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he had not ordered to be destroyed, were published, which but too plainly indicated that his great intellectual qualities were disgraced by notions of infidelity.

Dr. Smith's philosophical doctrines are vastly inferior, in value, to the language and illustrations he employs in enforcing them. He has been styled the most eloquent of modern moralists; and his 'Theory' is embellished with such a variety of examples, with such true pictures of the passions, and of life and manners, that it may be read with pleasure and advantage by those who, like the poet Gray, 'can not see in the darkness of metaphysics.' His leading doctrine, that sympathy must necessarily precede our moral approbation or disapprobation, has been generally abandoned. To derive our moral sentiments,' says Dr. Brown, 'which are as universal as the actions of mankind that come under our review, from the occasional sympathies that warm or sadden us with joys, and griefs, and resentments which are not our own, seems to me very nearly the same sort of error as it would be to derive the waters of an overflowing stream from the sunshine or shade which may occasionally gleam over it.' As a specimen of the flowing style and moral illustrations of Dr. Smith, we give the following extract:

THE RESULTS OF MISDIRECTED AND GUILTY AMBITION.

To attain to this envied situation, the candidates for fortune too frequently abandon the paths of virtue; for unhappily, the road which leads to the one, and that which leads to the other, lie sometimes in very opposite directions. But the ambitious man flatters himself that, in the splendid situation to which he advances, he will have so many means of commanding the respect and admiration of mankind, and will be enabled to act with such superior propriety and grace, that the lustre of his future conduct will entirely cover or efface the foulness of the steps by which he arrived at that elevation. In many governments the candidates for the highest stations are above the law, and if they can attain the object of their ambition, they have no fear of being called to account for the means by which they acquired it. They often endeavour, therefore, not only by fraud and falsehood, the ordinary and vulgar arts of intrigue and cabal, but sometimes by the perpetration of the most enormous crimes, by murder and assassination, by rebellion and civil war, to supplant and destroy those who oppose or stand in the way of their greatness. They more frequently miscarry than succeed, and commonly gain nothing but the disgraceful punishment which is due to their crimes. But though they should be so lucky as to attain that wished-for greatness, they are always most miserably disappointed in the happiness which they expect to enjoy in it. It is not ease or pleasure, but always honour, of one kind or another, though frequently an honour very ill understood, that the ambitious man really pursues. But the honour of his exalted station appears, both in his own eyes and in those of other people, polluted and defiled by the baseness of the means through which he rose to it. Though by the profusion of every liberal expense, though by excessive indulgence in every profligate pleasure-the wretched but usual resource of ruined characters; though by the hurry of public business or by the prouder and more dazzling tumult of war he may endeavour to efface, both from his own memory and from that of other people, the remembrance of what he has done, that remembrance never fails to pursue him. He invokes in vain the dark and dismal powers of forgetfulness and oblivion. He remembers himself what he has done, and that remembrance tells him that other people must likewise remember it. Amidst all the gaudy pomp of the most ostentatious greatness, amidst the venal and vile adulation of the great and of the learned VOL. II.-2 N

amidst the more innocent though more foolish acclamations of the common people, amidst all the pride of conquest and the triumph of successful war, he is still secretly pursued by the avenging furies of shame and remorse; and while glory seems to surround him on all sides, he himself, in his own imagination, sees black and foul infamy fast pursuing him, and every moment ready to overtake him from behind. Even the great Cæsar, though he had the magnanimity to dismiss his guards, could not dismiss his suspicions. The remembrance of Pharsalia still haunted and pursued him. When, at the request of the senate, he had the generosity to pardon Marcellus, he told that assembly that he was not unaware of the designs which were carrying on against his life; but that, as he had lived long enough both for nature and for glory, he was contented to die, and therefore despised all conspiracies. He had, perhaps, lived long enough for nature; but the man who felt himself the object of such deadly resentment, from those whose favour he wished to gain, and whom he still wished to consider as his friends, had certainly lived too long for real glory, or for all the happiness which he could ever hope to enjoy in the love and esteem of his equals.

WILLIAM HARRIS, a dissenting divine of eminence, was born in Devonshire, in 1720. He became, by his own personal efforts, a very able scholar, and was honored, in 1765, by the university of Glasgow, with the degree of doctor of divinity. His death occurred at Honiton, where he had long resided, on the fourth of February, 1770, before he had reached his fiftieth year.

Dr. Harris published Historical Memoirs of James the First, Charles the First, Oliver Cromwell, and Charles the Second; he prepared the materials for an account of James the Second also, but did not live to complete the task. These works are written in imitation of the manner of Bale, the text being subordinate to the notes and illustrations. An entire page will very frequently contain only a single line of the memoir, the rest being wholly notes. As depositories of original papers, these memoirs are highly valu able; but the original part, is trifling in extent, and written with little merit and no pretension.

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With Bishop Horne, Dr. Priestley, and Sir William Blackstone, we shall close our present remarks.

GEORGE HORNE, the celebrated author of the Commentary on the Book of Psalms, was born at Otham, near Maidstone, where his father was rector, on the first of November, 1730. He was educated at Magdalen College, and was afterwards chosen one of its fellows. At college he devoted himself with unusual attention to the Hebrew language, and to sacred literature; and by warmly embracing the philosophical principles of Hutcheson, which he regarded as deducible from the truths of Scripture, he laid the foundation for much controversy and metaphysical disputation. In 1753, he took orders, and soon distinguished himself as an able and eloquent preacher. In 1768, he was elected president of his college, and made chaplain to the king; and in 1776, became vice-chancellor of the university, the duties of which office he supported with great dignity, for years. In 1781, he was made dean of Canterbury, by Lord North, and eight years afterwards suc

ceeded Bagot, in the see of Norwich. His elevation, unhappily for the church and for posterity, was of short duration. His health had been, for some time, gradually declining, and a paralytic stroke while on a journey to Bath, gave such a shock to his constitution that he never recovered: he died soon after, on the seventeenth of January, 1792, aged sixty-two years. Though censured by some writers for his philosophical principles, still Bishop Horne must ever hold a high rank as a good scholar, an able divine, a most benevolent and amiable man, and above all, a sincere, devoted, and exemplary Christian. The spirit which breathes through the following short sentence in the introduction to the Commentary on the Book of Psalms' is found to pervade the whole of that important work, and is, though brief, an appropriate specimen of the author's style and thought:—

The Psalms of David present religion to us in the most engaging dress; communicating truth which philosophy could never investigate, in a style which poetry can never equal. He who has once tasted their excellencies will desire to taste them again; and he who tastes them oftenest, will relish them best.

This great work, uniting the most extensive erudition with the deepest piety, was first published in 1776, and is still a text-book with theological students and divines. Bishop Horne was the author of many other important works besides his 'Commentary;' among which are Christ and the Holy Ghost Supporters of the Spiritual Life; Considerations on the Projected Reformation of the Church of England; Considerations of the Life and Death of St. John the Baptist, in a series of sermons preached annually at Magdalen College; and Letters on Infidelity. These productions are all marked by the same ease, elegance, and fervor of style, which characterize the great performance on which this author's reputation mainly rests.

DR. PRIESTLEY, a celebrated philosopher and dissenting divine, forms a remarkable contrast with the illustrious prelate just noticed. Restless in spirit, and unstable in his religious principles, he attempted, for singularity's sake, innovations in government and religion; but signally failed in both. Had he confined his attention merely to his philosophical pursuits, his name would have descended to posterity with the greatest lustre.

Joseph Priestley was born at Fieldhead, Yorkshire, in 1733. Being early designed for the ministry among the dissenters, he was placed, with a view to preparation, at Daventry, under the care of Dr. Ashworth; and having closed his studies, he first took charge of a congregation at Needham market, in Suffolk. Thence, however, he soon removed to Nantwich in Cheshire, and in 1761, became professor of Belle Lettres in the Warrington academy. He continued his connection with the academy seven years, and at the expiration of that time removed to Leeds; but two years afterwards accepted the office of librarian and philosophical companion to the Earl of Shelbourne. In this retreat Priestley devoted himself laboriously to meta physical and theological studies; and when he at length, in 1780, separaten

from his noble patron, he retired, on an annual pension of one hundred and fifty pounds, and soon after settled at Birmingham as pastor of a Unitarian congregation. At the period of the French Revolution, in 1791, a mob of brutal loyalists set fire to his house, and destroyed his library, apparatus, and specimens. In consequence of this outrage he left Birmingham, and after passing a year or two in London, emigrated, in 1794, to America, and finally settled at Northumberland, in Pennsylvania. Here he continued to prosecute his studies in science and theology, until his death, which occurred in 1804.

The works of Dr. Priestley were very numerous, and were generally written with much spirit and energy. In 1775, he published an examination of the ethical principles of Dr. Reid and others, designed as a refutation of the doctrine of common sense, said to be employed as a test of truth by the Scottish metaphysicians. In 1777, he published a series of disquisitions on Matter and Spirit, in which he openly supported the material system; and also wrote immediately after in favor of another unpopular doctrine— that of necessity. These works excited so much opposition, that he found it necessary to write a pamphlet annually in their defence. As a chemist Priestley stood, in his day, unrivalled; and his History of Discoveries relative to Light and Colors, and his History of Electricity, are still useful works. As an experimental philosopher also, he stands in the first class; but as a metaphysician, or ethical writer, he holds a subordinate rank.

As a man, Dr. Priestley was of intrepid spirit and untiring industry. One of the critics in the Edinburgh Review draws from his writings a lively picture of that indefatigable activity, that bigoted vanity, that precipitation, cheerfulness, and sincerity, which made up the character of this restless philosopher.' Robert Hall, whose feelings as a dissenter, and an enemy to all religious intolerance and persecution, were enlisted on the side of Priestley, has thus eulogized him in one of his most eloquent sentences:-The religious sentiments of Dr. Priestley appear to me erroneous in the extreme; but I should be sorry to suffer any difference of sentiment to diminish my sensibility to virtue, or my admiration of genius. His enlightened and active mind, his unwearied assiduity, the extent of his researches, the light he has poured into almost every department of science, will be the admiration of that period, when the greater part of those who have favored, or those who have opposed him, will be alike forgotten. Distinguished merit will ever rise superior to oppression, and will draw lustre from reproach. The vapours which gather round the rising sun, and follow in its course, seldom fail at the close of it to form a magnificent theatre for its reception, and to invest with variegated tints, and with a softened effulgence, the luminary which they can not hide.'

WILLIAM BLACKSTONE was the son of a silk mercer, and was born in London, in 1723. After having passed several years at the Charter House school, he entered Pembroke College, Oxford, where he completed his studies and took

his first degree, in 1741. Having chosen the profession of the law, and entered the Middle Temple as a student, he took a formal leave of poetry, which he had, in youth, successfully cultivated, in the following natural and pleasing verses, published in Dodsley's Miscellany :

THE LAWYER'S FAREWELL TO HIS MUSE.

As, by some tyrant's stern command,
A wretch forsakes his native land,
In foreign climes condemned to roam
An endless exile from his home;
Pensive he treads the destined way,
And dreads to go: nor dares to stay;
Till on some neighbouring mountain's brow
He stops, and turns his eyes below;
There, melting at the well-known view,
Drops a last tear, and bids adieu:
So I, thus doomed from thee to part,
Gay queen of fancy and of art,
Reluctant move, with doubtful mind,
Oft stop, and often look behind.
Companion of my tender age,
Serenely gay, and sweetly sage,

How blithesome we were wont to rove,

By verdant hill or shady grove,

Where fervent bees with humming voice,
Around the honied oak rejoice,

And aged elms with awful bend,
In long cathedral walks extend!

Lulled by the lapse of gliding floods,
Cheered by the warbling of the woods,
How blest my days, my thoughts how free
In sweet society with thee!
Then all was joyous, all was young,
And years unheeded rolled along :
But now the pleasing dream is o'er,
These scenes must charm me now no more;
Lost to the fields, and torn from you-
Farewell!-a long, a last adieu.

Me wrangling courts, and stubborn law,
To smoke, and crowds, and cities draw:
There selfish faction rules the day,
And pride and avarice throng the way;
Diseases taint the murky air,
And midnight conflagrations glare;
Loose Revelry and Riot bold,
In frighted streets their orgies hold;
Or, where in silence all is drowned,
Fell murder walks his lonely round;
No room for peace, no room for you;
Adieu, celestial nymph, adieu!
Shakspeare, no more thy sylvan son,
Nor all the art of Addison,

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