us a day or two's notice of your coming. In September we expect Lady Hesketh, and I only regret that our house is not large enough to hold all together, for were it possible that you could meet, you would love each other, Mrs. Unwin bids me offer you her best love. She is never well, but always patient, and always cheerful, and feels beforehand that she shall be loth to part with you. My love to all the dear Donnes of every name! write soon, no matter about what. TO LADY HESKETH. W. C. July 7, 1790. INSTEAD of beginning with the saffron-vested morning, to which Homer invites me, on a morning that has no saffron vest to boast, I shall begin with you. It is irksome to us both to wait so long as we must for you, but we are willing to hope that by a longer stay you will make us amends for all this tedious procrastination. TO JOHN JOHNSON, ESQ. MY DEAR JOHNNY, Weston, July 8, 1790. You do well to perfect yourself on the violin, Only beware, that an amusement so very bewitching as music, especially when we produce it ourselves, do not steal from you ALL those hours, that should be given to study. I can be well content, that it should serve you as a refreshment after severer exercises, but not that it should engross you wholly. Your own good sense will most probably dictate to you this precaution, and I might have spared you the trouble of it; but I have a degree of zeal for your proficiency in more important pursuits, that would not suffer me to suppress it. Having delivered my conscience by giving you this sage admonition, I will convince you that I am a censor not over and above severe, by acknowledging in the next place that I have known very good performers on the violin very learned also; and my cousin, Dr. Spencer Madan, is an instance. Mrs. Unwin has made known her whole case I am delighted that you have engaged your sisto Mr. Gregson, whose opinion of it has been very ter to visit us; for I say to myself, if John be consolatory to me: he says indeed it is a case per-Jamiable, what must Catharine be? For we males, fectly out of the reach of all physical aid, but at be we angelic as we may, are always surpassed the same time not at all dangerous. Constant by the ladies. But know this, that I shall not be pain is a sad grievance, whatever part is affected, in love with either of you, if you stay with us only and she is hardly ever free from an aching head, a few days, for you talk of a week or so. Correct as well as an uneasy side, but patience is an ano- this erratum, I beseech you, and convince us by dyne of God's own preparation, and of that he a much longer continuance here, that it was one. gives her largely. The French, who like all lively folks are extreme in every thing, are such in their zeal for W. C. Mrs. Unwin has never been well since you saw but you will be a loser by the bargain; for one letter of hers in point of real utility, and sterling value, is worth twenty of mine, and you will never W. C. TO JOHN JOHNSON, ESQ. freedom; and if it were possible to make so noble her. You are not passionately fond of lettera cause ridiculous, their manner of promoting it writing, I perceive, who have dropped a lady; could not fail to do so. Princes and peers reduced to plain gentlemanship, and gentles reduced to a level with their own lackeys, are excesses of which they will repent hereafter. Difference of rank have another from her, till you have earned it. and subordination are, I believe, of God's appointment, and consequently essential to the well-being of society: but what we mean by fanaticism in religion is exactly that which animates their politics; and unless time should sober them, they will, after all, be an unhappy people. Perhaps it Weston, July 31, 1790. deserves not much to be wondered at, that at their You have by this time, I presume, answered first escape from tyrannic shackles they should act Lady Hesketh's letter? If not, answer it without extravagantly, and treat their kings as they have delay; and this injunction I give you, judging that sometimes treated their idols. To these however it may not be entirely unnecessary; for though they are reconciled in due time again, but their I have seen you but once, and only for two or respect for monarchy is at an end. They want no- three days, I have found out that you are a scatthing now but a little English sobriety, and that ter-brain. I made the discovery perhaps the sooner, they want extremely: I heartily wish them some because in this you very much resemble myself, wit in their anger, for it were great pity that so who in the course of my life have, through mere many millions should be miserable for want of it. carelessness and inattention, lost many advan tages and insuperable shyness has also deprived | rine's unseasonable indisposition has also cost us me of many. And here again there is a resem-a disappointment, which we much regret; and blance between us. You will do well to guard were it not that Johnny has made shift to reach against both, for of both, I believe, you have a us, we should think ourselves completely unfortuconsiderable share as well as myself.. nate. But him we have, and him we will hold as long as we can, so expect not very soon to see him in Norfolk. He is so harmless, cheerful, gentle, and good-tempered, and I am so entirely at my ease with him, that I can not surrender him without a needs must, even to those who have a su perior claim upon him. He left us yesterday We long to see you again, and are only concerned at the short stay you propose to make with us. If time should seem as short to you at Weston, as it seems to us, your visit here will be gone 66 as a dream when one awaketh, or as a watch in the night." It is a life of dreams, but the pleasantest one morning, and whither do you think he is gone, naturally wishes longest. and on what errand? Gone, as sure as you are You may treat us too, if you please, with a little of your music, for I seldom hear any, and delight much in it. You need not fear a rival, for we have but two fiddles in the neighbourhood one a gardener's, the other a tailor's: terrible performers both! W. C. I shall find employment for you, having made alive, to London, and to convey my Homer to the already some part of the fair copy of the Odyssey | bookseller's. But he will return the day after toa foul one. I am revising it for the last time, and morrow, and I mean to part with him no more, spare nothing that I can mend. The Iliad is till necessity shall force us asunder. Suspect me finished. not, my cousin, of being such a monster as to If you have Donne's poems, bring them with have imposed this task myself on your kind neyou, for I have not seen them many years, and phew, or even to have thought of doing it. It should like to look them over. happened that one day, as we chatted by the fireside, I expressed a wish, that I could hear of some trusty body going to London, to whose care I might consign my voluminous labours, the work of five years. For I purpose never to visit that city again myself, and should have been uneasy to have left a charge, of so much importance to me, altogether to the care of a stage-coachman. Johnny had no sooner heard my wish, than offering himself to the service, he fulfilled it, and his offer was made in such terms, and accompanied with a countenance and manner expressive of so much alacriIr grieves me that after all I am obliged to go ty, that unreasonable as I thought it at first, tc into public without the whole advantage of Mr. give him so much trouble, I soon found that I Fuseli's judicious strictures. My only considera- should mortify him by a refusal. He is gone tion is, that I have not forfeited them by my own therefore with a box full of poetry, of which I impatience. Five years are no small portion of a think nobody will plunder him. He has only to man's life, especially at the latter end of it; and in say what it is, and there is no commodity I think a those five years, being a man of almost no en- freebooter would covet less. gagements, I have done more in the way of hard work, than most could have done in twice the number. I beg you to present my compliments to Mr. Fuseli, with many and sincere thanks for the services that his own more important occupations would allow him to render me. [TO MR. JOHNSON.] Sept. 7, 1790. TO MRS. BODHAM. TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. W. C. The Lodge, Sept. 13, 1790. MY DEAR FRIEND, YOUR letter was particularly welcome to me, not only because it came after a long silence, but because it brought me good news-news of your marriage, and consequently, I trust, of your hapMY DEAREST COUSIN, Weston, Sept. 9, 1790. piness. May that happiness be durable as your I AM truly sorry to be forced after all to resign lives, and may you be the Felices ter et amplius the hope of seeing you and Mr. Bodham at Wes- of whom Horace sings so sweetly! This is my ton this year; the next may possibly be more pro- sincere wish, and, though expressed in prose, shall pitious, and I heartily wish it may. Poor Catha- serve as your epithalamium. You comfort me when you say that your marriage will not deprive us that I should regret your union, you must make of the sight of you hereafter. If you do not wish that assurance good as often as you have opportunity. tainty, till now, that the marginal strictures found in the Task proofs were yours. The just ness of them, and the benefit I derived from them are fresh in my memory, and I doubt not tha their utility will be the same in the present in stance.* Weston, Oct. 30, 1790 TO MRS. BODHAM. After perpetual versification during five years, I find myself at last á vacant man, and reduced to read for my amusement. My Homer is gone to the press, and you will imagine that I feel a void in consequence. The proofs however will be coming soon, and I shall avail myself, with all my force, of this last opportunity, to make my work as perfect as I wish it. I shall not therefore be long time destitute of employment, but shall have sufficient to keep me occupied all the winter, and/ part of the ensuing spring, for Johnson purposes to publish either in March, April, or May-my MY DEAR COZ, very preface is finished. It did not cost me much trouble, being neither long nor learned. I have spoken my mind as freely as decency would permit on the subject of Pope's version, allowing him, at the same time, all the merit to which I think him entitled. I have given my reasons for translating in blank verse, and hold some discourse on the mechanism of it, chiefly with a view to obviate the prejudices of some people against it. I expatiate a little on the manner in which I think Homer ought to be rendered, and in which I have endeavoured to render him myself, and anticipated two or three cavils, to which I foresee that I shall be liable from the ignorant, or uncandid, in order, if possible, to prevent them. These are the chief heads of my preface, and the whole consists of about twelve pages. It is possible when I come to treat with Johnson about the copy, I may want some person to negotiate for me; and knowing no one so intelligent as yourself in books, or so well qualified to estimate their just value, I shall beg leave to resort to and rely on you as my negotiator. But I will not trouble you unless I should see occasion. My cousin was the bearer of my Mss. to London. He went on purpose, and returns to-morrow. Mrs, Unwin's affectionate felicitations, added to my own, conclude me, My dear friend, sincerely yours, W. C. The trees of a colonnade will solve my riddle. [TO MR. JOHNSON.] Weston, Oct. 3, 1790. MR. NEWTON having again requested that the preface which he wrote for my first volume may be prefixed to it, I am desirous to gratify him in a particular that so emphatically bespeaks his friendship for me; and should my books see another edition, shall be obliged to you if you will add it accordingly. Weston, Nov. 21, 1790. OUR kindness to your nephew is no more than he must entitle himself to wherever he goes. His amiable disposition and manners will never fail to secure him a warm place in the affection of all who know him. The advice I gave respecting his poem on Audley End was dictated by my love of him, and a sincere desire of his success. It is one thing to write what may please our friends, who, because they are such, are apt to be a little biased in our favour; and another to write what may please every body; because they who have no connexion, or even knowledge of the author, will be sure to find fault if they can. My advice, however salutary and necessary as it seemed to me, was such as I dared not give to a poet of less diffidence than he. Poets are to a proverb irritable, and he is the only one I ever knew, who seems to have no spark of that fire about him. He has left us about a fortnight, and sorry we were to lose him; but had he been my son, he must have gone, and I could not have regretted him more. If his sister be still with you, present my love to her, and tell her how much I wish to see them at Weston together. Mrs. Hewitt probably remembers more of my childhood, than I can recollect either of hers or my own; but this I recollect, that the days of that period were happy days, compared with most I have seen since. There are few perhaps in the world, who have not cause to look back with regret on the days of infancy; yet, to say the truth, I suspect some deception in this. For infancy itself has its cares; and though we can not now conceive how trifles could affect us much, it is celtain that they did. Trifles they appear now, but W. C. such they were not then. I beg that you will not suffer your reverence Iam anxious to preserve this singular anecdote; as it either for Homer, or his translator, to check your is honourable both to the modest poet, and to his intelligen continual examinations. I never knew with cer- bookseller. Hayley. of Euclid into the bosom of Justinian. It is use- other poets could be apprised of, they would do ful I suppose to every man, to be well grounded in well to follow. Miscarriages in authorship (I am the principles of jurisprudence; and I take it to persuaded) are as often to be ascribed to want of bé a branch of science that bids much fairer to painstaking, as to want of ability. enlarge the mind, and give an accuracy of reasoning, that all the mathematics in the world. Mind your studies, and you will soon be wiser than I can hope to be. We had a visit on Monday, from one of the first women in the world; in point of character, I mean, and accomplishments, the dowager lady Spencer! I may receive perhaps some honours hereafter, should my translation speed according to my wishes, and the pains I have taken with it; but shall never receive any that I shall esteem so highly. She is indeed worthy to whom I should dedicate, and may but my Odyssey prove as worthy of her, I shall have nothing to fear from the critics. Yours, my dear Johnny, With much affection, W. C.. TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. Lady Hesketh, Mrs. Unwin, and myself often mention you, and always in terms, that though you would blush to hear them, you need not be ashamed of; at the same time wishing much that you could change our trio into a quartetto. W. C. TO THE REV. WALTER BAGOT. MY DEAR FRIEND, Weston, Dec. 1, 1790. It is plain that you understand trap, as we used to say at school: for you begin with accusing me of long silence, conscious yourself at the same time that you have been half a year in my debt, or thereabout. But I will answer your accusations with a boast, with a boast of having intended many a day to write to you again, notwithstanding your long insolvency. Your brother and sister of Chicheley can both witness for me that, weeks since, I testified such an intention; and if I did not execute it, it was not for want of good will, but for want of leisure. When will you be able to glory of such designs, so liberal and magnificent, you, who have nothing to do by your own confession but to grow fat and saucy? Add to all this, that I have had a violent cold, such as I never have but at the first approach of winter, and such as at that time I seldom escape. A fever accompanied it, and an incessant cough. MY DEAR FRIEND, I WILL Confess that I thought your letter somewhat tardy, though at the same time I made every excuse for you, except, as it seems, the right. That indeed was out of the reach of all possible conjecture. I could not guess that your silence was occasioned by your being occupied with either thieves or thief-takers. Since however, the cause was such, I rejoice that your labours were not in vain, and that the freebooters who had plun- You measure the speed of printers, of my printer dered your friend, are safe in limbo. I admire too, as at least, rather by your own wishes than by any much as I rejoice in your success, the indefatiga- just standard. Mine (I believe) is as nimble a ble spirit that prompted you to pursue, with such one as falls to the share of poets in general, though unremitting perseverance, an object not to be not nimble enough to satisfy either the author or reached but at the expense of infinite trouble, and his friends. I told you that my work would go to that must have led you into an acquaintance with press in autumn, and so it did. But it had been scenes and characters the most horrible to a mind six weeks in London ere the press began to work like yours. I see in this conduet the zeal and upon it. About a month since we began to print, firmness of your friendship to whomsoever pro- and at the rate of nine sheets in a fortnight have fessed; and though I wanted not a proof of it proceeded to about the middle of the sixth Iliad. myself, contemplate so unequivocal an indication" No further?" you say, I answer-No, nor even of what you really are, and of what I always be- so far, without much scolding on my part both at lieved you to be, with much pleasure. May you the bookseller and the printer. But courage, my rise from the condition of an humble prosecutor, or witness, to the bench of judgment ! friend! Fair and softly as we proceed, we shall find our way through at last; and in confirmation When your letter arrived, it found me with the of this hope, while I write this, another sheet arworst and most obstinate cold that I ever caught. rives. I expect to publish in the spring. This was one reason why it had not a speedier I love and thank you for the ardent desire you answer. Another is, that, except Tuesday morn-express to hear me bruited abroad, el per ora virâm ng, there is none in the week in which I am not volitantem. For your encouragement I will tell engaged in the last revisal of my translation; the you that I read, myself at least, with wonderful evisal I mean of my proof-sheets. To this busi- complacence what I have done; and if the world, ness I give myself with an assiduity and attention when it shall appear, do not like it as well as I, truly admirable, and set an example, which if we will both say and swear with Fluellin, that it is an ass and a fool (look you!) and a prating cox-soon as possible to your kind inquiries after my comb. health, which has been both better and worse since I felt no ambition of the laurel. Else, though I wrote last. The cough was cured, or nearly so, vainly perhaps, I had friends who would have made when I received your letter, but I have lately been a stir on my behalf on that occasion. I confess afflicted with a nervous fever, a malady formidable that when I learned the new condition of the of- to me above all others, on account of the terror and fice, that odes were no longer required, and that dejection of spirits, that in my case always accomthe salary was increased, I felt not the same dis-pany it. I even looked forward, for this reason, like of it. But I could neither go to court, nor to the month now current, with the most miserable could I kiss hands, were it for a much more valua-apprehensions, for in this month the distemper has ble consideration. Therefore never expect to hear twice seized me I wish to be thankful however that royal favours find out me! to the sovereign Dispenser both of health and sickness, that, though I have felt cause enough to tremble, he gives me now encouragement to hope that I may dismiss my fears, and expect, for this January at least, to escape it. Adieu, my dear old friend! I will send you a mortuary copy soon, and in the mean time remain, Ever yours, W.C. TO JOHN JOHNSON, ESQ. Weston, Dec. 18, 1790. I PERCEIVE myself so flattered by the instances of illustrious success mentioned in your letter, that I feel all the amiable modesty, for which I was once so famous, sensibly giving way to a spirit of vain glory. The King's College subscription makes me proud the effect that my verses have had on your two young friends, the mathematicians, makes me proud; and I am, if possible, prouder still of the contents of the letter that you enclosed. * The mention of quantity reminds me of a remark that I have seen somewhere, possibly in Johnson, to this purport, that the syllables in our language being neither long nor short, our verse accordingly is less beautiful than the verse of the Greeks or Romans, because requiring less artifice in its construction. But I deny the fact, and am ready to depose on oath, that I find every syllable as distinguishably and clearly either long or short, in our language, as in any other. I know also that without an attention to the quantity of our syllables, good verse can not possibly be written; and that ignorance of this matter is one reason You complained of being stupid, and sent me why we see so much that is good for nothing. The one of the cleverest letters. I have not complained movement of a verse is always either shuffling or of being stupid, and have sent you one of the dull-graceful, according to our management in this parest. But it is no matter; I never aim at any thing ticular, and Milton gives almost as many proofs above the pitch of every day's scribble, when I of it in his Paradise Lost as there are lines in the write to those I love. poem. Away therefore with all such unfounded Homer proceeds, my boy! We shall get through observations! I would not give a farthing for many it in time, and (I hope) by the time appointed. bushels of them-nor you perhaps for this letter. We are now in the tenth Iliad. I expect the la- Yet upon recollection, forasmuch as I know you dies every minute to breakfast. You have their to be a dear lover of literary gossip, I think it posbest love. Mine attends the whole army of Donnes sible you may esteem it highly.. at Mattishall Green assembled. How happy should I find myself, were I but one of the party! My capering days are over. But do you caper for me, that you may give them some idea of the happiness I should feel, were I in the midst of them! W. C. TO THE REV. WALTER BAGOT. MY DEAR FRIEND, Weston, Jan 4, 1791. You would long since have received an answer to your last, had not the wicked Clerk of Northampton delayed to send me the printed copy of my annual dirge, which I waited to enclose. Here it is at last, and much good may it do the readers! Believe me, my dear friend, most truly yours, [TO MR. JOHNSON.*] Note by the Editor. This extract is, in fact, entitled to a much earlier place in the collection; but having a common subject with the conclud. ing paragraph of the preceding Letter, it seemed to call for insertion immediately after it. I DID not write in the line, that has been tam It happened that some accidental reviser of the mana script had taken the liberty to alter a line in a poem of Cow per's:-This liberty drew from the offended poet the following very just and animated remonstrance, which I am anxious to I have regretted that I could not write sooner, preserve, because it elucidates, with great felicity of expres especially because it well became me to reply as sion, his deliberate ideas on English versification. Hayley |