do I know at present how Johnson of it; to set forth the requisites for and Mr. Newton have settled it. In that end, and to enlarge upon the the matter of it there was nothing of happiness of that state of life, when fensively peculiar ; but it was thought managed as it ought to be. In the too pious.

Yours, my dear friend.

LETTER XX.

course of my journey through this ample theme, I should wish to touch upon the characters, the deficiencies, and the mistakes of thousands, who enter on a scene of retirement, unqualified for it in every respect, and with such designs as have no tendency to promote either their own happiAug. 25, 1781. ness, or that of others. But, as I have told you before, there are times

To the Rev. William Unwin.

My dear friend, WE rejoice with you sincerely in when I am no more a poet than I am the birth of another son, and in the a mathematician; and when such a prospect you have of Mrs. Unwin's time occurs, I always think it better recovery; may your three children, to give up the point, than to labour and the next three, when they shall it in vain. I shall yet again be obligmake their appearance, prove so ma-ed to trouble you for franks. The ny blessings to their parents, and addition of three thousand lines, or make you wish that you had twice the near that number, having occasioned number. But what made you expect a demand which I did not always daily that you should hear from me? foresee; but your obliging friend, Letter for letter is the law of all cor- and your obliging self, having allowed respondence whatsoever; and be- me the liberty of application, I make cause I wrote last, I have indulged it without apology.

myself for some time in expectation The solitude, or rather the duality of a sheet from you: not that I go- of our condition at Olney, seems vern myself entirely by the punctilio drawing to a conclusion. You have of reciprocation; but having been not forgot perhaps, that the building pretty much occupied of late, I was we inhabit consists of two mansions. not sorry to find myself at liberty to And because you have only seen the exercise my discretion, and furnished inside of that part of it, which is in with a good excuse, if I chose to be our occupation, I therefore inform silent. you, that the other end of it is by far

I expected, as you remember, to the most superb, as well as the most have been published last spring, and commodious. Lady Austen has seen was disappointed. The delay has it, has set her heart upon it, is going afforded me an opportunity to in- to fit it up and furnish it; and if she crease the quantity of my publication can get rid of the remaining two years by about a third; and if my Muse of the lease of her London house, has not forsaken me, which I rather will probably enter upon it in a twelvesuspect to be the case, may possibly month. You will be pleased with yet add to it. I have a subject in this intelligence, because I have alhand which promises me a great ready told you, that she is a woman abundance of poetical matter, but perfectly well-bred, sensible, and in which for want of a something I every respect agreeable; and, above am not able to describe, I cannot at all, because she loves your mother present proceed with. The name of dearly. It has, in my eyes (and I it is Retirement, and my purpose to doubt not it will have the same in recommend the proper improvement yours), strong marks of providential

interposition. A female friend, and fancy so correctly managed, and so one who bids fair to prove herself free from irregular exuberance; at worthy of the appellation, comes re- so unexperienced an age, fruitful, yet commended by a variety of consider- not wanton, and gay without being ations, to such a place as Olney.- tawdry. When schoolboys write Since Mr. Newton went, and till this verse, if they have any fire at all, it lady came, there was not in the king- generally spends itself in flashes and dom a retirement more absolutely transient sparks, which may indeed such than ours. We did not want suggest an expectation of something company but when it came, we better hereafter, but deserve not to found it agreeable. A person that be much commended for any real has seen much of the world, and un- merit of their own. Their wit is derstands it well, has high spirits, a generally forced and false, and their lively fancy, and great readiness of sublimity, if they affect any, bomconversation, introduces a sprightli- bast. I remember well when it was ness into such a scene as this, which, thus with me, and when a turgid, if it was peaceful before, is not the noisy, unmeaning speech in a trageworse for being a little enlivened. In dy, which I should now laugh at, afcase of illness too, to which all are forded me raptures, and filled me liable, it was rather a gloomy pros- with wonder. It is not, in general, pect, if we allowed ourselves to ad- till reading and observation have setvert to it, that there was hardly a wo- tled the taste, that we can give the man in the place from whom it would prize to the best writing, in prehave been reasonable to have expect-ference to the worst. Much less are ed either comfort or assistance. The we able to execute what is good ourpresent curate's wife is a valuable selves. But Lowth seems to have person, but has a family of her own, stepped into excellence at once, and and, though a neighbour, is not a to have gained by intuition what we very near one. But if this plan is effected, we shall be in a manner one family, and I suppose never pass a day without some intercourses with each other.

little folks are happy if we can learn at last, after much labour of our own, and instruction of others. The compliments he pays to the memory of king Charles, he would probably now retract, though he be a bishop, and his majesty's zeal for episcopacy was one

Your mother sends her warm affections, and welcomes into the world the new-born William. Yours, my of the causes of his ruin. dear friend.

LETTER XXI.

To the Rev. William Unwin.

An age

or two must pass before some characters can be properly understood. The spirit of party employs itself in veiling their faults, and ascribing to them virtues which they never possessed. See Charles's face, drawn by Clarendon, and it is a handsome porFeb. 9, 1782. trait. See it more justly exhibited My dear friend, by Mrs. Macauley, and it is deformed I THANK YOU for Mr. Lowth's ver- to a degree that shocks us. Every ses; they are so good, that had I feature expresses cunning, employing been present when he spoke them, I itself in the maintaining of tyranny should have trembled for the boy, lest and dissimulation, pretending itself the man should disappoint the hopes an advocate for truth. such early genius had given birth to. It is not common to see so lively a

My letters have already apprised you, of that close and intimate con

nexion that took place between the nion, would approve it too. As a lady you visited in Queen Anne's giver of good counsel, I wish to please Street and us. Nothing could be all; as an author, I am perfectly indifmore promising, though sudden in ferent to the judgment of all, except the commencement. She treated the few who are indeed judicious. The us with as much unreservedness of circumstance, however, in your letcommunication, as if we had been ter which pleased me most, was, that born in the same house, and educat- you wrote in high spirits, and though ed together. At her departure, she you said much, suppressed more, lest herself proposed a correspondence; you should hurt my delicacy—my and because writing does not agree delicacy is obliged to you-but you with your mother, proposed a corre- observe it is not so squeamish, but spondence with me. By her own that after it has feasted upon praise desire, I wrote to her under the as- expressed, it can find a comfortable sumed relation of a brother, and she dessert in the contemplation of praise to me as my sister. implied. I now feel as if I should I thank you for the search you be glad to begin another volume; but have made after my intended motto, from the will to the power is a step but I no longer need it.

Our love is always with yourself and family. Yours, my dear friend.

LETTER XXII.

To the Rev. William Unwin.

March 18, 1782.

too wide for me to take at present; and the season of the year brings with it so many avocations in the garden, where I am my own fac totum, that I have little or no leisure for the quill. I should do myself much wrong were I to omit mentioning the great complacency with which I read your narrative of Mrs. Unwin's smiles and tears: persons of much sensibility My dear friend, are always persons of taste; and a NOTHING has given me so much taste for poetry depends indeed upon pleasure, since the publication of my that very article more than upon any volume, as your favourable opinion other. If she had Aristotle by heart, of it. It may possibly meet with ac- I should not esteem her judgment so ceptance from hundreds, whose com- highly, were she defective in point mendation would afford me no other of feeling, as I do, and must esteem satisfaction, than what I should find it, knowing her to have such feelings in the hope that it might do them as Aristotle could not communicate, good. I have some neighbours in and as half the readers in the world this place, who say they like it—are destitute of. This it is that makes doubtless I would rather they should, me set so high price upon your mothan that they should not-but I ther's opinion. She is a critic by know them to be persons of no more nature, and not by rule, and has a taste in poetry than skill in the ma- perception of what is good or bad in thematics; their applause, therefore, is composition, that I never knew dea sound that has no music in it for ceive her; insomuch, that when two But my vanity was not so entire- sorts of expression have pleaded ly quiescent when I read your friend- equally for the precedence, in my ly account of the manner it had af- own esteem, and I have referred, as fected you. It was tickled and pleas- in such cases I always did, the deed; and told me in a pretty loud cision of the point to her, I never whisper, that others perhaps, of whose knew her at a loss for a just one. taste and judgment I had a high opi- Whether I shall receive any an

me.

a

swer from his chancellorship, or not, fice. Methinks I see you with the is at present in ambiguo, and will long tube at your mouth proclaimprobably continue in the same state ing to your numerous connexions my of ambiguity much longer. He is so poetical merits, and at proper interbusy a man, and at this time, if the vals levelling it at Olney, and pouring papers may be credited, so particu- into my ear the welcome sound of larly busy, that I am forced to morti- their approbation. I need not enfy myself with the thought, that both courage you to proceed, your breath my book and my letter may be thrown will never fail in such a cause; and into a corner, as too insignificant for thus encouraged, I myself perhaps a statesman's notice, and never found may proceed also; and when the vertill his executor finds them. This sifying fit returns, produce another affair, however, is neither at my libi- volume. Alas! we shall never retum* nor his. I have sent him the ceive such commendations from him truth. He that put it into the heart on the woolsack, as your good friend of a certain Eastern monarch to amuse has lavished upon us. Whence I himself one sleepless night with lis- learn, that however important I may tening to the records of his kingdom, be in my own eyes, I am very insigis able to give birth to such another nificant in his. To make me amends, occasion, and inspire his lordship however, for this mortification, Mr. with a curiosity to know what he has Newton tells me, that my book is likereceived from a friend he once loved ly to run, spread, and prosper; that and valued. If an answer comes, the grave cannot help smiling, and however, you shall not long be a stran- the gay are struck with the truth of ger to the contents of it. it and that it is likely to find its

I have read your letter to their way into his majesty's hands, being worships, and much approve of it. put into a proper course for that purMay it have the desired effect it pose. Now if the king should fall ought! If not, still you have acted in love with my Muse, and with you a humane and becoming part; and for her sake, such an event would the poor aching toes and fingers of make us ample amends for the chanthe prisoners will not appear in judg-cellor's indifference, and you might ment against you. I have made a be the first divine that ever reached slight alteration in the last sentence, a mitre, from the shoulders of a poet. which perhaps you will not disap- But (I believe) we must be content, prove. Yours ever.

LETTER XXIII.

To the Rev. William Unwin.

My dear friend,

I with my gains, if I gain any thing, and you with the pleasure of knowing that I am a gainer.

We laughed heartily at your answer to little John's question; and yet I think you might have given him a direct answer-"There are various sorts of cleverness, my dear; April 1, 1782. I do not know that mine lies in the poetical way, but I can do ten times I COULD not have found a better more towards the entertainment of trumpeter. Your zeal to serve the company, in the way of conversation, interest of my volume, together with than our friend at Olney. He can If he had your extensive acquaintance, qualify rhyme, and I can rattle. you perfectly for that most useful of my talent, or I had his, we should be too charming, and the world would almost adore us.' Yours.

* Will.

LETTER XXIV.

To the Rev. William Unwin.

Monthly Review, the most formidable of all my judges, is still behind. What will that critical Rhadamanthus say, when my shivering genius shall appear before him? Still he June 12, 1782. keeps me in hot water, and I must wait another month for his award.

My dear friend, EVERY extraordinary occurrence Alas! when I wish for a favourable in our lives affords us an opportuni-sentence from that quarter (to conty to learn, if we will, something fess a weakness, that I should not more of our own hearts and tempers confess to all), I feel myself not a than we were before aware of. It little influenced by a tender regard is easy to promise ourselves before-to my reputation here, even among hand, that our conduct shall be wise, my neighbours at Olney. Here are or moderate, or resolute, on any watch-makers, who themselves are given occasion. But when that oc- wits, and who at present, perhaps, casion occurs, we do not always find think me one. Here is a carpenter,

it easy to make good the promise: and a baker; and, not to mention such a difference there is between others, here is your idol, Mr. theory and practice. Perhaps this is whose smile is fame. All these read no new remark; but it is not a whit the Monthly Review, and all these the worse for being old, if it be true. will set me down for a dunce, if Before I had published, I said to those terrible critics should show myself You and I, Mr. Cowper, them the example. But oh! wherewill not concern ourselves much ver else I am accounted dull, dear about what the critics may say of Mr. Griffith, let me pass for a genius our book. But having once sent my at Olney.

wits for a venture, I soon became We are sorry for little William's anxious about the issue, and found illness. It is however the privilege that I could not be satisfied with a of infancy, to recover, almost immewarm place in my own good graces, diately, what it has lost by sickness. unless my friends were pleased with We are sorry, too, for Mr. -'s danme as much as I pleased myself. gerous condition; but he that is well Meeting with their approbation, I prepared for the great journey canbegan to feel the workings of ambi- not enter on it too soon for himself, tion. It is well, said I, that my though his friends will weep at his friends are pleased, but friends are departure. Yours.

LETTER XXV.

To the Rev. William Unwin.

July 16, 1782.

sometimes partial; and mine, I have reason to think, are not altogether free from bias. Methinks I should like to hear a stranger or two speak well of me. I was presently gratified by the approbation of the London Magazine, and the Gentleman's, particularly by that of the former, and by the plaudit of Dr. Franklin. My dear friend, By the way, magazines are publica- THOUGH Some people pretend to tions we have but little respect for, be clever in the way of prophetical till we ourselves are chronicled in forecast, and to have a peculiar talent them; and then they assume an im- of sagacity, by which they can diportance in our esteem, which before vine the meaning of a providential we could not allow them. But the dispensation, while its consequences VOL. IV. Nos. 53 & 54.

F