknowledge, though some of them will yet have from us a considered record, as significant facts in literary and spiritual history. From J. A. Heraud, Esq. we have received three volumes of the Monthly Magazine for 1839, 1840, and 1841. From Hugh Doherty, Esq. the London Phalanx, Volume I. 1041-2, folio. Introduction to English Grammar, on Universal Principles. By Hugh Doherty. Life of Charles Fourier. By Hugh Doherty. Le Nouveau Monde Industriel, 2 vols. 12mo. Bruxelles, 1840. From Charles Bray, Esq. The Philosophy of Necessity. By Charles Bray. 2 vols. 8vo. London, 1841. The second volume of this work contains a valuable appendix, exhibiting the history of the successive social experiments of St. Simon, Fourier, Owen, and others, in Europe and America. From other friends we have received An Inquiry Concerning the Origin of Christianity. By Charles C. Hennell. Second Edition. London, 1841. Christian Theism. By C. C. Hennell. 1 vol. 8vo. Theology of the Old Testament, translated from the German of George Lorenz Bauer.

GOETHE AND SWEDENBORG.

A CORRESPONDENT has called our attention to the following passage in Swedenborg's Arcana, as containing an anticipation of Goethe's Theory of Color. The Goethean idea, it will be remembered, is that there is but one primary, namely, white light, and the negative darkness, and that color is the mixture of these two. In the Arcana Coelestia, sect. 1042, Swedenborg writes: "In order to the existence of color, there must needs be some substance darkish and brightish, or black and white, on which, when the rays of light from the sun fall, according to the various temperature of the dark and bright, or black and white, from the modification of the influent rays of light, there exist colors, some of which take more or less from the darkish and black,. some more or less from the brightish and white, and hence arises their diversity."

ERRATUM.

In the Dial for October, p. 213. 1. 32, for [Confessions of the Moderator,] read [Confessions of a witness to the Moderator.]

THE DIAL.

VOL. III.

APRIL, 1843.

No. IV.

A. BRONSON ALCOTT'S WORKS.*

WHEN criticism best attains its end, it is an adjunct to authorship of no trifling pertinency. The true author, — the first discoverer,

essen

the really original writer, tially stands above his age. His value to the world consists in his superiority to it. By as much as he more nobly speaks out of the new, is he the instrument for the reanimation and progression of the old. To the same extent also is he liable to be misunderstood, misrepresented, slighted, or rejected.

commences.

At this juncture the interpreter's function legitimately It is the true critic's endeavor to bridge the waters which separate the prophet from the people, to compass the distance which divides the understanding in the auditor from the intuition in the utterer. The inspired oracle never indulges in a vain expression.

All the sayings of Genius are oracular; all the actions of Originality are inspired. The destiny of the genuinely inspired soul is always to be doubted, or despised, or persecuted in its own day and nation. Not born for years or localities only, but for all times and places, it must await as wide a welcome. We see that this skepticism, or unfriendliness, is necessarily manifested. by the very law of

* Conversations with Children on the Gospels; conducted and edited by A. Bronson Alcott. 2 vols. Boston: James Munroe & Co. 1836 – 7. Record of a School; Exemplifying the General Principles of Spiritual Culture. pp. 208. Boston: James Munroe & Co. 1835. Second Edition, 1836.

Spiritual Culture; or Thoughts for the Consideration of Parents and Teachers. Boston: J. Dowe. 1841.

originality itself; and just in a degree coequal to the extent or depth of the originality. The greatest, the divinest genius is persecuted to death, even unto ignominious death; a moderate degree of inspiration is merely hunted through the world; a lighter share of originality is allowed to waste itself in neglected poverty and soul-chilling solitude. For it is not, we surmise, always true that the measure of the world's acceptance of genius is the index to the profundity of that generic love. Had it been so, the world ere now would have been in a more loveful position than self-confessedly it is. Loveful utterances in the deepest tone, loveful actions in the gentlest manner, have been spoken and enacted in the world's theatre, and the records of them still remain, kindly appealing to humanity for a response. Yet it comes not. Or, at the utmost, as in the mimic theatre, the spectators vehemently applaud each virtuous representation as it passes before their eyes, but as instantly forget it. Influences pass over humanity as the wind over the young trees; but the evanescent air is not the abiding sap. Manifestations of genius have not generally induced men to seek a closer union with the genetic power. We lack even imitative amendment.

Scarcely, therefore, can it be granted that the want of success, which so frequently characterizes the career of genius, is attributable either to any deficiency of love or want of exponential ability on its side. Something, nay much, depends on the construction of the receptive vessel. The finest wine must be inevitably spilt, if poured upon a solid marble sphere; not even nectar itself could be retained in a seive; and let us recollect that genius is ever too ready to pour forth its offerings, to consider critically the state or nature of the receiving mind. The mind supposed to be recipient will be found not seldom to be repellant, and even when frankly disposed to receive, often finds the task too difficult at once to comprehend that which emanates from the progressed being. The sun steadily shines on, though by its beams the swamp exhales miasma as the peach deliciously ripens.

Undoubtedly the self-complacent auditor may construct a fensive axiom, or what is familiarly designated a truism, and pronounce that if genius had love enough, it never could appeal to us in vain; with love enough, the most

strong-hearted must be moved. This is of course a tenable position. With two such excellent diplomatic "peacemaking” words in one sentence as "if" and "enough," no doubt can be raised against the veracity of the aphorism. But in our estimation that code of morals does not rank very high, which would establish a divine origin by proof drawn from the results of the action. It is needful to act, to act morally, genetically, generatively, before results can be, and all the results can never be known to the individual. Confirmation may possibly, in some points, be gathered from observance of consequences, but it is rare that anything beyond matter for useful and modificative reflection can be gleaned from that field.

No; it is sadly, sorrowfully true, that there are rocks so adamantine, brutes so untamable, that not even Orpheus himself, in his most celestial mood, can subdue them by the softest notes from his enchanting lyre. Our reproaches, therefore, shall not fall upon the love-inspired teacher because the taught are not more highly adtempered than we find them. Indeed, we will reproach none, not even ourselves; for the interpreter, albeit his position is more temporary and local, has his proper time and place.

There is a converse notion, however, rather too com monly adopted by active minds, wishful enough of good in their respective ways, but not yet sufficiently stable to be replenished with the needful talent; and our duty leads us to declare its idiotism. The bustling interloper, the mechanical rhymester, or the verbal handicraftsman, finding no reception in the world corresponding to his self-approbative desires, is wont to assume the position of neglected or persecuted genius, because men of genius have, as we also affirm, time out of mind, been public victims. A playwright is not a Shakspeare, merely because in common with the gifted bard he knows "a little Latin, and less Greek." A religious zealot, even respectable as he may be in morals, and we say it with genuine, heartfelt respect for all zeal, has not always the inspired right to assume the crown of martyrdom, merely because he is opposed in the world. Not all are Christ's who fall under man's disapprobation. Oddity is not a sure certificate of worth, though the worthy must of course be singular where ills abound. The unauthorized authors, the uninspired teachers, are in