nance, with every turn of which (in his own words) he had been long familiar, he apprehended that Cowper was perhaps in as fit a state to be informed of the event as he ever could be sitting down therefore to the book, and turning over the leaves to resume his reading, he told him that his poor old friend had breathed her last. He heard this, "though not entirely without emotion, yet with no more than was compatible," says Mr. Johnson, "with his being read to by his kinsinan, who had soon the satisfaction of . seeing him as composed as before." This, however, was no sane composure. A few hours after Mrs. Unwin had breathed her last, he said he was sure that she was not actually dead, but would come to life again in the grave, and then undergo the horrors of suffocation on his account, for he was the occasion of all that she or any other creature upon earth ever did or could suffer. He then seemed to wish to see her. Mr. Johnson accompanied him to the room; at first he fancied that he saw her stir, but having looked about a moment at her countenance, changed now from what it was when he had seen it in the morning, and settled into the placidity of death, he flung himself to the other side of the room with a passionate expression of feeling, the first that he had uttered, or that had been perceived in him since the last return of his malady at Weston. But the effect for the time was what his kinsman had desired. He became wonderfully calm: as soon as they got down stairs, he asked for a glass of wine; and from that time he never mentioned her name, nor spoke of her again. It was not known whether her own wish would have been to be buried with her fathers at Ely, or with her husband at Huntingdon. Mr. and Mrs. Powley decided that she should be interred where she had died, and they came from Yorkshire to the funeral. The time appointed was concealed from Cowper, that he might be spared the agitation which it was likely to produce, and the ceremony. therefore was performed at night by torch-light. Hayley was full of hope that a favorable change would be produced in Cowper by Mrs. Unwin's long-desired release. "I have not ceased," said he to Mr. Johnson, “wo 66 pray fervently for his restoration, both in prose and rhyme." His devotional feelings, indeed, frequently clothed themselves in verse; and on this occasion he sent to East Dereham a sonnet, which, he says, darted into his head as he reclined on the pillow. Eternal Fountain of all mental power! In nightly prayer before thy throne I bend; The early part of the year was passed by Cowper in the same state of utter dejection; the only relief which he seemed to experience was in listening to works of fiction; these still retained their charm. But when his mind reverted to its own dreams, nothing could be more appalling than the imaginations which possessed him. Lady Hesketh had remarked that his former letters from Dereham, distressing as they were, were written in his usual free and distinct hand; in the only one which he wrote to her this year the character of the writing was changed; it was equally or even more distinct, but much smaller, and every letter appears to have been separately formed. It contained only these few lines,16 undated and unsigned :— "To you once more, and too well I know why, I am under cruel necessity of writing. Every line that I have ever sent you, I have believed, under the influence of infinite despair, the last that I should ever send. This I know to be so. Whatever be your condition, either now or hereafter, it is heavenly, compared with mine, even at this moment. It is unnecessary to add that this comes from the most miserable of beings, whom a terrible minute made such." The post-mark is May 15, 97. As the spring advanced, he was persuaded to resume his walks. The house at Dereham was not found less suitable for him, because it fronted the market-place, which was also the high road; that circumstance was by no means displeasing to him; and there was a way into the fields without entering the street. Thus also he could get to an open carriage, for an airing before breakfast, which he was enabled to bear for a few weeks, "owing," Mr. Johnson says, "to the good effect of ass's milk upon his bodily health. This," he adds, "was undoubtedly the period of his last deplorable affliction when the person of Cowper made the nearest approaches to the appearance it had exhibited before his illness. His countenance, from having been extremely thin and of a yellowish hue, had recovered much of its former fulness and ruddy complexion. His limbs were also less emaciated, and his posture more erect; but the oppression on his spirits remained the same. Under these circumstances it was thought advisable to omit the visit to Mundsley this year, and take the utmost advantage of the rides about Dereham. Eartham had become too expensive an abode for Hayley. Upon declining an invitation to visit his unhappy friend in Norfolk, he says to Mr. Johnson, "I have boldly plunged into brick and mortar, and, with the prudence of a poet, began to build, as the first step in a plan of economy. To explain this riddle, I must inform you, that as I find the sea essential to my health, and to that of the dear sculptor, the (his son,)—I am building a little marine hermitage, in our favorite village of Felpham. I mean to reside in it seven or eight months in the year, letting this lovely spot as a summer residence to some friends, in whom I can confide for a proper care of my books and pictures only treasures I am anxious about. It has occurred to me, that it might be possible for us to render this place conducive to our dear Cowper's recovery, and to the reestablishment of Lady Hesketh's health, if you all pitched your tents on tis salutary and pleasant hill, during the finer parts of the year, retreating to Derehamn in the winter. Meditate on this friendly hint, my dear Johnny, which I have also suggested to Lady Hesketh. We may all think of it at our leisure, as my new ouilding will not be habitable till next suminer; but it is pleasant to form even distant projects on the basis of benevolence and friendship." In the adjustment of such a plan, he should exult, he said, rather to sacrifice than promote his own pecuniary interest. But upon proposing it to Lady Hesketh, he found that she thought Clifton suited her better than any other place would do; "and I imagine," he says, "from the expressions of her letter, that she does not intend to reassume any share in the domestic superintendence of our beloved Cowper, till his mind is perfectly reestablished." Indeed, she was herself an invalid; her health had not recovered, and probably never fully recovered the effects of continued anxiety during her last residence at Weston. Moreover, if it had been advisable to remove Cowper any where, Weston undoubtedly would have been his own choice, and therefore the place of all others to be preferred. A whimsical notion now darted (like the sonnet) into Hayley's head; but if he was shot on his pillow, it must have been at a very early hour, for off he set to Chichester, to communicate it to his friend Guy, a medical practitioner in that city, and he arrived there before Guy "He had recently received," he says,18" from Cowper a few of the most gloomy and pathetic lines that ever flowed from the pen of depression;" and Guy gave him great pleasure by saying he thought his idea might produce a striking effect on the mind of their dejected friend. was up. The result of this "idea" Hayley has thus related in his Life of Cowper : "A depression of spirits, which suspended the studies of a writer so eminently endeared to the public, was considered by men of piety and learning as a national misfortune; and several individuals of this description, though personally unknown to Cowper, wrote to him, in the benevolent 17 Hayley was a very early riser; and one of his "incoherent transactions" is said to have been a custom which he had, when he had any guests in the house, of going into their rooms as soon as he had risen, and throwing their windows open. 18 To his son, June 22, 1797. hope that expressions of friendly praise, from persons who could be influenced only by the most laudable motives in bestowing it, might reanimate the dejected spirit of a poet not sufficiently conscious of the public service that his writings had rendered to his country, and of that universal esteem which they had so deservedly secured to their author. "I cannot think myself authorized to mention the names of all who did honor to Cowper and to themselves on this occasion; but I trust the Bishop of Landaff will forgive me if my sentiments of personal regard towards him induce me to take an affectionate liberty with his name, and to gratify myself by recording, in these pages, a very pleasing example of his liberal attention to the interests of humanity. "He endeavored evangelically to cheer and invigorate the mind of Cowper; but the depression of that mind was the effect of bodily disorder so obstinate, that it received not the slightest relief from what, in a season of corporeal health, would have afforded the most animated gratification to this interesting invalid. "The pressure of his malady had now made him utterly deaf to the most honorable praise." In this account Hayley has taken no merit to himself for the curious plan which he had brought to bear. His part in it is explained by the two following letters from Lord Thurlow to Lord Kenyon; they are characteristic of their writer, and of that kindness 19 which his rough exterior concealed from those only who did not know him well. MY DEAR LORD, Dulwich, Nov. 22, 1797. I I have been pressed by one mad poet to ask of you for another, a favor which savors of the malady of both. have waited for an opportunity of doing it verbally; but this gout at this time of the year makes it uncertain when I can see you. Cowper's distemper persuades him that he is unmeritable 19 The late Lord Kenyon preserved them for that reason; and to the présent lord, the readers, as well as the author of this biography, are obliged for a communication which so curiously fills up the omission in Hayley's half-told tale. |