You were not, I hope, out on any of your charitable excursions in the late dreadful thunder and lightning—a spectacle which I find always treated with surprising levity. I had an aunt who always locked herself into some closet or press—I believe, that the lightning might not find her out. Are we not a little in the opposite extreme, when we avow feeling no apprehension whatever of what may bring the severest infliction, and is always expected to accompany that day which must come at some time, and may come at any time? You will say I am writing de la pluie et du beau temps; but I see so little upon earth that I must go to the atmosphere for subjects.
I am reading Hayley’s Life—flat and pompous, but with green spots. According to his own statement, he was but an indifferent husband; and I think I can spy out he was not much better as a son. He, or his biographer—for it is a sort of partnership—is ever making demands on your wonder, and introducing the commonest circumstance as a remarkable incident. All that relates to Cowper is of course interesting.
Town is extremely thin; but the cricket-ground to-day was a gay and pretty sight, a certain number of the families and friends of the Harrow and Eton players having attended; just enough to embellish, not crowd, the scene. Twenty-two of the flower of English youth, dressed in plain white, in different attitudes of swiftness exertion or repose, on English verdure, all enjoyment and animation, under the temperate beauty of a summer sky just veiled by light clouds, had a very Elysian appearance; and as the words of the players were inaudible to us, though at no great distance, there was a sweet stillness, almost silence, just broken by their quiet tread and the gentle applause of the lookers on.
TO MRS. HAYGARTH.
Elton Hall, Oct., 1823.
Mr. T. has returned to me after a pleasant visit to Ireland. He described the journey and passage as so improved by fine roads and those prosaic conveyances, the steam-boats, as to be now quite a party of pleasure. He saw nothing new in Ireland, but the fearful increase of our hungry and idle population, appearing to baffle all hope of finding employment commensurate with their numbers, and proving the truth of that expressive phrase, that the attempt is like the race of the tortoise with the hare; but alas! not likely to be so successful. He was glad, however, to see more just opinions prevalent on the subject, in all ranks, than heretofore, and to find that all agreed as to the willingness of the people to work, and the impropriety, except in extreme and rare cases, of giving them charity in any shape but that of employment.
Mr. Haygarth is not, I hope, satisfied with Rose’s opening of Ariosto. I own I never did nor could read the original work through, nor took any pains to conquer my reluctance; as by snatching the beautiful passages, which everyone is ready to point out, one avoids all which is said to be offensive. But I have always admired the grace and dignity of the enumeration of the first stanza, the attention so beautifully awakened by the procession of lofty images in the most musical verse; and vulgarizing this down, as Rose has done, to
‘Of loves and ladies, knights and arms, I sing,’