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memorate a man distinguished by so many virtues, and associated with such interesting recollections. We are happy in being enabled to furnish a testimony more worthy of him in the following letter, addressed by Cowper to the present Lord Carrington.

TO ROBERT SMITH, ESQ.*

Weston-Underwood, near Olney, Dec. 9, 1786.

My dear Sir, We have indeed suffered a great loss by the death of our friend Unwin; and the shock that attended it was the more severe, as till within a few hours of his decease there seemed to be no very alarming symptoms. All the account that we received from Mr. Henry Thornton, who acted like a true friend on the occasion, and with a tenderness toward all concerned that does him great honor, encouraged our hopes of his recovery; and Mrs. Unwin herself found him on her arrival at Winchester so cheerful, and in appearance so likely to live, that her letter also seemed to promise us all that we could wish on the subject. But an unexpected turn in his distemper, which suddenly seized his bowels, dashed all our hopes, and deprived us almost immediately of a man whom we must ever regret. His mind having been from his infancy deeply tinctured with religious sentiments, he was always impressed with a sense of the importance of the great change of all; and, on former occasions, when at any time he found himself indisposed, was consequently subject to distressing alarms and apprehensions. But in this last instance his mind was from the first composed and easy; his fears were taken away, and succeeded by such a resignation as warrants us in saying, "that God made all his bed in his sickness." I believe it is always thus, where the heart, though upright towards God, as Unwin's assuredly was, is yet troubled with the fear of death. When death indeed comes, he is either welcome, or at least has lost his sting.

I have known many such instances, and his mother, from the moment that she learned with what tranquillity he was favored in his last illuess, for that very reason expected it would be his last. Yet not with so much certainty, but that the favorable accounts of him at length, in a great measure, superseded that persuasion.

She begs me to assure you, my dear sir, how sensible she is, as well as myself, of the kindness of your inquiries. She suffers this stroke, not with more patience and submission than I expected, for I never knew her hurried by any affliction into the loss of either, but in appearance at least, and at present, with less injury to health than I apprehended. She observed to me, after read

* Afterwards created Lord Carringtou.

ing your kind letter, that though it was a proof of the greatness of her loss, yet it afforded her pleasure, though a melancholy one, to see how much her son had been loved and valued by such a person as yourself.

Mrs. Unwin wrote to her daughter-in-law, to invite her and the family hither, hoping that a change of scene, and a situation so pleasant as this, may be of service to her, have good hope, however, that, great as her but we have not yet received her answer. I affliction must be, she will yet be able to support it, for she well knows whither to re

sort for consolation.

The virtues and amiable qualities of our friends are the things for which we most wish to keep them; but they are, on the ought to reconcile us to their departure. We other hand, the very things that in particular find ourselves sometimes connected with, and engaged in affection, too, to a person of whose readiness and fitness for another life death of such men has a bitterness in it, we cannot have the highest opinion. The both to themselves and survivors, which, thank God, is not to be found in the death of

Unwin.

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Joseph Hill, Esq., survived Cowper many years, and lived to an advanced age. formerly resided in Great Queen Street, and afterwards in Saville Row, and was eminent in his profession. His widow survived him, and died in the year 1824. The letters addressed to him by Cowper were arranged by Dr. Johnson, and ornamented with a suitable binding. They were finally left as an heirloom at Wargrave, near Henley. Joseph Jekyll, Esq., the barrister, once celebrated for his wit and humor, succeeded to that property, and still survives at the moment in which we are writing.

Samuel Rose, Esq., after a comparatively short career of professional eminence, was seized with a rheumatic fever, which he caught at Horsham, in attending the Sussex sessions, in 1804. He died in the thirtyeighth year of his age, declaring to those around him, "I have lived long enough to review my grounds for confidence, and I have unspeakable comfort in assuring those I love that I am daily more reconciled in leaving the world now than at a later period."

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Cowper's sentiments of him are expressed has endeavored to trace the nature of the in the following letter.

TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.

Weston-Underwood, Dec. 2, 1788.

My dear Friend,—I told you lately, that had an ambition to introduce to your ac

I quaintance my valuable friend, Mr. Rose. He is now before you. You will find him a person of genteel manners and agreeable conversation. As to his other virtues and good qualities, which are many, and such as are not often found in men of his years, I consign them over to your own discernment, perfectly sure that none of them will escape you. I give you joy of each other, and remain, my dear old friend, most truly yours, W. C.

In recalling the name of Lady Austen, it is sufficient to entitle her to grateful remembrance, that it is to her we are indebted for the first suggestion of the poem of "The Task," that lasting monument of the fame of Cowper. It has also been recorded that she subsequently furnished the materials for the story of John Gilpin.

Her maiden name was Richardson; she was married very early in life to Sir Robert Austen, Baronet, and resided with him in France, where he died. After this event, she lived with her sister Mrs. Jones, the wife of the Rev. Mr. Jones, minister of Clifton, near Olney. It was thus that her intercourse commenced with Cowper. In a subsequent period, she was married to a native of France, M. de Tardiff, a gentleman, and a poet, who has expressed, in some elegant French verses, his just and deep sense of her accomplished, endearing character. In visiting Paris with him in the course of the summer of 1802, she sank under the fatigue of the excursion, and died in that city on the 12th of August. It is due to the memory of this lady to rescue her name from a surmise injurious to her sincerity and honor; and the Editor rejoices that he possesses the means of affording her what he conceives to be an ample justification. In the published correspondence of the late respected Alexander Knox, Esq., a doubt is expressed how far she is not chargeable with endeavoring to supplant Mrs. Unwin in the affections of Cowper. It is already

recorded that a breach occurred between the two ladies, and that the poet, with a sensi*tiveness and delicacy that reflect the highest credit on his feelings and judgment, relinquished the society of Lady Austen from that period. They never met again. There is no direct charge conveyed by Mr. Knox, but there is evidently expressed the language of doubt and surmise. Local impressions are often the best interpretation of questionable occurrences. With this view the Editor

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rupture, on the spot, by a communication with surviving parties. From these sources of inquiry it appears that Lady Austen was a woman of great wit and vivacity, and pos sessed the power of exciting much interest by her manner and conversation—that Mrs. Unwin, who was of a more sedate and quiet character, seeing the ascendancy that Lady Austen thus acquired, became jealous, and that a rupture was the consequence. Mr. Andrews, an intelligent inhabitant of Olney, who is my informant, assured me that such

was the substance of the case, and that the rest was mere surmise and conjecture. On my asking him whether he knew the impres sions on Mr. Scott's mind with regard to this event, he added, "that he himself asked Mr. Scott the question, and that his reply was, Who can be surprised that two women should be continually in the society of one man, and quarrel sooner or later with each other?" The blunt and honest reply of Mr. Scott we apprehend to be the best commentary on the transaction. There may be jealousies in friendship as well as in love; and the possibility of female rivalship is sufficient to account for the rupture, without the intervention of either friendship or love.

From Mrs. Livius, of Bedford, formerly Miss Barham,* and intimate with Newton, Cowper, and Lady Austen, I learn that, though the vivacity and manner of Lady Austen weakened the belief of the depth of her personal religion, yet Mrs. Livius never entertained any doubt of its reality. Her own deep personal piety during a long life, and her just discrimination of character, are sufficient to give weight and authority to her judgment.

I take this opportunity of expressing her conviction that the loss of Lady Austen's society was a great privation to Cowper; that she both enlivened his spirits and stimulated his genius, and that the jealousy of Mrs. Unwin operated injuriously by compelling him to relinquish so innocent a source of gratification. Hayley, in some lines written on the occasion of her death, speaks of her as one who

Wak'd in a poet inspiration's flame;
Sent the freed eagle in the sun to bask,
And from the mind of Cowper-call'd "The

Task."

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already recorded, and with this event the genius of the place may be said to have deserted its hallowed retreats, for the mansion exists no longer. His surviving estimable widow, the Catharina of Cowper, resides at Northampton.

Lady Hesketh, whose affectionate kindness to the poet must have endeared her to every reader, died in the year 1807, aged seventyfour.

TO THE REV. WILLIAM BULL.

March 24, 1782.

Your letter gave me great pleasure, both as a testimony of your approbation and of your regard. I wrote in hopes of pleasing confess that, at the same time, I cast a sideyou, and such as you; and though I must long glance at the good liking of the world at large, I believe I can say it was more for the sake of their advantage and instruction than their praise. They are children; if we give them physic, we must sweeten the rim of the cup with honey-if my book is so far honored as to be made the vehicle of true knowledge to any that are ignorant, I shall rejoice, and do already rejoice that it has procured me a proof of your esteem.

Yours, most truly, W. C.

Mr. Bull was distinguished by no common powers of mind, brilliant wit, and imagination. It was at his suggestion that Cowper engaged in translating the poems of Madame Guion. He died, as he lived, in the hopes and consolations of the Gospel, and left a son, the Rev. Thomas Bull, who inherits his father's virtues.

To the Editor's brother-in-law, the Rev. Dr. Johnson, several testimonies have already been borne in the course of this work. He was cousin to the poet, by one remove, which was the reason why he was usually designated as Cowper's kinsman, his mother having been the daughter of the Rev. Roger Donne, rector of Catfield, Norfolk, own brother to Cowper's mother. His unremitting and watchful care over the poet, for several successive years, and during a period marked by a painful and protracted malady, his generous sacrifice of his time, and of every personal consideration, that he might administer to the peace and comfort of his afflicted friendhis affectionate sympathy, and uniform forgetfulness of self, in all the various relations of life-these virtues have justly claimed for Dr. Johnson the esteem and love of his friends, and the honorable distinction of being ever identified with the endeared name Wherever men have acquired celebrity by of Cowper. He was rector of the united those powers of genius with which Proviparishes of Yaxham and Welborne, in the dence has seen fit to discriminate them, a county of Norfolk, where he preached the curiosity prevails to learn all the minuter doctrines of the Gospel with fidelity, and traits of person, habit, and real character. adorned them by the Christian tenor of his We wish to realize the portrait before our life and conduct. He married Miss Livius, eyes, to see how far all the component parts daughter of the late George Livius, Esq., are in harmony with each other; or whether formerly at the head of the commissariat, the elevation of mind which raises them in India, during the government of Warren beyond the general standard is perceptible Hastings. The Editor was connected with in the occurrences of common life. Tell him by marrying the sister of Mrs. Johnson.me, said an inquirer, writing from America, He departed in the autumn of the year 1833, after a short illness, and was followed to the grave by a crowded assemblage of his parishioners, to whom he was endeared by his virtues. He left his estimable widow and four surviving children to lament his loss. Cowper was engraved on his heart, and his Poems minutely impressed on his memory. Both, therefore, became a frequent theme of conversation; and it is to these sources of information, that the writer is indebted for the knowledge of many facts and incidents that are incorporated in the present edition.

The value which Cowper attached to the esteem of the Rev. W. Bull, the friend and travelling companion of John Thornton, Esq., may be seen in the following letter. It alludes to the approbation expressed by Mr. Bull on the publication of his first volume of poems.

what was the figure of Cowper, what the character of his countenance, the expression of his eye, his manner, his habits, the house he lived in, whether its aspect was north or south, &c. This is amusing, but it shows the power of sympathy with which we are drawn to whatever commands our admiration, and excites the emotions of esteem and love.

The person and mind of Cowper seem to have been formed with equal kindness by nature; and it may be questioned if she ever bestowed on any man, with a fonder prodigality, all the requisites to conciliate affection and to inspire respect.

He is said to have been handsome in his youth. His features strongly expressed the powers of his mind and all the sensibility of his heart; and even in his declining years, time seemed to have spared much of its ravages, though his mind was harassed by unceasing nervous excitement.

He was of a middle stature, rather strong than delicate in the form of his limbs; the color of his hair was a light brown, that of his eyes a bluish grey, and his complexion ruddy. In his dress he was neat, but not finical; in his diet temperate, and not dainty. He had an air of pensive reserve in his deportment, and his extreme shyness sometimes produced in his manners an indescribable mixture of awkwardness and dignity; but no person could be more truly graceful, when he was in perfect health, and perfectly pleased with his society. Towards women, in particular, his behavior and conversation were delicate and fascinating in the highest degree.

There was a simplicity of manner and character in Cowper which always charms, and is often the attribute of real genius. He was singularly calculated to excite emotions of esteem and love by those qualities that win confidence and inspire sympathy. In friendship he was uniformly faithful; and, if the events of life had not disappointed his fondest hopes, no man would have been more eminently adapted for the endearments of domestic life.

His daily habits of study and exercise are so minutely and agreeably delineated in his letters, that they present a perfect portrait of his domestic character.

His voice conspired with his features to announce to all who saw and heard him the extreme sensibility of his heart; and in reading aloud he furnished the chief delight of those social, enchanting winter evenings, which he has described so happily in the fourth book of "The Task."

Secluded from the world as he had long been, he yet retained in advanced life singular talents for conversation; and his remarks were uniformly distinguished by mild and benevolent pleasantry, by a strain of delicate humor, varied by solid and serious good sense, and those united charms of a cultivated mind, which he has himself very happily described in drawing the character

of a venerable friend :

Grave without dullness, learned without pride.
Exact, yet not precise: though meek, keen-eyed;
Who, when occasion justified its use.
Had wit, as bright as ready, to produce;
Could fetch from records of an earlier age,
Or from philosophy's enlightened page,
His rich materials, and regale your ear
With strains, it was a privilege to hear.
Yet above all, his luxury supreme,
And his chief glory, was the gospel theme:
Ambitious not to shine or to excel,
But to treat justly what he lov'd so well.

But the traits of his character are nowhere developed with happier effect than in his own writings, and especially in his poems. From

these we shall make a few extracts, and suf fer him to draw the portrait for himself.

His admiration of the works of Nature:

I never fram'd a wish, or form'd a plan,
That flatter'd me with hopes of earthly bliss
But there I laid the scene. There early stray'd
My fancy, ere yet liberty of choice
Had found me, or the hope of being free,
My very dreams were rural; rural too
The first-born efforts of my youthful muse,
Sportive and jingling her poetic bells,
No bard could please me but whose lyre was
Ere yet her car was mistress of their pow'rs.
To Nature's praises.

tun'd

Task, book iv.

The love of Nature's works

Is an ingredient in the compound man,

Infus'd at the creation of the kind.

This obtains in all,

That all discern a beauty in his works, [form'd
And all can taste them: minds that have been
And tutor'd, with a relish more exact,
But none without some relish. none unmov'd.
It is a flame that dies not even there
Where nothing feeds it: neither business crowds,
Nor habits of luxurious city-life.
Whatever else they smother of true worth
In human bosoms, quench it or abate.
The villas with which London stands begirt.
Like a swarth Indian with his belt of beads,
Prove it. A breath of unadult rate air,
The glimpse of a green pasture, how they cheer
The citizen, and brace his languid frame

Book it.

God seen, and adored, in the works of
Nature:
Not a flow'r

But shows some touch in freckle, streak, or stain.
Of his unrivall'd pencil. He inspires
Their balmy odors, and imparts their hues
And bathes their eyes with nectar and includes,
In grains as countless as the sea-side sands,
The forms with which he sprinkles all the earth.
Book vi.

His fondness for retirement:
And silent woods I wander, far from those
Since then, with few associates, in remote
My former partners of the peopled scene;

With few associates, and not wishing more.
Here much I ruminate, as much I may.
With other views of men and manners now
Than once, and others of a life to come.
I see that all are wand'rers, gone astray,
Each in his own delusions; they are lost
In chase of fancied happiness, still woo'd
And never won. Dream after dream ensues;
And still they dream that they shall still succeed
And still are disappointed. Rings the world
With the vain stir. I sum up half mankind.
And add two-thirds of the remaining half
And find the total of their hopes and fears
Dreams, empty dreams.

Book üi.

His love for his country: England, with all thy faults I love thee stillMy country! and, while yet a nook is left,

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His humane and generous feelings:

I was born of woman, and drew milk
As sweet as charity from human breasts.
I think, articulate, I laugh and weep,
And exercise all functions of a man.
How then should I and any man that lives
Be strangers to each other? Pierce my vein,
Take of the crimson stream meand'ring there,
And catechise it well; apply thy glass.
Search it, and prove now if it be not blood
Congenial with thine own.

His love of liberty:

Book iii.

Oh Liberty! the prisoner's pleasing dream,
The poet's muse, his passion and his theme;
Genius is thine, and thou art fancy's nurse;
Lost without thee the ennobling powers of verse;
Heroic song from thy free touch acquires
Its clearest tone, the rapture it inspires:

But all is in his hand, whose praise I seek.
In vain the poet sings, and the world hears,
If he regard not, though divine the theme.
'Tis not in artful measures, in the chime
And idle tinkling of a minstrel's lyre,
To charm his ear whose eye is on the heart
Whose frown can disappoint the proudest strain,
Whose approbation prosper-even mine.

Book vi.

The office of doing justice to the poetical genius of Cowper has been assigned to an individual so well qualified to execute it with taste and ability, that the Editor begs thus publicly to record his acknowledgments and his unmingled satisfaction. The bowers of the muses are not unknown to the Rev. John Cunningham, and, in contemplating the poetical labors of others, he might, with a small variation, justly apply to himself the wellknown exclamation, "Ed anch'io son pittore."*

All, therefore, that seems necessary, is simply to illustrate the beauties of Cowper's poetry in the same manner as we have exhibited his personal character. We shall present a brief series of poetical portraits.

Place me where winter breathes his keenest air, is drawn with great force and spirit:

The following portrait of Lord Chatham

And I will sing, if liberty be there;
And I will sing at liberty's dear feet,

In Afric's torrid clime, or India's fiercest heat.

Table Talk.

"Tis liberty alone, that gives the flow'r Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume; And we are weeds without it.

Task, book v.

His depressive malady, and the source of

its cure:

I was a stricken deer, that left the herd
Long since; with many an arrow deep infix'd
My panting side was charg'd, when I withdrew
To seek a tranquil death in distant shades.
There was I found by One, who had himself
Been hurt by the archers. In his side be bore,
And in his hands and feet, the cruel scars.*
With gentle force soliciting the darts [live.
He drew them forth, and heal'd, and bade me

Book iii.

In him Demosthenes was heard again;
And freedom taught him her Athenian strain
She clothed him with authority and awe,
Spoke from his lips, and in his looks gave law.
His speech. his form, his action, full of grace,
And all his country beaming in his face,
He stood, as some inimitable hand
Would strive to make a Paul or Tully stand.
No sycophant or slave, that dared oppose
Her sacred cause, but trembled when he rose ;
And every venal stickler for the yoke
Felt himself' crushed at the first word he spoke.
Table Talk.

Sir Joshua Reynolds:

There, touch'd by Reynolds, a dull blank becomes
A lucid mirror, in which Nature sees
All her reflected features.

Bacon the sculptor:

Bacon there

The employment of his time, and design Gives more than female beauty to a stone, of his life and writings:

Me therefore studious of laborious ease,
Not slothful, happy to deceive the time,
Not waste it, and aware that human life
Is but a loan to be repaid with use,
When He shall call his debtors to account,
From whom are all our blessings; business finds
E'en here: while sedulous I seek t'improve,
At least neglect not, or leave unemploy'd
The mind he gave me; driving it, though slack
Too oft, and much impeded in its work
By causes not to be divulg'd in vain.
To its just point-the service of mankind.

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