it is not from any blind admiration of the earlier poets, that we are tempted to look for a similar mode of thought and expression in their posterity, it is because one or other of these requisites appears to us indispensible in satire: a severity, capable of confounding vice with a single glance: or a keen and lively playfulness, which without any direct personality, can lightly touch where most it wounds." These are the qualities which at once elevate and adorn this species of composition, nor is it necessary to attach any malignity to their use, a feeling which the gentle spirit of Cowper would be the last to have admitted: for if we once lay it down as a principle, that it is not the perpetrator, but the vice itself which is to be satirised: no jealousy, or envy can be exerted, where a stern and indignant hatred of the crime rather than of the criminal, is to be pourtrayed.

Let us now make a few remarks on our poet's opinions of men and manners. It is well known that he passed the severest censures on the preachers of his day, pretty broadly asserting, that " we are no longer taught by monitors that mother church supplies:" he also drew the portrait of his ideal preacher, "such as Paul would own," furnished doubtless with every grave endowment for his sacred office, but unhappily, and we must add, unfairly introduced for the purpose of contrasting with it an offensive specimen of a modern, and we hope an equally ideal preacher: of one point however we are convinced, that if unfortunately the degenerate habits which tarnished the close of the last century can be said to excuse the sarcastic severity of Cowper, had he but lived to witness the signs of the present times, he would have found doubtless much to admire, and still more, we hope, to love and venerate in the cause of that pulpit which he had given up in despair and derision. At all events he would have been compelled to acknowledge that the sacred alarum has at length sounded in the ears both of the pastor and his flock, that corresponding exertions have been called forth in proportion to the exigencies of the occasion, and might have been inclined perhaps to have dreaded the danger of an overbearing fanaticism in the very shrine which sloth had too long dishonoured before.

We cannot quit this part of the subject without expressing our entire acquiescence in the truth of Mr. Johnson's remarks in defence of our poet's religious feelings. Cowper's unhappy malady is by no means to be imputed either to an overheated or a desponding state of visionary enthusiasm. His hypochondriacal disorder acting upon an afflicted and pious mind, might probably have conjured up a spectre of transient despondency which haunted him for a time. But his malady, not his faith, was the cause of his mental despondency. Those who knew him best, well know that his religion had a directly opposite tendency, it

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was ever the source of his consolation and hope, it was even instrumental in removing the cause of his frequent dejections of spirit: he ever had recourse to it, as to a sacred refuge whither, as upon the wings of a dove, he could flee away and be at rest." If we add to this fervent disposition of Cowper's mind, the sympathy and attention with which his anxious and affectionate friends were always eager to treat this unhappy sufferer, with that inimitable delicacy which marks the female character; a more enviable combination of amiable tenderness, and virtuous friendship will not easily be found.

From our poet's view of the religious teachers of this age, pass we on to his satirical comments upon education. The Tirocinium, or Review of Schools, is the apparent vehicle of his opinions upon this important subject: against which we do not hesitate to enter our most earnest and decided protest, We do not now mean to commence an elaborate defence of the system of our southern public schools, which are too prosperous to require it, in spite even of all the exertions of our northern critics either to abolish them entirely, or bring them down to a level with their own; but we would simply ask such questions as these; when and where will a system be found better adapted to promote the views and interests of youth, inasmuch as a public school is always the most efficacious introduction, and sometimes a positive requisite to a university education? But our poet takes still larger ground, and fully sensible of the intimate connexion which the one bears to the other, opens his attack upon the universities themselves, and with a salvo which is not very intelligible, would not absolutely put them up to sale, but would have them better managed or encouraged less.' In other words, he would take from them the prosperity they have long been accustomed to enjoy, and withdraw the patronage which it is as much the interest for the state to bestow, as for the universities to receive. And for what? because they are not better managed. The charge is indeed an imposing one. But supposing it to be strictly true, is the consequence so just, that they are not to be encouraged? The argument would prove too much; as well might it be asserted, that neither Church or State are to be encouraged in case of mismanagement on the part of its spiritual and temporal rulers; and thus would a new fallacy be added to the link of unhappy causes which engender a spirit of revolutionary discord. Every lover of his country, every friend to humanity must deprecate so fatal a conclusion. It is not by withdrawing our patronage from great and important establishments, that we can improve the system of a state, or promote the cause of human happiness, it is by a prudent, tem, perate and judicious application of approved and well-timed remedies to the wounds which time or negligence may have occasioned,

casioned. These remedies have been applied with success, the wounds have been materially healed already, an improvement in discipline has been established, and the result is already such as to warrant yet further improvements. But we will pursue this subject no farther: those who would at all events erect a new edifice on the ruins of a long-established system will scarcely listen to us: those on the contrary to whom its preservation is dear, will readily acquiesce in our sentiments, without any further attempt on our parts to support them.

But though we can never approve the subject matter of these satires of Cowper, and lament the weak prejudice, or erroneous feelings which produced them, we can always bear testimony to his honest abhorrence of corruption in every shape, even when his zeal was the most misguided, and his discretion the least exerted. His love of virtue was fervent and unfeigned: the genius of his poetry was in unison with his feelings, it was seldom very highly exalted; but it always breathes an equal and amiable fervour of spirit, which if it does not excite our enthu siasm, possesses the more attractive power of winning our love. Add to these qualities the matchless delicacy which pervades the greater part of his compositions, and we need not wonder that he should have become a general favourite with the public, and the peculiar idol of the female sex.

But let not an excessive admiration of Cowper supersede or detract from the praise which ought ever to be given to the extraordinary excellence of our earlier poets. It is too much the fashion to depreciate the eminent talents of those great masters of poetry who embodied in their voluminous works every variety of genius, feeling, and talent. Those beauties which we deservedly admire in our modern poets, whether they are rapid or sustained, of a lively or a melancholy cast: in the pages of Scott or Byron: Campbell or Southey, are to be found in the works of Milton, not indeed so highly seasoned, and so carefully prepared to please our delicate taste, but uttered with a superior and more commanding genius, equally calculated to please, if we will but learn to be pleased. We do not now mean to enlarge on the superiority of Milton, much less to compare him with Cowper: but it is due to the pre-eminence of Milton, and every other great master of poetical excellence, to remind all true lovers of poetry at the conclusion of the present article, that if they are content to reverence the author of Paradise Lost only at a humble distance, like an image erected on the loftiest pillar of a heathen temple, they are altogether unworthy of the pleasure to be derived from a nearer approach, and a more intimate study of his perfections: but if through a blind admiration of the author of the Task, they are tempted

to

to detract one tittle from the high fame of Milton, they may perhaps find a few who will coincide in their opinions, but the just merits of Cowper can receive no real accession of praise, and must inevitably lose by the comparison.

ART. III. Memoirs of the Life of the Rev. Richard Price, D. D. F. R. S. By William Morgan, F. R. S. 189 pp. Huuter. 1815.

8vo.

No great injury, we think, would have been done to the republic of letters, or to the interests of mankind, if the subject of these Memoirs had been suffered to rest in oblivion. Possessed, as he was, with a rooted antipathy to all establishments, ecclesiastical and civil; carried away with the wildest notions of reform; and even anxious to fall under the censure of the laws, that he might attain what he deemed a crown of martyrdom: there seems to be little in his character worth recording;-much, which real friendship would wish for ever to conceal.

Those persons, however, who inherit Dr. Price's sentiments, (which, we trust, for the honour and safety of our country, are entertained by a very small part of the community,) will probably be delighted with Mr. Morgan's tribute to the memory of his uncle. They have been accustomed to consider this singular man in the triple capacity of philosopher, politician, and divine; for in all these departments the Doctor would fain have been regarded as an oracle. But politics were his favourite pursuit; and the circumstances of his time were such, as to keep his restless spirit in a state of perpetual agitation: cherished and applauded by some of the factious leaders of his day, he seems to have considered himself as a great champion of the rights and liberties of mankind. The majority of his dissenting brethren, and the admirers of the French Revolution, regarded him perhaps with no less veneration than we feel towards a Clarendon, a Somers, or a Pitt. But whatever might have been the sentiments of many of his deluded contemporaries, very few, we believe, are now to be found, who worship this politico-theological Doctor as the god of their idolatry. The falshood of his speculations, and the danger of his principles, must be now evident to all men of reflection and discernment. Notwithstanding his sagacious predictions, the French Revolution, with all its delightful appendages of murder, sacrilege, and rapine, has not rendered the world more free or happy than before. It has taught them, indeed, an awful lesson of wisdom, which

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can never be forgotten by the latest posterity. It has proved, that when the contexture of a state has been once effectually torn in pieces, a fierce, unrelenting, and lawless despotism is the natural result; and it has sensibly warned us to turn aside with abhorrence from the advocates of anarchy and sedition.

The work before us is rather to be considered as a panegyric upon Dr. Price, than as a piece of biography. It is written, for the most part, in a correct and easy stile; but it contains very little matter that can, in any sense, be deemed interesting. The Doctor was born in Glamorganshire, in 1723, and received the rudiments of his education among the dissenting teachers of the neighbourhood. His father is represented as a rigid Calvinist; who bequeathed the bulk of his fortune to one son, leaving his widow, and six other children, in a state of comparative indigence. Richard, who was one of these, after studying under various preceptors in Wales, was removed by the assistance of his uncle to a dissenting academy near London. Here, in process of time, he became a minister, and officiated in different congregations, particularly at Dr. Chandler's meeting, in the Old Jewry. In the year 1756, he received an accession of fortune, and the following year he married a Miss Blundell. About the same time, he published a treatise on the "Foundation of Morals," in which he controverted some doctrines of Mr. Hume. After this, he turned his attention to philosophical subjects, and

"A proposal," says Mr. Morgan, "was made to him by the booksellers to publish a complete edition of all Sir Isaac Newton's works. But his diffidence of his own abilities, his want of spirits to engage in so arduous an undertaking, and possibly his former prejudices against, devoting too much of his time and attention to subjects not immediately connected with his profession, determined him to decline a work, which has been since executed by a person who laboured under none of these difficulties." P. 29.

Dr. Price, we doubt not, had many good reasons for declining to become the editor of Newton; but this, we think, might have been expressed, without casting a severe and unprovoked reflection on the memory of Bishop Horsley. Mr. M. seems to have sought an occasion to calumniate that great man, and to insinuate, that he did not scruple to devote his time and attention to subjects unconnected with his profession. Whether this sarcastic blow was aimed at the Bishop alone, or at the whole body of English Clergy, is not perhaps quite clear; the former supposition is most probable, as the name of Horsley must for ever strike a panic into the admirers of Priestley and Price.

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