spirits this morning, but still insisting on it that to advance in her recovery. So in fact she does, she is better. Indeed she always tells me so, and and has performed several little feats to-day, such will probably die with those very words upon her as either she could not perform at all, or very lips. They will be true then at least, for then she feebly, while you were with us. will be best of all. She is now (the clock has just struck eleven) endeavouring, I believe, to get a little sleep, for which reason I do not yet let her know that I have received your letter. Can I ever honour you enough for your zeal to serve me? Truly I think not: I am however so sensible of the love I owe you on this account, that I every day regret the acuteness of your feelings for me, convinced that they expose you to much I shall be glad if you have seen Johnny, as I call him, my Norfolk cousin; he is a sweet lad, but as shy as a bird. It costs him always two or three days to open his mouth before a stranger; but when he does, he is sure to please by the innocent cheerfulness of his conversation. His sister too is one of my idols, for the resemblance she bears to my mother. TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. Mary and you have all my thoughts; and how trouble, mortification, and disappointment. I have should it be otherwise? She looks well, is better, in short a poor opinion of my destiny, as I told and loves you dearly. Adieu, my brother. W. C. you when you were here; and though I believe that if any man living can do me good, you will, I can not yet persuade myself that even you will be successful in attempting it. But it is no matter, you are yourself a good which I can never value, enough, and whether rich or poor in other respects, I shall always account myself better provided for do may prosper; and should I at last prosper by than I deserve, with such a friend at my back as your means, shall taste double sweetness in prosyou. Let it please God to continue to me my perity for that reason. William and Mary, and I will be more reasonable than to grumble. I rose this morning wrapped round with a cloud of melancholy, and with a heart full of fears; but if I see Mary's amendment a little advanced when she rises, I shall be better. I have just been with her again. Except that she is fatigued for want of sleep, she seems as well as yesterday. The post brings me a letter from Hurdis, who is broken-hearted for a dying sister. Had we eyes sharp enough, we should see the arrows of Death flying in all directions, and account it a wonder that we and our friends escape them a single day. W.C. TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. I DO indeed anxiously wish that every thing you I rose this morning, as I usually do, with a mind all in sables. In this mood I presented myself to Mary's bedside, whom I found, though after many hours lying awake, yet cheerful, and not to be affected with my desponding humour. It is a great blessing to us both that, poor feeble thing as she is, she has a most invincible courage, and a trust in God's goodness that nothing shakes. She is now in the study, and is certainly in some degree better than she was yesterday, but how to measure that little I know not, except by saying that it is just perceptible. I am glad that you have seen my Johnny of Norfolk, because I know it will be a comfort to you to have seen your successor. He arrived, to my great joy, yesterday; and not having bound himself to any particular time of going, will, I hope, stay long with us. You are now once more snug Weston, June 7, 1792. in your retreat, and I give you joy of your return Or what materials can you suppose me made, to it, after the bustle in which you have lived since if after all the rapid proofs that you have given me you left Weston. Weston mourns your absence, of your friendship, I do not love you with all my and will mourn it till she sees you again. What heart, and regret your absence continually? But is to become of Milton I know not; I do nothing you must permit me nevertheless to be melancholy but scribble to you, and seem to have no relish now and then; or if you will not, I must be so for any other employment. I have however in without your permission; for that sable thread is pursuit of your idea to compliment Darwin, put a so intermixed with the very thread of my existence, few stanzas* together, which I shall subjoin; you as to be inseparable from it, at least while I exist will easily give them all that you find they want. in the body. Be content therefore; let me sigh and match the song with another. and groan, but always be sure that I love you! I am now going to walk with Johnny, much You will be well assured that I should not have cheered since I began writing to you, and by MaIndulged myself in the rhapsody about myself, and ry's looks and good spirits. my melancholy, had my present mood been of that complexion, or had not our poor Mary seemed still 25 W.C. TO LADY HESKETH. MY DEAREST COZ, bids me say, "that should I do so, you in revenge Weston, June 11, 1792. THOU art ever in my thoughts, whether I am writing to thee or not; and my correspondence seems to grow upon me at such a rate, that I am With my poor patient's affectionate rememnot able to address thee so often as I would. In brances, and Johnny's, fact, I live only to write letters. Hayley is as you see added to the number, and to him I write almost as duly as I rise in the morning; nor is he only added, but his friend Carwardine also-Carwardine the generous, the disinterested, the friendly. I seem in short to have stumbled suddenly on a race of heroes, men who resolve to have no interests of their own till mine are served. * * I am ever thine, W. C. TO WILLIAM HALEY, ESQ. Weston, June 19, 1792. THUS have I filled a whole page to my dear William of Eartham, and have But I will proceed to other matters, that concern not said a syllable yet about my Mary. A sure me more intimately, and more immediately, than sign that she goes on well. Be it known to you all that can be done for me either by the great or that we have these four days discarded our sedan the small, or by both united. Since I wrote last, with two elbows. Here is no more carrying, or Mrs. Unwin has been continually improving in being carried, but she walks up stairs boldly, with strength, but at so gradual a rate that I can only one hand upon the balustrade, and the other under mark it by saying that she moves about every my arm, and in like manner she comes down in day with less support than the former. Her re- morning. Still I confess she is feeble, and misses covery is most of all retarded by want of sleep. On much of her former strength. The weather too the whole I believe she goes on as well as could be is sadly against her: it deprives her of many a expected, though not quite well enough to satisfy good turn in the orchard, and fifty times have I me. And Dr. Austin, speaking from the reports I have made of her, says he has no doubt of her restoration. a wished this very day, that Dr. Darwin's scheme of giving rudders and sails to the Ice-islands, that spoil all our summers, were actually put in pracDuring the last two months, I seem to myself to tice. So should we have gentle airs instead of have been in a dream. It has been a most event- churlish blasts; and those everlasting sources of ful period, and fruitful to an uncommon degree, bad weather being once navigated into the southboth in good and evil. I have been very ill, and ern hemisphere, my Mary would recover as fast suffered excruciating pain. I recovered, and be- again. We are both of your mind respecting the came quite well again. I received within my doors journey to Eartham, and think that July, if by a man, but lately an entire stranger, and who now that time she have strength for the journey, will loves me as his brother, and forgets himself to serve be better than August. We shall have more Mrs. Unwin has been seized with an illness long days before us, and them we shall want as that for many days threatened to deprive me of her, much for our return as for our going forth. This and to cast a gloom, an impenetrable one, on all however must be left to the Giver of all good. If my future prospects. She is now granted to me our visit to you be according to his will, he will again. A few days since I should have thought smooth our way before us, and appoint the time the moon might have descended into my purse as of it; and thus I speak, not because I wish to likely as any emolument, and now it seems not seem a saint in your eyes, but because my poor impossible. All this has come to pass with such Mary actually is one, and would not set her foot rapidity as events move with in romance indeed, but not often in real life. Events of all sorts creep or fly exactly as God pleases. me. To the foregoing I have to add in conclusion the arrival of my Johnny, just when I wanted him most, and when only a few days before I had no expectation of him. He came to dinner on Saturday, and I hope I shall keep him long. What comes next I know not; but shall endeavour, as you exhort me, to look for good, and I know i shall have your prayers that I may not be disappointed. over the threshold, to save her life, unless she had, TO WILLIAM HALEY, ESQ. Weston, June 27, 1792. WELL then let us talk about this journey to Haley tells me you begin to be jealous of him, Eartham. You wish me to settle the time of it, best I should love him more than I love you, and and I wish with all my heart to be able to do so, living in hopes meanwhile that I shall be able to do it soon. But some little time must necessarily TO WILLIAM HALEY, ESQ. intervene. Our Mary must be able to walk alone, Weston, July 15, 1792. to cut her own food, to feed herself, and to wear THE progress of the old nurse in Terence is very her own shoes, for at present she wears mine. much like the progress of my poor patient in the All things considered, my friend and brother, you road of recovery. I can not indeed say that she will see the expediency of waiting a litle before moves, but advances not, for advances are cerwe set off to Eartham. We mean indeed before tainly made, but the progress of a week is hardly that day arrives to make a trial of the strength of perceptible. I know not therefore at present what her head, how far it may be able to bear the mo- to say about this long postponed journey. The tion of a carriage, a motion that it has not felt utmost that it is safe for me to say at this moment these seven years. I grieve that we are thus cir- is this-You know that you are dear to us both; cumstanced, and that we can not gratify ourselves true it is that you are so, and equally true that in a delightful and innocent project without all the very instant we feel ourselves at liberty we these precautions; but when we have leaf-gold to will fly to Eartham. I have been but once within handle, we must do it tenderly. the Hall door since the Courtenays came home, I thank you, my brother, both for presenting much as I have been pressed to dine there, and my authorship to your friend Guy, and for the ex- have hardly escaped giving a little offence by decellent verses with which you have inscribed your clining it; but though I should offend all the world present. There are none neater or better turned by my obstinacy in this instance, I would not leave -with what shall I requite you? I have nothing my poor Mary alone. Johnny serves me as a reto send you but a gimcrack, which I have pre- presentative, and him I send without scruple. As pared for my bride and bridegroom neighbours, to the affair of Milton, I know not what will bewho are expected to-morrow. You saw in my come of it. I wrote to Johnson a week since, to book a poem entitled Catharina, which concluded tell him that the interruption of Mrs. Unwin's with a wish that we had her for a neighbour; this illness still continuing, and being likely to contherefore is called Catharina; the second part. tinue, I knew not when I should be able to proOn her marriage to George Courtenay, Esq.* TO WILLIAM HALEY, ESQ. Weston, July 4, 1792. cced. The translations (I said) were finished, except the revisal of a part. God bless your dear little boy and poet! I thank him for exercising his drawing genius upon me, and shall be still happier to thank him in person. Abbot is painting me so true That (trust me) you would stare, I KNOW not how you proceed in your life of Milton, but I suppose not very rapidly, for while you were here, and since you left us, you have had I have sat twice; and the few, who have seen the no other theme but me. As for myself, except copy of me, are much struck with the resemmy letters to you, and the nuptial song I inserted blance. He is a sober, quiet man, which, consiin my last, I have literally done nothing since I dering that I must have him at least a week saw you. Nothing I mean in the writing way, longer for an inmate, is a great comfort to me. though a great deal in another; that is to say, in My Mary sends you her best love. She can attending my poor Mary, and endeavouring to walk now, leaning on my arm only, and her nurse her up for a journey to Eartham. In this speech is certainly much improved. I long to see I have hitherto succeeded tolerably well, and had you. Why can not you and dear Tom spend the rather carry this point completely, than be the remainder of the summer with us? We might most famous editor of Milton that the world has then all set off for Eartham merrily together. ever seen, or shall see. But I retract this, conscious that I am unreasonaYour humorous descant upon my art of wish-ble. It is a wretched world, and what we would, ing made us merry, and consequently did good to is almost always what we can not. Adieu! Love me, and be sure of a return. us both. I sent my wish to the Hall yesterday. • See Poems. W. C. TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. Weston, July 22, 1792. THIS important affair, my dear brother, is at last decided, and we are coming. Wednesday we'n night, if nothing occur to make a later day neces- | der much more that I still courageously persevere sary, is the day fixed for our journey. Our rate in my resolution to undertake it. Fortunately for of traveling must depend on Mary's ability to bear my intentions, it happens that as the day approachit. Our mode of traveling will occupy three days es my terrors abate; for had they continued to be unavoidably, for we shall come in a coach. Ab- what they were a week since, I must after all have bot finishes my picture to-morrow; on Wednesday disappointed you; and was actually once on the he returns to town, and is commissioned to order one down for us, with four steeds to draw it; "Hollow pamper'd jades of Asia, That can not go but forty miles a day." verge of doing it. I have told you something of my nocturnal experiences, and assure you now that they were hardly ever more terrific than on this occasion. Prayer has, however, opened my pas fidence that I trust will prove a comfortable viaticum to me all the way. On Wednesday, therefore, we set forth. Send us our route, for I am as ignorant of it al-sage at last, and obtained for me a degree of conmost as if I were in a strange country. We shall reach St. Alban's I suppose the first day; say where we must finish our second day's journey, and at what inn we may best repose? As to the end of the third day, we know where that will find us, viz. in the arms, and under the roof of our be-you are a reasonable creature, and know well that loved Hayley. The terrors that I have spoken of would appear ridiculous to most; but to you they will not, for to whatever cause it be owing (whether to constiGeneral Cowper, having heard a rumour of this tution, or by God's express appointment) I am intended migration, desires to meet me on the road, hunted by spiritual hounds in the night season. I that we may once more see each other. He lives can not help it. You will pity me, and wish it at Ham, near Kingston. Shall we go through were otherwise; and though you may think that Kingston, or near it? For I would give him as there is much of the imaginary in it, will not deem little trouble as possible, though he offers very kind- it for that reason an evil less to be lamentedly to come as far as Barnet for that purpose. Ner So much for fears and distresses. Soon I hope must I forget Carwardine, who so kindly desired they shall all have a joyful termination, and I, my to be informed what way we should go. On what Mary, my Johnny, and my dog, be skipping with point of the road will it be easiest for him to find delight at Eartham! us? On all these points you must be my oracle. | Well! this picture is at last finished, and wel My friend and brother, we shall overwhelm you finished, I can assure you. Every creature that with our numbers; this is all the trouble that I has seen it has been astonished at the resemblance have left. My Johnny of Norfolk, happy in the Sam's boy bowed to it, and Beau walked up to it, thought of accompanying us, would be broken-wagging his tail as he went, and evidently showhearted to be left behind. ing that he acknowledged its likeness to his mas In the midst of all these solicitudes I laugh to ter. It is a half length, as it is technically, but think what they are made of, and what an impor- absurdly called; that is to say, it gives all but the tant thing it is for me to travel. Other men steal foot and ankle. To-morrow it goes to town, and away from their homes silently, and make no dis- will hang some months at Abbot's, when it will be turbance; but when I move, houses are turned sent to its due destination in Norfolk. upside down, maids are turned out of their beds, I hope, or rather wish, that at Eartham I may all the counties through which I pass appear to be recover that habit of study, which, inveterate as it in an uproar-Surry greets me by the mouth of once seemed, I now seem to have lost-lost to such the General, and Essex by that of Carwardine. a degree that it is even painful to me to think of How strange does all this seem to a man who has seen no bustle, and made none, for twenty years together. Adieu. W. C. TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. Weston, July 29, 1792. Through floods and flames to your retreat, I win my desp'rate way, And when we meet, if e'er we meet, Will echo your huzza! what it will cost me to acquire it again. Adieu! my dear, dear Hayley; God give us a happy meeting. Mary sends ber love-She is pretty good plight this morning, having slept well, and for her part has no fears at all about the jour Ever yours, W. C. ney. TO THE REV. MR. GREA'I HEED. MY DEAR SIR, Eartham, Aug. 6, 1792. You will wonder at the word desp'rate in the HAVING first thanked you for your affectionate second line, and at the if in the third; but could and acceptable letter, I will proceed, as well as I you have any conception of the fears I have had can, to answer your equally affectionate request to battle with, of the dejection of spirits that I have that I would send you early news of our arrival at suffered concerning this journey, you would won- Eartham. Here we are in the most elegant man sion that I have ever inhabited, and surrounded by suffering as we went all that could be suffered the most delightful pleasure grounds that I have from excessive heat and dust, we found ourselves ever seen; but which, dissipated as my powers of late in the evening at the door of our friend Haythought are at present, I will not undertake to de- ley. In every other respect the journey was exscribe. It shall suffice me to say that they occu-tremely pleasant. At the Mitre in Barnet, where py three sides of a hill, which in Buckinghamshire we lodged the first evening, we found our friend might well pass for a mountain, and from the sum- Mr. Rose, who had walked thither from his house mit of which is beheld a most magnificent landscape in Chancery-lane to meet us; and at Kingston, bounded by the sea, and in one part of it by the where we dined the second day, I found my old Isle of Wight, which may also be seen plainly from and much valued friend General Cowper, whom I the window of the library in which I am writing. had not seen in thirty years, and but for this jourIt pleased God to carry us both through the journey should never have seen again. Mrs. Unwin, ney with far less difficulty and inconvenience than on whose account I had a thousand fears before we I expected. I began it indeed with a thousand set out, suffered as little from fatigue as myself fears, and when we arrived the first evening at and begins I hope already to feel some beneficial Barnet, found myself oppressed in spirit to a de-effects from the air of Eartham, and the exercise gree that could hardly be exceeded. I saw Mrs. that she takes in one of the most delightful pleaUnwin weary, as she might well be, and heard sure-grounds in the world. They occupy three such a variety of noises, both within the house and sides of a hill, lofty enough to command a view of without, that I concluded she would get no rest. the sea, which skirts the horizon to a length of But I was mercifully disappointed. She rested, many miles, with the Isle of Wight at the end of it. though not well, yet sufficiently; and when we The inland scene is equally beautiful, consisting finished our next day's journey at Ripley, we were of a large and deep valley well cultivated, and enboth in better condition, both of body and mind, closed by magnificent hills, all crowned with wood. than on the day preceding. At Ripley we found I had, for my part, no conception that a poet could a quiet inn, that housed, as it happened, that night, be the owner of such a Paradise; and his house is no company but ourselves. There we slept well, as elegant as his scenes are charming. and rose perfectly refreshed. And except some But think not, my dear Catharina, that amidst terrors that I felt at passing over the Sussex hills all these beauties I shall lose the remembrance of by moonlight, met with little to complain of till we the peaceful, but less splendid Weston. Your arrived about ten o'clock at Eartham. Here we precincts will be as dear to me as ever, when I reare as happy as it is in the power of terrestrial turn; though when that day will arrive I know good to make us. It is almost a Paradise in which not, our host being determined, as I plainly sec, to we dwell; and our reception has been the kindest keep us as long as possible. Give my best love to that it was possible for friendship and hospitality your husband. Thank him most kindly for his to contrive. Our host mentions you with great attention to the old bard of Greece, and pardon me respect, and bids me tell you that he esteems you that I do not send you now an epitaph for Fop. I highly. Mrs. Unwin, who is, I think, in some am not sufficiently recollected to compose even a points, already the better for her excursion, unites bagatelle at present; but in due time you shall rewith mine her best compliments both to yourself ceive it. and Mrs. Greatheed. I have much to see and enjoy before I can be perfectly apprised of all the delights of Eartham, and will therefore now subscribe myself, Yours, my dear sir, with great sincerity, W. C. Hayley, who will some time or other I hope sce you at Weston, is already prepared to love you both, and being passionately fond of music, longs much to hear you. Adieu! W. C. TO MRS. COURTENAY. Eartham, August 12, 1792. MY DEAREST CATHARINA, TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. MY DEAR FRIEND, Eartham, Aug. 14, 1792. ROMNEY is here; it would add much to my hap piness if you were of the party; I have prepared THOUGH I have traveled far, nothing did I see Hayley to think highly, that is justly of you, and the time I hope will come, when you will supersede all need of my recommendation. in my travels that surprised me half so agreeably as your kind letter; for high as my opinion of your good-nature is, I had no hopes of hearing from you Mrs. Unwin gathers strength. I have indeed till I should have written first. A pleasure which great hopes from the air and exercise which this I intended to allow myself the first opportunity. fine season affords her opportunity to use, that ere After three days' confinement in a coach, and we return she will be herself again. W.C |