they are long, they both embarrass the sense, and 'Hoc nemus, hunc,' inquit, 'frondoso vertice collem In this instance, the first that occurred, it is graceful. I have not time to seek for more, nor room to insert them. But your own observation I believe will confirm my opinion. Yours ever, W. C. nish yourself with a better taste, if you know where to find it.' pass We are glad that you are safe at home again. Could we see at one glance of the eye what is ing every day upon all the roads in the kingdom, how many are terrified and hurt, how many plundered and abused, we should indeed find reason enough to be thankful for journeys performed in safety, and for deliverance from dangers we are not perhaps even permitted to see. When in some of the high southern latitudes and in a dark tempestuous night, a flash of lightning discovered to Captain Cook a vessel, which glanced along close by his side, and which, but for the lightning he must have run foul of, both the danger, and the transient light that showed it, were undoubtedly designed to convey to him this wholesome instruction, that a particular Providence attended him, and that he was not only preserved from evils, of which he had notice, but from many more of which he had no information, or even the least suspicion. What unlikely contingencies may neverTO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. theless take place! How improbable that two ships should dash against each other, in the midst of the MY DEAR FRIEND, May 27, 1782. vast Pacific Ocean, and that steering contrary RATHER ashamed of having been at all dejected courses, from parts of the world so immensely disby the censure of the Critical Reviewers, who cer- tant from each other, they should yet move so tainly could not read without prejudice a book re- exactly in a line as to clash, fill, and go to the botplete with opinions and doctrines to which they tom, in a sea where all the ships in the world might can not subscribe, I have at present no little occa- be so dispersed as that none should see another! sion to keep a strict guard upon my vanity, lest it Yet this must have happened but for the remarkashould be too much flattered by the following ble interference, which he has recorded. The same eulogium. I send it you for the reasons I gave Providence indeed might as easily have conducted when I imparted to you some other anecdotes of a them so wide of each other, that they should never similar kind, while we were together. Our inter- have met at all, but then this lesson would have ests in the success of this same volume are so been lost; at least, the heroic voyager would have closely united, that you must share with me in the encompassed the globe without having had occapraise or blame that attends it; and sympathizing sion to relate an incident that so naturally sugwith me under the burthen of injurious treatment, have a right to enjoy with me the cordials I now and then receive, as I happen to meet with more favourable and candid judges. A merchant, a friend of ours, (you will soon guess him) sent my Poems to one of the first philosophers, one of the most eminent literary characters, as well as one of the most important in the political world, that the present age can boast of. Now perhaps your conjuring faculties are puzzled, and you begin to ask 'who, where, and what is he? speak out, for I am all impatience.' I will not say a word more, the letter in which he returned his thanks for the present shall speak for him.* gests it. I am no more delighted with the season than you are. The absence of the sun, which has graced the spring with much less of his presence than he vouchsafed to the winter, has a very uncomfortable effect upon my frame. I feel an invincible aversion to employment, which I am yet constrained to fly to as my only remedy against something worse. If I do nothing, I am dejected; if I do any thing, I am weary; and that weariness is best described by the word lassitude, which of all weariness in the world is the most oppressive But enough of myself and the weather. The blow we have struck in the West Indies We may now treat the critics as the archbishop will, I suppose, be decisive, at least for the present of Toledo treated Gil Blas, when he found fault year, and so far as that part of our possessions is with one of his sermons.-His grace gave him a concerned in the present conflict. But the newskick, and said, 'Be gone for a jackanapes, and fur- writers, and their correspondents, disgust me and make me sick. One victory, after such a long seHere Cowper transcribed the letter written from Passy, ries of adverse occurrences, has filled them with by the American ambassador Franklin, in praise of his book. self-conceit, and impertinent boasting; and while Rodney is almost accounted a Methodist for as-confess a weakness that I should not confess to all), cribing his success to Providence, men who have I feel myself not a little influenced by a tender rerenounced all dependence upon such a friend, gard to my reputation here, even among my neighwithout whose assistance nothing can be done, bours at Olney. Here are watch-makers, who threaten to drive the French out of the sea, laugh themselves are wits, and who at present perhaps at the Spaniards, sneer at the Dutch, and are to think me one. Here is a carpenter and a baker, carry the world before them. Our enemies are and not to mention others, here is your idol Mr. apt to brag, and we deride them for it; but we can whose smile is fame. All these read the sing as loud as they can, in the same key, and no Monthly Review, and all these will set me down doubt wherever our papers go, shall be derided in for a dunce, if those terrible critics should show our turn. An Englishman's true glory should be, them the example. But oh! wherever else I am to do his business well, and say little about it; accounted dull, dear Mr. Griffith, let me pass for but he disgraces himself when he puffs his prow-a genius at Olney. ess, as if he had finished his task, when he has but just begun it. Yours, W. C. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. MY DEAR FRIEND, June 12, 1782. EVERY extraordinary occurrence in our lives affords us an opportunity to learn, if we will, something more of our own hearts and tempers, than we were before aware of. It is easy to promise ourselves beforehand, that our conduct shall be wise, or moderate, or resolute, on any given occasion. But when that occasion occurs, we do not always find it easy to make good the promise: such a difference there is between theory and practice. Perhaps this is no new remark; but it is not a whit the worse for being old, if it be true. We are sorry for little William's illness. It is however the privilege of infancy to recover almost immediately what it has lost by sickness. We are sorry too for Mr.'s dangerous condition. But he that is well prepared for the great journey can not enter on it too soon for himself, though his friends will weep at his departure. MY DEAR FRIEND, Yours, W. C. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. July 16, 1782. THOUGH Some people pretend to be clever in the way of prophetical forecast, and to have a peculiar talent of sagacity, by which they can divine the meaning of a providential dispensation, while its consequences are yet in embryo-I do not. There is at this time to be found I suppose in the cabinet, and in both houses, a greater assemblage of able men, both as speakers and counsellors, than ever were contemporary in the same land. A man not accustomed to trace the workings of Provi Before I had published, I said to myself-you and I, Mr. Cowper, will not concern ourselves much about what the critics may say of our book. But having once sent my wits for a venture, I soon became anxious about the issue, and found that I could not be satisfied with a warm place dence, as recorded in Scripture, and that has given in my own good graces, unless my friends were no attention to this particular subject, while empleased with me as much as I pleased myself. ployed in the study of profane history, would asMeeting with their approbation, I began to feel sert boldly, that it is a token for good, that much the workings of ambition. It is well, said I, that may be expected from them, and that the country, my friends are pleased, but friends are sometimes though heavily afflicted, is not to be despaired of, partial, and mine, I have reason to think, are not distinguished as she is by so many characters of altogether free from bias. Methinks I should like the highest class. Thus he would say, and I do to hear a stranger or two speak well of me. I was not deny, that the event might justify his skill in presently gratified by the approbation of the Lon- prognostics. God works by means, and in a case don Magazine, and the Gentleman's, particularly of great national perplexity and distress, wisdom by that of the former, and by the plaudit of Dr. and political ability seem to be the only natural Franklin. By the way, magazines are publica- means of deliverance. But a mind more religiously tions we have but little respect for, till we ourselves inclined, and perhaps a little tinctured with meare chronicled in them, and then they assume an lancholy, might, with equal probability of success, importance in our esteem which before we could hazard a conjecture directly opposite -Alas! what not allow them. But the Monthly Review, the is the wisdom of man, especially when he trusts most formidable of all my judges, is still behind. in it as the only God of his confidence?—When I What will that critical Rhadamanthus say, when consider the general contempt that is poured upon my shivering genius shall appear before him? all things sacred, the profusion, the dissipation, Still he keeps me in hot water, and I must wait the knavish cunning of some, the rapacity of another month for his award. Alas! when I wish others, and the impenitence of all; I am rather infor a favourable sentence from that quarter (to clined to fear that God, who honours himself by bringing human glory to shame, and by disap-| who is a creature the most easily comforted of any pointing the expectations of those whose trust is in the world! in creatures, has signalized the present day as a We are as happy in lady Austen, and she in us, day of much human sufficiency and strength, has as ever-having a lively imagination, and being brought together from all quarters of the land the passionately desirous of consolidating all into one most illustrious men to be found in it, only that he family (for she has taken her leave of London), she may prove the vanity of idols, and that when a has just sprung a project which serves at least to great empire is falling, and he has pronounced a amuse us, and make us laugh--it is to hire Mr. sentence of ruin against it, the inhabitants, be Small's house, on the top of Clifton-hill, which is they weak or strong, wise or foolish, must fall with large, commodious, and handsome, will hold us it. I am rather confirmed in this persuasion by conveniently, and any friends who may occasionobserving that these luminaries of the state had ally favour us with a visit the house is furnished, no sooner fixed themselves in the political heaven, but, if it can be hired without the furniture, will than the fall of the brightest of them shook all the let for a trifle-your sentiments, if you please, upon rest. The arch of their power was no sooner this demarche! struck than the key-stone slipped out of its place; I send you my last frank-our best love attend those that were closest in connexion with it fol- you individually, and all together. I give you joy lowed, and the whole building, new as it is, seems of a happy change in the season, and myself also. to be already a ruin. If a man should hold this I have filled four sides in less time than two would language, who could convict him. of absurdity? have cost me a week ago such is the effect of The marquis of Rockingham is minister-all the sunshine upon such a butterfly as I am. world rejoices, anticipating success in war and a glorious peace.-The marquis of Rockingham is dead-all the world is afflicted, and relapses into its former despondence. What does this prove, but that the marquis was their Almighty, and that now he is gone, they know no other? But MY DEAR FRIEND, let us wait a little, they will find another-Perhaps the duke of Portland, or perhaps the unpopular whom they now represent as a devil, may obtain that honour. Thus God is forgot; and when he is, his judgments are generally his remembrancers. Yours, W. C. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. Aug. 3, 1782. ENTERTAINING some hope that Mr. Newton's next letter would furnish me with the means of satisfying your inquiry on the subject of Dr. Johnson's opinion, I have till now delayed my answer to your last; but the information is not yet come, Mr. Newton having intermitted a week more than How shall I comfort you upon the subject of usual, since his last writing. When I receive it, your present distress? Pardon me that I find my- favourable or not, it shall be communicated to you; self obliged to smile at it, because who but your- but I am not over sanguine in my expectations self would be distressed upon such an occasion? from that quarter. Very learned and very critical You have behaved politely, and like a gentleman; heads are hard to please. He may perhaps treat you have hospitably offered your house to a stran- me with lenity for the sake of the subject and deger, who could not, in your neighbourhood at least, sign, but the composition I think will hardly eshave been comfortably accommodated any where cape his censure. Though all doctors may not else. He, by neither refusing nor accepting an be of the same mind, there is one doctor at least, offer that did him too much honour, has disgraced whom I have lately discovered, my professed adhimself, but not you. I think for the future you mirer. He too, like Johnson, was with difficulty must be cautious of laying yourself open to a stran- persuaded to read, having an aversion to all poetger, and never again expose yourself to incivilities ry, except the Night Thoughts, which on a cerfrom an archdeacon you are not acquainted with. tain occasion, when being confined on board a Though I did not mention it, I felt with you ship he had no other employment, he got by what you suffered by the loss of Miss heart. He was however prevailed upon, and I was only silent because I could minister no con- read me several times over; so that if my volume solation to you on such a subject, but what I had sailed with him, instead of Dr. Young's, 1 knew your mind to be already stored with. In-perhaps might have occupied that shelf in his deed, the application of comfort in such cases is a memory which he then allotted to the Doctor. nice business, and perhaps when best managed It is a sort of paradox, but it is true; we are might as well be let alone. I remember reading never more in danger than when we think ourmany years ago a long treatise on the subject of selves most secure, nor in reality more secure than consolation, written in French; the author's name when we seem to be most in danger. Both sides I forgot, but I wrote these words in the margin- of this apparent contradiction were lately verified Special consolation! at least for a Frenchman, in my experience-Passing from the green-house to the barn, I saw three kittens (for we have so learned, ingenious, good-natured, pious friend of many in our retinue) looking with fixed attention ours, who sometimes visits us, and whom we visit. on something, which lay on the threshold of a ed last week, has put into my hands three vol. door nailed up. I took but little notice of them at umes of French poetry, composed by Madame first, but a loud hiss engaged me to attend more Guion-a quietist say you, and a fanatic, I will closely, when behold-a viper! the largest that I have nothing to do with her 'Tis very well, remember to have seen, rearing itself, darting its you are welcome to have nothing to do with her, forked tongue, and ejaculating the aforesaid hiss but in the mean time her verse is the only French at the nose of a kitten almost in contact with his verse I ever read that I found agreeable; there is lips. I ran into the hall for a hoe with a long a neatness in it equal to that which we applaud handle, with which I intended to assail him, and with so much reason in the compositions of Prior. returning in a few seconds missed him; he was I have translated several of them, and shall progone, and I feared had escaped me. Still how-ceed in my translations, till I have filled a Lillipuever the kitten sat watching immoveably upon the tian paper-book I happen to have by me, which same spot. I concluded therefore that, sliding when filled, I shall present to Mr. Bull. He is between the door and the threshold, he had found her passionate admirer, rode twenty miles to see his way out of the garden into the yard. I went her picture in the house of a stranger, which stranround immediately, and there found him in close ger politely insisted on his acceptance of it, and it conversation with the old cat, whose curiosity be- now hangs over his chimney. It is a striking poring excited by so novel an appearance, inclined her trait, too characteristic not to be a strong resemto pat his head repeatedly with her fore foot, with blance, and, were it encompassed with a glory, inher claws however sheathed, and not in anger, stead of being dressed in a nun's hood, might pass but in the way of philosophic inquiry and exami- for the face of an angel. nation. To prevent her falling a victim to so lauIdable an exercise of her talents, I interposed a moment with the hoe, and performed upon him an act of decapitation, which though not immediately mortal, proved so in the end. Had he slid into the passages, where it is dark, or had he, when in the yard, met with no interruption from the cat, and secreted himself in any of the outhouses, it is hardly possible but that some of the family must have been bitten; he might have been trodden upon without being perceived, and have slipped away before the sufferer could have distinguished what foe had wounded him. Three years ago we discovered one in the same place, which the barber slew with a trowel. Yours, W. C. TO LADY AUSTEN. To watch the storms and hear the sky Our proposed removal to Mr. Small's was, as you suppose, a jest, or rather a joco-serious matter. We never looked upon it as entirely feasible, yet we saw in it something so like practicability, that we did not esteem it altogether unworthy of our attention. It was one of those projects which MY DEAR SISTER, people of lively imaginations play with, and ad- You see my beginning-I do not know but in mire for a few days, and then break in pieces. time I may proceed even to the printing of halfLady Austen returned on Thursday from Lon- penny ballads-Excuse the coarseness of my padon, where she spent the last fortnight, and whi-per-I wasted such a quantity before I could acther she was called by an unexpected opportunity complish any thing legible, that I could not afford to dispose of the remainder of her lease. She has finer. I intend to employ an ingenious mechanic therefore no longer any connexion with the great of the town to make me a longer case; for you city, and no house but at Olney. Her abode is to be at the vicarage, where she has hired as much room as she wants, which she will embellish with ner own furniture, and which she will occupy as We wait with impatience for the departure of Loon as the minister's wife has produced another this unseasonable flood. We think of you, and child, which is expected to make its entry in Oc- talk of you, but we can do no more, till the waters tober. subside. I do not think our correspondence Mr Bull, a dissenting minister of Newport, a should drop because we are within a mile of each may observe that my lines turn up their tails like Dutch mastiffs, so difficult do I find it to make the two halves exactly coincide with each other. other. It is but an imaginary approximation, the perfectly at liberty to deal with them as you please. flood having in reality as effectually parted us, as Auctore tantùm anonymo imprimantur; and if the British Channel rolled between us. when printed, send me a copy. Yours, my dear sister, with Mrs. Unwin's best love. Aug. 12, 1782. W. C. TO THE REV. WILLIAM BULL. Oct. 27, 1782. I congratulate you on the discharge of your duty and your conscience, by the pains you have taken for the relief of the prisoners.-You proceeded wisely, yet courageously, and deserved better success. Your labours however will be remembered else where, when you shall be forgotten here; and if the poor folks at Chelmsford should never receive the benefit of them, you will yourself receive it in Mon aimable et très cher Ami, heaven. It is pity that men of fortune should be Ir is not in the power of chaises or chariots to determined to acts of beneficence sometimes by carry you where my affections will not follow you; popular whim, or prejudice, and sometimes by if I heard that you were gone to finish your days motives still more unworthy. The liberal subin the moon, I should not love you the less; but scription raised in behalf of the widows of the seashould contemplate the place of your abode, as men lost in the Royal George was an instance of often as it appeared in the heavens, and say the former. At least a plain, short, and sensible Farewell, my friend, for ever! Lost, but not for- letter in the newspaper convinced me at the time, gotten! Live happy in thy lantern, and smoke that it was an unnecessary and injudicious collecthe remainder of thy pipes in peace! Thou art tion: and the difficulty you found in effectuating rid of earth, at least of all its cares, and so far can your benevolent intentions on this occasion, conI rejoice in thy removal; and as to the cares that strains me to think that had it been an affair of are to be found in the moon, I am resolved to sup- more notoriety than merely to furnish a few poor pose them lighter than those below-heavier they fellows with a little fuel to preserve their extremican hardly be. ties from the frost, you would have succeeded betMadame Guion is finished, but not quite tran- ter. Men really pious delight in doing good by scribed. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. stealth. But nothing less than an ostentatious display of bounty will satisfy mankind in general. I feel myself disposed to furnish you with an opportunity to shine in secret. We do what we can. But that can is little. You have rich friends, MY DEAR FRIEND, Nov. 4, 1782. are eloquent on all occasions, and know how to You are too modest; though your last consisted be pathetic on a proper one. The winter will be of three sides only, I am certainly a letter in your severely felt at Olney by many, whose sobriety, debt. It is possible that this present writing may industry, and honesty, recommend them to chariprove as short. Yet, short as it may be, it will be table notice: and we think we could tell such pera letter, and make me creditor, and you my debtor. sons as Mr. or Mr. half a dozen A letter indeed ought not to be estimated by the tales of distress, that would find their way into length of it, but by the contents, and how can the hearts as feeling as theirs. You will do as you contents of any letter be more agreeable than your see good; and we in the mean time shall remain last? convinced, that you will do your best. Lady Austen will no doubt do something; for she has great sensibility and compassion. W. C. Yours, my dear Unwin, You tell me that John Gilpin made you laugh tears, and that the ladies at court are delighted with my poems. Much good may they do them! May they become as wise as the writer wishes them, and they will be much happier than he! I know there is in the book that wisdom which TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. cometh from above, because it was from above that I received it. May they receive it too! For MY DEAR WILLIAM, Nov. 18, 1782. whether they drink it out of the cistern, or whe- On the part of the poor, and on our part, be ther it falls upon them immediately from the pleased to make acknowledgments, such as the clouds, as it did on me, it is all one. It is the occasion calls for, to our beneficent friend Mr. water of life, which whosoever drinketh shall I call him ours, because having experi thirst no more. As to the famous horseman enced his kindness to myself in a former instance, above-mentioned, he and his feats are an inex- and in the present his disinterested readiness to haustible source of merriment. At least we find succour the distressed, my ambition will be satis him so, and seldom meet without refreshing our-fied with nothing less. He may depend upon the selves with the recollection of them. You are strictest secrecy; no creature shall hear him men |