ser's eloquence any longer, rose from his seat, el-not have dishonoured the best hound in the world, bowed for himself a passage through the crowd, pursuing precisely the same track which the fox and at last burst from the senate house in an and the dogs had taken, though he had never had agony, as if the furies themselves had followed a glimpse of either after their first entrance through him. the rails, arrived where he found the slaughtered And now, my dear, though I have thus spoken, prey. He soon produced dead reynard, and reand have seemed to plead the cause of that spc-joined us in the grove with all his dogs about him. cies of eloquence which you, and every creature Having an opportunity to see a ceremony, which who has your sentiments must necessarily dislike, I was pretty sure would never fall in my way again, perhaps I am not altogether convinced of its pro-I determined to stay, and to notice all that passed priety. Perhaps, at the bottom, I am much more with the most minute attention. The huntsman of opinion that if the charge, unaccompanied by having, by the aid of a pitchfork, lodged reynard any inflammatory matter, and simply detailed, be- on the arm of an elm, at the height of about nine ing once delivered into the court, and read aloud; feet from the ground, there left him for a considthe witnesses were immediately examined, and erable time. The gentlemen sat on their horses sentence pronounced according to the evidence; contemplating the fox, for which they had toiled so not only the process would be shortened, much hard; and the hounds assembled at the foot of the time and much expense saved, but justice would tree, with faces not less expressive of the most rahave at least as fair play as now she has. Preju- tional delight, contemplated the same object. The dice is of no use in weighing the question-guilty huntsman remounted; cut off a foot and threw it or not guilty-and the principal aim, end, and to the hounds-one of them swallowed it whole effect of such introductory harangues is to create like a bolus. He then once more alighted, and as much prejudice as possible. When you and I drawing down the fox by the hinder legs, desired therefore shall have the sole management of such the people, who were by this time rather numera business entrusted to us, we will order it other-ous, to open a lane for him to the right and left. wise. He was instantly obeyed, when throwing the fox I was glad to learn from the papers that our to the distance of some yards, and screaming like cousin Henry shone as he did in reading the charge. a fiend, "tear him to pieces"—at least six times This must have given much pleasure to the Gen- repeatedly, he consigned him over absolutely to eral. Thy ever affectionate, W. C. the pack, who in a few minutes devoured him completely. Thus, my dear, as Virgil says, what none of the gods could have ventured to promise me, time itself, pursuing its accustomed course, has of its own accord presented me with. I have been in at the death of a fox, and you now know as much of the matter as I, who am as well informed as any sportsman in England. TO LADY HESKETH. Yours, W. C. TO LADY HESKETH. The Lodge, March 12, 1788. The Lodge, March 3, 1788. UNE day last week, Mrs. Unwin and I, having taken our morning walk, and returning homeward through the wilderness, met the Throckmortons. A minute after we had met them, we heard the cry of hounds at no great distance, and mounting the broad stump of an elm, which had been felled, and by the aid of which we were enabled to look over the wall, we saw them. They were all at that time in our orchard; presently we heard a SLAVERY, and the Manners of the Great, I have terrier belonging to Mrs. Throckmorton, which read. The former I admired, as I do all that Miss you may remember by the name of Fury, yelping More writes, as well for energy of expression, as with much vehemence, and saw her running for the tendency of the design. I have never yet through the thickets within a few yards of us at seen any production of her pen, that has not reher utmost speed, as if in pursuit of something commended itself by both these qualifications. which we doubted not was the fox. Before we There is likewise much good sense in her manner could reach the other end of the wilderness, the of treating every subject, and no mere poetic cant hounds entered also; and when we arrived at the (which is the thing that I abhor,) in her manner gate which opens into the grove, there we found of treating any. And this I say, not because you the whole weary cavalcade assembled. The hunts- now know and visit her, but it has long been my man dismounting begged leave to follow his hounds opinion of her works, which I have both spoken on foot, for he was sure, he said, that they had and written, as often as I have had occasion to killed him. A conclusion which I suppose he mention them. drew from their profound silence. He was acc- Mr. Wilberforce's little book (if he was the au cordingly admitted, and with a sagacity that would thor of it) has also charmed me. It must, I should They will W.C. TO THE REV. WALTER BAGOT. imagine, engage the notice of those to whom it is tunity should occur, send them also. If this amuses addressed. In that case one may say to them, you, I shall be glad.* either answer it, or be set down by it. do neither. They will approve, commend, and forget it. Such has been the fate of all exhortations to reform, whether in verse or prose, and however closely pressed upon the conscience, in all ages. Here and there a happy individual, to whom God gives grace and wisdom to profit by the admonition, is the better for it. But the aggregate body (as Gilbert Cooper used to call the multitude) remain, though with a very good understanding of the matter, like horse and mule that have none. terest one. The spring is come, but not I suppose that spring which our poets have celebrated. So I judge at least by the extreme severity of the season, sunless skies, and freezing blasts, surpassing all that we experienced in the depth of winter. How do you dispose of yourself in this howling month of March? As for me, I walk daily, be the weather what it may, take bark, and write verses. By the aid of such means as these, I combat the north-east wind with some measure of success, and look forward, with the hope of enjoying it, to the warmth of summer. We shall now soon lose our neighbours at the Hall. We shall truly miss them, and long for their return. Mr. Throckmorton said to me last night, with sparkling eyes, and a face expressive of the highest pleasure-" We compared you this morning with Pope; we read your fourth Iliad, and his, and I verily think we shall beat him. Have you seen a little volume lately published, He has many superfluous lines, and does not in- entitled The Manners of the Great? It is said to When I read your translation, I am have been written by Mr. Wilberforce, but whe deeply affected. I see plainly your advantage, and ther actually written by him or not, is undoubtedly am convinced that Pope spoiled all by attempting the work of some man intimately acquainted with the work in rhyme." His brother George, who is the subject, a gentleman, and a man of letters. If my most active amanuensis, and who indeed first it makes the impression on those to whom it is introduced the subject, seconded all he said. More addressed, that may be in some degree expected would have passed, but Mrs. Throckmorton hav- from his arguments, and from his manner of pressing seated herself at the harpsichord, and for my ing them, it will be well. But you and I have lived amusement merely, my attention was of course long enough in the world to know that the hope turned to her. The new vicar of Olney is ar- of a general reformation in any class of men whatrived, and we have exchanged visits. He is a ever, or of women either, may easily be too sanplain, sensible man, and pleases me much. A guine. treasure for Olney, if Olney can understand his value. W. C. TO GENERAL COWPER. I have now given the last revisal to as much of my translation as was ready for it, and do not know, that I shall bestow another single stroke of my pen on that part of it before I send it to the press. My business at present is with the sixteenth book, in which I have made some progress, MY DEAR GENERAL, Weston, 1788. but have not yet actually sent forth Patrocles to A LETTER is not pleasant which excites curiosi- the battle. My first translation lies always before ty, but does not gratify it. Such a letter was my me; line by line I examine it as I proceed, and line last, the defects of which I therefore take the first by line reject it. I do not however hold myself opportunity to supply. When the condition of our altogether indebted to my critics for the better negroes in the islands was first presented to me as judgment, that I seem to exercise in this matter a subject for songs, I felt myself not at all allured now than in the first instance. By long study to the undertaking: it seemed to offer only images of him, I am in fact become much more familiar of horror, which could by no means be accommo- with Homer than at any time heretofore, and dated to the style of that sort of composition. But have possessed myself of such a taste of his manhaving a desire to comply, if possible, with the re- ner, as is not to be attained by mere cursory readquest made to me, after turning the matter in my ing for amusement. But, alas! 'tis after all a mind as many ways as I could, I at last, as I told mortifying consideration that the majority of my you, produced three, and that which appears to judges hereafter will be no judges of this. Græcum myself the best of those three, I have sent you. Of est, non potest legi, is a motto that would suit the other two, one is serious, in a strain of thought nine in ten of those who will give themselves airs perhaps rather too serious, and I could not help about it, and pretend to like or to dislike. No matit. The other, of which the slave-trader is himself the subject, is somewhat ludicrous. If I could think them worth your seeing, I would, as oppor- ter. • The Morning Dream (see Poems) accompanied this 1 ter. I know I shall please you, because I know | haps his own of an embellishment which wanted what pleases you, and am sure that I have done only to be noticed. it. Adieu! my good friend, Ever affectionately yours, W. C. TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. MY DEAR FRIEND, Weston, March 29, 1788. If you hear ballads sung in the streets on the hardships of the negroes in the islands, they are probably mine. It must be an honour to any man to have given a stroke to that chain, however feeble. I fear however that the attempt will fail. The tidings which have lately reached me from London concerning it, are not the most encouraging. While the matter slept, or was but slightly ad I REJOICE that you have so successfully perform-verted to, the English only had their share of ed so long a journey without the aid of hoofs or shame in common with other nations on account wheels. I do not know that a journey on foot of it. But since it has been canvassed and searchexposes a man to more disasters than a carriage or a horse; perhaps it may be the safer way of traveling, but the novelty of it impressed me with some anxiety on your account. It seems almost incredible to myself, that my company should be at all desirable to you, or to any man. I know so little of the world as it goes at present, and labour generally under such a depression of spirits, especially at those times when I could wish to be most cheerful, that my own share in every conversation appears to me to be the most insipid thing imaginable. But you say you found it otherwise, and I will not for my own sake doubt your sincerity, de gustibus non est disputandum, and since such is yours, I shall leave you in quiet possession of it, wishing indeed both its continuance and increase. I shall not find a properer place in which to say, accept of Mrs. Unwin's acknowledgments, as well as mine, for the kindness of your expressions on this subject, and be assured of an undissembling welcome at all times, when it shall suit you to give us your company at Weston. As to her, she is one of the sincerest of the human race, and if she receives you with the appearance of pleasure, it is because she feels it. Her behaviour on such occasions is with her an affair of conscience, and she dares no more look a falsehood than utter one. ed to the bottom, since the public attention has been riveted to the horrible scheme, we can no longer plead either that we did not know it, o did not think of it. Wo be to us if we refuse the poor captives the redress to which they had so clear a right, and prove ourselves in the sight of God and men indifferent to all considerations but Adieu. W. C. those of gain! TO LADY HESKETH. The Lodge, March 31, 1788. MY DEAREST COUSIN, It is almost time to tell you that I have received the books safe, they have not suffered the least detriment by the way, and I am much obliged to you for them. If my translation should be a little delayed in consequence of this favour of yours, you must take the blame on yourself. It is impossible not to read the notes of a commentator so learned, so judicious, and of so fine a taste as Dr. Clarke, having him at one's elbow. Though he If any thing could have raised Miss More to a has been but a few hours under my roof, I have higher place in my opinion than she possessed already peeped at him, and find that he will be before, it could only be your information that, instar omnium to me. They are such notes ex-after all, she, and not Mr. Wilberforce, is author actly as I wanted. A translator of Homer should of that volume. How comes it to pass, that she, ever have somebody at hand to say, "that's a being a woman, writes with a force, and energy, Deauty," lest he should slumber where his author and a correctness hitherto arrogated by the men, does not; not only depreciating, by such inadver- and not very frequently displayed even by the tency, the work of his original, but depriving per- men themselves. Adieu, W. C. TO LADY HESKETH. The Lodge, May 6, 1788. MY DEAREST COUSIN, |other language--and secondly, that inkle-weavers contract intimacies with each other sooner than other people on account of their juxtaposition in weaving of inkle. Hence it is that Mr. Gregson and I emulate those happy weavers in the closeYou ask me how I like Smollett's Don Quix-ness of our connexion. We live near to each ote? I answer, well, perhaps better than any other, and while the Hall is empty are each body's. But having no skill in the original, some others' only extraforaneous comfort. diffidence becomes me. That is to say, I do not Most truly thine, W. C. TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. Weston, May 8, 1788. A thousand thanks, my dear, for the new conALAS! my library!-I must now give it up for venience in the way of stowage which you are so a lost thing for ever. The only consolation bekind as to intend me. There is nothing in which longing to the circumstance is, or seems to be, I am so deficient as repositories for letters, papers, that no such loss did ever befall any other man, or and litter of all sorts. Your last present has help-can ever befall me again. As far as books are ed me somewhat; but not with respect to such concerned I am things as require lock and key, which are numerous. A box therefore so secured will be to me and may set fortune at defiance. The books an invaluable acquisition. And since you leave which had been my father's had most of them his me to my option, what shall be the size thereof, I of course prefer a folio. On the back of the book-neither his name nor mine. I could mourn for arms on the inside cover, but the rest no mark, seeming box some artist, expert in those matters, them like Sancho for his Dapple, but it would may inscribe these words, avail me nothing. Collectanea curiosa. Totus teres atque rotundus, You will oblige me much by sending me Crazy The English of which is, a collection of curiosi- Kate. A gentleman last winter promised me ties. A title which I prefer to all others, because both her and the Lace-maker, but he went to if I live, I shall take care that the box shall merit London, that place in which, as in the grave, it, and because it will operate as an incentive to "all things are forgotten," and I have never seen open that, which being locked can not be opened. either of them. For in these cases the greater the balk, the more wit is discovered by the ingenious contriver of it, viz. myself. I begin to find some prospect of a conclusion, of the Iliad at least, now opening upon me, having reached the eighteenth book. Your letter The General I understand by his last letter is found me yesterday in the very fact of dispersing in town. In my last to him, I told him news; the whole host of Troy by the voice only of Achilpossibly it will give you pleasure, and ought for les. There is nothing extravagant in the idea, for that reason to be made known to you as soon as you have witnessed a similar effect attending even possible. My friend Rowley, who I told you has such a voice as mine at midnight, from a garret after twenty-five years' silence renewed his cor- window, on the dogs of a whole parish, whom I respondence with me, and who now lives in Ire- have put to flight in a moment. land, where he has many and considerable connexions, has sent to me for thirty subscription papers. Rowley is one of the most benevolent and friendly creatures in the world, and wil, I dare say, do all in his power to serve me. TO LADY HESKETH. W.C. The Lodge, May 12, 1788. I am just recovered from a violent cold, attend- It is probable, my dearest coz, that I shall not ed by a cough, which split my head while it last- be able to write much, but as much as I can I ed. I escaped these tortures all the winter, but will. The time between rising and breakfast is whose constitution, or what skin, can possibly be all that I can at present find, and this morning I proof against our vernal breezes in England? lay longer than usual. Mine never were, nor will be. In the style of the lady's note to you I can easiWhen people are intimate, we say they are as ly perceive a snatch of her character. Neither great as two inkle-weavers, on which expression men nor women write with such neatness of exI have to remark in the first place, that the word pression, who have not given a good deal of atgreat is here used in a sense which the corres- tention to language, and qualified themselves by pording term has not, so far as I know, in any study. At the same time it gave me much more pleasure to observe that my coz, though not stand-|The whole kingdom can hardly furnish a spectaing on the pinnacle of renown quite so elevated, cle more pleasing to a man who has a taste for as that which lifts Mrs. Montagu to the clouds, true happiness, than himself, Mrs. C—, and falls in no degree short of her in this particular; their multitudinous family. Seven long miles are so that should she make you a member of her aca- interposed between us, or perhaps I should oftener demy, she will do it honour. Suspect me not of have an opportunity of declaiming on this subject. flattering you, for I abhor the thought; neither I am now in the nineteenth book of the Iliad, will you suspect it. Recollect that it is an invaria- and on the point of displaying such feats of heroble rule with me, never to pay compliments to ism performed by Achilles, as make all other those I love. achievements trivial. I may well exclaim, O! for Two days, en suite, I have walked to Gayhurst; a muse of fire! especially having not only a great a longer journey than I have walked on foot these host to copo with, but a great river also; much seventeen years. The first day I went alone, de- however may be done, when Homer leads the way. signing merely to make the experiment, and I should not have chosen to have been the original choosing to be at liberty to return at whatsoever author of such a business, even though all the nine point of my pilgrimage I should find myself fa- had stood at my elbow. Time has wonderful eftigued. For I was not without suspicion that fects. We admire that in an ancient, for which years, and some other things no less injurious we should send a modern bard to Bedlam. than years, viz. melancholy and distress of mind, I saw at Mr. C's a great curiosity; an anmight by this time have unfitted me for such tique bust of Paris in Parian marble. You will achievements. But I found it otherwise. I reach- conclude that it interested me exceedingly, I ed the church, which stands, as you know, in the pleased myself with supposing that it once stood garden, in fifty-five minutes, and returned in ditto in Helen's chamber. It was in fact brought from time to Weston. The next day I took the same the Levant, and though not well mended (for it walk with Mr. Powley, having a desire to show had suffered much by time) is an admirable per him the prettiest place in the country. I not only formance. performed these two excursions without injury to my health, but have by means of them gained indisputable proof that my ambulatory faculty is not yet impaired; a discovery which, considering that to my feet alone I am likely, as I have ever been, to be indebted always for my transportation from place to place, I find very delectable. You will find in the Gentleman's Magazine a sonnet addressed to Henry Cowper, signed T. H. I am the writer of it. No creature knows this but yourself; you will make what use of the intelligence you shall see good. TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. MY DEAR FRIEND, W. C. May 24, 1788. W. C. TO LADY HESKETH MY DEAR COZ, The Lodge, May 27, 1788. THE General, in a letter which came yesterday, sent me enclosed a copy of my sonnet; thus introducing it. "I send a copy of verses somebody has written in the Gentleman's Magazine for April last. Independent of my partiality towards the subject, 1 think the lines themselves are good." Thus it appears that my poetical adventure has succeeded to my wish, and I write to him by this post, on purpose to inform him that the somebody in question is myself. I no longer wonder that Mrs. Montagu stands FOR two excellent prints I return you my sin-at the head of all that is called learned, and that cere acknowledgments. I can not say that poor every critic veils his bonnet to her superior judg Kate remembles much the original, who was nei- ment. I am now reading, and have reached the ther so young nor so handsome as the pencil has middle of her Essay on the Genius of Shakspeare, represented her; but she was a figure well suited a book of which, strange as it may seem, though I to the account given of her in the Task, and has must have read it formerly, I had absolutely forgot a face exceedingly expressive of despairing me- the existence. lancholy. The lace-maker is accidentally a good The learning, the good sense, the sound judg likeness of a young woman, once our neighbour, ment, and the wit displayed in it, fully justify not who was hardly less handsome than the picture only my compliment, but all compliments that twenty years ago; but the loss of one husband, either have been already paid to her talents, or and the acquisition of another, have, since that time, impaired her much; yet she might still be supposed to have sat to the artist. We dined yesterday with your friend and mine, the most companionable and domestic Mr. C shall be paid hereafter. Voltaire, I doubt not, rejoiced that his antagonist wrote in English, and that his countrymen could not possibly be judges of the dispute. Could they have known how much she was in the right, and by how many thousand |