The Works of William Cowper

you, and give us not reason to say, like David's servant-"We know that it would have pleased thee more if all we had died, than this one, for whom thou art inconsolable." You have still Romney, and Carwardine, and Guy, and me, my poor Mary, and I know not how many beside; as many, I suppose, as ever had an opportunity of spending a day with you. He who has the most friends must necessarily lose the most, and he whose friends are numerous as yours may the better spare a part of them. It is a changing, transient scene: yet a little while, and this poor dream of life will be over with all of us. The living, and they who live unhappy, they are indeed subjects of sorrow. Adieu! my beloved friend,

Ever yours, W. C.

In Copeman's ear this truth let Echo tell,-
"Immortal bards like mortal pheasants well;"
And when his clerkship's out, I wish him herds
Of golden clients for his golden birds.

Our friends the Courtenays have never dined with us since their marriage, because we have never asked them; and we have never asked them, because poor Mrs. Unwin is not so equal to the task of providing for and entertaining company as before this last illness. But this is no objection to the arrival here of a bustard; rather it is a cause for which we shall be particularly glad to see the monster. It will be a handsome present to them. So let the bustard come, as the Lord Mayor of London said of the hare, when he was hunting-let her come, a' God's name: I am not afraid of her.

Adieu, my dear cousin and caterer. My eyes are terribly bad; else, I had much more to say to you.

Ever affectionately yours,

TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ.

W. C.

Weston, Feb. 5, 1793.

In this last revisal of my work (the Homer) I have made a number of small improvements, and am now more convinced than ever, having exercised a cooler judgment upon it than before I could, that the translation will make its way. There must * Private correspondence.

be time for the conquest of vehement and long-rooted prejudice; but, without much self-partiality, I believe, that the conquest will be made; and am certain that I should be of the same opinion, were the work another man's. I shall soon have finished the Odyssey, and when I have, will send the corrected copy of both to Johnson. Adieu! W. C.

TO LADY HESKETH.

Weston, Feb. 10, 1793,

My pens are all split, and my ink-glass is dry; Neither wit, cominon-sense, nor ideas have I. In vain has it been, that I have made several attempts to write, since I came from Sus sex; unless more comfortable days arrive than I have confidence to look for, there is an end of all writing with me. I have no spirits when Rose came, I was obliged to prepare for his coming by a nightly dose of laudanum-twelve drops suffice; but without them, I am devoured by melancholy.

A-propos of the Rose! His wife in her political notions is the exact counterpart of yourself-loyal in the extreme. Therefore, if you find her thus inclined, when you be come acquainted with her, you must not place her resemblance of yourself to the account of her admiration of you, for she is your likeness ready made. In fact, we are all of one mind about government matters, and notwithstanding your opinion, the Rose is himself a Whig, and I am a Whig, and you, my dear, are a Tory, and all the Tories now-a-days call all the Whigs republicans. How the deuce you came to be a Tory is best known to yourself: you have to answer for this novelty to the shades of your ances tors, who were always Whigs ever since we had any.

Weston, Feb. 17, 1793. My dear Friend, I have read the critique of my work in the Analytical Review, and am happy to have fallen into the hands of a critic, rigorous enough indeed, but a scholar, and a man of sense, and who does not delib erately intend me mischief. I am better pleased indeed that he censures some things than I should have been with unmixed commendation, for his censure (to use the new diplomatic term) will accredit his praises. In his particular remarks he is for the most part right, and I shall be the better for them; but in his general ones I think he asserts too largely, and more than he could prove. With respect to inversions in particular, I know that they do not abound.

LIFE OF COWPER.

long as himself; it cost him time and labor,
but at last he succeeded.

Mrs. Unwin and I, crossing a brook, saw
from the foot-bridge somewhat at the bot-
tom of the water which had the appearance
of a flower. Observing it attentively, we
found that it consisted of a circular assem-
blage of minnows; their heads all met in a
centre, and their tails, diverging at equal
distances, and being elevated above their
heads, gave them the appearance of a flower
half blown. One was longer than the rest,
and as often as a straggler came in sight, he
quitted his place to pursue him, and having
driven him away, he returned to it again,
and no other minnow offering to take it in
his absence. This we saw him do several
The object that had attached them
times.
all was a dead minnow, which they seemed
to be devouring.

Once they did, and I had Milton's example for it, not disapproved by Addison. But on 's remonstrance against them, I expunged the most, and in my new edition shall have fewer stil!. I know that they give dignity, and am sorry to part with them; but, to parody an old proverb, he who lives in the year ninety-three, must do as in the year ninety-three is done by others. The same remark I have to make on his censure of inharmonious lines. I know them to be much fewer than he asserts, and not more in number than I accounted indispensably necessary to a due variation of cadence. I have, however, now, in conformity with modern taste, (over much delicate in my mind,) given to a far greater number of them a flow as smooth as oil. A few I retain, and will, in compliment to my own judgment. He thinks me too faithful to After a very rainy day, I saw on one of the compound epithets in the introductory lines, He fears lest the flower borders what seemed a long hair, but and I know his reason. English reader should blame Homer, whom it had a waving, twining motion. Considerhe idolizes, though hardly more than I, for ing more nearly, I found it alive, and ensuch constant repetition. But them I shall dued with spontaneity, but could not disnot alter. They are necessary to a just rep-cover at the ends of it either head or tail, or In the affair of any distinction of parts. I carried it into resentation of the original. Outis,* I shall throw him flat on his back by the house, when the air of a warm room an unanswerable argument, which I shall dried and killed it presently. give in a note, and with which I am furnished by Mrs. Unwin. So much for hypercriticism, which has run away with all my paper. This critic, by the way is, know him by infallible indications.

TO THE REV. MR. HURDIS.

W. C.

Weston, Feb. 22, 1793.

My dear Sir,-My eyes, which have long
been inflamed, will hardly serve for Homer,
and oblige me to make all my letters short.
You have obliged me much, by sending me
so speedily the remainder of your notes.
have begun with them again, and find them,
as before, very much to the purpose. More
to the purpose they could not have been,
had you been poetry professor already. I
rejoice sincerely in the prospect you have of
that office, which, whatever may be your
own thoughts of the matter, I am sure you
will fill with great sufficiency. Would that
my interest and power to serve you were
greater! One string to my bow I have, and
one only, which shall not be idle for want
of my exertions. I thank you likewise for
your very entertaining notices and remarks
in the natural way. The hurry in which I
write would not suffer me to send you many
in return, had I many to send, but only two
or three present themselves.

I saw a frog
Frogs will feed on worms.
gathering into his gullet an earth-worm as

* A name given to Ulysses.

↑ Maty.

TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ.

W. C.

Weston, Feb. 24, 1793. Your letter (so full of kindness and so exactly in unison with my own feelings for you) should have had, as it deserved to have, an earlier answer, had I not been perpetually tortured with inflamed eyes, which are a sad hindrance to me in everything. But, to make amends, if I do not send you an early answer, I send you at least a speedy one, being obliged to write as fast as my pen can trot, that I may shorten the time of poring upon paper as much as possible. Homer too has been another hindrance, for always when I can see, which is only about two hours every morning, and not at all by candle-light, I devote myself to him, being in haste to send him a second time to the press, that nothing may stand in the way of Milton. By the way, where are my dear Tom's remarks, which I long to have, and must have soon, or they will come too late?

Oh, you rogue! what would you give to have such a dream about Milton as I had about a week since? I dreamed that, being in a house in the city, and with much company, looking towards the lower end of the room from the upper end of it, I descried a figure which I immediately knew to be Milton's. He was very gravely but very neatly attired in the fashion of his day, and had a countenance which filled me with those feel

ings that an affectionate child has for a beloved father, such, for instance, as Tom has for you. My first thought was wonder, where he could have been concealed so many years; my second, a transport of joy to find him still alive; my third, another transport to find myself in his company; and my fourth, a resolution to accost him. I did so, and he received me with a complacence in which I saw equal sweetness and dignity. I spoke of his Paradise Lost as every man must who is worthy to speak of it at all, and told him a long story of the manner in which it affected me when I first discovered it, being at that time a school-boy. He answered me by a smile, and a gentle inclination of his head. He then grasped my hand affectionately, and with a smile that charmed me, said, "Well, you for your part will do well also;" at last, recollecting his great age (for I understood him to be two hundred years old) I feared that I might fatigue him by too much talking, I took my leave, and he took his with an air of the most perfect good-breeding. His person, his features, his manner, were all so perfectly characteristic, that I am persuaded an apparition of him could not represent him more completely. This may be said to have been one of the dreams of Pindus, may it

not?*

How truly I rejoice that you have recov ered Guy! That man won my heart the moment I saw him: give my love to him, and tell him I am truly glad he is alive again.

There is much sweetness in those lines

from the sonneteer of Avon, and not a little in dear Tom's: an earnest, I trust, of good things to come!

and very busy. But I have not suffered all these evils at one and the same time. While the winter lasted I was miserable with a fever on my spirits; when the spring began to approach I was seized with an inflammation in my eyes, and ever since I have been able to use them, have been employed in giving more last touches to Homer, who is on the point of going to press again.

Though you are Tory, I believe, and I am Whig, our sentiments concerning the madcaps of France are much the same. They are a terrible race, and I have a horror both of them and their principles.* Tacitus is certainly living now, and the quotations you sent me can be nothing but extracts from some letters of his to yourself. W. C.

Yours, most sincerely,

We have already mentioned the interest excited in Cowper's mind by a son of Hayley's, a youth of not more than twelve years of age, and of most promising talents. At Cowper's request he addressed to him the Homer, which do honor to his taste and subjoined letter, containing criticisms on his acuteness. The poet's reply may also be regarded as a proof of his kind condescension and amiable sweetness of temper.

TO WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ.

Eartham, March 4, 1793. Honored King of Bards,-Since you deign to demand the observations of an humble and

inexperienced servant of yours, on a work of one who is so much his superior (as he is ever ready to serve you with all his might), behold what you demand! But let me deWith Mary's kind love, I must now con- sire you not to censure me for my unskilful clude myself,

My dear brother, ever yours, LIPPUS.

TO THE REV. WALTER BAGOT.
Weston, March 4, 1793.

My dear Friend,-Since I received your last I have been much indisposed, very blind,

* Whether this is a poetical or real dream of Cowper's we presume not to decide. It bears so strong a resemblance to Milton's vision of the Bishop of Winchester, (the celebrated Dr. Andrews,) as to suggest the probability of having been borrowed from that source. The passage is to be found in Milton's beautiful Latin elegy on the death of that prelate, and is thus translated by Cowper:

"While I that splendor, and the mingled shade
Of fruitful vines with wonder fixt survey'd,
At once, with looks, that beam'd celestial grace,
The seer of Winton stood before my face.
His snowy vesture's hem descending low
His golden sandals swept, and pure as snow
New-fallen shone the mitre on his brow.
Where'er he trod a tremulous sweet sound
Of gladness shook the flow'ry scene around:
Attendant angels clap their starry wings,
The trumpet shakes the sky, all ether rings,
Each chaunts his welcome,

Then night retired, and, chas'd by dawning day,
The visionary bliss pass'd all away:

I mourn'd my banish'd sleep with fond concern:
Frequent to me may dreams like this return."

and perhaps (as they will undoubtedly ap pear to you) ridiculous observations; but be so kind as to receive them as a mark of respectful affection from

Book.

Line.

Your obedient servant,

THOMAS HAYLEY.

184 I cannot reconcile myself to these 195 expressions, Ah cloth'd with impudence." &c., and Shameless wolf." and " Face of flint." "Dishonor'd foul," is, in my opinion, an uncleanly expression. 661 "Reel'd." I think makes it appear as if Olympus was drunk. "Kindler of the fires of Heaven." I think makes Jupiter appear too much like a lamplighter. These lines are, in my opinion. below the elevated genius of Mr. Cowper.

196

508

749

II.

317 to 319

TO MR. THOMAS HAYLEY.

Weston, March 14, 1793.

My dear little Critic,-I thank you heartily for your observations, on which I set a higher value, because they have instructed me as much, and have entertained me more, than all the other strictures of our public judges in these matters. Perhaps I am not much more pleased with shameless wolf, &c., than you. But what is to be done, my little man? Coarse as the expressions are, they are no more than equivalent to those of Homer. The invective of the ancients was never tempered with good manners, as your papa can tell you; and my business, you know, is not to be more polite than my author, but to represent him as closely as I can.

Dishonor'd foul I have wiped away, for the reason you give, which is a very just one, and the present reading is this,

Who had dared dishonor thus
The life itself, &c.

Your objection to kindler of the fires of heaven I had the good fortune to anticipate, and expunged the dirty ambiguity some time since, wondering not a little that I had ever

admitted it.

The fault you find with the two first verses of Nestor's speech discovers such a degree of just discernment that, but for your papa's assurance to the contrary, I must have suspected him as the author of that remark: much as I should have respected it, if it had been so, I value it, I assure you, my little friend, still more as yours. In the new edition the passage will be found thus altered:

Alas! great sorrow falls on Greece to-day! Priam, and Priam's sons, with all in TroyOh! how will they exult, and in their hearts Triumph, once hearing of this broil between The prime of Greece, in council and in arms!

Where the word reel suggests to you the idea of a drunken mountain, it performs the service to which I destined it. It is a bold metaphor; but justified by one of the sublimest passages in scripture, compared with the sublimity of which even that of Homer suf

fers humiliation.

It is God himself who, speaking, I think, by the prophet Isaiah, says,

"The earth shall reel to and fro like a drunkard."*

With equal boldness in the same scripture, the poetry of which was never equalled, mountains are said to skip, to break out into singing, and the fields to clap their hands. I intend, therefore, that my Olympus shall be still tipsy.

The accuracy of your last remark, in which you convicted me of a bull, delights me.

Isaiah xxiv. 20.

Weston, March 19, 1793. My dear Hayley,-I am so busy every morning before breakfast (my only opportu nity), strutting and stalking in Homeric stilts, that you ought to account it an instance of marvellous grace and favor, that I condescend to write even to you. Sometimes I am seriously almost crazed with the multiplicity of the matters before me, and the little or no time that I have for them; and sometimes I repose myself, after the fatigue of that distraction, on the pillow of despair; a pillow which has often served me in the time of need, and is become, by frequent use, if not very comfortable, at least convenient. So reposed, I laugh at the world, and say, "Yes, you may gape and expect both Homer and Milton from me, but I'll be hanged if ever you get them."

In Homer you must know I am advanced as far as the fifteenth book of the Iliad, leaving nothing behind me that can reasonably offend the most fastidious: and I design him soon as possible, for a reason wh ch any poet for public appearance in his new dress as may guess, if he will but thrust his hand into his pocket.

You forbid me to tantalize you with an invitation to Weston, and yet you invite me to Eartham! No! no! there is no such haprambled at all, I was under promise to all piness in store for me at present. Had I my dear mother's kindred to go to Norfolk, and they are dying to see me; but I have told them that die they must, for I cannot go; and ergo, as you will perceive, can go nowhere else.

Thanks for Mazarin's epitaph!* It is full *We have not been able to discover this epitaph, nor

does it appear that it was ever translated by Cowper.

Cardinal Mazarin was minister of state to Louis XIII.,

and during the minority of Louis XIV. The last mo ments of this great statesman are too edifying not to be recorded. To the ecclesiastic (Joly) who attended him, he said, "I am not satisfled with my state; I wish to feel a more profound sorrow for my sins. I am a great sin

of witty paradox, and is written with a force and severity which sufficiently bespeak the author. I account it an inestimable curiosity, and shall be happy when time shall serve, with your aid, to make a good translation of it. But that will be a stubborn business. Adieu! The clock strikes eight: and now for Homer.

W. C.

The two following letters bear an honorable testimony to his bookseller, Johnson, whom he had commissioned his friend, Mr. Rose, to consult respecting a second and revised edition of his Homeric version.

TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ.

Weston, March 27, 1793.

My dear Friend, I must send you a line of congratulation on the event of your transaction with Johnson, since you, I know, partake with me in the pleasure I receive from it. Few of my concerns have been so happily concluded. I am now satisfied with my bookseller, as I have substantial cause to be, and account myself in good hands; a circumstance as pleasant to me as any other part of my business; for I love dearly to be able to confide, with all my heart, in those with whom I am connected, of what kind soever the connexion may be.

The question of printing or not printing the alterations seems difficult to decide. If they are not printed, I shall perhaps disoblige | some purchasers of the first edition, and if they are, many others of them, perhaps a great majority, will never care about them. As far as I have gone, I have made a fair copy; and when I have finished the whole, will send them to Johnson, together with the interleaved volumes. He will see in a few minutes what it will be best to do, and by his judgment I shall be determined. The opinion to which I most incline is, that they ought to be printed separately, for they are many of them rather long, here and there a whole speech, or a whole simile, and the verbal ner. I have no hope but in the mercy of God." (Je suis un grand criminel, je n'ai d'esperance qu'en la misericorde divine.) At another time he besought his confessor to treat him like the lowest subject in the realm,

being convinced, he said, that there was but one gospel for the great, as well as for the little. (Qu'il n'y avait qu'un Evangile pour les grands, et pour les petits.)

His sufferings were very acute. You see," he observed

to those around him, "what infirmities and wretchedness the fortunes and dignities of this world come to." He repeated many times the Miserere, (Ps. li.) stretching forth his hands, then clasping them, and lifting up his

eyes to heaven, with all the marks of the most sincere devotion.

At midnight he exclaimed, "I am dying-my mind grows indistinct. I trust in Jesus Christ." (Je vais bientôt mourir, mon jugement se trouble, j'espère en Jesus Christ.) Afterwards, frequently repeating the sacred name of Jesus, he expired. (Se mettant en de voir de répéter aussi fréquemment le très-saint nom de Jesus, il expira.) Histoire du Card. Mazarin, par M. Aubery.

and lineal variations are so numerous, that, altogether, I apprehend, they will give a new air to the work, and I hope a much improved one.

I forgot to say in the proper place, that some notes, although but very few, I have added already; and may perhaps see here and there opportunity for a few more. But, notes being little wanted, especially by people at all conversant with classical literature, as most readers of Homer are, I am persuaded that were they numerous, they would be deemed an incumbrance. I shall write to Johnson soon, perhaps to-morrow, and then shall say the same thing to him.

In point of health, we continue much the same. Our united love, and many thanks for your prosperous negotiations, attend your self and whole family, and especially my lit tle namesake. Adieu!

TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.*

W. C.

Weston, March 29, 1793.

My dear Friend,-Your tidings concerning the slender pittance yet to come, are, as you observe, of the melancholy cast. Not being gifted by nature with the means of acquiring much, it is well, however, that she has given me a disposition to be contented with little. I have now been so many years habituated to small matters that I should probably find myself incommoded by greater; and may I but be enabled to shift, as I have been hitherto, unsatisfied wishes will never trouble me much. My pen has helped me somewhat; and, after some years' toil, I begin to reap the benefit. Had I begun sooner, perhaps I should have known fewer pecuniary distresses; or, who can say it is possible that I might not have succeeded so well. Fruit ripens only a short time before it rots; and man, in general, arrives not at maturity of mental powers at a much earlier period. I am now busied in preparing Homer for his second appearance. An author should consider himself as bound not to please himself, but the public; and as far as the good pleas ure of the public may be learned from the critics, I design to accommodate myself to it. The Latinisins, though employed by Milton, and numbered by Addison among the arts and expedients by which he has given dignity to his style, I shall render into plain English the rougher lines, though my reason for using them has never been proved a bad one, so far as I know, I shall make perfectly smooth: and shall give body and substance to all that is in any degree feeble and flimsy. when I have done all this, and more, if the critics still grumble, I shall say the very deuce is in them. Yet, that they will grumble I • Private correspondence.

And

« Previous Continue »

Books

The Works of William Cowper: His Life, Letters, and Poems. Now First ...