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i-.,
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^
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
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Beri
at J
and
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polit
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Koyi
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Secor
In
Mod(
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porta
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Aniei
of G(
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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<l « ,,o,(e,.
;'.t-m,pli,.ns f„„„ t|„ ,„,.,,.nee o ;,i "' ^ ''™*"""'1»
'""«","'• ""■ •" '-.gll. he tl,re„ ,h. h.l L ';', ''"'■'' "'"' >"''
'"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,
<!n the
rough t
intiier
'', and
stened
3f the
tmont
fition.
rp of
Cowper's life, and remember that he lived to wn-ite John Gilpin
and Tlie Task.
Cowper tells us that "to this moment he had felt no concern
of a spiritual kind;" that "ignorant of on;^iiial sin, insensible
of the guilt of actual transgression, he luulei stood neither the
Law nor the Gospel ; the condemning nature of the one, nor
the restoring mercies of the other." But after attempting
suicide he was seizi'd, as li(5 well might be, witli religious
horrors. Now it was that he began to ask himself whether he
had been g;:ilty of the unpardonable sin, and was presently
persuaded that he luul, though it would be vain to enquire what
he imagined the unpardonable sin to bi\ In this mood, he
fancied tliat if there was any balm for him in Gilead, it would
be found in the ministrations of his ti-it.nd Martin Madan, an
Evangelical clergyman of high repute, whom he had Ween wont
to regard as an enthusiant. His CamUridge brot^ei-, John, the
translator of the llenriade, seems to have had some i)hilosoi)hic
doubts as to the efficacy of the proposed remedy ; but, like a
philoso[)her, he consented to the experiment. Mr. Madan
came and ministered, but in that diHtem])ered soul his balm
turuetl to poison; his religious conversations only fed the
horrible illusion. A set of English Sapphics, written by Cowper
at this time, and expressing his des[)air, were unfortunately
preserved ; they are a ghastly play of the poetic faculty in a
mind uttei'ly deprived of seU'-conti'ol, and amidst the horrors of
inrushing madness. Diabolical, they might l)e termed more
truly than reliirious.
There was nothing for it but a madhonse. The sutlerer was
consigned to the private asylum of Dr. Cotton, at St. Albans.
An ill-clioseii physician Dr. Cotton would have l)een, if the
malady iiad really had its source in religion; for he was himself
a pious Hiau, a writer of hymns, and was in the habit of
holding religious intercourse with his patients. Cow)»er, after
his recovery, speaks of that intercourse witii the keejiest
Lil
22
*;ABLY LIPK.
l'l«'«"-e and g,,uii„de; « tl,,t i„ .,
«"tt and hope. He ri ^ *"'" "^ " '""« of ,eli.i„„,
"'7 ■"»• I s„„ tl,e «,„„,i, ' ^'""f R'g'"o,.n„,«,, .,,„,„,
'"•"^o. my ).n.do„ in His ll r^ ? *" "'onenient He h„d
of Hi., ju.,ifi.,.,„„ j; ' °'"'- »"< fl'I'.ess and o„„,,„e.e„e ,
7V" l«ngU, .ui.,„ed. |u.o„,!ld "'"'"'"="■''"" "0
";;"'i'». oow,«.. ,,,,„„r ' def " '""°" °' ^■«'"-"
Change, a« in f J,, i ■ , aeaveiance in 77.^ /,
The so,,, ,, ^^ j^^^^ .^^^ ^
Of hatan's.Wk domain,
feelsanew«npi..efo„„,^l
And owns a J.eavenly reign.
'T\ffr1>;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,.. "''• "*'-<! «.t„ ti,„ c„,„,„iy„„
^" ins release from fl,.
^:-.l-d.e, and faiJi„. .f',;?^";^ '-'^-^•s for him at or m.'
-^^--^Io.gHde,«otha^^/^7' '"" ^^^ ^-'ntin^r
^- I-Po.e, the brother. 11^ ':";^^'^'-''''o ^ 1--.^,;'; !
- ;^-ants i. ., ,,„ ,^^^^^ - -t^ e. U.an two tho..a,:,
0«^e, especially to Cowpe,. ';, ^.^'^^.'""'^ «^ ^^'ich wu,
a^t!'-, who Wi
•^ i'ond of hatl
"Jiff.
«s the
Life
'ttended hi,t.
talisman of
'"'•"^ frail and
iiJso broii^rht
J ex(;it.',| J,i«
puftiu^r J,i,„
-tinery was
it'eis to the
> 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 <ear I should never be able to weather out the
winter rn so lonely a dwelling." No man could be less fitted to
bear a onely hfe; persistence in the attempt would soon have
brought back his n.adnes8. He was longing for a home; and a
home was at hand to receive him. It wa* not j.erhaps one of
tbe happiest kind; but the influence which detracted from its
advantages was ti.e one which rendered it hospitable to the
wanderer If Christian piety was carried to a morbid excess
beneath its roof, Christian charity opened its door
The religious 'revival was now in full career, with Wesley for
its duet apostle, organizer, and dictator. WlutefieUl fo.- its
g.-eat preacher, Fletcher of Madeley for its tyi>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.H<nn. Jn the early stages of the movement the Evancrelicals
were to be coented at most by hundreds, the Meth edits by
hundreds of thousands. So far as the masses were concerned
xt wa.s xn fact a preaching of Christianity anew. There w a
cross division of the .arty into the Calvinists and those .1 on
COWPEB.
27
tliG Calvinists called Arniiniane; "Wesloy belonging to the
liitter section, while the most pronounced and veliemcnt of the
Calvinists was "the tierce Topla<ly." As a rule, the daiker
and sterner element, that which delighted in religious terrora
and threatenings was Calvinist, the milder and gentler, that
which preached a gospel of love and hope, continued to look
up to Wesli-y, and to bear with him the reproach of being
Arminiaii.
It is needless to enter into a minut« description of Evan-
gelicisMi and Methodism ; they are not things of the past. If
Evangelieism has now been )-educed to a narrow domain by the
advancing forces of Ritualism on one side and of Rationalism
on the other, Methodism is still the great Protestant Church,
especially beyond the Atlantic The spiritual fire which they
have kindled, the character which they have ju-oduced, the
moral leforms which they have wrought, the works of charity
and philanthropy to which they have given* birth, are matters
not only of recent memory, but of present experience. Like
the gnat Protestant revivals which had preceded them in
England, like the Moravian revival on thts Continent, to which
they were closely related, they sought to bring the soul into
direct communion with its Maker, rejecting the intervention of
a priesthood or a sacramental system. Unlike the previous
revivals in England, they warred not against 'he rulers of the
Church or State, but only against vice or irreligion. Con-
sequently in the characters which they produced, as compared
with those produced by Wycliffism, by the Reformation, and
notably by Puritanism, there was less of force and the grandeiu-
connected with it, more of gentleness, mysticism, and religious
love. Even Quietism, or something like it, prevailed, especially
among the Evangelicals, who were not like the Methodists,
engaged in framing a new organiaition or in wrestling with the
barbarous vices of the lower orders. No movement of the kind
has ever been exempt from drawbacks and follies, from extrava-
¥
28
AT HUNTINGDOK THE UNW1N8.
^
i
gance, exaggeration, breaches of good taste in religious matters, ^1" , ^ \
unctuousiHiKs, and Ciint — from chimerical attempts to get rid *^ J^
of the fle.sli and live an angelic life oii earth — from delusion;. Jy^
about special i>rovidences 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 th<!
a divine
iiplacency
' securely
, Still it
by Evan-
tho evil,
had inoK'
aovemeiit
tb it, any
lonnexion
seived art
n a letter
f himself
1, who is
advance;
it he wliu
formation
dity, that
ness upon
faced his
vangelical
Y Martin
when the
nay have
e malady
fersion to
them©.
At Huntingdon dwelt tlie Rov. William rjnwin. a clergyiniui.
taking pupils, liis wife much yoimgei- than hiiiiscif, and their
son and daughter. It was a typical t'aiuily of the Revival.
Old Mr. Unwin is described by Cowper as a Parson Adams.
The son, William Unwin, was preparing for holy orders. He
Was a man of .some mark, a7id received tokens of intellectual
respect from Paley, though he is best known aa the friend to
whom m-iny of Cowper's letters are addressed. He it was,
who, struck by the appearance of the stranger, sought an
opportunity of mak'ng his acquaintance. He found one, after
morning church, when Cowper was taking his solitary Wfilk
beneath the trees. Under the iiifluence of religious symi)atliy
the acquaintance quickly ripened in*-o friendshi]) ; Cowper at
once became one of the Unwin circle, and soon afterwards, a
vacancy being made by the departure of one of the ))upils,
he liecame a boaider in the house. This position ho had
passionately desired on religious grounds; l)nt in truili he
might well have desired it on economical giounds also, for he
lia<l begun to experience the difficulty and expenslveness, as
well as the loneliness, of bachelor liousekeeping, and financial
deficit was evidently before him. To Mrs. Unwin he vvas from
the first strongly drawn. " 1 met Mrs. Unwin in the street,"
he says, "and went home with her. She and T walked together
near two hours in the garden, and had a conversation which
did me more good than I should have received irom an audience
with the first prince in Europe. That woman is a blessing to
me, and I never see her without being the better for her
company." Mi-s. Unwin's character is written in her portrait
with its prim but pleasant features; a Puritan and a precisian
she was ; but she was not morose or sour, and she had a
boundless ca])acvty for affection. Lady Hesketh, a woman of
the world, and a good judge in every respect, siiys of her at a
later period, when she had passed with Cowper through many
Bad and trying years : *' She is very far from grave ; on the
/
m
iiil
30
AT HUNTINOOON THE DNWINS.
ooiitiaiy, alio is clicorful and miv «« I i , j ,
wowlswhiol, l.llf,„,„ i ,,""""■ •'" 'I... I..H.. puritonioal
I.. nat„:^:' :'l:': : ;';r;r :rr;"'; -^ - ^ "--
I-., not to l,„va be,.„ wi.oU^o L^ t .:,\ "V' '"'™
l.«i..«c,», lov,. „„„t|,„,, I „i|| J, , '" " . ' "■ ""■■ '"""""
tl.,>t.,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'"<nro, and,
those woi'ds,
My account
"it;)afing my
it L hiJu-Ml to
not wonder,
ii^'li I might
is not so by
'ts, slje does
puritanical
..ve a gi'eat
'lad she not,
i«fc say, too,
3h i)oets, as
s from time
1 that way."
lest respect
Bf his Lord
licence for
y the new
*vorId calls
them; and
ost all t!ie
ke part in
them, or to be accessories to this way of miir.lering our time,
and by so doing have acquired the ..am., of Metho.lists!
Having told you how we ilo not spend our time, I will next
8..y how we <lo. We breakfast commonly between eight and
nine ; till eleven, we read (,itlier the script.ire, or the sermons
of some faithful preacher of those holy ...ysteries ; at el.,ven
we attend divine service, which is perfo.ined here twice every
day, and from twelve to three we separate, and amuse ourselves
as we please. D.iring that interval, I either read in mv own
apartment, or walk or ride, or work in the garden. Wo seldom
sit an hour after dinner, but, if the weather pe.mits, adjo.irn
to the garden, where, with Mrs. Unwin a.id her son. l" have
generally tne pleasure of religious conversation till tea time.
If ic rains, or is too windy for walking, we eithf.- co.iverse
within doors or sing so.ne hymns of iVIartin's collection, a.id by
the help of Mrs. IJnwii.'s harpsichord, make up a tolerable
concert, in which our hearts I hope are the best perf..,„,ers.
After tea we sally forth to walk in good earnest. M.s. Unwin
isagoo.l walker, and we have geno.-ally travelled about four
mih^s before we see home again. When the days are sho.'t we
make this excursion in the former part of the day, between
church-tim.' and dinner. At night we read and converse as
before till supper, and commonly finish the evening eithe.- with
hymus or a sermon, and last of all the family are called to
prayers. I need not tell you that such a life as tliis is consistent
With the utmost cheernil.iess ; accordingly we are all happy
and dwell together in unity as brethren."
Mrs. Cowper, the wife of Major (now C!olonel) Cowper to
whom this was written, was herself strongly Evan<reliJal •
Cowper had, in fact, unfortunately for him. tu.ned from hi.'
other relations and friends to her on that account She
therefore, would have uo difficulty in thinking that such a life
was consistent with cheerfulness, but ordinary readers will ask
how It could faU to bring on another fit of hypochondria. The
i
\v
m
it
I i
32
AT lIUNTINaDON— Tin: UNWIN8.
ai..svv..r is ,„„l.ahly to he i'ounA in tl... lust wonlc of tl... j.MSSrt^e
Over-stmnuMl aiul ascetic piety fou,..! an .luti.lol.. in nfll-ction
a ho Unwu.s were Pnritans and onthn.iasts, but Ui..ir housel.oia
was a picture of domestic love.
With tho nan.o of Mrs. Cowper is connected an incident
wli.cli ocxmrrd at this tin.e, and which illustrates ihe propensity
to self inspection and self revelation which Cowper had in
connnon with Rousseau. Iluntin.i^.Jou, lilco other little towns,
was all eyes and gossiij; the n(,w comer was a mysterious
stranger who kept himself aloof from th,- general so.-iety, and
ho naturally becan.e the mark for a Utile stone tin owin.^
Young Unwin happening to l.e passing near -'the Park" ou
his way from Londo.i to Huntingdon, Cowper gnve him an
introduefon to its lady, in a letter to whotu he afterwar.ls
diselos,.d his secret motive. "My d.'ar Cousin,-You s.-nt mv
frien.l Unwin home to us charmed with vuur kind reception Jf
him, and with everything he saw at the Park. Shall I once
more giv(. you a peei) into my vile an<l deceitful h.'art? Wh.t
motive do you think lay at the bottom of mv conduct when I
desired him to call upon yon ? I did not suspect, at first that
pnde and vain-glory had any share in it; but qui,.klv alter I
had rec(.mmended the visit to him, I discovered, in that fruitlul
sml, the very root of the matter. You know I am a str.m.^er
here; all such are suspected characters, unless they brin- ih'ir
credentials with them. To this n>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<lucii,g him to one of my most splendid connexions'
that when he h..,.,is me r..l!od ' that fellow Cowper,' whidi has
happened heretofore, he may be able, upon unquestionable
rjfifi
COWPEB.
83
nf tlic pussage
(' in iifrcction.
Ii>'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<l ill his liands and I'eet the cruel scars,
With gentle force soliciting the darts.
He drew them forth and healed and bade me live.
Cowper thought for a moment of taking orders, but his dread
of appearing in public conspired with the good sense which lay
beneath his excessive sensibility to put a veto on the desi<rn.
He, however, exerciseil the zeal of a neophyte in ))roselytism
to a greater extent than his own judgment and good luste
approved when his enthusiasm had calmed down
3
m
f
I \
I
|!'<
i
II
• I i i
r
i M
''>
>>>■■
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<l, and he afterwards managed to t^ach
himself Latin by means of a Horace and a Latin lible aided
by some slight vestiges of the education which he had receive.l
at a gramnuir school. His conversion was brought about bv
the continued influences of Thomas a Kempis, of a verv
narrow escape, after tenible sufferings, from shipwreck, of the
impression nuule by the sights of the mighty deep on a soul
winch in Its weather-beaten casing, had retained its native
sens.bdity, and, we n,ay safely add, of the disregarded but not
orgotteu teachings of his pious mother. Providence was now
kmd to him; he became captain of a slave-ship, and made
several voyages (,n the business of the trade. That it was a
wicked trade he .seems to have had no idea : he savs he never (
knew sweeter or more frequent hours of divine 'communion i
than on his two last voyages to Guinea. Afterwards it -^
occurred to him that though his employment was genteel and |
profuabh, uiuade lam a sort of gaoler, unpleasantly conversant ^
witli botii ( ... -
^
to fix him in a more hu
ns and shackles; and he besought ProWd^n
ice
mane calluii'.
COVVPRR.
37
^
tripliiig he fell
frcctioii for lier
lii.s WiUKleriiigH
liei-, and after
Vowned on the
)iue. He was
ted, and was •
11 the navy, he -^
1 the coast of ^
egro mistress, J*
lU'ly, being so'V
roots to stay
iion to cany
neantime his
il-culture; he
, drawing his
ged to teach
I ible, aided
liad leceived
;Iit about by
1 of a \eiy
n'eck, of the
1> 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
<f!
In answer to his prayer came a fit of apoplexy, which made
it (luigerods for him to go to sea iigain. He obtained an oflice
in tlie po) t of Liverpool, but nmrn he set his heart on becoming a
minister of the Ciiurch of England. He applied for ordination
to the Arclibisliop of York, but not having the degree rocpiired
by the rules of the Estal)lishuH'nt, he received through his
Gi'ace's secretary " the softest rehisul ima,<:in,iblc." The Arch-
bishop had not had the advantagt; of perusing Lord Macaulay's
remarks on the differ(!nce between the policy of the Church of
Englan.l and that of the Church of Rome, with regard to the
utilization of religious enthusiasts. In tlie end Newton was
ordained by the Bishop of Lincoln, and threw liims< If with the
energy of a new-born apostle upon the irreligion and brutality
of Olney. No Carthusian's breast could glow more intensely
with the zeal which is the ofl'spritig of remorse. Newton was
a Calvinist of course, though it seems not an extreme one
otherwise he wou]<l pn.])ably have confirmed Cowper in the
darkest of hallucinations. His religion was one of mystery
and miracle, full of sudden conversions, special providences
and .Satanic visitations. He hims(;lf says that "his name was
up atiout the country for preaching peoph; mad:" it is true that
in the eyes of thej)rofane Methodism itself was madness; but
he goes on to say "whether it is owing to the sedentary lifo the
women live here, poring over their (lace) pillows ihv ten or
tw.dve hours every day, and breatliing contined air in their
crowded little rooms, or whatever may be the iuunediate cause,
I suppose we have near a dozen in tlilFerent dc^grees disordered
in their heads, and most of them I believe truly gracious ])eople."
He surmi-ses that "these things are permitted in judgment
that they who seek occasion for cavilling and stumbling may
have what they want." Nevertheless there were in him not
only force, courage, burning zeal for doin-r w.nd. but tn-o-at
kindness, and even tenderness of heart. " I se(! in tliis woTld,"
.1, '• two heaj)s of human happiness and misery; now if I
he
i
38
AT OLNEY— MR. NEWTON.
ii
f/(
W'
I f-I I Lve done' «:,; r-'Ur '^''' ''""'.''' ''''-'
-^in, i. not of hun.„, of a S.v^n JI, ^^ij^ ^r
"Kl expressed itself in many pithv savings "T. '
ccme down f.om }.eaven to execu e . 7lT° *"" '"^'^^^
was appointed to conduct an erp. C andT'.r"'' '"' ^"^
street in it, thev would fernr , "*^"' *° '^^^1' '^
bein,a..oven;i rb::':?/"? ''''' eventuality L
best in the pan" h '' < M, ^ «';«-«J^aner, he should be the
is by establshinl truth One""' ""''"' ''' '^'^^^'"»^ '^--^
noJif lean ,^::z ^::zrr:^:^v^''''--^
That his Calvinism was not very da;k o' iS '''''''''•"
be shown from his repeating with Ito^e sT"" T"" *'
the old women of Ohev when Z 1 ^'"^ ""^ °°" «^
^ioctrine of predestina7on-:i,rT h^ t'' '^"^^ °^ *'^^
point ; for if God had not ehostn' i CLTLT' .''''
sure he would have seen nothing, i. i ! ™' ^ ^™
wards." That he hull , " "^^ '*^"'"" "^^ ^''^ ^ft«'-
xij.iu lie nau too much spn«o fY^ +„i
for religion appears frou> 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
<Au\ at whose
ve which he
happiness of
'ypochondria
Newton Was
-'hich ill this
He Mgaiu
of heaven,
1 attemj)ted
the disease
COWPKB.
41
of Cowper's desperate abstinence from prayer, abstained from
^ culling in a physician. Of this again their religion must bear
the reproach. In other respects they behaved admirably.
Mrs. Unwin, shut up for sixteen months with her unhapi)y
partner, tended him with unfailing love; alone she did it, for
he could bear no one else abont him ; though to make her part
more trying he had conceived the insane idea that she hated
him, Seldom has a stronger proof l)een given of the sustaining
power of atlcction. Ass\!rc;dly of whatcxer Cowpcr may have
afterwards done for his kind, a great part must be set down to
the ciedit of Mrs. Unwin.
Mary ! J want a lyre witli other .strings,
Such aid from lieivun as soiao bavo feiyned they drew,
Au elo(|ueuL'e scaico givtu to UKntals, new
And xmdtbasod l)y prais ot meaner things,
That, era througli age or woe I t^lnd my wings,
I may record tliy wortli with h^.nour due,
In verse as nuisicil as tliou art trno,
And that ininiortalizes whom it .siii"s.
But thou liast litUe need. Tiiere i.s a hook
By seraphs writ with beams of heavenly light,
On which the eye.s of Gjd not rarely look,
A ehroaiele of actions just and hriglit ;
Th(rc all thy (h els, my faitliful Mary shine,
And, since thou own'st that prai.-^e, I spare thee mine.
Newton's fri.'inislii|. too was sorely tried. In the midst of
th(! malady the luoijic took it into his head t(; transfer himself
from his own house; to the Vicarage, which he obstinately
refused to leave; and Newtnn Ijore this intliotion for several
months without repining, though he might well pray earnestly
for his friend's deliveiauce. '-The Lord has numbered the
days in which I am aj .pointed to wait on him in this dark
valley, and he has ■-iven us such a love
hi
believei
deliverance would
m, both as a
ill
nd a friend, that I am not weary ; but to be sure his
be to me one of the greatest blessings my
42
AT OLNEY-MR. nkvvton.
thoughts can conceive." Or CnH
"-le,. ,„-3 t..ea,.nent, evident,,^ :^^^^^^ !^^ '-' -"-» -, an.,
■L^f wtoii once coniDiirfif? >,;=
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<l to
«"■! to bonfires ,,„d illuminations „nTTH I """'"' «»
Threatened With the ,0. of their o:;rr: tie t;Ct:
n-
'^
COWPKK.
43
<fc -ailed in, and
t bodily disease,
- world to that
WHS not skilful
O'iglit to caXole
lis attention to
iliiit of Simon
ea that; bein''
iiely deprived
nimal iiatuie,
»loyed himself
oing nothin-
bavo thought
proceeded tof>
;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., <rardenin.r Of , , drawing,
fond- «r.l . "'*'''""'»• O* gardening he had always been
tond, and he understood it as shown by the lovin/tholT
^-h^ ;-^..eorae^.s" minuteness of L. ,Z^, ^^
an^on. the eanoni.ed petsof iiten.n' 'a!!"!:^
ijciinis what " Sa;i„r" VV..O + *i ■ "'"-.y wne to lug
rr ^^'is t« the genuis of Byron Rnf M,.=
TIRES.
le heart that enjoys
' Ocean — the Evan-
was not altogellicr
i-ujance of practical
irk fancy of Repio-
yon, h(ir translator
3f the sjime school,
h has lurked in the
omas 4 Kempia
COWPEB.
46
RES.
i»g out for wJiat
e tried drawin''
had always been
le loving thou^li
i passages in The
n suuinier, where
^ iind lulled by
ime pursuit, and
He also found
cied that he had
3 tame hares are
hey were to his
ion. But Mrs.
s case, saw that
nt for the mind,
a a larger scale.
Jarly fifty yea«
of ago })ecanie a poet. He had acquired the facuUy of ver.se-
v/iitiug, as we have seen; he had even to some extent formed
his manner when he was young Age must by this time have
quenched his fire, and tamed his imagination, so that the
didactic style wtmld suit him best. In the length of the
interval between his early poems and his great work Im
resembles Milton ; but widely diflieient in the two cases had
been the current of the intervening years.
Poetry written late in life is of cour.se free from youthful
crudity and extravagance. Tt also escapes the youthful tendency
to imitation. Cowp^'r's auth(jrship is ushered in by .Southey
with a history of Engi.sh poetry; but this is hardly in place;
Covvper had little connexion with anything Ijefbre him. Even
his knowledge of poetry was not great. In his youtli he had
read the great poets, and had stuilied Milton especially with
the ardour of intense admiration. Nutliing ever made him so
angiy as Johnson's Life of Milton. "Oh!" he cries, "I could
tlua.sh his old jacket till I made his pension jingle in liis
pocket." Churchill had made a great— far too great an
impression on him, when he was a Templar. Of Churchill, if
of anybody, he must be legarded as a follower, though only
in his earlier and less successful poems. In expression he
always regarded as a model the neat and gay simplicity of
Piior. r,ut .so little hivl he kept up his reatiing of anything
but .sermons and hymns, that he learned for the first time fiom
Johnson's lives the existence of Collins. He is the offsprin"
of the Eeligious Revival rather than oi any school of ai-t. His
most important relation to any of his predecessor's is, in fact,
one of antagonism to the hard glitter of Pu()e.
In ui-ging her companion to write poetry, Mrs. TJnwin was
on the right path; her puritanism led her astray in the choice
of a theme, She suggested 7'hp. Prngress of Error as a subject
for a " Moral Satire." It was unhappily a.lopt.'d, and The
Froyess of Error was followed by Truth, Table Talk, Ex-
I! Ill
46
AUTIIOKSIIIP. TUB MORAL SATIRES.
postulntlon, Hope, Charitu, Convermtion, and Retiremmt.
When tlie scries was puliHsho,), Table Talk was put drat, hcin.'
supposed to be the li-htest an.l the moat attractive to an
unregenemte woil.l. The ju(]guie..t pas.iid i.p..n this set of
poems at the tinu^ by the Critiml Review seems blasphemous to
th(, foud bio-raphor, and is so devoi,| of modern smartness as
to be almost interesting as a literary fossil. But it must l)e
deemed es-sentially just, thougli the reviewer errs, as many
reviewers have erred, in measuring the writer's capacity by the
standard of his first performance. -'These poems, .said the
Critical Review, "are written, as we leain from the title-page
by Mr. Cowper of the Inner Temple, who seems to he a man'
of a sober and religious turn of mind, with a benevolent heart,
and a serions wish to inculcate the prece^its of morality; he is ''
not, however, possessed of any superior abilities or the power of
genius requisite for so arduous an undertaking fj^
says what is inco.itrovertible and what has Ikh-u said over and
over again with much gravity, but says nothing new, spri-ditly
or entertaining; ti-avelling on a plain level flat road, with -reat
composure almost through the whole long and te iious volume
which is little better than a dnl, sermon in very indifferent!
verse on Truth, the Progress of Error, Charity, an<l some other
grave subjects. If this author had f.^llowed he a.lvice given by
Caraccioli, and which h« l)as chosen for one of the mottoes p.e-
fixed to these poems, he would have clothed his indisputable
truths in some more becoming disguise, and rendered his work
much more agreeable. In its present shape we cannot comi.li-
ment him on its beauty; for as this bard himself sweetly sings:— a
The clear hajangue, and cold as it is clear . *:Jb\''^'^^^^''^
Falls soporitic on the listless ear." ,^5.iJ5^-''o
In justice to the bard it ought to be said that he wrote under
the rye of the Kev. John Newton, to whom the desim had
been duly submitted, and who had given bis imprimatur iix the
^-^,
I
U.
■1jW-U<.^
\
RES.
and Rntirem'"nt.
la put first, Ix-imr
attractive to an
upon this Hf(t of
IS bliispheinoiiH to
lorn sinartness as
lint it must he
r frrs, as inaMV
8 capacity by tlie
poems, said the
)m the title-patre,
^uis to he a man
jencvolciit hfart,
morality; he is '
i or tiio power of
• • . . ffe
en said over and
^ now, spriirJitly
roail, witii great
tedious volume,
very indifferent
. and some other
I advice given hy
the mottoes pre-
his indisputable
iidered his work
3 cannot comjili-
sweetly sings : — a
. he wrote under
the design had
orimatur in the
COWPER. 47
shape of a preface wliich took Johnson the publisher aback by
its gravity. Nctwton would not have sanrtioncd any po(^try
which Iia<l not a distinctly religious object, and he rcaaved an
: assurance from the poet that the lively passages were intro luced
I only as honey on the rim of the medicinal cup, to commend its
I healing contents to the lips of a giddy world. The Rev. John
■ Newton must have been exceedingly austere if he thought that
the quantity of honay n.sed was excessive.
A genuine desiie to make society better is always present in
hese-' poems, and its presence lends them the only int.^est which
they possess except as historical monumen;s of a religious
movement. Of .satir-'cal vigour they have scarcely a semblance.
There aie three kinds of satire, corresponding to as many
different views of humanity and life; the Stoical, the Cynical,
and the Epicurean. Of Stoical satire, with its strenuous hatred
of vice and wrong, the typr is Juvenal, Of Cyiucal satire,
springing from bitter contempt of . uanity, the type is Swift's
Gulliver, while its quintessenc is embodied in his lines on the
Day of Judgment. Of Epicurean aitire, flowing from a con-
tempt of humanity wliich i.s not bitter, and lightly playing
with the weakness and vanities of mankind, Horace is the
classical example. To the lirst two kinds, Cowper's nature was
totally alien, and w1 attempts anything in, eitjher of those
lines, the only result is a qiierulous and cen^.p,uuus acerbity, in
which his real feelings luuP no part, and which on mature
reflection offended his own better taste. In the Horatian kind
he might have excelled, as the episode of the /Retired Stat .man
in one of those poems shows. He might have excelled, that
is, if like Horace he had known the world. But he did not
know the world. He saw the "great Babel" only "through
the loopholes of retreat," and in the columns of 'his weekly
newspaper. Even duiing the yeai-s, long past, which he .-.pent
in the world, his experience had been confined to a small
liteiary circle. Society was to him an abstraction on which he
J
S/v.
'^%Y^^^\.
■ II J III!
48
AUTHORSHIP. THE MORAL SATFRES.
:!"S! '
! i 'II
discouised like a pulpiteer. His satiric whip not only has no
lash, it is blandished in the air.
No man was ever less qualified for the oliice of a censor; his
judgment is at once disarmed, and a breach in his iirinciples is
at once made by the sh'ghtest personal influence-. Bishops are
bad ; they are like the Cretans, evil beasts and slow l)elliv.'S :
but the liishop whoso brother Cowpor knows is a blessing to
the Clinrch. Deans and Canons are lazy sinecurih^ts, but there
is a bright exception in the case of the Cowper who held a
golden stall at Dnrham. -Grindiifg India is a criminal, but
Warren Hastings is acquitted, lu'cause he was with Cowper at
Westminster. Discipline was deplorably relaxed in all colleges
except that of which Cowper's brot iirj' was a fellow. PInialitics
and resignation bonds, the grossest abiis(;s of the Cliuivh, were
perfectly defensible in the case of any friend or acqnainiance of
this Chui-ch Reformer. Bitter lines against Popery inserted in
2'he Task were struck out, because the writer had made the
acquaintance of Mr. and Mrs. Thro, kmorton, who were Itoman
Catholics. Smoking was detestal)le, except when practised l)y
dear Mr. Bull. Even gambling, the blackest sin of fashionable
society, is not to prevent Fox, the great Whig, fi'om being a
ruler in Israel. Besides, in all his social judgments, Cowper is
at a wrong 2)oint of view. He is always deluded by the idol
of his cave. He wiites perpetually on the twofold assumption
that a life of retirement is more favourable to virtue than a
life of action, and that " God ma le tlu; country, while man
made the towji." Both parts of the assumption are untrue.
A lite of action is more favourable to virtue, as a rule, than a
liie of retirement, and the development of humanity is hi-dier
and richer, as a rule, in the town than in the country. If
Cowper's retirement was virtuous, it was so becau.se he was
actively employed in the exerci.se of his highest lacnlties : had
he been a mere idiei', secluded from his kind, las retirement
would not have been virtuous at all. His flight from the
RES.
1 not only has no
COWPKB.
49
curists, but there
vvper who held a
s a criminal, but
s witli C'o\vj)er at
ced in all collews
low. Pluralities
the Church, were
r acquaintance of
opory inserted in
n- had made the
vho were Ixonian
'hen practised by
in of fashionable
ig, fi'om l»einy a
luents, Cowper is
uded by the idol
ofold assumption
to virtue than a
utry, while man
tion are untrue,
as a rule, tlian a
inanity is hiyhor
le country. If
because he was
it fa-nilties : hail
. liis retirement
fliq!)t from the
world was rendered necessary by his malady, and resjjectable
by his literary work; but it was a ilii^dit and not a victory.
His misconception was fostered and partly produced by a
religion which was essentially ascetic, and which, while it gave
birth to chaiacters of the highest and mo:t energetic benelicence,
represented salvation too little as the re .rd of effort, too much
as the reward of passive belief and of spiritual emotion.
The most readable of the Moial Satires is Relirement, in
which the writer is on his own ground expressing his genuine
feelings, and which is, in fact, a foretaste of The Task. Ex-
postulation, a warning to England from the example of the
Jews, is the best constructed : the rest are totally wanting' in
unity, and even in connexion. In all there are flashes of
lUess.
epigrammatic sinartne
How shall I speak tlice, or tliy power address,
Thou God of our idolatry, the press ?
By thee, religion, liberty, and hivvs
Exert their iufluence, and advance their cause ;
By thee, worse plagues than I'haraoh's laud l)efi;l,
Diffused, make earth the vestibule of hell :
Thou fountaiu, at which drink the good and wise,
Thou ever-bubbling spring of endless hes,
Like Eden's dread probationary tree, /Xijt nrWv'-jO^'
Knowledge of good aud evil is from thee.
h-u '.^^^
Occasionally there are passages of higher merit. The ei)isode
of statesmen in Retiremmi has been already mentioned. The
lines on the two disciples going to Emmaus in C onvermtio a,
though little more than a parajihrase of the Gospel narrative^
convey pleasantly the Evangelical idea of the Di\ine Friend.'
Cowper says in one of his letters that he had been intimate
with a man of fine taste who had confessed to iiim that though
he couh
could never
affected bjf it, and feeling thti if the
not Bubsoribu to th.; truth of Ohristi;
nity it.self, he
read this passag(i of St. Luke without l)ein" de(
■ply
5-'i I
m
stamp of divinity was
60
AUTHOKSHIP. THK MORAL SATlEES.
: .
1 i
i '
S 1/
impressed upon anything in tlie Scriptures, it was upon that
passage.
It happen'd on a solemn eventide,
Soon after He that was our surety died,
Two bosoin friends, each pensively inclined,
The scene of all those sorrow^ loft behind,
Sought their own village, busied as thoy went
In musings worthy of the great event :
They spake of him they loved, of him whose life,
Thougli blameless, had iucurr'd jJerpetual strife,
Whose deeds had left, in spite of hostile arts,
A deep memorial graven on their hearts.
The recollection, like a vein of ore.
The farther traced enrich'd them still the more ;
They thouglifc him, and they justly thought him' one
Sent to Jo more than he appear'd to have done,
To exalt a people, and to place them high
Above all else, and wonder'd he should die.
Ere yet they brought tneir journey to an ; nd,
A stranger join'd them, courteous as a friend,
And ask'd them with a kind engaging air
Wiiat their afHiction was, and begg'd a share,
Inform'd, he gather'd up the brok. n thread.
And truth and wisdom gracing all he said,
Explain'd, illustrated, and search'd so well
The tender theme on which they chose to dwell.
That reaching home, the night, they said is near,
We must not now be parted, sojourn here.—
The new acquaintance soon became a guest.
And made so welcome at their simple feast.
He bless'd the bread, but vanish'd at the word.
And left them both exclaiming, 'Twas the Lord !
Did not our hearts feel all he deign'd to say,
Did they not burn within ua by the way ?
The prude goii.g to morning church in Truth is a good
rendering of Hogartli's picture : —
Yon ancient prude, whose wither'd features show
She might be young some forty years ago,
IRES.
, it wag upon that
ent
se life,
strife,
•ta,
nore ;
t him, one
lone,
id,
id.
well,
near,
»rd,
ord I
Truth is a good
show
COWPER, fs^
Her elbows pinion'd close upon her hips,
Her head erect, her fan upon hor lips,
Her eyebrows arch'd, lier eyes both gone astray
To watch yon amorous couple in their play,
With bony and unkerchief 'd neck defies
The rude inclemency of wintry skies,
And sails with lapppt-head and mincing airs
Daily at clink of bell, to morning prayers. - L-^
To thrift and p arsim ony much inclined,:,*/. ..w-^W-''^^'''^
She yet allows herself that boy behind ;
The shivering urchin, bending as he goes,
With slipshod heels, and dew-drop at his nose,
His predecessor's "oat idvanced to wear,
Which future ire yet doom'd to share ;
Carries her I . k'd beneath his arm.
And hides his hands to keep his lingers warm.
Of personal allusions there are a few; if the satirist liud not
been prevented from iiuliilging in them hy his taste, he woulii
have been debarred by his ignorance. Lord Chesterfield, as
the incarnation of the world and the most brilliant servant
of the arch-enemy, conies in for a lashing under the name of
Petronius.
Petronius I all the muses weep for thee,
But every tear shall scald thy memory.
The graces too, while virtue at their shrine
Lay bleeding under that soft hand of thine,
J'elt each a mortal stab in her own breast,
AbhorrVi the sacrifice, and cuised the priest.
Thou polish'd and high-finish'd foe to truth.
Gray-beard corru[iter of our listening youth,
To purge and skim away the filth of vice,
That so refined it might the more entice.
Then pour it on the moral of thy r -^n
To taint hi^ heart, was worthy of thine own.
This is about th.e neavp.st Jij.proacli to Juvenal that the
Evangelical satirist ever makes. In Hope there is a vehement
vindication of the memory of Whiteaeld. It is rather remaik-
■.dJj^J^'^-^
i-
52
AUTHORSHIP. THE MORAL SATIRES.
al>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<l with a handsome card
such an one as you will know how to fabricate, and such as
may pr^lispose him to a favourable perusal of the book bv
coaxing h,m into a good temper; for he is a great bear, witL
all Ins learn.ng and penetration." Fear prevailed ; but it seems
that the book found its way into the dictator's hands, that his
judgment on it was kind, and that he even did son.etl.in. to
temper the wind of adverse criticism to the shorn lamb Yet
parts of It were likely to incur his displeasure as a Tory as .
Churchman, and as one who greatly preferred Fleet Street to
the beauties of nature; while with the sentimental miserv of
the writer, he could have had no syn.pathy whatever Of the
nicompleteness of Johnson's view of character there could be
no better instance than the charming weakness of Cowper
Ihurlow and Colman did not even acknowledge their copies'
and were lashed for their breach of friendship with rather more
vigour than the Moral Satires di.splay, in 77. JW,,,,,;
winch unluckdy survived for p,u^uno_us publication when ti;^
culpritj ha.i made their peace, ^^^'f)
■ ' < ' , A
SATIRES.
ngs Antl-Thehjpthora,
iay was not imblislicd-
le on an ulisuid book-
, by the Rev. Mai tin
<ellor. Alone anion"
;s.
o whom their social
7 in common with all
o no doul)t siiecially
ng the iihihinthropic
embling consultation
me imder the notice
:'asm,s, if he should
d its way into all
it woukl be well to
l» a handsome card,
bi'icate, and such as
5al of the book, by
is a great bear, with
mailed; but it seems
toi's liaiid.s, that his
(n did soniutlii)i(/ to
3 shorn lamb. Yet
sure as a Tory, as a
led Fleet Street to
itimental misery of
whatever. Of the
ter there coidd be
ikness of Oowper.
'ledije their copies,
) vvith rather more
Thn Valedictory,
blication when the
COWPER.
55
\CSl
Cowper certainly misread himself if he believed that ambition,
even literary ambition, was a large element in his cliaracter.
But having published, he felt a keen interest in tlie success of
his publication. Yet he took its failure and the adverse criticism
very calmly. With all his sensitiveness, fi'oiii irritaljle and
suspicious egotism, such as is the most connnou cause of moral
madness, he was singularly free. In this )t spect his philosophy
served him well.
It may safely be said that the Moral Satires would have sunk
into oblivion if they had not been 'ouoyed up by The. Task.
CHAPTER V.
THi; TASK.
^ /«><-'
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<l towards the end forget his sorrows a]ide
mto commonj.lace topics, and write about them ir. the ordinarv
cow PER.
B7
strain. LaHy Aiiston iiispired John Gilpin. She inspiroti, it
seems, the lines on the loss of th« Royal Geor';e. She did
more : she invited Cowper to try liis hand at something
cunsidei-able in blank verse. When he asked her for a subject,
she was happier in her choice than the lady who had suggested
the Progress of Error. She bade hira take the sofa on which
she was reclining, and whicli, softis Ijeing then uncommon, was
a more striking and suirgesti ve object than it wouM be now. The
ri<,'ht chord was struck ; the subject was aocej)ted ; and TJie
.S'q/*a grew into The Task; the title of the song reminding us
that it was "commanded by the fair." jT As Paradise Lost is to
injiitant Puritanism, so is The Task to the religious movement
of its authoi-'s time.'V To its character as the poem of a sect it
no doubt owed and still owes much of itb popularity. Not
only did it give beautiful and effective expression to the
sentiments of a large religious party, but it was aV)out the only
poetry that a strict Methodist or Evangelical could i-ead; while
to those whose worship was unritualistic and who were debarred
by their principles from the theatre and the concert, iinytliing
in the way of art t'iat was not illicit must have been emiuentlyN
welcome. But The Task has merits of a moie universal and
enduring kind. Its author himself says of it : — " If the work
cannot boast a regular plan (in which n^spect, however, I do
not think it altogether indefensible), it may yet boast, that the
reflections are naturally suggested always by the preceding
passage, and that, except the tifth book, which is rather of a
political aspect, the whole has one tendency, to discountenance
the modern enthusiasm after a London life, and to recommend
rural ease and leisure as friendly to the cause of piety ami
virtue." A regular plan, assuredly. The Tusk has not. It
rambles through a vast variety of subjects, religious, |)olitical,
social, philosophical, and horticultural, with as little of method
as its i.uthor used in taking his morning walks. Nor as
Mr. Benham has shown, are the reflections, as a rule, naturally
f^"
r
\i^
I :ii
THE TASK.
From thL iZ f "■ '"• 'f ■"" "» ''»«"ite 'heme.
lliose wI,iol, have fZ„T 7 " '""'I' "'• P""™ »Hve;
and in,e,„i « "f 1' ; "7,""V'r '"""' °' "'" '""»"
which t„e, ,„o»t »:::„:; : ,""'i„'°r%"»'"-''-. '»
out his inmost feHi wi, ,■ ,■ '""■ P"""
■ enhanced bvcoMtJ:;, l'™h"e« of exl,ila,„,io„,
the country an 'fo,,'''^''°,r """"■'■ '^'"' l>>'^"'<^ 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<m,«.,,oIicy of all
feiifter Jus woes and .sliaro in i •
While faacv hkJ ) 7 "' "'"'"?'"'•
Kims thT7' ' ^"^'^'' «^' " «l"^k.
' Fringe,, ..th a CdS f- '"^'.^^ ''■'"■^'^^
Than those .,f a^e • tl ' f T " '"'^ "'^«'- «"ow.
A leafless lL^:;^l^':^ ^u'' l" '''''''^'
; A sliding ear indebted ;:t; 1"^^*^'-^
And dreaded as thou aft rr T";"*'
' A prisoner in the Z I , " ''"''"''** "'« ««">
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,
l<A.nd only there, please highly for their sake.
Aft'ectioii such a.-; the last linos (liHi)lay for tlio inliarinonioua
as well as the harmonious, for the uncomely as well as the
comely parts of natui'e has been made familiar by Wordsworth,
but it was new in the time of (.'ow))er. Let us compare a
landscape painted by Pope in his Wiuds(n- forest, with the lines
just quoted, and we shall see the difference between the art of
Cowper, and that of the Aiigustan age(\ ^^r^v,' Vk'y» -^Uv^jA.v
Here waving groves a checkered ticeno d)S[)lay,
And part admit and part exclude the day.
As some coy nymph her lover's warm address
Not quite indulges, nor can quite repress.
There interspersed in lawns and opening glades
The trees arise that share each other's shades ;
Here in full liglit the russet plains exteiid,
There wrapt in cloiuls, the bluish hills ascend.
E'en the wild heath displays her purple dyes
And midst the desert fruitful fields arise,
That crowned with tufted trees and springing corn,
Like verdant isles the sable waste adorn.
The low Berkshire hills wrapt in clouds on a sunny day ; a
i*-^'^
m
it'
?iii
K
64
THE TASK,
sable desert in the neighbourhood of Windsor ; fruitful fiohls
arising in it, and crowned with tufted trees and springing corn
—evidently Pope saw all this, not on an eminence, in tin;
ruffling wind, but in his study with his back to the window,
and the Georgics or a translation of them before him.
Here again is a little picture of rural life from the Winter
Morning Walk.
The cattle mourn in corners, where the fence
Screens them, ami seem half-petrified to sleep
In unrecunihent sculne.-is. There they wait
Their wonted fodder ; not like hungering man,
Fretful if unsupplied ; but silent, meek.
And patient of the slow-paced swain's delay.
He from the stack carves out the. accustomed load.
Deep-plitihjln'j, and ayain deep-i>lun<jin<j oft,
His broad keen knife into the solid mass :
Smooth as a wall the upright remnant stands,
With such nndf'viating and even force
He severs it awaij : no needless care,
Lest storms should overset the leaning pile
Deciduous, or its own unbalanced weight.
Forth goes the woodman, leaving unconcern'd
The cheerful haunts of man ; to wield the axe
And diive the wedge in yonder forest drear,
From moru to eve, his solitary task.
Shaggy, and lean, and shrewd, with pointed ears
And tail cropp'd short, half lurcher and half cur.
His doir attends him. Close behind his heel
Now omps he slow ; and now, with many a frisk
Wide-scampering, snatches up the drifted snow
With ivory teeth, or ploughs it with his snout : • ^
Then shakes his powiler'd coat, and barks for jo^'
Heedless of all his pranks, the sturdy ghurl T^^
Moves right toward the mark : nor stojis for aught
But now and then with pressure of his thumb
To adjuist the fragrant charge r>f 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<l this lim; Cowper does not go, and had no idea of
5
'rii
mi
m
if.i
■* 1
66
THE TASK.
Ganisbor ,ugh, as the great d.scHnV '''''*'"' ^"""terpart of
[- might ]..ve been a ^nc'e e^a ' n "'" "' ''^''^ '-'^'-^^P- ;
h^ -ind that .^, in.:;r r:::; :;:'"'^'^ ' '- '-^ ^--<^
-h.ch to hin, was little n.o.e ul^ ?'"' '^'^""^ ^ ^«'-'<J
"moreover, aiul discoloured by his e '" '''^'''''■^°*'«"' distorted
"> 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<rres^ nf ..«., i .•
opmions evidently increased l" ' ' revoliUionarv
«ti...w„i«,.„;he^„dT::.:ir^'::;^''-»^,
"es- »ve bnaJl piesentJ',.
-0.
COWPER.
69
r and dear
^y-'lty to a
one time
eorge III.
State and
alutioiiarv
' of u. ^ ,y
entl> ,,-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
«,<i„ed to rt„,, A....o.s„.;::3 1 ':r,f • r'"-^ --
l.ke the swell of „„ o,™„ but lil„ rt ! '" ' """ ^'^ "»'
n. Tas, ,oa.e Co^e,-' f .I't He T 1 " 'r"^'""--
8«ty rea.lers at lb,. [J„,,„e alone T], '■ "«" he IwU
Mid friends i„ ],;,„ „,, j ', ""'■»' "1 his relationa
-hi„g .,.. „,a.,v yea,; ;,2 ,^!*;' "",7, *« '>«<' 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'<y manifest their whole life through
:%
'or ever in the
i.y The Needless
compositions,
laving written
'se little pieces
1 were never
ing the simple
'owper was in
past suffering
cidents of his
>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„„ ,■; ■
<ies,«.,.at„I,v ,.„„e„.e.l. Ho„„r ,„'!"•'" ' »• J'et still.,,'
-'i.s..l!ed. HU ,..I,lrev^i-*; '™ ";''"'' ■°"" -"--e- !» ^
Prge„t.,bie. VVI,at dvili.«| "If' »"f '-'leA'.^ec,,,,.,,,, „„. ■
aufflciently to revel, o,- «.,„„ ^i* , ';p^,^iJt; '™'™.i„„
e»mage, ,n l,Meo„s w,„„„|., ,,,., ' \ "'" Sl'.wfrdBt.iii, of
"■e .butCe-v of .„,.;;",, '':;'; »' f' -'.-al g,.to. i„ .■
P;r'"-eftl.e.l,a„„,lesa,.,U , "': °" '""' "' 'ho.* •
of ba,.barism seem as deli- It ,, „;' r''l""'"'"l"'&'i.AJo,„. ..-
»nd ,l,e vi„t„„e ! Po,.t,.y ^J^ '^ ' » ■'";'='«» of tl,„ 1,,,,,,,^
taking „p the i,le.„ of t e ,n ■ 'f '' """ ''"""y ""'y bv
t-siator, „i,ioi, , ver, ,h1, ' :;;: , r t""' r' ^'^'^
"'■■g"ial ai-e M,„rated by a ^„If , '"•".■"lato,. and th«
*l.en the gulf i, ,,,.3, ^y/"^ J' "'""Sl.t ,u,d f,.e,i„^, J
-tinng fo,. ,t i„ the ij^ ^] ■;■'"-'*■ The,, i.
Even in p,.„,e ^ find ,,e,&cf°™ , " '"°~" "•"■«'«'«..
of the H„„e,.io „oen,» n.ay"., ^j "■;'';";""; »'"«elogi=al date
date „,„y ,, ,„,,„„ „^ /J' pj. .'■"'' '""' I'Vebelogioai
episo,,e of Tl.e,.si.,. sho.s ,0 the f^, ""■^' ''°'""«. - 'be
fet collision ,viU, .,.;»„„,,! *."''.?' ''"■'■■--•v ,.d to i,«
•slikcd tho tosk,
''«• The Slave
loi-rois diincing
an artist fiom
vas exhausted,
L^?y a spring
\'ial object or
,'o on wiiting
ced with the
' an evil star,
into verse is ;
"g. yet stiJl ;
"ction. His
'''? _never be ^
H"aljy un- .'
^ 'Wibariaii
ty~fl6tiiils of
^' g'lsto, in ■
" i" those ■
triioJUtUoiir '^
th(! harvest
f^'y only by
»'' of the
01" and the
eling:, and
'J'iiere is
an.sJution.
»e of the
?"ca] (Jate
'^'oIoi,acaI
.i^» as tttn
nd to its
with the
COWPER.
83
feelings of a bard who sang in aristocratic halls. Psycholocncally
they belong to the tin).e when in ideas and language, the°moral
was just disengaging itself from the physical. In the wail ot
Andromache for instance, adinon epos, which Pope improves
uito "sadly dear," and Cowper, with better ta.ste at all events
renders "precious," is really semi-physical, and scarcely capable
of exact translation. It belongs to an unreprodueible past, like
the herce joy which, in the same wail, bursts from the savage
won.an in the midst of her desolation at the thon-ht of the
numbers whom her husband's hands had slain. Cowper had
studied the Homeric poems thoroughly in his youth ; he knew
them so well that he was able to translate them, not very
mcorreetly with only the help of a Clavis; he understood their
peculiar qualities as well as it was possible for a reader without
the historic sense to do; he had compared Pope's translation
carefully with the original, aud had decisively noted tho defeots
which mak(> 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<ldressecl. while others- cont. „ r ' '" ^^'''^'^ "'«y were
I '■m«l,(„t„. Grace of ,■„,,„ ,' " '"»""'■•"" tlmt he did „„. v
«i'"p'" »olf-ievel„li„„ i, , ' ''"'"^='»''featOI„ev H 7 ^:
and commonplace.
1 shared witli I
^••iiy, ivhosG y I
'■'ii-y men, or ^^
''6 English T^
Grray and
Those of
»»versatioM,
y. Peifeotly
They are
3' Hnd the
that they
1 there are
*'bly have
^^'«y were
h no one
Some, we
It before;
'••ee from ;
ts, which
' did not
s Was 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<l very civilly foi- the multitude of his friend's
strictures ; and his frnnid has promised to contino himself in
future to a comparison of me with the original, so that, T doubt
not, we shall jog ou merrily together. And now, ray dear, let
me tell you once more, that your kindness in promising us a
visit has charnu'd us both. I shall see you again. I shall hear
your voice. We shall lake walks together. I will show you
my pros[.;'ets, the hovel, the alcove, tho Ouse and its banks,
everything that I have de.scribed. I anticii)ate the pleasure of
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88
THE LETTKR3.
»■» ..ot l« j„„ ,„,„^ " 1 »t o„e„. My de, ,-, I
'""■■ •"^"'"•^ l^fore tl„a «„„ ,„, , ,*'»^' "'■ l-'Si-ning;,
- ■•■ce.ve „,, ,„, ij ,., '.-,„„«,. „,„, „„, ,^
^He„ tb„ ,„.„„ ,,„ „„ ^ I ea»,t ,.<,,„„ ,„,,,„. J
«l''-d «,e a„„, „i,h „,„; ° »; I ..„„ it ,,i„, „,» ■
of ""gnoMtto at you,. ,ij„' „, I ' " 'o )""' "I'^H «. »i,|, a |,e,|
1 "' oOBplet, bea„ty. °"'""°» "•» ""UMt.y wi|, „„( Z
i ™tiLtL' 'w,/"" ^°" "'■" ^o„ «,,a,. ,,„, ,.,
c^ .» "• iiP^nniis, as soon -.s r,.„ i. '*'' y^"'" first
'f you oa^t a look „„ .^y,^," ; f- ''-e ™te,,,„ t,,„ „,„,„,'
rf 1 :"'; ^ °' '"^ ■"«^'C 1:77 "'■"" »- - 'H
»->' 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»"<l, at
of the parlour, into ,l,i„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<i.s, roses,
"lyitlo every
'y will not 1m,
'it your first
^Ji« vestibule,
" ««e on t^e
' wJ'ieh have
' "^* l"'esei)t ;
""i.se.s to die
a cu^, hoard,
ctgo, but I
■^I'cJi r hLso
'fc "ntii it
""lament;
^'^ J'aud, at
*' the door
ier« I wi]]
nieet h^f
y is JouiT.
and thero
is a caak
COWPEB.
89
in which Jupitor keeps his wine. He swears that it is a cask,
and that it «ill never i^e anything better than a CMsk to
etoruily. So i*" the god is content witii it, we must oven
wonder at his taste, and le so too.
" Adieu ! my dearest, dearest cousin.
" W. C."
Here, by way of contrast, is a letter >. 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
<l..cu„. »t ,.., wh„,„ I have latel, di^oove-ed ^ ', t ^r:;
■■■"■e. He too, like J„h„»„, „,, „i,i ^.^^^^^^^ 4" M^dt
read l,av,„.a„ ave,,ion to all poet.y, except the ^L r ' ,1
wh.oh, on a certain occasion, when being conflnedl 1 /
*1. l.e h»„ no othe,. eu.ploj „,ent, l,e got by ! t He . °
o»eve, „„v„i,ed „ a.,i^eain.°evc/a, Its „t Tj
that, n,y vohune had ^^nljl^i^kt^, i,,^,^^ „f d,. ro^^J"
I „,.„,„ ,«rha,. have occ„,ied that .heif ia hi. me^o^ S
^1
cowPEn.
»8
he then allotted to the Doctoi" : his name is Renny, and lie
lives at Newpoif Pngnel. ^^.v >~ ^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<dit I assured him I had no influence, which he was not
equally inclined to believe, and the less, no doubt, because Mr.
Ashbuiiier, the drajjcr, addressing himself to me at this moment,
inlormed me that I had a great den]. Su{)posing that I could
not be possessed of such a treasuie without knowing it, I
ventured to confirm my first assertion, by saying, that if I had
100
tHE tKTTBRS.
any I was utteily at a loss to imagine where it could be, or
wherein it consisteil. Thus ended the conference. Mr. Gi'°n
villo squeezed n.e by the hand again, kissed the ladies, and
withdrew. He kissed likewise the maid in the kitchen, and
seemed upon the whole a most loving, kissing, kind hearted
gentleman. He is very young, genteel, and handsome. He
has a pair of very good eyes in his head, which not bein-
sufficient as it should seem for the many nice and difficult
purposes of a senator, he has a third also, which he suspended
from his buttonhole. The boys halloo'd, the dogs barked, puss
scampered, the hero, with his long train of ol^geaiyous follower
withdrew. We made ourselves very merry with the adventure
and in a short time settled into our former tranquillity, never
probably to be thus interrupted more. I thought myself,
however, happy in being able to aifirm truly that I had not
that influence for which he sued; and which, had I been
possessed of it, with my present views of the dispute between
the Ciown and the Commons, I must have reiased him, for he
is on the side of the former, fit is comfortable to be of no
consequence in a world where one cannot exercise any without
disobliging somebody. The town, however, seems to be much
at his service, and if he be eq.ialjy successful throughout the
country, he will undoubtedly gain his election. Mr. Ashhurner
perhaps, was a little mortified, because it was evident that I
. ived the honour of this visit to his misrepresentation of my
importance. But had he thought proper to assure Mr. Grenville
that I had three heads, I should not, I suppose, have been
bound to produce them.
"Mr. Scott, who you say was so much admired in your
pulpit, would be equally admired in his own, at least by all
cvpablc judges, were he not so apt to be angry with his
congregation. This hurt him, and had he the understan.iincr
nnd eloquence nf P,,„] himself, would still hurt him He
H. Idou,, hardly ever indeed, preaches a gentle, well-tempered
;^
COWPER
1
■.V
101
.e™.„ but I W it highly oommended; b„l warmth of
he .3 a good man, ,„d ,„ay perhaps outgrow it v"
ou,.elv« you,, aud Mr,. Newton's affeotionat. aud ,llL
"W. c.
"M. U."
Tn 1789 the French Revohition advancing with thunder i
tread makes even the hermit of Weston look nn f ^
from >!,•« 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<.!l<s, are extreme in
everything, are such in tli.'ii- zeal fur fr..,.!- ,„ ; and if it were
possible to make so nol.le a causo ri.liculous, tlicir manner of
promoting it could not fail to d.) so. P, inccs and p.-crs reduced
to plain gentleinanship, and gentles rcduce.l to a level with their
own hickeys, are excesses of which they will repent ho.eafter.
Differences of rank and subordination are, I believe, of God's '
appointment, and consequently ess,.nM,iI to the well-being of<-'^ '
society; but what ve moan by fiiiu4i.cisi,i in religion is exactly '^''
that which animates their politics : and uidess time sliould
sober them, they will, after all, be an unhaj)py people. Perhaps
it deserves not much to b.* wondeied at, that at their first
eecape from tyrannic shackles they should act extravagantly,
and treat their kings as they have sometimes treated the?r idol.'
To these, however, they are reconciled in duo time again, but
their respect for monarchy is at an end. They want nothing
now but a little English sobriety, and that th(,y want extreraelv^
I heartily wish them some wit in their anger, for.it were groat
pity that so many millions should be miserable for want of ii"
This, it will be admitted, is very moderate and unaj)osalyptic
Presently Monarchical Europe takes arms against the Revo-
lution. But there are two politieal observers at least who see
that Monarchical Europe is making a mistake-Kaunitz and
Cowi>er. " 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<rht
to choose tlieir own form of government, and the sovereignty
of the people is a doctrine that evinces itself; for whenever the
people choose to be masters, they always are so, and none can
COWPKR.
opaiation, and
103
liinder tliem. God grant that
lint unless we havo reform,
it, my (leur, tlio Jiour has
we may hKvo no revolution here,
we certainly shall. Depend upon
come when power fonmled on
^
1
patronage and connpt majoritier, must govern thia land no
longer. Concessions, too, mimt be n.a.lo to Dissenters of every
'l.-nom.nation. They have a right to them -a right to all the
privileges of Englishmen, an.l sooner or later, by fair means or
by toul, they will have them." Even in 1793. ihou..h he
V expresses, as he well n.ight, a cordial abhorrence ol' the d.,in.rs
^ 01 the French, he culls them not fiends, but "madcaps." He
^ (expresses the strongest indignation against the Tory mob which
sacked Priestly's house .,t Hirmingh.m, as he does, in justice
be It said, against all ma,nf,.stations of fanaticism. We cannot
-yhelp sometimes wishing, as we read these passages in the
^ ^ letters, that their calinneas and reasonableness co.ihl hav<, been
V . commun.cate<l to another '< OM Whig," who was setting the
^'^ world on fire with his Ki.ti-revolutionary rhetoric.
■Vv ^* ^8 *'"«' 'i« Ji'is already been said, that Cowper waa
,;^"e)^tr{^mjmdane;"and that his political reasonableness was in
part the result of the fancy that he and his fellow-saints had
nothing to do with the worl.l but to keep themselves clear of it
and let it go its own way to destruction. But it must also b^
admitted that while the w.alth of Establishments, of which
Burke was the ardent defender, is necessarily reactionary in the
highest degree, the tendency of religion itself, where it is
genuine and sincere, must be to repress any selfi.sh feeling about
class or position, and to make men, in temporal matters, more
willing to sacrifice the present to the future, especially where
the hope is hel.l out of moral as well as of material improve- '\v^\
ment. Thus it has come to piiss that men who professed and x^"'
imagined themselves to have no interest in this world, have j^
ptatically been its great reform.^rs and improvers in the nnVui^i w v^
and material
as
well as in the moral sjjhei
provers in the political
M
\r-~j
The last specimen shall be one in the more sententious style '^
m
104
TllK LKTTERS.
'-1
and one which proves that Cowpor was capable of w.itin. in a
judicious n.annor o,. a dimvult and delicate question-even a
qm.st,on so di.Hoult and so delicate as that of the propnety of
painting the face. ^ ^
To THE Rev. William Unwin.
"My dear F.<iEND,-The subject of fW. ^'"'^''''' ''^'''
., , T ,. . ' »iu>]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<rht
be her duty, as well as her intereoC, to conijily. But I think
'I
■"I
108
THE LETTERS.
^
v*
.e would not much consult hk own, for reasons that will
follow. In the first place, she would admire hex-self the more •
and m the next if she nonaged the matter well, she mi^ht be
...ore adnnred by othe:.; an acquisition that might bri.:! her
virtue under tnals, to which otherwise it migl,: never lave
'.oen exposed In no other case, however, can j imagine the,
P.nct,ce m th. count.y to be either ex,^ient or con:en I't^
As a general one it certainly is not expedient, because in
general Engl.sh wo.nen have no occasion for it. A swarthy
complexion is a rarity he.e ; and the sex, especfaHy sti
.nocu a ion has been so much in use, have very ittle cause ^
01 complexion. They ma, hide and spoil a good one- Imf ,!,„
cannot at least they ha,,„y can, gi.e 'hen,.erves a l' B t
hTu 7 T • """■" " ^'" ' ''■'^'"'y '■> *» -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!<i him from tli,.
•e in dol..rul plight.
I Miiscnihlo manner
o"i a Sfhoolmuster
i» liis suner mood
a Hpiritiml omcJe,
h tht) spiiifc-worhj,
ttaji talked, Mrs.
ol the expenditure,
»"d at tlie same
'e-inspii-ed tact by
' woakn. ,, and to
ipectfiil treatment
1 had fail;;d, and
yley now ])roved
J'» conjunction
C'VhI of the i)air
Norfolk, where
the sea, then to
in 1796) to East
'■al. Mrs. Unwin
s loss. On the
lethcr there waa
corpse, he gazed
'y o^ gi'ief, and
10 misfortune to
3h relatives and
led the jdace of
1 of leason and
n '"as eon fined
bic and almost
COWPMIt
113
Ob8cur...(, nigi.t involved the sky
Uc Atlantic hillowa roared. '
Whene„chack.Ht.ne.lwrotchaHl.
\\ash.na.a,ilongf,o,„onb„Hnl.
Offnen.is. of hop,., of all bereft,
Hi8 floating homo for ever left.
No braver chief could Albion boast
Ihan he with ulmn. he went.
Nor ever ahip Mt Albion's coaat
With warmer wLsUs sent
Ho loved them both, but both in vain.
Nor lum beheld, nor her again.
Not long beneath the wheln.ing brine
I'.xpert to Bwim, he lay •
Nor soon he felt his strength deeline.
Or courage die away ;
But waged with death a lasting strife
Supported by despair of life.
Ho shouted ; nor his friends had fail'd
To check the vessel's course,
But so ^he furious blast prevail'd.
That /iriljss perforce
They left their outcast mate behind.
And scudded still before the wind.
Some succour yet they could afford;
And, such as storms allow,
The cask, the coop, the floated cord,
Delay'd not to bestow :
But he they knew, nor ship nor shore.
yavr, snouid visit more.
Nor, cruel u it seem'd, could he
Their haste himself condemn,
Aware that flight, in auoh « m,
f'l
-"m-
ll4 ('l,()SK OF MFK.
Alono ('(MiUl rcniMui tln'tn ;
Yet l.iKor foK, it wiill to dio
Dosoiti'tl. Aiul hJH friotulB ro nigh.
Ho lon^ mirvivcs, wlio lives im hour
111 ocoaii, Holf-uplicld ;
Aiiil s<i l.iiij^ h(>, 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, <m i
thoKev. William lienha.n, MacmiUan atl cr s' . '■' '"''"""' "^'"-'^ ''>'
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. <ieorgc Cral.he (17n4-18rv2), author of the poems
T^: f^ir^^^Vnior, TJ. ParUh l^l.er. Tales in Verse, etc
dllh .hows vigorous portraiture of charaeter and scenes, m wh.ch
the uc tails are wonderfully exact.
^ 99 Burns. I'ol'crt Burns (1759-1790). His poems, 7'<n»
OShttr, clrs Saturdo, Ni,ld, and lyrics, are all eharactenzed by
Inch truth and freshness of feeling that with them Knghsh poet.y
may be said to have begun a new life.
5 28. Southey's biography. The W,n-ks^wmk.n C^c,,^,
wiU; a life of the author by Uobert Southey, Poet Laureate. \ ol. I.,
l?ohn, London, 18ii3.
fi 5 What he did for Nelson. Referring to Southey's Li/-.-
.^\t».v^rk which, in its natural simplicity of style jo.nc.l w.th
4fsympathy with its heroic subject, has not been surpassed u, onr
biiii'raphical literature.
6,6. Nobility of the robe. Men ennobled for their eunnence
in law.
6 10 the pretty Quakeress. "Spencer Cowper, ]w\gc
' Lt tt l..n.e oircu.t and was aciuainto.d w.th a <iuaker
,.nily a Hertford, nan,ed Stout. . . • The daughter S-ah Stou
.11 I love with him, though he was already marru.l, and becan
lucholyupou his av..iding her con.pany. At the «!-'. -~
i. 1 1. M,=o in thp evenine . . . returned to Uis own
ir><)') 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-.
.■ </.-devout, eharital.le to tlie poor, full ..f .Hvinc wisdom, hut
unpractical m his gentle simplemiudedness.
tio!',?V .^?f ®°"^ism (•^■'"''' '=■«'•'-'«). Con.lition of hol.ling a posi-
tion that yields emolument without entailing duties.
7, 31. pluralities.
tical olHee— or r.itl
Condition of hold
ler enjoying the ineonie of i
ing more than one ec«l
lesias-
iiiore than one.
122
rowpKrt.
fr:
n CM Hogarth William Hogarth (1097-1764), painter -i.(
' SS ctccially as the satirist of the follies aiul vices of
engrave.. cele..tc. ecu ly .^ ^^^^^^^^ ^^^^^.. ^^^
1^ :;S0 V: r : ( < F;;..:::i».le Marriage - ). it is eo.pos.I ..
c.rravi'Js fnna his pictures illustrating the marriage of a wealthy
:;,Z;;;:r;hter .ilhagreat h.r.l.the ^^^^-^^l^^^^^Zl
cniple to each other, resulting in the faithlessness of the wife, he eath
of ier hushan.l at the han.ls of her paramour, who is himself put to
la an.l the suiciae of the distracted wife. The details of the
e ^ ti^gs give a masterly hut horrible picture of eveiy phase o
social lif^-its heartlessness, seltishness. avarice, hypoensy^ " /.
Elernon (8, '^2) are represented four characteristic scenes of an o "^t' -
election a riotous political dinner, canvassing or rather bribing ine
electors, polling the Votes, chairing the member,-scene« for the most
Tiart of brawls xvA intemperance.
8 1 Fielding. Henry Fielding {1707-1754^. The hrst great
Eifglisli ...^ S SH.r of the novels Jo..,k An,^:os, T.n Jo.es r^
aL., which, though often indelicate, show the greatest genius u
their graphic description of character and in their brilliancy of wit
Htcharacters, as we see from 8, 8 ; 8. 9 ; 29, 4, have become standard
*^r'i SmoUet Tobias Smollet (1721-1771), author, chiefly
,iZoy:As,~J^o,l.nrk Random, Pcrerjrlne Pickle, Humphrey Clinker etc.
remarkable for a hearty though coarse humour, vigorous portraiture of
life of a l<.ose kin.l, and a .piick eye of the eccentricities of character.
8, 2. Marriage. See note 7, 34.
8 3. Chesterfield. The Earl of Chesterfield (1G94-1773), whoso
nanie is remembered as the synonym of the polished and corrupt gentle-
,nan of the eighteenth century. His Letters to his Son show a curunis y
low moral sense-gambling and seduction are to him polite accomplish-
mcnts-mixe.l with kn..wledge of life, and are so far as style goes
agreeable reading. Cowper pointed his bitterest satire at this
" polish'.! and high-iinish'd foe to truth." See p. 51.
8, 5. Wilkeses. See 1(5, 5.
8 6 Hell-flre Club. The Medmenham Brotherhood or Fran-
ciscan Club, a well-known society famous for its debaucheries and for
its blasphemous parodies of the rites of the Catholic religion, (l^cky,
iii CO)." Its president was Sir Francis Dasliwood. Lord Sandwich was
a member, "one of the most prolli."'te noblemen of his time." (Lecky,
iii., S3.)
NOTKS.
123
■^ very lovable cuntrv .s,„i. • J^i ' ■ """"'' """■'"""' """'-*•
• 111 ■ ^'*"'' '"""'"• l>'<»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 an<l Sept., 18G4.
13, 14. St. Margaret's. A parish church a few yards north
of Westminster Ahhey.
13 17. Vincent Bourne (1097-1747). A Camhri.lge nm.
(A m' 17-'1), fellow of Trinity College, usher in We.tnvmster Sehoo
ani-ing most of the ren.aining years of Ins life. Jlis work en.l.races short
Latin poems, translations into Latin of I'lnglish pocu.s, and ep.taphs m
Latin and ICnglish. Ho is praised for the originality and variety o his
thought, for his delicate humour ar.d line inspiration, for the punty ot
l.Ks Latin, and f<.r a versilicatio.,, the facility .an.l harmony of winch are
not surpassed hy any nu)dern writer of Latin poetry.
13. 20. "I love the memory," etc. Cowpcr's letter to the
Kev. \vm. Unwin, May '2.S, 17S1.
13 21. Tibullus («/'"/' M (n.c.57-IS). The chief of th--
Latin' elegiac poets, a tender, th<.ugh at tin.es even elTcnunato wnter,
moved by keen feeling for the pleasures of nature and country life.
I Cowpt'i's own
few yards north
pcr's letter to tho
13, 21. Propertius (/>m pn-' .!,„..) (n.r. r.lJl<i). a Latin ch.«iac
1»).L i.t manly and iinluiKMidcnt diaiuetur.
13, 21. Ausonius ('- s./ /u /w). n.ni in Hurdoaux in the
.■:i.l.V part of tl.u tuurth ...ntuiy, Au«„nins hccanu. tutor tu (l.atian
s.m ..f the omiu.n.r VaLntinian. 11. wrot.. Ki.iy.an.s. Mvilia. etc.!
wind., th.nigli nmch ...slu..n..-.l l.y his ..•o„t,,.M.iu.ra.i,.s, a.v now n-ard...l
as h.rood .-vu.l trilling in stylo an.l chararfT. H„ ,li.d at.out a.k .•{•(I.
13 22. Ovid. Tl.r j-roat Latin poot {V.l ,,c.-IS a.i..). author
h/>,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 <lisiii'li upon si\ uiiil livi',
Where Discipliiic helps oiiciiin- hiul.s of sense.
And nmkes his ixipils proLd with silver peiiee,
I was ;i poet too.'
Cowju'r, Tiihlf Talk, riO? ff.
14, 20. Ely Place. In Holborn, London. Then tenement
(l)ut now busniess) houses occupying the site of the "hoatell," or
l-on(h)n house of the bishops of Ely.
14, 21. "giggling-." So Cowpcr wrote to Lady Ileskcah years
aft.r: "[ .spent my days, in Southampton Itow, as you very well
■ein.Mnber. There was 1 an.l the future Lord Chancellor, constantly
.:n,pl<,yed from .norning to night, in giggling and nuiking giggle, inst.'a"d
ot studying the law."
14, 29. Thurlow. Edward, Lord Thurlow (17;}2- 1826), by great
tal(;nt an.l in.lustry n.so to be Attorney-CJeneral an.l Cli.incellor, the
highest post in the English judiciary, and to wicl.l an important thou-h
n.)t always useful part in [Hilitics. "
15, 2. Middle . . Inner Templo. A district in London once
owned by the or.ler of Knights Templars. The property passed to tho
^2 f^nights of St. .Jul
of law. Tn 1 (JOS it
m, who iease.l p.)rtions of tho buil.lings to .stud
e.ime into the han.ls of tw
cuts
o .societies of the law, the
nner Temple and Mie Mi,],lle Temple, who Iease.l chambers t
o barristers.
126 oowpKn.
15 8. Templars. A j^encrftl name for students of law, etc., resid-
ing in till! 'I'l'iiiplc.
15, 23. Lyons Inn, I-ym's lim, in Newcastle street, .Strand,
was one of the l>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-<r\ n r.i
-I-ato from lus\ f J "'* ','' -.^ > < .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.<iseinhlinp to
sail from Aidis to Troy, its leader Ag.amemnon, while hunting, killed a
stai' R.icred to Dian.a. For this the goddess visited tho fleet with pesti-
NOTES.
l-'l)
r, A.M. (i7;n-
Quoted from
lence, nor ^vas appoasc.l till Iphigeuia Of Uj.nt a), thu .'.-u.-htcT of
Agamcnuon. had be.,„ offered up to ].er a. a sacri.iee. (See Tcnnysons
Dream uf Fair Women.) J "" «■
18 19. hypochondria (/./>./•.«' ,/,,-,,). 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 {</v /<nm{<j) zauii{'j) umn'(<j)). A
French adverbial phrase, 'from tune to time.'
30, 27. Lord Chamberlain. An oilicer who, with other
duties, has the lieensiiiy of theatres in towns containing a royal palace,
the authorising of all new plays to be therein i)erf()rnied, ami the oveisw-
ii!g of the royal musicians, etc. C^owpcr refers humorously to Mrs.
Uuwiu's licensing power over his writings.
30, 33, described by the new inmate. In Cowper's letter
to his cousin, wife of Major Cowper (H», IS), Oct. -JO, 170G.
30, 34. gentle inhabitants. Italicised to impress the idea of
'gentlefolk,' ' [)ooplo of good family;' and thus to avoid a uossiI)lc
ambiguity. ( 'f. ' gentlemanhood,' ,3.S, L
31, 15. Martin. Martin Madan (see 21, 14), Mrs. Cowper's
brotiier. Jle had some musical skill. The ])opular tune /lelm.slri/, " Lo;
Ho comes with clouds descending," was composed by him. (Henham. )
31, 16. harpsichord. A harp-shaped instrument played with
key", but touching the '>\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,' <al.ility to,ivo a g..o,l .ocount ..f hi.n.sdf
(L. sjiimido, I pniiiiiHc).
..'??\^^'i ^..^^® ^ Stricken deer. (,)..,.Um1 fr,,,,. yy,. Task
" llio (ianleu,"!. 108, ff. '
to take the order „f p.-.est ' m the episcopal churches.
33, 32. neophyte (>ic i>ftie). 'A new eoi.verf wn, ,.
y'/*"^.», plaut). -^ ^ -' ' '»- '"^^^ i-omut ((.k. «t<«, new,
adverbial phrase,
(,'/) taim'(<j)). A
CHAPTKIl III.
•/■ft.^?ij*,..'!r- °'°- ■'■"" """"""" " ■^'"■""' '"•■» '■"•■
'Hero Oils,., slow-windiiif,' tlirou;^!, a lovul i.l.-iin
Of Kpacious iiieiuls with caltlu spriiiklod o'er.' '
35, 13. sons of Eli. " His sous made tlicmseJves vile, and he
rustranied them not." 1 bam. iii., 13.
v^^vP\-7.^^^ a coronet. The honorary head-dre.s.s of (he
."gh«h nobihty wliieh Lord J>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<l
Jiuiiliinn, i>. 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« <l""nea his lion's
^Q, 20. Samson. Judges, chapters U, 15 16
56. 24 T'liQ .?+r>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 <iuotation from -.,
letter to tiiu Kev. Win. Unwin, Oct. 10, 1784.
58, 4. ice palace, etc. A description in Tlie Task " Tli ■
Winter MowMng Walk," 1. ]27(f., of the iee-palace built on the banks
ot tlie ^eva by the Empress Anna, 1740.
58, 20 "intimate delights." Quoted from The Tad-
Winter." See GO, 31.
58, 26. A1C03US (nUe'm). A great lyric poet of Greece who
flour :hed at Mytele'ne about the beginning of the sixth century n ,•
ILs works, of which fragments remain, were odes lamenting national
dissensions and persona! misfortunes or voicing hatred of tyrants or
praise of love ami wine. The cjuotation descriptive oi him is translated
from Horace, Ode.'i, i. xxxii., Cff.
58, 29. Ranelagh. Rotunda and gardens on the site of the
villa and gardens of Karl Ranelagh. offering to the London public
from 1,42 to 1803 a very popular place of amusement. Promena.l.
concerts and masquerades wore tlie chief attractions.
58, 30. Basset Table. Basset was a card game, very like faro
a favourite with the gamblers of the eighteenth century.
etc. From The Task, "Winter Evening,'
59, 4. now stir.
1. ms.
??; ?\, ^^ °^^®^ ^^* ^°* inebriate. It has been pointed
out that this expression is really due to Bishop Berkeley (l(iS4- 175.1) ■
lar water) "is of a nature so mihl and benign an.l proportioned to tl.r
human constitution, as to warm without l.eatin.i.' an<l to cj.oor and mA
inebriate. " Siris, II 217. We may well be grateful to Cowper for find-^
ing the true purpose of the phrase.
NOTES.
143
"The Sofa," I. l.
quotation from
from The Tad\
60,38. Thomson. Jimies Thomson n7no ^7^Q^ .1-
tcenth century and conied WFn T , ''■"*''''' "^ *•"-" «^^«i-
..Charactered ^^rtZ!::^, T^l ^l^f ^^T'" ^^
6. 91 "A V •: ^"^^^'^"•'''^'•"^•^'"^'""g to this class.
So^!"! T44fr. """^ '^*^^^"'" ^*^- Q"«*^^ ^-m Tke n.k, "Tke
62, 10. Overthwart. "Across."
.■w4t, cottar'"" '■*"" """''• '"• "■«" »"■"•>•■ (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 re<non
outside of this world. ' = o «
I
ier(1775.18ol), tho
[• stewing, etc. (O.
Juotecl from Tlo
I
NOTES.
115
70 14. "fragrant lymph." 'Tea.' The w.,nl 'iv„.pi.. m.^
M>f>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£,<i a '"
was conferred upon him by the Crown, Rose was appointed his tr us tee"
— Benham, LtUers of Coxcpa; xvii. ^''•
73, 10 the statutory. The text has here a misprint ■ rea.l
statuary ' (one who m.kes statues,. The quotation is from "wl"'
lettertoLady Ifesketh, Nov. 27, 17S7. ""' v/owpti b
!'
W I
CHAPTER VI.
74.4. letter to William Unwin. Feb. 9. 1782.
Th!^T' \^'- ^^"^ ^"^"^"^^ "^ ^^^^S. "As smoke into the air"
1 he Latin is a quotation from Virg,], yEneid, v. 740.
75, 21. letter to Lady Hcsketh. Jan. 16, 1786.
76, 11. devoirs (d^v u-awr./ ). Fr lit 'flnfioc'
devoirs, pay one's rc.pects by calling on. ' ' """'^"^ '"'
-c. with Bishop jebb (i755-ir3risef; o^lrh?;:^^^^^^^^
he ha. over that prelate, and through Vini oCehf^gim" fX
Oxford movement of Newman, Pusey. an.l Keble. ^'"""'^ "^ *^'^
77, 24. letter already quoted. On p. 20f.
78, 10. "weU." See .30, (5.
78,11. Weston. About a mile from < )!..,.„ ,*• • ., . ,
prettiest villages in Encrland " cZ , '"/^'"^^^ ' '* '« ""»« of the
fees j^ngiana, — Cowper to Unwin, July 3, 1786.
78, 15. his Mr. and Mra Wmcr ti.o*- • /-.
With «..„, .„,,„,„;„„ u,™S;iL~t M 't"'M:T •""■'t;""
lette t„ Jin.. Throck,.,„rto„, Muj 10, 1780, "^ ^^ '"'
KOTES.
ce of the court.
147
into the air."
M-!?', , • «P°^*^V« ^'S^^-" I'''-'"" nc Task, "The S„fa," 1
.r.,i\ .k.scnbn.g Mr. lhrock„H,rton'« gank,,, of ^vhieh Cowper ha.l
th. key ami liberty. The names "wiklerness" and "grove" dis-
tiiiguish different parts of it.
'Sosportivois theliKlit
Shot thront;h the 1 ou^hs, it (iaiices as tlie.v dance.'
78, 21. the Wilderness. "The Sof.a," i. .351 ff.
78,26. the Grove. "Tlie 8ofa," 1. 354 fr.
79, 1. Vignebte irfn yrt'). Here, a sn.all, delieately drawn
p.c tu,. in a hook Literally, the vignette in a deeorative .lesign as in a
I'o.'k, consisting of a vine braneh an<l ten.lrils (Fr. nV//,< , vintj
79 3. Gayhurst " About four miles from 0]ney."-Cowper to
the I!ev. A^ m. Unwm, Sept. 21, 1779.
79, 25. "the mind of man was not a fountain."
80, 11. An ink-giass. 0,/, to Apolh, Globe ed., p. 312.
80, 11. a flatting mill. 'A n)ill for rollinc ,„etal into tlnn
sheets.' See The Flatihuj MW, (ilobe ed., p. 3.39.
(.lohe ed., p. 35o. '
80 23. Hudibras. A poem by Samuel Butler (1612-1G80)
ridiculing the Puritans in a burlesciue (,f wonderful variety.
80, 25. A friendship, etc. Quoted from Frkmhhip, \. I03 ff.
80,28. hand-in-hand insurance plates. " The ' Hand-in-
Hand,' which still issues these plates is the oldest of the insurance
companies, dating from ie96."-Benham, p. 525.
81, 31. Cowley. Abraham Cowley (10181067), author of a
series of poems called The Mi.trei<s, of Pindaric Cde,, and an ei.ic The
Davidci... His poctiy is hurt by false taste, the first named series being
replete with forced figures and ideas ('conceits') that were admired in
his day.
82, 6. the cistern. See 79, 25.
82, 33. episode of Thersites. Thersi'tes, bandy-Iegj^ed
lame, dl-favoured, given to reviling of the kings, turned his upbraidings
"u Agamemnon, and was chastised for it at the hands of Ulysses.-
IVmd, ii.
83, 3. Andromache (an drom' a l-e). She was wife to the
Trojan Hector, whom she dearly loved. Her lament is in Iliad, xxiv.
-ammmm^-
f
14.S
COWJ-KR.
83,4. Adinon epos. CcMwin Smith \, ovi.ieutly ,,uotii, -
wthout th. l.,.,.k. Tl.o text i. .rxu-o, not ..An., au.l <.ccH.rH withnue
variant rea.hng, J/. 24. 744. .,.,ror n.oans thick.«ut, olo«e, etc.; «ou.c.
times aouii.l, wisci ; ,so Monro's llomur.
ro|n; translates :
" SoMR. wonl tho,> 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<leas of others in combinations of our own
making, we do acquire a propertv-right in those ideas, and can withr •
risk of copying put all books under contribution. We may then s v
with Moli^re, je prends mon hicn, ok je le trouve, I take my own wherev .
I find it.
But originality in a higher sense than that of the assimilation of
thought and the use of it in new combinations, is possible with books.
Ideas are like seeds in the mind, they have a germinating power. Plant
a great idea, leave it, and lo ! when you return, it has become the centre
of a group of thoughts that have unconsciously gathered about it from
your own experience. This is the utmost that we can consciously do to
train ourselves to bo original thinkers. Let us, therefore, read our
authors with pencil and memory for whatever ideas of nature and human
life tlioy express that seem to ns true and beautiful. We .slj.il! then I—
oh the highway to that greatest of mental powers, originality of
thout'hh
APPKNDIX.
ins
Jrs, originality of
But roa.ling is not o„ly a .lis-ipline an.l feeling of tho„d.t it in . f .„•
f^alur speak ; to yo h ■ '" Tl ''^ '""' "'^' '''^ "'"*'"'• ">"'
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<mie extent the Btyjistic oiwiliH,.^ ,.f +I u ^ ^ ""*'''''' *"
preparations are n.ade, there ren.ains the T , . '"'" *''^''"
con.o fron. his own experienee so h .t H '"*'"'^"'^« "''^^'^^ that
a.lhere„ce to the text S ^r./ , r ^•'"^'•'■>^'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,: ' '"" "'""^""" ^'^^^ ""<l
•ve >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>.<a;A9 ;« mirmdr, viust he preaenied, point hy point in
the order of their occurrence, in order of tbm. ^ '
Correlation of Z^eto^7,.-The details that Scott brings forward have
W. w,,e a c ose interdependence. The cireun.stanees that b, ng to
ge erlressdjan and I'arney and their mortal hatred induce ti.oLt
wl„ le the nnfrequented natnre of tiie garden facilitates it. Thus the
ght-Varney s v.gour, counterbalanced by Tressilian's skill ; his dev
tot^lk^^tTu" T'^'r '"'^' '^ *''" ^'^"-'^ watchful. "
tho 8 ruggle that followed, endnig through TrcBsilian's dexterity as n
wrestler .a the fall of Varney ; the appearance of Land.ourne a tLtd
by ho sound of blows, just at the critical n.o.nent.-all 1 ese d ta Is J
seeni fo.ccd but us made to appear the natural, probable outcome of the
cond,t.ons that tho author brings forward. A brief, we .see that
detads ,re so chosen that each has a direct bearing on the them «
have an mterdependenco such that every incident seen.s nat^ ally tf
grow from that which precedes it or from the character, traini g L,
etc of the actors ; and they are of such a nature, taken i^ all Tat tl ov
J"«t.fy, as cause and effect, the outcome of the incident. Hence!! '
r/^S^i?/?'"^''"'-' '"'"' '"-' "''''^'^'^^'^«'^«'^ ^<^ch conlrihutinn to the main
course, must, hnv^ ...^f .""'"'!' "V"!""' "'"'^'-'"*'' ^^•'"'^''' "^
:-i./.rn.thjs;i;:;,r^^
b.ud pressed n. h.s turn.- "one of Tressilian's passes. " etc. 1^:-
point by point, in
i»ale S.~Economtze the ihtniu . , -i
Mnr.nce only to the chief iniUl'Z ""'''"' ^''''""'^^"'■e h particular
IS able to evoke an ever-increa in' Tn ^"^ "' ""'^ ""^^«« *'"^ ^^^'^^r
-0 follow the incidents o he Z.titoT "\*'" ''^*^ ^' *''^ ^'-'>- ^«
■» .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<l at the outset tha o ^ ^ H " T " T 1 *''"^"- '' ^^'" '-^
- t in every narrative. V,v dc cH ' ' "" • ^'^'"^" '''" ""l'"''^'*"*
"■I setting of the incidents c It 1 "■'. '"\ '"" "" '^"-k-ground
tl.o personages are to n.ov Zl^",'"T-'"'^ '^^''''-P^'— n which
«tory, and afford a re f Vo i, " . '" '^'' '^^"'•^'^**^''^ «^ ^ho
interest. ^'"'" ^'''^ "'""»*«"y of ."v I-urely narrative
tl.e m-teffectivonrod o t ;/'" "T" '"^"'"^ = "'''^^'' ^>^'^-
^''-u^i-theconversatroLftLct 7 tT"'?"; " '" -'^-1.-0 it
tl.e incidental suggestion n.ostl^ulti:; ' "" '"^"^*'*^" '^ -«-*>
^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 ine (letai s ;ia tlmv rr.>-...ii,.,i <i. i
to him in journeymg through the di«.rent .'^T^ ' 3 r'^^r
t.e so-cale. trarel/er's point of run,, he employed in <lesc b n^'Z;
> 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 <UU\U « f 1 , .
■evealed at a fixed point. " ^ ^''' "'^^^ ''"^"^'^ ""* ^^
Rulo 3.-7;/ the selection of the details the -.writer n,,,t be guided by the
Mbhhmhkm
«HiMI|M^
164
COWPEIl,
li
point of vicio from wJiich he writes, lit mm stkct only such dttaihas
harmonhc with his pkm.
{b) Economy of DetailH.-Scott might h.vve cimniorated a mass ..f
details, architectural, military, an.l historical. Ho chooses, however
only those that call uj, the elementary characteristics of the castle, ami
thus lectures it clearly and simply to lis.
Rule 4.— When many details present themselves it is letter to make the
most of the most rhaructn-ls/ie, ktti„<, the others rest in the bacbjround or
he siujijesled by (he yeneral tone of the description.
(c) Sequence of Details.- Ag^iu, there is a rational arrangement of
.letails. They follow a reg„l;,r or.ler-from the outer wall we pass the
gardens, then to the central castle, it i details and character ; then turn-
ing we survey the southern wall with lake and chase beyond. In just
such a way would the eye take in the scene.
Rule 5. -Follow the natural sequence of details as they reveal Ihem-
selves one by one to the observer.
(IV. ) The Summary or Conclusion.-Tho advantage of the Conclusion is
that It summarises and lixes tiie details of the description. The reader
IS enabled to gather the full significance of the scene, and the writer,
rising upon the details he has enumerated, is afTorde.l an opportunity for
cliinactenc eflfect, by which he can give a powerful and satisfying liuish
to his composition.
Rule 6.— There should, in yeneral, be a Conclusion or Summar,, that
''•dl summarize the details of the description, and give the composition its
liiijhest elevation of tone.
Sketches of persons are equally as interesting as sketches of scenes
from nature or the works of man. The portraits of the personages of
KenUivorlh are sketched with easy, yet clear outlines. Examine any one
of these and It will be found to be written in very much the same lines
as the description discussed above. Tony Foster, for example is
introduced by a reference of his general ugliness, followed by details
of stature, eyes, features, and general impression made on Tressilian.
In Cowper, Mr. (Joldwin Smith brings forward many descriptions of
different subjects but following a very siijiilar plau, e.g., "The Task "
Chapter V. '
t only such detuila i
APPKND.x. igft
The Task.
Theme and Introduction. The inspiratiou „f the 7W-La.ly Austen.
^'""^' ^^'"'^'^' "» it« Sfutiincnt, its j.lan, its mh.
jfct-niiittcr, its attiui.le tcwanls natuiv,
its vursiiicatioii.
Conclusion, Ffro,.f „.. n < .•
Jl-ttect on f^oNvpor's tanic, with details.
ft as they reveal them-
HTtlDIKS AND EXEKCLSKS I.N De.SCRIITION.
Kenihvorth.
I. CumiKir Hall.
II. Woodstock.
III. Lidcote Hall.
IV. KeiiiKvortli (Jastle.
V. The llev'uls at Kenihvorth.
VI. Antony Foster.
VII. Michael Lanihourne.
^'^II. (jiles Gosling.
-iX. Dickie .Shulgu, I'libbertigibbei,
X. Wayland Smith.
XI. Tressilian.
XII. Walter llaleigh.
XIII. Richard Varney.
X^v^ Sussex.
XV. Leicester.
XVI. Amy Rol)sart.
XVII. Queen l-Jlizaheth.
XVni. Oluey.
X I X.. Weston.
X X. Cowper.
XXI. Mrs. Unwin.
XXII. Newton,
XXIII. Lady Hesketh.
I-ii/e of Cowper.
166
OOWl'P.H.
li I i-
l\
if
'u.f r . ( )«ho„I.l he uuule Uu: Hubjoot of H,.ccial ,.re,,arntio„ by rerwlin^^ (h-
«or.lHtobock.8cr.be.l ; thn essayist will Uun, -indth..,. o,.ly, writ, with sincerity a,.,!
ca«e. a.Hl have at his coniinaiKl thoHe lefcrenocs and .luotatlons which ni ,
.■inimalioti to hia work.
XXIV. The Oln^y Hymns.
XXV. The Moml Satires.
XXVI. •Th(, Task.
(i.) "The,«..;n." • •
(ii.) "Thi; V, inter K veiling."
<iii.) "T!K(ianlfi.
(iv.) "Thu Winter M„iningW;ilk."
XXVII. *Sonie iVIinor PoeniH.
XXVIir. Translations.
XXIX. * Letters.
(Benhani'seditiun, (;„l,kn Treasury Series, ■ antains a
good aelection. )
\
[JFort ifaneral themes.]
XXX.
XXXI.
XXXII.
XXXIII.
A Privy (Jouncil Me.ting in Elizabeth's Reign.
The Court of Eli/,;il)etli.
The (Jonditiou of Jliigland at (.'owper'a Birth.
(ieneral Charaeteristios of Cowper's Toetry. „ ,,^-^^,/c.^;
P m I
I
-tx
^i
I J v«-^ ,",,<XA/W-<»->"'/'^
L'paratiori l»v reading' the
viilr with Kinocril.v ami
IH which !\'
Series, ontains a
Reign,
irtli.
\