The Races of J\Ien.—JI Fragment. By Robert Knox, M. D., Lecturer On Anatomy, and Corresponding Member of the , National Academy of Medicine of France. 8vo. pp. 323. American edition. Philadelphia, 1850. The author of this unique production may be known to many of odr readers, if for no other effort, for his translation of the Human Anatomy of H. Cloquet. He has, however, made some little noise in the world as a lecturer on the subjects embraced in the volume before us ; and by the promulgation of opinions on those subjects, Which are certainly sufficiently wild and startling, and on which he appears to pride himself not a little.- In speaking of his dogma, that “ human character, individual and national, is traceable solely to the nature of that race to which the individual or nation be- longs,” he characterizes it, very properly w’e think, as a statement which must meet with the severest opposition. “ It runs counter to nearly all the chronicles of events, called histories,”—a sorry re- commendation to favor we should say,—“ it shocks the theories of statesmen, theologians, philanthropists of all shades; nevertheless, it is simply a fact, the most remarkable, the most comprehensive, which philosophy has announced. Race is everything : literature, science, art, in a word, civilization, depend on it.” < Such is a specimen of the author’s manner, and it is no exagge- . ration to say, that the whole work abounds with similar categorical affirmations,—at times plausible ; at others revolting; occasionally supported on an admitted basis ; at others altogether aerial ; and not unfrequently in contrast with all fact, observation, and even common sense; strung together, too, in the most confused and dis- cordant manner, and presenting “A fine specimen, on the whole, Of what the learned call rigmarole.” It is difficult, indeed, to classify such a production. The author himself denominates it “ a fragment.” Its fragmentary character cannot be questioned, if the word be used to signify.“ an imperfect part”’ but were we to assign it a place, we should sa^ it belongs rather to another class of productions, and is more deserving of the title “ The Races of Men—a rhapsody;'” not in the ancient and favorable sense of the word as applicable to Homeric periods; but in its more modern acceptation, “ a confused jumble of sentences or statepaents, without dependance or natural connection, a rambling composition.” But even in this point of view the work might have possessed a claim to respectability, were it not grossly disfigured with general and special references to persons and things, couched in language often—it is true—forcible, but not unfrequently of the most offensive character. What apology,, for example, can be offered for the following scurrilous allusion to one of the most gifted writers of this country. > “ Buffon concluded that animal life was not so vigorous on the American soil as in the old world, comparing one animal with another; this simple fact, for it is one, roused the wrath of an Anglo-Saxon, now settled in that country, but calling himself an American ; I mean Mr. Cooper, the novelist. True to his Saxon race, he has determined to make out, in the face of all common sense and truth—despising the one by his trade or calling, and being seemingly without the other;— that the American soil nourished as big animals as ever were grown in old France or England, or the whole world; that the buffalo was as large as our oxen, and the turkey larger than the barn-door fowl; what a pity he had not also added, that geese and asses of all kinds abound,and are at least, as large as pedantic,,and as stupidly splerrin as any the Britishers could ever boast of. This is the Mr. Cooper who compared, through ten drawlishly-spun pages, the Rhine with the immortal Hudson—the everlasting Hudson—that large river which runs near the ancient city of New York, so rich in the association of great names and stirring events. What solemn pedantry, what deplo- rable want taste and sense, to forget the passage of the Rhine by Caesar and Napoleon ! These are the names which give immortality to the Rhine, not the amount of water it contains, nor its length nor breadth; it is not the size of the Nile wh’ffih makes it live in the recollection of nations. Do you not see in this miserable comparison of Mr. Cooper the egotism of the Saxon peep out in all its true colors? Our rivers are bigger than yours—prettier, deeper; our horses are faster than yours—fatter and better; our oxen are larger than yours.—sleeker and finer. You will excuse, I trust, these critical remarks; folly and egotism require severe censure, whether individual or national—in fact, these terms are identical, nations merely being aggregates of indi- viduals.”—p. 167. The modesty of the author is characteristically exhibited through- out the work. “ Materials,” he says, u for a systematic history of the races of men are wholly wanting; the great problem of human nature has scarcely been touched on in any previous history of race.” And again :—