TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. Weston-Underwood, Dec. 2, 1788. MY DEAR FRIEND, TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. MY DEAR SIR, The Lodge, Jan. 19, 1789. I TOLD you lately that I had an ambition to introduce to your acquaintance my valuable friend, Mr. Rose. He is now before you. You will find him a person of genteel manners and agreeable yet a good local memory, and can recollect, by conversation. As to his other virtues and good qualities, which are many, and not often found in men of his years, I consign them over to your own discernment, perfectly sure that none will escape give you joy of each other, and remain, my dear old friend, most truly yours, W. C. you. TO ROBERT SMITH, ESQ. Weston-Underwood, Dec. 20, 1788. MY DEAR SIR, the help of a tree or a stile, what you said on that particular spot. For this reason I purpose, when the summer is come, to walk with a book in my pocket; what I read at my fireside I forget, but what I read under a hedge, or at the side of a pond, that pond and that hedge will always bring to my remembrance; and this is a sort of memoria technica, which I would recommend to you if I did not know that you have no occasion for it. I am reading Sir John Hawkins, and still hold the same opinion of his book, as when you were here. There are in it, undoubtedly, some awkwardnesses of phrase, and, which is worse, here and there some unequivocal indications of a vanity not easily pardonable in a man of his years; but on the whole I find it amusing, and to me at least, to whom every thing that has passed in the literary world within these five-and-twenty years is new, sufficiently replete with information. Mr. Throckmorton told me about three days since, that it was lately recommended to him by a sensible man, as a book that would give him great insight into the history of modern literature, and modern men of letters, a commendation which I MRS. UNWIN is in tolerable health, and adds her warmest thanks to mine for your favour, and for your obliging inquiries. My own health is better than it has been for many years. Long time I had a stomach that would digest nothing, and now nothing disagrees with it; an amend ment for which I am, under God, indebted to the daily use of soluble tartar, which I have never omitted these two years. I am still, as you may suppose, occupied in my long labour. The Iliad has nearly received its last polish. And I have advanced in a rough copy as far as to the ninth really think it merits. Fifty years hence, perbook of the Odyssey. My friends are some of haps, the world will feel itself obliged to him. them in haste to see the work printed, and my answer to them is-"I do nothing else, and this I do day and night-it must in time be finished." My thoughts, however, are not engaged to Homer only. I can not be so much a poet as not to feel greatly for the King, the Queen, and the country. My speculations on these subjects are indeed melancholy, for no such tragedy has befallen in my day. We are forbidden to trust in man; I will not therefore say I trust in Mr Pitt: -but in his counsels, under the blessing of Providence, the remedy is, I believe, to be found, if a remedy there be. His integrity, firmness, and sagacity, are the only human means that seem adequate to the great emergence. You say nothing of your own health, of which I should have been happy to have heard favourably. May you long enjoy the best. Neither Mrs. Unwin nor myself have a sincerer, or a warmer wish, than for your felicity. I am, my dear sir, TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. W. C. MY DEAR SIR, The Lodge, Jan. 24, 1789. WE have heard from my cousin in Norfolkstreet; she reached home safely, and in good time. An observation suggests itself, which, though I have but little time for observation making, I must allow myself time to mention. Accidents, as we call them, generally occur when there seems least reason to expect them; if a friend of ours travels far in different roads, and at an unfavourable season, we are reasonably alarmed for the safety of one in whom we take so much interest; yet how seldom do we hear a tragical account of such a journey! It is, on the contrary, at home, in our yard or garden, perhaps in our parlour, that disaster finds us; in any place, in short, where we seem perfectly out of the reach of danger. The lesson inculcated by such a procedure on the part of Providence towards us seems to be that of perpetual dependence. W. C. Having preached this sermon, I must hasten to know not: but imagine that any time after the a close; you know that I am not idle, nor can I afford to be so. I would gladly spend more time with you, but by some means or other this day has hitherto proved a day of hindrance and confusion. W. C. TO THE REV. WALTER BAGOT. MY DEAR FRIEND, month of June you will be sure to find her with us, which I mention, knowing that to meet you will add a relish to all the pleasures she can find at Weston. Nothing is more certain than that when I wrote the line, When I wrote those lines on the Queen's visit, I thought I had performed well; but it belongs to me, as I have told you before, to dislike whatever I write when it has been written a month. The performance was therefore sinking in my esteem, Weston, Jan. 29, 1789. when your approbation of it, arriving in good time, I SHALL be a better, at least a more frequent buoyed it up again. It will now keep possession correspondent, when I have done with Homer. I of the place it holds in my good opinion, because am not forgetful of any letters that I owe, and it has been favoured with yours; and a copy will least of all forgetful of my debts in that way to certainly be at your service whenever you choose you; on the contrary, I live in a continual state to have one. of self-reproach for not writing more punctually; but the old Grecian, whom I charge myself never to neglect, lest I should never finish him, has at present a voice that seems to drown all other demands, and many to which I could listen with I had not the least recollection of that very simore pleasure than even to his Os rotundum. Imilar one, which you quote from Hawkins Brown. am now in the eleventh book of the Odyssey, con- It convinces me that critics (and none more than versing with the dead. Invoke the Muse in my behalf, that I may roll the stone of Sisyphus with some success. To do it as Homer has done it is, I suppose, in our verse and language, impossible; but I will hope not to labour altogether to as little purpose as Sisyphus himself did. God made the country, and man made the town, Warton, in his notes on Milton's minor poems), have often charged authors with borrowing what they drew from their own fund. Brown was an entertaining companion when he had drunk his bottle, but not before; this proved a snare to him, and he would sometimes drink too much; but I Though I meddle little with politics, and can know not that he was chargeable with any other find but little leisure to do so, the present state of irregularities. He had those among his intimates things unavoidably engages a share of my atten- who would not have been such had he been othertion. But as they say, Archimedes, when Syra-wise viciously inclined; the Duncombes, in particuse was taken, was found busied in the solution cular, father and son, who were of unblemished of a problem, so come what may, I shall be found morals. W. C. translating Homer. Sincerely yours, W. C. TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. MY DEAR SIR, TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. MY DEAR FRIEND, The Lodge, June 5, 1789. I AM going to give you a deal of trouble, but London folks must be content to be troubled by The Lodge, May 20, 1789. country folks; for in London only can our strange FINDING myself, between twelve and one, at the necessities be supplied. You must buy for me, end of the seventeenth book of the Odyssey, I give if you please, a cuckoo clock; and now I will tell the interval between the present moment and the you where they are sold, which, Londoner as you time of walking, to you. If I write letters before are, it is possible you may not know. They are I sit down to Homer, I feel my spirits too flat for poetry; and too flat for letter writing if I address myself to Homer first; but the last I choose as the least evil, because my friends will pardon my dulness, but the public will not. sold, I am informed, at more houses than one, in that narrow part of Holborn which leads into Broad St. Giles. It seems they are well going clocks, and cheap, which are the two best recommendations of any clock. They are made in Ger I had been some days uneasy on your account, many, and such numbers of them are annually when yours arrived. We should have rejoiced to imported, that they are become even a considerable nave seen you, would your engagements have per- article of commerce. mitted: but in the autumn I hope, if not before, we I return you many thanks for Boswell's Tour. shall have the pleasure to receive you. At what I read it to Mrs. Unwin after supper, and we find time we may expect Lady Hesketh, at present I it amusing. There is much trash in it, as there TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. AMICO MIO, must always be in every narrative that relates indiscriminately all that passed. But now and then the Doctor speaks like an oracle, and that makes The Lodge, June 20, 1789. amends for all. Sir John was a coxcomb, and I AM truly sorry that it must be so long before Boswell is not less a coxcomb, though of another we can have an opportunity to meet. My cousin, kind. I fancy Johnson made coxcombs of all his in her last letter but one, inspired me with other friends, and they in return made him a coxcomb; expectations, expressing a purpose, if the matter for with reverence be it spoken, such he certainly could be so contrived, of bringing you with her: was, and, flattered as he was, he was sure to be I was willing to believe that you had consulted together on the subject, and found it feasible. A Thanks for your invitation to London, but un-month was formerly a trifle in my account, but at less London can come to me, I fear we shall never my present age I give it all its importance, and meet. I was sure that you would love my friend, grudge that so many months should yet pass, in when you should once be well acquainted with which I have not even a glimpse of those I love, him; and equally sure that he would take kindly and of whom, the course of nature considered, I to you. must ere long take leave forever-but I shall live till August. So. Now for Homer. W. C. TO THE REV. WALTER BAGOT. Many thanks for the cuckoo, which arrived perfectly safe, and goes well, to the amusement and amazement of all who hear it. Hannah lies awake to hear it, and I am not sure that we have not others in the house that admire his music as much as she. Having read both Hawkins and Boswell, I now think myself almost as much a master of Johnson's character as if I had known him personally, and can not but regret that our bards of other times found no such biographers as these. They have both been ridiculed, and the wits have had their laugh; but such an history of Milton or Shakspeare, as they have given of Johnson-O, how desirable! MY DEAR FRIEND, Weston, June 16, 1789. You will naturally suppose that the letter in which you announced your marriage occasioned me some concern, though in my answer I had the wisdom to conceal it. The account you gave me of the object of your choice was such as left me at liberty to form conjectures not very comfortable to myself, if my friendship for you were indeed sincere. I have since however been sufficiently consoled. Your brother Chester has informed me, that you have married not only one of the most agreeable, but one of the most accomplished women in the kingdom. It is an old maxim, that it is better to exceed expectation than to disappoint it, and with this maxim in your view it was, no doubt, that you dwelt only on circumstances of disJuly 18, 1789. advantage, and would not treat me with a recital MANY thanks, my dear madam, for your extract of others which abundantly overweigh them. I now from George's letter. I retain but little Italian, congratulate not you only, but myself, and truly yet that little was so forcibly mustered by the conrejoice that my friend has chosen for his fellow-sciousness that I was myself the subject, that I traveller through the remaining stages of his jour-presently became master of it. I have always said ney, a companion who will do honour to his dis- that George is a poet, and I am never in his comcernment, and make his way, so far as it can de-pany but I discover proofs of it; and the delicate pend on a wife to do so, pleasant to the last. My verses on the Queen's visit to London either have been printed, or soon will be, in the World. The finishing to which you objected I have altered, and have substituted two new stanzas instead of it. Two others also I have struck out, another critic having objected to them. I think I am a very tractable sort of a poet. Most of my fraternity would as soon shorten the noses of their children because they were said to be too long, as thus dock their compositions in compliance with the opinion of others. I beg that when my life shall be written hereafter, my authorship's ductability of temper may not be forgotten! I am, my dear friend, ever yours, W. C. TO MRS. THROCKMORTON. address by which he has managed his complimentary mention of me, convinces me of it still more than ever. Here are a thousand poets of us, whe have impudence enough to write for the public, but amongst the modest men who are by diffidence restrained from such an enterprise are those who would eclipse us all. I wish that George would make the experiment; I would bind on his laurels with my own hand. Your gardener has gone after his wife, but hav ing neglected to take his lyre, alias fiddle, with him, has not yet brought home his Eurydice. Your clock in the hall has stopped, and (strange to tell!) it stopped at the sight of the watch-maker. For he only looked at it, and it has been motionles ever since. Mr. Gregson is gone, and the Hall is and a great instance of good fortune I account i a desolation. Pray don't think any place pleasant in such a world as this, to have expected such a inat you may find in your rambles, that we may pleasure thrice without being once disappointed. see you the sooner. Your aviary is all in good Add to this wonder as soon as you can by making health. I pass it every day, and often inquire at yourself of the party. the lattice; the inhabitants of it send their duty, and wish for your return. I took notice of the inscription on your seal, and had we an artist here capable of furnishing me with another, you should read on mine, "Encore une lettre." Adieu, W. C. TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. W.C. TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. MY DEAR FRIEND, Weston, Aug. 8, 1789. COME When you will, or when you can, you can not come at a wrong time, but we shall expect you on the day mentioned. If you have any book, that you think will make pleasant evening reading, bring it with you. I The Lodge, July 23, 1789. now read Mrs. Piozzi's Travels to the ladies after You do well, my dear sir, to improve your op- supper, and shall probably have finished them beportunity; to speak in the rural phrase, this is fore we shall have the pleasure of seeing you. It your sowing time, and the sheaves you look for can is the fashion, I understand, to condemn them. never be yours unless you make that use of it. But we who make books ourselves are more merThe colour of our whole life is generally such as ciful to book-makers. I would that every fastidithe three or four first years, in which we are ourous judge of authors were himself obliged to write; own masters, make it. Then it is that we may there goes more to the composition of a volume be said to shape our own destiny, and to treasure than many critics imagine. I have often wondered up for ourselves a series of future successes or dis- that the same poet who wrote the Dunciad should appointments. Had I employed my time as wise- have written these lines, ly as you, in a situation very similar to yours, I had never been a poet perhaps, but I might by this time have acquired a character of more importance in society; and a situation in which my friends would have been better pleased to see me. But three years misspent in an attorney's office were almost of course followed by several more I scratch this between dinner and tea; a time equally misspent in the Temple, and the conse- when I can not write much without disordering quence has been, as the Italian epitaph says, “Sto my noddle, and bringing a flush into my face. qui."-The only use I can make of myself now, You will excuse me therefore if, through respect at least the best, is to serve in terrorem to others, for the two important considerations of health and when occasion may happen to offer, that they may beauty, I conclude myself, escape (so far as my admonitions can have any weight with them) my folly and my fate. When you feel yourself tempted to relax a little of the strictness of your present discipline, and to indulge in amusement incompatible with your future interests, think on your friend at Weston. Having said this, I shall next with my whole heart invite you hither, and assure you that I look The mercy I to others show, That mercy show to me. Alas! for Pope, if the mercy he showed to others was the measure of the mercy he received! he was the less pardonable too, because experienced in all the difficulties of composition. Ever yours, W. C. TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. MY DEAR FRIEND, Weston, Sept. 24, 1789. You left us exactly at the wrong time. Had you staid till now, you would have had the pleaforward to approaching August with great pleasure of hearing even my cousin say-" I am cold." sure, because it promises me your company. Af--And the still greater pleasure of being warm ter a little time (which we shall wish longer) spent yourself; for I have had a fire in the study ever with us, you will return invigorated to your stu- since you went. It is the fault of our summers, dies, and pursue them with the more advantage. In the mean time you have lost little, in point of season, by being confined to London. Incessant lains, and meadows under water, have given to the summer the air of winter, and the country has been deprived of half its beauties. that they are hardly ever warm or cold enough. Were they warmer, we should not want a fire; and were they colder, we should have one. I have twice seen and conversed with Mr. J. He is witty, intelligent, and agreeable beyond the common measure of men who are so. But it is It is time to tell you that we are well, and often the constant effect of a spirit of party to make make you our subject. This is the third meeting those hateful to each other, who are truly amiable that my cousin and we have had in this country; 'in themselves. Beau sends his love; he was melancholy the the rebellion of the first pair, and as happy as it is whole day after your departure. W. C. possible they should be in the present life. Most sincerely yours, W. C. TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. MY DEAR FRIEND, TO THE REV. WALTER BAGOT. MY DEAR WALTER, Weston, Oct. 4, 1789. THE hamper is come, and come safe: and the I KNOW that you are too reasonable a man to contents I can affirm on my own knowledge are expect any thing like punctuality of correspondexcellent. It chanced that another hamper and a box came by the same conveyance, all which I un- who is a doer also of many other things at the same ence from a translator of Homer, especially from one packed and expounded in the hall; my cousin time; for I labour hard not only to acquire a little sitting, mean time, on the stairs, spectatress of the fame for myself, but to win it also for others, men business. We diverted ourselves with imagining of whom I know nothing, not even their names, the manner in which Homer would have described who send me their poetry, that by translating it the scene. Detailed in his circumstantial way, it out of prose into verse, would have furnished materials for a paragraph poetry than it was. Having heard all this, you I may make it more like of considerable length in an Odyssey. will feel yourself not only inclined to pardon my long silence, but to pity me also for the cause of it. You may if you please believe likewise, for it is true, that I have a faculty of remembering my friends even when I do not write to them, and of loving them not one jot the less, though I leave them to starve for want of a letter from me. And now I think you have an apology both as to style, matter, and manner, altogether unexcepAnd so on. tionable. The straw-stuff'd hamper with his ruthless steel Of the fair mother of his friend-the Rose. I should rejoice to be the hero of such a tale in the hands of Homer. You will remember, I trust, that when the state of your health or spirits calls for rural walks and fresh air, you have always a retreat at Weston. We are all well, all love you, down to the very dog; and shall be glad to hear that you have exchanged langour for alacrity, and the debility that you mentioned for indefatigable vigour. Why is the winter like a backbiter? Because Solomon says that a backbiter separates between chief friends, and so does the winter; to this dirty season it is owing, that I see nothing of the valuable Chesters, whom indeed I see less at all times than serves at all to content me. I hear of them indeed occasionally from my neighbours at the Hall, but even of that comfort I have lately enjoyed less than usual, Mr. Throckmorton having Mr. Throckmorton has made me a handsome been hindered by his first fit of the gout from his present; Villoison's edition of the Iliad, elegantly usual visits to Chichely. The gout however bound by Edwards. If I live long enough, by has not prevented his making me a handsome the contributions of my friends I shall once more be possessed of a library. Adieu, W. C. TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. MY DEAR FRIEND, present of a folio edition of the Iliad, published about a year since at Venice, by a literato, who calls himself Villoison. It is possible that you have seen it, and that if you have it not yourself, it has at least found its way into Lord Bagot's library. If neither should be the case, when I Weston, Dec. 18, 1789. write next (for sooner or later I shall certainly THE present appears to me a wonderful period write to you again if I live) I will send you some in the history of mankind. That nations so long pretty stories out of his Prolegomena, which will contentedly slaves should on a sudden become ena- make your hair stand on end, as mine has stood moured of liberty, and understand, as suddenly, their own natural right to it, feeling themselves at the same time inspired with resolution to assert it, seems difficult to account for from natural causes. With respect to the final issue of all this, I can only say, that if, having discovered the value of liberty, they should next discover the value of peace, and lastly the value of the word of God, My paper mourns for the death of Lord Cowthey will be happier than they ever were since per, my valuable cousin and much my benefactor. on end already, they so horribly affect, in point of authenticity, the credit of the works of the immortal Homer. Wishing you and Mrs. Bagot all the happiness that a new year can possibly bring with it, I re main with Mrs. Unwin's best respects, yours, my dear friend, with all sincerity, W. C. |