bringing human glory to shame, and by disap-who is a creature the most easily comforted of any pointing the expectations of those whose trust is in the world! in creatures, has signalized the present day as a We are as happy in lady Austen, and she in us, day of much human sufficiency and strength, has as ever-having a lively imagination, and being brought together from all quarters of the land the passionately desirous of consolidating all into one most illustrious men to be found in it, only that he family (for she has taken her leave of London), she may prove the vanity of idols, and that when a has just sprung a project which serves at least to great empire is falling, and he has pronounced a amuse us, and make us laugh--it is to hire Mr. sentence of ruin against it, the inhabitants, be Small's house, on the top of Clifton-hill, which is they weak or strong, wise or foolish, must fall with large, commodious, and handsome, will hold us it. I am rather confirmed in this persuasion by conveniently, and any friends who may occasionobserving that these luminaries of the state had ally favour us with a visit-the house is furnished, no sooner fixed themselves in the political heaven, but, if it can be hired without the furniture, will than the fall of the brightest of them shook all the let for a trifle-your sentiments, if you please, upon rest The arch of their power was no sooner this demarche! struck than the key-stone slipped out of its place; I send you my last frank-our best love attend those that were closest in connexion with it fol- you individually, and all together. I give you joy lowed, and the whole building, new as it is, seems of a happy change in the season, and myself also. to be already a ruin. If a man should hold this I have filled four sides in less time than two would language, who could convict him of absurdity? have cost me a week ago such is the effect of The marquis of Rockingham is minister-all the sunshine upon such a butterfly as I am. world rejoices, anticipating success in war and a glorious peace.-The marquis of Rockingham is dead-all the world is afflicted, and relapses into [ its former despondence. What does this prove, but that the marquis was their Almighty, and Yours, W. C. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. that now he is gone, they know no other? But MY DEAR FRIEND, let us wait a little, they will find another-Per whom they now represent as a devil, may obtain that honour. Thus God is forgot; and when he is, his judgments are generally his remembrancers. Aug. 3, 1782. ENTERTAINING some hope that Mr. Newton's haps the duke of Portland, or perhaps the unpopu- next letter would furnish me with the means of lar satisfying your inquiry on the subject of Dr. Johnson's opinion, I have till now delayed my answer to your last; but the information is not yet come, Mr. Newton having intermitted a week more than How shall I comfort you upon the subject of usual, since his last writing. When I receive it, your present distress? Pardon me that I find my- favourable or not, it shall be communicated to you; self obliged to smile at it, because who but your- but I am not over sanguine in my expectations self would be distressed upon such an occasion? from that quarter. Very learned and very critical You have behaved politely, and like a gentleman; heads are hard to please. He may perhaps treat you have hospitably offered your house to a stran- me with lenity for the sake of the subject and deger, who could not, in your neighbourhood at least, sign, but the composition I think will hardly eshave been comfortably accommodated any where cape his censure. Though all doctors may not else. He, by neither refusing nor accepting an be of the same mind, there is one doctor at least, offer that did him too much honour, has disgraced whom I have lately discovered, my professed adhimself, but not you. I think for the future you mirer. He too, like Johnson, was with difficulty must be cautious of laying yourself open to a stran- persuaded to read, having an aversion to all poetger, and never again expose yourself to incivilities ry, except the Night Thoughts, which on a cerfrom an archdeacon you are not acquainted with. tain occasion, when being confined on board a Though I did not mention it, I felt with you ship he had no other employment, he got by what you suffered by the loss of Miss heart. He was however prevailed upon, and I was only silent because I could minister no con- read me several times over; so that if my volume solation to you on such a subject, but what I had sailed with him, instead of Dr. Young's, 1 knew your mind to be already stored with. In- perhaps might have occupied that shelf in his deed, the application of comfort in such cases is a memory which he then allotted to the Doctor. nice business, and perhaps when best managed It is a sort of paradox, but it is true; we are might as well be let alone. I remember reading never more in danger than when we think ourinany years ago a long treatise on the subject of selves most secure, nor in reality more secure than consolation, written in French; the author's name when we seem to be most in danger. Both sides I forgot, but I wrote these words in the margin of this apparent contradiction were lately verified Special consolation! at least for a Frenchman, in my experience-Passing from the green-house · to the barn, I saw three kittens (for we have so learned, ingenious, good-natured, pious friend of many in our retinue) looking with fixed attention ours, who sometimes visits us, and whom we visit. on something, which lay on the threshold of a ed last week, has put into my hands three voldoor nailed up. I took but little notice of them at umes of French poetry, composed by Madame first, but a loud hiss engaged me to attend more Guion-a quietist say you, and a fanatic, I will closely, when behold-a viper! the largest that I have nothing to do with her 'Tis very well, remember to have seen, rearing itself, darting its you are welcome to have nothing to do with her, forked tongue, and ejaculating the aforesaid hiss but in the mean time her verse is the only French at the nose of a kitten almost in contact with his verse I ever read that I found agreeable; there is lips. I ran into the hall for a hoe with a long a neatness in it equal to that which we applaud handle, with which I intended to assail him, and with so much reason in the compositions of Prior. returning in a few seconds missed him; he was I have translated several of them, and shall progone, and I feared had escaped me. Still how-ceed in my translations, till I have filled a Lillipuever the kitten sat watching immoveably upon the tian paper-book I happen to have by me, which same spot. I concluded therefore that, sliding when filled, I shall present to Mr. Bull. He is between the door and the threshold, he had found her passionate admirer, rode twenty miles to see his way out of the garden into the yard.-I went her picture in the house of a stranger, which stranround immediately, and there found him in close ger politely insisted on his acceptance of it, and it conversation with the old cat, whose curiosity be- now hangs over his chimney. It is a striking poring excited by so novel an appearance, inclined her trait, too characteristic not to be a strong resemto pat his head repeatedly with her fore foot, with blance, and, were it encompassed with a glory, inher claws however sheathed, and not in anger, stead of being dressed in a nun's hood, might pass but in the way of philosophic inquiry and exami- for the face of an angel. nation. To prevent her falling a victim to so laudable an exercise of her talents, I interposed a moment with the hoe, and performed upon him an act of decapitation, which though not immediately mortal, proved so in the end. Had he slid into the passages, where it is dark, or had he, when in the yard, met with no interruption from the cat, and secreted himself in any of the outhouses, it is hardly possible but that some of the family must have been bitten; he might have been trodden upon without being perceived, and have slipped away before the sufferer could have distinguished what foe had wounded him. Three years ago we discovered one in the same place, which the barber slew with a trowel. Yours, W. C. TO LADY AUSTEN. To watch the storms and hear the sky Our proposed removal to Mr. Small's was, as you suppose, a jest, or rather a joco-serious matter. We never looked upon it as entirely feasible, yet we saw in it something so like practicability, that we did not esteem it altogether unworthy of our attention. It was one of those projects which MY DEAR SISTER, people of lively imaginations play with, and ad- You see my beginning-I do not know but in mire for a few days, and then break in pieces. time I may proceed even to the printing of halfLady Austen returned on Thursday from Lon-penny ballads-Excuse the coarseness of my padon, where she spent the last fortnight, and whi-per-I wasted such a quantity before I could acther she was called by an unexpected opportunity complish any thing legible, that I could not afford to dispose of the remainder of her lease. She has finer. I intend to employ an ingenious mechanic therefore no longer any connexion with the great of the town to make me a longer case; for you city, and no house but at Olney. Her abode is to be at the vicarage, where she has hired as much room as she wants, which she will embellish with aer own furniture, and which she will occupy as koon as the minister's wife has produced another child, which is expected to make its entry in October. Mr. Bull, a dissenting minister of Newport, a should drop because we are within a mile of eacè may observe that my lines turn up their tails like Dutch mastiffs, so difficult do I find it to make the two halves exactly coincide with each other. We wait with impatience for the departure of this unseasonable flood. We think of you, and talk of you, but we can do no more, till the waters subside. I do not think our correspondence other. It is but an imaginary approximation, the perfectly at liberty to deal with them as you please. flood having in reality as effectually parted us, as Auctore tantùm anonymo imprimantur; and if the British Channel rolled between us. when printed, send me a copy. Yours, my dear sister, with Mrs. Unwin's best love. Aug. 12, 1782. W. C. TO THE REV. WILLIAM BULL. Oct. 27, 1782. I congratulate you on the discharge of your duty and your conscience, by the pains you have taken for the relief of the prisoners.-You proceeded wisely, yet courageously, and deserved better success. Your labours however will be remembered elsewhere, when you shall be forgotten here; and if the poor folks at Chelmsford should never receive the benefit of them, you will yourself receive it in Mon aimable et très cher Ami, heaven. It is pity that men of fortune should be It is not in the power of chaises or chariots to determined to acts of beneficence sometimes by carry you where my affections will not follow you; popular whim, or prejudice, and sometimes by if I heard that you were gone to finish your days motives still more unworthy. The liberal subin the moon, I should not love you the less; but scription raised in behalf of the widows of the seashould contemplate the place of your abode, as men lost in the Royal George was an instance of often as it appeared in the heavens, and say the former. At least a plain, short, and sensible Farewell, my friend, for ever! Lost, but not for- letter in the newspaper convinced me at the time, gotten! Live happy in thy lantern, and smoke that it was an unnecessary and injudicious collec the remainder of thy pipes in peace! Thou art tion: and the difficulty you found in effectuating rid of earth, at least of all its cares, and so far can your benevolent intentions on this occasion, conI rejoice in thy removal; and as to the cares that strains me to think that had it been an affair of are to be found in the moon, I am resolved to sup- more notoriety than merely to furnish a few poor pose them lighter than those below-heavier they fellows with a little fuel to preserve their extremican hardly be. ties from the frost, you would have succeeded betMadame Guion is finished, but not quite tran- ter. Men really pious delight in doing good by scribed. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. MY DEAR FRIEND, Nov. 4, 1782. stealth. But nothing less than an ostentatious display of bounty will satisfy mankind in general. I feel myself disposed to furnish you with an opportunity to shine in secret. We do what we can. But that can is little. You have rich friends, are eloquent on all occasions, and know how to You are too modest; though your last consisted be pathetic on a proper one. The winter will be of three sides only, I am certainly a letter in your severely felt at Olney by many, whose sobriety, debt. It is possible that this present writing may industry, and honesty, recommend them to chariprove as short. Yet, short as it may be, it will be table notice: and we think we could tell such pera letter, and make me creditor, and you my debtor. sons as Mr. half a dozen A letter indeed ought not to be estimated by the length of it, but by the contents, and how can the contents of any letter be more agreeable than your last? -, or Mr. tales of distress, that would find their way into hearts as feeling as theirs. You will do as you see good; and we in the mean time shall remain convinced, that you will do your best. Lady Austen will no doubt do something; for she has great sensibility and compassion. Yours, my dear Unwin, W. C. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. You tell me that John Gilpin made you laugh tears, and that the ladies at court are delighted with my poems. Much good may they do them! May they become as wise as the writer wishes them, and they will be much happier than he! I know there is in the book that wisdom which, cometh from above, because it was from above that I received it. May they receive it too! For MY DEAR WILLIAM, whether they drink it out of the cistern, or whe- ON the part of the poor, and on our part, be ther it falls upon them immediately from the pleased to make acknowledgments, such as the clouds, as it did on me, it is all one. It is the occasion calls for, to our beneficent friend Mr. water of life, which whosoever drinketh shall I call him ours, because having experithirst no more. As to the famous horseman enced his kindness to myself in a former instance, above-mentioned, he and his feats are an inex- and in the present his disinterested readiness to haustible source of merriment. At least we find succour the distressed, my ambition will be satis bim So, and seldom meet without refreshing our- fied with nothing less. He may depend upon the selves with the recollection of them. You are strictest secrecy; no creature shall hear him men -. Yours, my dear William, W. C. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. MY DEAR WILLIAM, dioned, either now or hereafter, as the person from necessity-a melancholy that nothing so effectuwhom we have received this bounty. But when I ally disperses, engages me sometimes in the arduspeak of him, or hear him spoken of by others, ous task of being merry by force. And, strange which sometimes happens, I shall not forget what as it may seem, the most ludicrous lines I ever is due to so rare a character. I wish, and your wrote have been written in the saddest mood, and mother wishes it too, that he could sometimes take but for that saddest mood, perhaps had never us in his way to ; he will find us happy to been written at all. receive a person whom we must needs account it I hear from Mrs. Newton, that some great peran honour to know. We shall exercise our best sons have spoken with great approbation of a cerdiscretion in the disposal of the money; but in tain book-Who they are, and what they have this town, where the Gospel has been preached so said, I am to be told in a future letter. The many years, where the people have been favoured Monthly Reviewers in the mean time have satisso long with laborious and conscientious minis-fied me well enough. ters, it is not an easy thing to find those who make no profession of religion at all, and are yet proper objects of charity. The profane, are so profane, so drunken, dissolute, and in every respect worthless, that to make them partakers of his bounty would be to abuse it. We promise however that none shall touch it but such as are DOCTOR BEATTIE is a respectable character. I miserably poor, yet at the same time industrious account him a man of sense, a philosopher, a schoand honest, two characters frequently united here, lar, a person of distinguished genius, and a good where the most watchful and unremitting labour writer. I believe him too a Christian: with a will hardly procure them bread. We make none profound reverence for the Scripture, with great but the cheapest laces, and the price of them is fallen almost to nothing. Thanks are due to yourself likewise, and are hereby accordingly rendered, for waiving your claim in behalf of your own parishioners. You are always with them, and they are always, at least some of them, the better for your residence among them. Olney is a populous place, inhabited chiefly by the half-starved and the ragged of the earth, and it is not possible for our small party and small ability to extend their operations so far as to be much felt among such numbers. Accept therefore your share of their gratitude, and be convinced that when they pray for a blessing upon those who relieved their wants, He that answers that prayer, and when he answers, will remember his servant at Stock. zeal and ability to enforce the belief of it (both which he exerts with the candour and good manners of a gentleman;) he seems well entitled to that allowance; and to deny it him, would impeach one's own right to the appellation. With all these good things to recommend him, there can be no dearth of sufficient reasons to read his writings. You favoured me some years since with one of his volumes; by which I was both pleased and instructed: and I beg that you will send me the new one, when you can conveniently spare it, or rather bring it yourself, while the swallows are yet upon the wing; for the summer is going down apace. You tell me you have been asked, if I am intent upon another volume? I reply-not at present, not being convinced that I have met with sufficient I little thought when I was writing the history encouragement. I account myself happy in havof John Gilpin, that he would appear in print-I ing pleased a few, but am not rich enough to deintended to laugh, and to make two or three others spise the many. I do not know what sort of marlaugh, of whom you were one. But now all the ket my commodity has found, but if a slack one world laughs, at least if they have the same relish I must beware how I make a second attempt. My for a tale ridiculous in itself, and quaintly told, as bookseller will not be willing to incur a certain we have Well-they do not always laugh so in- loss; and I can as little afford it. Notwithstandnocently, and at so small an expense-for in a ing what I have said, I write, and am even now world like this, abounding with subjects for sa- writing for the press. I told you that I had transtire, and with satirical wits to mark them, a laugh lated several of the poems of Madame Guion. I that hurts nobody has at least the grace of no- told you too, or I am mistaken, that Mr. Bull develty to recommend it. Swift's darling motto was, signed to print them. That gentleman is gone to Vive la bagatelle-a good wish for a philosopher the sea-side with Mrs. Wilberforce, and will be of his complexion, the greater part of whose wis-absent six weeks. My intention is to surprise him dom, whencesoever it came, most certainly came at his return with the addition of as much more not from above. La bagatelle has no enemy in translation as I have already given him. This, me, though it has neither so warm a friend, nor however, is still less likely to be a popular work so able a one, as it had in him. If I trifle, and than my former. Men, that have no religion, merely trifle, it is because I am reduced to it by would despise it; and men, that have no religious experience, would not understand it. But the clothed, they are now enabled to maintain themstrain of simple and unaffected piety in the origi- selves. Their labour was almost in vain before; al is sweet beyond expression. She sings like an but now it answers; it earns them bread, and all angel, and for that very reason has found but few their other wants are plentifully supplied. admirers. Other things I write too, as you will I wish, that by Mr. see on the other side, but these merely for my W. C. amusement. TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN. MY DEAR WILLIAM, 's -'s assistance, your purpose in behalf of the prisoners may be effectuated. A pen so formidable as his might do much good, if properly directed. The dread of a bold censure is ten times more moving than the most eloquent persuasion. They that can not feel for others, are the persons of all the world who feel most sensibly for themselves. Yours, my dear friend, W. C. TO THE REV. JOHN NEWTON. MY DEAR FRIEND, Mr. S Feb. 8, 1783. WHEN I contemplate the nations of the earth, and their conduct towards each other, through the medium of a scriptural light, my opinions of them are exactly like your own. Whether they do good or do evil, I see them acting under the permission or direction of that Providence who governs the earth, whose operations are as irresistible as they are silent and unsuspected. So far we are perfectly agreed; and howsoever we may differ upon inferior parts of the subject, it is, as you say, an Having no frank, I can not send you Mr. affair of no great consequence. For instance, you two letters as I intended. We corresponded as think the peace a better than we deserve, and in a long as the occasion required, and then ceased. certain sense I agree with you: as a sinful nation Charmed with his good sense, politeness, and libe- we deserve no peace at all, and have reason enough rality to the poor, I was indeed ambitious of con- to be thankful that the voice of war is at any rate tinuing a correspondence with him, and told him put to silence. so. Perhaps I had done more prudently had I never proposed it. But warm hearts are not famous for wisdom, and mine was too warm to be very considerate on such an occasion. I have not heard from him since, and have long given up all expectation of it. I know he is too busy a man to have leisure for me, and ought to have recollected it sooner. He found time to do much good, and to employ us as his agents in doing it, and that might have satisfied me. Though laid under the strictest injunctions of secrecy, both by him, and by you on his behalf, I consider myself as under no obligation to conceal from you the remittances he made. Only, in my turn, I beg leave to request secrecy on your part, because, intimate as you are with MY DEAR FRIEND, him, and highly as he values you, I can not yet be sure that the communication would please him, his delicacies on this subject being as singular as his benevolence. He sent forty pounds, twenty You may think, perhaps, that having commen at a time. Olney has not had such a friend this ced poet by profession, I am always writing verses. many a day; nor has there been an instance at Not so-I have written nothing, at least finished any time of a few poor families so effectually re-nothing, since I published-except a certain facelieved, or so completely encouraged to the pursuit tious history of John Gilpin, which Mr. Unwin of that honest industry by which, their debts be- would send to the Public Advertiser. Perhaps ing paid, and the parents and children comfortably you might read it without suspecting the author -'s last child is dead; it lived a little while in a world of which it knew nothing, and has gone to another, in which it has already become wiser than the wisest it has left behind. The earth is a grain of sand, but the interests of man are commensurate with the heavens. Mrs. Unwin thanks Mrs. Newton for her kind letter, and for executing her commissions. We truly love you both, and think of you often. TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. W. C. Feb. 13 and 20, 1783. In writing to you I never want a subject. Self is always at hand, and self with its concerns is always interesting to a friend. |