distinguish Britons from foreigners: he was grave and thoughtful, but also, at times, full of dry humour; be was attached to a retired life; not very fond of society, but more disposed to commune with his own thoughts. It appears to us, that if we reflect on these features in the character of Gray, and, moreover, recollect that he was a man of very great learning, and that his taste and intellectual habits were almost entirely formed by the classical writers of Greece and Rome, we shall discover the sources of his poetry, and the causes which stampt upon it its peculiar character. With the exception of his Elegy in a Country Church Yard,-one or two small pieces published in his Life by Mason, and his pieces of humour,the sternness (if the expression may be used) of his classical taste seems to have borne down the original and innate bent of his mind, and feelings of his heart; but in his Elegy he shines forth a truly British poet, with that pensiveness and melancholy which, to those who do not permit them to gain the mastery over them, afford most exquisite delight, and which are among the most sacred parts of the British moral character.

The poetry of Collins is evidently of two species: in his Dirge there is the same tone of feeling which is displayed in Gray's Elegy; and considering the circumstances of Collins's life, and the melancholy close of it, we are surprised at not finding more poetry of this description in his writings. His Odes take a much more lofty flight; but, like all poetry of this very high cast, they rather raise astonishment and admiration, than excite those feelings which, by filling the soul completely, leave no room for astonishment or admira

tion, or even the recollection either of the poet or ourselves. In his Odes he certainly is superior to Gray: his painting of the passions is executed with much more ease, aud brings forth the objects on the canvass much more like life: we are also disposed to think, that in his Dirge he excels the Elegy of Gray, in warming the heart more completely, and bringing forth its emotions more pure, and unmixed with gross and vulgar feelings.

Both these poets are highly illustrative of the British character, and confirm, we apprehend, the truth and justice of the remarks that we offered in the first Chapter of this retrospect. The classical learning and taste of Gray, and the application necessary to acquire them, as well as the habits, which during their acquisition must have been formed,-were not powerful enough to root out his thoughtfulness, and the other qualities characteristic of the British intellectual and moral character, which he naturally possessed; the same remark may be made with regard to Collins. But with the exception of the Elegy of the former, and the Dirge of the latter, and a few other pieces of each, their writings cannot become popular, even in that nation of whose essential character they partook so largely; for in them, this character is affected by causes which, not operating on their readers in general, preclude them from understanding in their full sense, or relishing in all their exquisiteness, the more elaborate, refined, and classical pieces of these poets.

It is far otherwise with Goldsmith; all the warmth and magic of home,-all those feelings which attach us to our nearest relations— to our dearest friends-to the spor

on

on which we were born, or where our earliest associations were formed, -or to our native land,—are depicted in the most exquisite and alJuring manner by this poet. In his poetry there is nothing grand or sublime his thoughts are distinguished by unadorned simplicity;his descriptions of natural scenery, and his delineations of the feelings and emotions of the human breast, are so unaffected, and come forth to our view in so easy and familiar a manner, that we almost forget that we are reading; the scenery rises before our eyes; the feelings and emotions fill our breasts. Hence "Goldsmith must always be one of the most popular of our poets. His verse too is admirably suited to the subjects of his poetry; and his language is sufficiently adorned, without being adorned so much as to draw off the attention from the matter to it.

We have thus attempted to draw the character, and to sketch the state of British Literature, during what may be called the middle of the eighteenth century: our plan admits, our object only requires, that we should point out those writers who, as it were, from their eminence, stand forth the most prominent figures in this period.

From the remarks which we have made, as well as from the reflections and recollections to which, we trust, these remarks will give rise in the minds of our readers, it will appear, that both the prose writers and the poets of this period differed very materially from those of the period immediately preceding. It is hardly necessary, we should imagine, to point out the principal marks of this difference ;-in the period immediately preceding that of which we have just treated, Britain has no

historian of whom she can boast; and her other writers in prose are more distinguished for the taste, ease, and elegance of their compositions, than for their vigour, comprehension, and depth. With respect to poetry, Pope, as we have already remarked, introduced an artificial species of it, which prevailed even beyond the period of which we have just been treating, with the exception of the great poets whose character we have attempted to draw. Those poets, however, constituted a most decided and glorious exception: their writings almost bring back poetry to the state in which it existed in the age of Shakespeare, the older Dramatists, and Milton.

There is one circumstance connected with the history of the intellectual state of the middle of the eighteenth century, which ought not to be passed over; we mean the wonderful correctness, purity, and even elegance of style, which began to spring up very generally in almost all writers, soon after George III. came to the Throne, and which, at the close of the period of which we have been treating, were visible even in the writers for the daily press, and other fugitive publications. In the early part of the eighteenth century, there are few authors whose mode of composition or style will bear close investigation; the former, then, was often destitute of method and arrangement, and the latter was still more frequently ungrammatical, prolix, involved, colloquial, and vulgar. Perhaps no circumstance indicates more clearly or unequivocally the progress which had been made in the culture of intellectual habits and pursuits. Education must have been more generally and carefully attended to;~

reading

reading must have been a more favourite employment; and, moreover, the thoughts must have been more frequently and closely directed to literary topics,-before such a favourable change could have taken place, even in the mere act of composition. But that it was not confined to the mere act of composition, will be apparent, if we examine the observations, reflections, and arguments, contained even in the mere ephemeral productions of the period of which we have been treating, and contrast them with those which appear in the writings of the preceding period: from this examination and comparison, it will, if we mistake not, be seen, that common-place

thoughts, and very obvious arguments, are not so frequent as they used to be. At the same time, we are well aware of the remark, that when literature is spread over a greater surface than formerly, it must be more superficial; but we do not admit its truth, at least, in its full and intended sense. In the early periods of our literature, there were a few master minds, far surpassing, in compass of intellect, all who have succeeded; but, except these, intellect and information were at a low ebb. In the succeeding period, the quantity of intellect and information was much increased,— but it was divided among a much greater number.

CHAPTER

T is a just and well grounded mankind on the most important subjects, and especially such opinions as influence their practice, are so interwoven with one another, that whatever cause or circumstance displaces or weakens one of them, shakes the foundation of them all. This must necessarily be the case, whether those opinions are the result of investigation and inquiry, and depend on obvious and well digested first principles; or whether they are merely the effects of prejudice, or of the circumstances in which we have been placed, the education that we have received, and the example which has been set before us.

In the first instance, the sound. ness of the principle, or general truth, on which any set of opinions rests, must lose its hold on our judgment and belief, if any of those opinions are found to be erroneous: and in the second instance, where opinions proceed rather from circumstances acting upon us, than from investigation and inquiry ;— if one link of the association is broken, the chain must necessarily be weakened.

Hence arises the advantage, or rather the necessity, of keeping the mind as free as possible from all er

roneous opinions which are in the

conduct, lest, if their unsoundness be discovered, not only they may be rejected, but also others that are actually accurate and just.

The truth of these remarks will be rendered sufficiently obvious, if we attend to the effects of the French Revolution on the moral and political philosophy of the age. Into both these species of philosophy, ignorance and prejudice had introduced many articles of faith, which were not only erroneous, but also detrimental to the highest interests of mankind. Interwoven with these erroneous and hurtful opinions, were others that were sound and beneficial. But the French Revolution, by the violence of its action on the human mind, shook not only the former, but also the latter to an equal degree. The truth of the above remarks may be still further illustrated and confirmed by what is known frequently to have taken place among Catholics, as soon as they discovered the falsehood of any one of their peculiar articles of faith; in such a case they most frequently pass from the extreme of belief, to the extreme of unbelief. The belief which, from their infancy, they were accustomed to give to the most absurd doctrines

doctrines of their religion,-and that belief which they gave to the truth of Christianity in general, resting on the same foundation, and both being equally the result of prepossession,-whenever their understanding becomes open to the absurdity and falsehood of the former, it is too frequently hurried on to reject the latter also.

It is not, therefore, to be wondered at, that the French Revolution acted so powerfully on those branches of human knowledge which relate more directly to the duties of man, and to the principles of government, as for a time to change their whole character;— nor is it matter of greater wonder that, in the reaction which took place, after the effects of the Revolution had in a great measure passed away, the opinions on these points should become more rigid and orthodox than they even were before this event took place.

Long before the French Revolution, writers on morals had entered into discussions regarding the nature of moral obligation, and the foundation of moral duty; but these discussions were purely speculative; and indeed, if examined to the bot tom, and stript of the obscure and ill-defined language in which they were generally expressed, they might be shewn to be all of them nearly of the same purport. But the discussions on the nature of moral obligation, the foundation of moral duty, and other connected topics, which sprung either from the French Revolution, or from the same causes that gave birth to it, were of a much bolder and more audacious character and bearing.

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Many of our readers must recollect the impression which was made, not merely on the literary and

thinking world, by Godwin's Political Justice, but even on those classes who previously had never ventured to hint a doubt to themselves on the topics agitated in that work: it shook the ancient faith most powerfully; and though reflection pointed out the untenable nature of the principle on which all its doctrines and arguments proceeded, it was long before the ancient faith resumed its influence on those who had once been induced to deviate from it by the perusal of the Political Justice. The effects of the scepticism or heterodoxy thus generated by this and similar works, may, in our opinion, still be traced : but these effects are of a very opposite nature; in some writings they are displayed by a more cherished and stubborn adherence to the ancient faith, in all its articles, sound or unsound, just or erroneous; whilst in others, they are made manifest by such an amalgamation of the articles of the ancient and modern faith, as, being not the result of prejudice, but the work of minds at once patient, enlightened, bold, and cautious, may fairly be supposed to contain a larger portion of truth than is to be found either in the ancient faith, or in that which for a time supplanted it.

The effects of the French Revolution, or, to speak with more philosophical precision, of those causes and circumstances which generated that event, on the science of politics, in all its branches and bearings, were still more decided and unequivocal. With respect to the origin of government, the doctrines entertained by writers on that most important subject, have undergone various and extraordinary changes. In a preceding Chapter, we have adverted to the notions that were broached