67

that more notice seemed to be taken of us than we could possibly have expected, indeed rather more than any of the other guests; they even seemed anxious to recommend themselves to our regards. We drank chocolate, and were asked to dine, but were engaged 66.” "It is not possible to conceive a more engaging and agreeable character than the gentleman's, or a more consummate assemblage of all that is called goodnature, complaisance, and innocent cheerfulness than is to be seen in the lady. They have lately received. many gross affronts from the people of the place, on account of their religion. We thought it therefore the more necessary to treat them with respect "." —“ A day or two after, Mrs. Unwin and I walked that way, and were overtaken in a shower. I found a tree, that I thought would shelter us both, a large elm, in a grove that fronts the mansion. Mrs. T. observed us, and running towards us in the rain, insisted on our walking in. He was gone out. We sat chatting with her till the weather cleared up, and then at her instance took a walk with her in the garden. The garden is almost their only walk, and is certainly their only retreat, in which they are not liable to interruption. She offered us a key of it in a manner that made it impossible not to accept it, and said she would send us one: a few days afterwards, in the cool of the evening, we walked that way again. We saw them going toward the house and exchanged bows and curtesies at a distance, but did not join them. In a few minutes, when we had passed the house, and had almost reached the gate that opens out of the park 67 To Mr. Newton, May 10, 1784.

66 To Mr. Unwin.

into the adjoining field, I heard the iron gate belonging to the court-yard ring, and saw Mr. T. advancing hastily toward us; we made equal haste to meet him, he presented to us the key, which I told him I esteemed a singular favour, and after a few such speeches as are made on such occasions, we parted. This happened about a week ago. I concluded nothing less, than that all this civility and attention was designed, on their part, as a prelude to a nearer acquaintance; but here at present the matter rests. I should like exceedingly to be on an easy footing there, to give a morning call now and then, and to receive one, but nothing more. For though he is one of the most agreeable men I ever saw, I could not wish to visit him in any other way; neither our house, furniture, servants, or income, being such as qualify us to make entertainments; neither would I on any account be introduced to the neighbouring gentry."

The intercourse, however, proceeded farther than Cowper anticipated. He soon found himself a favourite visiter at Weston Hall, and for that reason was a frequent one. Incidents connected with the family led him to compose several of those minor pieces that give so much pleasure in the little circles for which they are designed, and on which the reputation of such a writer stamps a value when they are made current in the world of literature. In the easy intercourse of growing intimacy, Mr. and Mrs. Throckmorton became Mr. and Mrs. Frog, and by that inevitable name have obtained a more lasting remembrance in Cowper's letters than could have been conferred on them by a ducal title.

CHAP. XI.

COWPER AT OLNEY. JOHN GILPIN RENDERED POPULAR BY HENDERSON'S RECITATION. PUBLICATION OF THE TASK. RENEWAL OF INTERCOURSE WITH LADY HESKETH.

THE Task meantime was finished,.. that monument which, though not loftier than the pyramids, will more surely perpetuate its author's name, than those eldest of human works have handed down the history of their founders. It was transcribed in the autumn of 1784, and sent to Mr. Unwin for his perusal. "I know," said Cowper," you will lose no time in reading it; but I must beg you likewise to lose none in consigning it to Johnson, that if he chooses to print it, it may go to the press immediately; if not, that it may be offered directly to your friend Longman, or any other. Not that I doubt Johnson's acceptance of it, for he will find it more ad captum populi than the former1."

Unwin's opinion of the work relieved Cowper from some anxiety, and gave him " a good deal of positive pleasure." "I have faith in your judgement," said he, "and an implicit confidence in the sincerity of your approbation. The writing of so long a poem is a serious business, and the author must know little of his own heart who does not in some degree suspect himself of partiality to his own production: and who is he that would not be mortified by the discovery that he had written five thousand lines in vain? If, when you make the offer of my book to Johnson, he should stroke his chin, and look up to the ceiling and crySept. 11, 1784.

1

'Humph!'-anticipate him (I beseech you) at once, by saying that you know I should be sorry that he should undertake for me to his own disadvantage, or that my volume should be in any degree pressed upon him. I make him the offer merely because I think he would have reason to complain of me, if I did not.'— But that punctilio once satisfied, it is a matter of indifference to me what publisher sends me forth. If Longman should have difficulties, which is the more probable, as I understand from you, that he does not in these cases see with his own eyes, but will consult a brother poet, take no pains to conquer them. The idea of being hawked about, and especially of your being the hawker, is insupportable. Nichols (I have heard) is the most learned printer of the present day. He may be a man of taste as well as learning; and I suppose that you would not want a gentleman usher to introduce you. He prints the Gentleman's Magazine, and may serve us if the others should decline; if not, give yourself no farther trouble about the matter. I may possibly envy authors who can afford to publish at their own expense, and in that case should write no more. But the mortification would not break my heart 2."

The first offer, however, was accepted. "I am glad for your sake," says Cowper to his friend, "that you succeeded in the first instance, and that the first trouble proved the last. Willing, too, to consider Johnson's readiness to accept a second volume of mine as an argument that at least he was no loser by the former, I collect from it some reasonable hope that the volume in question may not wrong him neither. My imagina2 Oct. 20, 1784.

tion tells me (for I know you interest yourself in the success of my productions) that your heart fluttered when you approached his door, and that it felt itself discharged of a burthen when you came out again 3."

And now, when the poem was in Johnson's hands, he mentioned it to Mr. Newton; not having done so sooner, he said, because almost to the last he had been doubtful whether he should ever bring it to a conclusion, working often in such distress of mind, as, while it spurred him to the work, at the same time threatened to disqualify him for it. To Mr. Unwin he said, "Mr. Newton will be surprised and, perhaps, not pleased; but I think he cannot complain, for he keeps his own authorly secrets without participating them with me. I do not think myself in the least injured by his reserve; neither should I, if he were to publish a whole library without favouring me with any previous notice of his intentions. In these cases it is no violation of the laws of friendship not to communicate, though there must be a friendship where the communication is made. But many reasons may concur in disposing a writer to keep his work secret, and none of them injurious to his friends. The influence of one I have felt myself, for which none of them would blame me—I mean the desire of surprising agreeably. And if I have denied myself this pleasure in your instance, it was only to give myself a greater, by eradicating from your mind any little weeds of suspicion that might still remain in it, that any man living is dearer to me than yourself. Had not this consideration forced up the lid of my strong-box like a lever, it would have 3 Nov. 1, 1784.