One of his letters contains a most graphic description of how he and Mrs. Unwin, returning from a ramble, fell in with the hounds, and, climbing the broad stump of an elm in order to have a better view of the proceedings, were actually in ‘at the death.’ It is delightful to think of the poet and his Mary in such unexpected circumstances, for they seem both to have been much excited. ‘And thus, dear cousin,’ as Virgil says, ‘what none of the gods would have ventured to promise me, time, of its own accord, has presented me with.’
A letter to his friend Mr. Hill proves how much pleasure a visit from the Dowager Lady Spencer had afforded him. This remarkable woman, the daughter of Stephen Poyntz, a distinguished diplomate, was the widow of the first Earl Spencer, and mother of the beautiful Duchess of Devonshire. She had made a long détour to call on the poet, whose works she much admired. And he says: ‘She is one of the first women in the world; I mean in point of character and accomplishments. If my translation prove successful, I may perhaps receive some honours hereafter, but none I shall esteem more highly than her approbation. She is indeed worthy to whom I should dedicate, and may my Odyssey prove as worthy of her.’
At length the happy hour arrived: Homer was translated and ready for the press. The Iliad was dedicated to his young relative, Earl Cowper, and the Odyssey to the Dowager Countess Spencer.
He expressed himself well satisfied with his publisher, Johnson. ‘I verily believe that, though a bookseller, he has the soul of a gentleman! Such strange combinations sometimes happen.’ We give an extract from a letter which he wrote on the conclusion of his Homeric labours to his amanuensis, Johnny Johnson: ‘Dearest Johnny: now I can give you rest and joy,—joy of your resting from all your labours, in my service. But I can foretell that, if you go on serving your friends at this rate, your life will indeed be one of labour. Yet persevere; your rest will be all the sweeter hereafter; in the meantime I wish you (whenever you need him) just such a friend as you have been to me.’
He was very much attached to Johnny, and it was in allusion to his young kinsman that he said: ‘I agree with Lavater, “Looks are as legible as books, take less time to peruse, and are less likely to deceive.”’ Johnny did the poet a good turn, for it was he who suggested to his aunt, Mrs. Bodham, what a welcome present it would be if she sent Cowper his mother’s picture,—a subject to which we have already alluded.
When Homer was concluded, Mrs. Unwin was most anxious that he should undertake some new work, which would occupy his thoughts for some considerable time. She dreaded the effect of idleness, or of the mere desultory composition of occasional poems. And therefore she rejoices that he has been prevailed upon to edit a magnificent edition of Milton, to translate all his Latin and Italian poems, to select the best notes of former commentators, and to add annotations of his own. It was a wholesome task, though occasionally, under the pressure of nervous dejection, Cowper cavilled at what he called the ‘Miltonic trap.’ Mrs. Unwin, who had lately become enfeebled, had had a bad fall, but fortunately escaped with some bruises, when one day she was seized with giddiness, and would have again fallen to the ground, had not Cowper saved her. There could be little doubt the attack was of a paralytic nature, though her companion would not allow himself to utter the fearful word. In this hour of utmost need an invaluable friend was raised up in the person of William Hayley, whom Southey designates as one of the most generous of men. We will let him speak for himself, by giving an extract of his first letter to Cowper, enclosing some complimentary lines. ‘Although I resisted the idea of professing my friendship and admiration, from a fear of intrusion, I cannot resist that of disclaiming an idea which I have heard has been imputed to me, of considering myself your antagonist. Allow me to say, I was solicited to write a Life of Milton before I had the least idea that you and Mr. Fuseli were engaged on a similar project.’ He concludes a most amiable letter to the man ‘whose poems have so often delighted him,’ by saying, ‘If, in the course of your work, I have any opportunity of serving and obliging you, I shall seize it with that friendly spirit which has impelled me, both in prose and rhyme, to assure you that I am your most cordial admirer.’ And thus, out of what might have proved a misunderstanding, began that intercourse which lasted Cowper’s life, and soothed his latter days.
Speaking of Hayley’s visit to Weston, he says: ‘Everybody here has fallen in love with him—and everybody must. We have formed a friendship which will, I hope, last for life, and prove an edifying example to all future poets.’ Hayley, on his part, writing to his friend Romney, the painter, describes at length the welcome he had received at Weston, his delight in Cowper’s society; and then as to the grand article of females,—‘for what is a scene without a woman in it? Here is a Muse of seventy, whom I perfectly adore; the woman who, for so many years, has devoted her time and fortune to the service of this tender and sublime genius. Not many days after this letter was written, the two authors were returning from a morning ramble, when the news met them that Mrs. Unwin had had a second paralytic stroke. Cowper rushed forward into the house, and returned in such a state of agitation as made Hayley tremble for his reason; ‘but, by the blessing of God, I was able to quiet him in a great measure, and from that moment he rested on my friendship, and regards me as providentially sent to support him in a season of deepest affliction.’
Cowper will not accept his cousin’s proposal to come to Weston; for he wishes his dear Harriet’s visits thither to be made for pleasure. Mrs. Unwin’s health improved. ‘It is a blessing to us both, that, poor feeble thing as she is, she has an invincible courage. She always tells me she is better, and probably will die saying so; and then it will be true, for then she will be best of all.’ Hayley, before, and since leaving Weston, had urged Cowper to pay him a visit at what his friends called his ‘little paradise’ at Eartham, on the south coast, as soon as Mrs. Unwin’s state would allow her to travel. It must have seemed a tremendous undertaking for those who had not strayed further than a thirteen miles’ drive for upwards of thirteen years! But Cowper believed the change of air might benefit his invalid; and that determined him.
In the interim he writes to his friend, Mr. Bull: ‘How do you think I have been occupied the last few days? In sitting, not on cockatrice’s eggs, but for my picture. Cousin Johnny has an aunt who is seized with a desire to have my portrait, and so the said Johnny has brought down an artist.’
To Hayley he writes:—