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I am aware of, will neither of them escape your is a strong resemblance between the two pieces in notice. But where there is much discernment, point of matter, and sometimes the very same exthere is generally much candour; and I commit pressions are to be met with, yet I soon recollected myself into your lordship's hands with the less that, on such a theme, a striking coincidence of anxiety, being well acquainted with yours.

If my first visit, after so long an interval, should prove neither a troublesome, nor a dull one, but especially, if not altogether an unprofitable one, omne tuli punctum.

I have the honour to be, though with very different impressions of some subjects, yet with the same sentiments of affection and esteem as ever, your lordship's faithful, and most obedient, humble servant, W. C.

TO THE REV. J. NEWTON. MY DEAR FRIEND,

Feb. 1782.

both might happen without a wonder. I doubt not that it is the production of an honest man, it carries with it an air of sincerity and zeal, that is not easily counterfeited. But though I can sec no reason why kings should not sometimes hear of their faults, as well as other men, I think I see many good ones why they should not be reproved so publicly. It can hardly be done with that respect which is due to their office, on the part of the author, or without encouraging a spirit of unmannerly censure in his readers. His majesty too perhaps might answer-my own personal feelings and offences I am ready to confess; but were I to follow your advice, and cashier the profligate from my service, where must I seek men of faith, I ENCLOSE Johnson's letter upon the subject of and true christian piety, qualified by nature and the Preface, and would send you my reply to it, by education to succeed them? Business must be if I had kept a copy. This however was the pur- done, men of business alone can do it, and good port of it. That Mr. whom I described as you men are rarely found under that description. described him to me, had made a similar objection, When Nathan reproved David, he did not embut that being willing to hope, that two or three ploy a herald, or accompany his charge with the pages of sensible matter, well expressed, might sound of the trumpet; nor can I think the writer possibly go down, though of a religious cast, I of this sermon quite justifiable in exposing the was resolved to believe him mistaken, and to pay king's faults in the sight of the people. no regard to it. That his judgment, however, Your answer respecting Ætna is quite satisfacwho by his occupation is bound to understand what will promote the sale of a book, and what will hinder it, seemed to deserve more attention. That therefore, according to his own offer written on a small slip of paper now lost, I should be obliged to him if he would state his difficulties to you; adding, that I need not inform him, who is so well acquainted with you, that he would find you easy to be persuaded to sacrifice, if necessary, what you had written, to the interests of the book. I find he has had an interview with you upon the occasion, and your behaviour has verified my prediction. What course he determines upon I do not know, nor am I at all anxious about it. It is impossible for me however to be so insensible of your kindness in writing the preface, as not to be desirous of defying all contingencies rather than entertain a wish to suppress it. It will do me honour in the eyes of those whose good opinion is indeed an honour, and if it hurts me in the estimation of others, I can not help it; the fault is neither yours nor mine, but theirs. If a minister's is a more splendid character than a poet's, and I think nobody that understands their value can hesitate in deciding that question, then undoubtedly the advantage of having our names united in the same volume is all on my side.

tory, and gives me much pleasure. I hate altering, though I never refuse the task when propriety seems to enjoin it; and an alteration in this instance, if I am not mistaken, would have been singularly difficult. Indeed, when a piece has been finished two or three years, and an author finds occasion to amend, or make an addition to it, it is not easy to fall upon the very vein from which he drew his ideas in the first instance; but either a different turn of thought, or expression, will betray the patch, and convince a reader of discernment that it has been cobbled and varnished.

Our love to you both, and to the young Euphrosyne, the old lady of that name being long since dead; if she pleases she shall fill her vacant office, and be my muse hereafter.

Yours, my dear sir, W. C

TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON.

March 6, 1782. Is peace the nearer because our patriots have resolved that it is desirable? Will the victory they have gained in the House of Commons be attended with any other? Do they expect the same success on other occasions, and having once gained a ma

We thank you for the Fast-sermon. I had not jority are they to be the majority for ever? read two pages before I exclaimed the These are the questions we agitate by the fireside

man has read Expostulation. But though there in an evening, without being able to come to any

certain conclusion, partly I suppose because the ter delays so long to gratify your expectation. It subject is in itself uncertain, and partly because we is a state of mind that is apt to tire and disconcert are not furnished with the means of understand-us; and there are but few pleasures that make ing it. I find the politics of times past far more us amends for the pain of repeated disappointment. intelligible than those of the present. Time has I take it for granted you have not received thrown light upon what was obscure, and decided the volume, not having received it myself, nor what was ambiguous. The characters of great indeed heard from Johnson, since he fixed the men, which are always mysterious while they first of the month for its publication. live, are ascertained by the faithful historian, and What a medley are our public prints, half the sooner or later receive their wages of fame or in-page filled with the ruin of the country, and the famy, according to their true deserts. How have I other half filled with the vices and pleasures of seen sensible and learned men burn incense to the it—here an island taken, and there a new comedy memory of Oliver Cromwell, ascribing to him, as-here an empire lost, and there an Italian opera, the greatest hero in the world, the dignity of the or a Lord's rout on a Sunday! British empire during the interregnum. A cen- "May it please your lordship! I am an Englishtury passed before that idol, which seemed to be man, and must stand or fall with the nation. Reof gold, was proved to be a wooden one. The ligion, its true palladium, has been stolen away; fallacy however was at length detected, and the and it is crumbling into dust. Sin ruins us, the honour of that detection has fallen to the share sins of the great especially, and of their sins espeof a woman. I do not know whether you have cially the violation of the Sabbath, because it is read Mrs. Macaulay's history of that period. She naturally productive of all the rest. If you wish has handled him more roughly than the Scots did well to our arms, and would be glad to see the at the battle of Dunbar. He would have thought kingdom emerging again from her ruins, pay more it little worth his while to have broken through all respect to an ordinance that deserves the deepest! obligations divine and human, to have wept croco I do not say pardon this short remonstrance!dile tears, and wrapped himself up in the obscu-The concern I feel for my country, and the inrity of speeches that nobody could understand, terest I have in its prosperity, give me a right to could he have foreseen that in the ensuing centu- make it. I am, &c." tury a lady's scissars would clip his laurels close, and expose his naked villany to the scorn of all posterity. This however has been accomplished, and so effectually, that I suppose it is not in the power of the most artificial management to make them grow again. Even the sagacious of mankind are blind when Providence leaves them to be deluded; so blind, that a tyrant shall be mistaken for a true patriot, true patriots (such were the Long Parliament) shall be abhorred as tyrants, and almost a whole nation shall dream, that they have the full enjoyment of liberty, for years after such a complete knave as Oliver shall have stolen it completely from them. I am indebted for all this show of historical knowledge to Mr. Bull, who has lent me five volumes of the work I mention. I was willing to display it while I have it; in a twelve-month's time I shall remember almost nothing of the matter.

W. C.

Thus one might write to his lordship, and (I suppose) might be as profitably employed in whistling the tune of an old ballad.

I have no copy of the preface, nor do I know at present how Johnson and Mr. Newton have settled it. In the matter of it there was nothing offensively peculiar; but it was thought too pious. Yours, my dear friend, W. C.*

TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
March 14, 1782.

I CAN only repeat what I said sometime since, that the world is grown more foolish and careless than it was when I had the honour of knowing it. Though your preface was of a serious cast, it was yet free from every thing that might, with propriety, expose it to the charge of Methodism, being guilty of no offensive peculiarities, nor containing any of those obnoxious doctrines at which the world is so apt to be angry, and which we must give her leave to be angry at, because we know sho can not help it. It asserted nothing more than WE have great pleasure in the contemplation of every rational creature must admit to be trueyour Northern journey, as it promises us a sight "that divine and earthly things can no longer of you and yours by the way, and are only sorry stand in competition with each other, in the judgMiss Shuttleworth can not be of the party. A line ment of any man, than while he continues ignoto ascertain the hour when we may expect you, by the next preceding post, will be welcome.

TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. MY DEAR FRIEND,

March 7, 1782.

It is not much for my advantage that the prin

* At this period, the first volume of the writer's poems issued from the press.

U

worse.

rant of their respective value; and that the mo- to London. No sooner was he gone, than the ment the eyes are opened, the latter are always Chateau, being left without a garrison, was becheerfully relinquished for the sake of the former." sieged as regularly as the night came on. VilNow I do most certainly remember the time when lains were both heard and seen in the garden, and such a proposition as this would have been at least at the doors and windows. The kitchen window supportable, and when it would not have spoiled in particular was attempted, from which they took the market of any volume, to which it had been a complete pane of glass, exactly opposite to the prefixed, ergo the times are altered for the iron by which it was fastened; but providentially the window had been nailed to the woodwork, in I have reason to be very much satisfied with my order to keep it close, and that the air might be publisher-he marked such lines as did not please excluded; thus they were disappointed, and being him, and as often as I could, I paid all possible discovered by the maid, withdrew. The ladies respect to his animadversions. You will accord-being worn out with continual watching, and ingly find, at least if you recollect how they stood repeated alarms, were at last prevailed upon to in the MS., that several passages are better for take refuge with us. Men furnished with firehaving undergone his critical notice. Indeed I do arms were put into the house, and the rascals, not know where I could have found a bookseller having intelligence of this circumstance, beat a who could have pointed out to me my defects with retreat. Mr. Jones returned; Mrs. Jones and more discernment; and as I find it is a fashion for Miss Green, her daughter, left us, but Lady Ausmodern bards to publish the names of the literati, ten's spirits having been too much disturbed, to be who have favoured their works with a revisal, able to repose in a place where she had been so would myself most willingly have acknowledged much terrified, she was left behind. She remains my obligations to Johnson, and so I told him. I with us till her lodgings at the vicarage can be am to thank you likewise, and ought to have done made ready for her reception. I have now sent it in the first place, for having recommended to you what has occurred of moment in our history me the suppression of some lines, which I am now since my last. more than ever convinced would at least have done me no honour.

W. C.

TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. MY DEAR WILLIAM,

|

I say amen, with all my heart, to your observation on religious characters. Men who profess themselves adepts in mathematical knowledge, in astronomy, or jurisprudence, are generally as well qualified as they would appear. The reason may be, that they are always liable to detection, should they attempt to impose upon mankind, and thereTHE modest terms in which you express your- fore take care to be what they pretend. In reliself on the subject of lady Austen's commendation gion alone, a profession is often slightly taken up, embolden me to add my suffrage to hers, and to and slovenly carried on, because forsooth candor confirm it by assuring you I think her just and and charity require us to hope the best, and to well founded in her opinion of you. The compli- judge favourably of our neighbour, and because ment indeed glances at myself; for were you less it is easy to deceive the ignorant, who are a great than she accounts you, I ought not to afford you majority, upon this subject. Let a man attach that place in my esteem which you have held so himself to a particular party, contend furiously long. My own sagacity therefore and discern- for what are properly called evangelical doctrines, ment are not a little concerned upon the occasion, and enlist himself under the banner of some pofor either you resemble the picture, or I have strangely mistaken my man, and formed an erroneous judgment of his character. With respect to your face and figure indeed, there I leave the ladies to determine, as being naturally best qualified to decide the point; but whether you are perfectly the matter--he can talk-he has the Shibboleth of the man of sense, and the gentleman, is a question in true church-the Bible in his pocket, and a which I am as much interested as they, and which, head well stored with notions. But the quiet, you being my friend, I am of course prepared to humble, modest, and peaceable person, who is in settle in your favour. The lady (whom, when his practice what the other is only in his profes you know her as well, you will love as much as sion, who hates a noise, and therefore makes we do) is, and has been during the last fortnight, none, who knowing the snares that are in the a part of our family. Before she was perfectly world, keeps himself as much out of it as he can, restored to health, she returned to Clifton. Soon and never enters it, but when duty calls, and even after she came back, Mr. Jones had occasion to go then with fear and trembling-is the Christian

pular preacher, and the business is done. Behold a Christian! a Saint! a Phoenix!-In the mean time perhaps his heart, and his temper, and even his conduct, are unsanctified; possibly less exemplary than those of some avowed infidels. No

that will always stand highest in the estimation | wrong, were I to omit mentioning the great comof those, who bring all characters to the test of placency with which I read your narrative of Mrs. true wisdom, and judge of the tree by its fruit.

Unwin's smiles and tears; persons of much senYou are desirous of visiting the prisoners; you sibility are always persons of taste, and a taste for wish to administer to their necessities, and to give poetry depends indeed upon that very article more them instruction. This task you will undertake, than upon any other. If she had Aristotle by though you expect to encounter many things in heart, I should not esteem her judgment so highly, the performance of it, that will give you pain. were she defective in point of feeling, as I do, and Now this I can understand-you will not listen must esteem it, knowing her to have such feelings to the sensibilities that distress yourself, but to as Aristotle could not communicate, and as half the distresses of others. Therefore, when I meet the readers in the world are destitute of. This it with one of the specious praters above-mentioned, is that makes me set so high a price upon your I will send him to Stock, that by your diffidence mother's opinion. She is a critic by nature, and he may be taught a lesson of modesty; by your not by rule, and has a perception of what is good generosity, a little feeling for others; and by your or bad in composition, that I never knew deceive general conduct, in short, to chatter less, and to her; insomuch, that when two sorts of expression do more. have pleaded equally for the precedence, in my own esteem, and I have referred, as in such cases I always did, the decision of the point to her, 1 never knew her at a loss for a just one.

Yours, my dear friend,

W. C.

TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. MY DEAR FRIEND,

the truth. He that put it into the heart of a certain eastern monarch, to amuse himself one sleepless night with listening to the records of his kingdom, is able to give birth to such another occasion, and inspire his lordship with a curiosity to know what he has received from a friend he once loved and valued. If an answer comes, however, you shall not long be a stranger to the contents of it.

Whether I shall receive any answer from his Chancellorship or not, is at present in ambiguo, March 18, 1782. and will probably continue in the same state of NOTHING has given me so much pleasure, since ambiguity much longer. He is so busy a man, the publication of my volume, as your favourable and at this time, if the papers may be credited, so opinion of it. It may possibly meet with accept- particularly busy, that I am forced to mortify myance from hundreds, whose commendation would self with the thought, that both my book and my afford me no other satisfaction than what I should letter may be thrown into a corner as too insignififind in the hope that it might do them good. I cant for a statesman's notice, and never found till have some neighbours in this place, who say they his executor finds them. This affair however like it-doubtless I had rather they should than is neither at my libitum nor his. I have sent him that they should not-but I know them to be persons of no more taste in poetry, than skill in the mathematics; their applause therefore is a sound that has no music in it for me. But my vanity was not so entirely quiescent when I read your friendly account of the manner it had affected you. It was tickled, and pleased, and told me in a pretty loud whisper, that others perhaps of whose taste and judgment I had a high opinion, I have read your letter to their worships, and would approve it too. As a giver of good coun- much approve of it. May it have the effect it sels, I wish to please all-as an author, I am per- ought! If not, still you have acted a humane and fectly indifferent to the judgment of all, except becoming part, and the poor aching toes and finthe few who are indeed judicious. The circum- gers of the prisoners will not appear in judgment stance however in your letter which pleased me against you. I have made a slight alteration in most was, that you wrote in high spirits, and the last sentence, which perhaps you will not disthough you said much, suppressed more, lest you approve. should hurt my delicacy-my delicacy is obliged to you-but you observe it is not so squeamish, but that after it has feasted upon praise expressed, it can find a comfortable dessert in the contemplation of praise implied. I now feel as if I should be glad to begin another volume, but from the will to the power is a step too wide for me to take at YOUR letter gave me great pleasure, both as a at present, and the season of the year brings with testimony of your approbation, and of your reit so many avocations into the garden, where gard. I wrote in hopes of pleasing you, and such I am my own fac totum, that I have little or no as you; and though I must confess that, at the leisure for the quill. I should do myself much same time, I cast a side-long glance at the good

Yours ever,

W. C.

TO THE REV. WILLIAM BULL.
March 24, 1782.

TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN

liking of the world at large, I believe I can say |
it was more for the sake of their advantage and
instruction than their praise. They are children; MY DEAR WILLIAM,
if we give them physic, we must sweeten the rim
of the cup with honey-if my book is so far ho-
noured as to be made the vehicle of true know-
ledge to any that are ignorant, I shall rejoice; and
do already rejoice that it has procured me a proof
of your esteem.

TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

April 1, 1782.

April 27, 1782.

A PART of Lord Harrington's new-raised corps have taken up their quarters at Olney, since yon left us. They have the regimental music with them. The men have been drawn up this morning upon the Market-hill, and a concert such as we have not heard these many years, has been performed at no great distance from our window. Your mother and I both thrust our heads into the coldest east-wind that ever blew in April, that we might hear them to greater advantage. The band acquitted themselves with taste and propriety, not blairing, like trumpeters at a fair, but, producing I COULD not have found a better trumpeter. gentle and elegant symphony, such as charmed Your zeal to serve the interest of my volume, to- our ears, and convinced us that no length of time gether with your extensive acquaintance, qualify can wear out a taste for harmony; and that though you perfectly for that most useful office. Me- plays, balls, and masquerades have lost all their thinks I see you with the long tube at your mouth, power to please us, and we should find them not proclaiming to your numerous connexions my only insipid but insupportable, yet sweet music is poetical merits, and at proper intervals levelling it sure to find a corresponding faculty in the soul, a at Olney, and pouring into my ear the welcome sensibility that lives to the last, which even relisound of their approbation. I need not encourage gion itself does not extinguish. you to proceed, your breath will never fail in such When we objected to your coming for a single a cause; and thus encouraged, I myself perhaps night, it was only in the way of argument, and in may proceed also, and when the versifying fit re- hopes to prevail on you to contrive a longer abode turns, produce another volume. Alas! we shall with us. But rather than not see you at all, we never receive such commendations from him on should be glad of you though but for an hour. the woolsack, as your good friend has lavished If the paths should be clean enough, and we are upon us. Whence I learn, that however impor- able to walk (for you know we can not ride), we tant I may be in my own eyes, I am very insig- will endeavour to meet you in Weston-park. But nificant in his. To make me amends however I mention no particular hour, that I may not lay for this mortification, Mr. Newton tells me, that you under a supposed obligation to be punctual, my book is likely to run, spread, and prosper; that which might be difficult at the end of so long a the grave can not help smiling, and the gay are journey. Only if the weather be favourable, you struck with the truth of it; and that it is likely shall find us there in the evening. It is winter in to find its way into his Majesty's hands, being put the south, perhaps therefore it may be spring at into a proper course for that purpose. Now if the least, if not summer, in the north. For I have King should fall in love with my Muse, and with read that it is warmest in Greenland when it is you for her sake, such an event would make us coldest here. Be that as it may, we may hope at ample amends for the Chancellor's indifference, the latter end of such an April that the first change and you might be the first divine that ever reached of wind will improve the season. a mitre from the shoulders of a poet. But (I believe) we must be content, I with my gains, if I gain any thing, and you with the pleasare of knowing that I am a gainer,

The curate's simile Latinized

Sors adversa gerit stimulum, sed tendit et alas: Pungit, api similis, sed, velut ista, fugit. What a dignity there is in the Roman language! We laughed heartily at your answer to little and what an idea it gives us of the good sense and John's question; and yet I think you might have masculine mind of the people that spoke it! The given him a direct answer-" There are various same thought which clothed in English seems sorts of cleverness, my dear-1 do not know that childish, and even foolish, assumes a different air mine lies in the poetical way, but I can do ten in Latin, and makes at least as good an epigram times more towards the entertainment of company as some of Martial's. in the way of conversation than our friend at Olney. He can rhyme, and I can rattle. If he had my talent, or I had his, we should be too charming, and the world would almost adore us." Yours, W. C.

I remember your making an observation, when here, on the subject of parenthesis, to which I ac

led without limitation; but a little attention will convince us both, that they are not to be universally condemned. When they abound, and when

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