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Stanhope, dean of Canterbury, who, from his name, the same with that of Mr Cotton's mother, is conjectured to have been distantly allied to the family.

The above are the most remarkable particulars that at this time are recoverable of the life of Mr Cotton. His moral character is to be collected, and indeed does naturally arise, out of the several sentiments contained in his writings; more especially those in the Collection of his Poems above mentioned, which, consisting of all such verses of his as the publishers could get together, as, namely, Eclogues, Odes, and Epistles to his Friends, and Translations from Ausonius, Catullus, Martial, Mons. Maynard, Corneille, Benserade, Guarini, and others,-if perused with a severe and indiscriminating eye, may perhaps be thought to reflect no great credit on his memory; for many of them are so inexcusably licentious, as to induce a suspicion that the author was but too well practised in the vices of the town : and yet it may be said of the book, that it contains the only good poems he ever wrote.

It is true that, for the looseness of his writings, and, if we may judge by them, of his manners, he deserves censure: but, at the same time, it is to be noted, that he was a warm and steady friend, and a lover of such as he thought more worthy than himself; of which last quality, his attachment to Mr Walton affords the clearest proof.

Nor did it derogate from the character of honest old Izaak, to contract and cherish an intimacy with one who, being of the cavalier party, might have somewhat of the gallant, not to say the rake, in him, and be guilty of some of those practices which it was the employment of Izaak's life and writings to discountenance. Mr Cotton was both a wit and a scholar; of an open, cheerful, and hospitable temper; endowed with fine talents for conversation, and the courtesy and affability of a gentleman; and was, withal, as great a proficient in the art, as a lover of the recreation, of angling; these qualities, together with the profound reverence which he uniformly entertained for his father, Walton, could not but endear him to the good old man, whose charitable practice it was, to resolve all the deviations from that rule of conduct which he had prescribed himself, not into vicious inclination, but error.

But notwithstanding this creditable connection, and the qualities above ascribed to him, Mr Cotton's moral character must appear very ambiguous to any one that shall reflect

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on the subjects by him chosen for the exercise of his poetical talent,—a burlesque of an epic poem-a version of the most licentious of Lucian's dialogues — and a ludicrous delineation of some of the most stupendous works of nature, - in all which we meet with such foul imagery, such obscene allusions, such offensive descriptions, such odious comparisons, such coarse sentiment, and such filthy expression, as could only proceed from a polluted imagination, and tend to excite loathing and contempt.

On the other hand, there are, in his Poems on several Occasions, verses, to ladies in particular, of so courtly and elegant a turn, that, bating their incorrectness, they might vie with many of Waller and Cowley:* others there are, that bespeak him to have had a just sense of honour, loyalty, and moral rectitude; as do these that follow, penned by him with a view to preserve the memory of a deceased friend : +

Virtue, in those good times that bred good men,

No testimony craved of tongue or pen;
No marble columns nor engraven brass,
To tell the world that such a person was;
For then each pious act, to fair descent,
Stood for the worthy owner's monument:
But in this change of manners and of states,

Good names, though writ in marble, have their fates;
Such is the barbarous and irreverent rage

That arms the rabble of this impious age.

Yet may this happy stone, that bears a name
Such as no bold survivor dares to claim,

*It is not only for their courtly and elegant turn that the verses of Charles Cotton ought to be praised, there is such a delightful flow of feeling and sentiment, so much of the best parts of our nature mixed up in them, and so much fancy displayed, that one of our most distinguished living poets has adduced several passages of his Ode upon Winter, for a general illustration of the characteristics of fancy. "The middle part of this Ode contains a most lively description of the entrance of Winter, with his retinue, as a 'palsied king,' and yet a military monarch, advancing for conquest with his army, the several bodies of which, and their arms and equipments, are described with a rapidity of detail, and a profusion of fanciful comparisons, which indicate, on the part of the poet, extreme activity of intellect, and a correspondent hurry of delightful feeling." This recommendation from the hand of Wordsworth, will make the reader anxious to become acquainted with a volume, which, though stained with some peculiarities of the age in which the poet lived," ought yet to form a part of all future collections of English poetry.

66

On a monument of Robert Port, Esq. in the church of Ilam, in the county of Stafford.

To ages yet unborn, unblemish'd stand,
Safe from the stroke of an inhuman hand.
Here, reader! here a poet's sad relics lie,
To teach the careless world mortality;
Who while he mortal was, unrivall❜d stood,
The crown and glory of his ancient blood;
Fit for his prince's and his country's trust;
Pious to God, and to his neighbour just;
A loyal husband to his latest end,

A gracious father and a faithful friend;
Beloved he lived, and died o'ercharged with years,
Fuller of honour than of silver hairs.

And, to sum up his virtues, this was he

Who was what all we should, but cannot be.

To this it may be added, that in sundry parts of his writings, and even in his poems, the evidences of piety in the author are discernible: among them is a paraphrase on that noble and sublime hymn, the eighth Psalm. And in the poem entitled Stanzes Irreguliers, are the following lines:

:

Dear Solitude! the soul's best friend,

That man acquainted with himself dost make,
And all his Maker's wonders to intend;
With thee I here converse at will,

And would be glad to do so still,

For it is thou alone that keep'st the soul awake.

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And lastly, in the following book, he, in the person Piscator, thus utters his own sentiment of a practice which few that love fishing, and have a sense of decorum, not to say of religion, would in these days of licence forbear! "A worm is so sure a bait at all times that, excepting in a flood, I would I had laid a thousand pounds that I did not kill fish, more or less, with it, winter or summer, every day in the year; those days always excepted that upon a more serious account always ought so to be:"* whence it is but just to infer, that the delight he took in fishing was never a temptation with him to profane the Sabbath.

The inconsistences above pointed out, we leave the perusers of his various writings to reconcile; with this remark, that he must have possessed a mind well stored with ideas, and habituated to reflections, who could write such verses as immediately follow this account, and, in many respects, have been an amiable man, whom Walton could choose for his friend, and adopt for his son.-J. H.

*Note- Chap. xi.

ΤΟ

MY MOST WORTHY FATHER AND FRIEND,

MR IZAAK WALTON, THE ELDER.

SIR,- Being you were pleased, some years past, to grant me your free leave to do what I have here attempted; and observing you never retract any promise when made in favour of your meanest friends, I accordingly expect to see these following particular directions for the taking of a Trout, to wait upon your better and more general rules for all sorts of angling. And though mine be neither so perfect, so well digested, nor indeed so handsomely couched, as they might have been, in so long a time as since your leave was granted, yet I dare affirm them to be generally true: and they had appeared, too, in something a neater dress, but that I was surprised with the sudden news of a sudden new edition of your Complete Angler; so that, having but a little more than ten days' time to turn me in, and rub up my memory, (for in truth, I have not, in all this long time, though I have often thought on 't, and almost as often resolved to go presently about it,) I was forced, upon the instant, to scribble what I here present you, which I have also endeavoured to accommodate to your own method. And, if mine be clear enough for the honest brothers of the angle readily to understand, (which is the only thing I aim at,) then I have my end; and shall need to make no farther apology; a writing of this kind not requiring (if I were master of any such thing) any eloquence to set it off or recommend it; so that if you, in your better judgment, or kindness rather, can allow it passable for a thing of this nature, you will then do me honour if the cipher fixed and carved in the front of my little fishing-house may be here explained: and to permit me to attend you in public, who, in private, have ever been, am, and ever resolve to be,

SIR,

Your most affectionate son and servant,

BERESFORD,

10th of March, 1675-6.

CHARLES COTTON.

ΤΟ

MY MOST HONOURED FRIEND,

CHARLES COTTON, ESQ.

SIR,

You now see I have returned you your very pleasant and useful discourse of The Art of Fly Fishing, printed just as it was sent me; for I have been so obedient to your desires, as to endure all the praises you have ventured to fix upon me in it. And when I have thanked for them, as the effects of an undissembled love, then, let me tell you, sir, that I will really endeavour to live up to the character you have given of me, if there were no other reason, yet for this alone, that you, that love me so well, and always think what you speak, may not, for my sake, suffer by a mistake in your judgment.

And, sir, I have ventured to fill a part of your margin, by way of paraphrase, for the reader's clearer understanding the situation both of your fishing-house, and the pleasantness of that you dwell in. And I have ventured also to give him a Copy of Verses that you were pleased to send me, now some years past, in which he may see a good picture of both; and so much of your own mind, too, as will make any reader, that is blessed with a generous soul, to love you the better. I confess, that for doing this you may justly judge me too bold: if you do, I will say so too; and so far commute for my offence, that, though I be more than a hundred miles from you, and in the eighty-third year of my age, yet I will forget both, and next month begin a pilgrimage to beg your pardon; for I would die in your favour, and till then will live,

SIR,

Your most affectionate Father, * and Friend,
IZAAK WALTON.

LONDON, April 29, 1676.

* It was a practice with the pretended masters of the Hermetic science, to adopt favourite persons for their sons, to whom they imparted their secrets. Ashmole, in his Diary, p. 25, says, "Mr Backhouse told me, I must now needs be his son, because he had communicated so many secrets to me." And a little after, p. 27, My father Backhouse, lying sick in Fleet street, told me, in syllables, the true matter of the philosopher's stone, which he bequeathed to me as a legacy." See more of this practice, and of the tremendous solemnities with which the secret was communicated, in Ashmole's Theat. Chem. Brit. p. 440.

And, in imitation of this practice, Ben Jonson adopted several persons his sons, to the number of twelve or fourteen; among whom were Cartwright, Randolph, and Alexander Brome. And it should seem, by the text, that Walton followed the above mentioned examples, by adopting Cotton for his son.

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