The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd,
Lets in new light thro' chinks that time has made;
Stronger by weakness, wiser men become,
As they draw near to their eternal home.
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view,
That stand upon the threshold of the new.
Waller's Divine Poesie.
The following letter communicates some further details of Mrs. Unwin's severe attack, and of Cowper's feelings on this distressing occasion.
TO MRS. KING.[622]
Weston, Jan. 26, 1792.
My dear Madam,—Silent as I have long been, I have had but too good a reason for being so. About six weeks since, Mrs. Unwin was seized with a sudden and most alarming disorder, a vertigo, which would have thrown her out of her chair to the ground, had I not been quick enough to catch her while she was falling. For some moments her knees and ancles were so entirely disabled that she had no use of them; and it was with the exertion of all my strength that I replaced her in her seat. Many days she kept her bed, and for some weeks her chamber; but, at length, she has joined me again in the study. Her recovery has been extremely slow, and she is still feeble; but, I thank God, not so feeble but that I hope for her perfect restoration as the spring advances. I am persuaded, that with your feelings for your friends, you will know how to imagine what I must have suffered on an occasion so distressing, and to pardon a silence owing to such a cause.
The account you give me of the patience with which a lady of your acquaintance has lately endured a terrible operation, is a strong proof that your sex surpasses ours in heroic fortitude. I call it by that name, because I verily believe, that in God's account, there is more true heroism in suffering his will with meek submission than in doing our own, or that of our fellow mortals who may have a right to command us, with the utmost valour that was ever exhibited in a field of battle. Renown and glory are, in general, the incitements to such exertions; but no laurels are to be won by sitting patiently under the knife of a surgeon. The virtue is, therefore, of a less suspicious character; the principle of it more simple, and the practice more difficult;—considerations that seem sufficiently to warrant my opinion, that the infallible Judge of human conduct may possibly behold with more complacency a suffering than an active courage.
I forget if I told you that I am engaged for a new edition of Milton's Poems. In fact, I have still other engagements, and so various, that I hardly know to which of them all to give my first attentions. I have only time, therefore, to condole with you on the double loss you have lately sustained, and to congratulate you on being female; because, as such, you will, I trust, acquit yourself well under so severe a trial.
I remain, my dear madam,
Most sincerely yours,
W. C.