My paper mourns, and my seal. It is for the death of a venerable uncle, Ashley Cowper, at the age of eighty-seven. TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. Weston, June 23, 1788. winter also. The summer indeed is leaving us at a rapid rate, as do all the seasons, and though I have marked their flight so often, I know not which is the sweetest. Man is never so deluded as when he dreams of his own duration. The answer of the old Patriarch to Pharaoh may be adopted by every man at the close of the longest life-" Few and evil have been the days of the WHEN I tell you that an unanswered latter years of my pilgrimage." Whether we look back troubles my conscience in some degree like a crime, from fifty, or from twice fifty, the past appears you will think me endued with most heroic pa- equally a dream; and we can only be said truly tience, who have so long submitted to that trouble to have lived, while we have been profitably emon account of yours not answered yet. But the ployed. Alas, then! making the necessary deductruth is, that I have been much engaged. Homer tions, how short is life! Were men in general to (you know) affords me constant employment; be- save themselves all the steps they take to no pursides which I have rather what may be called, con- pose, or to a bad one, what numbers, who are now sidering the privacy in which I have long lived, a active, would become sedentary! numerous correspondence; to one of my friends in Thus I have sermonized through my paper. particular, a near and much-loved relation, I write Living where you live, you can bear with me the weekly, and sometimes twice in the week; nor better. I always follow the leading of my unconare these my only excuses; the sudden changes strained thoughts, when I write to a friend, be they of the weather have much affected me, and espe- grave or otherwise. Homer reminds me of you cially with a disorder most unfavourable to letter- every day. I am now in the twenty-first Iliad. writing, an inflammation in my eyes. With all Adieu. W. C. these apologies I approach you once more, not altogether despairing of forgiveness. TO LADY HESKETH. It has pleased God to give us rain, without which this part of our country at least must soon have become a desert. The meadows have been The Lodge, June 27, 1788. parched to a January brown, and we have fod- FOR the sake of a longer visit, my dearest coz, dered our cattle for some time, as in the winter. I can be well content to wait. The country, this The goodness and power of God are never (I be- country at least, is pleasant at all times, and when lieve) so universally acknowledged as at the end winter is come, or near at hand, we shall have the of a long drought. Man is naturally a self-suffi- better chance for being snug. I know your pascient animal, and in all concerns that seem to lie sion for retirement indeed, or for what we call within the sphere of his own ability, thinks little deedy retirement, and the F- -s intending to reor not at all of the need he always has of protec- turn to Bath with their mother, when her visit at tion and furtherance from above. But he is sen- the Hall is over, you will then find here exactly sible that the clouds will not assemble at his bid- the retirement in question. I have made in the ding, and that, though the clouds assemble, they orchard the best winter-walk in all the parish, will not fall in showers because he commands sheltered from the east, and from the north-east, them. When therefore at last the blessing de-and open to the sun, except at his rising, all the scends, you shall hear even in the streets the most day. Then we will have Homer and Don Quix irreligious and thoughtless with one voice ex- ote: and then we will have saunter and chat, and claim-"Thank God!"--confessing themselves in-one laugh more before we die. Our orchard. is debted to his favour, and willing, at least so far as alive with creatures of all kinds: poultry of every words go, to give him the glory. I can hardly denomination swarms in it, and pigs, the drollest doubt therefore that the earth is sometimes parched, in the world! and the crops endangered, in order that the multitude may not want a memento to whom they owe them, nor absolutely forget the power on which all depend for all things. I rejoice that we have a cousin Charles also, as well as a cousin Henry, who has had the address to win the good-likings of the Chancellor. May he fare the better for it! As to myself, I have long Our solitary part of the year is over. Mrs. Un- since ceased to have any expectations from that win's daughter, and son-in-law have lately spent quarter. Yet, if he were indeed mortified as you some time with us. We shall shortly receive from say (and no doubt you have particular reasons tor London our old friends the Newtons. (he was once thinking so,) and repented to that degree of his minister of Olney); and, when they leave us, we hasty exertions in favour of the present occupant, expect that Lady Hesketh will succeed them, per- who can tell? he wants neither means nor manhaps to spend the summer here, and possibly the agement, but can easily at some future period re dress the evil, if he chooses to do it. But in the walks and my pastime in whatever quarter of your mean time life steals away, and shortly neither he paradise it should please me the most to visit. We will be in circumstances to do me a kindness, nor also, as you know, have scenes at Weston worthy I to receive one at his hands. Let him make haste, of description; but because you know them well, therefore, or he will die a promise in my debt, I will only say that one of them has, within these which he will never be able to perform. Your few days, been much improved; I mean the lime communications on this subject are as safe as you walk. By the help of the axe and the woodbill, can wish them. We divulge nothing but what which have of late been constantly employed in might appear in the magazine, nor that without cutting out all straggling branches that interceptgreat consideration. ed the arch, Mr. Throckmorton has now defined I must tell you a feat of my dog Beau. Walk-it with such exactness, that no cathedral in the ing by the river side, I observed some water-lilies world can show one of more magnificence or beaufloating at a little distance from the bank. They ty. I bless myself that I live so near it; for were are a large white flower, with an orange coloured it distant several miles, it would be well worth eye, very beautiful. I had a desire to gather one, while to visit it, merely as an object of taste; not and, having your long cane in my hand, by the to mention the refreshment of such a gloom both help of it endeavoured to bring one of them with- to the eyes and spirits. And these are the things in my reach. But the attempt proved vain, and I which our modern improvers of parks and pleasure walked forward. Beau had all the while observed grounds have displaced without mercy; because, me very attentively. Returning soon after toward the forsooth, they are rectilinear. It is a wonder they same place, I observed him plunge into the river, do not quarrel with the sunbeams for the same while I was about forty yards distant from him; reason. and when I had nearly reached the spot, he swam to land with a lily in his mouth, which he came and laid at my foot. Have you seen the account of five hundred celebrated authors now living? I am one of them; but stand charged with the high crime and misdeMr. Rose, whom I have mentioned to you as a meanour of totally neglecting method; an accusavisiter of mine for the first time soon after you left tion which, if the gentleman would take the pains us, writes me word that he has seen my ballads to read me, he would find sufficiently refuted. I against the slave-mongers, but not in print. Where am conscious at least myself of having laboured he met with them, I know not. Mr. Bull begged much in the arrangement of my matter, and of hard for leave to print them at Newport-Pagnel, having given to the several parts of my book of and I refused, thinking that it would be wrong to the Task, as well as to each poem in the first voanticipate the nobility, gentry, and others, at whose lume, that sort of slight connexion, which poetry pressing instance I composed them, in their design demands; for in poetry, (except professedly of the to print them. But perhaps I need not have been didactic kind) a logical precision would be stiff, so squeamish; for the opportunity to publish them pedantic, and ridiculous. But there is no pleasing in London seems now not only ripe, but rotten. I some critics; the comfort is, that I am contented, am well content. There is but one of them with whether they be pleased or not. At the same which I am myself satisfied, though I have heard time, to my honour be it spoken, the chronicler of them all well spoken of. But there are very few us five hundred prodigies bestows on me, for aught things of my own composition, that I can endure I know, more commendations than on any other to read, when they have been written a month, of my confraternity. May he live to write the though at first they seem to me to be all perfection. histories of as many thousand poets, and find me Mrs. Unwin, who has been much the happier the very best among them; Amen! since the time of your return hither has been in some sort settled, begs me to make her kindest remembrance. Yours, my dear, most truly, W. C. TO LADY HESKETH. I I join with you, my dearest coz, in wishing that owned the fee simple of all the beautiful scenes around you, but such emoluments were never designed for poets. Am I not happier than ever poet was, in having thee for my cousin, and in the expectation of thy arrival here whenever Strawberry-hill shall lose thee? Ever thine, W. C. TO LADY HESKETH. The Lodge, July 28, 1788. Ir is in vain that you tell me you have no talent at description, while in fact you describe better than any body. You have given me a most complete idea of your mansion and its situation; and I doubt not that with your letter in my hand by way of map, could I be set down on the spot in a us I believe until the 15th of the month. Here is moment, I should find myself qualified to take my also my friend Mr. Rose, a valuable young man, The Lodge, August 9, 1788. THE Newtons are still here, and continue with Consule quid valeant plantæ, quid ferre recusent. who, attracted by the effluvia of my genius, found that good advice shall reach you: but be it hot, or me out in my retirement last January twelvemonth. be it cold, to a man that travels as you travel, take I have not permitted him to be idle, but have made care of yourself, can never be an unseasonable him transcribe for me the twelfth book of the Iliad. caution. I am sometimes distressed on this acHe brings me the compliments of several of the count; for though you are young, and well made literati, with whom he is acquainted in town, and for such exploits, those very circumstances are tells me, that from Dr. Maclain, whom he saw more likely than any thing to betray you into danlately, he learns that my book is in the hands of ger, sixty different persons at the Hague, who are all enchanted with it, not forgetting the said Dr. Mac tain himself, who tells him that he reads it every The Newtons left us on Friday. We frequent day, and is always the better for it. O rare we! ly talked about you after your departure, and every I have been employed this morning in compos- thing that was spoken was to your advantage. I ing a Latin motto for the king's clock; the embel- know they will be glad to see you in London, and lishments of which are by Mr. Bacon. That perhaps when your summer and autumn rambles gentleman breakfasted with us on Wednesday, are over, you will afford them that pleasure. The naving come thirty-seven miles out of his way Throckmortons are equally well disposed to you, on purpose to see your cousin. At his request I and them also I recommend to you as a valuable have done it, and have made two; he will choose connexion, the rather because you can only cultithat which liketh him best. Mr. Bacon is a most vate it at Weston. excellent man, and a most agreeable companion: I would that he lived not so remote, or that he had more opportunity of traveling. I have not been idle since you went, having not only laboured as usual at the Iliad, but composed a spick and span new piece, called "The Dog There is not, so far as I know, a syllable of the and the Water-Lily," which you shall see when rhyming - correspondence between me and my we meet again. I believe I related to you the in poor brother left, save and except the six lines of cident which is the subject of it. I have also read t quoted in yours. I had the whole of it, but most of Lavater's Aphorisms; they appear to me it perished in the wreck of a thousand other things, some of them wise, many of them whimsical, a when I left the Temple. Breakfast calls. Adieu! few of them false, and not a few of them extravaW. C. gant. Nil illi medium. If he finds in a man the feature or quality that he approves, he deifies him; if the contrary, he is a devil. His verdict is in neither case, I suppose, a just one. W.C. TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ: TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. MY DEAR FRIEND, MY DEAR FRIEND, Weston, Aug. 18, 1788. I LEFT you with a sensible regret, alleviated only by the consideration that I shall see you again in October. I was under some concern also, lest, Weston, Sept. 11, 1788. not being able to give you any certain directions SINCE your departure I have twice visited the nor knowing where you might find a guide, you oak, and with my intention to push my inquiries should wander and fatigue yourself, good walker a mile beyond it, where it seems I should have as you are, before you could reach Northampton found another oak, much larger, and much more Perhaps you heard me whistle just after our sepa respectable than the former, but once I was hinration; it was to call back Beau, who was run dered by the rain, and once by the sultriness of ning after you with all speed, to intreat you to re the day. This latter oak has been known by the turn with me. For my part, I took my own time name of Judith many ages, and is said to have to return, and did not reach home till after one; been an oak at the time of the conquest. If í and then so weary, that I was glad of my great have not an opportunity to reach it before your archair, to the comforts of which I added a crust rival here, we will attempt that exploit together: and a glass of rum and water, not without great and even if I should have been able to visit it ere occasion. Such a foot-traveller am I. you come, I shall yet be glad to do so; for the I am writing on Monday, but whether I shall pleasure of extraordinary sights, like all other finish my letter this morning depends on Mrs. pleasures, is doubled by the participation of a Unwin's coming sooner or later down to breakfast. friend.、 Something tells me that you set off to-day for Bir- You wish for a copy of my little dog's eulo mingham; and though it be a sort of Iricism to gium, which I will therefore transcribe: but bv say here, I beseech you take care of yourself, for so doing, I shall leave myself but scanty room for the day threatens great heat, I can not help it; the prose. weather may be cold enough at the time when I shall be sorry if our neighbours at the hall W. C. should have left it, when we have the pleasure of Weston has not been without its tragedies since seeing you. I want you to see them soon again, you left us; Mrs. Throckmorton's piping bull-finch that a little consuetudo may wear off restraint; has been eaten by a rat, and the villain left nothing and you may be able to improve the advantage you but poor Bully's beak behind him. It will be a have already gained in that quarter. I pitied you wonder if this event does not, at some convenient for the fears which deprived you of your uncle's com-time, employ my versifying passion. Did ever pany, and the more having suffered so much by fair lady, from the Lesbia of Catullus to the prethose fears myself. Fight against that vicious fear, sent day, lose her bird and find no poet to comfor such it is, as strenuously as you can. It is the memorate the loss? worst enemy that can attack a man destined to the forum-it ruined me. To associate as much as possible with the most respectable company, for good sense and good breeding, is, I believe, the only, at least I am sure it is the best remedy. The society of men of pleasure will not cure it, but rather leaves us more exposed to its influence in company of better persons. Now for the Dog and the Water-Lily.* TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. MY DEAR FRIEND, W. C. Weston, Sept. 25, 1787. Say what is the thing by my Riddle design'd I EXPECT your answer and without a fee.-The half hour next before breakfast I devote to you. The moment Mrs. Unwin arrives in the study, be what I have written much or little, I shall make my bow, and take leave. If you live to be a judge, as if I augur right you will, I shall expect to hear of a walking circuit. TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. MY DEAR FRIEND, Weston, Nov. 30, 1788. YOUR letter, accompanying the books with which you have favoured me, and for which I return you a thousand thanks, did not arrive till yesterday. I shall have great pleasure in taking now and then a peep at my old friend Vincent Bourne; the neatest of all men in his versification, though when I was under his ushership, at Westminster, the most slovenly in his person. He was so in attentive to his boys, and so indifferent whether they brought him good or bad exercises, or none at all, that he seemed determined, as he was the best, so to be the last Latin poet of the Westminster line; a plot which, I believe, he executed very successfully; for I have not heard of any who has at all deserved to be compared with him. We have had hardly any rain or snow since you left us; the roads are accordingly as dry as in the middle of summer, and the opportunity of walking much more favourable. We have no season in my mind so pleasant as such a winter: I was shocked at what you tell me of and I account it particularly fortunate that such Superior talents, it seems, give no security for pro- it proves, my cousin being with us. She is in priety of conduct; on the contrary, having a nat- good health, and cheerful, so are we all; and this ural tendency to nourish pride, they often betray I say, knowing you will be glad to hear it, for you the possessor into such mistakes, as men more have seen the time when this could not be said of moderately gifted never commit. Ability there- all your friends at Weston. We shall rejoice to fore is not wisdom, and an ounce of grace is a bet-see you here at Christmas; but I recollected when ter guard against gross absurdity than the bright- I hinted such an excursion by word of mouth, you est talents in the world. gave me no great encouragement to expect you. I rejoice that you are prepared for transcript Minds alter, and yours may be of the number of work: here will be plenty for you. The day on those that do so; and if it should, you will be enwhich you shall receive this, I beg you will re-tirely welcome to us all. Were there no other member to drink one glass at least to the success reason for your coming than merely the pleasure of the Iliad, which I finished the day before yes it will afford to us, that reason alone would be terday, and yesterday began the Odyssey. It will sufficient; but after so many toils, and with so be some time before I shall perceive myself travel- many more in prospect, it seems essential to your ing in another road; the objects around me are well-being that you should allow yourself a respite, at present so much the same; Olympus, and a which perhaps you can take as comfortably (I am council of gods, meet me at my first entrance. To sure as quietly) here as any where. tell you the truth, I am weary of heroes and deities, and, with reverence be it spoken, shall be glad for variety's sake, to exchange their company for that of a Cyclops. *Cowper's Poems. The ladies beg to be remembered to you with all possible esteem and regard; they are just come down to breakfast, and being at this moment extremely talkative, oblige me to put an end to my letter. Adieu. W. C. TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. Weston-Underwood, Dec, 2, 1788. MY DEAR FRIEND, TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. MY DEAR SIR, The Lodge, Jan. 19, 1789. I HAVE taken, since you went away, many of I TOLD you lately that I had an ambition to in- the walks which we have taken together; and troduce to your acquaintance my valuable friend, none of them, I believe, without thoughts of you. Mr. Rose. He is now before you. You will find I have, though not a good memory, in general, him a person of genteel manners and agreeable yet a good local memory, and can recollect, by conversation. As to his other virtues and good the help of a tree or a știle, what you said on that qualities, which are many, and not often found in particular spot. For this reason I purpose, when men of his years, I consign them over to your own discernment, perfectly sure that none will escape I give you joy of each other, and remain, my dear old friend, most truly yours, W. C. you. TO ROBERT SMITH, ESQ. Weston-Underwood, Dec. 20, 1788. MY DEAR SIR, the summer is come, to walk with a book in my pocket; what I read at my fireside I forget, but what I read under a hedge, or at the side of a pond, that pond and that hedge will always bring to my remembrance; and this is a sort of memoria technica, which I would recommend to you if I did not know that you have no occasion for it. I am reading Sir John Hawkins, and still hold the same opinion of his book, as when you were here. There are in it, undoubtedly, some awkwardnesses of phrase, and, which is worse, here MRS. UNWIN is in tolerable health, and adds and there some unequivocal indications of a vanity her warmest thanks to mine for your favour, and not easily pardonable in a man of his years; but for your obliging inquiries. My own health is on the whole I find it amusing, and to me at least, better than it has been for many years. Long to whom every thing that has passed in the litetime I had a stomach that would digest nothing, rary world within these five-and-twenty years is and now nothing disagrees with it; an amend new, sufficiently replete with information. Mr. ment for which I am, under God, indebted to the Throckmorton told me about three days since, that it was lately recommended to him by a sendaily use of soluble tartar, which I have never sible omitted these two years. I am still, as you may man, as a book that would give him great suppose, occupied in my long labour. The Iliad insight into the history of modern literature, and modern men of letters, a commendation which I has nearly received its last polish. And I have advanced in a rough copy as far as to the ninth really think it merits. Fifty years hence, perbook of the Odyssey. My friends are some of haps, the world will feel itself obliged to him. them in haste to see the work printed, and my answer to them is-"I do nothing else, and this I do day and night-it must in time be finished." My thoughts, however, are not engaged to Homer only. I can not be so much a poet as not to feel greatly for the King, the Queen, and the country. My speculations on these subjects are indeed melancholy, for no such tragedy has befallen in my day. We are forbidden to trust in man; I will not therefore say I trust in Mr. Pitt: —but in his counsels, under the blessing of Providence, the remedy is, I believe, to be found, if a remedy there be. His integrity, firmness, and sagacity, are the only human means that seem adequate to the great emergence. MY DEAR SIR, W. C. The Lodge, Jan. 24, 1789. WE have heard from my cousin in Norfolkstreet; she reached home safely, and in good time. An observation suggests itself, which, though I have but little time for observation making, I must allow myself time to mention. Accidents, as we call them, generally occur when there seems least reason to expect them; if a friend of ours travels far in different roads, and at an unfavourable season, we are reasonably alarmed for the safety of one in whom we take so much interest; yet how seldom do we hear a tragical account of such a journey! It is, on the contrary, at home, in our yard or garden, perhaps in our parlour, that dis You say nothing of your own health, of which I should have been happy to have heard favourably. May you long enjoy the best. Neither Mrs. Unwin nor myself have a sincerer, or a warmer aster finds us; in any place, in short, where we wish, than for your felicity. I am, my dear sir, Your most obliged and affectionate seem perfectly out of the reach of danger. The lesson inculcated by such a procedure on the part of Providence towards us seems to be that of perW. C.petual dependence. |