The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe - Edgar Allan Poe [835]
You may remember a Mr. William Wallace, “the Kentucky Poet,” as he was fond of having himself entitled, and who was a frequent visiter at the office of “Graham’s Magazine,” about two years ago. This is the Wallace whom O’Connell somewhat cavalierly checked, in the outset of a speech commenced by Mr. W., at a repeal meeting in Dublin, some six or seven months since. The Kentucky poet, being that odious viper, a poor man and friendless, was in exceedingly bad odor with the small literati of this country; and they lost no time in chuckling over what they styled his “insult,” and endeavored to believe his degradation. The tables, however, have been lately turned, and I am sincerely rejoiced to perceive it. O’Connell, at a recent meeting, has made Wallace the most ample apology, and speaks of him in terms of the most cordial approbation and friendship. I myself know the young poet well — and a poet he truly is. He is also richly eloquent, and when age has somewhat sobered down his enthusiasm, he will make an orator of the highest order. As a man he is everything that is noble.
The Gothamites, not yet having made sufficient fools of themselves in their fete-ing and festival-ing of Dickens, are already on the qui vive to receive Bulwer in a similar manner. If I mistake not, however, the author of “The Last Days of Pompeii” will not be willing “to play Punch and Judy” for the amusement of an American rabble. His character, apart from his book-reputation, is little understood in this country, where he is regarded very much in the light of a mere dandy, a roue, and a misanthrope. He has many high qualities — among which generosity and indomitable energy are conspicuous. It is much in his favor that, although born to independence, he has not suffered his talents to be buried in indolence, or pleasure. He never went to any public school; — this is not generally known. He graduated at Cambridge; but owes his education chiefly to himself. He once made the tour of England and Scotland, on foot, and of France on horseback; these things smack little of the dandy. His first publication was a poem, at three and twenty.
When I spoke of Bulwer’s probably refusing to do, what Dickens made no scruple of doing, I by no means intended a disparagement of the latter. Dickens is a man of far higher genius than Bulwer. Bulwer is thoughtful, analytic, industrious, artistical; and therefore will write the better book upon the whole; but Dickens, at times, rises to an unpremeditated elevation altogether beyond the flight — beyond the ability — perhaps even beyond the appreciation, of his cotemporary. Dickens, with care and education, might have written “The Last of the Barons”; but nothing short of a miracle could have galvanized Bulwer into the conception of the concluding portion of the “Curiosity-Shop.”
P.
LETTER 4
Correspondence of the Spy.
NEW-YORK.
June 4th, 1844.
The foot-race, yesterday, at the Beacon Course, attracted a wonderful share of the public attention. — Eleven thousand persons are said to have been present, and several of our morning papers issued Extras, to satisfy the general curiosity, at a late hour in the afternoon. You have already heard that Stannard was the winner, and that he did not accomplish the ten miles within the hour; being one hour, four minutes, and thirty seconds, on the road. He walked the last two or three hundred yards, however; his sole