Under these circumstances, Hayley, with an ardour of zeal and a regard for Cowper's welfare, that reflect the highest honour upon his character, determined on his return to London to interest his more powerful friends in his behalf, and thus secure, if possible, a timely provision against future difficulties. The necessity for this act of kindness will soon appear to be painfully urgent. In the meantime he cheered Cowper's mind, harassed by his Miltonic engagement, with intelligence that had a tendency to relieve him from much of his present embarrassment and dejection.
TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.
Weston, Nov. 5, 1793.
My dear Friend,—In a letter from Lady Hesketh, which I received not long since, she informed me how very pleasantly she had spent some time at Wargrave. We now begin to expect her here, where our charms of situation are perhaps not equal to yours, yet by no means contemptible. She told me she had spoken to you in very handsome terms of the country round about us, but not so of our house and the view before it. The house itself, however, is not unworthy some commendation; small as it is, it is neat, and neater than she is aware of; for my study and the room over it have been repaired and beautified this summer, and little more was wanting to make it an abode sufficiently commodious for a man of my moderate desires. As to the prospect from it, that she misrepresented 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. But none such exist. On the contrary, the opposite object and the only one, is an orchard, so well planted, and with trees of such growth, that we seem to look into a wood, or rather to be surrounded by one. Thus, placed as we are in the midst of a village, we have none of those disagreeables that belong to such a position, and the village itself is one of the prettiest I know; terminated at one end by the church tower, seen through the 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. WALTER BAGOT.
Weston, Nov. 10, 1793.
My dear Friend,—You are very kind to consider my literary engagements, and to make them a reason for not interrupting me more frequently with a letter; but though I am indeed as busy as an author or an editor can well be, and am not apt to be overjoyed at the arrival of letters from uninteresting quarters, I shall always, I hope, have leisure both to peruse and to answer those of my real friends, and to do both with pleasure.
I have to thank you much for your benevolent aid in the affair of my friend Hurdis. You have doubtless learned, ere now, that he has succeeded, and carried the prize by a majority of twenty. He is well qualified for the post he has gained. So much the better for the honour of the Oxonian 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 conflagration by which all Europe suffers at present,[726] and is likely to suffer for a long time to come. The same mistake seems to have prevailed as in the American business. We then flattered ourselves that the colonies would prove an easy conquest, and, when all the neighbour nations armed themselves against France, we imagined, I believe, that she too would be presently vanquished. But we begin already to be undeceived, and God only knows to what a degree we may find we have erred at the conclusion. Such, however, is the state of things all around us, as reminds me continually of the Psalmist's expression—"He shall break them in pieces like a potter's vessel." And I rather wish than hope, in some of my melancholy moods, that England herself may escape a fracture.