The British Press; or, Morning Literary Advertiser.
London, England, 1824-02-19 00:00:00

ROMAN CATHOLICS.

At a meeting of the Dublin Catholic Association, held in
that city on Saturday last, the Secretary read the following
letter, which has been addressed by Lord Killeen to Mr.
David Lynch, Chairman of the Committee appointed to
make arrangements for the Aggregate Meeting:—
" corbalton Hall, Feb. 7, 1021.
" DE•R SIR—I bad the honour to receive Jour letter yesterday
evening, and led flattered at having been called upon by your Com-
mittee to preside at the Aggregate Meeting of the Roman Catho-
lics, fixed for Friday next.
" Not having for some months past, in consequence of my ab-
sence from Ireland, taken any part in the Catholic affairs, and
being ignorant to this moment of the line of proceedings about to be
adopted by toe Catholic body, I do not feel myself qualified on the
pliant occasion to accept the very distinguished honour offered me ;
I must, therefore, beg of you to convey to the Gentlemen of the
Committee my regret at being, under such circumstances, unable to
comply with their request, and in, warmest acknowledgments fur
the very nattering manner in which the communication was made
to me. " I have the honour to be,
" Your very faithful and obedient Servant.
" To David Lynch, Esq. " KILLEEN."

The Lonls of the Admiralty visited Chatham Yard on
Saturday (I kb inst.), and, after inspecting the works car-
rying on there, returned to Roebester.—Keatish Guzette.
Ks A x.—The unrivalled powers of our great tragedian
are, we understand, to be called into immediate action, in
a new tragedy of gnat interest, accepted at Drury-lane.
The conduct of the Manager, on this occasion, we hear,
has been worthy of his princely establishment.
Ste understand that Madame ('atalani makes her first
appearance on Saturday at the Opera.
The new Tragedy which was intended to be brought
out at Covent-garden Theatre has been withdrawn, the
new Licenser baying refused to sanction its representation.
Tits Svaci..—A practical illustration of the effect of
Turn and Jurry occurred alter the representation of that
piece, on Friday night, which had been attended with one
of the fullest houses this season. Several persona, attempt-
ing to carry the lessons they had learned into practice,
sallied forth after midnight, and began a row, by assault-
ing the watchmen, one of whom was dreadfully bruised
about the head. Six of the party, some of them respect-
able humors front the country, were taken into custody,
and lodged in the House of Correction for the night. On
Tuesday, they all appeared before the Magistrates, when
four of them were convicted in the penalty of 10s. each and
costs, for assaulting watchmen in the execution of their
duty ; and the other two entered into rccognizances to ap-
per at the next Sessions, to answer a similar charge.—
Hat Advertiser.

The fall of snow to the eastward has been so great as to
retard the arrival of coaches to this city in a very consider-
able degree. Persons who have travelled by them inform
us that mountains of snow impeded their prowess. The
Defiance, which should have reached Exeter on Saturday
afternoon, did not arrive until Sunday morning one o'clock ;
and the subscription coaches have had similar difficulties
to encounter.—Excler I'ujr•r.

PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE OF WM. COWPER,
ESQ.
TO SEVERII. OF HIS MOST INTIMATE FRIENDS,
NOW FIRST PUBLISHED FROM THE ORICDNALS IX THE
POSSESSION OF HIS KINSMAN, JOHN JOHNSON, LL.D.
RECTOR OF TAIHAII WITH WELIORNE, IN NORFOLK.

Man has been said to be, in his most uncultivated state,
the creature of feeling and of passion. The remark is just ;
but it is not exclusively in this early stage of his intellec-
tual condition that his reason is thus overniled. It is the
peculiar character of Genius that it is subjected to the same
powerful influence ; but, in the latter case, the enthusiasm
of feeling is enlightened, and the energy of passion refined,
by all those higher endowments of mind and character
which elevate the individual in the scale of his species, and
make him at once an object of envy and of admiration to
the rest of his race.

It was said of Gray that he was never a boy; and the
same may be said with equal truth of Cowper: his mind,
like that of all men of genius, was cast in a mould of its
own. The description which Alas" in his Paradise
Regained, gives of himself in his earliest days, may be
quoted as a delineation of character equally applicable to
the poet of The Tuck:—
"When I was yet a child, nn childish play
To me was pleasing : all my mind was set
Serious to learn and know, and thence to do
What might be public good; myself I thought
Born to that end—born to jitomote ill truth,
All righteous things."
It is somewhat extraordinary that, With Cowper's consti-
tutional melancholy, his letters should bear the stamp of
an imagination remarkably lively, and of a mind always
at ease. We execpt, of course, those occasional intervals
when he was manifestly under the influence of religious
melancholy, which, from whatever cause it might arise,
must have been a source of the deepest regret to his friends,
and the most unutterable misery to himself. We know
that this pitiable depreabn of mind has been, by many,
attributed to his religious opinions. We should be much
inclined to doubt the truth of that metaphysical system
which would trace it to this cause. The imagination of
Cowper was encased, if we may so express it, in a frame
of peculiar sensibility ; the enchanted visions of his poeti-
cal fancy were of a peculiar cast, and his loftiest thoughts
sere, at times, tinted with a peculiar gloom : but this hap-
pened only when his nerves were unbraced ; and we sin-
cerely believe, that whatever might have been his religious
creed, his nervous temperament would have been too power-
ful to have been subdued by the strength of his faith. It
mattered not whether his impressions were true or false ;
for they were not, at such times, the impression of his rea-
son, but of his fancy, front which no just inference could
be drawn as to the influence of his opinions. There, per-
haps, never was a mind in which so much solidity and se-
riournesa was blended with so much sprightliness and
humour.

These Letters, now first printed, the puLlic will gladly
receive as a valuable addition to those already published by
Mr. Hayley. Every fragment from such a mind as ('ow-
per's is valuable. Such relics have furnished these vo-
lumes with matter that is full of interest. The gayest
effusions of humour are interwoven with the most striking
reflections, and with reasoning the most acute. A man,
never so fully develops his own character, as in the light-.
hearted and careless moments of epistolary intercourse ; it
is then that he unfolds his sentiments with freedom, and
puts his seal to the honest transcript of his opinions. We
know of no letters hitherto published in our language,
that are superior in interest, or that give a livelier delight
to the reader, than Cowper's. The roost beautiful speci-
mens of eloquence are scattered throuhout, and they unite
the weight of sterling wisdom with the vivacity of the
I most polished wit.
We present the following specimens, without selection :
To Joseph Hill, Esq.
April—l fancy the 20th 1777.
My Dear Friend,—Thanks for a turbot, a lobster, and Captain
Rrydone; a gentleman who relates his travels so agreeably, that be
deserves always to travel with an agreeable companion. I have
been reading Gray's Works, and think hint the only poet since
Shakspeare entitled to the character of sublime. Perhaps you will
remember that I once had a different opinion of hint. I was pre-
judiced. He did not belong to our Thursday society, and was an
Eton man, which lowered him prodigiously in our esteem. I once
thought Swift's Letters the best that could be written, but I like
Gray's better. His humour, or his wit, or whatever it is to be
called, Is never ill-natured or offensive and yet, I think, equally
poigr.ant with the Dean's.
I am yours affectionately,
W. C.
To Joseph HiU, Esq.
May 23, 1777.
My Dear Friend,—We differ not much in our opinion of Mr.
Gray. When I wrote last, I was in the middle of the book. His
later epistles, I think, are worth little, as such, but might be
turned to excellent account by a young student of taste and judg-
ment. An to Mr. West's letters, I think I could easily bring your
opinion of them to square with mine. They are elegant and sen.
Ade, but have nothing in them that is characteristic, or that diseri-
minates them from the letters of any other young man of taste and
learning. As to the book you mention, lam In doubt whether to
' read it or not. I should like the philosophical part of it ; but the
political, which I suppose is a detail of intrigues carried on between
the Company and their servants, a history of rising and falling
nabobs, I should have no appetite to at all. I will not, therefore,
give you the trouble of sending it at present.
]ours affectionately,
W. C.
To the Rev. John Newton.

_ _ _
Feb. 18, 1781.
My Dear Friend,-1 send you Tabk Talk. It is a medley of
many things, some that may be useful, and some that, for aught
I know. may be very diverting. lam merry, that I may decoy
people into my company; and grave, that they may be the better
for it. Now and then I put on the garb of a philosopher, and take I
the opportunity that disguise procures me. to drop a word in favour
of religion. fn short, there is some froth, and here sod there a
bit of sweet-meat, which seems to entitle it jui.tly to the name of a
certain dish the ladies call a trifle. I did not choose to be more
facetious, lest I should consult the taste of my readers at the ex-
pense of my own approbation ; nor more serious than I have been,
lest I should forfeit theirs. A poet in my circumstances has a dif.
licult part to ac:; one minute obliged to bridle his humour, if he
has any, and the next, to clap a spur to the skies of it; now ready
to weep, from a sense of the importance of his subject, and on a
sudden constrained to laugh, lest his gravity should be mis aken
for dullness. If this be not violent exercise for the mind, I know
not what is, and if any man doubt it let hint try. Whether all
this management and contrivance be nee, :soy do not know, but
am inclined to suspect, that if my muse was to go forth clad in
Quaker colour, without one bit of ribbon to enliven her appear-
ance, she might walk from one end of London to the other, as
little noticed as if she were one of the sisterhood indeed.

As to the word you mention, I a little suspected that you would
object to it. • • • • • • • • • •
I ant no friend to the use of words taken from what an uncle of
mine called the diabolical dictionary ; but it happens sometimes,
that a coarse expression is almost necessary to do justice to the
indignation excited by an abominable subject- lam obliged to
you, however, foe your opiniorwand, though poetry Is apt to betray
one into a warmth that one is not sensible of in writing prose, shall
always desire to be set down by it.
3lr. Scott told Mr. Wilson yesterday or the day before, that he
had again asked Mr. It whether or not he intended to continue
his speaking, and that 31r. H— would give him no demninate
answer. This I had from Mr. %Vilma hiniself. It will be well if
that 'nasiness ends peaceably. Nothing could be more tenderly
cogent than your latter to his colleague, aed he, for aught I know,
may be properly influenced by it ; but it seems plain that either
the beforementioncd had not seen it, or that, if lie had, he had not I
felt it.—fleary Ball has lost his wile: she was buried un
day: having left her friends a comfortable hope of her welfare.
You had been married thirty-one years last 31onday.
you married I was eighteen years of age, and had just left West.
mincer school. At that time I valued a nun according to his pro-
ficiency and taste in classic literature, and had the meanest opinion
of all other accomplishments unaccompanied by that. I lived to
see the vanity of what I had made my pride, and in a few years
found that there were other attainments which would carry a man
more handsomely through life, than a mere knowledge of what
Homer and Virgil bad left behind them. In measure as my at-
tachment to these gentry wore off; I found a more welcome reception
among those whose acquaintance it aas more my interest to culti.
rate. Hut all this time was spent in painting a piece of wood that
had no life in it. At length I began to think indeed ; I found my.
self in possession of many baubles, but not one grain of solidity in
all mv treasures. Then I learned the truth, and then I lost it ;
and there ends my history. I would, no more than you, wish to live
such a life over again, but for one reason: he that is carried to
execution, though through the roughest road, when he aliases at
the destined spot, would be glad, notwithstanding the many jolts
he met with, to repeat his journey.
Yours, my dear Sir, with our joint love,

'w. C.

Although the events are long since past, to which Mr.
Cowper's political letters advert, they are interspersed with
reflections which can never be revived but with advantage.
Of this description are the following:—

To Joseph Hill, Esq.
Jan. 31, 17172.
3ly Dear Friend,—Having thanked you for a barrel of very fine
oysters, I should have nothing more to say, if I did nut determine
to say every, thing that may happen to occur. The political world
affords us no very agreeable subjects at present, nor am I mini.
ciently conversant with it to do justice to so magnificent a theme if
I did. A man that lives as I do, whose chief occupation, at this
season of the year, is to walk ten times in a day from the tire-side
to his cucumber frame and back again, cannot show his wisdom
more, if be has any wisdom to show, than by leaving the mysteries

of government to the management of persons, in point of situation
and informaticn, much better qualified for the business. Suppose
not, however, that I ant perfectle an or:evince:ned spectator, or that
I take no interest at all in the affairs of my country: far from it--
I read the news—l *ea that things go wrong in every quarter. I
meet, now and then, with an account of some disaster, that seems
to be the indisputable progeny of treachery, cowardice, or a spirit
of faction. I recollect, that in those happier days, when you and I
could spend our evening in enumerating victoria and acquisitions,
that seemed to follow each other in a continued 'erica, there was
some pleasure in hearing a politician, and a man might talk away
upon so entertaining a subject, without danger of becoming tire-
some to others, or incurring weariness himself. IVlten poor Bob
White brought me the news of lloseawen's success off the
corm of Portugal. how did I leap for joy ! When Make demo.
lished (...onflans I was still more transported—but nothing could
express my rapture when Wolfe made the conquest of quebee.
I ant not, therefore, I suppose, destitute of true patn,taisni,
but the course of public events has, of late, afforded me no
opportunity to exert it. I cannot rejoice, because I can find no
reason, and I will not murmur, because I can find no good one:
land let me add, he that has seen both sides of fifty, has lived to
little purpose, if he has not other views of the world than he had
when he was much rour!ger. Be finds, if he reflects at all, that it
will be to the end what it has been from the beginning, a shifting.
uncertain, fluctuating scene—that nations, as well as individuals,
have their seasons of infancy, youth, and and age. If he be an
Englishman, he will observe that oust, in particular, is affected
with every symptom of decay, and is already sunk into a state of
decrepitude. I ant reading Mrs. 1111•Aulay's History. I am not
quite such a superannuated simpleton as to suppose that mankind
were wiser or much better when I was young than they are now
but I may venture to assert, without exposing myself to the charge
of dotage, that tile men whose integrity, courage, and wisdom,
bands of tysianny, established our constitution upon its true basis,
and gave • people overwhelmed with the scorn of all countriLs an
opportunity to emerge into a state of the highest respect and esti.
Illation make a better figure in history than any of the present day
are likely do, when their petty harangues are forgotten, and noshing
shall survive but the remembrance of the views and motives with
which they made them.
My dear friend I have written at random in every sense, neither
knowing what sentiments I should broach when I began, nor whe.
ther they would accord with yours. Excuse a rustic if he errs on
such a subject, and believe me sincerely yours, W. C.

To the Rev. John Newton.
Dec. 27. 11710.
My dear Friend,—Thanks to the patriotic junto, whose efforts
have staved off the expected dissolution, franks have not yet lost
their currency. Ignorant as they were that my writing by this
post depended upon the existence of the present Parliament, they
have conducted their deliberations with a sturdiness and magna.
Dimity that would almost tempt one to suppose that they had known
it. ho true it is that the actions of men are connected with conse-
quences they are little aware of; and that events, comparatively
trivial in themselves, may give birth to the must important.
My thoughts of ministers and men in power are nearly a-kin
to yours. It is well for the public, when the rulers of a state arc
actuated by principles that may happen to coincide with its in-
terests. The ambition of an individual has often been made sub-
servient to the general good; and many a man has served his
country. merely for the sake of immortalizing himself by doing it :
so far it seems to me, the naturtd man is to be trusted, and no'
farther. Self is at the bottom of all his conduct. If self can be
pleased, flattered, enriched, exalted by his exertions,and his talents'.
are such as qualify hint for great usefulness, his country shall be
the better for him. And this, perhaps, is ail the patriotism we
have a right to look fur. In the mean time, however, I can-
not
but think such a man, in some degree • respectable
character, and am willing, at least, to do him honour, so far
as I feel myself benefited by hint. Ambition and the hive of fame
are certainly no Christian principles, but they are such as com-
monly belong to men of superior minds, and the fruits they
produce may often plead their apology. The great men of the
world are of a Mete with the world to which they belong; they are
raised up to govern it, and in the government of it are prompted
by worldly motives : but it prospers, perhaps, under their manage-
ment, and when it does, the Christian world, which is totally a dis-
tinct creation, partaking of the advantage, has cause to be thank.
ful. The sun is a eater's creature; he does much good, but
without intending it: I, however, who am conscious of the good
he does, though I know not what religion he is of, or whether he
has any or none, rejoice in his effects, admire him, and ant',
sensible that it is every man's duty to be thankful for him. In this
sentiment I know you agree with me, for I believe he has not a!
warmer votary than yourself.
We say the King can do no strong ; and it is well for poor
George the Third that he cannot. In my opinion, however, he has
lately been within a hair's breadth of that predicament. His ad-
visers, indeed. are guilty, and not he : but he will probably find,
however herd it may seem, that if he can do no wrong, he may yet
suffer the consequences of the wrong he cannot do. Ile has dis-
missed his servants, but not disgraced them ; they triumph in their
degradation, and no man is willing to supply their places. Must
their officer remain unoccupied, or must they be courted to resume
them ? Never was such a distracted state of things within my re-
membrance and I much fear that this is but the beginning
of sorrows. It is not a time of day fora King to take liberties
with the people; there is a spirit In the Commons that will not
endure it; and his Mrjesty's advisers must be less acquainted with
the temper of the times than it is possible to suppose them, if they
imagine that such strides of prerogative will not be resented. The
Address will gall him. lam sorry that he has exposes' himself to
such a reprehension. but I think it warranted by the occasion.. I
pity him ; but, King as he is, and much as I have always honour.
ed him. had I been a Member I should have voted for it.

I am obliged to Mr. Bacon for thinking of me. That expression,
however, does not do justice to my feelings. Even with the little
knowledge I have of him, I should love him, had I no reason to
suppose ml ler at any time an object of his attention ; but knowing
that I am KO happy as to have a share in his remembrance, I rer.
tainly love him the more. Truly lam not in hit debt: I cannot
say wherefore it Is so, but certainly few days pass in which I do
not remember him. The print, indeed, with which he favoured
me, and which is always in my view, must often suggest the recol-
lection of him ; but though I greatly value it, I do not believe it is
my only prompter.
I finish with what I wish may make you laugh, as it did me.
Mr. Scott, exhorting the people to frequent prayer, closed hls ad-
dress thus :—" You have nothing to do but to ask, and you will
ever find Him ready to bestow. Open your wide mouths, and he
will all them."

Mrs. Corm is well. Accept an old but a true conclusion—our
united love to you and your's, and believe me, my dear friend,
Your ever affectionate, W. C.
IVe consider the whole of these letters as a valuable ac
ccsvion to our epistolary stores : they are rich in variety,
both in subject and manner, and may be classed with the
very best productions we can boast m this department of
English literature.

NEWOATE MARKET.—lmproved alterations are about
to be made in the poultry matket in Newgate Market, for
the benefit of the public, ;rho have been greatly inconve-
nienced by the condition of the market for many years.
The Committee of City Lands represented at the last Com-
mon Council, that the City's tenants in the poultry mar-
ket having sustained great damage in consequence of the
want of covering over the area of the market, the Clerk of
the City's works was directed to prepare a design for erect-
ing a penthouse over it, and for the general improvement
of the market. Mr. Ilurcotnhe, who, under the direction
of the Committee, superintended the alterations in the car-
case market, has already, in conjunction with Mr. Mon-
tague, the City Surveyor, submitted a plan which has re-
ceived the approbation and sanction of the Committee, and
a contract is about to be entered into for the erection of the
covering, and for paving the area ; and the remainder of the
design, is to be carried into execution at such times and in
such manner as the circumstances and business of the mar-
ket, and the convenience of the public will permit.

ANTIQUITY OF 111 E Fresmls:tvasNE.--The invention
of this stupendous machine has now been traced to a period
prior to the Christian era. This curious fact was satisfac-
torily demonstrated by Mr. Partington, in a lecture on the
steam-engine, delivered in the theatre of the London In-
stitution, on Monday, the gd inst., when Mr. I'. exhibited
a working model of an apparatus, in which steam was etn-
pioyed as a prime mover by Hero, of Alexandria, more
than two thousand yews ago.—Meehanie's Afogfejne.
Palace: Mesizt sore.—After Peter the Great had con-
quered Ingria, he conferred the government of that pro-
vince on his favourite, Prince Menzikoff; the pride and
prejudice of other courtiers might find fault with a sove-
reign for raising a pastry-cook's boy to the post of Gent ral
and governor of a province, with the dignity of Prince:i
but Peter had accustomed his subjects not to be surprised
at seeing him prefer men of abilities to persons who had
nothing to recommend them but their high birth. Men-
zikoif happened by a lucky accident to emerge from his
original obscurity when he wan very young, and to be
placed in the Czar's family, where he learned several lan-
guages. and qualified himself both for the cabinet and the
field. Ile had the art of ingratiating himself with his was-
ter by his wit and humour, but he strengthened his interest
by more important services. Menzikofrs family were vas-
sals of the Convent of ('osmopoli. At the sge of thirteen
he went to Moscow, and was taken into the service of a
pastry-cook: his employment was singing ballads, and cry-
ing puffs and cakes about the streets. One day, as he was
following this occupation, the Czar happening to hear him,
and to be diverted with one of his songs, sent for him, and
asked him if he would sell his pies and his basket? The
boy answered, his business was to sell his pies, bet he must
ask his master leave to sell the basket ; yet as every thing
belonged to his prince, he needed only to lay his commands
upon him. This answer was so agreeable to the Czar, that
he entered him immediately to come to court, where at
first he gave him a mean employment ; but being every
day more pleased with his wit, he thought fit to place him
about his person, and to snake him groom of his bedcham-
ber, from whence he raised him to the 14hest preferment.

SUGGESTED IMPROfrEMENTS IN THE ark: