the House of Lords, or been able to get over the diffidence which fettered his utterance in general society, his genius would probably have evaporated in conversation, or been contented with the humbler glory of contributing to the Rolliad or the Connoisseur. As the present collection relates to no particular set of subjects or occurrences, but exhibits a view of the author's miscellaneous correspondence with the few intimate friends he had retained, it is impossible to give any abstract of its contents, or to observe any order in the extracts that may be made from it. We shali endeavour, however, to introduce as great a variety as possible. Though living altogether in retirement, Cowper appears to have retained a very nice perception of the proprieties of conduct and manners, and to have exercised a great deal of acuteness and sagacity upon the few subjects of practical importance which he had occasion to consider. The following sketch is by a fine and masterly hand; and proves how much a bashful recluse may excel a gentleman from the grand tour in delicacy of observation and just notions of politeness. I men, would alarm him no more than the chairs they sit on. Such is the effect of custom."-p. 60. There is much acuteness in the following examination of Dr. Paley's argument in favour of the English hierarchy. "He says first, that the appointment of various orders in the church, is attended with this good consequence, that each class of people is supplied with a clergy of their own level and description, with whom they may live and associate on terms of equality. But in order to effect this good purevery parish; one for the gentry, one for the traders pose, there ought to be at least three parsons in and mechanics, and one for the lowest of the vulgar. Neither is it easy to find many parishes. where the laity at large have any society with their minister at all: this therefore is fanciful, and a mere invention. In the next place, he says it gives a in the respect paid to their superiors. Much good dignity to the ministry itself; and the clergy share may such participation do them! They themselves know how little it amounts to. The dignity a curate derives from the lawn sleeves and square cap of his diocesan, will never endanger his humility. have been justly regarded as prizes, held out to inAgain- Rich and splendid situations in the church, vite persons of good hopes and ingenious attainments.' Agreed. But the prize held out in the Scripture, is of a very different kind; and our ecclesiastical baits are too often snapped by the worth. less, and persons of no attainments at all. They not to those acquirements, by which only the minare indeed incentives to avarice and ambition, but isterial function can be adorned, zeal for the salva "Since I wrote last, we had a visit from did not feel myself vehemently disposed to receive him with that complaisance, from which a stranger generally infers that he is welcome. By his man ner, which was rather bold than easy, I judged that there was no occasion for it; and that it was a trifletion of men, humility, and self-denial. Mr. Paley which, if he did not meet with, neither would he and I therefore cannot agree."—pp. 172, 173. feel the want of. He has the air of a travelled man, One of the most remarkable things in this but not of a travelled gentleman; is quite delivered volume, is the great profusion of witty and from that reserve, which is so common an ingre- humorous passages which it contains; though dient in the English character, yet does not open they are usually so short, and stand so much himself gently and gradually, as men of polite behaviour do, but bursts upon you all at once. He connected with more indifferent matter, that talks very loud; and when our poor little robins it is not easy to give any tolerable notion of hear a great noise, they are immediately seized with them by an extract. His style of narrative is an ambition to surpass it-the increase of their vociferation occasioned an increase of his; and his, incidents are generally too trifling to bear a particularly gay and pleasing, though the inreturn, acted as a stimulus upon theirs-neither side entertained a thought of giving up the contest, which separation from the whole tissue of the corbecame continually more interesting to our ears respondence. We venture on the following during the whole visit. The birds, however, sur-account of an election visit. vived it, and so did we. They perhaps flatter themselves they gained a complete victory, but I believe Mr. would have killed them both in another hour."-pp. 17, 18. Cowper's antipathy to public schools is well known to all the readers of his poetry. There are many excellent remarks on that subject in these letters. We can only find room for the following. "A public education is often recommended as the most effectual remedy for that bashful and awkward restraint, so epidemical among the youth of our country. But I verily believe, that, instead of being a cure, it is often the cause of it. For seven or eight years of his life, the boy has hardly seen or conversed with a man, or a woman, except the maids at his boarding house. A gentleman or a lady, are consequently such novelties to him, that he is perfectly at a loss to know what sort of behaviour he should preserve before them. He plays with his buttons, or the strings of his hat, he blows his nose, and hangs down his head, is conscious of his own deficiency to a degree that makes him quite unhappy, and trembles lest any one should speak to him, because that would quite overwhelm him. Is not all this miserable shyness the effect of his education? To me it appears to be so. If he saw good company every day, he would never be terrified at the sight of it, and a room full of ladies and gentle water finds its way into creeks and holes of rocks, "As when the sea is uncommonly agitated, the which in its calmer state it never reaches, in like manner the effect of these turbulent times is felt even at Orchard-side, where in general we live as undisturbed by the political element, as shrimps or cockles that have been accidently deposited in some hollow beyond the water-mark, by the usual dashing of the waves. We were sitting yesterday after dinner, the two ladies and myself, very composedly, and without the least apprehension of any such in trusion, in our snug parlour, one lady knitting, the other netting, and the gentleman winding worsted, when, to our unspeakable surprise, a mob appeared before the window, a smart rap was heard at the door, the boys halloo'd, and the maid announced Mr. G. Puss* was unfortunately let out of her box, so that the candidate, with all his good friends at his heels, was refused admittance at the grand entry, and referred to the back door, as the only possible way of approach. "Candidates are creatures not very susceptible of affronts, and would rather, I suppose, climb in at the window than be absolutely excluded. In a minute, the yard, the kitchen, and the parlour were filled. Mr. G- advancing toward me, shook me by the hand with a degree of cordiality that was extremely seducing. As soon as he, and as many His tame hare. as could find chairs were seated, he began to open | the intent of his visit. I told him I had no vote, for which he readily gave me credit. I assured him I had no influence, which he was not equally inclined to believe, and the less no doubt because Mr. Gaddressing himself to me at that moment, informed me that I had a great deal. Supposing that I could woman, a very old one, the first night that she The correspondence of a poet may be ex pected to abound in poetical imagery and sentiments. They do not form the most prominent parts of this collection, but they occur in sufficient profusion; and we have been agreeably surprised to fird in these let ters the germs of many of the finest passages in the "Task." There is all the ardour of poetry and devotion in the following passages. not be possessed of such a treasure without knowing it, I ventured to confirm my first assertion, by say. ing, that if I had any, I was utterly at a loss to imagine where it could be, or wherein it consisted. Thus ended the conference. Mr. G-squeezed me by the hand again, kissed the ladies, and withdrew. He kissed likewise the maid in the kitchen; and seemed upon the whole a most loving, kissing, kind-hearted gentleman. He is very young, genteel, and handsome. He has a pair of very good eyes in his head, which not being sufficient as it "Oh! I could spend whole days, and moon-light should seem for the many nice and difficult purposes nights, in feeding upon a lovely prospect! My eyes of a senator, he had a third also, which he wore drink the rivers as they flow. If every human besuspended by a riband from his button-hole. The ing upon earth could think for one quarter of an boys halloo'd, the dogs barked, puss scampered; hour, as I have done for many years, there might the hero, with his long train of obsequious followers, perhaps be many miserable men among them, but withdrew. We made ourselves very merry with not an unawakened one could be found, from the the adventure, and in a short time settled into our arctic to the antarctic circle. At present, the dif former tranquillity, never probably to be thus interference between them and me is greatly to their rupted more. I thought myself, however, happy advantage. I delight in baubles, and know them to in being able to affirm truly, that I had not that in-be so; for, rested in, and viewed without a referfluence for which he sued, and for which, had I been possessed of it, with my present views of the dispute between the Crown and the Commons, I must have refused him, for he is on the side of the former. It is comfortable to be of no consequence in a world where one cannot exercise any without disobliging somebody."-pp. 242-244. Melancholy and dejected men often amuse themselves with pursuits that seem to indicate the greatest levity. Swift wrote all sorts of doggrel and absurdity while tormented with spleen, giddiness. and misanthropy. Cowper composed John Gilpin during a season of most deplorable depression, and probably indited the rhyming letter which appears in this collection, in a moment equally gloomy. For the amusement of our readers, we annex the concluding paragraph, containing a simile, of which we think they must immediately feel the propriety. "I have heard before of a room, with a floor laid upon springs, and such like things, with so much art, in every part, that when you went in, you was forced to begin a minuet pace, with an air and a grace, swimming about, now in and now out, with a deal of state, in a figure of eight, without pipe or string, or any such thing; and now I have writ, in a rhyming fit, what will make you dance, and as you advance, will keep you still, though against your will, dancing away, alert and gay, till you come to an end of what I have penn'd; which that you may do, ere madam and you, are quite worn out, with jiggling about, I take my leave; and here you receive a bow profound, down to the ground, from your humble me-W. C."-p. 89. As a contrast to this ridiculous effusion, we add the following brief statement, which, notwithstanding its humble simplicity, appears o us to be an example of the true pathetic. "You never said a better thing in your life, than when you assured Mr. of the expedience of a gift of bedding to the poor of Olney. There is no one article of this world's comforts with which, as Falstaff says, they are so heinously unprovided. When a poor woman, whom we know well, carried home two pair of blankets, a pair for herself and husband, and a pair for her six children, as soon as the children saw them, they jumped out of their straw, caught them in their arms, kissed them, blessed them and danced for joy." Another old ence to their Author, what is the earth, what are the planets, what is the sun itself, but a bauble? Better for a man never to have seen them, or to see them with the eyes of a brute, stupid and unconscious of what he beholds, than not to be able to say, 'The Maker of all these wonders is my friend!' Their eyes have never been opened, to see that they are trifles; mine have been, and will be, till they are closed for ever. They think a fine estate, a large conservatory, a hot-house rich as a West Indian garden, things of consequence; visit them with pleasure, and muse upon them with ten times more. I am pleased with a frame of four lights, doubtful whether the few pines it contains will ever be worth a farthing; amuse myself with a greenhouse, which Lord Bute's gardener could take upon his back, and walk away with; and when I have paid it the accustomed visit, and watered it, and given it air, I say to myself This is not mine, 'tis a plaything lent me for the present, I must leave it soon."-pp. 19, 20. "We keep no bees; but if I lived in a hive, I bees in the neighbourhood resort to a bed of mig. should hardly hear more of their music. All the nonette, opposite to the window, and pay me for the honey they get out of it, by a hum, which, though rather monotonous, is as agreeable to my ear, as the whistling of my linnets. All the sounds that nature utters are delightful, at least in this country. I should not perhaps find the roaring of lions in Africa, or of bears in Russia, very pleasing; but I know no beast in England whose voice I do not account musical, save and except always the braying of an ass. The notes of all our birds and fowls please me, without one exception. I should not indeed think of keeping a goose in a cage, that I might hang him up in the parlour, for the sake of his melody; but a goose upon a common, or in a farm yard, is no bad performer. And as to insects, if the black beetle, and beetles indeed of all hues, will the rest; on the contrary, in whatever key they keep out of my way, I have no objection to any of sing, from the knat's fine treble to the bass of the humble bee, I admire them all. Seriously, however, it strikes me as a very observable instance of providential kindness to man, that such an exact accord has been contrived between his ear and the sounds with which, at least in a rural situation, it is almost every moment visited. All the world is sensible of the uncomfortable effect that certain sounds have upon the nerves, and consequently upon the spirits; and if a sinful world had been filled with such as would have curdled the blood, and have made the sense of hearing a perpetual in convenience, I do not know that we should have had a right to complain.-There is somewhere in infinite space, a world that does not roll within the precincts of mercy; and as it is reasonable, and even scriptural, to suppose that there is music in heaven, in those dismal regions perhaps the reverse of it is found. Tones so dismal, as to make woe itself more insupportable, and to acuminate even despair. But my paper admonishes me in good time to draw the reins, and to check the descent of my fancy into deeps with which she is but too familiar. pp. 287-289. The following short sketches, though not marked with so much enthusiasm, are conceived with the same vigour and distinctness. "When we look back upon our forefathers, we seem to look back upon the people of another nation, almost upon creatures of another species. Their vast rambling mansions, spacious halls, and painted casements, their Gothic porches smothered with honeysuckles, their little gardens and high walls, their box-edgings, balls of holly, and yew. tree statues, are become so entirely unfashionable now, that we can hardly believe it possible that a people who resembled us so little in their taste, should resemble us in any thing else. But in every thing else, I suppose, they were our counterparts exactly; and time, that has sewed up the slashed sleeve, and reduced the large trunk-hose to a neat pair of silk stockings, has left human nature just where it found it. The inside of the man, at least, has undergone no change. His passions, appetites, and aims are just what they ever were. They wear perhaps a handsomer disguise than they did in days of yore; for philosophy and literature will have their effect upon the exterior; but in every other respect a modern is only an ancient in a different dress." p. 48. "I am much obliged to you for the voyages, which I received, and began to read last night. My imagination is so captivated upon these occasions, that I seem to partake with the navigators in all the dangers they encountered. I lose my anchor; my main-sail is rent into shreds; I kill a shark, and by signs converse with a Patagonian, and all this without moving from the fire-side. The principal fruits of these circuits that have been made around the globe, seem likely to be the amusement of those that staid at home. Discoveries have been made, but such discoveries as will hardly satisfy the expense of such undertakings. We brought away an Indian, and, having debauched him, we sent him home again to communicate the infection to his country-fine sports to be sure, but such as will not defray the cost. Nations that live upon breadfruit, and have no mines to make them worthy of our acquaintance, will be but little visited for the future. So much the better for them; their poverty is indeed their mercy."-pp. 201, 202. Cowper's religious impressions occupied too great a portion of his thoughts, and exercised too great an influence on his character, not to make a prominent figure in his correspondence. They form the subject of many eloquent and glowing passages; and have sometimes suggested sentiments and expressions that cannot be perused without compassion and regret. The following passage, however, is liberal and important. "No man was ever scolded out of his sins. The heart, corrupt as it is, and because it is so, grows angry if it be not treated with some management and good manners, and scolds again. A surly mastiff will bear perhaps to be stroked, though he will growl even under that operation; but if you touch him roughly, he will bite. There is no grace that the spirit of self can counterfeit with more success than a religious zeal. A man thinks he is fighting for Christ, when he is fighting for his own notions He thinks that he is skilfully searching the hearts of others, while he is only gratifying the malignity of his own; and charitably supposes his hearers destitute of all grace, that he may shine the more in his own eyes by comparison."-pp. 179, 180. The following, too, is in a fine style of eloquence. "We have exchanged a zeal that was no better than madness, for an indifference equally pitiable and absurd. The holy sepulchre has lost its importance in the eyes of nations called Christian; not because the light of true wisdom had delivered but because he that was buried in it is no longer them from a superstitious attachment to the spot, regarded by them as the Saviour of the world. The exercise of reason, enlightened by philosophy, has cured them indeed of the misery of an abused understanding; but, together with the delusion, they have lost the substance, and, for the sake of the lies that were grafted upon it, have quarrelled with the truth itself. Here, then, we see the ne plus ultra of human wisdom, at least in affairs of religion. It enlightens the mind with respect to non-essentials; but, with respect to that in which the essence of Christianity consists, leaves it perfectly in the dark. It can discover many errors, that in different ages have disgraced the faith; but it is only to make way for the admission of one more fatal than them all, which represents that faith itself as a delusion. Why those evils have been permitted, shall be known hereafter. One thing in the meantime is certain; that the folly and frenzy of the professed disciples of the gospel have been more dangerous to its interest than all the avowed hostilities of its adversaries."-pp. 200, 201. There are many passages that breathe the very spirit of Christian gentleness and sober judgment. But when he talks of his friend Mr. Newton's prophetic intimations (p. 35.), and maintains that a great proportion of the ladies and gentlemen who amuse themselves with dancing at Brighthelmstone, must nec essarily be damned (p. 100.), we cannot feel the same respect for his understanding, and are repelled by the austerity of his faith. The most remarkable passage of this kind, however, is that in which he supposes the death of the celebrated Captain Cook to have been a judgment on him for having allowed himself to be worshipped at Owhyhee. Mr. Hayley assures us, in a note, that Cowper proceeded altogether on a misapprehension of the fact. The passage, however, is curious, and shows with what eagerness his powerful mind followed that train of superstition into which his devotion was sometimes so unfortunately betrayed. "The reading of those volumes afforded me much amusement, and I hope some instruction. No observation, however, forced itself upon me with more violence than one, that I could not help making, on the death of Captain Cook. God is a jealous God; and at Owhyhee the poor man was content to be worshipped! From that moment, the remarkable interposition of Providence in his favour, was converted into an opposition that thwarted all his purposes. He left the scene of his deification, but was driven back to it by a most violent storm, in which he suffered more than in any that had preceded it. When he departed, he left his worshippers still infatuated with an idea of his godship, consequently well disposed to serve him. At his return, he found them sullen, distrustful, and mysterious. A trifling theft was com mitted, which, by a blunder of his own in pursuing the thief after the property had been restored, was magnified to an affair of the last importance. One of their favourite chiefs was killed, too, by a blunder. Nothing, in short, but blunder and mistake attended him, till he fell breathless into the water and then all was smooth again! The world indeed will not take notice, or see that the dispensation bore evident marks of divine displeasure; but a mind, I think, in any degree spiritual, cannot overlook them."-pp. 293, 294. From these extracts, our readers will now be able to form a pretty accurate notion of the contents and composition of this volume. Its chief merit consists in the singular ease, elegance, and familiarity with which every thing is expressed, and in the simplicity and sincerity in which every thing appears to be conceived. Its chief fault, perhaps, is the too frequent recurrence of those apologies for dull letters, and complaints of the want of subjects, that seem occasionally to bring it down to the level of an ordinary correspondence, and to represent Cowper as one of those who make every letter its own subject, and correspond with their friends by talking about their correspondence. Besides the subjects, of which we have exhibited some specimens, it contains a good deal of occasional criticism, of which we do not think very highly. It is not easy, indeed, to say to what degree the judgments of those who live in the world are biassed by the opinions that prevail in it; but, in matters of this kind, the general prevalence of an opinion is almost the only test we can have of its truth; and the judgment of a secluded man is almost as justly convicted of error, when it runs counter to that opinion, as it is extolled for sagacity, when it happens to coincide with it. The critical remarks of Cowper furnish us with instances of both sorts; but perhaps with most of the former. His admiration of Mrs. Macaulay's History, and the rapture with which he speaks of the Henry and Emma of Prior, and the compositions of Churchill, will not, we should imagine, attract the sympathy of many readers, or suspend the sentence which time appears to be passing on those performances. As there is scarcely any thing of love in the poetry of Cowper, it is not very wonderful that there should be nothing of it in his correspondence. There is something very tender and amiable in his affection for his cousin Lady Hesketh; but we do not remember any passage where he approaches to the language of gallantry, or appears to have indulged in the sentiments that might have led to its employment. It is also somewhat remarkable, that during the whole course of his retirement, though a good deal embarrassed in his circumstances, and frequently very much distressed for want of employment, he never seems to have had an idea of betaking himself to a profession. The solution of this difficulty is probably to be found in the infirmity of his mental health: but there were ten or twelve years of his life, when he seems to have been fit for any exertion that did not require a public appearance, and to have suffered very much from the want of all occupation. This volume closes with a fragment of a poem by Cowper, which Mr. Hayley was for tunate enough to discover by accident among some loose papers which had been found in the poet's study. It consists of something less than two hundred lines, and is addressed to a very ancient and decayed oak in the vicinity of Weston. We do not think quite so highly of this production as the editor ap pears to do; at the same time that we con fess it to be impressed with all the marks of Cowper's most vigorous hand: we do not know any of his compositions, indeed, that affords a more striking exemplification of most of the excellences and defects of his peculiar style, or might be more fairly quoted as a specimen of his manner. It is full of the conceptions of a vigorous and poetical fancy expressed in nervous and familiar language but it is rendered harsh by unnecessary in versions, and debased in several places by the use of antiquated and vulgar phrases. The following are about the best lines which it contains. "Thou wast a bauble once; a cup and ball, Which babes might play with; and the thievish jay Seeking her food, with ease might have purloin'd Thy rudiments should sleep the winter through." "Time made thee what thou wast-King of the woods! And time hath made thee what thou art-a cave For owls to roost in! Once thy spreading boughs O'erhung the champaign, and the numerous flock That graz'd it, stood beneath that ample cope Uncrowded, yet safe-sheltered from the storm! No flock frequents thee now; thou hast outliv'd Thy popularity; and art become (Unless verse rescue thee awhile) a thing Forgotten, as the foliage of thy youth!'' "One man alone, the father of us all, Drew not his life from woman; never gaz'd, On the whole, though we complain a little of the size and the price of the volumes now before us, we take our leave of them with reluctance; and lay down our pen with no little regret, to think that we shall review no more of this author's productions. HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS. (October, 1808.) Memoirs of the Life of COLONEL HUTCHINSON, Governor of Nottingham Castle and Town Representative of the County of Nottingham in the Long Parliament, and of the Town of Nottingham in the First Parliament of Charles II. &c.; with Original Anecdotes of many of the most distinguished of his Contemporaries, and a summary Review of Public Affairs: Written by his Widow, Lucy, daughter of SIR ALLEN APSLEY, Lieutenant of the Tower, &c. Now first published from the Original Manuscript, by the REV. JULIUS HUTCHINSON, &C. &c. To which is prefixed, the Life of MRS. HUTCHINSON, written by Herself, a Fragment. pp. 446. 4to. London, Longman and Co.: 1806. E have not a tolerably correct notion of the character of the people of England in the reign of Charles I., and the momentous periods which ensued. This character depended very much on that of the landed proprietors and resident gentry; and Mrs. Hutchinson's memoirs are chiefly valuable, as containing a picture of that class of the community. We have not often met with any thing more | that history to more recent transactions, if we interesting and curious than this volume. Independent of its being a contemporary narrative of by far the most animating and important part of our history, it challenges our attention as containing an accurate and luminous account of military and political affairs from the hand of a woman; as exhibiting the most liberal and enlightened sentiments in the person of a puritan; and sustaining a high tone of aristocratical dignity and pretension, though the work of a decided republican. The views which it opens into the character of the writer, and the manners of the age, will be to many a still more powerful attraction. Of the times to which this narrative belongs-times to which England owes all her freedom and all her glory-we can never hear too much, or too often: and though their story has been transmitted to us, both with more fulness of detail and more vivacity of colouring than any other portion of our annals, every reflecting reader must be aware that our information is still extremely defective, and exposes us to the hazard of great misconception. The work before us, we think, is calculated in a good degree to supply these deficiencies, and to rectify these errors. By far the most important part of history, as we have formerly endeavoured to explain, is that which makes us acquainted with the character, dispositions, and opinions of the great and efficient population by whose motion or consent all things are ultimately governed. After a nation has attained to any degree of intelligence, every other principle of action becomes subordinate; and, with relation to our own country in particular, it may be said with safety, that we can know nothing of its past history, or of the applications of Agriculture was at this period still the chief occupation of the people; and the truly governing part of society was consequently the rustic aristocracy. The country gentlemen-who have since been worn down by luxury and taxation, superseded by the activity of office, and eclipsed by the opulence of trade-were then all and all in England; and the nation at large derived from them its habits, prejudices, and opinions. Educated almost entirely at home, their manners were not yet accommodated to a general European standard, but retained all those national peculiarities which united and endeared them to the rest of their countrymen. Constitutionally serious, and living much with their families, they had in general more solid learning, and more steady morality than the gentry of other countries. Exercised in local magistracies, and frequently assembled for purposes of national cooperation, they became conscious of their power, and jealous of their privileges: and having been trained up in a dread and detestation of that popery which had been the recent cause of so many wars and persecutions, their religious sentiments had contracted somewhat of an austere and polemical character, and had not yet settled from the ferment of reformation into tranquil and regulated piety. It was upon this side, accordingly, that they were most liable to error: 1 |