tianity, in all ages, has been oppofed by the power of intereft, and mifrepresented by the clamour of ignorance. "So fond are men of diftinctions, fo ambitious of appearing in the little circle of their neighbours at the head of a fect, that the entreaties of the apoftle, the peace of the church, the honour of our holy religion, are facrificed with indecent clamour and unhallowed precipitation, to their unruly and ungovernable paffions." P. 6. The following climax is deferving of notice: "In man, confidered as a rational being, the defire of discovering truth is highly becoming; the attempt to difcover it is even incumbent on him as a moral creature; the actual discovery of it is facilitated by a fpirit of impartiality and candour; and the utility of it, when difcovered, is more extenfive, where the fame diligent and dif paffionate enquiry has conducted men to the fame clear and confiftent decifion." P. 7. The application of these truths is found and important : "But if these obfervations be juft, as they generally regard our duty and our happiness, they are peculiarly important in the difcuffion of thofe fubjects, which are connected with religion. Every difficulty is there increased by a contentious temper; every advantage is there heightened by a fincere and steady difpofition to fpeak the fame thing, and to be joined together in the fame mind." P. 7. A proper limitation of thefe leffons is fubjoined, against implicitly embracing, and paffively retaining, opinions which credulity may have taken up, and error fanctioned. The main fubject is then entered upon; and three points are propofed for confideration: Ift. What good, whether real, or fuppofed, both to chriftianity and fociety, has accrued from the introduction of the doctrines of Methodifm: 2dy, What are the evils, whether inherent in, or refulting from them. 3dly, Why Methodifin has fo increased, and by what means it is fupported. Under the first head, Mr. C, examines the pretenfion of the Methodists, "That they preach the word of God in its genuine purity. Acting under the immediate infpiration of the Holy Ghoft, receiving from him what they muft fay, and how they must speak, they are, in general, under the direction of an infallible guide."-" Why" (the author fays)" after the ordinary affiftances of the Divine Spirit have been for fo many ages granted in aid of human attainments, the Almighty fhould entertain for the ignorant and illiterate, an exclufive predilection; why he should confine his infpirations to those who are, for the most part, incapable of found reafoning and enlarged comprehenfion, is a queftion which defies the folution of human ingenuity." P. 10. "It is further urged, that by the introduction of Methodism, the Gofpel is preached by many of the clergy of our church in greater. purity." P. 13. The next pretenfion is, that they have not only evangelized our difcourfes, but alfo improved our morals. P. 14. These, and fome other boasted advantages, are well confidered by the author: but we cannot afford room for his remarks at length, and they would be injured by abstracting them, "That Methodism, however, has been productive of fome good to fociety, I could, were it neceffary, produce many inftances. If any one doubt the truth of what I fay, let him enquire of men, on whofe veracity he can depend, particularly in the great manufacturing towns, and he will be informed of many, who, immerfed in fenfuality, and enflaved to vice, have been, by the preaching of Methodifm, reclaimed from their evil courses." P. 16. But it is queftioned, whether active virtue be alfo added. Under the fecond head, it is obferved, that while thefe fectaries oftentatiously profefs to be real members of the church of England, they wantonly abuse, and outrageously contemn, its ministers, and accufe them of preaching only Heathen morality. "How many unhappy wretches have been alienated from the public fervice of the church, and have literally "lived without God in the world," by their malicious mifrepresentations!" P. 18. They alfo "prevent men, by thefe calumnies, from attending at the Lord's Table." P. 19. Now we apprehend that, in words at least, they encourage an attendance there. But doubtless" the efficacy of that divine ordinance" is diminished "upon every one whom thofe calumnies have irritated." p. 19. In the education of children, Methodifm is fhown to be attended with evils. "Deprived of rational amufements, wearied with long prayers, difgufted with puritanical converfation, they fall a prey to every temptation." P. 20. "If they fail to embrace the religion of their parents, they are seldom attached to any mode of worship, or fyftem of belief:-they often conclude, that religion itself is nothing but hypocrify." Mifery in families is another evil; arifing from a denial of innocent pleasures, an aufterity of manners, and a rigour of deportment. The regulation of the moral temper, and the extinction of the malignant paffions, feem to be no parts of their fyftem. The next evil is, DESPAIR of God's mercy and forgiveness, with its horrible confequences. And, laftly, it is fhown, that political evils may flow from a rash hostility to the established church. Under Under the third head are enumerated-the flattering doctrines of Methodifin-their great attention to finging-the periodical change of their preachers-the familiar intercourse of these with their feveral hearers--and their mifreprefentations of the clergy, as preaching Salvation by Works. The want of religious intercourfe betwixt the clergy and the people—an injudicious choice of fubjects in preaching-the largeness of parishes-and the preaching only once a day--are stated as caufes of the increafe of Methodifm; and catechetical afternoon lectures are recommended. The whole difcourfe is a masterly performance, with refpect to ftyle as well as matter; and it will doubtless call forth the talents and zeal of the moft literate among the Methodifts, in anfwer to it. Whatever anfwers may appear, they will meet with that attention from us, which the importance of the conteft demands, and their refpective merits, may justify. ART. X. The Mountaineers, a Play, in three Acts, written by 8vo. HETHER it be that the avocations of his office as ma nager too far interrupt him, or that the indolence very common to genius indifpofes Mr. Colman to more regular and finifhed efforts, or that the nature of his theatre demands rather light and popular productions than any laboured works of poetry, we certainly regret, in common with critics in general, that this author gives us rather fpecimens of what he could do if he would, than any full indulgence of the expectations he has raised. Yet at the fight of genius, that rare being, however he may choose to come attired, we are always ready to defcend from our dogmatic thrones; and to fay, "Worthy Sir, we are only your interpreters, fcribes of thofe laws which you are pleased to dictate; do as you please; we prefume only to advife; if you have formed a different plan, pray follow it; for you best know your own propenfities and powers, and might only be difgraced by being forced into a drefs you do not like." Mr. Colman's favourite fpecies of compofition has been hitherto, what common courtesy now calls diftinctively, a play; that is, an irregular drama, bordering much upon the licence of the comic opera, as to the conftruction of its plot; admitting alfa 1 alfo fongs and chorufes; yet written partly in blank verfe, which is appropriated to the higher characters, and the reft in profe. For the mixture of blank verfe and profe he has very ample authority, in the practice of all our early writers of the drama; and certain it is, that the tranfition from one to the other is fo eafy, that, except where the alternation of the fame dialogue is for fome time carried on between the two modes of writing, the ear is not greatly offended by it. In the elevated paffages undoubtedly a beauty and brilliancy is obtained by metrical harmony, which the finest profe will never emulate. But an experiment remains to be made, and Mr. Colman is the very man whom nature has qualified to make it, whether a ftill more loose and easy species of verfe, may not be made a proper kind of vehicle even for the wit and humour of the lower characters. The fact is, it certainly may; and instances of this also, though not always regularly pursued, may be found among the writings of our elder dramatifts. Let it be confidered that a comedy ought to be a poem, and that to a poem verfe is abfolutely effential. It is only the indolence of modern times, and latterly the terrible dearth of poetic genius, that has given currency to the practice of writing comedies in profe: a method by which innumerable fcribblers have been fet to work, who would otherwife have been deterred from the attempt of writing for the ftage. Or if we fhould grant that where the scene is placed quite in present times, and in familiar life, blank verfe fhould be avoided as unnatural; it will ftill remain to be used in dramas of fuch a ftamp as this, which are taken from old tales, and have their action placed in diftant countries. The play, however, as Mr. C. writes it, is a very pleasing compofition, whether read or acted: but, let other authors beware, for a production of this kind, in hands of lefs power, will ever be deteftable. It is by writing very good verfe where he writes it, and very lively profe in the intervals, that this author fupports his undertaking; a failure either in one part or the other will produce a very different effect. The plot of the Mountaineers is made by interweaving the two tales of Cardenio, and the Spanish Captive, in Don Quixote. Cardenio and Lucinda are Octavian and Floranthe. Perez de Viedma and Zoraida'are Virolet and Zorayda ; and Virolet and Floranthe are made brother and fifter. Our author has ftudied Shakspeare with tafte and profit, and his blank verfe fares the better for it. The madness of Octavian is touched with delicacy and fpirit, and the following speech of Floranthe when she is asked whether the gentleman fhe enquires for is not crazy, is a masterpiece, for nice management of compofition, and delineation of paffion. paffion. She does not choose to own that her lover is mad, and yet he cannot quite deny it, the therefore softens the fact down with phrafes, calculated to veil the truth, if poffible, even from herself. He whom we feck-through wayward circumftance, May feem, I fear, to those who know him not, The breaks and parentheses in this fpeech demonstrate the hand of a mafter. The following fcene where Octavian in the wood discovers his beloved Floranthe, is not unworthy of that introduction. Enter FLORANTHE. (A paufe-he gazes on her for fome time.) What art thou-fpeak--that face-yet this attire- Octavian! FLORANTHE. OCTAVIAN. That voice!—It is-So long too;-Let me clasp thee- FLORANTHE. O, I did fear this-my Octavian— To fee thee thus !-Why, Roque-Alas, Octavian, Thy own Floranthe Enter ROQUE, (who affifts OCTAVIAN.) It has chanced, before, That I have dreamt this-and, when I awoke, Big drops did ftand upon my clay-cold front, 'Tis there again-Brain! brain!-Why, aye, that hand, For my ftrong pulfe is ftill fo fenfible To ev'ry touch of thine, that the sweet contact FLORANTHE. |