TO JOHN JOHNSON, ESQ. Weston, March 23, 1790. Your MSS. arrived safe in New Norfolkstreet, and I am much obliged to you for your labors. Were you now at Weston, I ould furnish you with employment for some veeks, and shall perhaps be equally able to do it in summer, for I have lost my best amanuensis in this place, Mr. G. Throckmorton, who is gone to Bath. You are a man to be envied who have never read the Odyssey, which is one of the most amusing story-books in the world. There is also much of the finest poetry in the world to be found in it, notwithstanding all that Longinus has insinuated to the contrary. His comparison of the Iliad and Odyssey to the meridian and to the declining sun is pretty, but, I am persuaded, not just. The prettiness of it seduced him; he was otherwise too judicious a reader of Homer to made it. I can find in the latter no symptoms of impaired ability, none of the effects of age; on the contrary, it seems to me a certainty, that Homer, had he written the Odyssey in his youth, could not have written it better; and if the Iliad in his old age, that he would have written it just as well. A critic would tell me that, instead f written, I should have said composed. Very likely but I am not writing to one of that snarling generation. My boy, I lorg to see thee again. It has happened scme way or other, that Mrs. Unwin and I have conceived a great affection for thee. That I should is the less to be wondered (because thou art a shred of my own mother;) neither is the wonder great, that she should fall into the same predicament for she loves everything that I love. You will observe that your own personal right to be beloved makes no part of the consideration. There is nothing that I touch with so much tenderness as the vanity of a young man; because, I know how extremely susceptible he is of impressions that might hurt him in that particular part of his composition. If you should ever prove a coxcomb, from which character you stand just now at a greater distance than any young man I know, it shall never be said that I have made you one; no, you will gain nothing by me but the honor of being much valued by a poor poet, who can do you no good while he lives, and has nothing to leave you when he dies. If you can be contented to be dear to me on these conditions, so you shall; but other terms more advantageous than these, or more inviting, none have I to propose. *Longinus compares the Odyssey to the setting sun, and the Iliad, as more characteristic of the loftiness of Homer's genius, to the splendor of the rising sun. No man ever possessed a happier exemption, throughout life, from such a title. Farewell. Puzzle not yourself about a subject when you write to either of us: every thing is subject enough from those we love. W. C OHN JOHNSON, ESQ. Your letter, that now lies before me, is al most three weeks old, and therefore of ful age to receive an answer, which it shall have without delay, if the interval between the present moment and that of breakfast should prove sufficient for the purpose. Yours to Mrs. Unwin was received yesterday, for which she will thank you in due time. I have also seen, and have now in my desk, your letter to Lady Hesketh; she sent it thinking that it would divert me; in which she was not mistaken. I shall tell her when I write to her next, that you long to receive a line from her. Give yourself no trouble on the subject of the politic device you saw good to recur to, when you presented me with your manuscript;* it was an innocent deception, at least it could harm nobody save yourself; an effect which it did not fail to produce; and, since the punishment followed it so closely, by me at least it may very well be forgiven. You ask, how I can tell that you are not addicted to practices of the deceptive kind? And certainly, if the little time that I have had to study you were alone to be considered, the question would not be unreasonable; but in general a man who reaches my years finds "That long experience does attain To something like prophetic strain." I am very much of Lavater's opinion, and persuaded that faces are as legible as books, only with these circumstances to recommend them to our perusal, that they are read in much less time, and are much less likely to deceive us. Yours gave me a favorable impression of you the moment I beheld it, and, though I shall not tell you in particular what I saw in it, for reasons mentioned in my last, I will add, that I have observed in you nothing since that has not confirmed the opinion I then formed in your favor. In fact I cannot recollect that my skill in physiognomy has ever deceived me, and I should add more on this subject had I room. When you have shut up your mathematical books, you must give yourself to the study of Greek; not merely that you may be able to read Homer and the other Greek classics with ease, but the Greek Testament and the Greek fathers also. Thus qualified, and by the aid of you. fiddle into the bargain, together with some portion of the grace of God *The poem on Audley End, alluded to in a former letter to Lady Hesketh. (without which nothing can be done) to enable you to look well to your flock, when you shall get one, you will be set up for a parson. In which character, if I live to see you in it, I shall expect and hope that you will make a very different figure from most of your fraternity.* Ever yours, W. C. TO LADY HESKETH. The Lodge, April 19, 1790. My dearest Coz.,-I thank thee for my rousin Johnson's letter, which diverted me. I had one from him lately, in which he expressed an ardent desire of a line from you, and the delight he would feel in receiving it. I know not whether you will have the charity to satisfy his longings, but mention the matter, thinking it possible that you may. A letter from a lady to a youth immersed in mathematics must be singularly plessant. a I am finishing Homer backward, having begun at the last book, and designing to persevere in that crab-like fashion till I arrive at the first. This may remind you perhaps of certain poet's prisoner in the Bastille (thank Heaven! in the Bastille now no more) count. ing the nails in the door, for variety's sake, in all directions. I find so little to do in the last revisal, that I shall soon reach the Odyssey, and soon want those books of it which are in thy possession; but the two first of the Iliad, which are also in thy possession, Lach sooner thou mayst therefore send them by the first fair opportunity. I am in high spirits on this subject, and think that I have at last licked the clumsy cub into a shape that will secure to it the favorable notice of the public. Let not retard me, and I shall hope to get it out next winter. I am glad that thou hast sent the General those verses on my mother's picture. They will amuse him-only I hope that he will not miss my mother-in-law, and think that she ought to have made a third. On such an occasion it was not possible to mention her with any propriety. I rejoice at the General's recovery; may it prove a perfect one. W. C. TO LATY SKETH. Weston, April 30, 1790. To my old friend, Dr. Madan. thou couldst *Cowper is often very sarcastic upon the clergy. We rust that these censures are not so merited in these times of reviving piety. We subjoin the lines to which Cowper refers:- The studs, that thick en boss his iron door; Book V.-Winter Morning's Walk. not have spoken better than thou didst. Te him, I beseech you, that I have not forgotten him; tell him also, that to my heart and home he will be always welcome; nor he only, but all that are his. His judgment of my translation gave me the highest satisfac tion, because I know him to be a rare old Grecian. The General's approbation of my picture verses gave me also much pleasure. I wrote them not without tears, therefore I presume it may be that they are felt by others. Should he offer me my father's picture I shall gladly accept it. A melancholy pleasure is bette than none, nay, verily, better than most. He had a sad task imposed on him, but no man could acquit himself of such a one with more discretion or with more tenderness. The death of the unfortunate young man reminded me of those lines in Lycidas, "It was that fatal and perfidious bark, Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, That sunk so low that sacred head of thine!" How beautiful! W. C. TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.* The Lodge, May 2, 1790. My dear Friend,-I am still at the old sport-Homer all the morning, and Homer all the evening. Thus have I been held in constant employment, I know not exactly how many, but I believe these six years, an interval of eighth months excepted. It is now become so familiar to me to take Homer from my shelf at a certain hour, that I shall no doubt continue to take him from my shelf at the same time, even after I have ceased to want him. That period is not far distant. I am now giving the last touches to a work, which, had I foreseen the difficulty of it, Í should never have meddled with; but which, having at length nearly finished it to my mind, I shall discontinue with regret. My very best compliments attend Mrs. Hill, whom I love," unsight unseen," as they say, but yet truly. Yours ever, W. C. TO MRS. THROCKMORTON. My dear Mrs. Frog,t-You have by thir time (I presume) heard from the Doctor, whom I desired to present to you our best affections, and to tell you that we are weit. He sent an urchin, (I do not mean a hedge hog, commonly called an urchin in old times, but a boy, commonly so called at present.) expecting that he would find you at Buck * Private correspondence. + The sportive title generally bestowed by fowper un his amiable friends the Throckmortons. I cannot learn from any creature whether the Turnpike Bill is alive or dead-so ignorant am I, and by such ignoramuses surrounded. But, if I know little else, this at least I know, that I love you, and Mr. Frog; that I long for your return, and that I am, with Mrs. Unwin's best affections, Ever yours, W. C. TO LADY HESKETH. and's, whither he supposed you gone on Thursday. He sent him charged with divers articles, and among others with letters, or at least with a letter; which I mention, that, if the boy should be lost, together with his despatches, past all possibility of recovery, you may yet know that the Doctor stands acquitted of not writing. That he is utterly lost that is to say, the boy-for, the Doctor Weston, June 2, 1790. being the last antecedent, as the grammarians You will wonder, when I tell you, that I say, you might otherwise suppose that he even I, am considered by people, who live at was intended) is the more probable, because a great distance, as having interest and influJe was rever four miles from his home be-ence sufficient to procure a place at court, fore, having only travelled at the side of a for those who may happen to want one. I ough-team; and when the Doctor gave have accordingly been applied to within these him his direction to Buckland's,* he asked, few days by a Welchman, with wife and very naturally, if that place was in England. many children, to get him made Poet Laureat So, what has become of him Heaven knows! as fast as possible. If thou wouldst wish to I do not know that any adventures have make the world merry twice a year, thou presented themselves since your departure canst not do better than procure the office worth mentioning, except that the rabbit that for him. I will promise thee that he shall infested your wilderness has been shot for de- afford thee a hearty laugh in return every youring your carnations; and that I myself birth-day and every new year. He is an have been in some danger of being devoured honest man. W. C in like manner by a great dog, viz., Pearson's. But I wrote him a letter on Friday, (I mean a letter to Pearson, not to his dog, which I mention to prevent mistakes for the said last antecedent might occasion them in this place also,) informing him, that, unless he tied up his great mastiff in the day-time, I would send him a worse thing, commonly called and known by the name of an attorney. When I go forth to ramble in the fields, I do not sally (like Don Quixote) with a purpose of encountering monsters, if any such can be found; but am a peaceable, poor gentleman, and a poet, who mean nobody any harm, the fox-hunters and the two universities of this land excepted. Adieu! TO LADY HESKETH. am sure that thou, of all my friends, wouldst Ever thine-in Homer-hurry, *The residence of the Throckmorton family in Berkslire. W. C. The poet's kinsman, having consulted him on the subject of his future plans and studies, receives the following reply. The letter is striking, but admits of doubt as to the justness of some of its sentiments. You never pleased me more than when you told me you had abandoned your mathe The Lodge, May 28, 1790. My dearest Coz.,-I thank thee for thematical pursuits. It grieved me to think, that effer of thy best services on this occasion. you were wasting your time merely to gain But Heaven guard my brows from the wreath a little Cambridge fame, not worth your havyou mention, whatever wreath beside may ing. I cannot be contented, that your rehereafter adorn them! It would be a leaden nown should thrive nowhere but on the Extinguisher clapped on all the fire of my banks of the Cam. Conceive a nobler ambigenius, and I should never more produce a tion, and never let your honor be circumline worth reading. To speak seriously, it would make me miserable, and therefore I TO JOHN JOHNSON, ESQ. My dear John,-You know my engagements, and are consequently able to account for my silence. I will not therefore waste time and paper in mentioning them, but will only say, that, added to those with which you are acquainted, I have had other hindrances, to which I have been all my life subject. At such as business and a disorder of my spirits, present I am, thank God! perfectly well both mindful, whether I write or not, and very dein mind and body. Of you I am always sirous to see you. You will remember, 1 hope, that you are under engagements to us, and as soon as your Norfolk friends can spare you, will fulfil them. Give us all the time you can, and all that they can spare to us! *Lady Hesketh suggested the appointment of the office of Poet Laureat to Cowper, which had become vacant by the death of Warton in 1790. The pret declined the offer of her services, and Henry James Pye, Esq., was nominated the successor. scribed by the paltry dimensions of a university! It is well that you have already, as you observe, acquired sufficient information The divinity of the Reformation is callea Calvinism, but injuriously. It has been that of the church of Christ in all ages. It is the in that science to enable 1. to pass credita-divinity of St. Paul, and of St. Paul's Master, who met him in his way to Damascus. bly such examinations as I suppose you must hereafter undergo. Keep what you have gotten, and be content. More is needless.* I have written in great haste, that I might finish, if possible, before breakfast. Adieu! Let us see you soon; the sooner the better. Give my love to the silent lady, the Rose, and all my friends around you! W. C. You could not apply to a worse than I am to advise you concerning your studies. I was never a regular student myself, but lost the most valuable years of my life in an attorney's office and in the Temple. I will not therefore give myself airs, and affect to know what I know not. The affair is of great importance to you, and you should be directed in it by a wiser than I. To speak however in very general terms on the subject, it seems to me that your chief concern is with history, natural philosophy, logic, and divinity. As to metaphysics, I know little about them. But the very little that I do know has not taught me to admire them. Life is too short to afford time even for serious trifles. Pursue what you know to be attainable, make truth your object, and your studies will make you a wise man! Let your divinity, if I may advise, be the divinity of the glorious Reformation: I mean in contradiction to Arminianism, and all the isms that were ever broached in this world of error and ignorance. at the Bar. We have been To Cowper's strictures on the University of Cambridge, and his remark that the fame there acquired is not worth having, we by no means subscribe. We think no youth ought to be insensible to the honorable ambition of obtaining its distinctions, and that they are not unfrequently the precursors of subsequent eminence in informed that, out of fifteen judges recently on the bench, eleven had obtained honors at our two Universities. Whether the system of education is not susceptible of much improvement is a subject worthy of deep consideration. There seems to be a growing persuasion that, at the University of Cambridge, the mode of study is too exclusively mathematical; and that a more comprehensive plan, embracing the various departments of general knowledge and literature, would be an accession to the cause of learning. We admit that the University fully affords the means of acquiring this general information, but there is a penalty attached to the acquisition which operates as a prohibition, because the prospect of obtaining honors must, in that case, be renounced. By adopting a more comprehensive system, the stimulants The Lodge, June 8, 1790. to exertion would be multiplied, and the end of educa- love and esteem you, there is none who re My dear Friend,-Among the many who tion apparently more fully attained. moral horizon of Europe. When we reflect on the singular character of the pres-joices more in your felicity than myself. ent times, the instability of governments, and the disor- Far from blaming, I commend you much for ganized state of society, arising from conflicting principles and opinions, the question of education assumes a connecting yourself, young as you are, with momentous interest. We are firmly persuaded that, una well-chosen companion for life. Entering less the minds of youth be enlarged by useful knowledge, and fortified by right principles of religion, they will not on the state with uncontaminated morals, be fitted to sustain the duties and responsibilities that you have the best possible prospect of hapmust soon devolve upon them; nor will they be qualified to meet the storms that now threaten the political and piness, and will be secure against a thousand and ten thousand temptations to which, at an. early period of life, in such a Babylon as you must necessarily inhabit, you would otherwise have been exposed. I see it too in the light you do, as likely to be advantageous to you in your profession. Men of business have a better opinion of a candidate for employment, who is married, because he has given bond to the world, as you observe, and to himself, for diligence, industry, and atten Dr. Johnson, in enumerating the advantages resulting from a university education, specifies the following as calculated to operate powerfully on the mind of the stu dent. "There is at least one very powerful incentive to learn genious disposition creates to himself, by reflecting that ing; I mean the Genius of the place. It is a sort of inspiring Deity, which every youth of quick sensibility and he is placed under those venerable walls where a Hooker and a Hammond, a Bacon and a Newton, once pursued the same course of science, and from whence they soared to the most elevated heights of literary fame."-The Idler, No. 33. There is an impressive grandeur and sublimity in the concluding part of the above letter, which entitles it to be written in characters of gold. May it be engraven on the heart of every minister! The divinity of the glorious Reformation, as illustrated in the works of Cranmer, Jewel, Latimer, and Ridley, are in fact the essential doctrines of the gospel, as distinguished from a mere system of moral ethics. It is in proportion only as these great and fundamental truths are clearly understood, and fully, freely, and faithfully declared, that religion can acquire its holy ascendancy over the heart and practice. Moral preaching may produce an external reformation, but it is the gospel alone that can change the heart. The corruption and lost state of man, the mercy of God in Christ, the necessity of a living faith in the Saviour, the office of the Holy Spirit, in his enlightening, converting, and sanctifying influences;these are the grand themes of the Christian ministry. Whenever they are urged with the prominence that their incalculable importance demands, and accompanied by a divine influence, signal effects will never fail to follow. The careless will be roused, the lover of pleasure become the lover of God, and the oppressed heart find pardon and peace. TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. Meantime his steeds Snorted by Myrmidons detain'd, and loosed From their own master's chariot, foam'd to fly. You will easily guess to what they belong; and I mention the circumstance merely in proof of my perpetual engagement to Homer, whether at home or abroad; for, when I committed these lines to the back of your letter, I was rambling at a considerable distance from home. I set one foot on a molehill, placed my hat, with the crown upward, on my knee, laid your letter upon it, and with a pencil wrote the fragment that I have sent you. In the same posture I have written many and many a passage of a work which I hope soon to have done with. But all this is foreign to what I intended when I first took pen in hand. My purpose then was, to excuse my long silence as well as I could, by telling you that I am, at present, not only a laborer in verse, but in prose also, having been requested by a friend, to whom I could not refuse it, to translate for him a series of Latin letters, received from a Dutch minister of the Cape of Good Hope. With this additional occupation you will be sensi *This enigma is explained in a subsequent letter. Private correspondence. The Dutch minister here mentioned, was Mr. Van Lier, who recorded the remarkable account of the great piritual change produced in his mind, by reading the works of Mr. Newton. The letters were written in Latin, and translated by Cowper at the request of his clerical viena. ble that my hands are full; and it is a truth that, except to yourself, I would, just at this time, have written to nobody. I felt a true concern for what you told me in your last, respecting the ill state of health of your much-valued friend, Mr. Martyn You say, if I knew half his worth, I should, with you, wish his longer continuance below. Now you must understand, that, ignorant as I am of Mr. Martyn, except by your report of him, I do nevertheless sincerely wish it-and that, both for your sake and my own; nor less for the sake of the public.* For your sake, because you love and esteem him highly; for the sake of the public, because, should it please God to take him before he has completed his great botanical work, I suppose no other person will be able to finish it so well; and for my own sake, because I know he has a kind and favorable opinion beforehand of my transla tion, and, consequently, should it justify his prejudice when it appears, he will stand my friend against an army of Cambridge critics. It would have been strange indeed if self had not peeped out on this subject. I beg you will present my best respects to him, and assure him that, were it possible he could visit Weston, I should be most happy to receive him. Mrs. Unwin would have been employed in transcribing my rhymes for you, would her health have permitted; but it is very seldom that she can write without being much a sufferer by it. She has almost a constant pain in her side, which forbids it. As soon as it leaves her, or much abates, she will be glad to work for you. I am, like you and Mr. King, an admirer of clouds, but only when there are blue intervals, and pretty wide ones too, between them. One cloud is too much for me, but a hundred are not too many. So with this riddle and with my best respects to Mr. King, to which I add Mrs. Unwin's to you both,-I remain, my dear madam, Truly yours, W. C. TO LADY HESKETH. The Lodge, June 17, 1790. My dear Coz.,-Here am I, at eight in the morning, in full dress, going a-visiting to Chiche y. We are a strong party, and fill two chaises; Mrs. F. the elder, and Mrs. G. in one; Mrs. F. the younger, and myself in another. Were it not that I shall find Chesters at the end of my journey, I should ha inconsolable. That expectation alone supports my spirits: and, even with this pros * Professor Martyn lived to an advanced old age, en deared to his family, respected and esteemed by the pub lic, and supported in his last moments by the consols tions and liopes of the gospel. |