TO JOHN JOHNSON, ESQ.
Weston, Oct. 19, 1792.

My dearest Johnny,-You are too useful when you are here not to be missed on a hundred occasions daily; and too much domesticated with us not to be regretted always. I hope, therefore, that your month or six weeks will not be like many that I have known, capable of being drawn out into any length whatever, and productive of nothing but disappointment.

I have done nothing since you went, except that I have composed the better half of a sonnet to Romney; yet even this ought to bear an earlier date, for I began to be haunted with a desire to do it long before we came out of Sussex, and have daily attempted it

ever since.

It would be well for the reading part of the world, if the writing part were, many of them, as dull as I am. Yet even this small produce, which my sterile intellect has hardly yielded at last, may serve to convince you that in point of spirits I am not worse.

In fact, I am a little better. The powders and the laudanum together have, for the present at least, abated the fever that consumes them; and in measure as the fever abates, I acquire a less discouraging view of things, and with it a little power to exert myself.

In the evenings I read Baker's Chronicle to Mrs. Unwin, having no other history, and hope in time to be as well versed in it as his admirer, Sir Roger de Coverley.

W. C.

TO JOHN JOHNSON, ESQ. Weston, Oct. 22, 1792. My dear Johnny,-Here I am, with I know not how many letters to answer, and no time to do it in. I exhort you, therefore, to set a proper value on this, as proving your priority in my attentions, though in other respects ikely to be of little value.

You do well to sit for your picture, and give very sufficient reasons for doing it; you will also, I doubt not, take care that when future generations shall look at it, some spectator or other shall say, this is the picture of a good man and a useful one.

And now God bless you my dear Johnny. I proceed much after the old rate; rising cheerless and distressed in the morning, and brightening a little as the day goes on. A heu, W. C.

TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. Weston, Oct. 28, 1792. Nothing done, my dearest brother, nor likely to be done at present; yet I purpose in a day or two to make another attempt, to

which, however, I shall address myself with fear and trembling, like a man who, having sprained his wrist, dreads to use it. I have not, indeed, like such a man, injured myself by any extraordinary exertion, but seem as much enfeebled as if I had. The consciousness that there is so much to do, and nothing done, is a burden I am not able to bear. Milton especially is my grievance, and I might almost as well be haunted by his ghost as goaded with continual reproaches for neg lecting him. I will therefore begin: I will do my best; and if, after all, that best prove good for nothing, I will even send the notes, worthless as they are, that I have made already; a measure very disagreeable to my self, and to which nothing but necessity shall compel me. I shall rejoice to see those new samples of your biography,* which you give me to expect.

Allons! Courage! Here comes something, however; produced after a gestation as long as that of a pregnant woman. It is the debt long unpaid, the compliment due to Romney; and if it has your approbation, I will send it, or you may send it for me. I must premise, however, that I intended nothing less than a sonnet when I began. I know not why, but I said to myself, it shall not be a sonnet; accordingly I attempted it in one sort of measure, then in a second, then in a third, till I had made the trial in half a dozen different kinds of shorter verse, and behold it is a sonnet at last. The fates would have it so.

TO GEORGE ROMNEY, ESQ. Romney! expert infallibly to trace, On chart or canvas, not the form alone, And semblance, but, however faintly shown, The mind's impression too on every face, With strokes, that time ought never to erase: The subject worthless, I have never known Thou hast so pencill'd mine, that though I own The artist shining with superior grace.

But this I mark, that symptoms none of woe,
In thy incomparable work appear:
Well! I am satisfied it should be so,
Since, on maturer thought the cause is clear;
For in my looks what sorrow couldst thou see,
While I was Hayley's guest, and sat to thee?
W. C.

TO JOHN JOHNSON, ESQ.†
Nov. 5, 1792,

My dearest Johnny,-I have done nothing since you went, except that I have finished the Sonnet which I told you I had begun, and sent it to Hayley, who is well pleased therewith, and has by this time transmitted it to whom it most concerns.

*Hayley's Life of Milton. † Private correspondence

I would not give the algebraist sixpence for his encomiums on my Task, if he condemns my Homer, which, I know, in point of language, is equal to it, and in variety of numbers superior. But the character of the former having been some years established, he follows the general cry; and should Homer establish himself as well, and I trust he will hereafter, I shall have his warm suffrage for that also. But if not-it is no matter. Swift says somewhere,-There are a few good judges of poetry in the world, who lend their taste to those who have none: and your man of figures is probably one of the borrowers.

Adieu-in great haste. Our united love attends yourself and yours, whose I am most truly and affectionately.

W. C.

TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ.

Weston, Nov. 9, 1792.

My dear Friend, I wish that I were as industrious and as much occupied as you, though in a different way; but it is not so with me. Mrs. Unwin's great debility (who is not yet able to move without assistance) is of itself a hindrance such as would effectually disable me. Till she can work, and read, and fill up her time as usual (all which is at present entirely out of her power) I may now and then find time to write a letter, but I shall write nothing more. I cannot sit with my pen in my hand and my books before me, while she is in effect in solitude, silent, and looking at the fire. To this hindrance that other has been added, of which you are already aware, a want of spirits, such as I have never known, when I was not absolutely laid by, since I commenced an author. How long I shall be continued in these uncomfortable circumstances is known only to Him who, as he will, disposes of us all. I may be yet able, perhaps, to prepare the first book of the Paradise Lost for the press, before it will be wanted; and Johnson himself seems to think there will be no haste for the second. But poetry is my favorite employment, and all my poetical operations are in the meantime suspended; for, while a work to which I have bound myself remains unaccomplished, I can do nothing else.

Johnson's plan of prefixing my phiz to the new edition of my poems is by no means a pleasant one to me, and so I told him in a letter I sent him from Eartham, in which I assured him that my objections to it would not be easily surmounted. But if you judge that it may really have an effect in advancing the sale, I would not be so squeamish as to suffer the spirit of prudery to prevail in me to his disadvantage. Somebody told an author, I forget whom, that there was more

vanity in refusing his picture than in grant. ing it, on which he instantly complied. I do not perfectly feel all the force of the argu ment, but it shall content me that he did."

I do most sincerely rejoice in the success of your publication,* and have no doubt that my prophecy concerning your success in greater matters will be fulfilled. We are naturally pleased when our friends approve what we approve ourselves; how much then must I be pleased, when you speak so kindly of Johnny! I know him to be all that you think him, and love him entirely.

Adieu! We expect you at Christmas, and shall therefore rejoice when Christmas comes. Let nothing interfere. Ever yours, W. C.

TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON.† Nov. 11, 1792. My dear Friend, I am not so insensible of your kindness in making me an exception from the number of your correspondents, to whom you forbid the hope of hearing from you till your present labors are ended, as to make you wait longer for an answer to your last; which, indeed, would have had its answer before this time, had it been possible for me to write. But so many have demands upon me of a similar kind, and while Mrs. Unwin continues an invalid, my opportunities of writing are so few, that I am constrained to incur a long arrear to some, with whom I would wish to be punctual. She can at present neither work nor read; and, till she can do both, and amuse herself as usual, my own amusements of the pen must be suspended.

I, like you, have a work before me, and a work to which I should be glad to address myself in earnest, but cannot do it at present. When the opportunity comes, I shall, like you, be under a necessity of interdicting some of my usual correspondents, and of shortening my letters to the excepted few. Many letters and much company are incompatible with authorship, and the one as much as the other. It will be long, I hope, before the world is put in possession of a publication, which you design should be posthumous.

Oh for the day when your expectations of my complete deliverance shall be verified! At present it seems very remote: so distant, indeed, that hardly the faintest streak of it is visible in my horizon. The glimpse, with which I was favored about a month since, has never been repeated; and the depression of my spirits has. The future appears gloomy as ever; and I seem to myself to be scram bling always in the dark, among rocks and precipices, without a guide, but with an enemy ever at my heels, prepared to push

* Decisions of the English Courts. † Private correspondence.

from him, and having little or no sensible support from God, I suffer inexpressible things till January is over. And even then, whether increasing years have made me more liable to it, or despair, the longer it lasts, grows naturally darker, I find myself more inclined to melancholy than I was a few years since. God only knows where this will end; but where it is likely to end, unless he interpose powerfully in my favor, all may know.

I remain. my dear friend, most sincerely W. C.

yours,

TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.

Weston, Dec. 16, 1792.

My dear Sir,-We differ so little, that it is pity we should not agree. The possibility of restoring our diseased government is, I think, the only point on which we are not of one mind. If you are right, and it cannot be touched in the medical way, without danger of absolute ruin to the constitution, keep the doctors at a distance say I-and let us live as long as we can. But perhaps physicians might be found of skill sufficient for the purpose, were they but as willing as able. Who are they? Not those honest blunderers, the mob, but our governors themselves. As it is in the power of any individual to be honest if he will, any body of men are, as it seems to me, equally possessed of the same option. For I can never persuade myself to think the world so constituted by the Author of it, and human society, which is his ordinance, so shabby a business, that the buying and selling of votes and consciences should be essential to its existence. As to multiplied representation I know not that I foresee any great advantage likely to arise from that. Provided there be but a reasonable number of reasonable heads laid together for the good of the nation, the end may as well be answered by five hundred as it would be by a thousand, and perhaps better. But then they should be honest as well as wise, and, in order that they may be so, they should put it out of their own power to be otherwise. This they might certainly do if they would; and, would they do it, I am not convinced that any great mischief would ensue. You say, "somebody must have influence," but I see no necessity for it. Let integrity of intention and a due share of ability be supposed, and the influence will be in the -ight place; it will all centre in the zeal and good of the nation. That will influence their debates and decisions, and nothing else ought to do it. You will say, perhaps, that wise tuen, and honest men, as they are supposed, they are yet liable to be split into almost as many differences of opinion as there are individuals; but I rather think not. It is

served of Prince Eugene and the Duke of Marlborough, that each always approved and seconded the plans and views of the other and the reason given for it is that they were men of equal ability. The same cause that could make two unanimous would make twenty so, and would at least secure a majority among as many hundreds.

As to the reformation of the church, I want none, unless by a better provision for the inferior clergy; and, if that could be brought about by emaciating a little some of our too corpulent dignitaries, I should be well contented.

The dissenters, I think, Catholics and others, have all a right to the privileges of all other Englishmen, because to deprive them is persecution, and persecution on any account, but especially on a religious one, is an abomination. But after all, valeat respublica. I love my country, I love my king and I wish peace and prosperity to Old England.* Adieu! W. C.

TO THOMAS PARK, ESQ. Weston-Underwood, Dec. 17, 1792. My dear Sir,-You are very kind in thinking it worth while to inquire after so irregular a correspondent. When I had read your last, I persuaded myself that I had answered your obliging letter received while I was at Eartham, and seemed clearly to remember it; but upon better recollection, am inclined to think myself mistaken, and that I have many pardons to ask for neglecting to do it so long.

While I was at Mr. Hayley's I could hardly find opportunity to write to anybody. He is an early riser and breakfasts early, and unless I could rise early enough myself to despatch a letter before breakfast, I had no leisure to do it at all. For immediately after breakfast we repaired to the library, where we studied in concert till noon; and the rest of my time was so occupied by necessary attention to my poor invalid, Mrs. Unwin, and by various other engagements, that to write was impossible.

Since my return. I have been almost constantly afflicted with weak and inflamed eyes, and indeed have wanted spirits as well as leisure. If you can, therefore, you must pardon me; and you will do it perhaps the rather, when I assure you that not you alone, but every person and every thing that had demands upon me has been equally neglected. A strange weariness that has long had dominion over me has indisposed and indeed disqualified me for all employment;* and my hindrances besides have been such that I am sadly in arrear in all quarters. A thousand times I have been sorry and ashamed that your MSS. are yet unrevised, and if you knew the compunction that it has cost me, you would pity me; for I feel as if I were guilty in that particular, though my conscience tells me that it could not be otherwise.

Before I received your letter written from Margate, I had formed a resolution never to be engraven, and was confirmed in it by my friend Hayley's example. But, learning since though I have not learned it from himself, that my bookseller has an intention to prefix a copy of Abbot's picture of met to the next edition of my poems, at his own expense,

if

* This expression alludes to the nervous fever and great depression of spirits that Cowper labored under, in the months of October and November, and which has been frequently mentioned in the preceding correspond

ence.

†There were three portraits of Cowper, taken respect ively by Sir Thomas Lawrence, Abbot, and Romney. The reader may be anxious to learn which is entitled to be considered the best resemblance. The editor is able

to satisfy this inquiry, on the joint authority of the three most competent witnesses, the late Rev. Dr. Johnson, the present Dowager Lady Throckmorton, and John Higgins, Esq., formerly of Weston. They all agree in assigning the superiority to the portrait by Abbot; and in evidence of this, all have repeated the anecdote mentioned by Cowper, of his dog Beau going up to the picture, and shaking his tail, in token of recognition. It is an exact resemblance of his form, features, manner, and costume. That by Romney was said to resemble him at the moment it was taken, but it was his then look, not his customary

and more placid features. There is an air of wildness in it, expressive of a disordered mind, and which the shock, produced by the paralytic attack of Mrs. Unwin, was

rapidly impressing on his countenance. This portrait has always been considered as awakening distressing emotions in the beholder. The portrait by Sir Thomas Lawrence is the most pleasing, but not so exact and faithful a resemblance. There is however a character of peculiar interest in it, and he is represented in the cap which he was accustomed to wear in a morning, presented to him by Lady Hesketh. It was on this picture that the following beautiful lines were composed by the late Rev. Dr. Randolph.

ON SEEING A SKETCH OF COWPER BY LAWRENCE. Sweet bard! whose mind, thus pictured in thy face, O'er every feature spreads a nobler grace; Whose keen, but softened eye appears to dart A look of pity through the human heart; To search the secrets of man's inward frame, To weep with sorrow o'er his guilt and shame; Sweet bard! with whom, in sympathy of choice, I've ofttimes left the world at Nature's voice, To join the song that all her creatures raise, To carol forth their great Creator's praise; Or, 'rapt in visions of immortal day, Have gazed on Truth in Zion's heavenly way; Sweet Bard!-may this thine image, all I know, Or ever may, of Cowper's form below, Teach one who views it with a Christian's love, To seek and find thee, in the realms above.

I can be prevailed upon, to consent to it; ir consideration of the liberality of his beha vior, I have felt my determination shaken. This intelligence, however comes to me from a third person, and till it reaches me in a di rect line from Johnson, I can say nothing to him about it. When he shall open to me his intentions himself, I will not be backward to mention to him your obliging offer, and shall be particularly gratified, if I must be engraved at last, to have that service performed for me by a friend.

I thank you for the anecdote,* which could not fail to be very pleasant, and remain, my dear sir, with gratitude and affection, Yours, W. C.

TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. Weston, Dec. 26, 1792. alarms you, I snatch a moment to tell you, That I may not be silent, till my silence that although toujours triste I am not worse than usual, but my opportunities of writing have dared to say, and the few that I have are are paucified, as, perhaps, Dr. Johnson would shortened by company.

Give my love to dear Tom, and thank him for his very apposite extract, which I should be happy indeed to turn to any account. How often do I wish, in the course of every day, that I could be employed once more in poetry, and how often, of course, that this Miltonic trap had never caught me! The year ninetytwo shall stand chronicled in my remembrance as the most melancholy that I have ever known, except the few weeks that I spent at Eartham; and such it has been principally because, being engaged to Milton, I felt myself no longer free for any other engagement. That ill-fated work, impracticable in itself, has made everything else impracticable.

... I am very Pindaric, and obliged to be so by the hurry of the hour. My friends are come down to breakfast.

Adieu! W. C.

TO THOMAS PARK, ESQ. Weston-Underwood, Jan. 3, 1798. My dear Sir,-A few lines must serve to introduce to you my much-valued friend Mr. Rose, and to thank you for your very obliging attention in sending me so approved a remedy for my disorder. It is no fault of yours, but it will be a disappointment to you to know, that I have long been in possession of that remedy, and have tried it without effect; or,

*The Hon. Mrs. Boscawen had expressed her regre that Cowper should employ his time and talents in trans lation, instead of original composition; accompanied by a wish that he would produce another "Task," adverting to what Pope had made his friend exclaim,

"Do write next winter more Essays on Man.'"

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