cruelty. As a man, he has hardly left him the now you have nothing to do but to chink your shadow of one good quality. Churlishness in his purse, and laugh at what is past. Your delicacy private life, and a rancorous hatred of every thing makes you groan under that which other men royal in his public, are the two colours with which never feel, or feel but lightly. A fly that settles he has smeared all the canvas. If he had any vir- upon the tip of the nose, is troublesome; and this tues, they are not to be found in the doctor's pic- is a comparison adequate to the most that manture of him, and it is well for Milton that some kind in general are sensible of, upon such tiny ocsourness in his temper is the only vice with which casions. But the flies that pester you, always get his memory has been charged; it is evident enough between your eye-lids, where the annoyance is althat if his biographer could have discovered more, most insupportable. he would not have spared him. As a poet, he has I would follow your advice, and endeavour to furtreated him with severity enough, and has plucked nish Lord North with a scheme of supplies for the one or two of the most beautiful feathers out of ensuing year, if the difficulty I find in answering his Muse's wing, and trampled them under his the call of my own emergencies did not make me great foot. He has passed sentence of condemna- despair of satisfying those of the nation. I can say tion upon Lycidas, and has taken occasion, from but this; if I had ten acres of land in the world, that charming poem, to expose to ridicule (what is whereas I have not one, and in those ten acres indeed ridiculous enough) the childish prattlement should discover a gold mine, richer than all Mexico of pastoral compositions, as if Lycidas was the and Peru, when I had reserved a few ounces for prototype and pattern of them all. The liveliness my own annual supply, I would willingly give the of the description, the sweetness of the numbers, rest to government. My ambition would be more the classical spirit of antiquity that prevails in it, gratified by annihilating the national incumbrances go for nothing. I am convinced, by the way, that than by going daily down to the bottom of a mine he has no ear for poetical numbers, or that it was to wallow in my own emolument. This is patriotstopped by prejudice against the harmony of Mil-ism-you will allow; but alas, this virtue is for the ton's. Was there ever any thing so delightful as most part in the hands of those who can do no good the music of the Paradise Lost? It is like that with it! He that has but a single handful of it, of a fine organ; has the fullest and the deepest catches so greedily at the first opportunity of growtones of majesty, with all the softness and elegance ing rich, that his patriotism drops to the ground, of the Dorian flute. Variety without end, and and he grasps the gold instead of it. He that never equalled, unless perhaps by Virgil. Yet the never meets with such an opportunity, holds it fast doctor has little or nothing to say upon this co- in his clenched fist, and says,-"Oh, how much pious theme, but talks something about the unfit-good I would do if I could!" ness of the English language for blank verse, and Your mother says-"Pray send my dear love." how apt it is in the mouth of some readers, to de- There is hardly room to add mine, but you will generate into declamation. suppose it. Yours, W. C. I could talk a good while longer, but I have no room; our love attends you. Yours affectionately, W. C. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. As you are pleased to desire my letters, I an the more pleased with writing them, though, at the same time, I must needs testify my surprise that you should think them worth receiving, as I seldom send one that I think favourably of myself. This is not to be understood as an imputation MY DEAR FRIEND, Dec. 2, 1779. How quick is the succession of human events! The cares of to-day are seldom the cares of tomorrow; and when we lie down at night, we may safely say to most of our troubles "Ye have done upon your taste or judgment, but as an encomium your worst, and we shall meet no more." upon my own modesty and humility, which I This observation was suggested to me by read- desire you to remark well. It is a just observation ing your last letter; which though I have written of Sir Joshua Reynolds, that though men of ordisince I received it, I have never answered. When nary talents may be highly satisfied with their that epistle passed under your pen, you were mi- own productions, men of true genius never are. serable about your tithes, and your imagination Whatever be their subject, they always seem to was hung round with pictures, that terrified you themselves to fall short of it, even when they seem to such a degree as made even the receipt of mo- to others most to excel. And for this reasonney burdensome. But it is all over now. You because they have a certain sublime sense of persent away your farmers in good humour (for you fection which other men are strangers to, and can make people merry whenever you please), and which they themselves in their performances are Moses; it is reserved for mercy to subdue the corrupt inclinations of mankind, which threatenings and penalties, through the depravity of the heart, have always had a tendency rather to inflame. not able to exemplify. Your servant, Sir Joshua! | however wedded to his own purpose, to resent so I little thought of seeing you when I began, but gentle and friendly an exhortation as you sent him. as you have popped in you are welcome. Men of lively imaginations are not often remarkaWhen I wrote last, I was little inclined to send ble for solidity of judgment. They have generyou a copy of verses entitled the Modern Patriot, ally strong passions to bias it, and are led far but was not quite pleased with a line or two which away from their proper road, in pursuit of pretty I found it difficult to mend, therefore did not. At phantoms of their own creating. No law ever night I read Mr. Burke's speech in the newspaper, did or can effect what he has ascribed to that of and was so well pleased with his proposals for a reformation, and with the temper in which he made them, that I began to think better of his cause, and burnt my verses. Such is the lot of the man who writes upon the subject of the day: The love of power seems as natural to kings, as the aspect of affairs changes in an hour or two, the desire of liberty is to their subjects; the excess and his opinion with it; what was just and well- of either is vicious, and tends to the ruin of both. deserved satire in the morning, in the evening There are many, I believe, who wish the present becomes a libel; the author commences his own corrupt state of things dissolved, in hope that the judge, and while he condemns with unrelenting pure primitive constitution will spring up from the severity what he so lately approved, is sorry to ruins. But it is not for man, by himself man, to find that he has laid his leaf-gold upon touch-wood, bring order out of confusion; the progress from which crumbled away under his fingers. Alas! one to the other is not natural, much less necessawhat can I do with my wit? I have not enough ry, and without the intervention of divine aid, to do great things with, and these little things are impossible; and they who are for making the so fugitive, that while a man catches at the sub-hazardous experiment, would certainly find themject, he is only filling his hand with smoke. I must selves disappointed. do with it as I do with my linnet; I keep him for the most part in a cage, but now and then set open the door that he may whisk about the room a little, and then shut him up again. My whisking wit has produced the following, the subject of which is more important than the manner in which I have treated it seems to imply, but a fable may speak truth, and all truth is sterling; I only premise, that in a philosophical tract in the Register, I found it asserted that the glow-worm is the nightingale's food.* Affectionately yours, W. C. I have heard nothing more from Mr. Newton, upon the subject you mention; but I dare say that having been given to expect the benefit of your nomination in behalf of his nephew, he still depends upon it. His obligations to Mr. have An officer of a regiment, part of which is quar-been so numerous, and so weighty, that though he tered here, gave one of the soldiers leave to be has, in a few instances, prevailed upon himself to drunk six weeks, in hopes of curing him by satie-recommend an object now and then to his patronty-he was drunk six weeks, and is so still, as age, he has very sparingly, if at all, exerted his often as he can find an opportunity. One vice interest with him in behalf of his own relations. may swallow up another, but no coroner in the state of Ethics ever brought in his verdict, when a vice died, that it was-felo de se. Thanks for all you have done, and all you intend; the biography will be particularly welcome. Yours, W. C. I With respect to the advice you are required to give to a young lady, that she may be properly instructed in the manner of keeping the sabbath, just subjoin a few hints that have occurred to me upon the occasion; not because I think you want them, but because it would seem unkind to withhold them. The sabbath then, I think, may be considered, first, as a commandment, no less binding upon modern christians than upon ancient Jews, because the spiritual people amongst them did not think it enough to abstain from manual occupations upon that day; but, entering more deeply into the meaning of the precept, allotted those hours they took from the world, to the cultivation of holiness in their own souls, which ever was, and ever will be a duty incumbent upon all who This letter contained the beautiful fable of the Nightin- ever heard of a sabbath, and is of perpetual obli TO THE REV. J. NEWTON. March 18, 1780. I AM obliged to you for the communication of your correspondence with It was impossible for any man, of any temper whatever, and gale and Glow-worm. gation both upon Jews and christians, (the mandment, therefore, enjoins it; the prophets have because it is so. He means to do his duty, and by also enforced it; and in many instances, both doing it he earns his wages. The two rectories scriptural and modern, the breach of it has been being contiguous to each other, and following punished with providential and judicial severity easily under the care of one pastor, and both so that may make by-standers tremble): secondly, as near to Stock that you can visit them witha privilege, which you well know how to dilate out difficulty, as often as you please, I see no upon, better than I can tell you: thirdly, as a sign reasonable objection, nor does your mother. As of that covenant by which believers are entitled to to the wry-mouthed sneers and illiberal miscona rest that yet remaineth: fourthly, as the sine structions of the censorious, I know no better shield qua non of the christian character; and upon this to guard you against them, than what you are head I should guard against being misunderstood already furnished with a clear and unoffending to mean no more than two attendances upon pub-conscience. lic worship, which is a form complied with by I am obliged to you for what you said upon the thousands who never kept a sabbath in their lives. subject of book-buying, and am very fond of availConsistence is necessary, to give substance and ing myself of another man's pocket, when I can solidity to the whole. To sanctify the day at do it creditably to myself, and without injury to church, and to trifle it away out of church, is pro- him. Amusements are necessary, in a retirement fanation, and vitiates all. After all, I could ask my catechumen one short question-'Do you love the day, or do you not? If you love it, you will never inquire how far you may safely deprive yourself of the enjoyment of it. If you do not love it, and you find yourself obliged in conscience to acknowledge it, that is an alarming symptom, and ought to make you tremble. If you do not love it, then it is a weariness to you, and you wish it was over. The ideas of labour and rest are not more opposite to each other than the idea of a sabbath, and that dislike and disgust with which it fills the souls of thousands to be obliged to keep it. It is worse than bodily labour.' W. C. like mine, especially in such a sable state of mind as I labour under. The necessity of amusement makes me sometimes write verses-it made me a carpenter, a bird-cage maker, a gardener—and has lately taught me to draw, and to draw too with such surprising proficiency in the art, considering my total ignorance of it two months ago, that when I show your mother my productions, she is all admiration and applause. You need never fear the communication of what you entrust to us in confidence. You know your mother's delicacy in this point sufficiently; and as for me, I once wrote a Connoisseur upon the subject of secret keeping, and from that day to this I believe I have never divulged one. We were much pleased with Mr. Newton's application to you for a charity sermon, and with what he said upon that subject in his last letter, that he was glad of an opportunity to give you that proof of his regard.' Believe me yours, W. C TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. MY DEAR FRIEND, April 6, 1780. I NEVER was, any more than yourself, a friend to pluralities; they are generally found in the hands of the avaricious, whose insatiable hunger after preferment proves them unworthy of any at all. They attend much to the regular payment of their dues, but not at all to the spiritual interest of their parishioners. Having forgot their duty, or never known it, they differ in nothing from the laity, ex- SINCE I wrote my last we have had a visit cept their outward garb, and their exclusive right from I did not feel myself vehemently to the desk and pulpit. But when pluralities seek disposed to receive him with that complaisance, the man, instead of being sought by him; and from which a stranger generally infers that he is when the man is honest, conscientious, and pious; welcome. By his manner, which was rather bold careful to employ a substitute in those respects than easy, I judged that there was no occasion for like himself; and, not contented with this, will see it, and that it was a trifle which, if he did not meet with his own eyes that the concerns of his parishes with, neither would he feel the want of. He has are decently and diligently administered; in that the air of a traveled man, but not of a traveled case, considering the present dearth of such cha- gentleman; is quite delivered from that reserve racters in the ministry, I think it an event advan- which is so common an ingredient in the English Lageous to the people, and much to be desired by all character, yet does not open himself gently and who regret the great and apparent want of sobriety gradually, as men of polite behaviour do, but bursts and earnestness among the clergy. A man who upon you all at once. He talks very loud, and does not seek a living merely as a pecuniary emol- when our poor little robins hear a great noise, they ument has no need, in my judgment, to refuse one are immediately seized with an ambition to surpass it; the increase of their vociferation occasioned an fine estate, a large conservatory, a hot-house rich increase of his, and his in return acted as a stimu- as a West-Indian garden, things of consequence; lus upon theirs; neither side entertained a thought visit them with pleasure, and muse upon them of giving up the contest, which became continually with ten times more. I am pleased with a frame more interesting to our ears, during the whole of four lights, doubtful whether the few pines it visit. The birds however survived it, and so did contains will ever be worth a farthing; amuse mywe. They perhaps flatter themselves they gained self with a greenhouse which lord Bute's gardener a complete victory, but I believe Mr. - could could take upon his back, and walk away with; have killed them both in another hour. W. C. and when I have paid it the accustomed visit, and watered it, and given it air, I say to myself' This is not mine, 'tis a plaything lent me for the present; I must leave it soon.' W. C. TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. DEAR SIR, May 3, 1780. You indulge me in such a variety of subjects,| and allow me such a latitude of excursion in this scribbling employment, that I have no excuse for MY DEAR FRIEND, Olney, May 6, 1780. silence. I am much obliged to you for swallowing I am much obliged to you for your speedy answer such boluses as I send you, for the sake of my to my queries. I know less of the law than a gilding, and verily believe that I am the only man country attorney, yet sometimes I think I have alalive, from whom they would be welcome to a pa- most as much business. My former connexion late like yours. I wish I could make them more with the profession has got wind; and though I splendid than they are, more alluring to the eye, earnestly profess, and protest, and proclaim it at least, if not more pleasing to the taste; but my abroad that I know nothing of the matter, they leaf gold is tarnished, and has received such a tinge can not be persuaded to believe, that a head once from the vapours that are ever brooding over my endued with a legal periwig can ever be deficient mind, that I think it no small proof of your par- in those natural endowments it is supposed to tiality to me, that you will read my letters. I am cover. I have had the good fortune to be once or not fond of long-winded metaphors; I have always twice in the right, which, added to the cheapness observed, that they halt at the latter end of their of a gratuitous counsel, has advanced my credit to progress, and so do mine. I deal much in ink in- a degree I never expected to attain in the capacity deed, but not such ink as is employed by poets, of a lawyer. Indeed, if two of the wisest in the and writers of essays. Mine is a harmless fluid, science of jurisprudence may give opposite opinions and guilty of no deceptions, but such as may pre- on the same point, which does not unfrequently vail without the least injury to the person imposed happen, it seems to be a matter of indifference on. I draw mountains, valleys, woods, and streams, whether a man answers by rule or at a venture. and ducks, and dab-chicks. I admire them my- He that stumbles upon the right side of the quesself, and Mrs. Unwin admires them; and her tion is just as useful to his client as he that arpraise, and my praise put together, are fame enough rives at the same end by regular approaches, and for me. O! I could spend whole days and moon- is conducted to the mark he aims at by the greatest light nights in feeding upon a lovely prospect! authorities. My eyes drink the rivers as they flow. If every human being upon earth could think for one quarThese violent attacks of a distemper so often ter of an hour as I have done for many years, there fatal, are very alarming to all who esteem and remight perhaps be many miserable men among spect the chancellor as he deserves. A life of conthem, but not an unawakened one could be found, finement, and of anxious attention to important from the Arctic to the Antarctic circle. At pre-objects, where the habit is bilious to such a terrible sent, the difference between them and me is greatly degree, threatens to be but a short one: and I wish to their advantage. I delight in baubles, and he may not be made a text for men of reflection to know them to be so: for rested in, and viewed with- moralize upon, affording a conspicuous instance of out a reference to their auther, what is the earth, the transient and fading nature of all human acwhat are the planets, what is the sun itself but a complishments and attainments. bauble? Better for a man never to have seen them, on to see them with the eyes of a brute, stupid and unconscious of what he beholds, than not to be able to say, 'The Maker of all these wonders is my friend! Their eyes have never been opened, to see that they are trifles; mine have been, and MY DEAR FRIEND, Yours affectionately, W. C. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. May 8, 1780. will be till they are closed for ever. They think a My scribbling humour has of late been entirely absorbed in the passion for landscape drawing. It it is a most amusing art, and like every other art, requires much practice and attention. Nil sine multo Vita labore dedit mortalibus. I am now reading, and have read three volumes of Hume's History, one of which is engrossed entirely by that subject. There I see reason to alter my opinion, and the seeining resemblance has disappeared upon a more particular information Excellence is providentially placed beyond the Charles succeeded to a long train of arbitrary prinreach of indolence, that success may be the reward ces, whose subjects had tamely acquiesced in the of industry, and that idleness may be punished despotism of their masters, till their privileges were with obscurity and disgrace. So long as I am all forgot. He did but tread in their steps, and pleased with an employment, I am capable of un- exemplify the principles in which he had been wearied application, because my feelings are all brought up, when he oppressed his people. But of the intense kind. I never received a little plea- just at that time, unhappily for the monarch, the sure from any thing in my life; if I am delighted, subject began to see, and to see that he had a right it is in the extreme. The unhappy consequence to property and freedom. This marks a sufficient of this temperature is, that my attachment to any difference between the disputes of that day and occupation seldom outlives the novelty of it. That the present. But there was another main cause nerve of my imagination, that feels the touch of of that rebellion, which at this time does not opeany particular amusement, twangs under the rate at all. The king was devoted to the hierarenergy of the pressure with so much vehemence, chy; his subjects were puritans, and would not that it soon becomes sensible of weariness and fa- bear it. Every circumstance of ecclesiastical ortigue. Hence I draw an unfavourable prognostic, der and discipline was an abomination to them, and expect that I shall shortly be constrained to and in his esteem an indispensable duty. And look out for something else. Then perhaps I may though at last he was obliged to give up many string the harp again, and be able to comply with things, he would not abolish episcopacy, and till your demand. that were done his concessions could have no con TO MRS. COWPER. MY DEAR COUSIN, Now for the visit you propose to pay us, and ciliating effect. These two concurring causes propose not to pay us; the hope of which plays were indeed sufficient to set three kingdoms in a upon your paper, like a jack-o-lantern upon the flame. But they subsist not now, nor any other, ceiling. This is no mean simile, for Virgil, (you I hope, notwithstanding the bustle made by the remember) uses it. 'Tis here, 'tis there, it vanishes, patriots, equal to the production of such terrible it returns, it dazzles you, a cloud interposes, and it events. Yours, my dear friend, W. C. is gone. However just the comparison, I hope you will contrive to spoil it, and that your final deter.nination will be to come. As to the masons you expect, bring them with you-bring brick,| bring mortar, bring every thing that would oppose itself to your journey-all shall be welcome. I May 10, 1780. have a greenhouse that is too small, come and en- I Do not write to comfort you: that office is not large it; build me a pinery; repair the garden- likely to be well performed by one who has no wall, that has great need of your assistance; do comfort for himself; nor to comply with an imany thing; you can not do too much; so far from pertinent ceremony, which in general might well thinking you and your train troublesome, we shall be spared upon such occasions: but because I would rejoice to see you, upon these or upon any other not seem indifferent to the concerns of those I terms you can propose. But to be serious-you have so much reason to esteem and love. If I did will do well to consider that a long summer is be- not sorrow for your brother's death, I should exfore you that the party will not have such ano-pect that nobody would for mine; when I knew ther opportunity to meet this great while; that him, he was much beloved, and I doubt not conyou may finish your masonry long enough before tinued to be so. To live and die together is the winter, though you should not begin this month, lot of a few happy families, who hardly know what but that you can not always find your brother and a separation means, and one sepulchre serves them sister Powley at Olney. These, and some other all; but the ashes of our kindred are dispersed inconsiderations, such as the desire we have to see deed. Whether the American gulf has swallowyou, and the pleasure we expect from seeing you ed up any other of my relations, I know not; it has all together, may, and I think, ought to overcome made many mourners. your scruples. Believe me, my dear cousin, though after a long From a general recollection of lord Clarendon's silence which perhaps nothing less than the preHistory of the Rebellion, I thought (and I remem-sent concern could have prevailed with me to inber I told you so) that there was a striking resem- terrupt, as much as ever, blance between that period and the present. But Your affectionate kinsman, W. C. |