it; the increase of their vociferation occasioned an | fine estate, a large conservatory, a hot-house rich increase of his, and his in return acted as a stimu- as a West-Indian garden, things of consequence; lus upon theirs; neither side entertained a thought visit them with pleasure, and muse upon them of giving up the contest, which became continually with ten times more. I am pleased with a frame more interesting to our ears, during the whole of four lights, doubtful whether the few pines it visit. The birds however survived it, and so did contains will ever be worth a farthing; amuse mywe. They perhaps flatter themselves they gained self with a greenhouse which lord Bute's gardener a complete victory, but I believe Mr. -could could take upon his back, and walk away with; and when I have paid it the accustomed visit, and watered it, and given it air, I say to myself' This is not mine, 'tis a plaything lent me for the present; I must leave it soon.' W. C. have killed them both in another hour. W. C. TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. DEAR SIR, May 3, 1780. You indulge me in such a variety of subjects, and allow me such a latitude of excursion in this scribbling employment, that I have no excuse for MY DEAR FRIEND, Olney, May 6, 1780. silence. I am much obliged to you for swallowing I am much obliged to you for your speedy answer such boluses as I send you, for the sake of my to my queries. I know less of the law than a gilding, and verily believe that I am the only man country attorney, yet sometimes I think I have alalive, from whom they would be welcome to a pa- most as much business. My former connexion late like yours. I wish I could make them more with the profession has got wind; and though I splendid than they are, more alluring to the eye, earnestly profess, and protest, and proclaim it at least, if not more pleasing to the taste; but my abroad that I know nothing of the matter, they leaf gold is tarnished, and has received such a tinge can not be persuaded to believe, that a head once from the vapours that are ever brooding over my endued with a legal periwig can ever be deficient mind, that I think it no small proof of your par- in those natural endowments it is supposed to tiality to me, that you will read my letters. I am cover. I have had the good fortune to be once or not fond of long-winded metaphors; I have always twice in the right, which, added to the cheapness observed, that they halt at the latter end of their of a gratuitous counsel, has advanced my credit to progress, and so do mine. I deal much in ink in- a degree I never expected to attain in the capacity deed, but not such ink as is employed by poets, of a lawyer. Indeed, if two of the wisest in the and writers of essays. Mine is a harmless fluid, science of jurisprudence may give opposite opinions and guilty of no deceptions, but such as may pre- on the same point, which does not unfrequently vail without the least injury to the person imposed happen, it seems to be a matter of indifference on. I draw mountains, valleys, woods, and streams, whether a man answers by rule or at a venture. and ducks, and dab-chicks. I admire them my- He that stumbles upon the right side of the quesself, and Mrs. Unwin admires them; and her tion is just as useful to his client as he that arpraise, and my praise put together, are fame enough rives at the same end by regular approaches, and for me. O! I could spend whole days and moon- is conducted to the mark he aims at by the greatest light nights in feeding upon a lovely prospect! My eyes drink the rivers as they flow. If every human being upon earth could think for one quarThese violent attacks of a distemper so often ter of an hour as I have done for many years, there fatal, are very alarming to all who esteem and remight perhaps be many miserable men among spect the chancellor as he deserves. A life of conthem, but not an unawakened one could be found, finement, and of anxious attention to important from the Arctic to the Antarctic circle. At pre-objects, where the habit is bilious to such a terrible sent, the difference between them and me is greatly degree, threatens to be but a short one: and I wish to their advantage. I delight in baubles, and he may not be made a text for men of reflection to know them to be so: for rested in, and viewed with- moralize upon, affording a conspicuous instance of out a reference to their auther, what is the earth, the transient and fading nature of all human acwhat are the planets, what is the sun itself but a complishments and attainments. bauble? Better for a man never to have seen them, or to see them with the eyes of a brute, stupid and unconscious of what he beholds, than not to be able to say, 'The Maker of all these wonders is my friend! Their eyes have never been opened, to see that they are trifles; mine have been, and MY DEAR FRIEND, will be till they are closed for ever. They think a| authorities. Yours affectionately, W. C. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. May 8, 1780. My scribbling humour has of late been entirely absorbed in the passion for landscape drawing. It it is a most amusing art, and like every other art, requires much practice and attention. Nil sine multo Vita labore dedit mortalibus. I am now reading, and have read three volumes of Hume's History, one of which is engrossed entirely by that subject. There I see reason to alter my opinion, and the seeining resemblance has disappeared upon a more particular information Excellence is providentially placed beyond the Charles succeeded to a long train of arbitrary prinreach of indolence, that success may be the reward ces, whose subjects had tamely acquiesced in the of industry, and that idleness may be punished despotism of their masters, till their privileges were with obscurity and disgrace. So long as I am all forgot. He did but tread in their steps, and pleased with an employment, I am capable of un- exemplify the principles in which he had been wearied application, because my feelings are all brought up, when he oppressed his people. But of the intense kind. I never received a little plea- just at that time, unhappily for the monarch, the sure from any thing in my life; if I am delighted, subject began to see, and to see that he had a right it is in the extreme. The unhappy consequence to property and freedom. This marks a sufficient of this temperature is, that my attachment to any difference between the disputes of that day and occupation seldom outlives the novelty of it. That the present. But there was another main cause nerve of my imagination, that feels the touch of of that rebellion, which at this time does not opeany particular amusement, twangs under the rate at all. The king was devoted to the hierarenergy of the pressure with so much vehemence, chy; his that it soon becomes sensible of weariness and fa- bear it. tigue. Hence I draw an unfavourable prognostic, and expect that I shall shortly be constrained to look out for something else. Then perhaps I may string the harp again, and be able to comply with your demand. TO MRS. COWPER. subjects were puritans, and would not Every circumstance of ecclesiastical order and discipline was an abomination to them, and in his esteem an indispensable duty. And though at last he was obliged to give up many things, he would not abolish episcopacy, and till that were done his concessions could have no conNow for the visit you propose to pay us, and ciliating effect. These two concurring causes propose not to pay us; the hope of which plays were indeed sufficient to set three kingdoms in a upon your paper, like a jack-o-lantern upon the flame. But they subsist not now, nor any other, ceiling. This is no mean simile, for Virgil, (you I hope, notwithstanding the bustle made by the remember) uses it. 'Tis here, 'tis there, it vanishes, patriots, equal to the production of such terrible it returns, it dazzles you, a cloud interposes, and it events. Yours, my dear friend, W. C. is gone. However just the comparison, I hope you will contrive to spoil it, and that your final determination will be to come. As to the masons you expect, bring them with you-bring brick, bring mortar, bring every thing that would oppose itself to your journey-all shall be welcome. I May 10, 1780. have a greenhouse that is too small, come and en- I Do not write to comfort you: that office is not large it; build me a pinery; repair the garden- likely to be well performed by one who has no wall, that has great need of your assistance; do comfort for himself; nor to comply with an imany thing; you can not do too much; so far from pertinent ceremony, which in general might well thinking you and your train troublesome, we shall be spared upon such occasions: but because I would rejoice to see you, upon these or upon any other not seem indifferent to the concerns of those I terms you can propose. But to be serious-you have so much reason to esteem and love. If I did will do well to consider that a long summer is be- not sorrow for your brother's death, I should exfore you that the party will not have such ano- pect that nobody would for mine; when I knew ther opportunity to meet this great while; that him, he was much beloved, and I doubt not conyou may finish your masonry long enough before finued to be so. To live and die together is the winter, though you should not begin this month, lot of a few happy families, who hardly know what but that you can not always find your brother and a separation means, and one sepulchre serves them sister Powley at Olney. These, and some other all; but the ashes of our kindred are dispersed inconsiderations, such as the desire we have to see deed. Whether the American gulf has swallowyou, and the pleasure we expect from seeing you ed up any other of my relations, I know not; it has all together, may, and I think, ought to overcome made many mourners. MY DEAR COUSIN, your scruples. Believe me, my dear cousin, though after a long From a general recollection of lord Clarendon's silence which perhaps nothing less than the preHistory of the Rebellion, I thought (and I remem-sent concern could have prevailed with me to inber I told you so) that there was a striking resem- terrupt, as much as ever, blance between that period and the present. But Your affectionate kinsman, W. C. TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. praise dearly, especially from the judicious, and those who have so much delicacy themselves as not MY DEAR FRIEND, May 10, 1780. to offend mine in giving it. But then, I found If authors could have lived to adjust and authen- this consequence attending, or likely to attend the ticate their own text, a commentator would have eulogium you bestowed-if my friend thought me been an useless creature. For instance-if Dr. witty before, he shall think me ten times more witBentley had found, or opined that he had found, ty hereafter-where I joked once, I will joke five the word tube, where it seemed to present itself to times, and for one sensible remark, I will send him you, and had judged the subject worthy of his cri- a dozen. Now this foolish vanity would have tical acumen, he would either have justified the spoiled me quite, and would have made me as discorrupt reading, or have substituted some inven- gusting a letter-writer as Pope, who seems to have tion of his own, in defence of which he would thought that unless a sentence was well turned, have exerted all his polemical abilities, and have and every period pointed with some conceit, it was quarreled with half the literati in Europe. Then not worth the carriage. Accordingly, he is to me, suppose the writer himself, as in the present case, except in very few instances, the most disagrecato interpose with a gentle whisper, thus-'If ble maker of epistles that ever I met with. I was you look again, doctor, you will perceive that what willing, therefore, to wait till the impression your appears to you to be tube, is neither more nor less commendation had made upon the foolish part of than the simple monosyllable ink, but I wrote it in me was worn off, that I might scribble away as great haste, and the want of sufficient precision usual, and write my uppermost thoughts, and those in the character has occasioned your mistake: you only. case. will be especially satisfied, when you see the sense You are better skilled in ecclesiastical law than elucidated by the explanation.'-But I question I am. Mrs. P. desires me to inform her, whether whether the doctor would quit his ground, or allow a parson can be obliged to take an apprentice. For any author to be a competent judge in his own some of her husband's opposers at D, threatThe world, however, would acquiesce im- en to clap one upon him. Now I think it would mediately, and vote the critic useless. |be rather hard, if clergymen, who are not allowed James Andrews, who is my Michael Angelo, to exercise any handicraft whatever, should be pays me many compliments on my success in the subject to such an imposition. If Mr. P. was a art of drawing, but I have not yet the vanity to cordwainer, or a breeches-maker, all the week, and think myself qualified to furnish your apartment. a preacher only on Sundays, it would seem reaIf I should ever attain to the degree of self-opinion sonable enough, in that case, that he should take requisite to such an undertaking, I shall labour at it with pleasure. I can only say, though I hope not with the affected modesty of the above-mentioned Dr. Bentley, who said the same thing, Me quoque dicunt Vatem pastores. Sed non Ego credulus illis. A crow, rook, or raven, has built a nest in one of the young elm-trees, at the side of Mrs. Aspray's orchard. In the violent storm that blew yesterday morning, I saw it agitated to a degree that seem ed to threaten its immediate destruction, and versified the following thoughts upon the occasion.* W. C. an apprentice if he chose it. But even then, in my poor judgment, he ought to be left to his option. If they mean by an apprentice, a pupil, whom they will oblige him to hew into a parson, and after chipping away the block that hides the minister within, to qualify him to stand erect in a pulpit-that indeed is another consideration-But still we live in a free country, and I can not bring myself even to suspect that an English divine can possibly be liable to such compulsion. Ask your uncle, however, for he is wiser in these things than either of us. I thank you for your two inscriptions, and like' the last the best; the thought is just and finebut the two last lines are sadly damaged by the TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. monkish jingle of peperit and reperit. I have not yet translated them, nor do I promise to do it, MY DEAR FRIEND, June 8, 1780. though at some idle hour perhaps I may. In reIt is possible I might have indulged myself in turn, I send you a translation of a simile in the the pleasure of writing to you, without waiting for Paradise Lost. Not having that poem at hand, a letter from you, but for a reason which you will I can not refer you to the book and page, but you not easily guess. Your mother communicated to may hunt for it, if you think it worth your while. me the satisfaction you expressed in my corres--It begins pondence, that you thought me entertaining and clever, and so forth: now you must know, I love ⚫ Cowper's Fable of the Raven concluded this letter. 'So when, from mountain tops, the dusky clouds For the translation of this simile, see Cowper's Poems. If you spy any fault in my Latin, tell me, for I bring an odium on the profession they make, that am sometimes in doubt; but, as I told you when will not soon be forgotten. Neither is it possible you was here, I have not a Latin book in the for a quiet, inoffensive man, to discover, on a sudworld to consult, or correct a mistake by; and den, that his zeal has carried him into such comsome years have passed since I was a school-boy. pany, without being to the last degree shocked at his imprudence. Their religion was an honourAn English Versification of a Thought that popped into able mantle, like that of Elijah; but the majority my Head two Months since. wore cloaks of Guy Fawkes's time, and meant nothing so little as what they pretended. W. C. Sweet stream!' &c. Now this is not so exclusively applicable to a maiden, as to be the sole property of your sister Shuttleworth. If you look at Mrs. Unwin, you will see that she has not lost her right to this just praise by marrying you. Your mother sends her love to all and mine comes jogging along by the side of it. Yours, W. C. TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. REVEREND AND DEAR WILLIAM, THE affairs of kingdoms, and the concerns of individuals, are variegated alike with the checkerwork of joy and sorrow. The news of a great acquisition in America has succeeded to terrible tumults in London; and the beams of prosperity are now playing upon the smoke of that conflagration which so lately terrified the whole land. These sudden changes, which are matter of every man's observation, and may therefore always be reasonably expected, serve to hold up the chin of despondency above water, and preserve mankind in general from the sin and misery of accounting DEAR SIR, June 12, 1780. We accept it as an effort of your friendship, that you could prevail with yourself, in a time of such terror and distress, to send us repeated accounts of yours and Mrs. Newton's welfare; you supposed, with reason enough, that we should be apprehensive for your safety, situated as you were, apparently, within the reach of so much danger. existence a burden not to be endured-an evil we We rejoice that you have escaped at all, and that, should be sure to encounter, if we were not warexcept the anxiety which you must have felt, both ranted to look for a bright reverse of our most affor yourselves and others, you have suffered noflictive experiences. The Spaniards were sick of thing upon this dreadful occasion. A metropolis in the war at the very commencement of it; and I flames, and a nation in ruins, are subjects of conhope that, by this time, the French themselves templation for such a mind as yours as will leave a lasting impression behind them. It is well that begin to find themselves a little indisposed, if not the design died in the execution, and will be bu- desirous of peace, which that restless and medried, I hope never to rise again, in the ashes of ding temper of theirs is incapable of desiring for its own sake. But is it true, that this detestable its own combustion. There is a melancholy pleasure in looking back upon such a scene, arising plot was an egg laid in France, and hatched in from a comparison of possibilities with facts; the London, under the influence of French corrupenormous bulk of the intended mischief with the tion?-Nam te scire, deos quoniam propius con. abortive and partial accomplishment of it; much ting is, oportet. The offspring has the features was done, more indeed than could have been supposed practicable in a well-regulated city, not unfurnished with a military force for its protection. But surprise and astonishment seem at first to have struck every nerve of the police with a palsy;| and to have disarmed government of all its powers. of such a parent, and yet, without the clearest proof of the fact, I would not willingly charge upon a civilized nation what perhaps the most barbarous would abhor the thought of. I no sooner saw the surmise however in the paper, than I immediately began to write Latin verses upon the occasion. An odd effect,' you will say, 'of such I congratulate you upon the wisdom that with- a circumstance:'-but an effect, nevertheless, that held you from entering yourself a member of the whatever has, at any time, moved my passions, Protestant association. Your friends who did so whether pleasantly or otherwise, has always had have reason enough to regret their doing it, even upon me: were I to express what I feel upon such though they should never be called upon. Inno-occasions in prose, it would be verbose, inflated, and disgusting. I therefore have recourse to cent as they are, and they who know them can as a suitable vehicle for the most vehement not doubt of their being perfectly so, it is likely to expressions my thoughts suggest to me. What I have written, I did not write so much for the comfort of the English, as for the mortification of the Vide Poems, verse, French. You will immediately perceive there- doubt but I shall like it. I am pretty much in the fore that I have been labouring in vain, and that garden at this season of the year, so read but litthis bouncing explosion is likely to spend itself in tle. In summer-time I am as giddy-headed as a the air. For I have no means of circulating what boy, and can settle to nothing. Winter condenses follows, through all the French territories: and me, and makes me lumpish, and sober; and then unless that or something like it, can be done, my I can read all day long. indignation will be entirely fruitless. Tell me how I can convey it into Sartine's pocket, or who will lay it upon his desk for me. But read it first, and unless you think it pointed enough to sting the Gaul to the quick, burn it. For the same reasons, I have no need of the landscapes at present; when I want them I will renew my application, and repeat the description, but it will hardly be before October. Before I rose this morning, I composed the three following stanzas; I send them because I like In seditionem horrendam, corruptelis Gallicis, ut fertur, them pretty well myself; and if you should not, Londini nuper exortam. Perfida, crudelis, victa et lymphata furore, Posse tamen nostra nos superare manu. you must accept this handsome compliment as an amends for their deficiencies. You may print the lines, if you judge them worth it.* I have only time to add love, &c., and my two initials. W. C. TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. I have lately exercised my ingenuity in conMY DEAR FRIEND, June 23, 1780. triving an exercise for yours, and have composed a YOUR reflections upon the state of London, the riddle, which, if it does not make you laugh before sins and enormities of that great city, while you you have solved it, will probably do it afterwards. had a distant view of it from Greenwich, seem to I would transcribe it now, but am really so fatigued have been prophetic of the heavy stroke that fell with writing, that unless I knew you had a quinsy, upon it just after. Man often prophesies without and that a fit of laughter might possibly save your life, I could not prevail with myself to do it. What could you possibly mean, slender as you are, by sallying out upon your two walking sticks at two in the morning, into the midst of such a tumult? We admire your prowess, but can not commend your prudence. Our love attends you all, collectively and individually. Yours, W. C. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. MY DEAR FRIEND, June 22, 1780. A WORD or two in answer to two or three questions of yours, which I have hitherto taken no notice of. I am not in a scribbling mood, and shall therefore make no excursions to amuse either myself or you. The needful will be as much as I can manage at present-the playful must wait for another opportunity. I thank you for your offer of Robertson; but I have more reading upon my hands at this present writing than I shall get rid of in a twelve-month; and this moment recollect that I have seen it al ready. He is an author that I admire much; with one exception, that I think his style is too laboured. Hume, as an historian, pleases me more. I have just read enough of the Biogrophia Britannica to say, that I have tasted it, and have no knowing it; a spirit speaks by him which is not his own, though he does not at that time suspect that he is under the influence of any other. Did he foresee what is always foreseen by him who dictates what he supposes to be his own, he would suffer by anticipation, as well as by consequence; and wish perhaps as ardently for the happy igno rance, to which he is at present so much indebted, as some have foolishly and inconsiderately done for a knowledge that would be but another name for misery. And why have I said all this? especially to you, who have hitherto said it to me-not because I had the least desire of informing a wiser man than myself, but because the observation was naturally that letter, though not the last, happened to be suggested by the recollection of your letter, and of mine to nothing that resembles it more, than to uppermost in my mind. I can compare this mind a board that is under the carpenter's plane (I mean while I am writing to you,) the shavings are my uppermost thoughts; after a few strokes of the tool, it acquires a new surface; this again, upon a repetition of his task, he takes off, and a new surface still succeeds-whether the shavings of the present day will be worth your acceptance, I know not, I am unfortunately made neither of cedar nor of mahogany; but Truncus ficulnus, inutile Verses on the burning of Lord Mansfield's Library, &c. |