to be ascribed wholly to his 'aberration of mind,' and that 'it has been erroneously charged on his religious opinions.' We do not doubt that it was owing to, or rather that it was an aberration of mind, but we contend that its gloom was infinitely deepened by his imagining, that a state either of depression or of excitement was to be regarded as an evidence. of God's favour or anger; and by his belief that he might expect, and might perceive the immediate operation of the Divine Spirit upon his own mind. If this be insanity,—and we are not disposed to deny it,—it is a form of it which is found in many who are not possessed of Cowper's sensibility; in many who, with a presumption quite as insane as his despair, believe that nothing can shut the gates of mercy' to them; in many who, in accordance with the opinion of those who assume exclusively the appellation of orthodox and evangelical Christians, believe that their corrupt natures have been regenerated and born again of the Holy Ghost, that they cannot fall away, and in short that their period of probation is terminated, and they are sure of admittance into the kingdom of Heaven. It is this mad presumption upon the strength of their virtuous principles, and the favour of Heaven, which we should be much more inclined to call insanity, than the timid and humble despondency of Cowper; we think the latter a much more rational effect of such tenets, than the former. Indeed, we know not how it is possible for any one to imagine, that he has been able to detect the operation of the spirit upon his own mind, who is aware that human nature is any thing less than perfect, or who has any faith in the declaration of our Saviour; 'The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth; so is every one that is born of the Spirit.' But this is a species of self-deception, than which none is more common, though it very rarely produces the same pernicious consequences, which were its effect upon the acutely sensitive mind of Cowper. This effect was doubtless heightened by the sympathy, and spiritual counsels of Mr. Newton, whose reputation for good sense would also have been spared a severe blow, we think, by the omission of at least a portion of the letters in these two volumes. He must have written something very impertinent; and, considering the tenderness and delicacy of Cowper's feelings, something very cruel, to have called forth the following defence, not merely of an innocent, but of a praiseworthy effort to enliven his melancholy solitude.. 'Your letter to Mrs. Unwin, concerning our conduct and the offence taken at it in our neighbourhood, gave us both a great deal of concern; and she is still deeply affected by it. Of this you may assure yourself, that if our friends in London have been grieved, they have been misinformed; which is the more probable, because the bearers of intelligence hence to London are not always very scrupulous concerning the truth of their reports; and that if any of our serious neighbours have been astonished, they have been so without the smallest real occasion. Poor people are never well employed, even when they judge one another; but when they undertake to scan the motives and estimate the behaviour of those, whom Providence has exalted a little above them, they are utterly out of their province and their depth. They often see us get into lady Hesketh's carriage, and rather uncharitably suppose that it always carries us into a scene of dissipation, which, in fact, it never does. We visit, indeed, at Mr. Throckmorton's, and at Gayhurst ; rarely, however, at Gayhurst, on account of the greater distance : more frequently, though not very frequently, at Weston, both because it is nearer, and because our business in the house, that is making ready for us, often calls us that way. The rest of our journeys are to Beaujeat turnpike and back again; or, perhaps, to the cabinet-maker's at Newport. As Othello says, "The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more.' What good we can get or can do in these visits, is another question; which they, I am sure, are not at all qualified to solve. Of this we are both sure, that under the guidance of Providence we have formed these connexions; that we should have hurt the Christian cause, rather than have served it, by a prudish abstinence from them; and that St. Paul himself, conducted to them as we have been, would have found it expedient to have done as we have done. It is always impossible to conjecture, to much purpose, from the beginnings of a providence, in what it will terminate. If we have neither received nor communicated any spiritual good at present, while conversant with our new acquaintance, at least no harm has befallen on either side; and it were too hazardous an assertion even for our censorious neighbours to make, that, because the cause of the Gospel does not appear to have been served at present, therefore it never can be in any future intercourse, that we may have with them. In the mean time I speak a strict truth, and as in the sight of God, when I say, that we are neither of us at all more addicted to gadding than heretofore. We both naturally love seclusion from company, and never go into it without putting a force upon our disposition; at the same time I will confess, and you will easily conceive, that the melancholy incident to such close confinement, as we have so long endured, finds itself a little relieved by such amusements as a society so innocent affords. You may look round the christian world, and find few, I believe, of our station, who have so little intercourse as we with the world that is not Christian. 'We place all the uneasiness that you have felt for us upon this subject, to the account of that cordial friendship of which you have long given us proof. But you may be assured, that notwithstanding all rumours to the contrary, we are exactly what we were when you saw us last:-I, miserable on account of God's departure from me, which I believe to be final; and she, seeking his return to me in the path of duty, and by continual prayer. 6 Yours, my dear friend, W. C.' The weakness of mind of Cowper is exemplified as much, we think, in making, as the impropriety of Mr. Newton in calling for such excuses; and there are several other letters in this injudicious collection, which show little besides this undeniable characteristick of the poet's mind, especially those which relate to politicks. We observed too, a rather remarkable instance of self deception, as it appears to us, in the intimation that the humour, which breaks out upon all occasions, both in his letters and his poetry, was assumed for the purpose of alluring his readers to the more serious parts of his composition.* If any man was ever humourous because he could not help it, we should think Cowper was in that predicament, for even in these most sad and solemn letters to Mr. Newton, he cannot restrain the tendency of his mind to playfulness. But Cowper is too much a favourite of ours to incline us to be cinically severe in pointing out or enlarging upon what seem to us faults or errours, and indeed our censure should rather fall upon those ill judging friends in whose hands Cowper's papers were left, and who have unnecessarily and unkindly betrayed to the world those weaknesses and foibles, which it is generally thought the part of friendship to conceal. If a little discretion had been exercised with regard to these letters, and if the publishers had been contented to have produced one volume instead of two, we should have Vol. I. p. 77, 78. thought more highly of them, and more pleasantly of Cowper. But we are desirous of showing our readers that all is not dark and gloomy in this correspondence. The kind affections, and gentle humour of Cowper, when not repressed by physical or mental derangement, overflowed in language which unites maturity and naiveté, grace, and ease, and purity, with uncommon richness and directness. It is not often that what was intended for the perusal of an individual is adapted to the amusement of the public, but it is impossible not to be pleased with the good feeling and good sense which often appear in Cowper's correspondence, and with one or two examples we must close this notice. 'TO MRS. HILL. Feb. 19, 1781. DEAR MADAM, 'When a man, especially a man that lives altogether in the country, undertakes to write to a lady he never saw, he is the awkwardest creature in the world. He begins his letter under the same sensations he would have, if he was to accost her in person, only with this difference, that he may take as much time as he pleases, for consideration, and need not write a single word that he has not well weighed and pondered beforehand, much less a sentence that he does not think supereminently clever. In every other respect, whether he be engaged in an interview or in a letter, his behaviour is, for the most part, equally constrained and unnatural. He resolves, as they say, to set the best leg foremost, which often proves to be what Hudibras calls His extraordinary effort only serves, as in the case of that hero, to throw him on the other side of his horse; and he owes his want of success, if not to absolute stupidity, to his most earnest endeavour to secure it. 'Now I do assure you, Madam, that all these sprightly effusions of mine stand entirely clear of the charge of premeditation, and that I never entered upon a business of this kind with more simplicity in my life. I determined, before I began, to lay aside all attempts of the kind I have just mentioned; and being perfectly free from the fetters that self-conceit, commonly called bashfulness, fastens upon the mind, am, as you see, surprisingly brilliant. 'My principal design is to thank you in the plainest terms, which always afford the best proof of a man's sincerity, for your obliging present. The seeds will make a figure hereafter in the stove of a much greater man than myself, who am a little man, with no stove at all. Some of them, however, I shall raise for my own amuse 6 ment, and keep them, as long as they can be kept, in a bark heat, which I give them all the year; and in exchange for those I part with, I shall receive such exotics as are not too delicate for a greenhouse. 'I will not omit to tell you, what, no doubt, you have heard already, though, perhaps, you have never made the experiment, that leaves gathered at the fall are found to hold their heat much longer than bark, and are preferable in every respect. Next year I intend to use them myself. I mention it, because Mr. Hill told me, some time since, that he was building a stove, in which, I suppose, they will succeed much better than in a frame. 'I beg to thank you again, Madam, for the very fine salmon you was so kind as to favour me with, which has all the sweetness of a Hertfordshire trout, and resembles it so much in flavour, that, blindfold, I should not have known the difference. 'I beg, Madam, you will accept all these thanks, and believe them as sincere as they really are. Mr. Hill knows me well enough to be able to vouch for me, that I am not over much addicted to compliments and fine speeches; nor do I mean either the one or the other, when I assure you that I am, dear Madam, not merely for his sake, but your own, "Your most obedient and affectionate servant, 'TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. W. C.' MY DEAR FRIEND, Aug. 16, 1781. 'I might date my letter from the green-house, which we have converted into a summer parlour. The walls hung with garden mats, and the floor covered with a carpet, the sun too in a great measure excluded, by an awning of mats which forbids him to shine any where except upon the carpet, it affords us by far the pleasantest retreat in Olney. We eat, drink, and sleep, where we always did; but here we spend all the rest of our time, and find that the sound of the wind in the trees, and the singing of birds, are much more agreeable to our ears, than the incessant barking of dogs and screaming of children. It is an observation that naturally occurs upon the occasion, and which many other occasions furnish an opportunity to make, that people long for what they have not, and overlook the good in their possession. This is so true in the present instance, that for years past I should have thought myself happy to enjoy a retirement even less flattering to my natural taste than this in which I am now writing; and have often looked wistfully at a snug cottage, which, on account of its situation at a distance from noise and disagreeable objects, seemed to promise me all I could wish or expect, so far as happiness may be said to be local; never once adverting to this comfortable nook, which affords me all that could be found in the most sequestered hermitage, with |