My book procures me favours, which my mo- spectator, at the same time that by some they are desty will not permit me to specify, except one supposed to be forerunners of a general dissoluwhich, modest as I am, I can not suppress-a very tion. handsome letter from Dr. Franklin at Passy.- There are political earthquakes as well as na These fruits it has brought me. tural ones, the former less shocking to the eye, but not always less fatal in their influence than the latter. The image which Nebuchadnezzar saw in his dream was made up of heterogeneous and incompatible materials, and accordingly broken. Whatever is so formed must expect a like catastrophe. I have been refreshing myself with a walk in the garden, where I find that January (who according to Chaucer was the husband of May) being dead, February has married the widow. son. Yours, &c. W. C. TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. Olney, Feb. 20, 1783. SUSPECTING that I should not have hinted at Dr. Franklin's encomium under any other influence than that of vanity, I was several times on the point of burning my letter for that very reaBut not having time to write another by the same post, and believing that you would have the grace to pardon a little self-complacency in an author on so trying an occasion, I let it pass. One sin naturally leads to another, and a greater; and thus it happens now, for I have no way to gratify your curiosity, but by transcribing the letter in question. It is addressed, by the way, not to me, but to an acquaintance of mine, who had transmitted the volume to him without my knowledge. SIR, Passy, May 8, 1782. I received the letter you did me the honour of writing to me, and am much obliged by your kind present of a book. The relish for reading of poetry had long since left me, but there is something so new in the manner, so easy, and yet so correct in the language, so clear in the expression, yet concise, and so just in the sentiments, that I have read the whole with great pleasure, and some of the pieces more than once. I beg you to accept my thankful acknowledgments, and to present my respects to the author. Your most obedient humble servant, B. FRANKLIN. I have an etching of the late Chancellor hanging over the parlour chimney. I often contemplate it, and call to mind the day when I was intimate with the original. It is very like him, fashionable, is awkward; by his great wig, the tie but he is disguised by his hat, which, though of which is hardly discernible in profile; and by his band and gown, which give him an appearance clumsily sacerdotal. Our friendship is dead and buried, yours is the only surviving one of all with which I was once honoured. Adieu, W. C. TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. MY DEAR FRIEND, when once moved. Mrs. C- -'s illness, likely to prove mor much compassion in my breast, and in Mrs. Untal, and seizing her at such a time, has excited win's, both for her and her daughter. To have parted with a child she loves so much, intending soon to follow her; to find herself arrested before she could set out, and at so great a distance from her most valued relations, her daughter's life too threatened by a disorder not often curable, are circumstances truly affecting. She has indeed much natural fortitude, and to make her condition still more tolerable, a good Christian hope for her sup port. But so it is, that the distresses of those who least need our pity excite it most; the amiable ness of the character engages our sympathy, and GREAT revolutions happen in this Ant's nest of we mourn for persons for whom perhaps we might ours. One Emmet of illustrious character and more reasonably rejoice. There is still however a great abilities pushes out another; parties are possibility that she may recover; an event we must formed, they range themselves in formidable op- wish for, though for her to depart would be far position, they threaten each other's ruin, they better. Thus we would always withhold from the cross over and are mingled together, and like the skies those who alone can reach them; at least till coruscations of the Northern Aurora amuse the we are ready to bear them company. TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. MY DEAR FRIEND, Present our love, if you please, to Miss C TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. May 12, 1783. I saw in the Gentleman's Magazine for last month an account of a physician who has discovered a new method of treating consumptive cases, which MY DEAR FRIEND, has succeeded wonderfully in the trial. He finds A LETTER Written from such a place as this is the seat of the distemper in the stomach, and cures a creation; and creation is a work for which mere it principally by emetics. The old method of en- man is very indifferently qualified. Er nihilo nicountering the disorder has proved so unequal to hil fit, is a maxim that applies itself in every case the task, that I should be much inclined to any where deity is not concerned. With this view of new practice, that comes well recommended. He the matter, I should charge myself with extreme is spoken of as a sensible and judicious man, but folly for pretending to work without materials, did bis name I have forgot. I not know, that although nothing could be the Our love to all under your roof, and in particu- result, even that nothing will be welcome. If I lar to Miss Catlett, if she is with you. Yours, my dear friend, W. C. TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. May 5, 1783. can tell you no news, I can tell you at least that I esteem you highly; that my friendship with you and yours is the only balm of my life; a comfort sufficient to reconcile me to an existence destitute of every other. This is not the language of today, only the effect of a transient cloud suddenly brought over me, and suddenly to be removed, but punctually expressive of my habitual frame of mind, such as it has been these ten years. You may suppose that I did not hear Mr.preach, but I heard of him. How different is that In the Review of last month, I met with an acplainness of speech, which a spiritual theme re- count of a sermon preached by Mr. Paley, at the quires, from that vulgar dialect which this gentle- consecration of his friend, Bishop Law. The man has mistaken for it! Affectation of every sort is critic admires and extols the preacher, and devoutly odious, especially in a minister, and more especial-prays the lord of the harvest to send forth more such ly an affectation that betrays him into expressions labourers into his vineyard. I rather differ from fit only for the mouths of the illiterate. Truth him in opinion, not being able to conjecture in indeed needs no ornament, neither does a beauti- what respect the vineyard will be benefited by such ful person; but to clothe it therefore in rags, when a measure. He is certainly ingenious, and has a decent habit was at hand, would be esteemed stretched his ingenuity to the uttermost in order to preposterous and absurd. The best proportioned exhibit the church established, consisting of bishops, figure may be made offensive by beggary and filth; priests, and deacons, in the most favourable point and even truths, which came down from Heaven, of view. I lay it down for a rule, that when much though they can not forego their nature, may be ingenuity is necessary to gain an argument credit, disguised and disgraced by unsuitable language. that argument is unsound at bottom. So is his, It is strange that a pupil of yours should blunder and so are all the petty devices by which he seeks thus. You may be consoled however by reflect- to enforce it. He says first, 'that the appointing, that he could not have erred so grossly, if he ment of various orders in the church is attended with had not totally and wilfully departed both from this good consequence, that each class of people is your instruction and example. Were I to describe supplied with a clergy of their own level and descripyour style in two words, I should call it plain and tion, with whom they may live and associate on terms neat, simplicem munditiis, and I do not know of equality.' But in order to effect this good purhow I could give it juster praise, or pay it a greater pose, there ought to be at least three parsons in compliment. He that speaks to be understood by every parish, one for the gentry, one for the traders a congregation of rustics, and yet in terms that and mechanics, and one for the lowest of the vulwould not offend academical cars, has found the gar. Neither is it easy to find many parishes, happy medium. This is certainly practicable to where the laity at large have any society with their men of taste and judgment, and the practice of a minister at all. This therefore is fanciful, and a few proves it. Hactenus de Concionando. mere invention. In the next place he says it gives We are truly glad to hear that Miss C- a dignity to the ministry itself, and the clergy share is better, and heartily wish you more promising in the respect paid to their superiors. Much good accounts from Scotland. Debemur morti nos nos- may such participation do them! They them traque. We all acknowledge the debt, but are selves know how little it amounts to. The digseldom pleased when those we love are required nity a parson derives from the lawn sleeves and to pay it. The demand will find you prepared square cap of his diocesan will never endanger his for it. Yours, my dear friend, W. C. humility. Pope says truly Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow; some causes of sorrow, when an amiable and Christian friend departs; but the Scripture, so many more, and so much more important reasons to rejoice, that on such occasions, perhaps more Again-Rich and splendid situations in the remarkably than on any other, sorrow is turned church have been justly regarded as prizes, held into joy. The law of our land is affronted if we out to invite persons of good hopes, and ingenuous say the king dies, and insists on it that he only deattainments.' Agreed. But the prize held out mises. This, which is a fiction, where a monarch in the Scripture is of a very different kind; and only is in question, in the case of a Christian is our ecclesiastical baits are too often snapped by reality and truth. He only lays aside a body, the worthless, and persons of no attainments at which it is his privilege to be encumbered with no all. They are indeed incentives to avarice and am- longer; and instead of dying, in that moment he bition, but not to those acquirements by which begins to live. But this the world does not unonly the ministerial function can be adorned-derstand, therefore the kings of it must go on dezeal for the salvation of men, humility, and self-mising to the end of the chapter.* W. C. denial. Mr. Paley and I therefore can not agree. Yours, my dear friend, W. C. TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. May 26, 1783. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. MY DEAR WILLIAM, June 8, 1783. OUR severest winter, commonly called the spring, is now over, and I find myself seated in my favourI FEEL for my uncle, and do not wonder that his ite recess, the green-house. In such a situation, loss afflicts him. A connexion that has subsisted so silent, so shady, where no human foot is heard, so many years could not be rent asunder without and where only my myrtles presume to peep in at great pain to the survivor. I hope however and the window, you may suppose I have no interrup doubt not but when he has had a little more time tion to complain of, and that my thoughts are per. for recollection, he will find that consolation in his fectly at my command. But the beauties of the own family, which is not the lot of every father to spot are themselves an interruption, my attention be blessed with. It seldom happens that married being called upon by those very myrtles, by a doupersons live together so long, or so happily; but ble row of grass pinks just beginning to blossom, this, which one feels oneself ready to suggest as and by a bed of beans already in bloom; and you matter of alleviation, is the very circumstance are to consider it, if you please, as no small proof that aggravates his distress; therefore he misses of my regard, that though you have so many pow her the more, and feels that he can but ill spare erful rivals, I disengage myself from them all, and her. It is however a necessary tax which all who devote this hour entirely to you. live long must pay for their longevity, to lose many You are not acquainted with the Rev. Mr. Bull, whom they would be glad to detain (perhaps those of Newport, perhaps it is as well for you that you in whom all their happiness is centered), and to are not. You would regret still more than you do, see them step into the grave before them. In one that there are so many miles interposed between respect at least this is a merciful appointment: us. He spends part of the day with us to-morwhen life has lost that to which it owed its princi-row. A dissenter, but a liberal one; a man of pal relish, we may ourselves the more cheerfully letters and of genius; master of a fine imagination, resign it. I beg you would present him with my or rather not master of it; an imagination which, most affectionate remembrance, and tell him, if you think fit, how much I wish that the evening of his long day may be serene and happy. W. C. TO THE REV. J. NEWTON. May 31, 1783. WE rather rejoice than mourn with you on the when he finds himself in the company he loves, and can confide in, runs away with him into such fields of speculation, as amuse and enliven every other imagination that has the happiness to be of the party! At other times he has a tender and delicate sort of melancholy in his disposition, not less agreeable in its way. No men are better qualified for companions in such a world as this, than men of such a temperament. Every scene of life mind that has an equal mixture of melancholy and has two sides, a dark and a bright one, and the ccasion of Mrs. C's death. In the case of believers, death has lost his sting, not only with respect to those he takes away, but with respect to The Task appears to have been begun between the wrisurvivors also. Nature indeed will always suggest ting of this letter and that which immediately follow vivacity is the best of all qualified for the contem- | proof till the day itself shall prove it. My own senplation of either. He can be lively without levity, timents upon the subject appear to me perfectly and pensive without dejection. Such a man is scriptural, though I have no doubt that they differ Mr. Bull. But he smokes tobacco-nothing is totally from those of all who have ever thought perfect Nihil est ab omni On the other side I sent you a something, a song if you please, composed last Thursdaythe incident happened the day before.* Yours, W. C. TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. about it; being however so singular, and of no importance to the happiness of mankind, and being moreover difficult to swallow, just in proportion as they are peculiar, I keep them to myself. I am, and always have been, a great observer of natural appearances, but I think not a superstitious one. The fallibility of those speculations which lead men of fanciful minds to interpret Scripture by the contingencies of the day, is evident from this consideration, that what the God of the Scriptures has seen fit to conceal, he will not as the God of nature publish. He is one and the June 13, 1783. same in both capacities, and consistent with himI THANK you for your Dutch communications. self; and his purpose, if he designs a secret, imThe suffrage of such respectable men must have penetrable, in whatever way we attempt to open given you much pleasure, a pleasure only to be ex- it. It is impossible however for an observer of naceeded by the consciousness you had before of hav-tural phenomena not to be struck with the singuing published truth, and of having served a good larity of the present season. The fogs I mentioned master by doing so. in my last still continue, though till yesterday the MY DEAR FRIEND, I have always regretted that your ecclesiastical earth was as dry as intense heat could make it. history went no further; I never saw a work that The sun continues to rise and set without his rays, I thought more likely to serve the cause of truth, and hardly shines at noon, even in a cloudless sky. nor history applied to so good a purpose. The At eleven last night the moon was a dull red, she facts incontestable, the grand observations upon was nearly at her highest elevation, and had the them all irrefragable, and the style, in my judg. colour of heated brick. She would naturally, I ment, incomparably better than that of Robertson know, have such an appearance looking through or Gibbon. I would give you my reasons for think- a misty atmosphere; but that such an atmosphere ing so, if I had not a very urgent one for declining should obtain for so long a time, and in a country it. You have no ear for such music, whoever where it has not happened in my remembrance may be the performer. What you added, but never even in the winter, is rather remarkable. We printed, is quite equal to what has appeared, which I think might have encouraged you to procoed, though you missed that freedom in writing which you found before. While you were at Olney this was at least possible; in a state of retirement you had leisure, without which I suppose Paul himself could not have written his Epistles. But those days are fled, and every hope of a continuation is filed with them. have had more thunder storms than have consisted well with the peace of the fearful maidens in Olney, though not so many as have happened in places at no great distance, nor so violent. Yesterday morning, however, at seven o'clock, two fireballs burst either in the steeple or close to it. William Andrews saw them meet at that point, and immediately after saw such a smoke issue from the apertures in the steeple as soon rendered it invisiThe day of judgment is spoken of not only as a ble: the noise of the explosion surpassed all the surprise, but a snare-a snare upon all the in- noises I ever heard-you would have thought that habitants of the earth. A difference indeed will a thousand sledge-hammers were battering great obtain in favour of the godly, which is, that though stones to powder, all in the same instant. The a snare, a sudden, in some sense an unexpected, weather is still as hot, and the air as full of vaand in every sense an awful event, yet it will find pour, as if there had been neither rain nor thunder them prepared to meet it. But the day being thus all the summer. characterised, a wide field is consequently open to There was once a periodical paper published, conjecture; some will look for it at one period, and called Mist's Journal: a name well adapted to the some at another; we shall most of us prove at last sheet before you. Misty however as I am, I do to have been mistaken, and if any should prove to not mean to be mystical, but to be understood, like have guessed aright, they will reap no advantage, the felicity of their conjecture being incapable of * Here followed his song of the Rose. an almanack-maker, according to the letter. As a poet, nevertheless, I claim, if any wonderful event should follow, a right to apply all and every such post-prognostic, to the purposes of the tragic muse. Yours, W. C TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. MY DEAR FRIEND, June 17, 1783. the same great teacher who taught him to em broider for the service of the sanctuary, and which amounts almost to as great a blessing as the gift of tongues. YOUR letter reached Mr. SThe summer is passing away, and hitherto has was with him; whether it wrought any change in hardly been either seen or felt. Perpetual clouds his opinion of that gentleman, as a preacher, I intercept the influence of the sun, and for the most know not, but for my own part I give you full part there is an autumnal coldness in the weather, credit for the soundness and rectitude of yours. No though we are almost upon the eve of the longest man was ever scolded out of his sins. The heart, day. Yours, my dear friend, W. C. TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. July 27, 1783. be corrupt as it is, and because it is so, grows angry We are well, and always mindful of you; if it be not treated with some management and mindful of us, and assured that we love you. good manners, and scolds again. A surly mastiff will bear perhaps to be stroked, though he will growl even under that operation, but if you touch him roughly, he will bite. There is no grace that the spirit of self can counterfeit with more success than a religious zeal. A man thinks he is fighting MY DEAR FRIEND, for Christ, and he is fighting for his own notions. You can not have more pleasure in receiving a He thinks that he is skilfully searching the hearts letter from me, than I should find in writing it, of others, when he is only gratifying the malignity were it not almost impossible in such a place to of his own, and charitably supposes his hearers find a subject. destitute of all grace, that he may shine the more I live in a world abounding with incidents, upon in his own eyes by comparison. When he has which many grave, and perhaps some profitable performed this notable task, he wonders that they observations might be made; but those incidents are not converted: 'he has given it them soundly, never reaching my unfortunate ears, both the enand if they do not tremble, and confess that God tertaining narrative and the reflection it might is in him of a truth, he gives them up as reprobate, suggest are to me annihilated and lost. I look incorrigible, and lost for .ever.' But a man that back to the past week, and say, what did it proloves me, if he sees me in an error, will pity me, duce? I ask the same question of the week preand endeavour calmly to convince me of it, and ceding, and duly receive the same answer from persuade me to forsake it. If he has great and both-nothing!-A situation like this, in which I good news to tell me, he will not do it angrily, and am as unknown to the world, as I am ignorant in much heat and discomposure of spirit. It is not of all that passes in it, in which I have nothing to therefore easy to conceive on what ground a minis- do but to think, would exactly suit me, were my ter can justify a conduct which only proves that subjects of meditation as agreeable as my leisure is he does not understand his errand. The absurdity uninterrupted. My passion for retirement is not of it would certainly strike him, if he were not at all abated, after so many years spent in the himself deluded. most sequestered state, but rather increased. A A people will always love a minister, if a minis- circumstance I should esteem wonderful to a deter seems to love his people. The old maxim, Si-gree not to be accounted for, considering the conmile agit in simile, is in no case more exactly veri-dition of my mind, did I not know, that we think fied: therefore you were beloved at Olney, and as we are made to think, and of course approve and if you preached to the Chickesawes, and Chach- prefer, as Providence, who appoints the bounds taws, would be equally beloved by them. TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. of our habitation, chooses for us. Thus am I both free and a prisoner at the same time. The world is before me; I am not shut up in the Bastile; there are no moats about my castle, no locks upon my gates, of which I have not the key-but an MY DEAR FRIEND, June 19, 1783. invisible, uncontrollable agency, a local attachTHE translation of your letters into Dutch was ment, an inclination more forcible than I ever felt, news that pleased me much. I intended plain even to the place of my birth, serves me for prison prose, but a rhyme obtruded itself, and I became walls, and for bounds which I can not pass. In poetical when I least expected it. When you former years I have known sorrow, and before I wrote those letters you did not dream that you had ever tasted of spiritual trouble. The effect were designed for an apostle to the Dutch. Yet was an abhorrence of the scene in which I had so it proves, and such among many others are the suffered so much, and a weariness of those objects advantages we derive from the art of printing: an which I had so long looked at with an eye of desart in which indisputably man was instructed by pondency and dejection. But it is otherwise with |