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ever considers her rank in the literary world must wonder that she has done so much."

A period of nine years elapsed between these publications, and the next appearance of Mrs. Barbauld before the world, and then she attracted very little notice. The struggle made by the protestant dissenters in 1790, for a repeal of the corporation and test acts, drew a vast number of pamphleteers into the field of controversy; and many ingenious tracts were printed on both sides. At any other time, perhaps, the subject would not have kindled so much animosity as it did in the present instance, when the French revolution gave the question at issue more than ordinary interest. It is a curious fact, that some of the old and orthodox dissenters, on this occasion, either kept themselves neutral, or appeared directly hostile to the petitioners for the repeal. In consequence of this schism, if the difference may be so called, Mrs. Barbauld addressed a "Letter to the Opponents of the Repeal;" in which she canvassed the offensive acts with considerable ability, and treated the defenders of them with sarcastic severity.

A short time after this, her pen was employed on a topic more suited to its powers, in "A Poetic Epistle to William Wilberforce, Esq. on the Rejection of the Bill for the Abolition of the Slave Trade." This vigorous and pathetic performance had scarcely issued from the press, when another subject excited the zeal of the fair authoress. That extraordinary man, Gilbert Wakefield, having drawn general attention to a piece, in which he asserted that Christians are not bound to attend any public worship, and that, in fact, the setting apart places for such a service, or a set of men to conduct it, is repugnant to religious liberty, gave great offence even to his warmest admirers and oldest friends, among whom was Mrs. Barbauld, who had contracted an intimacy with him when he was a tutor in the academy at Warrington. Shocked at a position which, in her opinion, tended, by the subversion of social piety, to impede the moral improvement of mankind, she felt it her incumbent duty to repel the poison by a remonstrance; but it is painful to reflect, that, instead of producing a

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conviction in the mind of Mr. Wakefield, it had the contrary effect, and Mrs. Barbauld found that she lost a friend by her judicious and temperate" Reflections on the Enquiry into the Expediency and Propriety of Public or Social Worship."

The biographer of Mr. Wakefield has said, with what propriety we shall not stop to examine, that the "basis of his divinity was philology;" and there is reason enough to believe, that having made classical literature his study, he held cheap every other kind of knowledge. We are then told that "in the progress of his speculations, he had been led to form notions con cerning the expediency and propriety of public worship, extremely different from those of every body of Christians, whether in sects or establishments ; and as he was incapable of thinking one thing and practising another, he had sufficiently made known his sentiments on this subject, as well in conversation, as by abstaining from attendance upon every place of religious assembly. They who were well acquainted with him, knew that, in his own breast, piety was one of the most predominant affections; but the assembling for social worship had, for so many ages, been regarded as the most powerful instrument for the support of general religion, that to discourage it was considered as of dangerous example, especially in a person engaged in the education of youth." Mr. Wakefield was, at this period of his life, classical tutor in the dissenting college at Hackney, but, as the publication of his sentiments was in direct opposition to the very nature of that institution, and tended to subvert all foundations of a similar kind, his dismissal from the situation naturally took place. Besides this, he lost, on account of his very singular opinions, the only two private pupils which he had any reason to expect would have been continued under his care.

Perhaps a stronger instance of the necessity of social religion could not be adduced than in the history of this very learned man. That he was upright in his principles, and free from vice, cannot be called in question; but his high attainments only made him insufferably vain and dogmatical; and his moral system was stoicism bordering upon gloomy misanthropy. Whatever notion he took up, and it

was generally in a sudden manner, he | mosity among friends and townsmen, asserted boldly, and persevered in it the more vehemently, when it ran counter to the commonly received sentiments of mankind. Thus,

"Stiff in opinion, aways in the wrong," Wakefield, with great talents that might have been useful, passed through life an object of general notice, with- | out commanding respect or attracting

esteem.

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or introduced the poison of distrust amidst the freedom and security of social life, we stand this day before the Lord; and if our brother hath ought against us, "let us go first, and be reconciled to our brother, and then come and offer our gift."

Another performance written by Mrs. Barbauld, at this period, we shall here give entire, as a happy specimen of her genius for delicate satire and allegorical composition. It was thrown upon the world without a name; and of those who may have already read it, few, if any, have suspected to whom they were indebted for the entertainment which this jeu d'esprit afforded.

"Dialogue between Madam Cosmogonia and a Philosophical Enquirer of the 18th Century.

January 1, 1793.

to

"E. I rejoice, my good madam, see you. You bear your years extremely well. You really look as fresh and blooming this morning, as if you were but just out of your leading-strings, and yet you have, I forget how many centuries, upon your shoulders.

C. Do not you know, son, that speople of my standing are by no means fond of being too nicely questioned about their years? Besides, my age is a point by no means agreed upon.

To return to the more particular subject of this sketch. The French revolution seems to have excited a lively interest in the mind of Mrs. Barbauld, and to have operated, at the time, rather more strongly upon her feelings than might have been expected in a person of her judgment. The manner in which she communi"cated her opinions, on this subject, to the world, was, however, rather extraordinary. It was in the form of a sermon, with the following title, "Sins of the Government, Sins of the Nation; or a Discourse for the Fast appointed on April 19th, 1793. By a Volunteer." The text of this curious oration is of a very indefinite nature, and might apply to a vast variety of topics. It is Deut. xxix. 10. Ye stand this day, all of you, before the Lord." The essay is rather of a political than theological character, and exhibits, throughout, the admiration in which the ingenious writer regarded the great change that had recently taken place on the continent. The following passage, however, in the tract, is of a better description C. That is true; but every body than the rest, and is, at all times, well does not go by your register. The worthy the consideration of persons people who live eastward of us, and who suffer themselves to be influenced have sold tea time out of mind, by by the spirit of party. "You who the Great Wall, say I am older by a have, on this occasion, given warm vast deal; and that long before the and unqualified declarations of attach-time when your people pretend I was ment to the existing system, you have born, I had near as much wisdom and done well.-You, who have denounced learning as I have now. abuses, and declared your wishes for reform, you have done well likewise, provided each of you has acted from the sincere, unbiassed conviction of his own mind. But if you have done it lightly, and without judgment, you have done ill;-if against judgment, worse; if by any improper influence you have interfered with the liberty of your neighbour or your dependant, and caused him to act against his judgment and his conscience, worse still. If the ferment of society has stirred up a spirit of rancour and ani

E. I thought it was set down in the church register?

E. I do not know how that matter might be; one thing I am certain of, that you did not know your letters then; and every body knows that these tea-dealers, who are very vain, and want to go higher than any body else for the antiquity of their family, are noted for lying.

C. On the other hand, old ISAAC, the great chronicler, who was so famous for casting a figure, used to say, that the register itself had been altered, and that he could prove I was much younger than you have really reckoned

me to be. It may be so; for my part, I cannot be supposed to remember so far back. I could not write in my early youth, and it was a long time before I had a pocket almanack to set down all occurrences in, and the ages of my children, as I do now.

E. Well: your exact age is not so material; but there is one point, which I confess I wish much to ascertain. I have often heard it asserted, that as you increase in years, you grow wiser and better; and that you are, at this moment, more candid, more liberal, a better manager of your affairs, and, in short, more amiable in every respect, than ever you were in the whole course of your life; and others,-you will excuse me, madam,-pretend that you are almost in your dotage, that you grow more intolerable every year you live; and that, whereas, in your childhood you were a sprightly innocent young creature, that rose with the lark, and lay down with the lamb, and thought or said no harm of any one; you are become suspicious, selfish, interested, fond of nothing but indulging your appetites, and continually setting your own children together by the ears for straws. Now, I should like to know where the truth lies?

C. As to that, I am, perhaps, too nearly concerned to answer you properly. I will, therefore, only observe, that I do not remember the time when I have not heard exactly the same contradictory assertions.

E. I believe the best way to determine the question will be by facts. Pray be so good as to tell me how you have employed yourself in the different periods of your life: from the earliest time you can remember, for instance?

C. I have a very confused remembrance of living in a pleasant garden, full of fruit, and of being turned out because I had violated the injunctions that were laid upon me. After that, I became so very naughty that I got a severe ducking, and was in great danger of being drowned.

E. A hopeful beginning, I must allow! Pray what was the first piece of work you recollect being engaged in?

C. I remember setting myself to build a prodigious high house of cards, which I childishly thought I could raise up to the very skies. I

piled them up very high, and at last left off in the middle, and had my tongue slit for being so self-conceited. Afterwards, I baked dirt in the sun, and resolved to make something very magnificent, I hardly knew what; so I built a great many mounds in the form of sugar-loaves, very broad at bottom and pointed at top. They took me a great many years to make, and were fit for no earthly purpose when they were done. They are still to be seen; if you choose to take the trouble of going so far. Travellers call them my FOLLY.

E. Pray what studies took your attention when you first began to learn?

C. At first, I amused myself, as all children do, with pictures; and drew, or rather attempted to draw figures oflions and serpents, and men with the heads of animals, and women with fishes' tails; to all which I affixed a meaning often whimsical enough. Many of these my first scratches, are still to be seen upon old walls and stones, and have greatly exercised the ingenuity of the curious to find out what I could possibly mean by them. Afterwards, when I had learned to read, I was wonderfully entertained with stories of giants, griffins, and mermaids; and men and women turned into trees, and horses that spoke, and of an old man that used to eat up his children, till his wife deceived him by giving him a stone to eat, instead of one of them; and of a conjuror that tied up the wind in bags, and

E. Hold, hold, my good madam; you have given me a very sufficient proof of that propensity to the marvellous which I have always remarked in you. I suppose, however, you soon grew too old for such nursery stories as these.

C. On the contrary, I amused myself with putting them into verse, and had them sung to me on holidays; and, at this very day, I make a point of teaching them to all my children, in whose education I take any pains.

E. I think I should rather whip them for employing their time so idly. I hope, at least, these pretty stories kept you out of mischief?

C. I cannot say they did; I never was without a scratched face, or a bloody nose, at any period I can remember.

E. Very promising dispositions truly?

C. My amusements were not all so mischievous. I was very fond of stargazing, and telling fortunes, and trying a thousand tricks for good luck, many of which have made such an impression on my mind, that I remember them even to this day.

E. I hope, however, your reading was not all of the kind you have mentioned?

C. No. It was at some very famous races, which were held every four years for my diversion, and which I always made a point to be at, that a man once came upon the race-ground, and read a history book aloud to the whole company; there were, to be sure, a number of stories in it not greatly better than those I have been telling you; however, from that time I began to take to more serious learning, and likewise to reckon and date all my accounts by these races, which, as I told you, I was very fond of.

E. I think you afterwards went to school, and learnt philosophy and mathematics?

C. I did so. I had a great many famous masters.

E. Were you a teachable scholar? C. One of my masters used always to weep when he saw me; another used always to burst into a fit of laughter. I leave you to guess what they thought of me.

E. Pray what did you do, when you were in middle age? That is usually esteemed the most valuable part of life.

C. I somehow got shut up in a dark cell, where I took a long nap. E. And after you waked

C. I fell a disputing with all my might.

E. What were the subjects that interested you so much?

C. Several.

E. Pray let us have a specimen? C. Whether the light of Tabor was created or uncreated; whether one be a number; whether men should cross themselves with two fingers or with three; whether the creation was finished in six days, because it is the most perfect number; or whether six is the most perfect number, because the creation was finished in six days; whether two and one make three, or only one.

E. And pray, what may be your opinion of this last proposition particularly?

C. I have by no means made up my mind about it; in another century, perhaps, I may be able to decide upon the point.

E. These debates of yours had one advantage, however; you could not possibly put yourself in a passion, on such kind of subjects.

C. There you are very much mistaken. I was constantly in a passion upon one or other of them; and if my opponent did not agree with me, my constant practice was to knock him down, even if it were in the church. I have the happiness of being able to interest myself in the most indifferent question, as soon as I am contradicted upon it. I can make a very good dispute, out of the question whether the preference be due to blue or green, in the colours of a jockey's cap; and would desire no better cause of quarrel than whether a person's name should be spelt with C, with Q, or with K.

E. These constant disputes must have had a very bad effect on your younger children. How do you hope ever to have a quiet house?

C. And yet, I do assure you, there is no one point that I have laboured more than that important one of family harmony.

E. Indeed!

C. Yes; for the sake of that order and unanimity which have always been dear to me, I have constantly insisted, that all my children should sneeze and blow their noses at the same time, and in the same manner.

E. May I presume to ask the reason of this injunction?

C. Is it possible you do not see the extreme danger, as well as indecorum, of suffering every one to blow his nose his own way? Could you trust any one with the keys of your offices, who sneezed to the right when other people sneezed to the left; or to the left, when they sneezed to the right?

E. I confess, I am rather dull in discerning the inconvenience that would ensue; but pray have you been able to accomplish this desirable uniformity?

C. I acknowledge I have not; and indeed, I have met with so much obstinate resistance to this my wise regulation, that, to tell you the truth, I am almost on the point of giving it up. You would hardly believe the perverseness my children have shewn on the occa sion; blowing their noses, locked up

hat, and a bunch of keys by his side ?

in their rooms, or in dark corners about the house, in every possible | way; so that, in short, on pretence of C. It is true. He used to frighten colds, tender noses, or want of pocket | me by setting his arms a-kimbo, and handkerchiefs, or one plea or another, swearing most terribly; besides which, I have been obliged to tolerate the un- he was always threatening to put me complying, very much against my will. in a dark-hole, if I did not do as he However, I contrived to shew my dis- | would have me. He has conjured approbation, at least, of such scandal - | many pence out of my pocket, I assure ous irregularities, by never saying, you; and he used to make me believe God bless you, if a person sneezes in the the strangest stories! But I have now family contrary to established rule. pretty nearly done with him; he dares not speak so big as he used to do; hardly a shoe-black will pull off his hat to him now; it is even as much as he can do to keep his own tight upon his head; nay, I have been assured, that the next high wind will certainly blow it off.

E. I am glad, at least, you are, in this respect, got a little nearer to common sense. As you seem to have been of so imperious a disposition, I hope you were not trusted with any mischievous weapons?

C. At first I used to fight with clubs and stones; afterwards with other weapons; but, at length, I contrived to get at gunpowder, and then I did glorious mischief.

E. Pray had you never any body who taught you better?

C. Yes, several wise men, from time to time, attempted to mend my manners, and reform me, as they

called it.

E. You must doubtless have made great advances in the art of reasoning, from the various lights and experiments of modern times: pray what was the last philosophical study that engaged your attention?

C. One of the last was a system of quackery, called Animal Magnetism. E. And what in theology?

C. A system of quackery, called

E. And how did you behave to them? | Swedenborgianism. C. Some I hunted about; some I poisoned; some I contrived to have thrown into prison; some I made bonfires of; others I only laughed at. It was but the other day, that one of them wanted to give me some hints for the better regulation of my family, upon which I pulled his house down. I was often, however, the better for the lesson, though the teacher had seldom the pleasure of seeing it.

E. And pray what are you doing at this moment?

C. I am going to turn over quite a new leaf. I am singing, Ca Ira.

E. I have heard it said you are very partial to your children, that you pamper some, and starve others. Pray who are your favourites ?

C. Generally those who do the most mischief.

E. Had you not once a great favourite, called Louis, whom you used to style the immortal man?

C. I had so. I was continually repeating his name. I set up a great number of statues to him, and ordered that every one should pull off his hat to them as he went by.

E. And what has become of them

now?

C. The other day, in a fit of spleen, I kicked them all down again.

E I think I have read, that you were once much under the influence of an old man, with a high-crowned

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E. I do not know whether you are going to turn over a new leaf or no, but I am sure, from this account, it is high time you should. All I can say is, that, if I cannot mend you, I will endeavour to take care you do not spoil me; and, one thing more, that wish you would lay your commands on Miss Burney, to write a new novel, and make you laugh."

I

In 1795, we meet with Mrs. Barbauld in the walk of criticism, as the editor of Akenside's "Pleasures of Imagination,” to which she prefixed an essay, written in a vigorous style, and evincing as much philosophical acuteness as true poetical taste.

This edition of Akenside was followed, soon after, by one, in a similar form, of the entire poems of Collins; the introductory essay, prefixed to which, is entitled to a still greater share of praise, for the power of mind and delicacy of sentiment displayed in it.

An enterprising publisher having, in 1804, purchased of the heirs of

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