Pursuits of Literature.
Eartham, Feb. 1792.
Dear Sir,—I have often been tempted, by affectionate admiration of your poetry, to trouble you with a letter; but I have repeatedly checked myself in recollecting that the vanity of believing ourselves distantly related in spirit to a man of genius is but a sorry apology for intruding on his time.
Though I resisted my desire of professing myself your friend, that I might not disturb you with intrusive familiarity, I cannot resist a desire, equally affectionate, of disclaiming an idea which I am told is imputed to me, of considering myself, on a recent occasion, as an antagonist to you. Allow me, therefore, to say, I was solicited to write a Life of Milton, for Boydell and Nichol, before I had the least idea that you and Mr. Fuseli were concerned in a project similar to theirs. When I first heard of your intention, I was apprehensive that we might undesignedly thwart each other; but, on seeing your proposals, I am agreeably persuaded that our respective labours will be far from clashing; as it is your design to illustrate Milton with a series of notes, and I only mean to execute a more candid life of him than his late biographer has given us, upon a plan that will, I flatter myself, be particularly pleasing to those who love the author as we do.
As to the pecuniary interest of those persons who venture large sums in expensive decoration of Milton, I am persuaded his expanding glory will support them all. Every splendid edition, where the merits of the pencil are in any degree worthy of the poet, will, I think, be secure of success. I wish it cordially to all; as I have a great affection for the arts, and a sincere regard for those whose talents reflect honour upon them.
To you, my dear sir, I have a grateful attachment, for the infinite delight which your writings have afforded me; and if, in the course of your work, I have any opportunity to serve or oblige you, I shall seize it with that friendly spirit which has impelled me at present to assure you, both in prose and rhyme, that I am your cordial admirer,
W. Hayley.
P.S. I wrote the enclosed sonnet on being told that our names had been idly printed together in a newspaper, as hostile competitors. Pray forgive its partial defects for its affectionate sincerity. From my ignorance of your address, I send this to your bookseller's by a person commissioned to place my name in the list of your subscribers; and let me add, if you ever wish to form a new collection of names for any similar purpose, I entreat you to honour me so far as to rank mine, of your own accord, among those of your sincerest friends. Adieu!
SONNET.