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Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont film^s en commenpant par la premiere page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant pac la de'niiare page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des symt ^les suivants apparaitra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole — ► signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole V signifie "FIN ". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre filmds d des taux de reduction difr^rents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour §tre reproduit en un seul cliche, il est film6 d partir de r&ngle sup6rieur gauche, de gauche d droite. et de haut an bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessa^re. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m6thode. 1 2 3 32 X 1 2 3 4 5 6 i-., Cnol C c ^ FREDERI THE i '■I ■ ^ JBiioUsb riDen of letters ^)i9h School (Bbitinii LIFE OF COWPBR BY &DLDWm SMITH ANNOTATTOm, APPENDIX, ETC. BY FREDERICK HENRY SYKES. M.A.. Ph.D., Era V V*l THE COPP, OLARK f'OMPANY. Limited 1894 35 Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year , thousand eight hundred and ninety-two, by Macmillan 4 Co.. the Office of the Minister of Agriculture. one in t ( CONTENTS. BiooBAPHicAL Note on the Author .... y CHAPTER I. Early Lifb .... - ... g CHAPTER IT. At ITuntinouon— The Unwins 23 CHAPTER in. At Olney Mr. Newton - - . . o^ CHAPTER IV. Authorhhif— Thk Moral Satires 44 CHAPTER V. Thb Task .... 66 CHAPTER VI, Short Poems and Translations yo CHAPTER Vn. The Letters ..... " ■ - 86 CHAPTER VIII. Close of Life ... 107 Annotations ... - .- 119 Appendix ... - 163 ■^1 i i^ T Beri at J and f^ Lati in 1 resi( sity. prac polit espec men I Koyi secre Secor In Mod( an ac porta show Aniei of G( yebell Wj in U Conit etitut i'woy BIOGRAPHICAL NuTL. The author of this memoir of Cowper was bom in Keudinff, Berkshire, Enghintl, on August ];3th, 1823. He was ech.cHled at Eton, and at Christ Church, Oxfoid, displaying a brilliant and vorsatih) genius, winning in the university the prizes top Latin verse, Latin essay, and English essay. On his gradtmtion in 1845, he was elected fellow of University College, and resided for a short time in Oxford, acting as tutor in the'univer- sity. He studied law, was admitted to the l)ar, but nev - practised. There was far more attraction for him in the political movements of his time and in the sludy of history, especially the political histoiy of England. When the move- ment for the reorganization of the Universities took shape in a Royal Conunission, Goldwin Smith accepted an assistant- secretaryship, heli)ing the committee so materially tliat when a second Commission was issued he held the post of secretary. In ]8r)7 Goldwin Smith was appointed Regius Professor of Modern History in Oxford, lectured with success, while taking an active i)art in current politics- by the contribution of ini^ portant articles in support of the Liberals. His Liberalism showed itself, as well, in the support he gave the North in the American Civil War and in the aid he lent to the prosecution cf General Eyre, who had ruthlessly put down the Jamaica rebellion. When Mr. Smith came to America on a lecturing tour in 1864, he was received with much enthusiasm. In 1868, Cornell University oifiTed him the chair of English and Con- [etitutional History, which, having resigned his post in Oxford two years before, he accepted, and came to America. v vi BlOOhAPMlOAL HdTE. Three years later Mr. Smith Mettled in Toronto, where in a beautiful home, "The iimuge," an ideal residence for the scholar an,i litterateur, he still lives. Mr. Goldwin Smith's works, other than the present memoir are almost entirely historical and political. Some, like Lecture's on the Stuchj of History, Three English Statesmen, are vohnnes of lectui-es; some, such as Irish History and the Irish Question, The Conduct of England to Ireland, are devoted to the great Irish question, over which though a Liberal he differed most strongly from Mr. Gladstone; some,, like The Political Destiny of Canada, Canasta and the Canadian Question, The Civil War tn America, T}^ Political History of the United States, deal with siKicial problems of this continent. Of recent yeai-s the scholarly world has had from his pen some excellent volumes of translations from Greek and Latin. The interests of Camula have always had a warm friend in Mr. Goldwm Smith. He has occupied himself with its periodic press as editor and contributor, and to hiui the foundation of The Week is due; he has taken an active part in the guidance of our educational system; in independent politics he has been a prominent, though not a popular figure for many years. A man of keen intellect, master of a faultless style, cold clear, powerful, with all the graces of culture, with the fearh-ss- ne.ss of moral courage, Mr. Goldwin Su.ith has made a decided impi^ss upon his age. One may miss in his work the tine beliefs and enthusiasms that pos.ses.sed Matthew Arnold and may trace hero and thei-e a tona of pessimism ; but that is the I)enalty the fastidious critic must pay for the keenness of liis critical faculty. I I LIFE OF COWPER COAVPER. CHAPTEK I. KARLY UPB. CowpKR is the most important English poet of the period between Pope and thn illustrious group headed by Wordsworth, Byron, and Shelley, which arose out of the intellectual ferment of the European Revolution. As a reformer of poetry, who called it back from conventionality to nature, and at the same time as the teacher of a new school of sentiment which acted Ks a solvent upon the existing moral and social system, he may perhaps himself be numbered among the precursors of the Revolution, though he was certainly the mildest of them all. As a sentimentHlist he presents a faint analogy to Rousseau, whom in natural temperament he somewhat resembled. He was also the great poet of the religious revival which marked V' the kttor part of the eighteenth century in England, and y which was called Evangelicism within the esUiblishraent and l^ Mothodism without. In this way he is associated with Wesley f nd Whitefield, as well as with the philanthropists of the movement, such as Wilberforce, Thornton, and Clarkson. As a poet he touches, on diflennt sides of his character, Goldsmith, Crabbe, and Burns. With Goldsmith and Crabbe he shared the honour of improving English taste in the sense of truth- fulness and simplicity. To Burns he felt his affinity, across a gulf of social circumstances, and in spite of a dialect not yet made fashionable by Scott. Besides his poetry, he holds a high, perhaps the higlie«t place, among English letter writera : and the collection of his lettei-s appended to Southey's biogi-aphy ,».\- ! A 6 1::akly life. forms, with tlie biographical portions of his poetry, the mateiiala for a sketch of his life. Southey's biography itself is very help- ful, though too prolix and too much filled out with dissertations for common readers. Had its author only done for Cowper what he did for Nelson 1 * William Cowper came of the Whig nobility of the robe. His great-uncle, after whom he was named, was the Whig Lord Chancellor of Anne and George I. His grandfather was that Spencer Cowper, judge of the Common Pleas, for love of whom the pretty Quakeress drowned herself, and who by the rancour of party, was indicted for her murder. His father, the Rev. John Cowper, D.D., was chaplain to George II. His mother was a Donne, of the race of the poet, and descended by several lines from Henry III. A Whig and a gentleman he was by birth, a Whig and a gentleman he remained to the end. He was born on the I5th November (old style), 1731, in his father's rectory of Berkampstead From nature he received, with a large measure of the gifts of genius, a still larger measure of its painful sensibilities. In his portrait by Roniney* the brow bespeaks intellect, the features feeling and refinement, i the eye madness. The stronger parts of character, the combative and proiielling forces he evidently lacked from the beginning. For the battle of life he was totally unfit. His jud^ent fn its healthy state was, even on practical questions, sound enoufrh as his letters abundantly prove ; but his sensibility not only rendered him incapable of wrestling with a rough world, but kept him always on the verge of madness, and freq.,ently plunged him into it. To the malady which threw him out of active life we owe not the meanest of English poets. At the age of thirty-two, writing of himself, he says, " I am of a very singular temper, and very unlike all the men that I • Our acknowlcagments are ako due to Mr. Beulmiu, the writer of the Memoir prefixed to the Globe fiaition of Cowper, cow PER. 7 have ever conversed with. Certainly I am not an absohite fool, but I have more weakness than the greatest of all the fools I can recollect at pieseut. In short, if I was as fit for the next world as I am unfit for this— and God foibid I should speak it m vanity— I would not change conditions with any saint in Christendom." Folly produces nothing good, and if Cowper liad been an absolute fool, he would not have written good poetry. But he does not exaggerate his own weakness, and that he should have become a power among mer 's a remarkable triumph of the influences which have given I. ,i to Christian civilization. The world into which the child came was one very adverse to him, and at the same time very much in need of him. It was a world from which the spirit of poetry seemed to have fled. There could be no stronger proof of this than the occupation of the throne of Spenser, Shakespeare, and Milton by the arch-versifier Pope.. The Revolution of 1688 was glorious, but unlike the Puritan Revolution which it followed, and in the political sphere partly ratified, it was profoundly piosaic. Spiritual religion, the source of Puritan grandeur and of the poetry of Milton, was almost extinct; there was not much mote of it among the Nonconformists, who had now .^ become to a great extent mere Whig.s, with a decided Unitarian tendency. The Church was little better than a political force, cultivated and manipulated by political leaders for their own purposes. The Bishops were either politicians or theological poleipics collecting trophies of victoiy over free-thinkers as titles to higher preferment. The inferior clergy as a body were far nearer in character to Trulliber than to Dr. Primrose ; coarse, sordid, neglectful of their duties, shamelessly addicted to sinecurism and pluralities, fanatics in their Toryism and in attachment to their corporate privileges, cold, rationalistic R«d almost heathen in their preaching, if they preached at all The Bociety of the day is mirrored in the pictures of Hogarth, iu u ■/ 8 EARLY LIFE. the works of Fielding and SiuoUet; hard and heartless polish was the best of it; and not a little of it was Marriage d la, Mode. Chesterfield, with his soulless culture, his court graces, and his fashionable imnioralitHs, was about the highest type of an English gentleman; but the Wilkeses, Potters, and Sand- wiches, whose mania for vice culminated in the Hell-fire Club, were more numerous than the Chesterfields. Among the country squires, for one Allworthy or Sir Roger de Coverley there were many Westerns. Among the common people religion was almost extinct, and assuredly no new morality or sentiment, such as Positivists now promise, had taken its place. Sometimes the i-ustic thought for himself, and scepticism took formal possession of his mind , but, as we see from one of Cowper's letters, it was a coarse scepticism which desired to be buried with its hounds. Ignorance and brutality reigned in the cottage. Drunkenness reigned in palace and cottage alike. Gambling, cock-fighting, and bull-fighting were the amusements of the people, Political life, which, if it had been pure and vigorous, might have made up for the absence of spiritual iiifluences, was corrupt from the top of the scale to the bottom : its eflfects on national character is pourtrayed in Hogarth's Election. That property had its duties as well as its rights, nobody had yet ventured to say or think. The duty of a gentleman towards his own class was to pay his debts of honour and to fight a duel whenever he was challenged by one of his own order; towards the lower class his duty was none. Thou<^h the forms of government were elective, and Cowper gives us a description of the candidate at election times obsequiously soliciting votes, society was intensely aristoci-auc, and each mnk was divided from that below it by a sharp line which p.ecluded brotherhood or sympathy. Says the Duchess of Buckingham to Lady Huntingdon, who had asked her to come and hear Whitefiftlfl "I flioTji' ■«r«,ij. i"-J-"i-;- ^- J' • c , i i„ J • -..r ici^.jnijipiurtiio information concerning the Methodist preachers; their doctrines i^re most I I COWPER. 9 repulsive, and strongly tinctured with disrespect towurds their superiors, in perpetu^illy endeavouring to level all ranks and do away with all distinctions. It is monstrous to be told you liHve a heart as sinful as the common wretches that crawl on the earth. This is highly offensive and insulting; and I cannot but wonder that your ladyship should relish any senti- ments so much at variance with high rank and good breeding. I shall be most hHp))y to come and hear your favourite preacher!" Her Grace's sentiments towards the common wretches that crawl on the earth were shared, we may be sure, by her Grace's waiting-maid. Of humanity there was as little as there was of religion. It was the age of the criminal law which hanged men for petty thefts, of life-long imp.isonu.ent for debt, of the stocks and the pill.My, of a Temple Bar garnished with the heads of traitors, of the uniefoi-med prison system, of the press- gang, of unrestrained tyranny and savagery at public schools; (That the slave trade was iniquitous hardly any one suspecte^l even men who deemed themselves leligious took part mil without scruple Tfiut a chan-e w^^s at hand, and a still' mightier change was in prosj.ectij At (he time of Cowper's birth, John Wesley was Cwenty-eight and Whitetield was seventeen. With them the revival of religion w»is at hand. Johnson, the moial reformer, was twenty-two. Howard was born, and in less than a generation Wilberforce was to come. ' When Cowper was six years pid his mother died ; and seldom has a child, even such a child, lost more, even in a mo'her. Fifty years after her death lie still thinks of her, he says, with love and tenderness every day. Late in his life'his cousin Mrs. Anne Bodham recalled herself to his remembrance by sending him his mother's picture. " Every ci-eature," he writes, "that has any affinity to my mother is dear to me', and you, the daughter of her brother jh-a Imi*- om" »• . i; ■ i. ^ - — : — -"•• •'•!'• icmuvc distant from her; I love you therefore, and love you much, both for her Bake and for your own. The world could not have furnished ..■>/>"' :Y: ( 10 KARLT LIFR. preK(>ntofl lw..v,.if * , "'^^*' ""^ '"k' »ts dear original whoi-H .<• ,-c f I I . ,. """"*««8- -l kissed It and lunjj it from I "w i r "'"'°'';"' '«"•'"'■— w.,i„„ I recive,! flu> l,n.„i *• . , '"^ "^^" name, yet I feol tlu, bond of imtun. draw „,« v.-hnm-ntlv to your sde" A„ My moth..,. - when I learnM that tho„ wast .lea.l. bay , M^^t th..u onscioua ,.f tho tears I shed » over d thy spirit o'er thy sorrowings,,,,. \N .etoh even then, life's journey jn.st Ugun ? P.'rw.psU.,u«avestiue. though unfelt. a kiss; 1 e. haps a tear, ,f souls can weep i„ bhss- Ah, that niateri,al s.niK. !-it answers-Yes I lieard the bell toli'd on thy burial day I saw the hearse that bore thee slow aw.ay And, turning from my nursery win.low, d.'ew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu ! But was it such v-It W.VS. -- \Vhere thou art gone Ad,e„s a„,l farewells are a sound unknown. May 1 but meet th.e on that peaceful shore. The ,,art.ng word sh.dl pass n.y lips no n.ore ' hy n,a,dens, griev...l themndves at my concern. Oft g,ive me promise of thy quick return, VVhat ardently I wish'd, I long believed. Aaa aisappomted still, was stUl dtceivid • COWPKB. J I By expnctfttion every day l)egiiilr(l, Dnpu of to-iiionow even i.-oui a child. 1 huH many a Fad to-inorrow came and went, Tdl, all my Htock of infant sorrowK spent, I leain'd at last Hul)niis.sion to my lot, But, tliougii I loss deplored theo, n.;'er forgot. In the yeaiH that followed no doubt I.e retne,„hered lier too well. At six yeai-8 of age this littlo masH of tii.iid and nmvenuir sensibility was, in accordance with the cruel custom of the time, sent to a lar,^ro boarding school. The chancre from home to a boarding school is bad enough now; it was much worse in those days. " r had hardships," says Cowper, "of various kinds to conflict with, which 1 f,.lt more sensibly in proportion to the tenderness with which I had been treated at home. But my chief affliction consisted in my being singled out from all the other boys by a lad of about fifteen years of age a« a proper object upon whom he might let loose the cruelty of his temper. I choose to conceal a particular recital of the many acts of barbarity with which he made it his business continually to persecute me It will be sufRpi(>„t to .say that his .savage treatment of me •'nj.ressPd such a dread of his figure upon my mind, that I well remember being afraid to lift my eyes upon him higher than to his knees, and that I knew him better by his sho3-buckles thin by any other part of his dres.s. May the Lord pardon him ancl ,nay we meet in glory !" Cowper charges him.self, it may be m the exaggerated style of a self-accusing atint, with havi„., become at school an adept in the art of lyinj. Southey says this must be a mistake, since at English public schools b^ys do not learn to lie. But the n.ist^ike is on Southey's part ; bullyin.. such as this child endured, while it makes the strong boys tyrants, makes the weak boys cowards, and teache., tl,«.n .^ detend themselves bv deceit, the fiat of the weak. The recolJec- K.m ( 12 EARLY LIFE. tion Of ^is boarding school mainly it wa« tl.Mt ufc a later dav inspired the plea for a hon.o education in Tiruclr^u^ ^ Then why resign into a stranger's han.l A fe>8k as much within your own comnmnd, Ihat God and nature, an.l y„ur interest too beem with one voice to dtlogate to you ? Why hire a lodging in a house unknown tor one whose tendo.ost thoughts all hover round your own» Tms second weamng, needless ,vs it is, " How does it lacerate both your heart aad his J The indented stick that loses day by day Notch f.fter notch, till ail are smooth',! away Bears witness long ere his dismission come ' With what intense desire he wants his home But though the joys he hopes beneath vour roof Bid fair enough to answer in the proof, Harmless, and safe, and natural as the'y are, A disappointment waits him even there : Arrived, he feels an unexpected ch.m.re ' He blushes, hangs his heads, is shy and' strange >o longer takes, as once, with fearless ease His favourite stand between his father's knees, But seeks the corner of some distant seat And eyes the door, and watches a retreat, And, least familiar where he shouhi be most Feels all his happiest privileges lost. Alas, poor boy !~the natural efTect Of love by absence chill'd into respect. • From the boai-ding school, the boy, his eyes being liable to n.^.m„,a tion, was sent to live with an oculist, in wfose hJu e he spent two years, enjoying ut all events a respite from tl e sulfenngs and the evils of the boarding school. He was then sent to Westn.i..ter School, at that time in its glory 'St Westminster m those days must have been a scene not' merely of hardship but ot cruel suffering and degradation to t e younger and weaker boys, has been proved by the res.^. ) of the Public Schools Commission, {'here wi aLJllLt^ r daj COWPEtt. 13 to ISO Aie en lat he es 3d system and a regular vocabulary of bullying. Yet Cowj.er seoms not to have been so unhappy theie as at the private school ; he 8i)eak8 of himself as having excelled at cricket and football; and excellence in cricket and football at a public school generally carries with it, b(;sides health and enjoyment, not merely immunity from bullying, but high social consider- ation. With all Cowi)er's delicacy and sensitiveness, he must have had a certain fund of physical strength, or he could hardly have borne the literary labour of his later years, especially as he was subject to the metiicai treatment of a worse thaw empirical era. At one time he says, while he was at West- minster, his spirits were so bouyant that he fancied he should never die, till a skull thrown out before him by a grave-digger as he was passing through St. Margaret's churchyard in^the night recalled him to a sense of his mortality. The instruction at a i)ublic school in those days was ex- clusively clnasical. Cowper was under Vincent Bourne, his portrait of whom is in some respects a picture not only of its immediate subject, but of the schoolmaster of the last century. " I love the memory of Vinny Bourne. I think him a better Latin poet than Tibullus, Propertius, Ausonius, or any of the writers in his way, except Ovid, and not at all inferior to him. I love him too with a love partiality, because he was usher of the fifth form at Westminster when I passed through it. He was so good-natured and so indolent that I lost more "than I got by him, for he made mo as idle as himself. He was such a slovrn, as if he had trusted to his genius as a cloak for every- thing that could disgust you in his person ; and indeed in his ■writing he has almost made amends for all f remember s eing the Duke of Kichmond set tire to his greasy locks and box his ears to put it out again." Cowper learned, 1- not to write .^at.in verses as well as Vinny Bourne himself, to write them very well, as his Latin versions of some of his own short poems bear witness. Not only co, but he evidenlly u BARLT LIFB. ...»me . g„«l classical «,l,„l„, „ c,,^ic., ,„|,„,^„„ ,.,»o d.,,, and «»,„ired the litan.ry form of „,,ich the classic ..-. the best «,l,„„, Out of school hours he studied i„d^ P«u. «ntly as clever boys under the unexacting rule of the old pubUc schools often did. and re^ through The »hola of Ae W and Orfj,.„j, with a friend. He also probably picked „p ■^ W«tn„nster much of the little knowledge of the JorM win h he ever p<»sessed. Among hi. schoolfeir„ws waa War™ Hasfngs ,,, whose guUt as proconsul he afterwards, for he ^ke „ Auld Lang Syne, refused to believe, and Impey "hi charac ,r h^ had the ill fortune to be re,„i„d as t eldel Mucaulay's fancy piolui-e of H«stin»s wi^^MroT '^"'■"'""'"■> C-P-. at eighteen, went to live w.th Mr Chapman, an attorney, to whom he was articled be,ng destmed for the Law. He chose that profession, blZ' not of h,s own accord, but to gratify an indulgent father wh<; may hare been led into the er„,r by a recollJi,., „f th' ll^ honour, of the family, as weU as by the "silver pence" whrch lUrZ' '"" .."1 T"" '^ ''" ^"" '^"» "'Westminster PMw His days were spent in " ^igmlJaoi^^m/- wa h. cons™, Theodora aud ^rriTSTl^hS^ „f Ashey Cowper, tn the neighbouring Southampton Row Ashley Cowpar was a very little man in a white hat lined wlh picked up by mistake for a mushroom. His fellow^clerk Z the office, and his accomplice in giggling and making gi^l, was one strangely mated with him; the sti-ong, aspirin- IVi unscrupulous Thurlow, who though fond of plej^ui-e'wlrt a' same time prej^rin,; himself to push his way to welh and P«w«-. Cowper felt that Thurl„: would rejhlrmmirof r.":' "'■' ": 7-=^ "'"-'f --.n b„ow, and ZXI wZ CT J;° """ *""-"-»■ to give him somethimr COWPBR. 16 At the end of his three years with the attorney, Cowper took chambers in the Middle, from which he afterwards removed to the Inner Temple. The Temple in now a pile of law offices. In those days it was still a Society. One of Cowpor's set says of it: "The Temple is the barrier that divides the City and suburbs; and the gentlemen vho reside there seem influenced by the situntion of the place they inhabit. Tenii)lars are in general a kind of citizen courtiers. They aim at the air and the mien of the drawing-room; but the holy-day smoothness of a 'prentice, heightened with some additional touches of the rake or coxcomb, betrays itself in everything they do. The Temple, however, is stocked with its p culiar beaux, wits, poets, critics, and every character in the gay world; and it is a thousand pities that so pretty a society should be disgraced with a few dull fellows, who can submit to puzzle themselves with cases and reports, and have not taste enough to follow the genteel method of studying the law." Cowper at all events studied law by the genteel method; he read it almost as little in the Temple as he had in the attorney's office, though in due coui-se of time he was formally called to the Bar, and even managed in some way to acquire a reputation, which when he had entirely given up the profession brouglit him a curious offer of a readership at Lyons Inn. His time was given to literature, and he became a member of a little circle of men of letters and journalists which had its social centre in the Nonsense Club, consisting of seven Westminster men who dined together every Thursday. In the set were Bonnell Thornton and Colman, twin wits, fellow-writeis of the periodical essays which were the rage in that day, joint proprietora of the St. James's Chronicle, contributors both of them to the Connoisseur, and translatoi-s, Colman of Terence, Bonnell Thornton of Plautus, Coltn.an being a dramatist besides. In the set was Lloyd, another wit and essayist and a poet, with a character not of the best. On tlie edge of the set, but ll 'r- H KARLY LI>K. Wilkes ■ Ho"^ rT "'''»'""«"'■ Cl»'"=l'ill w„ a link to Westminster.. 0«v and M T "" "™"^ ™°«''«' "o tomy much about il,«L l- """'■ I' '« "<««««» ii. interco„.l:i'kr, "■"''' "-P""'"" <>' Cowper's youth; i.i=>se,f beca:::\:,':'\r,;^::^^vj''- -t. -a .>efo.e h^ "..cluess, entire change of mini .td th^, ;'""™"*''' "^ K» tmoe moained, it w.^ . h" A ''"° °' '""""'"^ ve^es, and in the genej JuU^VlT""" °'- '"'""'""'' early pmotice in oJmn^tioT n! ^ °°°"*^' »'"' "^ Co„„<„>«^.udthe«'Xr:. oTrTu '^«'"""^ '° "" of the lighter pawK „f II, r ' ^ ™ """"'^ imitations v«.es to "i>eiia,-.:i„':;,:;rt^d "SeCj; ™tf //enWarfs. He keot uo hi. !l ' """.'•'■on of the l™ iette. the-ei: p^ft tT hU TT"' "" ''°"»'- '^ Two or three hallad,, '>::t,f ."^JZ'Z'Ut ^T' »e.-e l«>pular, and „„ „ay believe hi^ plTu 7" "^ pati-iotio. .. When poor Bob WMte "Te ,^v. ^ '^ ""'™ news of Bo^aweo'ssuooe; oBWI ^"^1 " ''™'>«'" in the I leap for joy I wleoT I 1 T" "' ^"'''"S"'' ''"^ ^id .nore trajponed B t^I'" '""■? '*^'' <^°»''-'. I »- ''ill' Wolfe .a/e ..rion":::::""" ^^'-'^ -^ -"""" -'- The ..Delia- to „hon. Cowper w^te ve„e, was his oo..«„ 1 COWI'ER. 17 Tlicodora, with whom he had an unforhimite love nfTiir. fler father, Aslih^y Cowpei-, foi-liachi their imirriai^e, notniiiiillv on the ground of consanguinity, really, :js Sonthcy thinks, l.^cause he saw Cowper's unfitness for 1)Us!iuh3 and inaliiiity to maintain a wife. Cowper felt the r!;.«:ii)|)ointment deeply at the time, aa well he might do if Theodora reaeinhled her sister. Lady Hesketh. Theodora reniitinod unmarried, and, as wr^ shall see did not foiget her lover. Hia letters she preserved till her death in extreme old age. In 1756 Cowper's father died. There does not seem to have heen much intercourse between them, nor does the son in after- years speak with any deep feeling of his loss: possibly his complaint in Tirocinium of the efl'ect of boarding-schools, in estranging oliiMicn from their parents, may have had some reference to liis own case. His local affections, however, were very strong, and he felt with unusual keenness the final partinw from his old home, and the pang of thinking that strangers usurp our dwelling and the familiar i)laoes will know us no more. Where onjo we dwelt our name is lie inl no more, Children not thin^ ha\e trod my n;:rsery floor ; Ami where the gardener Jlol)!]!, day by day, Drew me to school along the public way, Delighted with my bauble coach, and wiapp'd In scarlet mantle warm and velvet capp'd. "{'is now become a history little known, That once we call'd she pastoral house our own. Before the rector's death, it seems, his i)en had hardly realized the cruel frailty of the tenure by which a home in a parsonage is held. Of the family of Berkhampstead Rectory there wrus now left besides himself only his brother .John ■Cowper, Fellow of Cains College, Cambridge, whose birth had cost their mother's life. When Cowp<'r was thirty-two and still living in the Temple, came the sad and decisive crisis of his life. He went mad and 11 M r 19 EABLY LlWf, il J T'- » a v„«„e ,.„„,;: ; ; "-0.. "f in. , », *l',ch „„ A>uH i. .o,„„ti,„oll "■"" '■'•"" "'•"'"■■"»"■'»■. Cowper', onae .here i. „„ 1 „V ", "' "'""'■''■- "■" ■" 0">y from «,„ ,,„„ „;,'„"'"'""'""'""■ "••|-'"»".iiit.v B;'.-Ha,„ .,„ „,,„,„ ^: ;;;;»■■ tw„ „f ,,„ „,„ „„f, Tiieo.lom w„, «.,„.„| <,„,„„.,. , ?' ' , «"• >iiluon, lov« „f r«l.gio„» p,.,ti„,.,, tb„,;,^ "'"' "»■ l«™ J!.v„tlv given u, Wiov„.l in ,.e,i,,io„, h„/at"l Wt':;'.'' """ '"' »'"-"/ »l.en l,e found i„-, h,„,, aink "had • ■:, f""" °""'""""' ""'' _P"Vem The truth i, hi , Idv ™""""' '«"''"' ""'I -i... ita ao„,.„e in .leiielc ' "l:;;:r"^'-^l«'™dH., 'itgest.on, oo,nl,ined with tl,oi„fl °"''"'"""" '""I weakness „f ;"«-, '' '«.™ to* :;,:::: ;:'"-"■>'■>■ »-■■■-■•'• t'S io- ly chan,l,e„ in tho Temnl , "' ^'''"«""nt in -ooiation, as we have seel 'Tel "^T f"" T"' """ When Us crisis amved, he w„ liw! , ■ " "'''"'Soli^l. -cietyof the kind that suited him i',;:'""""' "'"'°"' »->- Nonsense Clnb was sum t„ h„ f n , ""'■"''ment of the '»»' l.i» love, his fatie , h tlTjf "" ""'"""> ^ '""'-i "'- W™c'; his little p t* ,onTl ;' r," ''""'"™=' "'- " ".-t have •..„„;«,'„, ,J^.f ";^ f-'J-...ilins,away,. he 0"tlook „,„ ,., ,, „. , ^"'"1^ '» h" IHofession; ,„,, ,„., »'-'; i.vp«... ,.. ., ,„ ,f^ „^,„f « '" t<.e ...nedies to and went with May. Jt, „„„ ' ', '"""" ""'' January y Sathe,.„,g g,„„„ „^ j.^^^_^|j^^ ^^^ y I -I it COWPER. 19 tiiim by a Hhruli in fiii« weatlicr on the IiIIIh above SouUi»in|it«»ii WuttT uii'l Ctj'.vj)«r Hiiicl ihiit he w»i« iiMvor iiuliii|i|»y for u wliol( day in the coinpaiiy of fiady Iffskcth. When ho hiul ')' come Ji Methodist, iiis hypochondria took a nli;,'iou8 form, but so did hiH recovery from hypochondria; both must be sot down to the account of liis faith, or neither. This double aspect of the matter will plaiidy appear further on. A votary of wealth when liia brain gives way under disease or age fancies that he is a beggar. A Methodist when his brain gives way under the same influences fancies that he is forsaken of Qod. In both cases the root of the malady is physical. In the lines which Cowper sent on his disappointment to 'i'heodora's .sister, and which record the sources of his despond- ency, there is not a touch of religious despair, or of anything connected with religion. The catastrophe* was brought on by an incident with which religion had nothing to do. The ofRce of clerk of the Journals in the House of I^ords fell vacant, and was in the gift of Cowper's kinsman Major Cowper, as patentee. Cowper received the nomination. He had longed for the office, sinfully as he afterwards fancied ; it wouKl exactly have .suited him and made him comfortable for life. But his mind had by this time succumbed to his malady. His fancy conjured up visions of opposition to the appointment in t)ie House of Lords; ol hostility in the office where he had to study the Journals; of the terrors of an examination to be undergone before the frowning peers. After hopelessly porin^ over the Journals for some months he became quite mad, and his madness took a suicidal form. He has told with unsparin'» exactness the story of his attempts to kill himself. In his youth his father had unwisely given him a treatise in favour of suicide to read, and when he argued against it, had listened to his reasonings in a silence which he construed as sympathy with the writer, though it seems to ha\e been only unwilling- ness to think too badly of the state of a departed friend. This m 20 KARIiT UFK. "" '"='"■'■"' '" I"" »"n.l, „n,l talk „i,„ oxs,,., . »■■«! «.e i„t,.„ti„„ „,. ,,„,,'' ''■".'«""« ""' into the 6..l.k ••".gS.««I ,,„„,,,„,. X "^''t""* ■•; ''l-" '1.0 love of lifr while 1.0 »■„» l„„ki „,^.,. ,; 2 ''""'' '" i""'' "!>; I.ut o.*,e,l tl.e c„aol,„,„„ ,, I, " t ' T "■ """" " ™'"° ''» '^ a'o- 1 .self i,„„ ,.r:L; b';::"- ™""' '-'»"''"•." more i„t,.,,,„«l, „„,|er tl,e g„i,e „f , "j?" "' "'<' »"» so»tod on tl,e q„,,y. A„„i„ ° ' "' ", ''"" "'!« "n"'' '"gl.t Wore ,i,„ 0:,y „,,„oi„ted f„, ,, " """>■ On ej,e L0..H he I,.,, «o„Ji„.'j:i,? ,f j ; -- '■•'!" '-f- the ag».n«t U„ l,e,„.t. b„t without cou,- ! ,'f .''?'"'"" ■"■-"J boon «v..d „„t |„, y,„ ,„ , ■• « ■'•-'on he .,e,.„,s to ],,„,„ b"t l.y „„,e .,cci*.nt. He ha, , ^^ ■ """' "'^ '■"""I"'!...,, g,.,te,. by which h. „, " „ : '77 "'»™»iM". -vh™ the 1^ 'i.e.ann,h..., who »„p,jrh-:'t't;;:::"-';i''' '■-"="''' -i-P*i-n,i„.tohL„:i':„ -l^,;" "■»' '-" P""'!, "..a ;vi.h ho„.,„. to the .«„,,, ,„.,e z: V :::; :""'■'• '-«■-<• COWPKR. 21 'P'l'i'oii.s ill aiiflition to Hs Jawlul. t'ike up a " Jiirn.solf, tlie fields ve of life Iftil. He 'gioti, and ^' "P; l)Ut cliiuiged, coacli lie Intend in f>- Ji'e once a poiter f's iu Lis •■ii)(] Was >S(>nal)le iiid her On the fore the pfossed Lastly to iiave >lutiou, ;r'"'°^^^''^^'- beams /lie fruitful year oontr,,]. Since first obedient to Thy word. He started from the go^. ^ Has.eheer'd the nations with the jov8 His onent rays in.part; ^ ^^ But. Jesus, 'tis Thy li,ht alone ^an shnie upon the heart. Once for all, the reader of P , mind, to .-..ouie eu in . ^^'''' '''^« ''^^^t "mke „„ J ■ ^ " "^ '*^^'t"""« ^o'n'« of expression. If J,"' ,oe3 k\ COWPER. 23 not sympathize with them, he will recognize them as phenomena of opinion, and bear them like a philosopher. He can easily translate them into the language of psychology, or even of physiology, if he thinks ht. A^ CHAPTER II. "ppy AT HUNTINGDON THK UNWINS. The storm was over ; but it had swept away a great part of Cowper's scanty fortune, and almost all his friends. At thirty- tive he was stranded and desolate. He was obliged to resien a Commissionerslii)) of Bankruptcy which he held, and little seems to have remained to him but the rent of his chambers in the Temple. A return to his profession was, of course, out of the question. His relations, however, combined to make up a little income for him, though from a hope of his fomily, he had become a melancholy disappointment; even the Major contributing, in spite of the rather trying incident of the nomination. His brother was kind and did a brother's duty but there does not seem to have been much sympathy between them; John Cowj)er did not become a convert to Evantrelic il doctrine till he was near his end, and he was incapable of sharing Williiini's s[>iiitual emotions. Of his brilliant com- panions, the Bonnell Tliorntons and the Colmans, the quondam members of the Nonsense Club, he heard no moi-e, till he had himself become famous. But he still had a staunch fiiend in a less brilliant member of the Chib, Jo.sej)h Hill, the lawyer, evidently a man who united strong sense and depth of character with literary tastes and love of fun, and who was throuL'hout Cowper's life liis Mentor in matters of business, with regard to which he was himself a child. He had brought with him from it Li Hi 24 Hit UXMTINS. lue asylum at St A ii "■«■». «nd „,,„ u, ,:;:,*:;:"-' "'■<- '"" -"-.-e- i.,, "»oo„tnl,„a„„. whi„ tt ' '^ "--'-..-..S to witW,l ««™d „„ a„„„3.„o„., leue,. "', ;■ T '" "«""""». CowpTr ;"''""« Wm not di»t,,„, ,2 ,e,f fe''t '" "- H-l-t ta,™ ''■om l„,s i„co,„o ,„i„l,, h ■' ' ' """ »lwf«v,.,- ,|^,|„ , ' -»w,ov., M,,.-;: , ;; :• '^^ '--,„„ ,„..;, ;™ •l'ct»t..,l ,,i» ,,.tte,, „„,, , ; ^'^^ '"' ie .U,.., J,. t,„„ ^1„ it is duo* to ( ^ ^ '^'1" uJl acts of kimhw',^ i ' ^''^ «ssi.s(ance of •"Hi becoiiiuio- tiii.,L-f,,i ""'"ess doim to him wJfi "^^■l-e^ or i,i, earthly „i ' ;^. '"' <;'""entn„.„t ,„„, ^.J <" ns d,,„,,ote,.. "''• "*'- withdraw ^11. Cowper '«st tenns, ' i'ediic(.i,j„ ^I'l^'iod by let. la jj viiew who le a style riit'ss that ■'^'ance of th sweet : fancies 'il S])iiit d checr- neiit of Josition •5y his 31' near ngdon, . an for iitinir- usand IS the Life il) COWPKR. 25 there, as in other English country towns in those days, and indeed till railruads niari; people everywhere too restless and migratory for coinpanionship or even for acquaintance, was sociauli; in an unrefined way. Thens were assemblies, dances, y.'xna, card-jiarties, and a bowling-greeu, at which the littlo world mot and enjoyed itself. From thesis the new convert, in liis spiritual ecstasy, of course turned away as mere modes of murdering time. Three families received him with civility, two of them with cordiality ; but th(; chief acquaintances ho made were "odd scrambling fellows like himself;" an eccentric water-drinker and vegetarian who was to be met by early ristsrs and walkers every morning at six o'clock by his favourite spring; a char-parson, of the class common in those days of sinecurism and non-residence, who walked sixteen miles every Sunday to serve two cluu-ches, besides reading daily jirayers at Huntingdon, and who regaled his fi-ieud with ale brewed by his own hands. In his attached servant the recluse boasted that he had a friend ; a friend he might have, Init hardly a companion. For the tir.-.t davs and even weeks, huwever, Hui, iii'fd.m seemed a paradise. The heart of its new inhabitant was full of the unspeakable hajipiness that comes with calm after storm, with health at'ter the most terrible of maladies, with repose after the buiniug fever of the brain. When first he went to church he was in a spiritual ecst.i.sy ; it wa: with diiliculty that he restrained his emotions ; though his voice was silent, being Bto[)ped by the intensity of his feelings, his heart within him sang for joy ; and when the Gospel for the day was I'ead, the sound of it was more thai, he could well bear. This brightness of his mind connaunicated itself to all the objects round him, to the sluggish waters of the Ouse, to dull, fe nn y Huntingdon,,, and to its commonphice inhabitants. For about t'.UT-e months his cheerfulness lasted, and with the help of books, and his rides to meet his brother, he got on pretty well : but then "the coiumunion which he had so long ^J.' r \ hll i (' 26 AT HUNTINGDON— THE UNWINS. been able to maintain with the Lord was suddenly interrupted " llHS .s lus theological version of the case ; the rationalistic ve..,on imnu.diately follows: "I began to dislike my solitary situafon, and to ical saint. Lady Huntingdon for its patroness among the aristocracy and the chief of Its « evout women." From the pulpit, but's till m from the stand of the Jeld-preacher and through a well-trained ariny of social jiroj^agandists, it was assailing the scepticism, the coldness, the frivolity, the vices of the age. English sod.-.y was deeply stirred; multitudes were converted, wbile an.on. those who were not converted violent and sometimes cruel aiitagomsm was aroused. The party had two win... the ^vangehcals, people of the wealthier class or clergvmeii of the Church of Kn,huid, who remained within the E^ablish L and the Methodists, people of the lower middle class or peasants' ^.e perso..d converts and followers of Wesley and Whitefield; who, hke their l.Hlers, without a positive secession, soon found U...msehx.s organizing a separate spiritual life in the freedom of Di.Hrovidences and miracles— i'rom a tendency to over- (Hr value doctrine and undervalue duty — from arrogant assuuiptionv^ of spiritual authority by leaders and preachers — from thi; Belf-righteouKiiess which fancies itself the object of a divine election, and looks out with a sort of religious com|)lacency from the Ark of Salvation in which it fancies itself securely placed, uj)on the drowning of an unregenerate world. Still it •will hardly be doubted that in the eflfects produced by Evan- gelicisiu and Methodism the good has outweighed the evil. Had Jansenism j)rospered as well, France might have had mort; of reform and less of revolution. The poet of the movement will not be condemned on account of his connexion with it, any more tiiau Milton is condemned on account of his connexion with Puritanism, provided it be found that he also served art well Cowper. as we have seen, was already converted. In a letter written at this time to Lady Hesketh, he speaks of himself with great humility "as a convert made in Bedlam, who is moie likely to be a stumbling-block to others, than to advanci? their faith," though he adds, with reason enough, "that he who can ascribe an atnendment of life and manners, and a reformation of the heart itself, to madness is guilty of an absurdity, that in any other case would fasten the iui])utation of madness upon himself." It is hence to be presumed that he traced his conversion to his spiritual intercourse with the Evangelical ])hysician of St. Albans, though the seed sown by Martin Madan may perliai)S also have sprung up in his heart when the more prQpitiDUs season arrived. However that may have been, the two great factors of Cowper'.^ life were the malady which consigned him to poetic seclusion and the conversion to Evan"elicism, which gave him his inspiration and his theme. COWPER. 29 i ruattoiH, ^f , »j \| o get rid'^ ^ ck'lusioiis . y ;y to ovt'i- >y siiiuptiony* fioiu tht.,l,e wo„l,l think w..„n. "t hei '' ■ , " ' '""'""" - I sahl lK.fo,-a, ha., in tbe most Jita " ' fT''"''"' "",''' letto... oo„.,,„hc.,,m: rToncoC:;.:;:''''™'^' "-^ wnto at tl,o Hrst mo,„e„t tl,at I iv h or !„' V"""; '° Her character .levelop. itself by de.„.e, '", ! '",' r°".''!'- .lis|>o«ti„„ to cbeerfalnesa ami mirfl T , ■"' " «"■" she co.„. not have ,one tir^rr;,:;!:"? , :' ^ r to time, and has a tn,. t ..T ,' '*" ""^"' ^''^'^ ^""e - M... Un,vi,. as an instinctive critt/anU ',1 'I'trLr^^l ™ch, „e havt „„1 ™™:"^'^' ,"?' "'"" "'-' -"I'l "-"» "•neiume. llie place indfied sw^i-nt; ,-;<' - cards and daiiein- •uv fl,« . »• , . "''"^ '^^'^" '^"e'"j and ,..^abitanj;rtisrr::rt:t:,:tt ;"--'|^ COWPER. 31 I m cmnr v[,o\\ '•' puiitiniical sooms to liave imist it Iiave !(' confiiK'inent t have uiulcr- >« one human ! him, because Ills to possess -'■f'"oment, J believe, ft is a matter of speculation in the place, whence 1 came,' and to whotn I b..long. Though my friend, you may .suppose, before I was admitted an inmate here, was satisiied that I was not a mere vagabond, and has, since that time, received more con- vincing proofs of n>y spmmhiUty ; yet I could not r.sist the opportunity of furnishing him with ocular demonstration of it by mt.o'it' iiotiKoliold 1 iin iJicidnnt lu? inopensity wpcr had in • littlo towns, ii inystorious 1 sd.icly. and out' till owing, lu! l>aik" on gave liiiii iin le afterwards Yon sen) my I icccptioii of Sliall 1 once ■■■ivt? Wliac idiiet wlien I at first, that ickly aftor I tli:it frintlul in a str.iHger i bring their itive, it is a mie, and to >l)Ose, before r was not a 1 more con- it resist tiie ration of it, sonnexionsj ,' wiiieji has ueationable evidence, to assert my gcntlemanhood, and relievo uie from the wei-ht of tliat ()|i^oi)ri()iis apjiellation. 0\\ pride! pride! it ^ (h'ceives with the siibth'ty of a seipc-nt, and seems to walk m erect, thongli it crawls upon the eaith. How it will twist and I twine itself about to get from nnchsr the Cross, which it is the glory of our Christian calling to be abh^ to bear with patience and goodwill. They who can guess at the heart of a stnuu'or, fS — "^"'l yo" especially, who are of a compassionate temper, will '% be more ready, peihaps, to excuse nie, in tiiis instance, than I can be to excuse myself. But, in go(jd truth, it was abominable pride of heart, indignation, and vanity, und deserves no better name." Once more, however obsolete Cowpor's belief, and the language in which he (expresses it may have become for many of us we must take it as his philosophy of liCo. At this time, at all events, it was a sourc(! of happiness. '-'J'he storm being passed, a qniet and peaceful serenity of soul succeedt^d;" aiul the serenity in this ruse was unquesKouubly produced in part l)y the fuitb. I was a stricken deer that left the lierd Long since ; with many au arrow deep inlixed My jianting side was charged, wJien I witlidrow To seek a tranrjuil depth in distant shade.s. There was 1 found by one who had himself Been hurt by tin; archers. In his side he bore An >>>■■ 34 AT OLNEY — MR. NEWTON. CHAPTKR IIT. AT OLXKY— MR. NEWTON. CowPEK had not been two years with the tJnwins when Mr Unwin, the father, was killed by a full from his horse; chis broke up the household. But between Oowper and Mrs Unwin an indissoluble tie had been formed. It see.ns clear" notwithstanding Southey's assertion to the contrary, that theJ at one tune meditated marriage, possibly as a propitiation to the evil tongues which did not spare even this most innocent connexion; but they were prevented from fulfilling their intention by a return of Cowper's malady. They "beoame companions for life. Cowper says they were as mother and son to each other; but Mr.s. Unwin was only seven years older K han he. To label their connexion is in.possible, and to try to do It would be a platitude. In his poems Cowper calls Mrs Unwin Mary ; she seems always to have called him Mr. Cowper' It IS evident that her son, a strictly virtuous and religious man' never had the slightest misgiving about his mother's position' Ihe pair had to choose a dwelling-place; they chose Olney in Buckinghamshire, on the Ouse. The Ouse was "a slow winding river," watering low meadows, from which crept pestilential fogs. Olney was a dull town, or rather village mha nted by a population of lace-makers, ill-paid, fever-stricken' and ior the most part as brutal as they were poor. There wis not a woman in the place excepting Mrs. Newton with whom M.S. Unwin could associate, or to whom she could look for heln m sickness or other need. The house in which the pair took up their abode was dismal, prison-like, and tun.ble-down- when the^v lelt .t, the compet.tors for the succession were a cobbler and a publican. It looked upon the Market Place, but it was 4 .V COWPER. 35 dns when Mr. is horse; tliis ler and Mrs. t seems clear, ary, that they itiation to the nost innocent Ifilling their rhey became mother and n years older and to try to er calls Mrs. Mr. Cowper. sligious man, er's position, chose OIney vas "a slow which crept ther villaffe. ver-stricken, There was with whom ook for help le pair took lown; when re a cobbler , but it was in the close neiglibourhood of Silver End, the worst pait of Olney. In winter the cellars were full of water. Ther<^ were no pleasant walks within easy reach, and in winter Cowper's only exercise was pacing thirty yards of gravel, with the dreary supplement of dumb-bells. What was the attraction to this "well," this "abyss," ivs Cowper himself called it, and aa, physically and socially, it was? The attraction was the presence of the Eev. J<7hn Newton, then curate of Olnev. The vicar was Moses Brown, an Evangelical and a religious writer, who has even deserved a place among the worthies of the revival ; but a family of thirteen children, some of whom it api)ears too closely resembled the sons of Eli, had compelled him to take advantage of the indulgent character of the ecclesiastical polity of those days by : becoming a j.luralist and a non-resident, so that the curate had Olney to himself The patron was the Lord Dartmouth, who, as Cowper .says, " wore a coi-onet and prayed." John Newton was one of the shining lights and foremost leaders and pn^achers of the revival. His name was great both in the Evangelical churches within the [jfile of the Establish n.ent, and hi the Methodist churches without it. Ife was a biand plucked from the very heart of the burning We have a memoir of liis life, l):)rtly written by himself, in the form of lettera, and completed under his superintendence. It is a monument of the age of Smollet and Wesley, not less characteristic than is Cellini's memoir of the times in which he lived. His father was master of a vessel, and took him to sea when he was eleven. His mother was a pious Dissenter, who was at great pains to store his mind with religious thoughts and pieces. She died when he was young, and his stepmother was not pious. He began to drag his religious anchor, and at length, having road Shaftesbury, ii;ft his theological moorings altogether, and drifted into a wide sea of ungodliness, blasphemy, and lecklessness of Such at least is the picture drawn by the sinner saved living 36 AT OLNEY — MR. NEWTON. ^ ?\ Of hjs own earlier year.s. While still but a stripli,,. he fell desperately in love with a girl of thirteen; his air.etion for her was as constant as it was ro.nantic; through all his wanderings and sufferings he never ceased to think of her, and after seven years she heaune his wife. His father frowned on the engagement, and he b<.ca>ne estranged from honae. He wis impressed; narrowly escaped shipwreck, deserted, and was arrested and Hogged as a deserter. Released from the navv he ^ was taken into the service of a slave-dealer on the coast of ^>^ Africa, at whose hands, and those of the num's ne^ro nnstress he en.lured every sort of ill-treatment and conLunn.ly, bein. so' ^ starved that lie was faia sometimes to devour raw roots to .^ay ^ his hunger. His constitution must have been of iron to car.v Ihim through all that he endured. In the meantime his ^indomitable mind was engaged in attempts at seli-culture • he studied a Euelid which he had brought with hin,, drawing' his diagrams on the san on a soul d its native I'dod but not ice was now >, and made lat it was a tys lie never communion n ter wards it '^ genteel and con.versaut Pi'ovidence ■^ i his delli ' 1 P ? """ ^"'""'^'^ had at once established th^^ .,0. j . "■•"J-ma s death, and over her ard P rJ "'''^'^^«"«3^ "^ ^ Powerful ch:....- t^r he. and Cuwper. He now beckoned the pair to l.i« side^ COWPEU. (I add it to the ■bus droj)ped a iway its tears, ven in him a Viis akin to it, If two angels iiand, and one ler to sweej) a ange employ- •irituality for hould be the eating heresy el vvitli tares; is attempts." >us, seems to ng of one of welt on the settled that ' l^orn, I am ne for after- e profession ts of Olney baskets of carried him nue in his counselled i'lg able to his voice, lile he can 39 placed them in the house adjoining his own, and opened a [trtvate door between the two gardens, so as to have his ^jiiritual children always beneath ins eye. Under this, in the most essential respect, unhappy influence, Cowper and Mrs. CTnwin together entered on "a decided course of Christian happiness " That is to say they spent all their days in a round of religious exercises without relaxation or relief On fine summer evenings, as the sensible Lady Hesketli saw with dismay, instead of a walk, there was a prayer-meeting. Cowper himself was made to do violence to his intense shyness by leading in prayei-. He was also made to visit the poor at once on spiritual missions, and on that of almsgiving, for which Tliornton, the religious philanthropist, supplied Newton and his disciples with means. This, which Southey appears to think about the wor.st part of Newton's regimen, was probably its redeeming feature. The effect of doing good to others on any mind was sure to bo good ; and the sight of real suffering was likely to banish fancied ills. Cowper in this way gained at all events a practical knowledge of the poor, and learned to do them justice, though from a rather too theological point of view. Seclusion from the sinful world was as much a part of the system of Mr. Newton, as it was of the system of Saint Benedict. Cowper was almost entirely cut off from intercourse with his friends and people of his own class. He dropped his correspondence even with his beloved cousin. Lady Hesketh, and would probably have dropped his correspondence with Hill had not Hill's assistance in money mattera been indispensable. To complete bis mental isohition it appears that having sold his library he had scarcely any books. Such a course of Christian happiness as this could only end in one way; and Newton himself seems to have had the sense to see that a storm was brewing, and that there was no way of conjuring it but ly contriving some more congenial o';cu|)ation. So the disciple was commanded to employ his poetical gifts in contributing to m if'i ril m i Hi 40 AT OLNKY-MR. NEWTOy. a hvmn-book wind. Newton was con.piUn.^ Cow„er'<, ;.ym..s have not any .Tious value as no.-Jv H v^ 7 ^ J'--. ^Tho relations of n,au with Drltyh^^fT'/ ^^poeticar treatnu..nt\ Th.-re is not , in '""^'^"^ ^'"' >^1>«^^ ^ oveative i.na.inatil oa^ ^o I ' ::^ "'j T" ^" 1'^'' *^^" ^ '--tI.anincens..oftl.worsln, r tul ^n" T,'' '"'*' church are the hest • nof 1 t "'" "^ ^''^ ^"^"t"' the .est (nn- th ^ 4 ^t ' biiH "'^'^ "" '"^^^^ ^^^^'^ ^^- ."ost sonorous clSl '"" *'""" ^"'^^"««- ^^ the ^.ody fbr whS, t ' r : !^;z t: ^^^^^'^^' ^^ ^'^ ^^^^^-^^ ^^eii.., and desires :.o^r:;:^:;::::™:r;f«i'^^^^ work of a ,eli^,io„» m,„ „,■ I,,,, '■"'°'»';"'l- Tliey are tl,e ^i wiW, e,:oUc, or^uneT,™ k r";,;:"', '™ f"'" ""-"''"'^ nothing, that wc can conceive a „„Jt t'l o '' °"''"' meeting „„,ift,ng to heaven with ,;,::;:" ^T llas pointed to s„„,e ,,a«a.e, „„ „.|,T , , ' ^"""'"^ advancing „aiadyf„ll«^„;'r„.h„t'" " °" °' "" of religious joy and hone Tl.e '" " '"'"'""'""noe -ies i3 ^.4'.<.o. ti-t,: ; :r ;s':'::: Y, f '^» ?»« Omtaway. ' "»e"'l'les that of Cow|,e,.'s n,eht„choi7 may have been aggravated hv ,1 , ln»en,i ,ee,n» to exclude the feelings bvS '"''''"'''''' "^ .as likely to bo fed. But hi., n.^e:,; ^L , Ct '" enough to account for the retnrn of 1,1. I- " "''"' -- -y Be ..ir,y I.id to tZ^':::2:^t ^ ^'- went mad. f;.neied as before that h: was . ^^ ^\ """^ cease,! to p.-ay as one helplessly doomed and "'""'' suicide. NevvtoM and Mr Uuwin T\ \ "''"' ^''^^V^^^\ as a diabolicid visi.uion, 'I^^^ .^^ n ^"^ ''''' ''^«^"- to borrow the phrase us d Z .„! ' ^:'"' ■"'^--i«tency/' phrase used I7 one of their fnends in the cas^ Cowpei's ^.aey Hymns rarely Ncoud and r^jjel^^ 11 on vvliicli tli(! IIS can be little ose of the Latin fcer poetry tlian liingnage is the hy the religious ^ of its Siuritnal They are the fiom anything Jiand there is lofty devotion, even a pijiyer- 'art. Soiithey I'adow of the pre.lominance liyniu of the mbles that of "1 J>y the loss ,;= 1 '""'° '■«■ I'.g u, „„ "";;•; '•>' «•'"."« I.i3 attention to Browne, a Di«„te. who I, ,1 ™° "» "'"« »< Simon --'JeMhedi.p,.,,,™,,;;'; ;;-.ve,, the idea that, bein ! °f );.» .ationai ,»,i„, ,„, , '^^ ^, ^"•' ''-» enti„l, Jeprive-I He ha,| accordingly ,.e»ig,„., ,, J" '^"•'^^y ^" an ., „,.t„,„ *' :™'' "■q""e„,.e„«„,!^,„™; '"' 7". -»« doing „„ai,„ Urn theologj. fel, „„,,,,. ^I;^ He seen,, t„h„„ .^ -■■te some theologic, treati "rtSf?' 'r,"" P™»*"o, Ca,oI,„e, calling her Majest/s „tre„tl ! ;'""'""' "> «»-" the «„tho..hi,, as the Isfrel'tn ."• ''"S"l""t.v. of ■■e.gn. Cowp.., however, instelTlf 1 1,.'""""""""" °' '""■ '!■»'" "f --oning, and bei, , e"', '"'""« >>"o the desired snnilar illusion i„ himself „e!el ""'"""*<> «i'tence of » pretended ri™, i„ ,,iritua affilonlT '"l ■='"'» "^ «- te far the ,n„,e de„lorable of ICZo "' ""^ °" »- «» Before the decided course of r. .■ again to culminate in madnegs foT" '"" '"I''''"™ had time «" Olne, for St. Mar, Cnt "" H " '■°" °°"'"-' «-"" '«t by a qnarrel „i,h his bart,' """ '''"™ ""V at -l"ch did hi,„ credit. Tflt b.^" "r""'"""-''' "'" «-» f'l ">-..v of it, straw th^c'dt:; °' °'"°^' »"<' "-t a tl.e extinction of the fire rXr . ="""■ '''»■"'" "^eribod remove the eartidy eause of s ^ "^/.."''^ »"" trie ;ed to Queen Angularity of ^'^on of her tbe vlesired istence of a '""m of the own case to ' bad time 3r, Newton n away at le cause of icJ burnt a 1 ascribed -I', but he tried to ittinor an oveniber. "^rbaiians I ose upon him, and he had a narrow escape from their violence. We are reniincied of the case of Cotton Matlier, who, after being a leader in witch-burning, nearly sacrificed his life in - combating the fanuticism which opposed itself to the intro- duction of inpculajtion. Let it always be remembered that besides its theological side, the Revival had its philanthropic and moral side; that it abolished the slave trade, and at last slavery; that it waged war, and effective war, under the standard of the gospel, upon masses of vice and brutality, whicu had been totally neglected by the torpor of the Establish- ment ; that among large classes of the people it was the great civilizing agency of the time. l^ewton was succeeded as curate of Olney by his disciple, ■^ ■ and a man of somewhat the same ca^it of mind and character, Tliomas Scott the writer of the Commentary on the Bible and The Force of Truth. To Scott C'owper seems not to have greatly taken. He complains that, as a preacher, he is always scolding the congregation. Periiaps Newton had foreseen that it would be so, for he si)ecially commended the spiritual son whom he was leaving, to the care of the Rev. William Bull, of the neighbouring town of Newport Pagnell, a dissenting minister, but a member of a spiritual connexion which did not stop at the line of demarcation between Nonconformitv and - ' the Establishment. To Bull Cowper did greatly take; he '^^*^ extols him as " a Dissenter, but a liberal one," a man of letters and of genius, master of a fine imagination— or, rather, not master of it -and addres.ses him as Carissime Taurorum. It is rather singular that Newton should have given himself such a successor. Bull was a great smoker, and had made himself a cozy and secluded nook in his garden for the enjoyment of his pipe. He was probably something of a spiritual as well as of a physical Quietist, for he set Cowi)er to translate the poetiy of the great exponent of Quietism, Madame Guyon. The theme of all the pieces which Cowper has translated is the i Jn III 44 AUTMOKSmp, THE MOKAL SATIRES. Kuman Catholic clanoh s.nce the days of Thomas 4 Kempk CHAPTER IV. AUTHORSHIP. THI.: MOHAL SATIRES. SINCE his recovery, Cowper had been looking out for what I'e n.cst needed, .i pleasant occnpation He trie 1 T oarpent^rin., l. thattbere ,8 no mention of Wesley. B„ t Cowper belonged to the Evangelical ratl.er than to the Methodist section. It u.ay be doubted whether the living Wiatefield would have been much to his taste. In the versification of the moral satires there are frequent faults, especally m the earlier poenus of the series; t'ou.h Cowpe,s power of writing nn.sical verse is attested both by the occiisional poeoiB iiml liv TIte Tiuk With Se Mo,-al S,ui,v, umy be couiile,!, tl„„,,,l, written later Hrocnum, or a Review of School.. Hero Cow,,e,- 1,.„ tl,e .u v,.n,,ge of treating „ «„,,je„t wl.iol. ,,e „„.,e, t«„d. about ea est "Tbere „ a stn,.," he says, "in ve.se tbat prose ther has nor can have; and I do not know that schools in the gross, and especially pnblic schools, have ever been so ■ p.st, an abon,n,al,„n, and it is Ht that the eves and nos,., o .»nk,nd shonld he opened if possii.Ie to p„r;cive if hI .lescr,pt.ons of the miseries which children in his day ^nhn^d and, ,n sp.te of all onr ^.nprove.nents, „,„st still to soie e. e,^ end„™ .„ boarding ,„h„ols, .„d of the effect of the systl n estranging boys fron. their pa,.„b and deadening ht" affect,o„s, are v,„d and true. Of course the Public Sch"! ».se„, was not to be overtnrne.l by rhy.ning, hnt the autl^ o/.,wm.™ awakened attention :„ its fanUs, „nj probabiv hd so„,etb,„g towards an.ending then,. The best lines, .erl™! ' Lave been already quoted in connexion with the bistort „ X »r,ters boyhood. There are, however, other telling paHe ^^^, on the indiscri^inat, use of e._„,;tirnT:, Our puWif. hires of pueriio resort That are of chief and most approved report, To such base hopes in many » sordid soul COWPER. 53 s there are frequent the series; though is attested both by Owe their repute in part, but not the whole. A principle, whose proud preteusious pass Unquestion'd, though the jewel be but glass, 'j'hat with a world not often over-nice Kanks as a virtue, and ia yet a vice, Or rather a gross cninp mad, justly tried, Of envy, hatred, jealuujy, and pride, Contributes most perhaps to enhance their fame, And Emulation is its precious name. Boys once on fire with that contentious zeal Feel all the rage that female rivals feel ; The prize of heauty in a woman's eyes iVot brighter than in theirs the scholar's prize. The npirit of that couipetition burns With all varieties of ill by turns. Each vainly magnifies his own success, Resents his fellow's, wishes it wero less, Exults in his miscarriage if he fail, Deems his reward too great if he prevail, And labours to surpass him day and night. Less for improvement, than to tickle spite. The spur is powerful, and I grant its force ; It pricks the genius forward in its courae, Allows short time for play, and none for sloth, And felt alike by each, advances both, But judge where so much evil intervenes. The end, though plaut^ible. not worth the means. Weigh, for a moment, classical desert Agai'.ist a heart depraved and temper hurt. Hurt, too, perhaps for life, fo>- early wrong Done to the nobler part, affects it long, And you are staunch indeed in learning's cause. If you can crown a discipline that draws Such mischiefs after it, with much applause. He might have done more, if he had been able to point to the alternative of a good day acliool, as a combination of homo atiection with the superior t 'aching hardly to be found, except in a large school, and which Cowper, in drawing his comparison between the two systems, fails to take into account, i .Isilj 54 AUTHORSHIP. THE MORAL SATIRES. Ul , I- , i To the same general class of poems belongs Antl-Thdypthora which It IS due to Covvper's n^emo.y to say was not published' A m his lifetime. It is an angry p.^aninacle on an absurd book- advocating polygamy on Biblical grounds, by the R.v. Ma, tin ~ Madan, Covvper's quondan, spiritual counsellor. Alone amon-^ Cowpers works it has a taint of coarseness " The Moral Satires pleased Franklin, to whom their social philosophy was congenial, as at a later day in cen.mon with all Cowpers works, they pleased Cobden. who no doubt specially relished the ,n.ssage in Charity, embodying the philanthropic sentimont of Free Trade. There was a trembling consultation as to tJie expediency of bringing the volume under the notice of JohnsoP "One of his pointed sarcasms, if he should happen to be disj.leased, would soon find its way into all companies and spoil the sale." "1 think it would be well to send in our joint names, accompanie<-' Mrs. Unwin's influence produced the Moral Satires. The ^ n Tdsk was born of a more potent inspiration. One day Mrs. ^^^^''^"t^ Jones, the wife of a neighbouring,' clergyman, came into Olney to shop, and with her came her sistcir. Lady Austen, the widow of a Baronet, a woman of the worhl, who had lived much in , ' ^ France, gay, sparkling hud vivaciuus. but at the same time full ' '' of feeling even to overflowing. The apparition acted like masic on the recluse. He desired Mrs. TJuwin to ask the two ladies to stay to tea, then shrank from joining the pai'ly which he had himself invited, ended by joining it, and, liis shyness "iving way with a iush, engageil in animattsd conversation with Lady Austen, and walked with her part of the way home. On her an equally great effect ai)pears to have been proiluced. A warm friendship at once sprang up, and before long Lady Austen had verses addressed to her as Sister Anne. Her ladyship, on her part, was smitten with a great love of retire- %l 56 THE TASK. IM ! I ( ^ ■i 1 ^ § ^ *-_-* merit, and at the samn time with great admiration for Mr Scott, the ciuato of Olney, as a preaclier, and si.., resolved to fit up for herself '-that part of our great building which is at present occupied by Dick Coleman, his wife and child and a thousand rats." That a won,an of fashion, accusto.ned to French fj^i.s, should (;|,oose such an abode, with a pair of Puritans for her only society, seems to show that one of the Puritans at least must have possessed great powers of attraction Letter quarters were found for her in the Vicarage ; and the private way between the gardens, which apparently had been closed since Newton's departure, was opened again. Lady Austen's presence evidently wrought'on Cowper like an eiixir: '• F.om a scene of the most uninterrupted retire- ment, he writes to Mrs. Uinvin, " we lutve passed at once into a state of constant engagement. Not that our society is much multiplied ; the addition of an individual has made all this difference. Lady Austen and we pass our days alternately at each others Chateau. Li the morning I walk with one or other of the ludu.s, an.l in the evening wind thread. Thus did Hercules, and thus prol.ibly did Samson, and thus do I • and were both those hc-r.es living, I should not fear to challenge them to a trial of skill in that business, or doubt to beat them both. It was perhaps while he was winding thread that Ladv Austen told him the story of John Gilpin. Ih, lay awake at night laughuig over it, and next morning produced the ballad It soon became famous, and was recited bv Henderson a popular actor, on the .stnge, though, as its gentility was doubtful Its author withheld his name. He afterwards fancied that this womkrf.d ,>i.ce of humour had been written in a mood of the deepest depression. Probably he had writen it in an interval of high spirits between two such moods. Moreover he some times exaggerated his own miserv. He will ]uu,h, . j^.^-r --•*] a d§.J?ro/nnchs, an>'^"'<^ of with it, ol^o i r„,, .t :;":"-"'"""•,"— ".'i-o,n, the ateaming and iZ^: ^:"tCT rT'-r""'' book reml aloud th. n> ?' «^'eo.f„I circle, the ;-.he„„,ai:r;:!;d;rirL;tt:^S«;-- anu.U the „,„Jh of Z^^ 2jZ T l"" ^'"T" ""■"*'''""" «ho,.o his stonn-tost l,a, ,„<.•■ b'.u""' ™°''"' "" *« "t the, |,res„nt tl,«n,selvo, i, L T! ^ '"■' '""" •'''^»' "nJ »n.l tl,e B„«et 1^ b C, , 'ITnoTh " '""" "' "'""""«" «n, more than .he, ,„ ^Z, °'" •"■ •"""' ^""""-^ The wol]. known dussiwo »*• +7 A' • , /''i^^^'iges at the opening of 7%^ ir,-^/ Aveiuw/, n.ye thf* -olf ,, ,>f -.^ , ' ' "' -'''<' Winter » that so.,, eouid i:ir,:n,: ;r;ir;r ::„-:: COWPBR. 69 very difficult to depict to himself by tha utmost effort of his religious imagiimtion any paradise which he would really have enjoyed more. Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the cuit.iins, wheel the sofa round, And wliile the }>ul)l)ling and loud-hissing um Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That uhet;r hut not iiiehriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful ev ning in. • • * • This folio of four paijes, happy work ! Which not even critics criticise, that holds Inquisitive attention while I ruad Fast bound in chains of silence, wliich the fair, Thougli eloquent themselves, yet fear to break, What is it hut a map of busy life, Its fluctuations and its vast concerns ? » * • • ' Tis pleasant through the loop-holes of retreat ^ To peep at such a world. To see the stir Of the great Babel and not feel the crowd. To hear the roar she sends through all her gates At a safe distance, where the dying sound Falls a soft murmur (m the injured ear. 'J'hus sitting and surveying thus at ease Ihe globe and its concerns, 1 seem advanced To some secure and more than mortal height. That liberates and exempts me from them all. It turns submitted to my view, turns round With all its generations ; I behold The tumult and am still. The souiul of war Has lost its terrors ere it reaches me, (irieves but alarms me not. 1 ninurn tlie pride Au(. avariee that make man a wolf to man, Heir till! faint echo of those brazen thiriats By which he speaks the language of his lieart. And sigli, but never tremble at the sound. He travels and expatiates, as the bee From tlower to flower, so he from land to land !l '^1 60 ^h THK TASK. fi ii:: r< The manner., ou8t Shortening Jlr, "J''^"'"^' '"^^^*' ,--i-^i..h..:;;:^.::n\;;r::' Down to the rosy West P /. '^„^^''>' The writei- of 27ie 7\,,,l , ■the ,-.„ge of Tl,„,„so« is fc, wider h '':"""" ""'' ''■''"■"'«"'■ rri. rOWPBB. 61 moodfi, (^owptjr only in a few and thoHe the gentlest, tli(Mij,'h lie luiM said of himsolf thut ''he was alwaya an adniiit-i of thunder-storms, even bofore he knew whoHo voic(! he h«'ard in them, but especially of tlumder rolling over the great watiu-s." The great waters ho had not seen for many yt'ara ; he had never, so far us we know, seen mountains 'M'rdly even hii,'h hills; his only landscape was the flat c iititry . itered by thc^ Ouse. On the other hand he is porfec ly ^cnuiii thoroughly English, entirely emancipated from false Vi'iadianiMn, the yoke of which still sits heavily upon Thoni., , whose 'must;" moreover is perpetually "wafting" him away from thf> country and the climate which he knows to countries and cliuiat<'S wiuch he does not know, and which he ilescribcs in the .styk* of a prize poem. Cowper's landscapes, too, are peopled with the peasantry of England ; Thomson's, with Damon.s, Paltemons, and Musidoras, tricked out in the sentimental costume of the sham idyl. In Thomson, you always find the clfort of the artist working up a description; in Oowper, you find no effort; the scene is simply mirrored on a mind of great sensil)ility and high pictorial power. And witness, dear companion of my walks, Whose arm this twentieth winter I perceive Fast look' (I in mine, with pleasure such as love, Coufirm'd by long experience of thy wortfi \nd well-tried virtues, couM alone inspiit — Witness a joy that thou hast doubled long. Thou know'st my praise of nature most sincere. And that my raptures are not conjured up To serve occasions of poetic pomp. But genuine, and art partner of them all. How oft upon yon eminence our pace Has slacken'd to a pause, and we have borne The ruffling wind, scarce conscious that it blew, ^Tiile admiration feediu" at the o^e And still unsated, dwelt upon the scene ! Thence with what pleasure have we just discerned tHE TASK. The distant i)lou<,'h slow moving, aud beside His labouring team that swerved not from the track, The sturdy swain diminish'd to a 1)oy ! Here Ouse, slow winding through a level plain . ,\ Of .sjjaciou.s mends, with cattle Sjirinkled o'er, ^ Conducts the eye along his sinuous conise \>^ Delighted. There, fast rooted in theii- liank, Stand, never overlook'd, our favourite elms. That screen the herdsman's s.)litary hut ; While far beyond, and overthwart the stream, That, as with molten glass, inlays the vale, The shaping land recedes into the clouds ; Displaying on its varied side the grace Of hedge-row beauties numberless, square tower. Tall spire, from which the sound of cheerful bells Just undulates upon the listening ear. Groves, heaths, and smoking villages, remote. ! Scenes must be beautiful, which, daily viewed. Please daily, and whose novelty survives Long knowledge and the scrutiny of years — Praise justly due to those that I descrii)e. This is evidently genuine and spontaneous. We stiind with Cowpei- and Mrs. Unwin on the hill in the rufflinfr wind like them, scircely conscious that it blows, and feed admiration at the eye upon the licli and thoroughly English champaign that is outspread below. ^ Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilarate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid Nature. Mighty winds. That xwce.p the nkirc of some far-spreadinij wood Of ancient growth, make nntsic not unlike The dash of Ocean on Ma winding shore, And lull the spirit while they fill the mind ; Unuumber'd branches waving in the blast. And all their leaves fast fluttering, all at onco. N^- less composure waits upon the roar Of distant Hoods, or on the softer voice Of oeighbouriug fountain, or of rills dat slip OOWPEtl 63 Throwfh the cleft rork. ami cliiuiiiKj as theii fall Upon loo.ie jtehbles, lose iheviscloes al h mjlli In matte.d grass that with a livelier green Betrays the secret of their silent course. Nature inauiinate eini)loys sweet sounds, But animated nature sweeter still, To soothe and satisfy the human ear Ten thousand warblers clieei- the day, and one. The livelong night : nor these alone, whose notea Nice-linger'd Art nnist ejijulate in vain. But awing rooks, and kites that swim suhlitne In still-repeated eireles, screaming loud. The jay, the pie, and e'en the boding owl That hails the rising moon, have cliarms iiir me. (Sounds inharmonious in tliemsclves and harsh, '^;Yet heard in scenes wliere peace for ever reigns, llunf n ^hnrt, t.nhs, That fumes beneath his nose : the trailing cloud Streams far behind him, scenting all the air. COWPEB. 65 The minutely faithful descrijjtion of the man carving the load of hay out of du^ stack, and again those of tlie gambolling dog, and the woodman suiokiiig his pipe with tlie strf am of smoke trailii)g behind liim, lemind us of the touches of luinute fidelity in Homer. The same may be said of many other passages. Tlie sheeiifold here Pours out its fleecy tenants o'er the glebe. At first, progresaive an a dream they seek .J. The middle Hidd : but, ncatter'd by dn/rees. Jiuch to Inn choice, noon wJiiten all thi' land. There from the suu-burut hay-ficUl hoineward creeps The loaded vjain: while /ujlite/i'd of its rharye, vv^^^-ip"" The wain tliatlnet't.t it puHsen tiii'i/t/i/ by ; The boorish driver leaning o'er his team Vociferous ami imijatient of dela}'. A specimen of more imaginative and disriuctly i)oetical description is the well-knowu passage on evening, iu writin" Kvhich Cowper would seem to have hud Collins in his mind. ^ Come, Eveiiuig, once agaui, season of peace ; / Return, sweet Evening, and continue long ! Methinks I see thee in the streaky west, With matron-step ^low-moving, while the Ni.'lit Treads on thy sweeping train ; ^one hand employed jiu letting fall the curtain of repose J On bird and beast, the other charged for man * 'With sweet oblivion of the cares of day ; ' Not sumptuously adorn'd, nor needing aid, ' Like homely-featured Night, of clustering gems 1 ' > A star or two just twinkling on thy brow ! Suffices thee ; save that the moon is thine I No less thaiihers, not worn indeed on high / With osiyyiKitious pageantry, but set ;»>"** ' With modest grandeur in thy purple zone, Res^tei^ideut less, but of au ampler ruuud. I Be)'on JUS lehgious asceticism A-^ wlnle ho. n.fan ;:';"''? "^" ' Ami crowded knees si ' ' ""^«I"-o.i'l h.n.ls u iviiLtS, Sit COWerixr oVr fl. Retires, content to quake .n fi, t. '^''"''«- The man feels least !, ^ ^^ ^' '^^''^''^■ ^ebnski„.oveah,;r::^:;:-. t>angledalongatthe° .iC;; -- Just when the day decline.li r^ Lo%ed on the shciha f ! j "' '" '""°^ ^"'^ Of --o„ry cheese. ;hL:^^^^^^ Sleep seems thei,- ,dy f"; 7*'^?*'^^ (Where penury is felt tl , '• ^^^« "' ' ^".1 s-eet c„Uo,u I ^' ;''-oi.t is chained) ..■^" With all tins'- tin ffT'"' '"'•" ^"* ^^^^ ' '^"'' ^■'.«"iousi;:.:!;;::;s:M--\ ^"thecare, ^' Skillet, .nd old carved ches, from pnblL,,, ,v' COWPER. 67 They live, anci live without extorted alms FiT.m grudging hands : l)ut other boast have none To soothe their honest pride that scorns to beg. Nor comfort else, but in their mutual love. Here we have tlje plain, unvainislied record cf visitings among tlio poor of Olney. The last two lines are simple truth as w(dl as the rest. "In some passages, especially in the necond book, you will observe me vei-y satir-ical." In the second book of Thn Tosk, there are some bitter things about the clergy, and in the passage pourtraying a fashional)le preacher, there is a touch of satiric vigour, or rather nf that })ower of comic description which was one of the writer's gifts. P-it of Cowper as a .satirist enough lias been said. " What there is of a religions cast in the volume I have thrown towards the end of it, for two reasons ; first, that I might not revolt the reader at his entrance, and secondly, that my best impressions might be made last. Were I to write as many volumes as Lope ^le Yega or Voltaire, not - of them ' would be without iliis tinctui'e. If the world hke it not so nmch the worse for them. I make all the concessions I can, that I may please them, but I will not please them at the expense of conscience." The ])assages of The Task penned by conscience, taken together, form a lamentably large propoition of the i)oem. An ordinary reader can be carried through them, if at all, only l)y his interest in the history of opinion, or by the companionship of the writer, who is always present, as Walton is in his Angler, as White is in his Selhourne. Cowper, however, even at his wor.st, is a highly cultivated in-tliodist • if he is sometimes enthusiastic, and possibly superstitious, he is never coar.se or unctuous He speaks with contempt of " the twang of the coi^Lxeaticle." Even his enthusiasm had by this time been somewhat tempered. Just after liis conversion he used to pi-each to everybody. He bad found out. as he tells us ^ .J^ 11. 68 ... t / ; SI m THE fASK. 'liniself, that tl,is was . ...istnk- th-.t " i^ roc frieudi; : ,• ;'' ^'"•'"^''\ ^^^ ^^^^ -^k Hbroad were consciou.ne. : T^^ -' ve..sat,o„." J, ,,,, ,,,, ,^^„ ,.^ from taking Newton into his confide. •! t' '^^'--''^'•'•'^^^ ^"'" "Pon ne Tu.k. "Ihe worst iZ "" " ^'' '^"»'^^"' '-.atical antipathy to i.Z. , ^ ^ "" '^"^^ ^''" ^ ' ^^ - book , 1 50-n ; n : r""' "'""'^"^ ^^''^^ '- ^*- * '^"'-d and reputive ^""^"^'^^ *^««-th book, is also fanatical Puritanism had com,. t,)to ---o'^.r.!- « ii- • 'iron, ifo lisuleis, inolui „,, WesVi- I,:,... if drawn rather to tiie Toiy side. Cowpei' we 1 T ', ""'' '-axned in principle what he had\,;3rbo; .^ W, "'^ u.irevolntiona.T Whi.^., an "Old Whi-" . "*' ^'^ n»ad. ctnpnical by BuTke. ° *" ''^^'^^''^ ''^*^ P'"-'^«« 'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower Of ieetnig life its lustre and po,f,„nc And we are weeds without it. All oonsira--„t Wptwhatwisdou^laysoaavili.; * Is evil. The sentiment of these lines whicli were f t to Cobden. is tempered by judiciot J " '' '"'^ ^«'*^- ^i". who rules in acco^li:;^':::^/-^^:^ -^^^^^ Cowp^r was inclined to re-.,,| a,„ ^' ^"« 'ime as a repetition of that of Ch^ e I TTT' ^' ""'''''' '''' reactionary in the Ohtuch b„t tl"' "^ ''' ""''''' ^«d • • "UII.U, out the nro ,,-0, hoH'jver, that the views of the French Revolution itself expressed in his Ictlcrs are wonderfully rational, calia, and free from (he political panic and the apocalyptic hallucination, both of which we should rather have expected to find iu him. He describes himself to Newton as having been, since his second attack, of madness, "an exlminjundane chaiticter with reference to this globe, and though not a native of the moon, not made of the dust of this planet." The Evangelical party has remained down to the present day non-political, and in its own estimation extrara lindane, taking part in the affairs of the nation only when some religious obj(ict was directly in view. In speaking of the family of nations, an Evangelical poet is of course a preacher of peace and human brotherhood. He has even in some lines of ChnrUy, which also were dear to Cobden, remarkably anticipated the sentiment of modern economists respecting the influence of free trade in making one nation of mankind. The passage is defaced by an atrociously bad simile : Again — the baud of commerce was deaign'd, To associate all the branches of mankind, And if a bounrlleas plenty be the robe, Trade is the golden girdle of the globe. Wise to promote whatever end he means, God opens fruitful nature's various scenes, Each climate needs what other climes produce, And offers something to the general use ; No land but listens to the common call. And in return receives supply from all. This genial intercourse and mutual aid Cheers what were else an universal sh.ide, Calls Nature from her ivy-mantled den. And softens human rock-work into men. Now and then, however, in reading The Task, we come across a da-sh of wai'like p.atriot.isn, which, amidst tiio general pjuian- thropy, surprises and offends the reader's palate, like the tasto of garlic in our butter. |! ■ im 70 :■ ( THE TASK. miMltr"' ?'";"""' '^"'^^''^'' by religious asceticism of a mid kind such ,s the philosophy of m Task, ^M such the Ideal embodied in i\m nnifi..,-* r.e t-x. \ conclude, ^l V ' ' ''"''l'-' ""'" »■"'' "'>''«1' i' concludes Whatever n„iy l,e s»id of tl,. religio,,,, ™c...icta„ and gua.d it agmnst sell-doc-eit. Tins solitary was serving T,,e ne„spa,r t,n j:r: •:;, rrL\r ::L:;;::::r;;: ^«-/v.i 1 ,. " "ozen locks, fo the reclnse s ttincr com fortably by his fireside. The "f,«,r,.«nt i ^^'''""a com- uthpfuiV'f .u • ^' %'^ ant lymph " poured by the fair for their com,,Hnion in his co.sy s.-dusion hxs been brought over the sea by the trader, who'must en «n er moral dangei. of a trader's life, as well as the perils of tl stormy wave. It is delivered at the door by The waggoner who bears ^e pelting brunt of the tempestuous night, With hal .«hut eyes and puckered checks and teeth Presented bare against the storm ; and who.se coarseness and callpusness as he whins hi, f« the consequences of t„e „ard eailin, in ..«cht i t^r^ Z eclnses p easnre and re»„cment. If town life |,as i^t ,, from the cty comes all that makes retiren.ent com for, n!,' oivili.ed. Reti,.n,ent without the city J^uZTLTC^ less and have fed on acorns. Rousseau is conscious of the necessity of some such institution as slavery, by way of basi.s for his beautiful lif. ''' "^'''" "r:. :"!" ""'-« -"^ •■•■■" ^^^ w ""a:" and FircMwm avo a,.u*..: j ■ . ., , . "^ . ^'^nes j aul Virijin la are susta i'led by the labour of two faithf A weak point of Cowper's philosophv, tak 111 si; en apart from his ives. own COWPER. 1 savmg activity as a pofit, betrays itself in a soniewliat similar way. Or if the garden with its many cares All well repaid demand liiin, lie attends The welcome call, conscious how much the hand Of lubbard labour, needs hia watoliful eye. Oft loitering lazily if not o'er seen ; Or misapplying his unskilful streiif,'th But much performs himstlf, no works indeed, That ask rohust toiujh siiicwi, bred to lull, Servile employ, but such as may jimuse Not tire, demanding rather skill than force. We are told in The Taifk that there is no siu in allowing our own happiness to be enhanced by contrast with tli(! loss happy condition of others : if we are doing our best to increase the happiness of others, there is none. Cowper, as we have said before, was doing this to the utmost of his limited cai)acity. Both in the Moral Satires and in The Task, there are sweeping denunciations of amusements which we now justly deem inno- cent, and without which or something equivalent to them, the wrinkles on the brow of care could not be smoothed nor life preserved from dulness and moro-seness. There is fanatiiism in this no doubt ; but in justice to the Methodist as well as to the Puritan, let it be remembered that the stage, card parties, and even dancing once had in them something from which even the most liberal morality might recoil. In his writings generally, but especially in The Task, Cowper, besides being an apostle of virtuous retirement and Evangelical piety, is, by his general tore, an apostle of sensibility. The Task is a perpetual protest not only against the fashionable vices and the irreligion, but against the haidness of the world ; and in a world which worsliii'l Chesterfield the protest was not needless, nor was it intdit ;ave. Among the most tangible characteristics of this special sensibility is the tendency of its I I 72 'I'lR TASK. -"a.kcl M.sfances in so.ne ,,a.s.sag..« of The Task. 1 would not outer on my list of friends { .c.u,.l, .raced with polisl.ed manner, .nu tine eense Yot wa..t,ng sens.l.ility) ti... ,„au "'°'^' Whoneedlmly8et.fo„t„,.,„aworm. Ol Oowper's soMfinientalisin Ct„ ns,. »h« j • «mse), ,,,.„.t ,1.,v.,I fVon. 1.. ^'"'^ '» a neutral «A "W.., ,n„, winch wa« found lit Zj::':^ ''^ ^^"'^'^^ coM,,,a„ion.ship svitl. tI,o cruel frenzv n H P T ' "' '''"'^'«'- •^'-s u,s ,seve,.ai ti.nes that 1' ^ enl^tr'T. ^^^''^•• nor did he fail to produce in hi. f ""^ Rousseau, ^«^ot which RousseL ::: e t:rr"''^-^'t^^'"^ -'ny sentiu,entalis(H .ince and t'h, ^ . ' '"^' ^'^"^ «« worked, that it is <]ifHc„J to rl 7" ^'" ^"^" ^« "'»«'^ to the davin vvlnc pIsJ. ! 7"" 7 ''"' ^ the ^.... //.^...:! ofr I^ L^^^ ^T ^"« to read could be n,elt,Hl by T'/.e r«v/{; ''^°^^^ °^ *^« ^^rld mpturous ,M»,.,,., of „„„ „, ,,.; ,^°™» ™"J « he oo,„,,ares iu . To p,.d„OB „:ol„.ly „„„ ™,.i„,,_ :;,„';'"' °' » .1^- or*»n. fully of all He m,ou,-ce, of,, „om„l , ""■ "™"» Wmself «,«<' heard coi.a„ a„d Thu..,o„ .e.,„„e,u„ei; :™;:„t::rc- cow PER. ini.ils; anrl of of The Tusk. sense, ill a neutral fc, part Was wJiich was the Sorr(nm IS ill sinister >n. Cowjier f Rousseau, 3f the same ave been so fi so much magination alls to read the world 1- flf'fctered y imitates J 'ares in a ine or^;,/n. 's himself 'ok veise e ear, not sicai-box. t he had I'elations id heard nnexion. ith hini. Colman writiiifr to him "like a brotlier." Discip'f'S, youii<' Mr. Rose, foi' instance, eaino to sit at his feet. C'uinplinifntary ietteiH were sent to him, and i>ocrus submitted to his judguii'ut. His portrait was taken by famous painters. Literary lion- hunters began to Hx their eyes upon him. His renown .spread even to Olney. The clerk of All Saints'. Northampton, came over to ask him to write the vises ainiually appended to the bill of mortality for that parisii. Cowjier suggested that "there were several men ot genius in Northahn/ton, particuhirly Mr. Cox, the statiijiory, who, as everybody knew, was a first-rate maker of verses." " Ala.s ! " replied the cleik, " i have here- tofore borrowed help from him, but he is a gentleman of so much reading that the people of our town cannot understand him." T'.e compliment was irre.sistible, and for seven year.s the author of 'fhe Task wrote the ni(2rtiuiry verses for All Saints* Northampt. Amusement, not profit, was Cowper's aim ; he rather rashly gave away his copyright to his publisher, and his success does n-i eem to have l)rouiL;ht him money in a direct way ; but it brought l; m a pension of 300^. in the end. In the meantime it brought presents, and among them an annual gift of 50^. from an anonymous hand, the first instalment being accompanied l)ya pretty snuti-box ornamented with a picture of the three hares. From the gracefulness of the gift, Sou they infers that it came tVom a woman, and he conjectures that the woman was TJieodora. CHAPTER VI. SHORT P0KM3 AND TRANSLATIONS. The Task was not quite finished when th" influence which had inspired was withdrawn. Amonp' the little mysteries and w 74 SnOR, POEMS AND TKANhLATI0N8. ^ t< ■ -(^ ^tl^z;;::s::r ■■•"■"•- ^-- «-- - .j«.d ,0,. „f «« ,,„„ „„;;• u.ti,l': ;;:, r;: Tt J.lnoo l,„twoe,> tlie l,.,lv you vi,i,„,| :„ n "'' »„sci„u.,„f „„„ L '■ "7=*.I -'"""t now ,.e„oll«..U, oo«io„ to oUerve tl,„t ,he e.x,,,.e,,.J ' ,' "? '"'' '".'"""'''' of «„r ,.,e.t,, a„d bu,t .,„! 4,,;:;,::: ° ■™";;- «- friendship, as we were sui-p fl.«/« fi • , -' - "^-^ "i*^'^ our answer. I .,„ta to .^.rj l^ t^Jr;:,::'! ''"'"''''^ ■ memi W not to tl.u.k „,o,„ hi„l,ly of Si T ' ■ '''"°'- colours t,,ken f,o,n our own f,„cv "^,~'"'y' ".5™"t"ve win, P-ai.so it ,«,ona ic» real Zi :; t„: if™ f""" ^'^ nothing to expect in the en.l I, .tlTrri ^ , '" ' :'''''' »"<» '"^ tionof onrenor^^^Sr , l"lU4»m4W-«,„vio. But it gave n.o,-.. oH-,.„oe; ?,..:' Z^T"" """■°""""- such an „„,, a, J „„ ,.^ ,^ „,o, ,',',' "" "'"""■'■ '"" <--a»i,„po.i.,eit-.o„,r:r^r;:;er COWPER. 75 'owper ami fnoiul.slii|t 'U account 'e already f-liat took ^troet and Icn in tho «rvedne.ss "le house proposeci vitli your of inter k'ered, by s|)lea.sure olkrt it ; tt^ntions, law Was fnoothly tepeated itic idea pon our possibly ' recom- t would I'e with iie and id have hojies, eonvic- er, she Nation. ?v, but ended ndship that bid fair to be lasting ; being formed with a woman whose ; seeming stability of temper, whose knowledge of the world and great experience of its folly, but, above all, whose sense of religion and seriousness of mind (for with all that gai(!ty she is a great thinker) induced us both, in spite of that cautious reserve that marked our characters, to trust her, to love and value her, and to open our hearts for her reception. It may be necessary to add that by her own desire, I wrot(^ to her mider the assumed relation of a brother, and she to me as ray Hster. Ceu Jumns in auras" It is impossible to read this without suspecting that there was more of '' romance " on one side, than there was either of romance or of consciousness of the situation on the other. On that occasion the reconciliation, though "impossible," took place, the lady sending, by way of olive branch, a pair of ruffles, which it was known she had begun to work before tha quarrel. The secoml rupture was final. Hayley, who treats the matter with sad solemnity, tells us that Cowper's letter of farewell to Lady Austen, as she assured him herself, was admirable, though unluckily, not being gratified by it at the time, she had thrown it into the fire. Cowper has himself given us, in a letter to Lady Hasketh, with reference to the final rujjture, a version of the whole affair : - " There came a lady into this country, by name and title Lady Austen, the widow of the late Sir Robert Austen. At first she lived with her sister about a mile from Olney ; but in a few weeks took lodgings at the vicaiage here. Between tiie vicar- age and the back of our house are intei2»il«ed our garden, an orchard, and the garden belonging to tlie vicarage. She had lived much in France, was very sensible, and had infinite viva- city. She took a great liking to us, and »ve to her. She had been used to a great deal of company, and we. fearing that she would feel such a transition into silent retirenient irksome, con-- v ti'ived to give her our agreeable company often. Becoming continually more and more intimate, a practice at iergth >■ j!!|i .^ 11 76 SHORT POEMS AUD TBANSLATIOKS. oljt^ned of „,„. dining with each oti.er alternately every dav we n,a,l„ door, ni the two garden-walls aforesaid, by wWel mea,. we considerably .shortened the way fron, one honse to tl other, and couM n.eet when we pleased without enterin. tl " |»wn at all ; a n,easnre the rather expedient, because the low « abounna ,1, duty, and she kept no carriage. On herfct settlen.ent m onr neighbonrhood, I made it my own part cu la bnsmess (for at that time I w., „„t en.ployed in „riti,f. 1™„! l>"W,.,hed „,y fevst vohMne and not begnn n,y second! to , *»»r. to her ladyship every mornin/at ele^rc s r.e";^ soon became laws. I began The Tmh, for she was the IT T gave me the *„> for a subject. B^ing once^n^^e 1 '"1 worii, I began to feel the inconvenience of my momi^, " '" , ance. We had seldom breakfasted onr.«lves'tiU r^rr, e ntervemng honr was all the time I conid find in the ^hl 1 or wr.t,ng, .,„,! occastonaliy it would happen that the h I „f that hour was all that I could secure for the purpose Bt^t there wa, no ren.edy. Long usage had made th.t'wMch wa at f,™t optional a point of good n.anne,^, and conseouently "f necess,ty, and I w,« forced to neglect T,. Task t a« , 1°/ the Muse who had ,„spi,ed the subject. But she had ill-1 ea tT and beloro I had quite finished the work was obH„e,l U, Bristol." Kridentiy this was not the w ole ^.nt J ':,'"■ matter or the,, would have been no need for a f r Z, ,1 tl of ferewell. ^V e a.e very sorry to find the revered Mr. Al ex nde, Knox saying, m h« correspondence with Bishop Jebb th tt had a severer idea of Lady Austen than he sh uldt^:,, t' ! .ntowr,tu,g for publication, and that he almost sulfd she was a very artful woman. On the other hand, the un'se .tae^ tal Ml. Scott IS icportec to have said ■' Wl,„ , -"""""">■ :»' '-o -- ""'<' '■» »--X i-uioiCfrz' and quarrel, sooner or later, with each other i» ,.'°n what Mrs. Unwin h^ been to Cowper, and ^L he hlfZ COWPEB. 77 ' every da_>', munication, p by which ouse to the ntering the 16 the town n her first 1 particular ing, Iiaving to pay niy stoms very e Jady who ?ed in the ng attend- ; and the whole day ^he ]ialf of ose. But vhich was [uently of end upon ill-health, to repair nt of the I letter of lexander », that he sh to put ected she entinien- inrprised one man isideriiiff >ad been to her, a little jealousy on her part would not have been highly criminal. But, as Southey observes, we shall soon see two women continually in the society of this very man without quarrelling with each other. That Lady Austen's behaviour to Mrs. Unwin was in the highest degree affectionate, Cowper lias himself assured us. Whatever the cause may have been, this bird of paradise, having alighted for a moment in OIney, took wing and was seen no more. Her place, as a companion, was supplied, and more than sup plied, by Lady Hesketh, like her a wom;in of the world, and almost as bright and vivacious, but with more sense and stability of character, and who, moreover, could be treated as a sister without any danger of misundirstandiiig. The renewal of the intercourse between Cowper and the merry and alfectionate play-fellow of his early days, had been one of the liest fruits borne to him by The Ta^k, or pcrliaits we shoidd rather say by John Gilpin, for on reading that ballad she first became aware that her cousin had emerged from the dark seclusion of his truly Christian happiness, and might again be capabh; of intercourse with her sunny nature. Full of real happiness for Cow|)ei were her visits to Olney ; the announcement of her comin/,' threw him into a trepidation of delight. And how was this ' new rival lec ived by Mis. Unwin. "There is aomething," says Lady Hesketh in a letter which has been already quoted, " truly affectionate and sincere in Mi's. Unwin's manner. No o .s can express more heartily than she does her joy to have me at Olney ; and as this must be for his sake it is an additional proof of her regard and esteem for him." She coidd e\(i, cheerfully yield [U'ecedence in trifles, which is the greatest trial of all "Our friend," says Lady Hesketh, "delights in a lai,L:f table and a large chair. There are two of the latter comforts in my parlour. I am sorry to say that he and I always sprtad ourselves out in them, leaving poor Mrs. Unwin to find all the comfort she can in a small one, half as high again as ours, and V w ! 1: 78 ?» SBORT POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS. considerably harder than marble. However shp nvnf . •. • what dio 1,1- uc. *i i. 1 n "^''^®'^» She protests It IS What si e l.kes, that she prefers a high chair to a ow one and .•' hard to a soft one ; a„d I hope sl,e is sincere • in 1 TV persuaded she i^ " ai finceie , indeed I am ,? „ ,. ' ' ^'^^ ^^^^" '^ coarse thoorv of the " twn By Lady Hesketh's care Cowper was •.+ I.,«f f i " wf.ll " , + /^i , '-'"^[.cr was Ht Jast taken out of the already hi, M,-, „„,i M,.. F,o»^ It i, " ! "'"»■ ""'™ Whose well-rolled walks With curvature of slow and easy sweep, Deception innocent, give ample space io narrow bounds— with the Grove.— Betvveen he u,,right shafts of whose tall elms VVe n,ay discern the thresher at his task I Hunp aft.r thump resounds the constant tia.l 1 hat se> ms to swing uncertain, and yet falls HU on the destined ear. Wide Mi.s the chaff r^.e rusthng straw send. uj> a fragrant nii.t. ' Ot atoms, "•-->-'; ■• sparkli ug in the noonday beam. COWPER. fotests it ia 'w one, and titleed I am reason for f tlie " two til was not and inter- out of the a liouse at '!■ ground. I belonged and Mrs. they were s freedom > tlieni by treatment ston H.-iIl ' spoi-tive te 7ask: 79 A pretty little vj^rfn^e, which the threshing-machinn has now made antique. There .vere ramblin-s, i.ic-nics, and litMc dinner- parties. Lady Hesketh kept a .aniage. GMvlmrst, tl,e seat of Mr. Wnght, was visite.l as well hs Weston Hall ; tlie life of the lonely pair was fast becoming social. The Rev. John Newton was absent in the flesh, but ho, was present in the spirit, thanks to the tattle of Olney. To show that he was, he adolressed to Mrs. Unwni a letter of remonstrance on the serious chan<.P which had taken place in the habits of his .spiritual children It was answered by her companion, who in repelling the censure mingles the dignity of self-respect with a ju.st appreciation of the censor's n.otive.s, in a style which .showed that although heUs^jci.^^^ was f.ometimes mad, he was not a fool. Having succeeded in one great poem, Cowper thought of writing another, and sevei'al subj-ots were ^t&vted—r/Jjl/edi- ierrauean, T/te Four A;/es' of 2f,w, Yardle^j Oak The Madi- v / terranean would not have suited him well if it was to be troated ^^ J historically, for of history he was even more ignorant than most ' " of tho.se who have had the benefit, of a classical education bemg capable of believing that tlm Latin element of our ,'■ - language had come in wiih the Roman conquest. Of the Four ^ ' Ages he wrote a fragment. Of Yardley Oak he wrote the % ~ opening; it was apparently to have been a survey of the •■ ^^' countries in coniusxion with an immemorial oak which stood in i ^ a neighbouring clmce. But he was forcd to say that the mind ^-^^ of man was not a fountain but a cistern, and his was a broken one. He Iiad expended his stock of materials for a 'on-r noem in The Ta,k. ' ' These, the sunniest days of Cowper's life, however, gave birth to many of those short poems which are perhaps his be.st, certainly his most popular works, and which will probably keep his name alive when The Tu.sk is read only in extracts.' Tlui Loxs of the h'oyal George, The Solitude of Alexander Selkirk m Poplar Field, The Shrubbery, the Lmes on a Young Lady, 80 SHORT POEMS AND TRANfiLATION.r IM i and those To Mary, vvilj hold the.V places for . • . treasury of English Lyrics In iN J , ^^ '" *^« Cow,.,, had reason to co„,pla ^of ^J J'"" ^^^P^^^'-'^- J>i.s fables before hi.n One 2j , '' . ' '''"'"° "''^"^'^ ^« *''^i- i-fect .spontaX' l:^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^'^ ^^^^ published; and ffen.MallvH, . . ^^"^ '^'^''^ ^^^^er ei^usions of the^.::::; , ^^ :::f ^ ^^^ ^^«^ *^e ...le q-liet life. An ink-Hass flZ- ' ^''''' ^"^'^«"^« ^^ 1"^ fo»- Hinne., the killing 11!"^,"""' \ '^'"''"* -rved' ^p^ friend wet after a joun 1^ ?'; Z^ ''"''''''' '''' ^''"^^ ^^ ^ to elici. a lUtle jeto. poett i i ^1::,-"; '"^^r"' ^"^^^^ jet of all being Jo/^, Gilpin J d a / f "'' *"'^'^^*'^«* «till faintly live in two or tl* J ''""' ^^^^^ '^"'' t""c'> ^er i.u,sichord. soroVTsiirLr'^' ^? ^'■^^*^" ^«- 'ire poured from the darker Z, \ ' ? "' ""^ *^" °'^'^'' ^^nd tl- saddest. There J o 'ee onn ''' ' ""' ^' ^''^ ^^' - cuL attention to a seconder ,., ^f-^^''''*^«"« ""^-^ it be to -re importance. Th::^^^ : ^.^^l "^^^-^ *'-' ^'-se of the faculty of ingenious and u"^. cted '"T ' "'"^ "^'''' i« sl.own in the sinnles of Bu2>T '-■""'^'"-^t'°'>. ^^"ch as in large measure. "'' ""^ ''«««' «««d by Cowper A friendship that in frequent lita Of controversial rage emits The sparks of disputation, Like hand-in-hand insurance plates Mo..t unavoidably creates ' The though fc of conflagration. Some fickle creatures boast a soul I ';ue as a needle to the pole, Iheir huuH,,.... yet =„ various - 'l'nt served up le arrival of a iivver, sufficed a.n(l b)-i^xhtest ce and touch e written for e otiier hand f tliem all is iJess it be to I'an tijose of ■ailed "wit," ion, such as by Cowper COWPEB. 8l The needle's deviations too, Their love is so precarious. The great and small but rarely meet On terms of amity comjiletc ; Plebeians must surrender, Ai.d yield su much to uoble folk, It is combining lire with smoke, Obscurity with splendour. Some are so placid and serene (As Irish bogs are always green) They sleep secure from waking ; And are iudee>l a bog, that bears Your unparticipated cares Unmoved and without quaking. Courtier and patriot cannot mix Their heteiogoneous politics Without an eflervescence, Like that of salts with lemon juice, Which does not yet like that produce A friendly coalescence. Faint presiges of Byron are heard in such a poem as The Shmhhi'-ry, and of Wordsworth in such a poem as that To a Young Lady. Bub of the lyiical de|»th and passion of the great Revolution 4J0efcs Cowpcr is wholly devoid. His soul was stirred by no movement so niiglity, if it were even capable of the impulse. TendtMuess he has, and pathos as well as playfulness; he has unfailing grace and ease; he has clearness like that of a trout-stream. Fashions, even our fashions, change. The more metaphysical jtoetry of our time has indeed too much in it, beside the nietapiiysics, to be in any danger of being ever laid on the slielf with tiie once admired conceits of Cowley; yet it may one day in part lose, while the easier and more limpid kind of poetry may in part regain, its charm. The opponents of the Slave Trade tried to enlist this winning 6 82 SHORT POEMS AND TKANSLATIONS. voice in the sei-\;ce cf thai. " J'8 to a l,all,„l ,„et,,. (,„„«, 'u '.'7 "^ '«>"<>"» dunoins » "ul.ject l,„,,lly ct fo;,'',t '"' ""' '•'""'k'"-A0l au artist from "Wei. so 1„„„ a, lifr'° :,.,'' '■»" fl«'v. felLby a ,i„-i„g i-eident ocl/not f«a ' w " ! "'^ ;:°»' '- ia| ol.jcot of Kmitest facility) In.,te,.,i „r ,1 'f "'°''"°^'' "'■"' '''e • to tm,„latin.. Hon,,,,.. Tl.o t,- n ' '' "'"''"■ "» *>" «'»f, *« Pel..,. Ex,„..|iti„,.„,.', :::^^^-™- H— H,.to ve„„ ,■; ■ it not a version of Homer, but a pejiwiyged epic of the Augustan age. In his own translation he avoids Pope's faults, and he pi-eserves at least the dignity of the original, while his couimaud of language could never fail him, nor could he ever lack the guidance of good taste. But we well know where he will be at his best. We turn at once to such passages as the description of Calypso's Isle. Alighting on Pieria, down he (Hermes) stooped To Ocean, and the billows liglitly skimmed lu form a sea-mew, such as iu the bays Tremendous of the barren deep her food SttUiiig, dips oft in brine her ample wing. In such disguise oVr many a wave he rode, But reaching, now, that isle remote, forsook The azure deep, and at the spacious grove Whcic dwelt the amber-tressed nympli arrived Found her within. A lire on all thi hearth Blazed sprightly, and, afar diffused, the scent Of smooth split cedar and of cypress- wood it; il H I ; h III h «HO»T POBMS AND TRANSLATIONS. ^w.intJed tlio spacious cavrn H„ f . Home™ »i,„,,|i,i,j, gy„ ,? , °T ''"'"'■'''"'•™' f«.Iu.-e „ „„,, »,.„„„, ^,_,, *»'.«: «.m„j p.,3^,^„,, y,^ Tl.e real equivalent, if ,„y ;, ''"' ""'■>' "■ » ns«»t:,e way. some p„.»,„es i„ y,, ^ A'f '»' ,7'" of «.m,„n „„, r«;".o g.fte to i,i. „„,,, tt ;'"«'^ Covpe.- i„.o„g,,t ,,„„^ J":- wo* is; ti,e t,.„„»i„,io„ i, To 1' !. "^ ""' " *""« 0"«.n»l, Hum «,„ o„se cree„i„„ !, /. """'"^'i'"' of the -^0..., though „„ ,,e ..a„ -c:t:'S\°°:« *";«J^s rs. COWPEB. 85 iv« otA^'/;< fn the -Pai'f,ure from '««age in the !<^ntical witJj passages tJie "*t if Pope's >n\eviQ hexa- -^gative way. [^ of Scott, ^irmion and " about the ■ougJit such ve doten-ed ^t a failure P^rt of the 3\vs is the '•"(J under '»• delights iken from the shelf, he commends himself, in a certain measure, to the taste and judgment of cultivated men. In his translations of Horace, both those from the Satires iiud those from the Odes, Cowper succeeds far better, Horace requires in his translator little of the tire which Cowper lacked, in the Odes he requires grace, in the Satires urbanity and playfulness, all of which Cowper had in abundance. Moreover. Horace is separated from us by no intellectual gulf. He belongs to what Dr. Arnold called the modern period of ancient history. Nor is Cowpei's translation of part of the eighth book of Virgil's JSneid bad, in spite of the heavint^ss of the blank verse, Virgil, like Horace, is within his intellectual ranse. As though a translation of the whole of the Homeric poems had not been enough to bury his finer faculty, and prevent him from giving us any more of the minor poems, the publishers seduced him into undertaking an edition of Milton, which was to eclipse all its i)redecessors in splendour. Perhaps he may have been partly entrapped by a chivalrous desire to rescue his idol from the dispar age ment cast on it by the tasteless and illiberal Johnson. The project after wei^hinf^ on his mind and spirits for some time was abandoned, leaving as its traces only translations of Milton's Ijatin poems, and a few notes on Paradise Lost, in which there is too much of reli<'ion too little of art. Lady Hesketh had her eye on the Laureateship, and probably with that view persuaded her cousin to write loyal verues on the recovery of George III. He wrote the verses, but to the hint of the Laureateship he said " Heaven guard my brows from the wreath you mention, whatever wreaths beside may hereafter adorn them. It would be a leaden extinguisher clapt, on my genius, and I should never more produce a line woitli reading." Besides, was he not already the mortuary poet of All Saints, Northampton 1 j: I A 86 THE LKTTKR8. CHAPTER VJi. ^tto. a., pieces of fine^w^:! ':;;^'"" t" ^ ^'^^^ ^^^o- ^ ^I-'- Walpole, whoso le en ' ' *' '^"''^^^ -«"> o'- / jH'i'oIe are manilestly writtlnf "" ^""^ ^^" G^ray an/ Cowper have the true elJl . '" '^"'^''^"t'on. Ti,o«e o '-'-^'. '".ties, an;,:;^^^^:':^'"- '^'^ '-^ ---!^o: ^"""H.e. whereas all forr .,) . i,..^ ,, '^' -i^'i^raphy. pe^feotlv' t''e vehicles of the wn, ..; ^ T' '^ '^ ^"''^'•''- They a,^ "'"•••-■ "^' '- Hfe. W;;,;;t';^-''^-ii.'.s,a„/:: ^-e not wnttea fo. puhll : , Ln I '"''' ^'""^^^ ''^-* they outpounngs of wretchedness whii" "^^ '' ''"" '^^^ «- -n .nten.Ied fo. ,,,., ,,,^,, "' ^l T '"' P°"'^^>' ^-e a'*'>' ■5; J- lie V -^ use whotT ■ y ^- But ^>'' iend a i nplace. ;« ^f*. COWI'ER. 87 i/ Tliere is also a certain pleasure in being oai ried hack to tho ^ ^ quiet days bofnre I'ailw-iys and telegraphs, when people {)a88ed ."^ ^ their whole lives ou the same spot, and life iiiuved always in v JJ tho same tranquil round. In truth it is to such d.iys thatr,^^ letter-writing, as a species of liteiature belongs; telegrams ar - postal cai-ds Inive almost killed it now. \^- v^ The large collection of Cowper's letters is probably seldom ^ *^ taken from tho shelf; and the "Elegant Extracts" select^ I those lottfu-s which are uiost se^ijUiutious, and (herefore least^< chiiracteristic. Two or three specimens of the other style may not be unwelcotne or needless as elements of a biographical sketch; though specimens hardly do justicie to a series of which the charm, siieh as it is, is evenly diffused, not gathered into centres of luilliancy like Madame d.' Sdvignc^'s letter on the Orleans Marriage. Here is a letter written in the highest spirits to Lady Hesketh. Olney, Feb. 9th, 1786. " My dkakest Cousin, — [ have been impatient to tell you that I am impatient to see you again. Mrs. XJnwin partakes with rae in all my feelings upon this subject, and longs also to see you. I should have told you so by the last post, but have been so completely occupied by this tormenting specimen, that it was impossil)le to do it. I sent the general a letter on I\lunday, that would distress and alarm him ; I sent him another yesterday, that will, I hope, quiet him again. Johnson has apologize' ke, poor fellow", ^ "!„';' ''"^'' '"fe'^ ^ ...s. at ', i;™ 'lo "ck of tbe aa™„ aut":.. .'f '"'"" »^"«'» « o„i,,,oa'r transformed it. Opposite , ' """' " ''<"'■' <=>■■' iZi y: b„t a .,.e,X ' :XmV'""' " '■"•"• ''"'■"1 'uto '^"'"e pa.aly.io, it «.vea ™ . , * '""' ' '' "ntil ! anda,, myoiean ""-^ ^UnrrdrT. '7 'T "' """^^ tte furtl,e,. „nd of tiia a„pe.l, ve, ,,'t ' "'" '"'' i»"■»" *ill fin.l ti,e LT ™-l..ce y„„ to MraU: :;,""' ^<™. a-' wl„.r,!"lt ;■ ^y dear, J have told Ho,.,.,. > '"''•>'• --, and have aa.ed M« wj,:^'r/^" ^^ «.^o»t oasts „.,, •^rt of It Ht this lofc for y„„p j,Y^^ , we could easily '«d Unwixi, iiiul 0. My derr, 1 »■ beginning of i" "ot l)e ready "■'""^'frig to Us. '';"' '»"'s, and ■'*''^ ^^itli a bed ■«"ckl. ritten in the lowest spirits possible to Mr. Newton. It displays literaiy <,iace ipii ,} ie, Hi iLle even in the depths of hypochondria. It also shows plainly the connexion of hypochondria with the wtather. January was a month to the return of which the iifterer always looked forward with dicad as a mysterious season of evil. It was a season, especially at Olney, of thick fog comnined with bitter frosts. To Cc wper this state of the atmospheric appeared the emblem of Lis mental state; we see in it the cause. At the close tin; lettei slides from spiritual de.spair to the worsted-merchant, showing that, as we remarked i)efore, the language of despondency had become hal)itual. and does not always flow from a soul really in the dopths of woe. To VHE Rev. John Newton. "Jan. \3th, 1784. "My dkar Fhiend. — I too have taken leave of the old year, and parte.d svitL it just wlien you did, but with very different sentiments and feelinys upon the occasion. I looked back upon all the passages ami occurrences of it, as a traveller looks l)ack upon a wilderness tlirougli which he has passed with weariness, and sorrow of heart, reaping no other fjuit of his labour, than the poor consolation that, dreary as the deseij; was, he has left it all behind him. The traveller would find even this comRnt considerably lessened, if, as soon as he had passed one wildpir;«8s, another of equal lengtli, and equally desolate, should expect him. In this particular, his experience and mine would exactly tally. I should rejoice, indeed, that the old year If. 90 THR LETTK/tS. '8 over Hful ^one if T k j •iiie new year ,•„ „7 , r"""'""" "" acquaintance ^ i. ,,,„ ° "'''" '" •"« by '"' "" "■"""ced that, be « ! '? T?" "' " >■=« ""bo.-n «"«-«"-f ::::;:':;;:%'-» '■•'"■■'.Of: :.^ '» «l«ll find d,.|iv,,,„„ p°""'l"*"'^'««,tl,ati„deail, ">«.v bee:,.. :~y;;'.''' --<• 'l.e<.on,t &-«-'' s-t a d,,„rtr„f ;: "° '•'•■•-•'«"-biet,, ,:',,'!:"'"'' condition, IcoH,! .1, "'"'" »'"'' a sen»e „, "^ """.' ^"J telj n,e tl.afc this coJ.I rrl^ , ^''^®''' intensely v |"l'l'ointedfo,.tl,.. ,k ,:'r'"'^-! '■"■«; but no ,,'r '"H •seems m,) ,. -i, '**^ ^^'^nds in it T^. ■ *"ne is ^^r;rd:;-ffv''4-"^:c:^- ' °"''''"'"'""-bi';a„d,«r/. .'* 1: a prophesy ., new »"*• I am not, '« to boast by ^ ^t yet unborn, »'^7, not one of ^■«'» deatb its'If '^"^- It is an '^ '"Hn, that h« '' t'mt in deatli y Jif(3 is wiHi ■o"' a supposed ended. For, ««t out, pass I- dangers and WH a dungeon '«; ''utinso ^ especial I V of tny own Js an exact ^S envelopes ««iy- You yacbeeiful » siJiiitnal Mature Tile hedge! '^"■•st into! <^h time is d'^'fd as it/ '^er end of 1 which I "'■ a man '■^s ; long h iV :~ • COWPER. 91 •lie. My friends, I know, expect that I shall see yet again. They think it Jiece.s.sary to the existence of divine tiuth.'that he who once- had po.ssession of it should never fituilly lo.se it. 1 admit the solidity of this reasoning in eveiy cise but my own. And why not in my own/ For causes which to them it appears madness to allege, but which rest upon my mind with a weight of immovable conviction. If I am recovgiuble, why m I thus]— why crippled and made useless in the Church just at that time of life when, my judgmen , and experience bemg matured, I might be most useful ]— why cashiered and turned out of service, till, according to the course of nature, there is not life enough left in me to make auunuls for tb.' years I havo lost,— till there is no reasonable hope left that the IVuit cm ever pay the expenses of the fallow? I forestall the answer:— God's ways are mysterious, and He gi-eth no account of His matters— an answer that woidd serve my purpo.se as well as theirs to u.se it. Th' re is a mystery in my de.v.ruction and in time it shall be explained. ' «' I am glad you have found so much hidden treasure ; and •3. Unwin desires me to tell you that you did her no more -Min justice in believing that she would rejoice in it. It is iK.t easy to surmise the rea.son why the n-vereud doctor, your predecessor, concealed it. B.iing a subject of a free government, and I suppose full of the. divinity nuwt in fashion, he could not fear lest his riches should expose him to persecution. Nor can I suppo.se that he held it any disgrace for a dignitarv of thef church to be wealthy, at a time when churcbmen in' general' spare no pains to become so. But the wisdom of sonic men| has a droll sort of knavishncss in it, much like that of a, magpie, who bides what he finds with a deal of contrivance, merely for tiin pleasure of doing it. " Mr.s. Unwin is tolerably wdl. She wishes me to add that ' -~^-o-" -'' •" ' - c-!., It, wh.^n i.ii opportunity offers, she will give the worsted-merchant a jog. We con- 9^ THE LETTKRS. 'y gratulate you tJmt EH.u -loos not grow worse wlnVf, T 1 70U expoo.., won,., .. tho easo i,f ,he oZ 'oT J:r Present our love to Iier. Kei.iP.nl.er ns fn ^ u t u -ure yourself that we re.ain ^ Cluri/lfi't. ^'■'^""' "'"' "Yours, * " W. 0. "M. U." To THE Eev. William TJnwin mformat.on Is not yet conu, Mr. Newton iLinJ nLl^ -^ week more than usual since his last writin. Whenff ' .tfavourably or not, it ,s„all he con.nnu.cat:a to y 1::T2 not very san.u.ne in n.y expectations fron. that quarter V lea^^ed an..l very^itioal i.^^a^ha^Uud^ He I""^ perhaps treat me witl, ]<,vitv for the ^nQ^TmT^ k "^ «„.y,u»,.„ .o,,,p„..„M think. „n, ■::x:l:^etc^^^ Though all doctors „uy „ot be of lh„ «,„„„;,,] Z ~ ^r Xv .V^u^om!*^ y>- Fft-' '>x^- " It is a sort <;f paiudox, but it isrrue : we are never more in danger than wlicn we think ourselves most secure, nor in reality more secure than wlien we soeiti to bo most in danger. Both sides of this apparent contradiction were lately verided in my experience. Passing fiom the greenhmiae fo the barn, [ saw three kittens (for we have so many in our retinue) looking with fixed attention at something, which lay on the threshold of a door, coiled up. I took but little notice of them at first; but a loud hiss engag;>(i me to attend more closely, when behold — a viper! tie largest I remember to have seen, rearing itself, darting its forked tongue, and ejaculating the afore-mentioned hiss at the nose of a kitten, almost in contact with his lips. I ran into the hall for a hoe with a long handle, with which I intended to assail him, and reiurning in a few seconds missed him: he was goni', and I feared had escaped me. Still, however, the kitten sat watching immovably upon the same spot. I concluded, therefore, that, sliding between the door and the threshold, he had founfl his way out of the garden into the yard. I went round immediately, ami theic found him in close conversation witli the old cat, whose curiosity being excited by so novel an appearance, inclined her to i)at his luM(i re|ieatedly with her fore foot; with her claws, however, sheathed, and not in angei-, but in the way of philosojddcal incpiiry and examination. To prevent her falling a victim to so laudable an exercise of her talents, I interposed in a moment with the hoe, and performed an act of deca])itation, which though not immediately mortal proved so in the end. Had lie slid into the passage.s, where it is dark, or had he, when in the yard, met with no intenu|)tion from the cat, and secreted himself in any of the outhouses, it is hardly possible but that some of the family must have be ii bitten; ho might have been trodden upon without being perceived, and have slij)[)(Hl \. V y \ m' il i 94 THK LKTTICRS. fo«7 ^ ^ "''^""'' ''"''' '•""« ^«^' clistJnguished what ...i wounded hi^. Tln.eo .oa.-s a,o we ,lis;ov...ed one ^ tl.« an.o place, wh.ch the barber nlew with a trowel Our proposed removal to Mr. S,nair.s was. as you suppose a ,).-.st, or rather a joco-sorious matte,-. We never loo J it as entirely frasihle vet w« « • ^"'''^' '^o^ed upon ,.,...f.-. IT. •'^,,^^^"*'' y^^ '^e saw in It somothin^ „o like P..act cab,hty, that we did not estceu. it alto-.ther «»:« U of our a^U.nt,on. It was one of those prc^ .ts which pe^Z ^^^ ma. n.at.ons play with, and admire for a few c .vs .nd 2 break ,n piece.s. Lady Austen returned on Th ;; y r^^ Londo., where she spent the last fortnight, and whi^/Z jease. fehe lias now, therefoif. nr. i, any connexion with the -reat citv sh« J. '"^' "^ ^"^y^'' .8 to be at tlie vicai„^e, wl,„,e si,,. !„, ,,:,. i ^' °''° *e want, which «h;;ii, e„b: I ,',::: ,,:°T "^ »nd which .,,e »in 000,,,,,, as .„„„ „, the „ , JT: v.* „,a„<. „h„,„ „e 'visited last , II: „:rr'" hand, three v„I„„,e, „f F,,„„t ^^^ I ' ' - » ",, nothin. to ao With h;: z::i zz::::'::^z only French verae I ever read that I found a™ l,le ,V » neatness in it equal to that which we a m,K ,d w ,1,' '' " reason in the eon.positions of Prior T h T '" "'""'' anea, l sha.l {.resent to Mr V,u]] n ■ i. admirer, rode twenty miles to see . • '' "' V^-^^on^^ iiy miles to see her picture in the house of » . OOWPER. 96 fitrnn2;''r, which stranger politely insisted on liiH acceptance of it. luid it now hangs over his parlour chimney. It is a striking portrait, too characteristic not to he a strong rpseinhlaiici", and were it encompassed with a glory, instead of being drtsssed in a nu.i's hood, might pass for the face of an angel. "Our mci'dows are covered with a winter-flood in August ; f] the ruslies witli which our hottuinless chairs were to have heenA nj^ bottomed, and much hay, «■' icli was not carried, are gone down I '' the river on a voyage to l<]ly, and it is even uncertain whether \ they will ever return. Sic tiansit gloria niundi 1 ^ "I am glad you have found a curate; may he answer I Am happy in Mrs. Bouverie's continued approl)ation ; it is worth while to write for such a reader. Yours, " W. C." The power of imparting interest to commonplace incidents is so great that we read with a sort of e.xcitement a minute account of the conversion of an old card-tabU; into a writinsr and dining-tal)l(', with the causes and consequences of that momentous event; curiosity having been first cunningly aroused by the suggestion that the clerical friend to whom the letter is addressed might, if the mystery were not explained, be haunted by it when he was getting into liis pulpit, at which time, as he had told Cowper, peiplcxing questions were apt to come into his mind. A man who lived by himself could have little but himself to write about. Yet in these letters there is hardly a touch of offensive egotism. Nor is there any querulousness, except that of religious des[»()ndency. From those weaknesses Cowper was free. Of his proneness to self-revelation we have had a specimen already. The minor antiquities of the generations immediately preced- ing ours are becoming rare, as compared with those of remote ages, because nobody thinks it worth while to preserve them. X Sf-i I! in It I] U i i IF I'l i !| i « ^ 96 THE LKTTRBS. V I It is almost as eivfly to get a personal memento of Piiam or Nii»i-otl as it ia to get a Ijarpsichoid, a spinning wlicel, a tinder-hox, or a scratcli-back. An E-yptian wig is attainable, a wig of the (Georgian era is hardly so, much less a tie of the Hcgency. So it is with the scenes of ooninion life a century or two ago. They are being lost, l.t-causo they wore familiar. Here are two of thorn, however, which have limned themselves with the disiinetness of the camera obscura on the page of a chronicler of trifles. To TUK Rkv. John Nkwton. "JVov. ]7th, 1783. "My dear Fuiknd,— The country round is much alarmed with ai.prehensions of lire. ' Two have happened since that of Olney. One at Hitcliin, wheie the .laniage is said to amount to eleven thousand i)0und3; and another, at a place not far from Hitchin, of which I havcf ncjt yet learnt the name. UMeiH have been dropped at Bedford, threatening to l)urn the town j and the inhabitants have been .so intimidated as to have placed a guard in many parts of it, scneral ni-lits i)ast. Since our conflagration here, we have sent two women M.nd a boy to t\w justice, tor deiJiisJiltiou ; S. R. for stealing a piece (,f beef, which, in her excuse, she .said .she intended to take care of! This lady, whom you well remember, escaped for want of evidence; not that evidence was wanting, but our men of Gotham judgeil it unnecessary to send it. With her went the woman 1 mentioned before, who, it seems, lias made some sort of pn^fession, but upon this occasion allowcnl herself a latitude of conduct lather inconsistent with ic, liaving filled her apron with wearing apparel, which she likewise intended to take care of: She would have gone to the county gaol, had William Eaban, the baker's son, who prosecuted, insisted upon it; but he, good-naturedly, though I think weakly. interpose.I in her favour, and begged her ofi'. The young gentleman who 1 COWPKR. 97 accompanied those fuir ones is tin; junior son of Mully iJoswell. lie had stolen some iron-work, the property of Uriggs the J butcher. Being convicted, he was ordered to l)e whi[)ped, which -' oi)eration lie underwent at tlie cart's tail, from the stone-house to the high arch, and hack again. He seemed to show gn-at fortitude, but it was all an inipoHition upon the pul)lic. The beadle, who performed it. had filled his left hand with yellow ochre, through which, after every stroke, he drew the lash of his whip, leaving the appearance of a wound upon the skin, but in reality not hurting him at all. This being perceived by Mr. Constable U., who followed the i^cadle, he applied his cane, without any such management or precaution, lo the shoulders of the too merciful executioner. The sc<-ne immediately became more interesting. The beadle could by no means be prevailed upon to strike hard, which provok.-d the constable to strike harder; and this double Hogging continued, till ii hiss of Silver-End, pitying the pitiful beadle thus i.ullcring under the hands of the jtitiless constable, joined the procession, and placing herself immediately behind the latter, seized him by his capilliiry club, antl pulling him backwards by the same, slapped his face with a most Amazon fury. This i-im^iiUmn^oii ^f e\;ents has takiiu up more of my paper than I intenchnllt should, but I could not forbear to inform you how the . Ho thrashed the thief, the constable the beadle, and the lady the constable, and how the thief was the only person concerned who suffered nothing. Mr. Teedon has been here, and is .rone again. He came to thank me for .some left ofl" clothes. In answer to our inquiries after his health, he niplied that he had a slow fever, which made him take all possible care not to inflame his blood. I admitted his prudence, but in his particular instance, could not very clearly discern the need of it. Pump water will not heat him^ in.uoh; and, to .speak a Htt'o in hi.s own style, more inebriating fluids are to him, I fancy, not very attainable. He brought us news, the tiuth of which, hovyever ill ::: i n THB LKTTKRS. ■^.s I do not vouch for, tlmfc the town of Roil ford was Hctually on file y«'stei(lay, and tlie flamt'S not cxtingni.shod when tlio bearer of tlie tidings left it. "Swift oLsorveH, whon ho is giviiinr his reasons why the preacher is elevated alwiiys aKove his heiiiciH, that let tlie crow.i , be as great as it will below, th.-n; is always room enough" 1 overhead. If the French philosophera can carry their art ''of ^ flying to the perfection they desire, the observation may he reversed, the c-rowd will ho overhead, and tliey will have most '-room who stiiv below. I can assure you, however, upon my . own experience, that this way of tiavelling is very delightful- >^^ I dreamt a night or two since that I drove myself through the / upper regions in a balloou apd pair, with the greatest ease and , 1;;^ secnrity. Having finished the tour I intended, I made a short ^ tuin, and, with one flourish of my whip, dos.;ernled; my hoi-ses : prancing and curvetting with an infinite share of spirit, but without the least danger, either to me or my vehicle. The time, we may suppose, is at hand, and seems to bo proguQgiifjated V^ by my dream, when these airy excursions will be universal,'^'' when judges will fly the circuit, and bishops their visitations j and when the tour of Euiopo will be performed with much greater speed, and with equal advantage, by all who travel merely fur the sake of having it to say, that they have made it. "I beg you will accept for yourself and yours our unfeigned love, and remember me aiUctionately to Mr. Bacon, when^you see him. " Yours, my dear fiiend, "Wm. Cowper." To THE Rev. John Newton. March 29tk, 1784. " My deau FRfEND,— It being his Majesty's pleasure, that I should yut have another opportunity to write before he dissolves the Parliament, 1 avail myself of it with all possible alacrity. COWPKR. ^ [ thank you for your last, whicli was not tho less welcome for ■mnug, like an cxtraoidiiiaiy gazette, at a time whon it was not expeeterl. "As when the sea is uncommonly asitatfid, the water finds its way into creeks and holes of rocks, which in its calmer state it never reacliea, in like manner the effect of these turl.ulent times is felt even at Oichard Side, where in general we live as undisturhed by the political element as shrimps or cockles that have been accidentally deposited in some hollow beyond tho watca- mark, by the usual dashing of the waves. We were sitting yesterday after dinner, the two ladies and myself, very composedly, and without the least apprehension of any such intrusion in our snug parlour, one lady knitting, the other netting, and tho gentleman winding worsted, when to our unspeakable siiprise a mob appeared before the window; a smart rap was heard at the door, the boys bellowed, and the maid announced Mr. Grenville. Puss was unfortunately let out of her box, so that tho candidate, with all his good friends at his heels, was refused admittance at the grand entry, and referred to the back door, as the only possible way of approach. " Candidates are creatures not very susceptible of affronts, and would rather, T suppose, climb in at the window, than be iihsolutely excluded. In a minute, the yard, the kitchen, and the i)arl()ur, were filled. Mr. Grenville, advancing towards me, shook me by the hand with a degree of cordiality that was extremely seducing. As soon as he, and as many more as could find chairs, were seated, he began to open the intent of his visit. T told him I had no vote, for which he readily gave me ci!,•« f..u„ci f L- TT ''"^ston iook u) for a moment J^ homhis tanslationot Homer, though he little drean.ed that ^ he w,th Ins gentle Jihilanthiopy and sentimental i.sm ad a v ^ th.ng to do with the great overturn of^u;r^eial and poliS ^" systeuKS of the past. From tin.e to time some ora.h of ell magnitude awakens a faint echo in the letters. ^ '^ V V To Lady Hesketh. •;ln,^»d of beginning with th, ,.frro„.ve,todt„'::„rt„ which H„,„or mv.t,., me, on a morning that has „„ Tff vest to bo,„t, I ,ha„ begin with you. I^ i, ,,,'.,„ ^ '^ '^ wa,t so long a, w. .u.t for you, but we are willing Zkl l.at I,, a longer say you will make „, amends for .H tl tedious procrastination. ^"'^ "Mrs. Unwiu hi.s made known her whole case to Mr Gregson whose op.n.oi.. of it has been very consolatory To ... he says indeed ,t is a case perleotly out of the re:.ch of lu' hysicl aid, but at the same time not at all dan.eL^ Constant pain ,s a sad grievance, what(..ver part is aff^o^i ^ .he is hardly ever free from an aching head, 1:1:, :^^:::^ m *"^ Q,/v>N'^A^^^i>'" THK LKITKIIS. 8ide,(but patience is iiii^niiodjiu) of God's own propaiution, and of that He gives lier l.irgcly.I "The French who, like all livly f<.!ler. " The French," obserxes C<.w,,er to Lady Hesketh in December, 1792, "are a vain an,, childish people, aT.d conduct themselves on this grand ocausion with a levity and extravagance nearly akin to madness; but it would have been better for Austria and Prussia to let them alone. All nations have a ri]ccc ot face paintui'' uiav be o„.ul.m I th.„k, i„ two „„i„u of view. Fi,,t,%h,.rl t ™m ,or d,«,,„te „,tl, ™,,,„ot ,o the co,„i.,le„ov of He ,„JJ w.t., goo,l mo,»l.,; and aeoondly, w.etl.e,- it be o„ th w I couvemeiit „,. not, ,„ay l,e a ...atter worthy „,• ^^Mi„. ,'' I .om^e too ,se,.vv the .,„„ ,.e.„|,„,ty an^the,! .i,.„ it ^, ^ ciilUJioit with my |.„,-pose of writing „, f„,t „, j ,„„ ""^ '• As to the i,„,uo,„hty of the custo,,,, were I i„ France I Bhonid see n„„e_ On the o„nt,,„y, it seen., in that oonnTry t^ be a sy,„,,t„„, ol m„d..,t consciousness, and a tacit confession Tf wl,at all know to he trne, that French faces have in fact neZ red nor white of their own. This humhle aoknowledg^:*: « defect looks the more like a virtue, hein,. f„„„d Cn! a ^ people not renn.rkahh, for hun.ility. Agai; before 7e ^an ' prove the pract.e to be innnoral, we „„,t prove i„,n,oralL"n the d«,gn of those who nse it; either that they i,"tend^>: dece,,„on, or to kindle unlawful desires in the beholL But "^ the trench huhe^ so far as their purpose con.es in questfon '^ must be acqu.tted of both these charges. Nobody V^^ \ then colour to be natural for a moment, any „,„« IZT'^' wo,, d if it wer,. blue or green : and this u,. ^.b^uTjud,'!' ' of the matter ,s owing ,o two causes: ^.-st, rihe un'Ca know,e,lge we have, that French wo.nen are natu.ully eZ brown or ye low, with ve,y few exceptions; and second yt he .narfhcal manner in which they paint; for they do not! a^ I am m„»t .at,sl..c,or.l, ...lo.mcd, even at.en.pt an imitat o^ ^ OOWPER. 105 of nature, bnt besmear themselves hastily, and at a venture anxious only to lay on enough. Where therefore t..ere is no wanton intention, nor a wish to deceive, I can discover no immorality. But in England, I am afraid, our painted ladies , are not clearly entitled to the same apology. They even i imitate nature with such exactness that the whole public is -' sometimes divided into parties, who litigate with great warmth-*' y the question whether painted or not 1 This was remarkably the ^ case with a Mi.ss B , whom I well remember. Her roses ;^'^' and lilies were never discovered to be spjudoga, till she att..ined/ an age that made the supposition of their being natural impossible. This anxiety to be not merely red and white, which is all they aim at in Fiance, but to be thought very beautiful, and much more beautiful than Nature has made them, is a system' not very favourable to the idea we would wish to entertain of the chastity, purity, and modesty of our countrywomen. That they ai-e guilty of a design to deceive is certain. Otherwise why so much art ? and if to deceive, wherefore and with what purpose? Certainly either to gratify vanity of the silliest kind, or, which is still more criminal, to decoy and inveigle, and carry on more successfully the business of temptation. ° Here, therefore, my opinion splits itself into two o[)posite sides upon the same question. I can suppose a French woman, though painted an inch deep, to be a viituous, discreet, excellent character; and in no instance should I think the worse of one be. a. se she was painted. But an English belle must pardon me if 1 have not the same charity for her. She is at least an impostor, whether she die tts me or not, because she means to do so; and it is well if that be all the censure she deserves. "This brings me to my second class of ideas upon this topic; and here 1 feel that I should be fearfully puzzled, were 1 called' upon to recommend the practice on the score of convenience. If a husband chose that his wife shrtld paint, perhaps it mi *» -quel whl h should make them tremble. "I understand that in France, though the use of rou^e be England, she that uses one, commonly uses both. Now all white paints, or lotions or whatever they may be caZ . niej^.1, consequently poisonous, conse.pitTy niinou in ; "" to the constitution. The Miss B above Jr^^ " —ewi^ess of this truth, it beiu;t^^^^^^ fe 1 from her bones before she died. Lady Coventry was hard v a less melancholy proof of it; and a London physician perhan J were he at liberty to blab, could publish a bU of f? mo. tality. of a length that would astonish ua '"""''' ''For these reasons I utterly condemn the practice as it ^ol,tain8 m E.igland; and for a reason superior to all !V t must disapprove i. I cannot, indeed, disco: that Sc 2- oibids It in so many words. But that anxious solicitude al: the person, which such an artifice evidently betra t T 1 sure, contrary to the tenor and spirit of ,>. tl.rou hout ^h «.a . women with a painted face. Lnd I will show^t ^ COWPER. 107 whose heart is set on things of the earth, and not on things above. "But this observation of mine applies to it only when it is N. an imitative art. For in the use of French women, I think it is as innocent as in the nso of a wiM Indian, who .Ir'iws a circle ^ round W f»ce, and n)akes two spots, perhaps blu.^ i)erhap3 : whitr, in the middle of it. Such are my thoughts upon the ^ matter. j ** Vive valeque, ^9^ " Yours ever, i " W. 0." "V V •^ These letters have been chosen as illustrations of Cowpor'a •; epistolary style, and for that puipose they have been given entire. But they are also the best pictures of his chara'cterj and his character is everything. The events of his life worthy of record might all be comprised in a dozen pages. 41: CHAPTER VIIL CLOSE OP LIFE. CowPEB says there could not have been a happier trio on earth than Lady Hesketh, Mrs. Unwin, and himself Nevertheless, after his removal to Weston, he again went mad, and once more attempted self-destruction. His malady was constitutional, and it settled down upon him as his years increased, and his strei gth failed. He was now sixty. The 01 uey physicians, instead" of husbanding his vital power, had wasted it away secundum artem by purging, bleeding and emetics. He had overw-n ked himself on his fatal translation of Homer, under ihe buidenof which he moved, as he says himself, like an ass overladen with sand- 108 CLOSE OP LIFE. K's. He had been getting up to work at six, and not b.eakfitsting till eleven. And now the life from wlncli Lis had for so many years been fed, its.If began to fail. Mrs. Uiiwin was 8t.icken with ,,araly.sis; the .stroke was slight, but of its nature there was no doubt. Her days of bodily life were numbered; ot mental life there remained to her a still shorter span. Hex' excellent son, William Unwin. had died of a fever soon after the removal of the pair to Weston. He had been engaged in the work of his profe.ssion as a clergyman, and we do not hear of lus being often at Olney. But he was in constant correspondence with Cowper, in whose h >art as well as in that slfo"^' •'. T '"^'' """^ '"^" '''' •* g''«^* -'''' --» l'i« s«ppo.t was withdrawn ju.t at the moment when it was about to become most necessary. Happily just at this juncture a new and a good friend appeared. Hayley was a .nediocre poet, who had for a time obtexned dis inction above hi. merits. Afterwards his star had dechned but having an excellent heart, he had noc been xn the least soured by the downfall of his xeputation He was addicted to a pon.pous roUu^Ji^ of style; perhaps he was rather absurd; but he wa. thoroughly good-natured, ^ery anxious to make himself useful, and devoted to Cowp^i. to whom, as a poet, he looked up with an admiration unallo'yed by any other feeling. Both of them, as it happened, were engaged on Mi ton, and an attemp. had been made to se them by the ears; but Hayley took advantage of it to intnxluce himself to Cowper with an effusion of the warmest esteem He was at Weston when Mrs. Unwin was attacked with pandysis, and d.splayed his resource by trying to cure her with an electnc-:.,..„.h,no. At Eartham, on the coast of Sussex, he ;ad, by an expenditure beyond lis n.eans, made for him.self a c. cle To this nlace he gave the yniv a pressing invltati.ui which was accepted in the vain hope that a change migh do JVlrti. Unv in good, e> "u COWPKE. 109 From Weston to Ea.tliam w,i8 a three davs' joinney, an .•Mterpiise not undo.tak,.. svitlmut nmd. titjp|dation and earnosi prayer. It was safoly aocmplished, however, the enthusiastic Mr. Rose walking to meet hi. poet and philosopher on the way Ilayley had tried to get Thurlow to meet Oowper. A sojourn ui a country house with the tremendous Thurlow, the only talker for whom Johnson coudescnded to prepare hiinseU; would have been i-ather an overpowering i)leasure; and perhaps' after all, it was as well that Hayley could only get Cowper's disciple, Hurdis, afterwards professor of poetry at Oxford, and Charlotte Smith. At Eartham, Cowper's portrait was painted by Romnej. Romney, expert infallibly to trace On chart or canvass 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. Thou hast so jjencilled mine that though I own The subject worthless, I have never known The artist shining with superior grace ; But this 1 mark, tliafc symptoms none of woe In thy incomparable work a[ipcar : Well : I am satislied it should be so Since on maturer thought the cause is clear ; For in my looks what sonow couht'st thou see When I was Hayley's guest and sat to thee. Southey ol)serves that it was likely enough there would be no melancholy in the portrait, but that Hayley and Romney fell into a singular error in mistaking for "the light of genius" what Leigh Hunt calls "a fire fiercer than that either of intellect or fancy, gleaming from the raised and protruded eye." Hayley evidently did his utuiost to make his guest happv. They s])ent the hours in literary cliat, and compared notes about Milton. The first days were days of enjoyment. But soon the recluse began to long for his nook at Weston. Even :){ I iu ill no OLOSK OF LIFK. the extensiveness of the view at Eaitham mado his raind acli. and iric.eus.Hl his inoli.ncholy. Tr, VVoshoa the pair returned, the paralytic, of course, none the hotter for her journey. Her mind as well as her body was now rapi.ilv -ivin- way. We quote as biography that which is too well known to be quote.) as poetry. TO MARY. The twentieth year ia well nigh past Since first our sky was overcast : Ah, wouhl that this might be the last ! My Mary I Thy spirits have a fainter flow, I Bee tliee daily weaker grow : 'Twas my distress that brougiit thee low, My Mary ! Thy needles, once a shining store. For my sake restless heretofore, Now rust disused, and shine no more, My Mary I For though thou gladly wouldsfc fuliil The same kind office for me still, Thy sight now seconds not thy will, My Mary | But well, thou play'dst the housewife's part, And all thy threads with magic art, Have wound themselves about this heart, My Mai-y 1 Thy indistinct expressions seem Like language utter'd in a dream : Yet me they charm, whate'er the tlieme, My Mary 1 Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Thau golden beams of orient light, My Mary I COWPKR. J J For couM I view nrtr tliem nor thoe, What sight wortii seeing could I aee ? The sua would rise iu vaiu for mo, My Mary | Partakers of thy sad decline. Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet geutly press'd, preas gently mine. My Mary | Such feebleness of limbs thou provost, That now at every step thou inovest, Upheld by two; yet still thou lovest. My Mary | iAnr" still to love, tliough press'd with ill, In wintry ago to feel no chill, jWith me is to be lovely still, My Mary | But ah ! by constant heed I know, How oft the sadness that I show Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe, My Mary I And should my future lot be cast With much resemblance of the past, Thy worn-out heart will break at last. My Mary | Even love, at least the power of manifesting love, be^an to betray its „Kntality. She who bad been so devoted, became as her m.nd failed, exacting, and instead of supporting her partner, «rew him down. He sank again into the depth of hypochondria. As usual, his malady took the form of reli-nous horroi-s, and he fancied that he was ordained to undergo severe penance for his sins. Six days he sat motionless and silent almost refu.P.g to take food. His physician suggested, as the only chance of arousing him, that Mrs. Unwin should be induced, if possible, to invite him to go out with her; with tl9 OLOSI or LfFK. ?:'L:':::"::;;,;r:::::' T'-^ --« "- - lik« » w„lk. H,.,- „,„-f , r J "'""• ■""' "'" »''°"''' -.1 »,.i.it for tte la«t M „„ t, '" '''"■ '■™"' ""' vvi.an ti,„i,. , r,. -.v ,":,",in;:r™ ".■ """•''" h.>.... ""*r tl.o i„(lu,.„ce of « I 1 1 " """'■"''''" ■"""■"■■ »."! a sort of medium of ,.,„ "" " "I""'""' o™'". writing down t e 1 r::,:,::;''"" ";"' "'- ^"'*™-'''' t.me i..,,. partner lost the protection of th/j' ^^ '*'"' which .he had always contri ed o si ^r-"T'"' ^"' '^ 8ocureforhim,insniteof}.i/ . ' woakn- ., and to ' '^P"^®°' his eccentric t OS rosnef-tf.,! f . from his nei«hbour8 Tulu w i .. , ;^' ''*''*®''""' t'eatinent him«elf „o ,„er« ii„„ h„„te° hut , t™ frie""- T "'"'■ ''°^"' witli Co».i)eA relative l.„ „ """"">'"'• I" conjunction Cowp„,. seeded to JtL^t ltd " f H °"°"' "'"" Dunham Lodge, „»,. Swaffham^ fnd la, /L T7S f ^^ *" DoreLam, where, two month,, after their afriVal m'^ f, ''"' died. Her partner wa, barely oon,oiou. of I, , ""'" n.orni„gof her death ho .sked'the Z e . w etW the "" life above sta rsl" On F.pin« * i . ^"( cncr there was at it for a n.o...n:^:^:! :^;^-^;^^ ^^ ''''-' neve, spoke of Mrs. Unwin rno^' He h. 7 "' '''''' "^^ survive her three years . ^1 a h . f d , '" '"'"'"•'""^ ^ ^Hends were kind, and M > i ' ^"""=7'"^'' '-^''atives and faint revival of literary fr. • if ] ^ '' ^^ ''^^«°" ""^ «,o x.azm verae or translafc. .., wi <> one nL . > ^'^"'''^ ' ' ''''^ '"^'•"'^'•'hio and almost tlipy wanted her to lin-f, ttud she shoiil.l 1 placed her aim in nt!, with iinH)uMit power, I'is (li'nt.iiiy n'|H'lli'cl : Ai\>l ever, as tlic iiiiu\ito» How, Enti-oatctl help, or cried -"Atlioul" At loiigtli. his tr.niHioiit rospito past, His comrailos, who hcforo Had licud Ills voifc in ovory Mast, Could cad'li the smuid no uiore: For tlu'U liy toil sululucd, h(> drank The stillinii; wave, and tlien ho sank. No pi>et wept him ; hut the page (>f narrative vsineere, That tolls his name, hia worth, his ago. Is wet with Ansi>n'a tear; And tears hy hards or lieroi^s shod Alike inuuorfavlize the dead, I therefore purpose not. or dream, Deseiintiuj; on his fate, To give, the melancholy theme A more enduring liato : But misery still doliglit^ to trace Its semhlanee in another's cjise. No voice divine the storm allay'd, No light ])ropitious slioue, When, anatch'd from all etrectual aid. We perish'd, eacii alone : But I beneath a rougher sea, And whelm'd iu deeper gulfs than he. The desi>:ur wliich tinds vent in verse is hardly despair. Poeti/ can never be the direct expression of emntioa; it must OOWt'KU. lid I liarfHy de^ipair. iuiotioa ; it must -it:t;:::::;:;::':':;;;i.7'; ^ -... -'-.o'n,ou::;.::;;:;t;;:;;:r'^""^ "^-'■ oo'r;:::::::^;::^:''-'''-''' --^ ;'^ winnin, U-i.ruU that his hi.... . • L" v' ""'' " '""'''' ''^■^''«;Mnto ,ivi„, hi.„ too hi; t X^"^^^^^^^^ I''-'t.cuhu- n,h-.M-o„.s movom.n.fc with fh« ; r -^^ """ -nsedoes ho hoh>,., to ^ ^ ^ I '' ""''"'''^'■^''"^ for existonoe wouM he ha t' " '"^'^"-1 Btn.,,,,,e l-ocsH of soIe<,tioM wou I ... r T'"""' ^'^^ "« "at.„.Hl voHSel of J.onour If h' ' ,7'' . "*^ '"""" ^'''^'''^ «"t a.s a ci.Hst B, Hi:'L.".ra^r'^: :::^ :'«"-- ^^-..-ies weak thin,.s of thi.s worhl sho„h fJ , / ?"'''^ ""'"• *^" become the title to oxisteLe . e' " "'"' "'""''' "^"^'" -ill be cast asi.h, as a h o l^ If T "'7," '' "^"^''' ^'"^l'- wl.o huvo said auvthinr in r '"' '" "^"■'■"''^>'' -"' -» «ame scorn "^ ^ '^^^ ^''"'^ "^" ^ '--tod with the THE END iii N < ) T /■; s It To TiiK lAFh: OV (^()W]?EJ tr . "" ' TTT^r^^I^nl. of Ca.m.Uv. in the year one thouBamI Kn.ce.. acco«.,n. to Act of the 1 .1 , . n ^^ ^ ^^^^^^^^ ,^^^^,^^^_ ,-,.l.t U,..,Jied an.l ninety four, l^y iU^ ^*" • Ontario, in the OHice of the Minister of A«.u:ullu,«. NOTKS TO cowpe:r fEcfcrcnccs to Cowpor's poems are niatlo ucoordinL' f„ ti, ' ami his letters are referml to T ni \^ , ""* "••■"'^'^""'■'« <'">" .ho (JrtrU Bohn. 1854.J '° "''""""*'' '" •'"'""^■>"'* "''^i"" ^" ^-'^wper^ work., CHAPTER I. t) ^' V- P°yP®^- ''''^^ pronunciation of the poet's name has been he subject of nn-eh discussion, especially to be found tn VVs ,, Quenes It is conch.sive from one con.nu.nicat.on r.V .. O I • ,'7 where the origin of the family is .liseussed, that the earlv .idhn^'o 1 1', family name was "Cooper." and from another (.V. .L^O -ti 1 i hat the poet himself was called "Cooper" by those .t i;.:;,-.^ from which we may safely hold that the pronunciation of tl e po >s name IS more properly Coo'per. ' I'lc poets ^\1' „^^ropean Revolution. Of which the chief niovement was the French Revolution (Green, .%ort in,tor,, x. ,ii., "'""'"'"''"t J^ ^^l ^,^0"SSeau (roo .sO'). Jean-Jacjues Rousseau ( 1 712- 1 77S) .^ thor of the S0.U.I,. mioi.., EnnU, C'../, ...o.., .tc, was t L ,i ! ' ' ntiments of love and nature, and c.nse.iuentiy contributed most to 5i 17. establishment of England, Episcopacy. The established church, or state church ^' ??; , .^esley .... Clarkson. Green's admirable sketch of the rise of Methodism (chapter x. of the ,'ihoH HhturiA si iiection with this chapter. He treats there also of that accompanied it, led by Wilberforco and Claik « [IIDJ louM be re.ad in con- the new iihiiaiitliropy .sou against the slave- 120 COWPKB. tr V.U. an.l by •h>\nx Howard against the iniquitieH of prison-life. John Thornton {i:--^0.l7«.)0) was a rich i.hilanthroi.ie .ncrchaut, fnend un.l ^SS^U;.rfor. Oneof...nanyfo.^ ':: ll;.-u. H^ ... weU Unown to Cowper who pra.ed h :, virtues in a p..em to his memory. (Gh,bc ed. p. oli. ) 5 21. Goldsmith. Oliver (>oUlsmith(17;2S.1774), author of T/. Tr.n:ller, The Dcsa-lrd VUUu,c, The Vkar oj )\ ahjrdd, ^io. ^ 99 Crabbe. <)') lie was at her liouse m me evtimij, . . . /-, ! i.;;, and next morning she was found dead in tl. ^^^^^'J^^^^ Witt three otlier lawyers . . . were accused «f »'-'^"'"° ,.'' but the defendants were acuuitted. ... 'I he pn.«.cu on were said to be suggested by a double motive. The tones ,.f Hertford w sle'to ban. a m^u.ber of an eminent whig f anuly, and the Quakers to Sear their b.dy of the reproach of suicide."-i>i<-«. Nat. B.oy. NOTES. led for their eminence 121 6, 13. Donne.... the poet. J..hn Donne ( 1.37.1- Ki.in tl.e el,. ::i:pee;ui;r '"" "" ^-■'^ ""^^"'•^•^ *■• "•"■ *-^^^ "^- -w»o- 6. 16 (old style). The co.reeti.m „f the ehron,.l„gy of the .Juli.n yc. hy the . o,.t,on of the . I.e.onan style wa« not n.a.le n EuJmZ 1 -I. wl.en eleven days were .Iropt from the eale„,l..r In Jlertfonlshire. ete. (Quoted 6, 17. Berkampstead. 6 19. Romney. (Jeorge Jlomuey (17.'U-1802), a very en.inenf ;".l.Bh l.a.nter .ivaling Keynol.,. a. a painter of port^it. i ee !' l-nney has .h-awn n,e in o.yons (an.lin the opinion of all he.;' u -t an» . w,th h,s best ha.,.l. and with the nui exaet rese 1 L;^ IJossiWe. '-Cowper to I.ady llesUeth, Ang. L'(;, 17!,o "''' 6, 30. "I am of a very singular temper" froin (..wpers letter to l.a.iy Jlesketh, Aug. i), I76.S. ' ofVe^V.^^^T""- ^••'•'"""^^l-"-'- ('--3-la99). author espeei.ally of Jhe Fa,-n. tj,u.n, a work of lavish heauty of exprc.ssion and serene majesty of thouglit. lu.vMon.ma onl'}u-'- ■^°^®',^ Alexander Pope (I(i88-I744), author of an AW,y on t Uavu, an L.sn^ on Mm, The Diuu-huL ete. The tern. " a.vh vcrs.her' voiees the reaetion of the Kon.antie reviv^; L^';: ..versa adanrat.on with whieh Popes work wa.s onee"re,-ar,l .">> thing, the iMighsh Hoi^aee was eve., more tha.i an areh-ve,-si(ier. 7, 27. polemics. Jlero disputants, controversialists. 7, 29. Trulliber [irM'\hor). Pa.son Tmlliher, i,. Fielding's novel of Jo..ph Andnno., depiets an indolent, igno.-ant, and sellish clergyman. 7 29. Dr. Primrose. The vicar in (ioldsmith'.s Vkar of Wab-. .■ '<»t<>t\ PC and is l>ii„«,. If .-- w:. :.„:,'.;;L-;;; ™:;ir;:: ■» ;;;;^;::' j^:t' 1 ""i ':!!; i;i^ :™:;::;:;T",:;t;^ "-' ^'^ ■"■? ' 8, 22. Election. Sie note 7, :u. ;||4 -s the eelchna...! ,....,.., (....^o W.-t, ,;< ,1 l.-o i.nnc.i.les of Calvini.tio Motl...,lis,„ she a.h.pte,!. , , ^ -- most extensive, providing f...- the t,.»„i„, .f p.vael s ; '"•""1>"« of chapels, and org.anizing of n.issions. ^ "'■^•'"'''^' *'"' tlH Nt.an.l from Meet Street, London. The heads and ..nuters of '^"..nnals were, as late as 1772, exposed on the (J.ate. ' /.wf?\.'^.°^;^^°''- , ^""""' •^"'"''"" (•70!)-17S4), editor of the / o.M> and A//,., an.l author of the poem. T/.r rmri/u ofllaT'n '^ -;. of the first great English dietion.u-y, of Lirrs .f I t, "Z t! 1- oso rcnnance. 7.V,,s..7„,. ,ns work and his conversation (• .' ,' ■-tt.d W.th a caustic ^v,t and great intelleetnal foree, heean o tla hter.iry autocrat of England '» t.inic tin. ■i iii. iiilW i.i . r ii i i ifc, '■ ■ l| ; 124 COWPKR. Quotod from Cowper'a letter to 9, 30. Every creature, i tc. Mrs. lUulliiiiii, l'V'l>. '^7, 17'J0. 10, 18. My mother! when I learned, etc. Quotd fn.iu (hi llc'i't "f "'.'' '1/"'/" '•'■-' /''■'•'"'•'■• '• -' "'• 11, 13. I had hardships, «to. Quotd fro.u Cowpur's own Memoir. 12 2. Tirocinium (/- r, Wu' ; u,n). A T.atin wonl moanin, 'a, the lust n.ilitary service (of a tyro) ; hence, the l.eg.mm., ot Lny thing. ( '..wper lin-ls the tith. appropriate for a poem cntic.a.ng the school-Ufc of liiH .hiy. See iVi, lOlV. 12, 3. Then why resign, etc. Tirocinium, 1. 551, ff. 12 33 Westminster School. St. Teter'R School. West- ,„inir, a fan,..u.s school, eu,lowe.l hy (^ueen LUizaheth at winch n..any lat men have heen eaucate.l ;-poets such a« IVn .lonson, llerhert ^^Z Southey; statesmen like N'aue an.l llussell ; the ardnteet Christopher Wren, the philosopher l.ocUe, the histona.. <..l.l.o... 12 37. Public Schools Commission. A comn.issi..n isHuo.! i„ ,S.1; investigate the con.Utiou o. the great ''^'^''^V'" ^x^ I ^1 T1.0 veport ..f the co '^^I'- j'-'^Lw^f ^Tt^r i^a witnesses, etc., was issiumI m IbM. A rcMCW tn, i Fnt.srrs Manadnc, June anm pn-' .!,„..) (n.r. r.lJl,sffi's, hiMi, M,/ii,iiori,/,„s,s, Ars A„„ifur;,i, etc. 14, 10. Impey. Si,- KliJ^il, r,n,,ey (17.T-'-IS()9), lirst chief.justicc ot the Supreme Conrt of (!aleutta. Impey presided over the e,.„rt that condemned Auncomar, l.nt his eha.aeter lus l,,..,, entirely vindi- r:iU;\ from the attacks made on it by Macaulay in his eHsay Warren lldst'uitjs. 14, 18. silver pence. Cf. ' At. WeslniiMsicr, when' lillle poola strivo To set ;i uil«linf,'N l)cloii;^inK to tiic InniT 'I'l-mpl.'. A 'reader- ship' there would niniply moan li'cturing on law to students. 15, 26. Nonsense Club. "A duh of (seven) Westminster men, wlio dined to^;(tlu'i- every Thursday." Cowpcr to the Uev. \Vm. Unwin, April :i(», 1785. 16, 26. Westminster men. l-'onuer studeuts of the AVest- minster School. (.See note 12, 33). 15. 27. Bonnell Thornton (1 724- 17r„S), Thornton fell in with Coliinn atOxt'oid. Togellur they i)ul)lishe(l the review called "The Connoisseur" (l7.')4-()), containing their witty essays on morals and litei-iture. Thornton helped to found the " St. .JaineH's Chronicle," and undertook with Colman and Wainer to translate i'lautus. He wrote .•IS well a few i»oeina. Intemperance shortened his days as with other meinhars of the Xfmsense Club. The famous Exhibition of Signs, whitdi the club umlertook was his idea. To satirize the exhibition of the Itoy.al Acadc^my, the Nonsense Club opened on the sfinie day as the former its ' l':xhibiti(m made by the Society of Sign Painters of all the curious signs that can be found in city and country, with original designs which can be reganlcd as specimens of the native genius of the natiim.' Hogarth helped with his brush to make the signs still more humorous. 15, 28. Colman. George Colman (17.13-1794) was manager of tlie(;ovent-(;;mleu and Hay market theatres, at which lit; presented his popular comedies of "Polly Honeycomb" and " The Clandestine Mar- ri.age." His disciples were Lloyd, 'i'hornton, etc. 15, 31. Terence. A gre.it R(mian writer of comedies (n.r. 195- 159), remarkable not only for dramatic merit but for purity of style. 15, 32. PlautuS. The greatest comic poet of Home {n.c. 254- 1S4), author of a largo number of comedies, which were immensely popular among the Romans. 15, 33. Lloyd. Robert T.loyd (1733-1704), was born .at Westmin- ster and beca:nc usher in the school tluire. He wrote with other works apoem, "The Actor," .and a comic opera, " The (,'apricious Lovers." Jlis ^fOTES. law, ctc.rcsul- 127 ;s of the West- •'- U'ilkea. he ..uinUn ^u ^ iul ^^T """" "T^'r^' '^ ^^''"'' iO, O. Wilkes, ■/olm WilkiM n:"7 l- < .SBolut. lifo that ).., ,„,, to lnsattaekoath„..trv ,,;'';''''/'''-' ^''"'■'' '''•'"'" <'''''-') ""'l 16, 6. Signs. See note 1,\ 27. ..nial at.nosph.ro ofVnen.Is and h:! i^";^ '^ir^i' '? *''";7- i''^veg.vo„ hi„,« ponnanontnlaoo in uJrlu. I "'''' -''■-.1. i-«inativo. an.l hi«h!y ,i:i:heal:t;t '^ '''''''' " ' '^""• "Hiray, with .^t^;/he f l'' 1 '' ""7''"' '^ ^'"-^ "'^ ^'^ --'--0 tl'-^kiMK), Mason was skil i "^ ''•' ^'''' '''''■•'"'"^ '■''"I'l-ii" to "Klfrick" an.l "Ca.act"!' 1 , "" *'" *"" ^'••■'«^"''"''' "^ ^'-•.len." together wU^tl ^^i "i n':^n;: TtI'' " '' Y '"«"^" ,o ,Q o '^o'Ls, and a J,ife of I honias (;ray." I'Hvo hocome classics i„ our lancr„a„e 'S>"r^"/'>/- 16. 22. Phillips. John Phillips (or with one '1' lG7fi 17n<5» ni . , ■■'t Westminster School an.l Oxfon tn,li ^ • '^^fi-lTOS), cducatc.l «t".lent of literature. His -s>« « ^ '^^ ^^^ J^ ^ "-"tea •> poverty-stricken wretch livin. in . ...rr et Hi' ^"''" *" -as pronounced hy tho Tu/l.r "' t he W , ^'^'"'"" "' *'"' «'"^'^' ian.ua,... His i,. i.^nltL th^^::!,- ;:!n:;;!r'" ^" *"" '^'•'^^-'^ ^^^; -..er. .imitation- is « Versos on Finding tL^Heel of a Shoe '' ■wHiwKiiiwpii 'Hm4» 128 cowpF.n. 16, 24. John Cowper. 'I'lu! llev. John Oowper, A.M. (li:M- 1770), vicar of l'\)xtoii, (Jiuul)ri(lgeshire. " I Iia'l a r.rothiT oiR'c : Peace to the iiiemi)i-.v of a man of worth ! A mail of lettuis, and of iiianiiors, too ! (tf iiiamiurH sweet, aM Virtue always wears. When !,'ay tJooil lluinour dresses her in smiles ! lie u'rae'd a eolIe!,'e, in which order yet Was sacred, and was honnnr'd, lov'd, .ind wept By more than one, themselves conspicnons there !" Cowper, The Task, "Time Piece," COOff. ■ 16, 25. Henriade. An epic pocui hy the great Frenchni.in Voltiiiri! (1(J!)4-177S), tho greatest name in European literature of Ills century. It lias for subject the religious wars in which the massacre of St. Bartholomew's Day, the battle of Ivry, are the chief events, antl Henry IV. (hence Ilcnnaih) tho chief character. 16, 29. "When poor Bob White," etc. Quoted from Cowper's letter to Joseph J I ill, Jan. ',\\, 1782. 16, 30. Boscawen. Edward Boscawen (1711-1701), an eminent r.ritish admiral, successful in many engagements, especially in the victory over the French licet in the Bay of Lagos (near Cape St. Vincent) in 17.")!). 16,31. Hawke . . . . Conflans. Lord Ildward Hawkc (1715- 17S1), a most skilful and successful admiral. His greatest exploit was his defe.it of Marshal Conflans (1()1)0-1777) in the bay of Quibcrou (Nov. 12(1, 175!)), by which England was saved from French invasion. 17, 19. Where once we dwelt, etc. Quoted from On the Uvcc'iid of hiy Mother's Pirlatr out of i^orfolk, 1. 47 IT., Globe ed. p. ;i'2<». 17, 31. Caius College. Pronounced "Key's." This College connncmorates Dr. John Key, who in 1557 erected the original hall into a college. 18, 9. Bohemians. The word Bohemian was used by the Frencli first .as a term for the gypsies, then, as here, for literary men, artists, etc., living in ..n unconventional, free-and-easy and erratic way. 18, 13. Iphigenia. While the (heck fleet w.-ia .a../•.«' ,/,,-,,). Morl.i.l n.dand.oly aud depress.on of .p.nts, usually acco,„pa„ic.d l>y deranged ideas on tl.e std)ject of the patient's health. 19, 1. Southampton Water. A beautiful inlet at tl>o head o wh.eh ,. Southan.pton. It streteln. inland eleven nnles from the junction of the Solent and Spithead. 19 17. Clerk of the Journals. The clerk in cha.go of the records of the proceedings of the House of Lords. 19, 19 patentee. One who has authority or right conferred l.y a patent (document). The right of presentation of the otllee to th. in- tended occupant rested with .Major <'on'i)er. the 1 ower of London. 21, 4. Cowper tells us. In the niein<.ir of the Kariy Life ,.f A\. towper, published 1810. This nu.moir contains a full a.^'ount of {-owpers early insanity. 21, 10. the unpardonable sin. See Matt. 12, .31. ^^' "^r?; . Y}^ ■■■^^ Giload. Uilead was famous for spices nn.l gums. This balm Mas either a precious re.sin of medicinal value exu.hd rom the tree known as the Halsam of (iilead or a healing g„m from the j" .^ 22." l^-^'^^'-^i"! "«^^ ^'f the term arises from the word« m 1 ^l' ?.^" .^.^-PP^ics (.sf/AV.). Toems written in the metre us.-d by thr. (.reek lyric poetess Saj-pho, who flourished about (i(»() n c The metre consists of a stropJio of three lines in Sapphic measure ( L - . "'^'^ ~"")' followed by one A.limic line ( -^^ _ ) xi,. Sapphics of Cowper. entitle,]. "Lines written under th.. luthK'nee of Dehrium (p. 2.3 in the (llolw ed.), begin : ' ILitred anrl venu'eanoe,— my eternal portion Hearee can endure fklay of exeeulion,- Wait \\\\\\ impatient readiness to seize my Soul in a moment.' 21, 29. St. Alban's. one miles n. w. of London. A small town in Hertfordshire, tweuty- ^ 130 cowPEn. CHAPTEK II. 23, 21. quondam. A Latin adverb {qitun' ilani) lueaning 'foniierly,' 'in foruior times,' but used adjectivuly in Enj^libli, — ' fornitT. ' 23, 27. Mentor. The trusty friend of Ulysses, who departing for the Trojan war, gave into his charge )iis liousehold and the education of liis son Teleni'achu.s. 1 fence tlie term Mentor ia often used to indicate a trusty counsellor and guide of youth. 24, 29. Huntingdon. A small town on the left bank of the Ouse, lying twenty miles— " within a long ride "— w, n. w. of Cam- bridge. 25,10. "odd scrambling fellows." Quoted from a letter to Jiady Ilesketh, Sept. 14, 17(35. 25, 13. char-parson. A word used, I believe, only by the author ; made like ' char-woman'; it means a person who took occasional services without having a regular cure. 26, 14. non-residence. A term used particularly of clergy- men who do not live in the parish of which they have charge. 26, 34. Calvinists, Followers of the doctrines of the French divine .John Calvin (I.IO'J-I r)(J4). He wasaprolilic writer, a great contro- versialist, the man who did most to systematise the doctrine and organize the discipline of the various Protestant churches of the Keformation. 'J"he cardinal points of Calvinism are Predestination and Irresistible (irace, according to which (1) God elects certain individuals to be saved ; ('!] for these alone he designs redemption ; (.S) the sinner is himself incapable of true repentance and faitii; (4) the grace of (Jod elFccta the sal- vaticmof thf) elect; (.")) the regenerated ones can never wholly fall from grace. Tlie Church of Kngland h,as generally been ( 'alvinistic, Init during the eigliteenth century Arminianism was favoured by its chief divines. 27. 1. Arminians. Followers of the doctrines of the Dutch Protestant divine Arminius( 1500- 100!)). The live points of Arminianism are (1) conditional prcdestinitimi ; ('_') universal redemption by Christ's deatli, tlirough whicli all believers are saved ; (3) salvation by the grace of tlu3 Holy Spirit, with man's cooperation ; (4) Allgocdin man comes by tlie grace of Cod, but this grace may bo resisted ; (5) Falling from a state of grace is possible. The last point furnished a great cause of contention with the (.Calvinists. NOTKS. 131 jd from a letter to .^I'urcl. services, l.y th. us;.." 7 '''''''''' "^ ccre.nonial i,. tl.e "f '■■«i. wind. .„„ ,,„„„,. „, ,„„„ :,^^ ■;^_^^';.^; ■ ".». - «,„ „.„,a 27, 14. beyond the Atlantic. I„ An.cria. tliis mysticism. ^ e.xponcnts ,n mo.lon. ti.i.es of 28 13. Jansenism. The doctrines of tl.o r)„f ». i •. Cornelius Jan...a (l.-.svi(i;is) J(i. dnJJ ^ Pli»los..id.er, tl.eologieal tcacl.i .' tlu ... i s ^^'"'^ ^' "■'/"•^•^"'"•' <'Pposed tl.e Wd to emirate to^ii^^.^ rsrltil^^Sr'' '^^ ""- ^^28, 21. " as a convert." etc. Letter to Lady Hesketh, July 4, 28, 21. Bedlam. A c.rrupt pronunciation r,f n fi,i i i'-l'itai „„. lunafcs „. I.„„l.,n, The ten •/ ^^^tf'^^'J'^''". « cumnu,u uame for a mad-house '''"' ''^^ ^'""^ ^" •^<'' ^ 132 COWPKK. i\ 'I h f 29, 4. Parson Adams. A clinniiing character in Kicltliiij^'.s Jo.-ii'iih ^1 «'//-('//-.s — Hiiiijjlciiiiiuluil, pure in soul, profound ia luarnins.', (luvotod to truth with such muscular enthusiasm tliat he comes into no small trouble, Con-por's words are contained in a letter to his old friend Joseph ilill, Ojt. '2"), I7(Jo : " Tlie old gentleman la a ni:vn of learning and sense, and as simple as Parson Adams." 29, 7. Paley. ^\'illiaMl I'.iley (1743-1S0,J), the famous En^dish divine, author of woi-Us in pliilosojiliy and tlieoh)gy — //one Paidimi., Eridincc.s of Chrisltauifi/, Natural Thiolontj, etc.,— which were accountci] (^reat triumphs over the sceptical philosophy of his day and won their author substantial preferment. 29, 22, "I met Mrs. Unwin," etc. Quoted from a letter to Lady Ifcfiketii, Oct. 18, ITD.l. 29, 34. • She is very far from grave," etc. Lady ileskcth s letter, from whijli this description is taken, is (quoted in 8outheys Life, i., 25 IL Flench adverbial phrase. 30, 1. dp bon coeur ('/c ^>on([i) br') lii. 'of i.;(;od heart,' heartily. 30, 3, de ''••vjmps en temps {\irc,s by means of (juills, ratiicr than liammers, us in its successor, tiie piamt. 1 from a luttor to NOTES. -1 on Um' "*^^P^^^-' '^''- --1-- of M^M,.r .ouper, near 32, 15. My dear Cousin. The luttLT is .latd April ;{, i:,j7, 32 30 sponsibility. The wonl is coi.u.l f,„. tlu, ..cvasi,,,, _ .....a .stu..lM,, u, th. wo,.M,' ic i>ftie). 'A new eoi.verf wn, ,. y'/*"^.», plaut). -^ ^ -' ' '»- '"^^^ i-omut ((.k. «t<«, new, adverbial phrase, (,'/) taim'(artnu,uth in his right as second carl of Darfnoutli eould wear. Lord Dartmouth ( 171;M SOI ), was .-.. stat-s- man of son.e in.po, tanee, I.ut n.o.e „Kuke,l as a n>an of piety and as'a fnendoftheCountess of Huntingdon and the ^lethodi.sts. His ..vtiaeh- nient to the new scet bronghS him the name of 'l'salm-si..ge,,' l,ut also won him Cowper's praise: t, . ut 'And one who wears a coronet and jirays.' — Triilli, 1. 37s. Olney hymns (40, 1). c mmm W*ll imlilii.i .Mltoi, 131 COWPKK. 35,25. Ce\Y\n\(tcliJ f' m). Bun vemi'to Cellini (1500-1752) was an Italian sculptor and nietal-worUor who uniteil ^reat artistic skill with extraordinary passions. His lifo was a chcciucrcd one, passed mostly in Hitting from one Italian city to another to escape the difficulties which arose from a (juarrelsonie nature and the ahsence of any scruples on the suhject of murder. His autohioi^raphy, Vita di B. Cellini, is a fas- cinating book, showing a wonderfully clear picture of the vanity, credulity and evil i)rinciples of tlie man, whom though you despise you cannot but like, at the same time that it paints the h)W social and moral characteristics of hif age. An interesting essay on him is Birrell's in Obiter Dicta. 35, 32. Shaftesbury. Anthony Cooper, third earl of Shaftes- bury (1071-171.'l), a verj' great philosopher and prose writer. His works are known under the general title of " Characteristics of Men, Manners, Opinions, and 'J'lmcs, " and embrace ess.ays on vari(uis philosophic topics, which he treats always with a lofty spirit and sober judgment. His opposition to certain aspects of popular Christianity have given him the undeserved reputation in the popular mind of being a writer hostile to religion. (Enry. Brit.) 36,7. impressed. 'Carriedoff by an (im)press-gang.' Impress- ment consisted in seizing by means of !\n armed body of men not only sailors and watermen, but even lamlsmen, when the state needed men for naval service. 36, 21. Thomas a Kempis. Cf. 44, 9. He was born in Kcmpen (hence his name), llhenish Prussia, in 1379, and spent his life as an Augustinian monk in the convent of Agiietenberg, where he died in 1471. His character and works were greatly esteemed by his contem- poraries, and one composition attributed to him, The Imitation o/'C/irinl, concentrates " all that is elevating, passionate, profoundly pious in all the older mystics. No book, after the Holy Scripture, has been so often reprinted. " 37, 8. IiOrd Macaulay's remarks. Forming several para- graplis of his essay, lianke's Hidory of the, Popts (Edin. L'ev., 1S40). 37, 14. Carthusian. The Carthusian monks form an order established in ISOli in the solitude of La Chartreuse, France. They exercised the severest asceticism in their liuea and devoted themselves to works of charity and hospitality. 37, 00. cavilling. 'Fault-liuding.' NOTES. 135 38, 24. Jeremiah's figrs. Sec Je,-. 24. iir. 00^.^. j^rLSr^;^,,«*:/^7^^-^ (^80-54., t,...„„.t k. left Kcn.c to dwell a clven f , , ' " ''"''""'' '"editati,.... He of Monte Cassino ^d :«,."'," .'"r'"*"^ "' ''"■ "'''' ''-*'-''^* served as regulatL'n o at" ' / "' ""•"''^^' '''"' ''"^^ -S?^;.Sed^;SfI^:;l------^^- ' An honest man, dose luittoni'd to the chin Broadcloth without, and a warm heart within.' 40, 21. The Castaway. Quoted on,,, m ; (iiobe od. p 40(. 42, 1. Dr. Cotton. See 21, 29: ' No Cotton whose hiiniaiilt.v sheds rays, That made superior skill his second praise,' —IIojw, 2(», 6. i-iiglishmen on eacli .'ith of Noveinher. ^ 1-9.^' ^;f.^°**?^ Mather. A fa,nou,s New England divine im-i- - y). After graduating from Harvard with a repatttion fo a"ce la and ability, lu- entered the ministry. He investiL^ated fl,.. .^ '^"^^^-t'^'^'" of 8aleni witchcraft, writing an alnnt : .r^: 1^ J^^ons t'T"" oraMe Providences relatin, i. WUchcroJt and PoJ !tt c 5) , t T wWe^^nihre .perstition was the canse of innl^^i^i:;:; 43, 15. ThomaH Rnnff Tlinnnc <^' ^-ti /I-<- ii,->. 1 ,. " ~ *•''• '""mas lucutt ii/4/182ii «-i« Lin Aston of 13G COWPKR. 43, 20. Rev. William Bull. Tl.o liov, WiiiLam Bull (1738- . KSI4) w.iH .'111 iinl(;[)cii(lunt luiiiistur. lie iu;nlu tUo auiiuiiiiitauce of Xcwtoii anil ouuiisionally jjruaclied in (Jliujy at tiiu latter'a prayer inot'tiiigs. it was for tliesu meetingi that Cowper wrote liis liyniny no, 1). liiill i.s conuneinoratLMl ill many places of Cowper's verse : 7'o (he 7iVy. Wiliiain Bull ((Mobe ed. p. .34.1), etc. 43, 27. Caris'sime Tauro'rum. Lat., 'dearest of Bulls.' 43, 33. Madame Guyon- Jeanne-Marie liouvier do la Motte, Madame (Juyon (1018-1717), was a celebrated mystic. Early in life she was devoted to religion, and on her husband's death entered ou a fervent religions crusade, travelling throughout France, 'excireising everywhere a great iulluence over feeble and dreamy minds, making proselytes to the mystical doctrines she preached.' Her doctrine, as in Torrents fi/iiritiieh, was tiie merging of the soul f> (iod, who is no longer outside but containing it, and the soul free from desire, indifferent to the world, is identical with God. Her doctrines brought on her long and bitter ])jrsecutions from the clergy^ and imprisonment in the Bastille. .She seems to have been at times the i)rey of an excited iin.igination, but always a passionate advocate of a pure and holy life. Her "quietism " consisted in holding that "rest may be found in the mind reposing itself upon the love of God." Her works are somewhat numerous ; some give ex^Jression in verso to her mystical emotions ; all are looked upon by Voltaire, froin the point of view of literature, as worthless. 44, 3. Nirvan'a. The word means 'extinction,' ' blown out ' as a candle, and forms the goal of the religion of Buddha. Complete Nirvana is impossible until death. Meanwhile let us sit cross-legged, plunged in trance, losing one feeling after another, until as the raindrop merges into the ocean, we merge into a state ' where there are neither ideas, nor the idea of the absence of an idea,' the Nirvana of this life. 44, 5. reprobation. The predestination of a certain number of the human race as reprobates, or objects of condemnation and punishment by God. 44, 8. P^nelon. Francois de la Mothe de Fenolon (16ol-17]5), archbishop of Cimbrai, a man eminent in piety and in literary genius. He supported Madame Guyon (note 4I{, 31^) during the time of her persecution. His works are most voluminous, some dealing with the contioversy over (.Quietism (note '27, 3.)), otliers like TeliiiiuKjiu; purely literary and pedagogic ; others sacred oratory of a splendid kind. notRs. 13? ustof Bulls.' <'ilAi'THi; rv. 1 ho .vonl i3 made f n.ni tJ.e L. ,>yov„.y, .lung. 44, 20. Elysian. Excee.linL'ly ,iJi.,|,tf,.i ip;.- • , 221, vii., 292 (IS3;) d,,. " '''■''' °^ "»•"••■ '■■ "«. l-H 45. 18, Churchill. Seo „„te l(i i .aae colonel. His wor.s are lies of C^^ 'xT^^r i^LS The motto referred to is : "Nous so.nmes nes pour la v^.rite et nous no pouvons souffr.r son abord. Les figures, les paraboles. les emWe me -nuoujours des ornements necessaires, pour ,u'elle pui; V Inc ' Lt soit quoncra,gne qu'ollc nc dooouvrc trop l>rusque„,entl d^^^^^^^^^ qu on voudra.t oaoher, ou qu'enfin elle „' inJtruise .ve o .e. o management, on veut. en la recevan, qu 'elle soit deguis^-e '- . t 138 COWPEH. f! , titlo page of the wlition, 1782). " Wo are Irorn for trut}» and •^'e cannot Hufler lier approach. Figures, parables, symbols are always oinanienta requisite for htr to u.se to make known her coniiii;;. NVliether people fear tliat she will disclose too bluntly the fault tliey would like to hide, or tliat in short whe will enlighten with too littk' tact, they wish when receiving Inr to receive her in disguise. " It is from a volume of the excellent Caraccioli called Joiiinnance de soi-mCme.'— Cowper to the Hev. John Newton, Nov. 7, 1781. Cowpor's estimate of the philosophic wisdom and goodness of the man and of the excessive relinements of his logic are prcsei ved in Ilavlev's "Life," I., 3C1. 46, 26, The clear harangue. Error, 1. 19f. Quoted from the Progress of 47, 14. The Stoical. The Hitoical philosophy of Zeno (about B.C. 30S) and liis disciples: " Men should be free from passion, unmoved by joy or grief, and submit without complaint to tlie unavoidable neces- sity by which all things are governed." 47, 14. CyniCfa,] . The Cynical philosopliy of Antisthenes (born 444 n.c ) of Atliena and his disciples: "Virtue 5- the only good ; the essence of virtue is self-control ; pleasure is an evil if sought for its own sake, so that riches, arts, etc. are to ho despised." 47, 15. Epicure'an. The philosophy of the school of Epicu'rua (341-270 i!.c.): "Pleasure is the only possible end of rational action, and ultimate pleasure is to be free from disturbance." 47, 16. Juvenal. One of the greatest Latin satirists (40-125 A. D.). Ills satires lasli the vices of his day with wonderful force and wit! 47, 17. Swift's Gulliver. The rravels of Lemwl Gulliver, by Jonathan Swift (16G7-1741), the great dean of St. Patrick's, Dublin. It is of interest as a romance, but the romance to Swift was only a vehicle for satirizing the manner of his own times, which he does with mer- ciless vigour and at times coarseness. 47. 18. quintessence (hvin tes'em). 'The pure and concentrated essence.' (Originally in philosophy the fifth (L. quintus) essence, neither earth, air. fire, nor water, but something bright and incorruptible beyond these), o NOTRH. 130 the Pro(j'>'€S8 of 47,19. Day of Judgment. ]). L'5!>, uil. Scott. Swift'.s poem so entitled, vol. xiv., "With ,1 V hill of thouifht oppress'd I Huiik fniiii n'\(rii. to rot. A lioriM vision scizi'il iii\ hc.ul, I saw tin. ^iPincs (,iv,. „|, their ,l(.;i,| i Jove, arm ,1 uiti, icrroir, h„rsts th.. Hkirs, And UiiUKlcr roars uud nnhtninj.' (lit-s ! Amazed, coiifnst.,!, its fm,. unknown, The worl.l stands tr.nihlin- at his throne ! While each pale sinner Ininc liin head, Jove nod.lin- shnt the heavens, an.l said ; Offendlnj; race of human kin.l, l!> nature, reason, le.aininj;, l.lind ; Vou who, throu-h frailty, stei.p'.l aside: And .you, who never fell from i)ri(i, : Vou who in different seets were shanun'.l. And eomo to see eaeli other damn'd ; (.So some lolks told v.m, hut thev knew No more of .loves desi;;ns than \ ou ;) -The world's mad husinesa now is o'er, And I resent these pranks tm more. —I to sueh hloekhe.ails set my wit ! I damn sueh fools !-Go, so you're bit." 47, 21. Horace (05-8 b.c). The famous Latin poet and satirist. author of odes, .sat.res, and epistles, marked by urhanity, graee. and c.iltii Lpicurcan philo^rpliy. 47, 27. Retired Statesman. See Ritirement, .'iG-oif. llii' Idnlc, I he Wniter Kveiiiug," 1. D() ff. n^\?"^' ,,^^«^0PS are bad, etc. See Cowper'H letter to the Rev. Wm. Unwin, Doe. 18, 17N4, eoneerning Bishop Bagot. ,.'*?' Q- Cretans. Paul quoting the poet Kpi.nenides says of the Cretans that they are " ahvay liars, evil beasts, slow bellii" Titus 48 10. golden stall. Fixed seats often elaborately carved in the cho.r or chancel of ,v eatltedral or church, are termed " st.lls " 7he.e are oeeup.e.l chiefly by the clergy. Sp.ncer Cowper, son of the trilit- ' "" ''""* "' ''"'■''"'' '''''-''"'■ '''''' ^-^^^ !« ' Humility may clothe an English dean ; That Krace was Cowper's-his eomesse'd by ail- Though placed in golden Durham's second stall.' a Truth, U8 a, 140 f-'OWPKR. 48, 11, Warren Hastingrs. S.,.. /•„ Warm, llaHnnns, Globe ctl, p. ;w;<. rnn,?' ^^' <^°wper's brother. S.c, 7V„. Tad-, "Timo Piece," 01)1(11. 48, 13. Oowper's brother. Sue IG, 24, and note. 48, 16. lines ajrainst Popery. See C'owpoi'a works, c. r)17t'. 48, 19. smoking, i^to. Sco Cmrn-mllun, 2m\. IJut ('..wiiti- scarculy oxcu.s.s Mr. liuH's siuokiug ; cf. hi.s letter to the Jlev. \Vm Unw.n, .JuM„ H, ly.s:}. Me e.xc.s.s it in Xewt.,,., later, .f Sept. IS, 17«|.' 48, 21. Fox. <'luirle.. Jaines h..K (l7l!»-l,S0(i), the .state.s.nau ainl orator, rival of tl.e youn^.r I'itt. aa.l -tlio great-.st .lel.ater tl.o worl.l .^yer s^tw (I'.urlu.). Se. < V.wper'. letter to the Itev. .John Newto... 48,23. idol of his cave. A phfaseof Franeis Hacon(I5(;i-l«'>«) a the ellort to attain truth the philosopher mu.st sweep away the phani toii.s of the hm.ian nniul, i.loLs (rUlola) of the trihe. or of tl,e eave etc that IS, false notions inei.len t to luunanity in general, or errors inei.lent t.', the peenhar eonstitntion of the in.livi.lual. a. hi.s ten.lency to look on H).eeial ol)jeets with jiartiiMilar satisfaetioii, etc. v."*?' M^;, 'L^.°^ ^"^^^ *^^ country," ete. (^uote.l from Th, I live, " I he Sofa," ]. 7.1!>. 49, 15. How shall I speak thee. (Rioted from 7%. I'ra,,,. of Error, ]. 4(il)ir. -^ 49, 27. Emmaus. A village some eight nules from .lerusalen. owan s wh.eh two .li.sciples were going when Christ appeared to then,.' JjIIK(; _4. I.ilr. 49, 30. one of his letters. To La.ly JIe.sketh, Aug. 1, 17G.1. 5D, 33. Honrarth's picture. See n..te 7, ."U. " This is' •. ,ie «erapt..a to the nunutest detail, of the two prominent ligures in Jfog.arth s Morning."_|!enhani, (;i,,ho ed., p. .-,17. 50, 37. "Yon ancient prude." (iuote.l from Tnu/, i i.3iir 51, 13. "Petronius." Quoted from rnt^A. \. im iY. Petronius was a proihgate ' P.eau Brunnnell.' n.aster of eourt eleganees to tiu'- LmperorNoro, lie killed himself a. i. ()(j. 54, 1. Anti-Thelypthora. Sec aiol.c ,.,]., p niiO Mirtin Madan had published in 17Si t.vo largo voh„u, . t„ wiuch he added a NOTES. 141 oted from TIk '".luavoure.ltoHluwthat.'.ol '"' ^^'"•'•""■1"' "• which ho 54, 3. pasquinade. A h».u,,o„„ ,„■ Hatirc. rr- '-'--• 54, 10. passage in Charity, (^...td ..„ i-. (;(,. 54, 23. temper the wind f r« +i, . u I'"".- i.s iVon. ,su....K.. Av,.™?,/i°,, ^«,,«horn lamb. T,,o li""i the Fivnuh. '""'/'''//, but it cincs .)ii;5imilly ...l,fttl',!^!„f,!;:«:,t, „:;:;;.;;„:j;'^ «■-'"' '."i..«» .t™...„, f^HAI'TKU V. 55,27. verses addressed to her. The ]i..e.s b..„. „..,, " IHH.. Anna Lotuven fn.n,| :umI ,n..,„l," c.-loi.e ,.1., ,, ,,:- o5, 3 ''that part," etc. Qu„t..i f.o.u (;,nv„or's lotto.- u .. I'lv. John i\f\v tun, Any. 21, 17SI. "wpcr.s letter to the 56,6. salons {-n /w/'M ). The "siin,,"; wl.i.).. after U,- eu.to.u of ^iL., ^ ^^L ^7 J-*-'^/" coi.v..r,s..tiou i.Mlliant a.ul fashionable circ'les of "'"'" ^"^ ^,56, ^13. From a scene, otc. a quotation fro.u a letter to Mrs. )^e .s.n.ed three ,eL for e i T ''"■""•^' '"'" """'^'''■^ ^^ at times woarin.. a woman's . •'" ^u V ^""•■*-'^I""'""g ^vool .-unl skin. ° ' '^"^'*'' ^^'^'^'' <""Pl'=^l« r ^ T _,„-.- , ' jj 1 <- Liic^xoom ot tlio passnig hour. "— Hayley, 142 COWPER. 11., 57. " The original of Jolui Gilpin is said to have been a Mr lieyer a linendrapcr living at the corner of Paternoster Kow au.l Cheapsidc' He died in 1791."— Benham, p. 524. 56, 33. de profun'dis. The opening words of the Latin vul- gate version of Ps. 120. 1 : De profun.lis clamavi ad te Domine. (.„t ot the deep liave I called unto thee, O Lord. 67, 2. Royal George. Wrecked while under repairs off Ports- mouth, 1782, with a loss of nine hundred lives. See Cowper's poems, 57, 11. "commanded," etc. The Taxk, "The Sofa," ]. 1. " For the Fair coiiiniands the sons;." 57, 22. If the work cannot boast. A •■ (fv. 82, 27. Nor rural sighta n. 7Wi, "Tho s„,„,..,. mff o-^;,ffi,en»tt"ZL„ir rr;' "■: ""° ""■ -'^ '""""«- fall.) ^-c.auous. (L. deculum, from de, from, c«r/o. I be^c:euIgrJHK.umUnL T"''''\ *" '^^ ^'^^ '--"It of a cross -ul silence in hZlg.'- "^"'"^' ""^ ""*'^'» ^^ I'—- "f -ent fi? In ^^u "^"^P^°^d- ^'^-- ^'/- ^W-, "The Sofa." 1. ,90ff thftlf The middle field. A classical touch. « t... middle^f < '.^L ' ode "^^^ij'' "''^'^ ''' ''' -r'- reference here is to Come, Even !. 24.W. 66. 3. •Kiiglish lands Qainsboro painter i"gi me. TheTa^t "Tho Winter Even ngh. Thomas (iainsborough (1727-I7S8), oi great genms. ' ■' ' » .*■ ■ " •■•^m- 144 cowpKa 66, 4, Turner. Joseph MivUonl William Turner (1775.18r>l), tho greaio-st of I':iiglit)li piiinters of laii(lsc:i2)0. 66, 6. Crabbe. See note (!, 21. 66,38. skillet. A sniiill metal vessel used for stewing, etc. (O t. ('.snu'U,-llc, < senile, Lat. snit^tUa, a small dish.) 67, 8. In some passages, etc. This nn.l the quotation in tl,.. following pa.agrni-h arc from Cowper'.^ letter to the Kev. Wm. Uuwu. October 10, 17S4. ' 67, 19. Lope de Vega (lO'pa da m',,,,). The Spanish poet and dramatist (1,)()-J-1(;;{,-,), aiillior of some two th.nimnd dramas. 67,19. Voltaire, ill 21, 17. 67, 28. Walton. Isaac Walton (150.3-1083), author of lives of Donne, \Votton, etc., but especially known for his pastoral treatise on angling, I he. Complete Amjh-r, or the Contemplative Man's Becrealion m winch the author, full of quaint sayings a.vl charming quotations, ia the Angler. 67, 28. White. The Rev. (iilbert White (1720-1793), Endisli naturalist, author of a M'ork on natural history, The Natural ITistm., „f Se/horne. U consists of letters .lescriptive of the parish of Selhon,,. Hampshire, of which the author was rector, and lives by its easy charm' ing style. o,^l' ^h '"^^^^S of *he conventicle." Quoted from 7% Jii^A; " Ihe Time- Piece, ^' 1. 43(i If. ' To mo is odious as the nasal twaii;; Heard at conventicle, where worthy men, .Misled l>y custom, strain celestial themes Throu','li the pressed nostril, spectacle-bestrid.' 68, 19. "Old whig". .Burke. Of. 103, IG, 24. On the troubles arising fi.mi the French Revolution, the chief Whig families joined with the Tories to oppose all changes. 'J'hese Whigs were the ' Old ^^ higs. ' 69,3. apocalyptic hallucination. Visions characterized by wjl.l lights ot the imagination, somewhat, according to the author resenildirig the revelation to John. 69,6. "an extramundane character." Quoted from Cowpers letter to the Rev. John Newton, March 11, 17S4 'Kxtrv mumlane' (Lat. vMra, beyond, mnnda., world), 'belonging to a ref>e Lat. l,.>,/,a, water, especially cLar spHn, Wat ,/ wal a wormtc name for any ]i.,uicl tl,at eighteenth clntury writ ,« who aisaa.ue.1 a simple vocabulary, wished to praise. ' Sweet converse, sippinjf calm the fia-iant lynii.I..' -Tue Task, "The (iaidcn," 1. 391. r^^' •^?", P® waggoner, etc. From T/u- Tasl; " The Winter Lvcunig, 1. .350 ff. ' ^ »vuKer 70,31. St. Pierre. Bernanlin de Saint l ,. i7'i7 i«i i\ Ut.,.ian. yet with a genuine feeling for nature wM<;. ^^^X:^ P...tray lu its personal relations with n,an. His one work . ge ^^ " / nul et I .r,^,ne xa which are painted upon a l.ack-.ound of rich trop ! cal vegetation the ulyllic figures of two sweet naturll lovers. ^ vlnxlr^" ^^mi"^^ garden, etc. Quoted from The. Ta.sk, "The "U^',^' w'n^^."^** ^^^ enter," etc. Quoted from The Task \\ inter Walk at Noon," 1. 5(50 If. ' W.l}?'nf.T''"^^ Of Werther (m>- ta-). m, Lad.n a.s Juuocn n//u>. ihe Sorrows of young AVerther, by (ioethe (174!)-183L') 'j?,is .crnian story, completed in 1772, was an epoch-making book. A sin I story of a man's unfortunate love, it was the cpuotess'nee of t he "n^ -.tahsm of Rousseau, and evoked a wave ^f sentiment thr:.:C; thJIich /^°°?^^«; , ^^•^"''^^'•^ "f ^ l'«^^erful chib of supporters of the I lench Ilevolut.on, taking its name from their meeti,,.' p ace a h-dl n. a former Jacobin monastery, Paris. It supported IN.Ccl n C i N;^:z:::,;;dri::r"^"^^""'--^- •-- ----- > n'lu T^''" ' •''' *'^' ^""'-■^'^ "'"^ *'"^ ''^''-■l«''«t tones of majesty w. h all the softness and elegance of the Dorian flute. Xariety wit) ..«; S. u;:::::;::7f1:;:r^^^^ ^'^^'-^^^ ^^ vii,ii."_Letter tc^he .«. 146 COWPE 72, 30. the Hagrue. hi Ilolland, the residence of the court. 73, 2. Mr. Eose. Cf. JOO, 14. "Samuel Rose, the son of Dr Wilhan. Lose a «clK.ol.n.aster at Cheswick. coming „p f...,,., Cil t poet of O ney, and bringing hun the thanks of son.e Scotch professors The poet took warmly to him. and wrote him several judicirs le I p". of adnce about his studies. Kose gave him a cop^ of th I : delight. , be friendship between them became so c.rdial thaf. he sto... godfather to one of Rose's children ; an-^ when a pension o£, un„l,r.sl, li.n.. spcUc, winch, sadly dear, -M.v soul ini-lil kw|), „r mtoi- with u tour Wlii.h iR'wr, iii'VLT could Ipu lost in iilr, J'ix'il ill my heart, mid oft rupwitud there!" Cowper translates : " It.viiiif, thou iicithfr (hd.st thy arms uxtiiirl Forth from thy hod Mor -avost mo pirrimts word To he romomhorod day and night with tears." F. W, Newman gives : " Nor diddest, dyh.j:, fn.n, the hod roac . out thy han.l to ton,.), me. Nor wh.si.or any .ecv,-! wor.l, which, I, thy Ion., sur^ iv„f Mnjht every day and every ni-ht in tears an.l i.laint romoml.er." wi?.?. ^^' i?^T\®: Lat., a key, or translation. "If you could meet wi . a.seeon.l-hana \ ,r«.l, ditto Homer, l.oth Ilia.l and Odyssey, together u-Uh a Uavis, for 1 luive no Lexieon, and all toleral.ly cl.eap. I shall he obhged to yot, If you will ,naUo the purchase. "-(Jowper. to the R.y Wm. Unwm, .Sept. .3, 1780. 83, 17. periwigg-ed. Having the faults of formality and afFecta- tmn natural to an ago m which men were formal aud atrecte.l in dress as shown, for example, in their wearing full Migs. thffsl.? 1 "o ^^}^f^°:^ I«l^- ^'^'yi^'-'' i" mythology, was ,p.een of the island ()g>,g.a (perhaps (Jozo, near Malta), on which, when irecked Ulysses spent seven years. The .quotation is fro.u Od^j...,, tr. Cowper, s. K^fl;ccSS^ ^'' ''"' "^- ^ ^''■'p ^' """"*^'"°"« ^''""^^^^ - ^'- 83, 24. Hermes. The god Mercury. 84, 12. lymph. See note 70, 14. 7 f ^' }^: ,^Omance metre. The fonr-acccnt line in rimed cou,.- lets, adopte.l by Scott iu his romantic poems. ^ o^eJ^:, /^^.P^^agement by. . .Johnson. In .Johnson's Ur,:. of LML„,,nAi^.,.. M, thought LijnUus harsh and vuh^ar the best of the sonnets, ' not had,' etc. '' NOTES. 149 s country in the CHAPTER VII. 86. 7. Horace Walpole. n„n«H; Walpole (1717-1797) was Innl son of the great st.tesn.u. „f the name. Out of nuw.y books, Lis Lfcr. which arc full of the society and gossip of his day. Ine retain 86, 8. St. Simon. Louis .le Kouvroi, ,luc de Saint Rinion (1075. 1- o), statesman under J.oui.s XIV., devote.l to the cau.se of ari,.tocratic governn.ent of Lrance. His n.en.oirs, while of the greatest historical va ue. arc hkew.se of the greatest literary vah.e ; ho reneoples Xcr- seniles, givnig life, colour, form, to it., personage and inei.lent.s. 87, 14. Madame de Sevign^. A fan...u.s French centle- uo.nau (IGiO-lG-JO), a ,thor of aseries of letters lille.l with such vivacity u It, and j,ictnre.,iue grace, that she has been called the mo.t charminc ktterwnter that has ever lived. 88,16. Imprimia {im pri' wis). Latin adverb, 'in the lirst place {iii-\-jjrhiu(s, lirst). 02, 1. Eliza. His sister. 92, 11 The Colubriad. Globe ed., p. 34G. The nan.e (l.at. cohiher, adder) suggests the nature of the subject. 92, 28. Nigrht Thoughts. The mo.st famous work of Edward Noting (1084-170-)), rector of Welwyn. 94, 32. Liliputian. 'Of minute size,' as in the kingdoni of -.Ihput, lu Sw.fts Ga/thrr, where the people were but six inches in iieight and everything was in proportion. 95, 9, Ely. On the Ouse, in Cambridgeshire. fl^^; ^°*. u'"" *^f"«i*' "*'^- The Latin proverb, 'So passes away the glory of the world.' ^ 96, 1. Priam. King of Troy at the time of its siege by tho 96,2. Nimrod. Nimrod. the Cushite, founder of Babylon. Gen 98, 3. scratch-back. "A toy which imitates the sound of pe'ri." "'' ^^ '^'■''''"^' '' '"''''' *'"^ ^'""'^ '^ unsuspecting ( KSl 1-1820), during the final insanity of George IJI. i: f. ii 150 COWPKU. 96 8. cam'era obsCU'ra. An ai.paratu« by whichthein.ag.H..f external objects are thrown l.y moony of a lens upon a white surfaco within a ' darkene.l chamber ' (cauieni (.bscura). so that their outlines may be traced. 98, 25. men of Gotham. Cotham i.s a village in Nottingham- shire, whose uayings and doings have become proverbial for foolisluK-w. 97,17. Silver-End. See 35, i. 97, 21. Amazon fury. A passion appropriate to an Amazon, ((ik. AiiuCMii, one of a fiibidous race of women warriors in Scythia.) 98,7. the French philosophers. A reference to the brothers Ktien'nc and Joseph Montgollier, who on June 5th, 1783, sent up the first balloon, which set tho scientists thinking and evoked great national entlnisiasm. 100, 17. the disputo between the Crown and the Commons. The struggle (17S4) in which the country was engaged was that of ritt, supported by the king and by the people, against an adverse majority in a corrupt and uurepresentativo Commons.— Green, X., iii. 102 25 Kaunitz. ^Yenzclills, Prince Von Kaunitz (1711-1794), a great statcJman, Austrian andxv.ssador at Paris. ^ His power was so great that ho was called 'the Euroi)cau coach-driver.' 103, 12. Priestley. Joseph Priestley (17.33-18C4), a dissenting ministt'r, scientist, and philosophic writer. He opposed IJurke's Hrjlcc- tions on the French L'eruhUioiu and was honoured by the French Republic with the title of citizen, which brought on him, in the excited state of political feeling, the hatred of the English mob. They broke into his house, destroyed books, instruments, etc. His last years were spent in America. 103, 19. "extramundane." Cf. 69, G. 107. 9. Vive vale que. The Latin salutation, • Farewell and he happy.' CHAPTER VIII. 107, 25. secun'dum ar'tem. Lat., 'according to rule,' •scientilically.' 108, 16. Hayley. ^Villiam Hayley (1745-1820) was a native of Chester. He made Cowpors acquaintance on liearing that the iattc: coutemplatod e.liting Milton. Hayley was then living at Eastham, where he was visited by Cowper, and he himself was often at Weston. N0TE3. 151 Crown and the ,ti(>n, ' Farewell and be ■ accoi iliug to rule,' 109. 10. Hurdie. The Rev. John HurdiB HTfil l«nn of Bshopscate in Suaaer ,.r,.t^a t """^"'^ (I7().3-1801) was rector tii^tW;.f ^Sttlf?"^- ,^j;- «"''"■' -'-lied in 1806, was Manor Hou.e, mZ,-:;:!:, ^'"^^ ^^^^^ ^^'^ pleasure.-^/. OIU 109, 12. Romney. See note 6, 19, whence it is .I..^ r th f .- per was s.mply drawn in crayons, not "pdnted " * '^'''• 1C», 32. Leigh Hunt. Leigh Hunt (1784-1859), poet and critic in " rfoflf • ®^^«^^°^- I* --1 East Dereham are sn.all towns .luJiiftlfeVtwl^^^I^^^^^^ Adn.ir.a,Oeorge Anson was ordered Au.erica. With seve./:e:s:;:i;:^,*:;x sr^r::r""^ many neh prizes, returned to England cireu'nn.avSrg^ ".Z ""« voyage was important in navigation, and has receiv.?! l! t ^ supervision, and from his materials by the Po. M av u "* liobins. The passage on which 7^ Z / "'*''' °' ''^ ^- our ablest seamen was canted n!' ^i ' '" *''" ''^'-''="*'"" «^ '*■ «»*^ "^ assisting him. Luked ^^0^^ ""''"'""' "'-^^^^^^^^^ considerable time longer Tthehn "'f ^ T"*""" '""'^^^■' '"' ^ Situation...-.,^. ;>::;;^.:^- ^:-^^^ ..115^. 9. inscription by Hayley. Quoted in Southey's CWper. In- Mkmort op William Cowprr. Ye who with warmth the public triumph feel Of talents (iijfnifled by sacred zeal. Here, to devotion's bard devoutly just Pay your fond tribute rhie to Cowper's dust I England, e.xulting in his spotless fame 152 COWl'KIl. ni i KankH witli lirr di'.irest m mu liU favourite name, Sense, fancy, wit, sutflee not all to raiwe So cluar a title to atTeclion's praise ; His hi|,'lieMt honours to the heart lieloiiK'. IliH virtues furni'd the magic of his song. 115, 16. even in his aahes. An echo of (Jray andChauoer. 'K'eii in our asiied live their wonted flren,' Eleijii, xxiii. ' Yet in our ashen told is lire yrelten.' Prologue to tlic Rtves Tale, 1. 28. 115, 25. vessel of honour. Of. Uom. 9. 21 ; 2 Ti. 2, 21. J my and Chaucer. APPENDIX. A COUnsK OK KSSAV WORK I.ASKI. O.V SCOTT'S " KHyfLn'OnTrf /.Vn OOLDWIN SMITHS "rjf'M of COW I' Hit." INTUODLXTION. Ivr! n!r. of '"•"'"' "^ •'' '"^'-^ ^'"- -^'^y ^-^^ «P- up very ; b an, '''"'"""*■:"• ^-""■'--•'/' '-"KB Lack Jhc r..,„ .l^^ J./.abcth. ami wo are lutroduco.l to a won.lerfnlly complex pi.tme „f a Bovero,gn-s rule. Tl.e well-kno.n ua.nes of'^Italei'l,; Loi " o i.urle.«h, become l.ving .ignres. we ph.nge into the in^-i.n.e.s ft: Z^Z *^ ; ^'-t„e- -.1 littleucss of its sovereign. ..? f.,,.i .t ^.rtnues of the heaut.fnl an.l unhappy Amy Robsart. Tho Life of Co.pn- on the other han.l, deals with forces that are still w rking an t. greatest poe, ,s an evcr.nereasing power, and the reaction fron. the cold formahty of the school of Pope and the eity poets to nature nnd 1 e sunpler affect.ons of life, of which his poetry is an early an.l p . ,^ exponent. . stdl a vital elen.ent in literature. Hi.. L. thon,) full o n.c.dent, as n.teresting. for it was so simple and true that i appeals to us m n.any ways. His interest in his garden, in bis hares m Ins fronds, n. the beauty of rural seenes-th:se nil touch human hearts, and stir our own affection.. r,nt while in KenU.orth we have niral life and the world of books. We have therefore in these two works an introduction to many facts. kZvn'p'?' ''™;'^\«'^-« °1'1 '-^ -"-'-"-n, some new and uuknown Before plunging into the work of composition on the mass of material that ,s presented him, the student must clearly see the direction and manner in which he must guitle his work. Composition involves two elements-thought and expression. These knents are a duality, yet an inseparable .Uiality. Improve the taought and you better the expression ; clarify the expression and the [ 1 o3] / 104 COWPER. thcuglit l)ecnmcM more cfluctivc. Rut while this ia true, it in likowiso true tliat tlic attention of the iniiid can bo conscioualy directed to one or tiie otiier of the olomeiits, and that one clement may bo specially trained by one kind of fitudy, and tlic other by another. For the culti- vation of thought, books furnish the most convenient and perhaps tlu' greatest of nieiiin. Ho many acute thinkers and keen observers have lived in this world and have reconlod tiieir thoughts and observatinns in books, tliat one of our lirst duties as rational beings is to assimilate' with what speed and power we may, the tiioughts and observations of (iod-gifted men. So ih)ing, wo rise on the shoulders of the part mud widely and truly survey the present. Knowing the thoughts and sympatliics of many minds, we shall gradually attain to a justness and openness of mind and a taste for high thinking and for perfect expression that characterise the man who reads widely and well. It is given to few to be original, to have a mind spontaneously sug- gesting new thought, new combinations of thought. Yet wo all wish to achieve originality. Now, originality that is worth anything is not to be had by abstention from the work of others. Every great poet, painter, or nmsician works with the spirits of the great dead moulding his thought and guiding his fingers. He has developed his own nature and trained its powers by intercourse with the work of the past. Similarly we may, in our feeble way, seek to assimilate the thoughts we read, and by thinking up to their level, living up to and through them, come to have the right to do with thcni as we please. When wo have won the power of using the i"' words of ordinary intercour.s., o.,o le. " v , »-y<".'l tl.o «.- ,,. -nlH a„.l the niu.ingH <.f w .r d 1 h rV,' ' ,'" i "T"^ '-«••«-- f M.ra«e. tl.e nn..sical than o t .e s \^^^I 'T''"' "'"'" *'"' '-•'^>' ^n.,n bookH alone. Tl.er., J, t :. :*' '^T'! '^ f'^^ '* ' -' '• -i""«ly - the .„axin.s of art, tl^ rull dd^^^Jh :,■";: ^ l'"" "": ' ' The preacriptioii of hooks to serve as a ],.,s;« ,.f •.• . ia ».«l.e.l, totheearefnl reading of In"..;;''""''''''' '^.'"'^' '* t..e hest thoughts they cont,^, and :; ^1 t \:;' ::' ^T'T 8^'t^'''«tie8 of slavish ..Hginaiandi.^:,;:! In Lr;e'^:^i;zTrr'r' '" ^"^'^ ''^ *'- con>positio„ of his own w 11 Z L! L 't """*"■• ''"^"'"^ ^ia copy .iU be. as a rnl" a'l^Zlf . : i^, ^^"t^t ^"1 its rirntotvno R.,<- +i, • image — .i caricatiuf! of 11.0 jiiocoiype. jiut there is a consn itir.n ;.. +i • n work isthns. And the nK,re ac I f V'^ ' apprenticeship the form and hues of the or JLl^^ "•"' f't.lure to reproduce 1 act.ce go on. surely teaeh us in son.e measure hw tV I rid " the ^..-. and ,n son. measure how to approach the graces oX;^^: M,u,y minor rules of c^^^ ,,„,, here be brought forward, bu. n. h.s^attont.on to the margin of his paper, the indentatiot of his ^ hi t i V } --iigr : ;: ; ! i [ 1 156 COWPER. graphs, ami tha punctuation of hig sentcncos. Often mi.stakoa aro made in tliese matters from ignorance, but n.ore frequently they arise from the lack of any feeling for form and finish in one's work. ^Goo, stdted s ylo hulhngus wnte sensibly, naturally, as sensible, healthv people should It easts out slang-tho weeds that .eek to [.hoketh:. to words. It makes ns eschew tl.oso trite quotations tliat, by too pent use, have lost the grace and perfume with which they'^.nce eould bnghten dull prose. If in addition to attending these nntters the student will strive to write clearly and with whatever stre ^ : [ oxpressum he can n. his hours of greatest mental vigor bring to bc^u h wdl lad a p'.asure ,n his work, and a satisfaction when he reads it aloud to hnnself or to a sensible friend. In tin.es of discourage "in should remen.ber two things : First, that our language is a pcrf^c r- mcn of expression-perfected by centuries of use, by multitudes of people and especially by n.any great geniuses, so tlL there s thought he can tiunk for which there is not a perfect and eon plj e expression. Second, tln.t a powe. to write well, because it is ba 3 o. a pow.M- to th.nk justly on nature and human life, is, accordi, ',! t " testimony of the ages, that power which humanity ehc^^-i^. most precious of all its faculties. KINDS OP COMPOSTTTON. The interest that we find in Kmihoorfk and the Life of Cowpor arises from a variety of causes. It is now an interest in the appearance , character of the personages that the writer evokes ; now'in the sc s o jtT " T f *"r" '^"'""'^^'^■^ ''''' *^^'^ P-* ' -'^ <^Sa- 't i ! Zl ■; "? ""^ ao -omplishments that calls forth ouHnterest and absorbs our attention. These different kinds of interest are not nec"s sanly kept apart and distinct ; rather they are intermingled, givil Xl n turn to one another, so that out of the blended skem of pers^o. age ene, and incident arises the variegated and beautifully woven fab S tscba.a te, ; we can easily notice that it consists (a) either in what people places or things are, or appear to .le eye or niind to be ") ITn vhat people do: m other words, in («) the .Icscription of i „ ivid ," the incidents thn constitute the life of tue personages of IJie story A one or other of these predominates in the woven 4ric of the no^^el t APPEVni.V. 157 1 he interest we havfl i., „ -S-,ye.nKh.en listen to storiL ^t 0^^^ ^^"? - think i.o. .sh,a.lowy existence in.loe.l l,nt in I I c'""-aeters have a very tf ;i«iWo a,pe,U to the in a ' tion a": 1 '"' '"'"''^"^■^ •"'^'- - - elaborate .lescn,tio„s. This^^^'d,: ' '"" "'""^""" ^'^^^ ""B the easier an,l „,ore fas i. ul tii ^ of ' ^"''""'•''^' *'"^* ^-•-- for a monient at Narration. " ^ «o'ni>osition. Let us look ^'ARRATIOX. Narration Di'Jincd Narraf ■suceessive details that \;,akVrn 1 in TT"'*'*'"'' '^^ ^^'"''•'^ «f tl>° """•''• '-nefly. the story of action 1,1 "'' '"'"' "^ "'cidents- -i-lon, his novels L m^UZ::;:^:^ V''""''' '^ ""^^*"- '>^ ove.l action, I.rave, stirring, hero etjo n T 7' '''"'"''' ''^ ''""-'"f I'-n fron. -"UM-fln's narratives t'twd" , '" '"" "''■•^* '^'^ -" "t the art of the Wizard of th.. Noj-th I '' T /" ""<''^-t-"l a little A S^nv . X..UU..V.OV .- T.. "^ o p"^ '^'^ ^'^'^'"^'^• Iii/n„f,i,-/„rii IMuUfi li'lnilfi: f'oncht. ■non Ti-cssiJian attonii)ts to Icavo fT,„ Cunnior Hall \vhon V ^'^ S^-f-'iiKls ot postc^n-doo.: ' ; ,s w, Tr'^ ?'*^'-^ ■■^t tl>e quest ons from .-iPh p 1. '"''"wed hy once; theseTli.tJi^th: h M^'r'^ '"-^'^^ ^>the<.ther,anda.^^;:o!;^f^::^:;;^^^;;;o advantage ihe.f' «'^''^\'""i «•'* first the '"V;'M>-ent?:,^tS: . TsSit'oh'''^^'' ''^ am ns trained skill „uher<'^ti J rS >ainey, otitdon'' n skill +..; '"'^"apici. greater strength I,; cl' ^, /■'• "^^" '''« ilis (cvico won 1,1 1. Y' *'' '"st'noniy. silian hit f ,e kit '"' ^■■^'•'*' *" ''''•-«- Who parried the ow ti nlrfY'"'"^^- hiin, and then usini. I, 1 i' ^ <'<'-^I'ateh wrestler, threw Var„"\V ';;'"''•' ''^'^' ''■'' " ''■^'1 hin, at his mernv ^ ^"^ *'*° gro«nd«nd •mmt) \ mercy. I^-imhonnm .ip|-,ears to i, ^'"-icy. and Tressilian Varn "'Tf.?^'!«'"^'^«-"«u;-cC;;; and (1 nterferc seeing iparti "11 behalf of the nscless- '■'13 on his heel I' 158 COWPER. Se,^ceKccof DHaUs.-In this rough analysis wo notice first that the the oule. of then- occurrence. Hence the prin.o hiw in narration :- Eule 1 -Z>.- ^« ■» .leepenin, step h, .tj:^;^^:::''^''''''^''''''''^' Iressihan's favour; this is a.l.lo.l /,"'"*• , ^^« ai-o prcUsposed in Then in the d„el-the tide of Se fir Ti^f """^. '" *''^ '^^''^^- the other, swaying ],ack to Va "v , f r"" "^ "'^ "»^' t'"^" «f t!.i«alternatH««f fear«u hoJ tlf; -f"""^ '^"^"^ *« Tr^ssilian-in ;--; till Just at the e.:: I'r/n "1^"' ^"^ --^— «»-% Lambourne appears to end the Td a^ ' "."T " *" '" '''''^l'''^^^'^'-^ that \'ar„ey'a doom is only tem or 'ril ^^"^"f /^'^'-^PP'^l^ted, we fee] tlKU the reader nmst be 1 ad 7?^ "^ "7*"'- ^'''^ '^'-'«' ^''-^'^-e. culnunating point of the story 'r "• "T'"'* '" "'^'^^^^ ""^il th '•-he.l. and the outcome a La.u IT ~" '."■''' *'" '^^'"""^'-'^ - "vcr, no hint is given hs wo f "' '"' ^^-^itement. More- "f the outeome. 'e ei-y rt f thTf: ""'' *^ '■*'^^^' «^ '^^ -^ure '-full the hero is carefully .^^t /so ::r^ ''^'^-*''-^* - to ••"•""sc the imagination. The E , of' tl ' }'"'''' "'^ "'*^^^'«' ''^"'1 "- we say. the plot -c j;::!^;:^-:----^^ -'■^ion. of the chief personanes. 7a I £ '" "''"' '"''" "^""^ ^^- ""•'•'".-.'•"^ hn,>orlance so that th/., ' '^''"''•^' '" '^'« ^'•'^"- ^'/ /-•.vo««ye. 0/ .Ae narratil ^^" ""'' '"'''''' '" ''"' /"'« '^Z '/- Stcdies avd Exercises tv Nauratiox. II, in IV. V. VI. VII. 'Si':::?'Kl^:::^:::r"'!^''<'''«"^F„w. m„„ ... , " ^' "'"""J s Msit to Tony Tresmhan s Encounter with Wayland Smith Waylandan.l the Jewish Chemist. ^%;d::;rs^:f«^'*^'^^"-"^^''-^^*H- Elizabeth's Vi.sit to Sussex. Wayland in Cumnor Hall. uo COVVPEft. VIII. The Flight of the Countess. IX. Queeu Kli/abeth'r, Visit u, Kenilworth. Yr ■ 11''' ,^""»tf « Amy's Interview with Elizabeth. XI. ihe Lute of the Countess of Leicescer. Life of Coioper. .lint ' t!; „ ' . ,r if ° ",' '" "'■■"' "' '""'■"■ '• """"•• »"' '■•■ XII. Cowpv.. s Early Life. '^l^'Z'Zf^''"Tfr' ^'^-''*-y«ifts; eharacter- istics (It nature ; school days. C'owjjer i:i f.aw. jnner lemple; tho Nonsense Club. Cowper's Insanity. Cireumstanc-P precipitating the first attack (the elerkshin to Journals, etc.); its n.ature. whether rel g . ' ! Physxcal; subsequent attacks; general results' on hi! Cowper at F-rntingdon. Conditions of his life on his recovery from his first attack of anccs thcie , ,el.gu,us associations ; Mr. and Mrs. Unwin Cowjier at Olney. Hoasons for ren.oval ; Mr. Unwin's death ; the Rev John Newton ; nature of their surroun,lings ; Olney ly^^ «lop.arture of Newton ; Thomas S,Jt • / ^ ' authorship. '*'"' incitement to XVII. Cowper's Literary Career. (Only the general outlines of the story need here be taken un leaving the consideration of individual works tillSl XIIL XIV. XV. XVI. APl'ENDIX. IGl me extent ns in Yet it may not irest throng], a 3 should not Ix; I the incidents ! success of liitj irsgivea well- s; character- owpei's ; the lie clerkship religious or mlts on his "st attack of id acquaint- frs. Unwin. T>ev. John ey hymns ; itcment to R taken up, till later.) XVIII. the world of lott;rs "" "^""^"''•'^ l'^'"-' '" Cowper at AVeston-CIosing Years Mrs. U„„i„ . ,i„,tl, „< ,. ""^''-y I""!""; 'Iraitli „f DESCIIIPTION. fron. narration. .hLh C- .t lii: ' "' '^T'^' ""' *'^'^^''^ •"«-- "ote ^to.y the background J^'h: :^;;::"i; i t "" ^'---^^--f the A>«u.^ortA. ^ ^'^scnpfons that intersperse the narrativg in (ii) O'i'ucnd Introd.fciion, l/ioiiiij the ijeneral eXt'ect. The. Conclusion, [Tlif plol-intprest is, of course, aliiiosi quiescent in Descriiition.] COWPEK. A SrtJDv IN DKsciiiPTiov : Kenii,wokth (U.stle. (Kenilwurth, Chap. .YAT.) The ijiiiioely castle appcai i in siglit. Its magiiificonce is sug'jcsted. Outer wall, iuclof^^i tig stables and plcasme- gardoij ; ))ase-c( lilt. The u.istlo itself, a Lnii," pile of luildings (general effect) its chief Tlie en- lake, the 8U.^.,i)ud>;ur a court-^ rird fea*:itu ill virotw; of cliapc, tioep (d'.;tavis). iiji oastie, the ConKaeiitij on tho pi;t,iire of the jjrescnt dcsohitioji of the castle, furnish Ijy con- trast a completion of tho picture of its anciejjtt niagnilicence. We nv tice, then, that this (Ascription involves a methodical prescnta- ti<'U of tlu' scene, following the scheme of (i) Theme., (ii) General Inlroduction, (iii) Details, (iv) Suh>niar>/ or Conclmion. Some such plan as this is of groat advantage to a writer as he composes.* It guides him aright in the selection of details ; for with a definite plan of work before him irreleva.itixirticulars will scarcely occur to him, or, if they do by chance occur, the> will at once be recognized as incongruous. More- over he will ]>c able most easily to amplify his paragraphs from the ideas suggested by the diflferent headings of his plan. From tho reader's standpoint, to'.>, there is a great advantage, since the unified, compact, symmetrical nature of the composition gives him a clear impressive con- ception of tho scene. He feels the composition is a comidete harmoni- ous structure— as well-built, as perfectly balanced as a piece of archi- tccture or a figure in marble. (i^ The Statement of the Theme.— To write clearly and effectively, a writer must know very definitely the tiicme of Ids discourse. Especially in abstract themes it is of decided advantage at once to state the theme and defiue its nature. On the other hand the reader finds such a statement of theme almost indispensable, because without it he cannot * It need scarcely be said that the student, thou-h lio -r- v carofullv plan his essay before setting to «nrk to compose, shniild not. indic.-vto f ~' ■■Wy in his essay that ho is following sucli a plan. The l)est art is ars celare arten, . - ! sn the building is com- pleted take away the scaffolding. 1!..^ APPENDIX. 163 easily unuerstan,! L:. general drift of the writer'^ thon^l.t, nor can ho .-sp JuB«ubse,ucnt .taten.ent. in theirpn.per rdation^hin Tl.cro 1-wcver, as we .nv before, one in.portant e.xeeption to L n. 1 narratjon, where curiosity nn.t be .ronse.I. it i usually ad able to k .p the rea.ler b,r a time in suspense as to the real drift of the storv llu. can b..t ..e done without any definite staten.ent of the the.ne "^^ / . ^'"/f/ \r^^"^" '1 '^"' "'""' ^""^'"' y^" '"'"' O^^'i rm,o,„ to the con trarfi) the thane, of the description. M.) f he General OuHine.-lt is usually helpful to a writer to have before hnn.n general outline the Bce..e he is alL.t to dese b . , . ■ then gu.ded in seleeting those details that will an.olifv .„d i h,.H f the general elFeet of the seene. The reader to 1 ?•'*'' Lelpful, for by it he is enabled most e^ '; o g ^ 1 ' ^ :^::^, •^"";- of the description and to arrange the detLs h! ^i^^^^ r : :Sr and- most important of all-he is Dut inh. flw.f r i. "^ '-"""^'-tion, which the autLr wishes him to^^::er ^^:::::'''' "^ --' - detMdescnptun. and, when po.sihie, , ire theke,,.not, to the de^rjL -d. orave, pathet.c, ron^antlc tonc-l.y means of 'this general outuT (iii.) The Details— (a) The P„i),t nf Vi ,., t ^i lined above we do i.e. lindl^I^ Z^^ ^''T'' T .l..es not enter into nunute details of the history ot,e.«tlem;i'" he describe the interior. It will be noticed t.f, V '. ? ' ''^ whoi. a n.ed point of view, the a;;^:^^^;'^ ^r zri^i:;;: and closely a.lheres to it, rigidly excluding all details not naturay olding themselves from that point of view. To these he add 7s Hections on its ago and ancient owners as would arise in w infor.„ed mind viewing it. The .letails have therefore . uni v ' i proiK.rtion, as in a picture. He n.ight have describ d r^n 1^ ! point of view, brin-r ni' forwinl tl,„ i .<- -i ., '">ni a .'.ni/tinij n'"o i"'"-...ii,.,i enor of Cumnor Hall (see Chanter Iin If , n ''^''.""^"'« tl'c -p^t tn tl.a 1 Z'' ^ '-"^P^eriu.). Jt.ulds a certain narrative est to the description, an.l should be adopted when we wish to ,ive a panoramic view of a Kr.Prr._tn Tirr-Puf "'/'^ L'paratiori l»v reading' the viilr with Kinocril.v ami IH which !\' Series, ontains a Reign, irtli. \