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been more intent upon seizing the pictures of those images, which in the euthusiasm of genius crowded upon her mind, than in polishing what she had written.

This objection, indeed, may be applied to most of her poems, and those passages which abound in animated, and impressive imagery, throw into stronger contrast the few lines which appear inharmonious and prosaic.

It must still, however, be allowed, notwithstanding these objections, that nothing can exceed the charms of the poetry, in many of the passages; thus in the Maid of Arragon, the Old Arragonian King, the Fair Osmida, the Moorish Prince, and the French De Couci, are so many distinct portraits, coloured by the vivid pen of genius; whilst in the tragedy of Albina, the characters of Old Westmoreland and Gondibert, are portrayed in the grandest style, and display an intimate acquaintance with the age of chivalry.

The wonderful facility of this lady's pen, and the rapidity with which (if we may be allowed the term) the flashes of her genius were transferred to her paper, is not less remarkable than the strength and variety of its powers; her productions, indeed, from that sprightliness and ease, by which they are characterized, exhibit those spontaneous coruscations of genius, which all the laboured exertions of art must despair to accomplish.

Ipse volens facilisque sequetur, Si te Fata vocant; aliter non viribus ullis Viacere, nec duro poteris convellere ferro.

In all the walks of the legitimate drama, Mrs. Cowley has left ample specimens, to entitle her to rank with the first dramatic authors of the day. Scorning to attempt ephemeral fame, to administer to the perverted taste of the times, to court the acclamation of the galleries, and implore the aid of the grimacer, the painter, or the machinist, Mrs. Cowley, like the veteran Cumberland, has never deserted those banners of legitimate comedy, under which she first enlisted.

Equally at home in the sublime and pathetic, as in the humorous, she entered at once into the feelings of a hero, or a monarch, with as much success as into those of a slopseller, or a coquette. Doiley, in the farce of, Who's the Dupe, is perhaps unrivalled on the stage; whilst Gradus, Doricourt, Flutter, Hardy, Lord Sparkle, and the Pendragons, are

all distinct, and highly coloured por

traits.

We must also here, in justice to departed merit, notice her peculiar excel lence in colouring the female character, for proof of this we can safely rest our appeal to her Miss Hardy in the Belles Stratagem, and Olivia in the Bold Stroke for a Husband.

The last hurried effort of this lady's pen, was in unison with the excellence of her heart; it was a little poem in aid of benevolence; an act of charity to one who moved in the humble sphere of sexton of the parish, and whose little property had been swallowed up by the late floods.

This little poem gives a pathetic picture of the poor man's efforts, whilst his cottage was overwhelmed; describes his losses; and delicately claims attention towards one, whose pride was in conflict with his poverty; one whose situation claimed that assistance, which he could not bring himself directly to beg.

From her habits, Mrs. Cowley might truly be termed a most disinterested votary of the Muses; her pen was not guided by mercenary views; she wrote merely for the pleasure she felt in writing. The poem of the Siege of Acre, was given to a respectable bookseller, who asked for it: she reserved none of her manuscripts, nor did she wait to correct them thus her newspaper poetry was written and sent off, frequently within four and twenty hours after the event which had given birth to it.

Her dramatic habits, had given a dramatic hue to all her compositions, and we find her occasionally assuming a fictitious signature, and answering or addressing some love-sick youth, or despairing maid, where existence to her was merely ideal.

In this lady's conversation, (and the writer of this article has had the pleasure of having been occasionally present) there was nothing of that proud superiority which persons, possibly of more learning, but less genius, sometimes assume to awe and intimidate: easy and affable in her manners; it was ever Mrs. Cowley's endeavour to raise to a level with herself, those whose timidity would have placed below it.

Sometimes, indeed, she would enliven the topic under discussion with some sprightly sallies; but these were bright without being dazzling, the spontaneous effusions of genius, ema

nating from an excellent heart, and corrected by a well-regulated mind.

The same ease and affability which distinguished her conversation, characterized her epistolary correspondence, where the ease and familiarity of the style soothed any sense of inferiority, and rendered her letters probably not the least perfect of her compositions.

Mrs. Cowley was married at a very early period to a gentleman, who died in India, a captain in the Company's service, and brother to Mr. Cowley, an eminent merchant, of Cateaton-street.

She has left a son, now at the bar, and a daughter, married in India to the Rev. Dr. Brown, provost of the magnificent college of Calcutta.

The following is a list of her principal known publications, viz,

Epic Poems.-The Maid of Arragon ; Scottish Village; and Siege of Acre.

Tragedies.-Albina, Fate of Sparta. Comedies.-The Runaway; Belles Stratagem; Which is the Man; A Bold Stroke for a Husband; More Ways than One; A Day in Turkey; Both Ends of the Town; Second Thoughts are Best; with the farce of, Who's the Dupe.

These, as they have individually passed the ordeal of criticism, and would be an acquisition to the library, we hope to see republished in a collective shape.

ACCOUNT OF THE LATE

M. X. L.

Mr. THOMAS HOLCROFT, AUTHOR of the ROAD to RUIN, &c.

R. HOLCROFT was born of ob

MR.
scure parentage; insomuch that

we have heard that his immediate an-
cestors spelled their name Ouldcraft,
which he restored to its true orthogra-
phy. The name of Holcroft is of some
eminence in English history, and there
was a Sir Thomas Holcroft, in the reign
of Bloody Queen Mary, who delivered a
protestant from prison and impending
death, at the risk of his own life,

Mr. Holcroft was born in Orangecourt, Leicester-fields, December 22, 1744. His father was a shoe-maker, a calling for which his son always retained a peculiar respect. The honest tradesman in the Road to Ruin, was originally a shoemaker, but at the request of the writer of this article, the author changed his trade, and he is now a hosier. The father of Mr. Holcroft was of an unsettled temper, seldom dwelling long in one place, and the son accompanied him in

all his peregrinations. When Mr. Holcroft was in his teens, he was a servant to the honourable Mr. Vernon, and his chief employment was to ride his master's race-horses, which were in training to run for the plate at Newmarket. He was always afterward much devoted to the art of horsemanship. He was also considerably attached to the study of music, and some time after applied much of his attention to connoisseurship in painting. Mr. Holcroft had an active mind, and was no sooner aware of any path that led to improvement and excellence, than he was anxious to enter into that path. Notwithstanding this, he persevered to the age of twentyfive years, with some little interrup tion, in his father's trade of a shoemaker.

About that period of life, Mr. Holcroft conceived a passion for the stage, and offered his services at the same time to Mr. Charles Macklin, and Mr. Samuel Foote. Foote encouraged him, but Macklin talked to him in so specious a style, and held out to him so many temptations and prospects which were never realized, that he was induced to decide for Macklin and Ireland, a decision which he continued long to repent.

In the profession of a player, Mr. Holcroft continued, not with the most flattering success, till after the production of the play of Duplicity, in 1781. Immediately on the exhibition of this comedy, he withdrew from the stage as an actor, and for several years devoted his attention principally to dramatic composition. His writings of this kind were as follow. 2 The Noble Peasant, an opera.

3. The Choleric Fathers, an opera. 4. The Follies of a Day, a comedy, translated from the French of Beauinarchais. 5. Seduction, a comedy, 1786. 6. The German Hotel, a drama, translation, 1790. 7. The School for Arrogance, a comedy, partly from the French of Destouches, 1791. 8. The Road to Ruin, a comedy, and the best of his dramatic writings, 1792, 9. Love's Frailties, a comedy, 1794. 10. The Deserted Daughter, a comedy, 1795. 11. The Man of Ten Thousand, a comedy, 1796. 12. The Force of Ridicule, a comedy, 1796. 13. He is Much to Blame, a comedy, very successful, 1798. 14. Knave or Not, a comedy, 1798. 15. Deaf and Dumb, a comedy, from the French, very successful, 1801. 16. The Tale of Mystery, an after-piece, from the French, 1802. 17. Hear Both

Sides, a comedy, 1803. 18. The Vindictive Man, a comedy, 1806.

Mr. Holcroft also exercised his talent with advantage to his reputation, in the Novels of Anna St. Ives, published 1792,, and Hugh Trevor, published 1791. He also produced a third novel, entitled, Brian Perdue, in the year 1807.

The public is further indebted to the pen of Mr. Holcroft, for many translations. 1. The Private Life of Voltaire, 12mo. 2. The Memoirs of Baron Trenck, in 3 vols. 12mo. 3. The Secret History of the Court of Berlin, by the Count de Mirabeau, 2 vols. 8vo. 4. Tales of the Castle, by Madame de Genlis, 5 vols. 12mo. 5. The Posthumous Works of Frederic II. King of Prussia, 13 vols. 3vo. 6. An Abridged Display of the Physiognomy of Lavater, 3 large

vols. 8vo.

The great action of the life of Mr. Holcroft, was undoubtedly his voluntary surrender to the indictment for high treason, preferred against him in the autumn of the year 1794. Few persons can now doubt, that if Mr. Pitt's administration had succeeded, at that time, in bringing to capital punishment the twelve persons, many of them not personally known to each other, who were then wantonly and wickedly included in one indictment, the constitution and liberties of England would have been destroyed; and as few persons will refuse to confess that the voluntary surrender of one of the parties, after the grand jury had decided that they should be tried for their lives, was a great and impressive demonstration of conscious innocence, and was the first event, which concurring with many

fortunate circumstances, after the two houses of parliament had voted that there was a conspiracy, and had thus prejudged the accused, saved our country from destruction of the worst sort, on that memorable occasion.

Mr. Holcroft spent the principal part of the years 1799, 1800, and 1801, in Germany and France, and the observations collected by him, in his travels, were afterwards published by him in two volumes, quarto.

He died at his house in Clipstonestreet, Marybone, on the 23d of March. The surviving wife of Mr. Holcroft, is the niece of the celebrated Mercier, author of the Tableau de Paris, and a member of the French legislature.

By this lady Mr. Holcroft has left six young children, the eldest of whom is only nine years of age: these children are unprovided for: but it fortunately happens that their mother, and the unmarried daughter of Mr. Holcroft by a former marriage, a young lady well known for her literary and musical accomplishments, are in many respects singularly well qualified to undertake the management of a school; a task in which, for the support of these six children, they are desirous to engage. A subscription has generously been set on foot for the purpose of supplying them with a sufficient fund to enable them to commence this undertaking, and contributions are received at the bank of Messrs. Marel and Co. Berners-street, London, where the arrangements for applying the monies to the intended purpose, may be seen, and reference made to the particular friends of the deceased.

Extracts from the Port-folio of a Man of Letters. [Communications to this Article are always thankfully received.]

LITERARY COMPOSITION.

HE folowing observations are the

a

(Charpentier) and may serve as a supplement to an article under this head; in Curiosities of Literature, vol. 2, page 443, fifth edition.

The greater number of authors are never contented with their own works: they must change and give a new turn to all they do, however good it may be; the first, is never the good thought; it is that which has undergone many and severe corrections; like the Emperor He

In

liogabulus, who judged of the excellence of a dish by the exorbitance of its price, them much labour and trouble. truth, genius does not owe this kind of people many obligations; for, rejecting all that it offers willingly, they only like what they are obliged to draw out with violence; or, if we may use the expression, with the rack and the torture. Quintilian relates a bon-mot, that Flores said to a young man who was inclined that way. Finding him one day in great grief, he asked him the cause of it; and the

the young man frankly acknowledged to him, that he had been three days seeking for an exordium to a discourse, and that he was now quite in despair, at not having been able to find any thing that pleased him. Is it not, returned Florus, smiling, because you wish to do better than you can? There is certainly a great deal of presumption in this difficult disposition. We reject every thing, because we think every thing unworthy of us; and we act in nearly the same manner as those ladies, who never think that their portraits resemble them, because they think themselves more beautiful than any that can be drawn for them. It often happens, that from self-love, and not from want of knowledge, we have so many faults in our works. Poets and painters, particularly, are liable to have too much affection for their own productions; and to alter any of them, is to them a most painful operation. A poet will clearly see that a thought which struck him, in the warmth of his enthusiasm, is not just, or that it does not suit his subject: but there will be something brilliant in it which pleases him, and which makes him desire to preserve it. He wavers, reason puts the pen in his hand to suppress it; but he is immediately softened, and self-love easily obtains grace for it. Seneca has preserved an example of an author's tenderness in the person of Ovid. Some of his friends beving advised him to repress in his works, two or three of his verses, which did not do him much credit, he consented to it upon condition, that they should find no fault with three verses that he was going to write, privately begging them at the same time to write down those verses they wished to be omitted. Having agreed to these conditions, he found that the three verses his friends had condemned, were the very same for which he had obtained grace; and he declared to them, says Seneca, that he was not ignorant of their defects; but that he could not dislike them. I am astonished that a man who burnt the fifteen books of the Metamorphoses, with the design to suppress them, could be so difficult for

three verses.

The eyes of the vulgar frequently see what escapes those of the learned. It is said of Malherbe, that he consulted the ear of an old domestic; the same thing is related of Molière. Every one knows the esteem of Apelles for the judgment of the people, which he evinced by exposing his finest works to their criticisms,

and by sometimes adopting their opinions. Annibal Caracci often declared, that he had learnt to judge of two pictures of the martyrdom of St. Andrew, which Albano and Domenichino had painted to rival each other, from an old woman, who stopped for sometime with her daughter to sit before the picture of Domenichino, and who afterwards passed silently before that of Albano. The excellent works are those which immediately strike, and which are directed to the heart.

THE FATHERS ATTACKED.

Barbeyrac, the learned translator of Puffendorf, attacked in his preface the blind veneration paid by the Catholics to the Fathers. This of course roused the indignation of the Romish church. Pè e Ceillier published a voluminous defence of these primitive Christians, but which in fact is a continued invective against the Protestants. Barbeyrae retorted with great ingenuity by his "Traité de la Morale des Pères de l'Eglise," a curious work, in which, not satisfied with having attacked their talents, he even aims at their morals. In a chapter to each, he amasses all the ridiculous things he can collect against them.

Justin Martyr, in order to shew the beauty of the cross, says that nothing is done in this world without a cross; that the masts and yards of a ship, and the shape of most instruments, have all crosses; and adds, that what most distinguishes man from the brute creation is, that in an elevated posture he can extend his arms, so as to form a cross with his body.

Irenæus, highly approves of thievery, in justifying the Israelites robbing the Egyptians; for, (says he) whatever we acquire, though unjustly, if we employ it in the service of the Lord, we are jus tified.

Of Clement, of Alexandria, our author has produced a copious fund of absurdities. Clement tediously refutes those who, because the title of children 15 given to Christians, would infer that there was any thing childish in the gospel. This father has a hundred such puerile dis tinctions and dissertations; he makes every part of the Scriptures mystical. He has poured out declamations with respect to manners, and considers the use of looking glasses as idolatry, because Moses forbids the making of any image! This will be sufficient.

Tertullian condemns all theatrical

exhibitions, because, says he, the actor's

buskins

buskins give the lie to C

who told us, that we could not add one cubit to our stature! Tertullian, with all the fathers, considered marriage as criminal; he writes to his wife, that after the resurrection, they will not make use of any voluptuous turpitude, for God has nothing filthy in his presence.

Origen advises us to mutilate our manhood, if we would become good Christians; he not only preached this precept, but, what was still more extravagant, he really set the example. His allegorical explanations of the Scriptures are still more extravagant.

St. Cyprian's continence tormented him terribly, besides the ceaseless importunities of his exasperated lady: He hardly disapproves of suicide; so that had their continence and their suicide prevailed among the Christian sect, (for at that moment christianity can only be considered as a sect), Europe would have been in time quite depopulated.. St. Ambrose oddly observes, that where there are Nuus, there are fewer persons born; and he would increase their number as much as possible. They were so partial to martyrdom, that they accused themselves of crimes, as a stratagem to be put to death.

Such were the fanatic propagators of primitive Christianity. Men who are held in saintly veneration by the bigoted children of Rome, yet who perhaps committed more absurdities than any body of fanatics that have yet appeared. Sometimes they take a passage in the literal sense, and sometimes they accept it in a mystical one; their holy indignation against the heathen, hindered them from dwelling on moral topics; and the fine ethics of the ancient philosophers, with which they might have enriched their miserable writings, were contemned, because they were frequently considered as so many faggots, proper only to be burnt.

Had there not been something more attractive in the nature of Christianity, than the savage piety of these fathers; Christianity would he gradually expired, as a flame dies in its own ashes. But the flame of this religion was nourished by a sweet oil and an agreeable perfume. The females were allured by the flattering honours paid to the Virgin, which convinced them that the sex was not despicable; and the susceptible mind of youth was delighted by the meek character, and the patient sufferings of MONTHLY MAG, 184,

its excellent founder. Conducted by the hand of the invisible Jesus, they walked in a path of roses, and slept in visions of immortality.

ON BOCCACIO, AND HIS DECAMERON. Boccacio was born at a little village near Florence. His birth was obscure; and his father, in consequence of his poverty, sent him against his inclination to a merchant, to learn commerce: he remained with him some time, but having been to Paris with his master, and having seen there a little of the world, he soon became disgusted with his profession. The love of the Belles-lettres made him so neglect all mercantile affairs, that the merchant sent him back to Florence. His father then, by the advice of his friends, made him study the law; but young Boccacio did not find his inclination lead him to that either: he quitted the bar for the study of polite literature and poetry. His genius unfolded itself, and he composed some tolerably good verses; but those of Petrarch, who flourished at that time, appeared to him so infinitely superior, that he resolved to burn his; preferring rather to make one, than to yield to another in that respect; it is true, that if we judge of his talent by the verses at the end of his Decameron, we shall not form a very advantageous idea of his poetry. However, he and Petrarch were great friends; for Petrarch constantly wore a ring on his finger, on which was the portrait of Boccacio; and the latter wore one, on which was the portrait of Petrarch.

Boccacio was handsome and well made; and his manners were charming. He was passionately fond of the women, as we may see by his works, and he was also much beloved by them; amongst others by the natural daughter of the king of Naples, from whom it is said, he received the greatest favours, and who is so celebrated in his works under the name of Fiammetta.

The Decameron is his master-piece; this work is full of fine and delicate thoughts, his expressions are happy, and he gives an air of gallantry to all he says; but we cannot too much admire the purity of his style; the Italians, fastidious as they are on this point, still read it with pleasure; and they have hired readers, or professors, who explain it. It is to be wished we could judge as favorably of his morals; but in some parts he pushes libertinism too far. Unfortunately, if we were to take away these parts, we should take from зв

Boccacio

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