them justice, though from a rather too theological
point of view. Seclusion from the sinful world
was as much a part of the system of Mr. Newton, as
it was of the system of Saint Benedict. Cowper
was almost entirely cut off from intercourse with
his friends and people of his own class. He dropped
his correspondence even with his beloved cousin, Lady
Hesketh, and would probably have dropped his correspondence
with Hill, had not Hill’s assistance in money
matters been indispensable. To complete his
mental isolation it appears that having sold his library
he had scarcely any books. Such a course of Christian
happiness as this could only end in one way; and Newton
himself seems to have had the sense to see that a
storm was brewing, and that there was no way of conjuring
it but by contriving some more congenial occupation.
So the disciple was commanded to employ his poetical
gifts in contributing to a hymnbook which Newton was
compiling. Cowper’s Olney hymns have not
any serious value as poetry. Hymns rarely have.
The relations of man with Deity transcend and repel
poetical treatment. There is nothing in them
on which the creative imagination can be exercised.
Hymns can be little more than incense of the worshipping
soul. Those of the Latin church are the best;
not because they are better poetry than the rest (for
they are not), but because their language is the most
sonorous. Cowper’s hymns were accepted
by the religious body for which they were written,
as expressions of its spiritual feeling and desires;
so far they were successful. They are the work
of a religious man of culture, and free from anything
wild, erotic, or unctuous. But on the other
hand there is nothing in them suited to be the vehicle
of lofty devotion, nothing, that we can conceive a
multitude or even a prayer-meeting uplifting to heaven
with voice and heart. Southey has pointed to
some passages on which the shadow of the advancing
malady falls; but in the main there is a predominance
of religious joy and hope. The most despondent
hymn of the series is
Temptation, the thought
of which resembles that of
The Castaway.
Cowper’s melancholy may have been aggravated
by the loss of his only brother, who died about this
time, and at whose death-bed he was present; though
in the narrative which he wrote, joy at John’s
conversion and the religious happiness of his end seems
to exclude the feelings by which hypochondria was
likely to be fed. But his mode of life under
Newton was enough to account for the return of his
disease, which in this sense may be fairly laid to
the charge of religion. He again went mad, fancied
as before that he was rejected of heaven, ceased to
pray as one helplessly doomed, and again attempted
suicide. Newton and Mrs. Unwin at first treated
the disease as a diabolical visitation, and “with
deplorable consistency,” to borrow the phrase
used by one of their friends in the case of Cowper’s
desperate abstinence from prayer, abstained from calling