much of my translation as was ready for it, and do not know that I shall bestow another single stroke of my pen on that part of it before I send it to the press. My business at present is with the sixteenth book, in which I have made some progress, but have not yet actually sent forth Patroclus to the battle. My first translation lies always before me line by line I examine it as I proceed, and line by line reject it. I do not, however, hold myself altogether indebted to my critics for the better judgment that I seem to exercise in this matter now than in the first instance. By long study of him, I am in fact become much more familiar with Homer than at any time heretofore, and have possessed myself of such a taste of his manner, as is not to be attained by mere cursory reading for amusement. But, alas! 'tis after all a mortifying consideration that the majority of my judges hereafter, will be no judges of this. Græcum est, non potest legi, is a motto that would suit nine in ten of those who will give themselves airs about it, and pretend to like or to dislike. No matter. I know I shall please you, because I know what pleases you, and I am sure that I have done it. Adieu! my good friend, Ever affectionately yours, W. C. Cowper alludes in the following letters, to the progress of his version, and the obstructions to the negro cause. TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ., Weston, March 29, 1788. My dear Friend, I rejoice that you have so successfully performed so long a journey without the aid of hoofs or wheels. I do not know that a journey on foot exposes a man to more disasters than a carriage or a horse; perhaps it may be the safer way of travelling, but the novelty of it impressed me with some anxiety on your account. subject, and be assured of an undissembling welcome at all times, when it shall suit you to give us your company at Weston. As to her, she is one of the sincerest of the human race, and if she receives you with the appearance of pleasure, it is because she feels it. Her behavior on such occasions is with her an affair of conscience, and she dares no more look a falsehood than utter one. It is almost time to tell you, that I have received the books safe; they have not suffered the least detriment by the way, and I am much obliged to you for them. If my translation should be a little delayed in consequence of this favor of yours, you must take the blame on yourself. It is impossible not to read the notes of a commentator so learned, so judicious, and of so fine a taste as Dr. Clarke,* having him at one's elbow. Though he has been but few hours under my roof, I have already peeped at him, and find that he will be instar omnium to me. They are such notes exactly as I wanted. A translator of Homer should ever have somebody at hand to say, "That's a beauty," lest he should slumber where his author does not, not only depreciating, by such inadvertency, the work of his original, but depriving perhaps his own of an embellishment, which wanted only to be noticed. If you hear ballads sung in the streets on the hardships of the negroes in the islands, they are probably mine. It must be an honor to any man to have given a stroke to that chain, however feeble. I fear however that the attempt will fail. The tidings which have lately reached me from London concerning it are not the most encouraging. While the matter slept, or was but slightly adverted to, the English only had their share of shame in common with other nations on account of it. But, since it has been canvassed and searched to the bottom, since the public attention has been riveted to the hor rible scheme, we can no longer plead either that we did not know it, or did not think of it. Woe be to us if we refuse the poor captives the re ress to which they have so clear a right, and prove ourselves in the sight of God and men, indifferent to all considerations but those of gain! Adieu, W. C. It seems almost incredible to myself that my company should be at all desirable to you, or to any man. I know so little of the world as it goes at present, and labor generally under such a depression of spirits, especially at those times when I could wish to be most cheerful, that my own share in every conversation appears to me to be the most insipid thing imaginable. But you say you found it otherwise, and I will not for my own sake doubt your sincerity: de gustibus nom est disputandum, and since such is yours, I shall leave you in quiet possession and attributes of God," and the "Evidences of Natural of it, wishing indeed both its continuance and increase. I shall not find a properer TO LADY HESKETH. The Lodge, March 31, 1788. My dearest Cousin,-Mrs. Throckmorton * Well known for his celebrated works, on the "Being and Revealed Religion." They were, after all, never appropriated to that purpose. The interests of commerce were too much at vari place in which to say, accept of Mrs. Un-ance with this great cause of humanity not to oppose a win's acknowledgements, as well as mine, long and persevering resistance to its progress in parlia ment. Though Mr. Pitt supported the measure, it was for the kindness of your expressions on this not made a government question. has promised to write to me. beg that, as often as you shall see her, you will give her a smart pinch, and say, "Have you written to my cousin?" I build all my hopes of her performance on this expedient, and for so doing these my letters, not patent, shall be your sufficient warrant. You are thus to give her the question till she shall answer, "Yes." I have written one more song, and sent it. It is called the "Morning Dream," and may be sung to the tune of Tweed-Side, or any other tune that will suit it, for I am not nice on that subject. I would have copied it for you, had I not almost filled my sheet with out it; but now, my dear, you must stay till the sweet sirens of London shall bring it to you, or, if that happy day should never arrive, I hereby acknowledge myself your debtor to that amount. I shall now probably cease to sing of tortured negroes, a theme which never pleased me, but which, in the hope of doing them some little service, I was not unwilling to handle. If anything could have raised Miss More to a higher place in my opinion than she possessed before, it could only be your information that, after all, she, and not Mr. Wilberforce, is author of that volume. How comes it to pass, that she, being a woman, writes with a force and energy, and a correctness hitherto arrogated by the men, and not very frequently displayed even by the men themselves? Adieu, W. C. charity wanted that principle which alone could sanctify it. His views terminated here; this world's good, and this world's applause, were the motives and the end of his actions. He forgot God; he was destitute of piety; and the absence of this great and first principle of human actions rendered his shining deeds, however they might be admired among men, of no value in the sight of God." Admonitory statements like these are invaluable, and demand the earnest attention of those to whom they apply. Nor is the next passage less important on the subject of sins of omission. "It is not less against negative than against actual evil, that affectionate exhortation, lively remonstrance, and pointed parable are exhausted. It is against the tree which bore no fruit, the lamp which had no oil, the unprofitable servant who made no use of his talent, that the severe sentence is denounced, as well as against corrupt fruit, bad oil, and talents ill employed. We are led to believe, from the same high authority, that omitted duties and neglected opportunities will furnish no inconsiderable portion of our future comdemnation. A very awful part of the decision, in the great day of account, seems to be reserved merely for carelessness, omis sions, and negatives. Ye gave me no meat, ye gave me no drink; ye took me not in, ye visited me not. On the punishment attending positive crimes, as being more naturally obvious, it was not, perhaps, thought so necessary to insist."* This work was the first important appeal, in those days, addressed to the fashionable world, and Miss More's previous intercourse with it admirably qualified her to write with judgment and effect. TO MRS. KING.t The object of this valuable treatise is not to attack gross delinquencies, but to show the danger of resting for acceptance on mere outward decorum and general respectability of character, while the internal principle, which can alone elevate the affections of the heart and influence the life, is wanting. We select the following passage as powerfully illustrating this view. Speaking of the rich Weston Lodge, April 11, 1788. man, who is represented by our Lord as Dear Madam,-The melancholy that I have lifting up his eyes in torments, Miss More mentioned, and concerning which you are so observes, "He committed no enormities, that kind as to inquire, is of a kind, so far as I have been transmitted to us; for that he know, peculiar to myself. It does not at all dined well and dressed well could hardly affect the operations of my mind on any subincur the bitter penalty of eternal misery.ject to which I can attach it, whether serious That his expenses were suitable to his sta- or ludicrous, or whatsoever it may be; for tion, and his splendor proportioned to his which reason I am almost always employed opulence, does not exhibit any objection to either in reading or writing when I am not his character. Nor are we told that he re-engaged in conversation. A vacant hour is fused the crumbs which Lazarus solicited: and yet this man, on an authority we are not permitted to question, is represented in a future state as lifting up his eyes, being in torments. His punishment seems to have been the consequence of an irreligious, a worldly spirit; a heart corrupted by the softnesses and delights of life. It was not because he was rich, but because he trusted in riches; or, if even he was charitable, his my abhorrence, because when I am not ocenpied I suffer under the whole influence of my unhappy temperament. I thank you for the recommendation of a medicine from which you have received benefit yourself; but there is hardly anything that I have not proved, however beneficial it may have been found by others, in my own case utterly useless. Í Thoughts on the Manners of the Great ↑ Private correspondence. have, therefore, long since bid adieu to all hope from human means, the means excepted of perpetual employment. I will not say that we shall never meet, because it is not for a creature who knows not what shall be to-morrow to assert anything positively concerning the future. Things more unlikely I have yet seen brought to pass, and things which, if I had expressed myself of them at all, I should have said were impossible. But, being respectively circumstanced as we are, there seems no present probability of it. You speak of insuperable hindrances; and I also have hindrances that would be equally difficult to surmount. One is, that I never ride, that I am not able to perform a journey on foot, and that chaises do not roll within the sphere of that economy which my circumstances oblige me to observe. If this were not of itself sufficient to excuse me, when I decline so obliging an invitation as yours, I could mention yet other obstacles. But to what end? One impracticability makes as effectual a barrier as a thousand. It will be otherwise in other worlds. Either we shall not bear about us a body, or it will be more easily transportable than this. In the meantime, by the help of the post, strangers to each other may cease to be such, as you and I have already begun to experience. It is indeed, madam, as you say, a foolish world, and likely to continue such till the Great Teacher shall himself vouchsafe to make it wiser. I am persuaded that time alone will never mend it. But there is doubtless a day appointed when there shall be a more general manifestation of the beauty of holiness than mankind have ever yet beheld. When that period shall arrive there will be an end of profane representations, whether of heaven or hell, on the stage-the great realities will supercede them. I have just discovered that I have written to you on paper so transparent that it will hardly keep the contents a secret. Excuse the mistake, and believe me, dear madam, with my respects to Mr. King, Affectionately yours, W. C. The slow progress of the abolition cause, and the nature of the difficulties, are adverted to in the following letter. TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON.* Weston, April 19, 1788. My dear Friend,-I thank you for your last, and for the verses in particular therein contained, in which there is not on y rhyme but reason. And yet I fear that neither you nor 1, with all our reasoning and rhyming, Private correspondence. shall effect much good in this matter. So far as I can learn, and I have had intelligence from a quarter within the reach of such as is respectable, our governors are not animated altogether with such heroic ardor as the occasion might inspire. They consult frequently indeed in the cabinet about it, but the frequency of their consultations in a case so plain as this would be, did not what Shakspeare calls commodity, and what we call political expediency, cast a cloud over it, rather bespeaks a desire to save appearances than to interpose to purpose. Laws will, I suppose, be enacted for the more humane treatment of the negroes; but who shall see to the execution of them? The planters will not, and the negroes cannot. In fact, we know that laws of this tendency have not been wanting, enacted even amongst themselves, but there has been always a want of prosecutors, or righteous judges; deficiencies which will not be very easily supplied. The newspapers have lately told us that these merciful masters have, on this occasion, been occupied in passing ordinances, by which the lives and limbs of their slaves are to be secured from wanton cruelty hereafter. But who does not immediately detect the artifice, or can give them a moment's credit for anything more than a design, by this show of lenity, to avert the storm which they think hangs over them? On the whole, I fear there is reason to wish, for the honor of England, that the nuisance had never been troubled, lest we eventually make ourselves justly chargeable with the whole offence by not removing it. The enormity cannot be palliated; we can no longer plead that we were not aware of it, or that our attention was otherwise engaged, and shall be inexcusable therefore ourselves if we leave the least part of it unredressed. Such arguments as Pharaoh might have used to justify the destruction of the Israelites, substituting only sugar for bricks, may lie ready for our use also; but I think we can find no better. We are tolerably well, and shall rejoice to hear that, as the year rises, Mrs. Newton's health keeps pace with it. Believe me, my dear friend, Affectionately and truly yours, TO LADY HESKETH. W. C. The Lodge, May 6, 1788. My dearest Cousin,-You ask me how I like Smollett's Don Quixote? I answer, well; perhaps better than anybody's; but, having no skill in the original, some diffidence becomes me: that is to say, I do not know whether I ought to prefer it or not. Yet, there is so little deviation from other versions which I have seen that I do not much hesi tate. It has made me laugh I know immoderately, and in such a case ça suffit. TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. A thousand thanks, my dear, for the new Alas! my library-I must now give it up convenience in the way of stowage which you for a lost thing forever. The only consola are so kind as to intend me. There is noth-tion belonging to the circumstance is, or ing in which I am so deficient as repositories Collectanea curiosa, the English of which is, a collection of curiosities. A title which I prefer to all others, because if I live, I shall take care that the box shall merit it, and because it will operate as an incentive to open that which being locked cannot be opened: for in these cases the greater the baulk the more wit is discovered by the ingenious contriver of it, viz., myself. The General, I understand by his last letter, is in town. In my last to him I told him news, possibly it will give you pleasure, and ought for that reason to be made known to you as soon as possible. My friend Rowley, who I told you has, after twenty-five years' silence, renewed his correspondence with me, and who now lives in Ireland, where he has many and considerable connexions, has sent to me for thirty subscription papers.* Rowley is one of the most benevolent and friendly creatures in the world, and will, I dare say, do all in his power to serve me. I am just recovered from a violent cold, attended by a cough, which split my head while it lasted. I escaped these tortures all the winter, but whose constitution, or what skin, can possibly be proof against our vernal breezes in England? Mine never were, nor will be. seems to be, that no such loss did ever befall any other man, or can ever befall me again. As far as books are concerned I am Totus teres atque rotundus, The books, and may set fortune at defiance. You will oblige me much by sending me "Crazy Kate." A gentleman last winter promised me both her and the "Lace-maker," but he went to London, that place in which, as in the grave, "all things are forgotten," and I have never seen either of them.* I begin to find some prospect of a conclusion, of the Iliad at least, now opening upon me, having reached the eighteenth book. Your letter found me yesterday in the very fact of dispersing the whole host of Troy, by the voice only of Achilles. There is nothing extravagant in the idea, for you have witnessed a similar effect attending even such a voice as mine, at midnight, from a garret window, on the dogs of a whole parish, whom I have put to flight in a moment. W. C. His high sense of the character and qualifications of Lady Hesketh is pleasingly expressed in the following letter, where Mrs. Montagu's coteries in Portman-square are also alluded to. TO LADY HESKETH. The Lodge, May 12, 1788. It is probable, my dearest coz., that I shall not be able to write much, but as much as I When people are intimate, we say they are can I will. The time between rising and as great as two inkle-weavers, on which ex-breakfast is all that I can at present find, and pression I have to remark, in the first place, this morning I lay longer than usual. that the word great is here used in a sense which the corresponding term has not, so far as I know, in any other language, and secondly, that inkle-weavers contract intimacies with each other sooner than other people on account of their juxtaposition in weaving of inkle. Hence it is that Mr. Gregson and I emulate those happy weavers in the closeness of our connexion. We live near to each other, and while the Hall is empty are each other's only extraforaneous comfort. Most truly thine, W. C. For his version of Homer. † Mr. Gregson was chaplain to Mr. Throckmorton. In the style of the lady's note to you, I can easily perceive a smatch of her character. Neither men nor women write with such neatness of expression, who have not given a good deal of attention to language, and qualified themselves by study. At the same time it gave me much more pleasure to observe, that my coz., though not standing on the pinnacle of renown quite so elevated *He alludes to engravings of these two characters, which had acquired much popularity with the public, especially Crazy Kate, beginning, There often wanders oge, whom better days," &c. &c. + Mrs. Montagu. as that which lifts Mrs. Montagu to the clouds, falls in no degree short of her in this particular; so that, should she make you a member of her academy,* she will do it honor. Suspect me not of flattering you, for I abhor the thought; neither will you suspect it. Recollect that it is an invariable rule with me never to pay compliments to those I love. Two days, en suite, I have walked to Gayhurst, a longer journey than I have walked on foot these seventeen years. The first day I went alone, designing merely to make the experiment, and choosing to be at liberty to return at whatsoever point of my pilgrimage I should find myself fatigued. For I was not without suspicion that years, and some other things no less injurious than years, viz., melancholy and distress of mind, might by this time have unfitted me for such achieve ments. But I found it otherwise. I reached the church, which stands, as you know, in the garden, in fifty-five minutes, and returned in ditto time to Weston. The next day I took the same walk with Mr. Powley, having a desire to show him the prettiest place in the country. I not only performed these two excursions without injury to my health, but have by means of them gained indisputable proof that my ambulatory faculty is not yet impaired; a discovery which, considering that to my feet alone I am likely, as I have ever been, to be indebted always for my transportation from place to place, I find very I cannot say that poor Kate resembles much the original, who was neither so young nor so handsome as the pencil has represented her; but she has a figure well suited to the account given of her in "The Task," and has a face exceedingly expressive of despairing melancholy. The Lace-maker is accidentally a good likeness of a young woman, once our neighbor, who was hardly less handsome than the picture twenty years ago; but the loss of one husband, and the acquisition of another, have, since that time, impaired her much; yet she might still be supposed to have sat to the artist.* We dined yesterday with your friend and mine, the most companionable and domestic Mr. C. The whole kingdom can hardly furnish a spectacle more pleasing to a man who has a taste for true happiness, than himself, Mrs. C, and their multitudinous family. Seven long miles are interposed between us, or perhaps I should oftener have an opportunity of declaiming on this subject. I am now in the nineteenth book of the Iliad, and on the point of displaying such feats of heroism performed by Achilles as make all other achievements trivial. I may well exclaim, "O for a Muse of fire!" especially having not only a great host to cope with, but a great river also; much, however, may be done when Homer leads the way. I should not have chosen to have been the original author of such a business even though all the Nine had stood at my elbow. You will find in the last Gentleman's Mag-Time has wonderful effects. We admire azine a sonnet, addressed to Henry Cowper, signed T. H. I am the writer of it. No creature knows this but yourself; you will make what use of the intelligence you shall sce good. W. C. delectable. TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. The Lodge, May 24, 1788. My dear Friend,-For two excellent prints I return you my sincere acknowledgments.. The Blue-stocking Club, or Bas bleu. The following is the account of the origin of the Bluestocking Club, extracted from Boswell's Life of Johnsoa:"About this time (1781) it was much the fashion for several ladies to have evening assemblies, where the fair sex might participate in conversation with literary and ingenious men, animated by a desire to please. These societies were denominated Blue-stocking Clubs, the origin of which title being little known, it may be worth while to relate it. One of the most eminent members of these societies, when they first commenced, was Mr. Benjamin Sullingfleet, (author of tracts relating to natural history, &c.) whose dress was remarkably grave, and in particular it was observed that he core blue stockings. Such was the excellence of his conversation, that his absence was feit as so great a loss, that it used to be mid, We can do nothing without the blue stockings; and thus by degrees the title was established. Miss Hannah More has admirably described a Blue-stocking that in an ancient, for which we should send a modern bard to Bedlam. I saw at Mr. C's a great curiosity-an antique bust of Paris, in Parian marble. You will conclude that it interested me exceedingly. I pleased myself with supposing that it once stood in Helen's chamber. It was in fact brought from the Levant, and, though not well mended, (for it had suffered much by time,) is an admirable performance. W. C. Mr. Bull had urged Cowper once more to employ the powers of his pen, in what he so eminently excelled, the composition of hymns expressive of resignation to the will of God. It is much to be lamented that he here declines what would so essentially have promoted the interests of true religion. TO THE REV. WILLIAM BULLI. My dear Friend,-Ask possibilities and CA in her Bas Bleu,' a poem in which many of the they shall be performed; but ask not hymns persons who were most conspicuous there are mentioned." A large mansion near Newport Pagnel, formerly belonging to Miss Wright, The Rev. Mr. Powley married Mrs. Unwin's daughter. * Poor Kate and the Lace-maker were portraits drawn from real life. † Mr. Chester, of Chicheley, near Newport Pagnel. Private correspondence. |