poems pre-eminently distinguished for their viva- | per's malady, that a train of melancholy thoughts city and eloquence. Adverting to this objection, seemed ever to be pouring themselves in upon his and to the suggestion of the publisher to suppress it, mind, which neither himself nor his friends were Cowper thus writes:-"If the men of the world ever able to account for, satisfactorily. Writing to are so merrily disposed, in the midst of a thousand his friend, Mr. Newton, who had recently paid him calamities, that they will not deign to read a pre- a visit, he thus discloses the state of his mind:face, of three or four pages, because the purport of "My sensations at your departure were far from it is serious, they are far gone, indeed, in the last pleasant. When we shall meet again, and in what stage of a frenzy. I am, however, willing to hope, circumstances, or whether we shall meet or not, is that such is not the case: curiosity is an universal an article to be found nowhere but in that provipassion. There are few persons who think a book dence which belongs to the current year, and will worth reading, but feel a desire to know something not be understood till it is accomplished. This I about the writer of it. This desire will naturally know, that your visit was most agreeable to me, lead them to peep into the preface, where they will who, though I live in the midst of many agreeables, soon find, that a little perseverance will furnish am but little sensible of their charms. But when them with some information on the subject. If, you came, I determined, as much as possible, to be therefore, your preface finds no readers, I shall take deaf to the suggestions of despair; that if I could it for granted that it is because the book itself is contribute but little to the pleasure of the opportuaccounted not worth their notice. Be that as it may,nity, I might not dash it with unseasonable melanit is quite sufficient that I have played the antic ny-choly, and like an instrument with a broken string, self for their diversion; and that, in a state of de- interrupt the harmony of the concert." jection such as they are absolute strangers to, I have It is gratifying to observe, that neither the attensometimes put on an air of cheerfulness and viva- tion which Cowper paid to his publication, nor the city, to which I myself am in reality a stranger, for depressive malady with which he was afflicted, the sake of winning their attention to more useful could divert his attention from the all-important matter. I cannot endure the thought, for a moment, concerns of religion. A tone of deep seriousness, that you should descend to my level on the occasion, and genuine Christian feeling, pervades many of and court their favor in a style not more unsuitable his letters written about this time. To Mr. Newton to your function, than to the constant and consistent he thus writes:-"You wish you could employ your strain of your whole character and conduct. Though time to better purpose, yet are never idle, in all that your preface is of a serious cast, it is free from all you do; whether you are alone, or pay visits, or offensive peculiarities, and contains none of those receive them; whether you think, or write, or walk, obnoxious doctrines at which the world is too apt to or sit still, the state of your mind is such as discobe angry. It asserted nothing more than every ra- vers even to yourself, in spite of all its wanderings, tional creature must admit to be true-that divine that there is a principle at the bottom, whose deterand earthly things can no longer stand in competi- mined tendency is towards the best things. I do not tion with each other, in the judgment of any man, at all doubt the truth of what you say, when you than while he continues ignorant of their respective complain of that crowd of trifling thoughts that value; and that the moment the eyes are opened, pesters you without ceasing; but then you always the latter are always cheerfully relinquished for the have a serious thought standing at the door of your former. It is impossible for me, however, to be so imagination, like a justice of the peace, with the insensible to your kindness in writing the preface, Riot Act in his hand, ready to read it and disperse as not to be desirous of defying all contingencies, the mob. Here lies the difference between you and rather than entertain a wish to suppress it. It will me. You wish for more attention, I for less. Dis. do me honor, indeed, in the eyes of those whose sipation itself would be welcome to me, so it were good opinion is worth having, and if it hurts me in not a vicious one; but however earnestly invited, it the estimation of others, I cannot help it; the fault is coy, and keeps at a distance. Yet with all this is neither yours nor mine, but theirs. If a minis-distressing gloom upon my mind, I experience, as ter'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."

you do, the slipperiness of the present hour, and the rapidity with which time escapes me. Every thing around us, and every thing that befalls us, constitutes a variety, which, whether agreeable or otherwise, has still a thievish propensity; and steals from us days, months, and years, with such unparalleled suddenness, that even while we say they are here, they are gone. From infancy to manhood, is rather a tedious period, chiefly, I suppose, because at that time we act under the control of others, and are not suffered to have a will of our own. But thence downward into the vale of years is such a declivity, that we have just an opportunity to reflect upon the steepness of it, and then find ourselves at the bottom."

Cowper's first volume was published in the spring of 1782. Its success, at first, fell far short of what might have been anticipated from its extraordinary merit. It was not long, however, before the more intelligent part of the reading public appreciated its value. It soon found its way into the hands of all lovers of literature. Abounding with some of the finest passages that are to be met with, either in ancient or modern poetry, it was impossible that it should remain long unnoticed. By mere readers of taste, it was read for the beauty and elegance of The following extracts from his correspondence its composition; by many, it was eagerly sought with Mr. Unwin, who at that time was on a visit at after for the sprightliness, vivacity, and wit, with Brightelmstone, will show the deep tone of seriouswhich it abounded; by Christians, of all denomina-ness that pervaded his mind:-"I think with you, tions, it was read with unfeigned pleasure for the that the most magnificent object under heaven is striking and beautiful descriptions it contained of the great deep; and cannot but feel an unpolite doctrinal, practical, and experimental Christianity. species of astonishment, when I consider the multiIt would scarcely be supposed that the author of a tudes that view it without emotion, and even withvolume of poems like this, exhibiting such a diver-out reflection. In all its varied forms, it is an ob sity of powers as could not fail to charm the mind, delight the imagination, and improve the heart, could have remained, during the whole time he was composing it, in a state of great and painful depression. Such, however, was the peculiarity of Cow

ject, of all others, the most suitable to affect us with lasting impressions of the awful power that created and controls it. I am the less inclined to think this negligence excusable, because at a time of ife when I gave as little attention to religion as anv

The following beautiful lines convey sentiments so much in unison with this extract, that we cannot forbear to insert them at the close of this chap ter:

"I am no preacher: let this hint suffice,

man, I yet remember that the waves would preach | I call it solecism, because mercy deserved ceases to to me, and that in the midst of worldly dissipation be mercy, and must take the name of justice. This I had an ear to hear them. In the fashionable is the opinion which I said, in my last, the world amusements which you will probably witness for a would not acquiesce in, but except this, I do not time, you will discern no signs of sobriety, or true recollect that I have introduced a syllable into any wisdom. But it is impossible for a man who has a of my pieces that they can possibly object to; and mind like yours, capable of reflection, to observe even this I have endeavored to deliver from docthe manners of a multitude without learning some- trinal dryness, by as many pretty things, in the way thing. If he sees nothing to imitate, he is sure to of trinket and plaything, as I could muster upon see something to avoid. If nothing to congratulate the subject. So that if I have rubbed their gums, his fellow-creatures upon, at least much to excite I have taken care to do it with a coral, and even his compassion. There is not, I think, so melan-that coral embellished by the ribbon to which it is choly a sight in the world, (an hospital is not to be attached, and recommended by the tinkling of all compared to it,) as that of a multitude of persons, the bells I could contrive to annex to it." distinguished by the name of gentry, who, gentle perhaps by nature, and made more gentle by education, have the appearance of being innocent and inoffensive, yet being destitute of all religion, or not at all governed by the religion they profess, are none of them at any great distance from an eternal state, where self-deception will be impossible, and where amusements cannot enter. Some of them we may hope will be reclaimed; it is most probable that many will, because mercy, if one may be allowed the expression, is fond of distinguishing itself by seeking its objects among the most desperate class; but the Scripture gives no encouragement to the warmest charity, to expect deliverance for them all. When I see an afflicted and unhappy man, I say to myself, there is perhaps a man whom the world would envy, if they knew the value of his sorrows, which are possibly intended only to soften his heart, and to turn his affections towards their proper centre. But when I see or hear of a crowd of voluptuaries, who have no ears but for music, no eyes but for splendor, and no tongues but for impertinence and folly-I say, or at least I see occasion to say, this is madness-this, persisted in, must have a tragical conclusion. It will condemn you, not only as Christians, unworthy of the name, but as intelligent creatures-you know by the light of Nature, if you have not quenched it, that there is a God, and that a life like yours cannot be according to his will. I ask no pardon of you for the gravity and gloominess of these reflections, which, with others of a similar complexion, are sure to occur to me when I think of a scene of public diversion like that you have witnessed."

The cross once seen is death to every vice;
Else he that hung there suffered all his pain,
Bled, groaned, and agonized, and died in vain.
There, and there only, (though the deist rave,
And atheist, if earth bear so base a slave,)
There, and there only, is the power to save:
There no delusive hope invites despair
No mockery meets you, no deception there:
The spells and charms that blinded you before,
All vanish there, and fascinate no more."

Progress of Error.

CHAPTER IX.

Commencement of Cowper's acquaintance with Lady Austin. Ples

sure it affords him. Poetic epistle to her. Her removal to Olney. Beneficial influence of her conversational powers on Cowper's mind. Occasion of his writing John Gilpin. Lines composed at Lady Austin's request. Induced by her to commence writing The Task. Principal object he had in view in composing it. Sudden and final separation from Lady Austin. Occasional severity of his depressive malady. Hopes entertained by his friends of his ultimate recovery. His own opinion upon it. Pleasing proofs of the power of religion on his mind. Tenderness of his couscience. Serious reflections. Aversion to religious deception and pretended piety. Bigotry and intolerance, with their opposite vices, levity and indifference, deplored. Sympathy with the sufferings of the poor. Enviable condition of such of them as are pious, compared with the rich who disregard religion.

In the autumn of 1781, Cowper became acquaint

The following remarks, extracted from a letter to the same correspondent, while they serve to dis-ed with Lady Austin, whose brilliant wit and unriplay the state of his mind respecting religion, exhibit at the same time the high value which he set upon the leading truths of the gospel:-"When I wrote this poem on Truth, it was indispensably necessary that I should set forth that doctrine which I know to be true; and that I should pass, what I understood to be a just censure, upon opinions and persuasions that stand in direct opposition to it; because, though some errors may be innocent, and even religious errors are not always dangerous, yet in a case where the faith and hope of a Christian are concerned, they must necessarily be destructive; and because neglecting this, I should have betrayed my subject; either suppressing what in my judgment is of the last importance, or giving countenance, by a timid silence, to the very evils it was my design to combat. That you may understand me better, I will subjoin, that I wrote that poem on purpose to inculcate the eleemosynary character of the gospel, dispensation of mercy, in the most absolute sense of the word, to the exclusion of all claims of merit on the part of the receiver; consequently to set the brand of invalidity upon the plea of works, and to discover, upon scriptural ground, the absurdity of that notion, which includes a solecism in The very terms of it, that man by repentance and ood works may deserve the mercy of his Maker.

as a

valled conversational powers, were admirably adapted to afford relief to a mind like his. This lady was introduced to the retired poet by her sister, the wife of a clergyman, who resided at Clifton, a mile distant from Olney, and who occasionally called upon Mrs. Unwin. Lady Austin came to pass some time with her sister, in the summer of 1781, and Mrs. Unwin, at Cowper's request, invited the ladies to tea. So much, however, was he averse to the company of strangers, that after he had occasioned the invitation, it was with considerable reluctance he was persuaded to join the party; but having at length overcome his feelings, he entered freely into conversation with Lady Austin, and derived so much benefit from her sprightly and animating discourse, that he from that time cultivated her acquaintance with the greatest attention. The opinion Cowper formed of this accomplished and talented lady, may be ascertained by the following extracts from his letters:-"Lady Austin has paid us her first visit, and not content with showing us that proof of her respect, made handsome apologies for her intrusion. She is a lively, agreeable woman; has seen much of the ways of the world, and accounts it a great simpleton, as it is. She laughs, and makes laugh without seeming to labor at it. She has many features in her character which you must ad

reception of Lady Austin, and she took possession of it towards the close of 1782. Both Cowper and Mrs. Unwin were so charmed with her society, and she was so delighted with theirs, that it became their custom to dine together, at each other's houses, every alternate day. The effect of Lady Austin's almost irresistible conversational powers proved highly beneficial to the poet's mind, and contributed to remove that painful depression of which he still continued to be the subject, and which would sometimes seize him when he was in her company: even with her unrivalled talents, she was scarcely able, at times, to remove the deep and melancholy gloom which still shed its darkening influence over his mind. On one occasion, when she observed him to be sinking into rather an unusual depression, she exerted, as she was invariably accustomed to do, her utmost ability to afford him immediate relief. It occurred to her she might then probably accomplish it, by telling him a story of John Gilpin, which she had treasured up in her memory from her childhood. The amusing incidents of the story itself, and the happy manner in which it was related, had the desired effect; it dissipated the gloom of the passing hour, and he informed Lady Austin the next morning, that convulsions of laughter, brought on by the recollection of her story, had kept him awake during the greater part of the night, and that he had composed a poem on the subject. Hence arose the fascinating and amusing ballad of John Gilpin, which rapidly found its way into all the periodical publications of the day, and was admired by readers of every description.

"Tis sufficient, if peace be the scope
And the summit of all our desires.

Peace may be the lot of the mind
That seeks it in meekness and love,
But rapture and bliss are confined
To the glorified spirits above!"

During the winter of 1783-4, Cowper spent the evenings in reading to these ladies, taking the liberty himself, and affording the same to them, of inaking remarks on what came under their notice. On these interesting occasions, Lady Austin displayed her enchanting, and almost magical powers, with singular effect. The conversation happened one evening to turn on blank verse, of which she had always expressed herself to be passionately fond. Persuaded that Cowper was able to produce, in this measure, a poem that would eclipse any thing he had hitherto written, she urged him to try his powers in that species of composition. He had hitherto written only in rhyme, and he felt considerable reluctance to make the attempt. After repeated solicitations, however, he promised her, if she would furnish the subject, he would comply with her request. “O!” she replied, "you can never be in want of a subject you can write upon any thing: write upon this sofa." The poet obeyed her command, and the world is thus indebted to this lady for the Task, a poem of matchless beauty and excellence, embracing almost every variety of style, and every description of subject, combining elegance and ease, with sublimity and grandeur, adapted to impress the heart with sentiments of the most exalted piety and to make its readers happy in the present life, while it excites in them earnest and longing desires after the felicity and glory of heaven.

Its happy influence on his own mind on subsequent occasions, is adverted to in the following let ter to Mr. Unwin :-"You tell me that John Gilpin made you laugh tears, and that the ladies at court In composing this exquisite poem, however, it are delighted with my poems. Much good may ought to be observed that Cowper had a higher obthey do them: may they become as wise as the wri-ject in view than merely to please Lady Austin. ter wishes them, and they will then be much happier than he! I know there is, in the greater part of the poems which make up the volume, that wisdom which cometh from above, because it was from above that I received it. May they receive it too! for whether they drink it out of the cistern, or whether it falls upon them immediately from the clouds, as it did on me, it is all one. It is the water of life, which whosoever drinketh, shall thirst no more. As to the famous horseman above mentioned, he and his feats are an inexhaustible source of amusement. At least we find them so; and seldom meet without refreshing ourselves with the recollection of them. You are perfectly at liberty to do with them as you please, and when printed, send me a copy."

Lady Austin's intercourse with Mrs. Unwin and Cowper continued, uninterupted, till near the close of 1784; and during all this time, by her sprightly, judicious, and captivating conversation, she was often the means of rousing him from his melancholy depression. To console him, she would often exelt her musical talents on the hapsichord; and at her request, he composed, among others, the following beautiful song, suited to airs she was accustomed to play:

"No longer I follow a sound,
No longer a dream I pursue;
O, happiness! not to be found,
Unattainable treasure, adieu!

I have sought thee in splendor and dress,
In the regions of pleasure and taste;
I have sought thee and seemed to possess,
But have proved thee a vision at last.

An humble ambition and hope
The voice of true wisdom inspires;

His great aim was to be useful; and, indeed, thi was his leading motive in all his productions, as is evident from the following extract from a letter to Mr. Unwin:-"In some passages of the inclosed poem, which I send for your inspection, you will observe me very satirical, especially in my second book. Writing on such subjects I could not be otherwise. I can write nothing without aiming, at least, at usefulness. It were beneath my years to do it, and still more dishonorable to my religion. I know that a reformation of such abuses as I have censured is not to be expected from the efforts of a poet; but to contemplate the world, its follies, its vices, its indifference to duty, and its strenuous attachment to what is evil, and not to reprehend it, were to approve it. From this charge at least I shall be clear, for I have neither tacitly nor expressly flattered either its characters or its customs. My principal purpose has been to allure the reader by character, by scenery, by imagery, and such poetical embellishments, to the reading of what may profit him. Subordinately to this, to combat that predilection in favor of a metropolis, that beggars and exhausts the country, by evacuating it of all its principal inhabitants; and collaterally, and as far as is consistent with this double intention, to have a stroke at vice, vanity, and folly, wherever I find them. What there is of a religious cast in the volume I have thrown towards the end of it, for two reasons: first, that I might not revolt the reader at his entrance; and, secondly, that my best impressions might be made last. Were I to write as many volumes as Lopez de Vega, or Voltaire, not one of them would be without this tincture. If the world like it not, so much the worse for them. I make all the concessions I can that I may please them, but I will not do this at the expense of my conscience. My descriptions are all from nature; not one of them second-handed. My delin

eations of the heart are from my own experience; | yet rejoicing, pierced with thorns, yet wreathed not one of them borrowed from books, or in the least about with roses: I have the thorn without the degree conjectural."

The close of the year 1784, witnessed the completion of this extensive performance, and the commencement of another of greater magnitude, though of a different description, and less adapted for general usefulness-the translation of Homer; undertaken at the united request of Mrs. Unwin and Lady Austin. This was a remarkable period in Cowper's life. Circumstances arose, altogether unfore-dy for me. I have been lately more dejected and seen by him, and over which he had no control, which led to the removal of Lady Austin from Olney. He had so often been benefited by her company, had in so many instances been cheered by her vivacity when suffering under the influence of his depressive malady, and had received such repeated proofs of affability and kindness, that he could not entertain the thought of parting with her without considerable disquietude. Immediately, however, on perceiving that separation became requisite for the maintenance of his own peace, as well as to insure the tranquillity of his faithful and long-tried inmate, Mrs. Unwin, he wisely and firmly took such steps as were necessary to promote it, though it was at the expense of much mental anguish.

Some of Cowper's biographers have unjustly, and without the slightest foundation, attempted to cast considerable odium upon the character of Mrs. Unwin, for her conduct in this affair, as if all the blame of Cowper's separation from Lady Austin were to be laid at her door. One has even gone so far as to state, that her mind was of such a sombre hue, that it rather tended to foster than to dissipate Cowper's melancholy: an assertion utterly incapable of proof, and which, were the poet living, he would be the first to deny. The fact is, Cowper never felt any other attachment to either of these ladies than that of pure friendship, and much as he valued the society of Lady Austin, when he found it necessary for his own peace, to choose which he should please to retain, he could not hesitate for a moment to prefer the individual who had watched over him with so much tenderness, and probably to the injury of her own health. The whole of his conduct in this affair, and indeed the manner in which he has every where spoken of his faithful inmate, proves this indubitably.

rose. My brier is a wintry one; the flowers are withered, but the thorn remains. My days are spent in vanity, and it is impossible for me to spend them otherwise. No man upon earth is more sensible of the unprofitableness of such a life as mine than I am, or groans more heavily under the burden; but this too is vanity: my groans will not bring the remedy, because there is no rememore depressed than usual; more harassed by dreams in the night, and more deeply poisoned by them in the following day. I know not what is portended by an alteration for the worse after eleven years of misery, but firmly believe that it is not designed as the introduction of a change for the better. You know not what I suffered while you were here, nor was there any need you should. Your friendship for me would have made you in some degree a partaker of my woes, and your share in them would have been increased by your inability to help me. Perhaps, indeed, they took a keener edge, from the consideration of your presence. The friend of my heart, the person with whom I had formerly taken sweet counsel, no longer useful to me as a minister, no longer pleasant to me as a Christian, was a spectacle which must necessarily add the bitterness of mortification to the sadness of despair. I now see a long winter before me, and am to get through it as I can: I know the ground before I tread upon it. It is hollow; it is agitated; it suffers shocks in every direction: it is like the soil of Calabria-all whirlpool and undulation: but I must reel through it, at least if I be not swallowed up by the way. I have taken leave of the old year, and parted with it just when you did, but with very different sentiments and feelings upon the occasion. I looked back upon all the passages and occurrences of it as a traveller looks back upon a wilderness, through which he has passed with weariness and sorrow of heart, reaping no other fruit of his labor than the poor consolation, that, dreary as the desert was, he left it all behind him. The traveller would find even this comfort considerably lessened, if as soon as he passed one wilderness, he had to traverse another of equal length, and equally desolate. In this particular, his experience and mine would exactly tally. I should rejoice indeed that the old year is over and gone, if I had not every reason to expect a new one similar to it. Even the new year is already old in my account. I am not, indeed, sufficiently second-sighted to be able to boast, by anticipation, an acquaintance with the events of it yet unborn, but rest assured that, be they what they may, not one of them comes a messenger of good to me. If even death itself should be of the number, he is no friend of mine: it is an alleviation of the woes, even of an unenlightened man, that he can wish for death, and indulge a hope, at least, that in death he shall find deliverance. But, loaded as my life is with despair, I have no such comfort as would result from a probability of better things to come were it once ended. I am far more unhappy than the traveller I have just referred to; pass through whatever difficulties, danIt might be imagined, from the production of Cow-gers, or afflictions, I may, I am not a whit nearer per's pen at this period, that he was entirely recovered from his depressive malady; such, however, was far from the case. His letters to his correspondents prove, that whatever gaiety and vivacity there was in his writings, there was nothing in his own state of mind that bore any resemblance to such emotions; but that, on the contrary, his fits of melancholy were frequent, and often painfully acute. To his friend, Mr. Newton, he thus feelingly discloses his peculiarly painful sensations:-" My heart resembles not the heart of a Christian, mourning and

Aware of the benefit he had received from Lady Austin's company, many of his friends were apprehensive that her removal would be attended with consequences seriously injurious to the poet. Deep, however, as was the impression which it made upon his mind, he bore it with much more fortitude than could have been expected, as will be seen by the manner in which he adverted to it in a letter to Mr. Hill:-"We have, as you say, lost a lively and sensible neighbor in Lady Austin, but we have been so long accustomed to a state of retirement, within one degree of solitude, and being naturally lovers of still life, we can relapse into our former duality without being unhappy in the change. To me, indeed, a third individual is not necessary, while I can have the faithful companion I have had these twenty years."

home, unless a dungeon be called so. This is no very agreeable theme, but in so great a dearth of subjects to write upon, and especially impressed as I am at this moment with a sense of my own condition, I could choose no other. The weather is an exact emblem of my mind in its present state. A thick fog envelops every thing, and at the same time it freezes intensely. You will tell me, that this cold gloom will be succeeded by a cheerful spring, and endeavor to encourage me to hope for a spiritual change resembling it; but it will be lost labor. Na