till the middle of November, and on the day after her departure, her cousin and Mrs. Unwin took possession of their new abode. COWPER AT WESTON. CHAPTER XIV. MR. UNWIN'S DEATH. RETURN OF OLD FRIENDSHIPS RENEWED, AND NEW "THERE are some things," said Cowper to Mr. Bagot', who was now one of his regular correspondents, "that do not actually shorten the life of a man, yet seem to do so, and frequent removals from place to place are of that number. For my own part, at least, I am apt to think, if I had been more stationary, I should seem to myself to have lived longer. My many changes of habitation have divided my time into many short periods, and when I look back upon them they appear only as the stages in a day's journey, the first of which is at no very great distance from the last. 'I lived longer at Olney than any where. There indeed, I lived, till mouldering walls and a tottering house warned me to depart. I have accordingly taken the hint, and two days since arrived, or rather took up my abode at Weston. You, perhaps, have never made the experiment, but I can assure you that the confusion which attends a transmigration of this kind is infinite, and has a terrible effect in deranging the intellects. I have been obliged to renounce my Homer on the occasion, and though not for many days, I feel as if study and meditation, so long my confirmed habits, were on a sudden become impracticable, and that I shall certainly find them so when I attempt them again. But in a scene so much quieter and pleasanter than that which I have just escaped from, in a house so much more commodious, and with furniture about me so much more to my taste, I shall hope to recover my literary tendency again, when once the bustle of the occasion shall have subsided. "How glad I should be to receive you under a roof, where you would find me so much more comfortably accommodated than at Olney! I know your warmth of heart toward me, and am sure that you would rejoice in my joy. At present, in 1 Nov. 17, 1786. deed, I have not had time for much self-gratulation, but have every reason to hope, nevertheless, that in due time I shall derive considerable advantage, both in health and spirits, from the alteration made in my whereabout." On the same day he announced his removal to Mr. Newton. "When God speaks to a chaos," said he, "it becomes a scene of order and harmony in a moment; but when his creatures have thrown one house into confusion by leaving it, and another by tumbling themselves and their goods into it, not less than many days' labour and contrivance is necessary to give them their proper places. And it belongs to furniture of all kinds, however convenient it may be in its place, to be a nuisance out of it. We find ourselves here in a comfortable dwelling. Such it is in itself; and my cousin, who has spared no expense in dressing it up for us, has made it a genteel one. Such, at least, it will be when its contents are a little harmonized. She left us on Tuesday, and on Wednesday in the evening Mrs. Unwin and I took possession. I could not help giving a last look to my old prison and its precincts; and though I cannot easily account for it, having been miserable there so many years, felt something like a heart-ache when I took my last leave of a scene, that certainly in itself had nothing to engage affection. But I recollected that I had once been happy there, and could not, without tears in my eyes, bid adieu to a place in which God had so often found me. human mind is a great mystery; mine, at least, appeared to me to be such upon this occasion. I found that I not only had a tenderness for that ruinous abode, because it had once known me happy in the presence of God; but that even the distress I had suffered for so long a time, on account of his absence, had endeared it to me as much. I was weary of every object, had long wished for a change, yet could not take leave without a pang at parting. What consequences are to attend our removal, God only knows. The I know well that it is not in situation to effect a cure of melancholy like mine. The change, however, has been entirely a providential one; for much as I wished it, I never uttered that wish, except to Mrs. Unwin. When I learned that the house was to be let, and had seen it, I had a strong desire that Lady Hesketh should take it for herself, if she should happen to like the country. That desire, indeed, is not exactly fulfilled; and yet, upon the whole, is exceeded. We are the tenants; but she assures us that we shall often have her for a guest; and here is room enough for us all. You, I hope, my dear friend, and Mrs. Newton, will want no assurances to convince you that you will always be received here with the sincerest welcome. More welcome than you have been, you cannot be; but better accommodated you may and will be." They had been little more than a fortnight in their new habitation, before they received an account of Mr. Unwin's being dangerously ill, and this was speedily followed by tidings of his death. Mr. Henry Thornton, with whom he was travelling, had been seized with a typhus fever at Winchester, and recovered from it; Unwin took the infection, and to him it proved fatal. He was a man of sincere but sober piety, and of considerable talents, which he had carefully improved. His disposition was cheerful, his affections warm and constant, and his manners singularly amiable;.. one of those rare persons who are liked at first sight, and loved in proportion as they are known. Cowper was not the only distinguished author who consulted him upon his writings; his old tutor, Paley, had the same high opinion of his judgement, and manifested it by the same proof. At Lady Hesketh's recommendation, the guardians of her late husband's heir, being very desirous of finding a tutor who would train him up conscientiously and wisely in the way he should go, had just concluded an arrangement for placing him with Mr. Unwin. "It is well for his mother," said Cowper, "that she has spent her life in the practice of an habitual acquiescence in the dispensations of Providence; else, I know that this stroke would have been heavier, after all that she has suffered upon another account, than she could have borne"." "She suffers this stroke, not with more patience and submission than I expected, for I never knew her hurried by any affliction into the loss of either, but in appearance, at least, and at present with less injury to her health than I apprehended 3." Cowper himself appeared to suffer less than those who knew his love for the deceased might have expected. Alexander Knox has observed, "that the difference between the letters written to Mr. Newton and to Unwin is particularly striking;" that "there is regard and estimation in the one; friendship, 2 To Lady Hesketh, Dec. 4. 3 To Mr. Smith, Dec. 9. 66 genuine, and vivid, in the other." Like the mother, Cowper controlled his feelings; but the sorrow which she sustained with the composure of a mind habitually subdued, he made an effort to throw off. She," said he, derives, as she well may, great consolation from the thought, that he lived the life and died the death of a Christian. The consequence is, if possible, more unavoidable than the most mathematical conclusion, that therefore he is happy. So farewell, my friend Unwin! the first man for whom I conceived a friendship after my removal from St. Albans, and for whom I cannot but still continue to feel a friendship, though I shall see thee with these eyes no more!" To Mr. Newton, he said that it was a subject on which he could say much, and with much feeling, but that, habituated as his mind had been these many years to melancholy themes, he was glad to excuse himself the contemplation of them as much as possible; and he could not think of the widow and children whom Mr. Unwin had left without an heart-ache such as he never remembered to have felt before 5. He applied himself to the revision of his Homer, and in his letters to his cousin resumed that playful manner which rendered them so delightful. But it soon appeared that he had reckoned upon more strength than he possessed. "I have not touched Homer to-day," he says, (the fifth after he had announced his friend's decease to Lady Hesketh. "Yesterday was one of my terrible seasons, and when I arose this morning, I found that I had not sufficiently recovered myself to engage in such an occupation. Having letters to write, I the more willingly gave myself a dispensation.-Good night!" Two days after, he says, "the cloud that I mentioned to you, my cousin, has passed away,- —or perhaps the skirts of it may still hang over me. I feel myself, however, tolerably brisk, and tell you so because I know you will be glad to hear it. The grinners at John Gilpin little dream what the author sometimes suffers. How I hated myself yesterday for having ever wrote it! May God bless thee, my dear! Adieu "." But the cloud which he hoped had passed away was again gathering. "Once since we left Olney," says he to Mr. *Correspondence with Bishop Jebb, vol. i. p. 274. "I suppose," he adds, "there are not in the world letters equal in merit, as compositions, to those of Cowper to Unwin." 5 Dec. 16. 6 Dec. 9. 7 Dec. 11. Newton, "I had occasion to call at our old dwelling; and never did I see so forlorn and woeful a spectacle. Deserted of its inhabitants, it seemed as if it could never be dwelt in for ever. The coldness of it, the dreariness, and the dirt, made me think it no unapt resemblance of a soul that God has forsaken. While he dwelt in it, and manifested himself there, he could create his own accommodations, and give it occasionally the appearance of a palace; but the moment he withdraws, and takes with him all the furniture and embellishment of his graces, it becomes what it was before he entered it—the habitation of vermin, and the image of desolation. Sometimes I envy the living, but not much, or not long; for while they live, as we call it, they too are liable to desertion. But the dead who have died in the Lord, I envy always; for they, I take it for granted, can be no more forsaken." He was not, however, yet wholly possessed by such feelings, and seems to have pursued as wise a course of self management as the most judicious friend could have advised. Early in January (the month which he dreaded), he says to Lady Hesketh, "I have had a little nervous feeling lately, my dear, that has somewhat abridged my sleep; and though I find myself better to day than I have been since it seized me, yet I feel my head lightish, and not in the best order for writing. You will find me, therefore, not only less alert in my manner than I usually am when my spirits are good, but rather shorter: I will, however, proceed to scribble till I find that it fatigues me; and then will do, as I know you would bid me do were you here,-shut up my desk and take a walk." At this time Mr. Newton expressed his regret, that instead of the version on which he was now engaged, he had not undertaken a work of his own. He replied, "I have many kind friends, who, like yourself, wish that, instead of turning my endeavours to a translation of Homer, I had proceeded in the way of original poetry. But I can truly say that it was ordered otherwise, not by me, but by the Providence that governs all my thoughts, and directs my intentions as he pleases. It may seem strange, but it is true, that after having written a volume, in general with great ease to myself, I found it impossible to write another page. The mind of man is not a fountain, but a cistern; and mine, God knows, a broken one. 9 Jan. 13, 1787. 8 Jan. 8, 1787. It |