TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. MY DEAR FRIEND, laurel, and so much the more for the credit of those who have favoured him with their suffrages. I am entirely of your mind respecting this conWeston, Nov. 5, 1793. flagration by which all Europe suffers at present, IN a letter from Lady Hesketh, which I received and is likely to suffer for a long time to come. not long since, she informed me how very pleasant- The same mistake seems to have prevailed as in ly she had spent some time at Wargrave. We the American business. We then flattered ournow begin to expect her here, where our charms selves that the colonies would prove an easy conof situation are perhaps not equal to yours, yet by quest: and when all the neighbour nations armed no means contemptible. She told me she had themselves against France, we imagined I believe spoken to you in very handsome terms of the that she too would be presently vanquished. But country round about us, but not so of our house, we begin already to be undeceived, and God only and the view before. The house itself however knows to what a degree we may find we have is not unworthy some commendation; small as it erred, at the conclusion. Such however is the is, it is neat, and neater than she is aware of; for state of things all around us, as reminds me conmy study and the room over it have been repaired tinually of the Psalmist's expression-" He shall and beautified this summer, and little more was break them in pieces like a potter's vessel."—And wanting to make it an abode sufficiently commo- I rather wish than hope in some of my melanchodious for a man of my moderate desires. As ly moods that England herself may escape a fracto the prospect from it, that she misrepresented ture. I remain truly yours, W. C. strangely, as I hope soon to have an opportunity to convince her by ocular demonstration. She told you, I know, of certain cottages opposite to us, or rather she described them as poor houses and hovels that effectually blind our windows. Weston, Nov. 24, 1793. But none such exist. On the contrary, the oppo- THOUGH my Congratulations have been delayed, site object, and the only one, is an orchard, so well you have no friend, numerous as your friends are, planted, and with trees of such growth, that we who has more sincerely rejoiced in your success seem to look into a wood, or rather to be sur- than I! It was no small mortification to me to rounded by one. Thus, placed as we are in the find that three out of the six, whom I had enmidst of a village, we have none of the disagreea-gaged, were not qualified to vote. You have` prebles that belong to such a position, and the village vailed, however, and by a considerable majority; itself is one of the prettiest I know; terminated at one end by the church tower, seen through trees, and at the other, by a very handsome gateway, opening into a fine grove of elms, belonging to our neighbour Courtenay. How happy should I be to show it instead of describing it to you! Adieu, my dear friend, W. C. TO THE REV. MR. HURDIS. there is therefore no room left for regret. When your short note arrived, which gave me the agreeable news of your victory, our friend of Eartham was with me, and shared largely in the joy that I felt on the occasion. He left me but a few days since, having spent somewhat more than a fortnight here; during which time we employed all our leisure hours in the revisal of his Life of Milton. It is now finished, and a very finished work TO THE REV. WALTER BAGOT. it is; and one that will do great honour, I am persuaded, to the biographer, and the excellent man, MY DEAR FRIEND, Weston, Nov. 10, 1793. of injured memory, who is the subject of it. As You are very kind to consider my literary en- to my own concern, with the works of this first of gagements, and to make them a reason for not poets, which has been long a matter of burtheninterrupting me more frequently with a letter; but some contemplation, I have the happiness to find though I am indeed as busy as an author or an at last that I am at liberty to postpone my labours. editor can well be, and am not apt to be overjoyed While I expected that my commentary would be at the arrival of letters from uninteresting quar- called for in the ensuing spring, I looked forward ters, I shall always I hope have leisure both to to the undertaking with dismay, not seeing a shaperuse and to answer those of my real friends, and dow of probability that I should be ready to anto do both with pleasure. swer the demand. For this ultimate revisal of my I have to thank you much for your benevolent Homer, together with the notes, occupies comaid in the affair of my friend Hurdis. You have pletely at present (and will for some time longer) doubtless learned ere now, that he has succeeded, all the little leisure that I have for study: leisure and carried the prize by a majority of twenty. He which I gain at this season of the year by rising is well qualified for the post he has gained. So long before day-light. much the better for the honour of the Oxonian You are now become a nearer neighbour, and, as your professorship, I hope, will not engross side out for the inspection of all who choose to inyou wholly, will find an opportunity to give me spect it, to make a secret of his face seems but lityour company at Weston. Let me hear from tle better than a self contradiction. At the same you soon, tell me how you like your new office, time, however, I shall be best pleased if it be kept, and whether you perform the duties of it with according to your intentions, as a rarity. pleasure to yourself. With much pleasure to others you will, I doubt not, and with equal advantage. TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. W. C. I have lost Hayley, and begin to be uneasy at not hearing from him: tell me about him when you write. I should be happy to have a work of mine embellished by Lawrence, and made a companion for a work of Hayley's. It is an event to which I look forward with the utmost complacence. I can not tell you what a relief I feel it, not to be pressed for Milton. W. C. TO SAMUEL ROSE, ESQ. Weston, Dec. 8, 1793. In my last I forgot to thank you for the box of books, containing also the pamphlets. We have read, that is to say, my cousin has, who reads to us in an evening, the history of Jonathan Wild, great men is witty, and I believe perfectly just: we have no censure to pass on it, unless that we think the character of Mrs. Heart free not well sustained; not quite delicate in the latter part of it; and that the constant effect of her charms upon every man who sees her has a sameness in it that is tiresome, and betrays either much carelessness, or idleness, or lack of invention. It is possible indeed that the author might intend by this circumstance a satirical glance at novelists, whose heroines are generally all bewitching; but it is a fault that he had better have noticed in another manner, and not have exemplified in his own. MY DEAR FRIEND, Weston, Nov. 29, 1793. I HAVE risen while the owls are still hooting, to pursue my accustomed labours in the mine of Homer; but before I enter upon them, shall give the first moment of daylight to the purpose of thanking you for your last letter, containing many pleasant| articles of intelligence, with nothing to abate the MY DEAR FRIEND, pleasantness of them, except the single circumstance that we are not likely to see you here so soon as I expected. My hope was, that the first frost would bring you, and the amiable painter with you. If however you are prevented by the and found it highly entertaining. The satire on business of your respective professions, you are well prevented, and I will endeavour to be patient. When the latter was here, he mentioned one day the subject of Diomede's horses, driven under the axle of his chariot by the thunderbolt which fell at their feet, as a subject for his pencil. It is certainly a noble one, and therefore worthy of his study and attention. It occurred to me at the moment, but I know not what it was that made me forget it again the next moment, that the horses of Achilles flying over the foss, with Patroclus and Automedon in the chariot, would be a good companion for it. Should you happen to recollect this, when you next see him, you may submit it, if you please, to The first volume of Man as he is, has lain unhis consideration. I stumbled yesterday on ano-read in my study window this twelvemonth, and ther subject, which reminded me of said excellent would have been returned unread to its owner, had artist, as likely to afford a fine opportunity to the not my cousin come in good time to save it from expression that he could give it. It is found in that disgrace. We are now reading it, and find the shooting match in the twenty-third book of the it excellent: abounding with wit, and just sentiIliad, between Meriones and Teucer. The former ment, and knowledge both of books and men. cuts the string with which the dove is tied to the Adieu. mast-head, and sets her at liberty; the latter standing at his side, in all the eagerness of emulation, points an arrow at the mark with his right hand, while with his left he snatches the bow from his competitor. He is a fine poetical figure, but Mr. Lawrence himself must judge whether or not he promises as well for the canvass. W.C.. TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. Weston, Dec. 8, 1793. I HAVE waited, and waited impatiently, for a line from you, and am at last determined to send you one, to inquire what is become of you, and why you are silent so much longer than usual. He does great honour to my physiognomy by his intention to get it engraved; and though I think I foresee that this private publication will grow in I want to know many things which only you time into a publication of absolute publicity, I find can tell me, but especially I want to know what it impossible to be dissatisfied with any thing that has been the issue of your conference with Nichol. seems eligible both to him and you. To say the Has he seen your work? I am impatient for the truth, when a man has once turned his mind in-appearance of it, because impatient to have the spotless credit of the great poet's character, as a tious!" A superstitious fidelity loses the spirit, man and a citizen, vindicated as it ought to be, and a loose deviation the sense of the translated and as it never will be again. author-a happy moderation in either case is the only possible way of preserving both. It is a great relief to me that my Miltonic labours are suspended. I am now busy in tran- Thus have I disciplined you both; and now, if scribing the alterations of Homer, having finished you please, you may both discipline me. I shall the whole revisal. I must then write a new Pre-not enter my version in my book till it has underface, which done I shall endeavour immediately to gone your strictures at least; and should you write descant on The Four Ages. Adieu, my dear bro-to the noble critic again, you are welcome to subther. W. C. TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ. mit it to his. We are three awkward fellows indeed, if we can not amongst us make a tolerably good translation of six lines of Homer. Adieu. W.C. Weston, Dec. 17, 1793. O Jove! and all ye Gods! grant this my son And may his mother's heart o'erflow with joy! ESQ. TO WILLIAM HAYLEY, MY DEAR HAYLEY, Weston, Jan. 5, 1794. I HAVE waited, but waited in vain, for a propitious moment, when I might give my old friend's objections the consideration they deserve; I shall at last be forced to send a vague answer, unwor thy to be sent to a person accustomed, like him, to close reasoning and abstruse discussion, for I rise after ill rest, and with a frame of mind perfectly unsuited to the occasion. I sit too at the window for light's sake, where I am so cold, that my pen slips out of my fingers. First, I will give you a translation de novo of this untranslated prayer. It is shaped as nearly as I could contrive to his lordship's ideas, but I have little hope that it will satisfy him. I ROSE this morning, at six o'clock, on purpose to translate this prayer again, and to write to my dear brother. Here you have it, such as it is, not perfectly according to my own liking, but as well as I could make it, and I think better than either yours, or Lord Thurlow's. You with your six lines have made yourself stiff and ungraceful, and he with his seven has produced as good prose as heart can wish, but no poetry at all. A scrupulous attention to the letter has spoiled you both, you have neither the spirit nor the manner of HoGrant Jove, and ye Gods, that this my son Be, as myself have been, illustrious here! mer. A portion of both may be found I believe A valiant man! and let him reign in Troy; in my version, but not so much as I wish-it is May all who witness his return from fight better however than the printed one. His lord- Hereafter, say he far excels his sire; ship's two first lines I can not very well underAnd let him bring back gory trophies, stript stand; he seems to me to give a sense to the oriFrom foes slain by him, to his mother's joy. ginal that does not belong to it. Hector, I appre- Imlac, in Rasselas, says-I forget to whom, hend, does not say, "Grant that he may prove "You have convinced me that it is impossible to himself my son, and be eminent, &c.-but grant be a poet." In like manner, I might say to his that this my son may prove eminent"-which is a lordship, you have convinced me that it is imposmaterial difference. In the latter sense I find the sible to be a translator; to be a translator, on his simplicity of an ancient; in the former, that is to terms, at least, is I am sure impossible. On his say, in the notion of a man proving himself his terms I would defy Homer himself, were he father's son by similar merit, the finesse and dex- alive, to translate the Paradise Lost into Greek. terity of a modern. His lordship too makes the Yet Milton had Homer much in his eye when he man, who gives the young hero his commenda- composed that poem. Whereas Homer never tion, the person who returns from battle; whereas thought of me or my translation. There are miHomer makes the young hero himself that person, nutiæ in every language, which transfused into at least if Clarke is a just interpreter, which I sup- another will spoil the version. Such extreme pose is hardly to be disputed. fidelity is in fact unfaithful. Such close resemIf my old friend would look into my preface, he blance takes away all likeness. The original is would find a principle laid down there, which per- elegant, easy, natural; the copy is clumsy, conhaps it would not be easy to invalidate, and which strained, unnatural: To what is this owing? To properly attended to would equally secure a trans- the adoption of terms not congenial to your purlation from stiffness and from wildness. The pose, and of a context, such as no man writing an principle I mean is this "Close, but not so close original work would make use of. Homer is every as to be servile! free, but not so free as to be licen- thing that a poet should be. A translation of Ho I have not had time to criticise his lordship's other version. You know how little time I have for any thing, and can tell him so. mer, so made, will be every thing that a translation of Homer should not be. Because it will be written in no language under Heaven. It will be English, and it will be Greek, and therefore it will Adieu! my dear brother. I have now tired both be neither. He is the man, whoever he be (I do you and myself; and with the love of the whole not pretend to be that man myself,) he is the man trio, remain Yours ever, W.C. best qualified as a translator of Homer, who was drenched, and steeped, and soaked himself in the Reading his lordship's sentiments over again, I effusions of his genius till he has imbibed their am inclined to think that in all I have said, I have colour to the bone; and who, when he is thus only given him back the same in other terms. He dyed through and through, distinguishing between disallows both the absolute free, and the absolute what is essentially Greek, and what may be habit-close-so do I; and, if I understand myself, have ed in English, rejects the former, and is faithful to said so in my Preface He wishes to recommend the latter, as far as the purpose of fine poetry will a medium, though he will not call it so; so do I; permit, and no further; this I think, may be easily only we express it differently. What is it then proved. Homer is every where remarkable either we dispute about? My head is not good enough for ease, dignity, or energy of expression; for to-day to discover. grandeur of conception, and a majestic flow of numbers. If we copy him so closely as to make every one of these excellent properties of his absolutely unattainable, which will certainly be the effect of too close a copy, instead of translating, we DEAR COUSIN, Mundsley, Oct. 13, 1798. murder him. Therefore, after all that his lordship You describe delightful scenes, but you describe has said, I still hold freedom to be indispensable. them to one, who if he even saw them, could reFreedom, I mean with respect to the expression: ceive no delight from them: who has a faint refreedom so limited, as never to leave behind the matter: but at the same time indulged with a sufficient scope to secure the spirit, and as much as possible of the manner. I say as much as possible, because an English manner must differ from a Greek one, in order to be graceful, and for this there is no remedy. Can an ungraceful, awkward translation of Homer be a good one? No. But a graceful, easy, natural, faithful version of him, will| not that be a good one? Yes. Allow me but this, and I insist upon it, that such an one may be produced on my principles, and can be produced on no other. TO LADY HESKETH. collection, and so faint, as to be like an almost forgotten dream, that once he was susceptible of pleasure from such causes. The country that you have had in prospect has been always famed for its beauties; but the wretch who can derive no gratification from a view of nature, even under the disadvantage of her most ordinary dress, will have no eyes to admire her in any. In one day, in one minute, I should rather have said, she became an universal blank to me; and though from a different cause, yet with an effect as difficult to remove, as blindness itself. * THE END OF COWPER'S WORKS. |