BOSTON UNIVERSITY GRADUATE SCHOOL
Thesis
WILLIAM COSPER AS A
REPRESENTATIVE OF EIGHTEENTH CENTURY CRITICISM
Submitted bv Edith Lawton (B.B.E. , Boston University, 1928)
In partial fulfilment of requirements for the degree of Master of Arts
19 3 0
BOSTON UNIVERSITY COLLEGE OF LIBERAL ARTS LIBRARY
4- 4 5 oe>
i I
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PREFACE
My recent studies in the field of criticism have revealed to me the fact that William C0wper has never been given suf- - ficient recognition as a critic. ^ith the hope of doing something to justify his claim to a place in the critical field I under- took the studv of bis writings with a view to sifting out his critical Denouncement s.
As the work of research proceeded I found that his criticism bulked much larger than I had at first supposed. Consequently $his work has extended beyond the limits within which I hoped to confine it. I am convinced that much more might be done with this material, but such extended treatment would be bevond the bounds of a study of this nature.
As the bibliography might indicate, my research has been more intensive than extensive. I have devoted much attention to ^aintsbury's three volume History of Criticism , and unlimited time to the study of the letters and poetry of Cowuer. I have enjoyed a special Drivilege in the use of the unpublished text of Cowper's letters as revised, corrected, and greatly supplemented by Professor Neilson Q. Hannav. This has trade possible access to unpublished letters and portions of letters, and corrected readings of published letters.
for the use of these letters and for the constant courtesy of his supervision of this work I am deeply indebted to Professor Hannav. His corrections and suggestions are implicit throughout the entire studv.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Cambridge History of English
Literature .... edited bv W. •« Ward and A. P.
Waller, New York, 1917.
Lict ionary of National Biography Oxford University Press edition.
Encyclopaedia Br ittanica 14th Edition.
Cowper, Complete Poetical Works
of edited by H. S. Milford, London,
191?.
Saintsbury, George A History of Criticism, 3 vols.,
fifth edition, London, 1929.
A Short History of English Lit- erature, London, 1911.
Sirith, Gregory Elizabethan Critical Essays, 2
vols., Oxford, 1904. Introduc- tion, pp. xi-xcii.
Spin^arn, J. I Critical Essays of the Seventeenth
Century, 3 vols., Oxford, 1908. Introduction, pp. ix-cvi.
fori^ht, Thomas The Correspondence of William
Cowper, 4 vols., London, 1904.
Life of William Cowper, Pevised
edition, London, 1923.
...... The Unpublished and Uncollected
Letters of William Cowper, London, 1925.
OUTLINE
Page
Introduction: General Status of Literary Criticism in the
Eighteenth Centurv. i
f4 1
Introductory Considerations.
I Heritage from Preceding Centuries:-
A. Elizabethan criticism:-
1. Incentives: -
a. Creative work of the period.
b. Puritan attack.
2. Critical fields:-
a. Defense of poetry end drama.
b. Definite criticise of contemporaries.
3. Critical ideas:-
a. Attitude maintained.
b. Subjects considered :-
1. Decorum.
2. Prosody.
3. Diction.
4. Chief figures.
B. Later seventeenth century criticism:-
1. Sidney's influence:-
a. Romantic.
b. Classical.
2. Continental Influences:-
a. Italian.
b. French.
c. Others.
3. Prominent emphases in E'ngland:-
a. Hobbes - aesthetics.
b. D'Avenant and Cowley - religion.
c. Rymer - rules, x d. Prvden.
* 4. Quarrel of the ^ncients and Moderns.
C. Eighteenth century beginnings:- 1. Classicist:-
a. Pope.
b. Johnson .
2. ^offlant icist s : -
a. Beginnings
b. Central group of pioneers. Conclusion
WILLIAM COWPER AS A REPRESENTATIVE OP EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
CRITICISM
I On Critics and Criticism:- 12 Introductory Considerations.
A. Critic's Mission - proving bis own fine taste be fault finding.
B. Erroneous critical ideas:-
1. Jealous support of mistaken notions.
2. Over-nicety as to language.
5. ^uphasis on general rather than specific criticism.
C. C0!I1!!1endable Types of Critics:-
1. Authors as critics.
2. feminine critics.
3. Judicious critics.
D. True basis of criticism. Conclusion.
II On Literarv Types and Styles:- 20 Introductory Considerations.
A. Various literary genre:-
1. Drama.
2. Sentimental novel. 5. Cscste.
4. Satire.
5. Narrative.
I. Poetry: -
1. General considerations.
a. Poetry preferable to prose.
b. Attributes of a true poet.
2. Motives. Therr.es.
4. Kinds:-
e. Sonnet.
b. Ode.
c. Pastoral.
d. Ballad.
5. Mode:-
a. Familiar.
b. Light*
c. Serious.
C. Technique:-
1. Spaaaatical.
2. Rhetorical — at Miction
b. figures of speech.
3. verse.
*. Style:-
1. ProDer emphasis.
2. Perspicuitv.
3. Simplicity.
4. Finish.
5. Variety.
6. Originality.
On Poets and Other ^riters:-
*« Classical poets:-
Introductory Considerations.
1. Hoiner:-
a. Commendations: -
1) Of the poet.
2) Of his work in general.
3) Of his descriptions.
4) Of his stvle.
5) Of his technique.
b. Citation of his faults.
('
c
c. General critical considerations: -
1) Iliad vs. Odyssey.
2) -Authenticity of the last Odyssey.
3) banner of collection of Homer.
4) Validity of any of Homer.
2. Virgil.
3. Lucilius.
4. Horace.
B. English Poets:- 73 Introductory Considerations.
1. Milton: -
a. General commendation.
b. Against Waller's and Johnson's criticism o.f Milton.
c. Estimate of various specific works:-
1) Latin ooems.
2) Pastorals.
3) Paradise Lost.
4) L'Aiieiro and II Penseroso.
d. Milton's imitation of Homer.
e. Technique.
2. Drvden:-
a. Poetic quality.
b. Immoral elements in his poetry.
3. Addison: -
a. Virtues.
b. Faults.
4. Pope:-
a. Pis style:-
1) Smooth.
2) -Mechanical.
3) Affected.
b. His abusive criticism.
c. Beauty in his wcrk.
d. His translation of Homer'* -
1) Popularity.
2) 6-rrors.
5. Thomson
6. Gray.
7. Goldsmith.
•
Burns.
C.
Minor Poets (English and other):-
98
Introductory C0nsiderat ions. 1. Friends of C0wner:-
2.
3.
8. Prior.
b. Lloyd.
c. Churchill.
d. Hayley.
Various English poets:-
a. Watts.
b. Lowth.
c. Blackirore.
d. §i. Jortin.
e. Huntingford.
f. Hawkins Brown. 2. Garrick.
h. Wolcott.
Poets whose work was presented to Cowper for criticism: -
a. James Hurdis.
b. Richard Glover.
c. Walter Churchey.
d. Cadv/ellader. Foreign poets:-
a. Timothy Cwigbt.
b. Lavater.
Conclusion.
D. Historical ^riters:-
Introductory Considerations. 1. Tacitus.
116
(I
|
2. |
Josschns. • W WW k/ 1.1 \J>. KJ • |
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3. |
Newton. |
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4. |
Gibbon. |
|
5. |
D i- x Robert son. |
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6. |
^ir Richard Baker. |
|
7. |
B io$raDhia Britannica. |
Religious ^riters:- Introductory Considerations.
1. Bible as literature.
2. Major writers: -
a. Bishop Newton.
b. Hervey.
c. Pearsall.
d. Marshall.
e. V.adan.
f. John Newton.
g. Hannah More.
3. Minor writers.
4. Foreign writers: -
a. ^-bbe ^aynal.
b. Caraccioli.
c. Mme. Guyon.
Miscellaneous ^riters:-
Introductory Considerations.
1. Critics:-
a. Johnson: -
1) Lives of the Poets.
2) On Milton.
3) On Pope and Prior.
4) On Cowper.
5) Prayers and Meditations.
6) General praise.
1
b. Hugh Blair.
c. Dr. Beattie.
d. V'icesimus Knox. 3. C'avid Hums.
f. John Pinkerton.
2. Grammarians : -
a. Lily.
b. Busby.
3. Writers on travel:-
a. Hawkesworth.
b. Gaot. Ry*yione.
c. Capt. Cook.
4. Narrative writers: - 8. Fielding.
b. Smollett.
c. Charlotte Smith.
d. Mackenzie.
e. Laurence Sterne.
f. Eunyan.
5. Miscellaneous: -
a. John Barclay.
b. Hawkins.
c. Boswell.
d. Vrs. Montana.
e. Thomas Paine.
f. Lunardi.
Conclus ion.
On Translation and Translators: -
Introductory Considerations.
%, General consider ations: -
1# Disadvantages of free translation. 2. disadvantages of close translation. 3- Mvanta^es of medium ground.
<
B. latin: -
1. 4i a language.
2. V. Bourne's Latin verse.
C. French writers: -
1. Mme. Guyon.
2. Caraccioli.
•« Greek: -
1. As a language
2. difficulty of translation into English.
E. CowDer's translation of Homer:-
1. Closeness.
2. Commentators used.
F. Other translators : -
1. George Chapman.
2. Hobbes.
3. Villoison.
4. Twining.
Conclusion.
On Self Criticism:-
Introduotory Considerations.
A. As Poet:-
1. General modesty.
2. AmU£ement in writing.
3. Purpose in writing various individual poems.
4. General purpose - delight in order to teach.
5. Attitude toward public opinicn.
6. Defense of his:-
a. Individuality as a poet.
b. Titles.
c. Method.
B. As Translator: -
1. Purpose in work.
2. Care in translation.
3. Care in revision.
<
4. Tolerance for criticism of others.
5. Support of own ideas.
6. Attitude toward public opinion.
7. Attitude toward critics.
C. As Critic.
D. As Editor. Conclusion.
VI On Letter Writing:-
Introductorv Considerations.
A. Of Dublication of letters.
B. Modesty concerning own letters.
C. Joy in lettrr writing. C. An author's letter.
E. Various letter writers:-
1. John Newton.
2. Dr. Johnson.
3. Swift and Gray.
4. ftest.
5. Chesterfield.
6. Mrs. Montagu.
7. Lady Hesketh.
S. Sincerity in letters 3. Subject matter.
H. Beginnings.
I. Of answering letters. Conclusion.
Conclusion.
INTRODUCTION
In all fields of endeavor, no matter what the progress from time to time, the tendency toward standardization is always pres- ent - the tendency to evolve certain set principles and to retain them. In the field of criticism this same tendency is at work. As criticism develops, principles are evolved, some of which con- tribute valuable foundation material, others of which serve only as drawbacks. In eighteenth century England the influence of this development is apparent: critical systems have been tending toward crystallization until neo-classicism is at its height and the undercurrent of romanticism is growing ever stronger.
Englisn criticism tended in this direction from its earliest beginning; that is, a little before Elizabethan days. Previously there was not a great deal to criticise in the way of English literature. By Elizabethan times creative work was plentiful and so criticism thrived. The Puritan attack on poetry and drama served as an added spur to criticism. This attack called forth the various defenses of poetry, the best organized of which is Sidney's An Apolo&ie for Poetrie.
These defenses were not very original but they did show real beginnings in organized criticism. In addition to a somewhat per- fun3tory historical defense, the critics made a defense of poetry on the basis of its nature and character. This defense was well sustained though the arguments used were largely borrowed. For example, the idea of the divine origin of poetic inspiration came
from Vida. From Aristotle through Horace, and very probably through the Renaissance critics, came the conception of poetry as an art of imitation, not confined to traditional form and material. Horace contributes the idea that poetry's aim is to "teach and de- light. " Early emphasis on the "teaching" tended toward consider- ing the fable to be the heart of the poem. A shift of emphasis to "delight" placed the value of a poem in its pure beauty.
While pointing out the values of poetry, the Elizabethan critics were not blind to its faults. They were quite aware of contemporary trivial riming and cited it as the reason for the ill repute cf roetry. Yet, in spite of this rank growth of poetic weeds, they saw possibilities in English for poetry, and experi- mented enthusiastically with a view to improvement . Ascham represents the spirit of this experimentation in holding that writers should be given guiding principles.
In the light of later developments one might suppose that these classically minded reformers laid down definite rules. They did not; they only suggested, with no intention to command. As Puttenham said, they were "seeking to fashion an art, & not to finish it: which time only & custom have authoritie to do, espe- cially in all cases of language . . . . "* Harvey, though he com- mended the use of classical examples, laid greater stress on the necessity for exercise and practice. Throughout, their attitude was characterized in the main by restrained, reasonable classicism. They did have distinct respect for Horace's decorum, which
1. The Arte of English Poesie, Book II, Chapter XV.
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Puttenham considered in a general way as "this good grace of every thing in his kinde . . . . ■* In Sidney's application of this principle to drama - in his strict division of tragedy and comedy, and in his carefully defined unities - is found one of the few approaches to stricter classicism that this period made. In the field of prosody Sidney was least prejudiced of his contemporaries; Harvey was decided and influential. The metrical chaos was attributed to the use of "rhyme": accentual structure was to be replaced by quantitative: and there was to be uniform orthography. The reform in diction, sponsored particularly by Puttenham and Ascham, was characterized by opposition to the ar- chaisms coming from excess Chaucerian enthusiasm, criticism of "inkhorn" terms, and harsh condemnation of foreign words, espe- cially the Italianate.
In all of this criticism the pedants proceeded largely by way of abuse, but such true courtiers as Sidney were above this method. Their chief originality lies not so much in material - for they borrowed widely - as in method of treatment, in modification of the earlier humanistic flytings into something constructive and even pleasing. A number of critics were moderately prominent, of these we might well consider Sidney the most noteworthy, since he was able to arrange his classical borrowings in such fashion as to have them appeal to his contemporaries, who in turn borrowed from him.
Sidney's work furnished source material for seventeenth cen- tury writers as well as for his contemporaries. His ideas are
1. The Arte of English Poesie, Eook III, Chapter XXIII.
4
the basis of the conservative romanticism of Bacon and of the strong classicism of Jonson. Sidney's Aristotelian idea of im- agination as the source of the poets creative power is repeated in Eaccn with the classical provision that imagination must be tempered by reason. This restraint in Bacon was much admired by the classical Jonson, who took from Sidney the neo-classical emphasis on definite separation of tragedy and comedy and the strict adherence to the unities. On the basis of such ideas he made his' somewhat erroneous if interesting criticisms of Shake- speare. He later swung away from Sidney and began to show con- tinental influence.
This change in Jonson is symptomatic of the changes in critical influence during the seventeenth century. The Italians, who had been leaders since the beginning of the Renaissance, were rapidly losing their commanding position. What remained of their influence in England is seen in Milton. Quite the best educated man of his time, steeped in the classics and in Italian learning, he quoted often from the classics and from the Italian critics. His emphasis on the high calling of the poet is strongly reminis- cent of Vida. We find no reference in Milton to the French critics; perhaps he felt them to be undeserving of his notice as compared with the greater Italians.
However that may be, evidently the French were rapidly taking the place of the Italians as leaders in the field of criticism. The notable work of the Ple'iede group, followed by the establish- ment of the Academy, and the internationally famous quarrel of the
5
Oid brought France to the fore. To add to the classical emphasis of the French -Academy there was a distinct classical trend on the part of the Dutch scholars. Spain also was beginning to make critical contributions. All of these countries affected English criticism and English criticism likewise had its effect upon them. In fact, the notable characteristic of the century is the criti- cal agreement among various countries, not, of course, an entire agreement but a coming together on the main points, in all cases with a growing tendency toward the standardization typical of neo- classicism.
In England one of the earliest exemplars of this tendency to standardization was Thomas Hobbes. Fe was cniefly interested in the increasingly popular subject of aesthetics, the first logical system of which he developed. He treated much of wit, judgment, and imagination, placing judgment as BGtrt important and having least respect for imagination. His views were rather mechanistic and utilitarian. He considered the subject of poetry to be the manners of men, and the method to be verisimilitude. Therefore, the more a writer knew of human nature, and the more retentive his memory, the clearer his style and tne more exact his character portrayal, also the greater his possibilities for variety in presentation.
D'Avenant was not entirely in agreement with Hobbes. He con- sidered that in addition to the colder Qualities of nature and reason one should have religion in ord^r to write good poetry. Here he is in agreement with Cowley, and, like Cowley, he is op- posed to Eoileau. Nevertheless, Covenant was careful to limit
the extent to which a poet might indulge his fervor, religious or otherwise. He case out strongly against such poetic fury as was often mistaken for inspiration.
More in line with Hobbes and with the dominant emphasis of the century was Rymer. He was the only outright exemplar in England of the school of rules. His system of rules for critical judgment was logically organized. To him common sense was the criterion for judgment, and common sense advocated the following out in poetry of the fundamental laws of life - the natural laws which he considered to govern psychological as well as physical nature. On Such a basis it was the natural thing to use rules for poetry, and to have those rules insist on poetic justice. Since in nature there is no provocation without revenge, the same principle should apply in poetry. Rymer 's common sense attitude made him particularly averse to the effusions of the metaphysical poets, and this attitude contributed to the growing disrespect to- ward imagination. The most valuable contribution which Rymer made - and he was a real influence in his day - was his introduc- tion of the practice of using excerpts of the piece criticised as pertinent illustrations of the criticisms made.
Dryden was influenced by Rymer and maintained a profound respect for him. This did not, however, keep Dryden from the out- standingly independent thought which made him the most prominent critic of his day and one of the greatest of all English critics. He had a good knowledge of the ancient classics and much affection for them, though he did not consider them valuable because they were classics, rather did he admire the excellent in them as he
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would have admired it anywhere else. The French critics presented many ideas that appealed to him, but here again he was very much against those who admired things French just because they were French. Similar to other critics of the day, Dryden discussed wit and judgment, particularly wit, which he considered to be of the intellect rather than something merely facetious. Imagination was not highly esteemed by him, perhaps because of the prejudice against it aroused by the excesses of the metaphysical poets. Dryden's classification of the various types of translation was the most intelligent up to his time. He considered that there are three kinds: metaphrase, absolutely literal; paraphrase, retaining the sense but not necessarily the exact literal wording; and im- itation which reproduced only the general idea without attempting to retain either the exact wording or the sense.
The controversy ever translation was one phase of the quarrel of the ancients and moderns. This quarrel was the concrete evi- dence of the undercurrent of romanticism which had been steadily gaining strength in spite of the predominating neo-classic temper Of the century. The quarrel began in France when Eoileau attacked the Christian epic, and defenders of it rose against him, both in France and in Fngland. In France the newer school of opposition to the neo-classicists was largely influenced by Descartes, who stood for examination rather than authority as a basis for judg- ment. Early in the eighteenth century the quarrel became quite evident in England, but it came to naught, except that it gave swift a chance to produce some of his brilliant satire in The Battle of the Books, and it also showed that the romanticists
8
were on the gain in England. The return of the quarrel to France came about as the result of controversy over the relative merits of free and close translation. Nothing really came of the quarrel either in France or in England, except that the domi- nant trends of the two countries became apparent,
Although romanticism fared better in England than in France during the quarrel of the ancients and moderns, the early eight- eenth century in England was the Age of Neo-classioism. Aadison was essentially a classicist, though a tolerant one, and Bysshe was distinctly neo-classic in his emphasis on syllabic prosody, definite rules for pause, and elision. Eut the outstanding classicist of the early eighteenth century was Pope, the apostle of correctness. He took Myden's iaea of propriety and carried it to the farthest extent. He also adopted from Rymer the idea of nature as the basis for rules. Rules were of value not because based on the ancients but because they represented natural common sense. Nature to Pope was not merely a pattern of law and order, afl has been generally held. Such poems as h'indsor Forest show that he had for nature a warmer more romantic regard, which might have been more evident in his poetry if circumstances had not turned him to satire. He did not have so vide a knowledge of literature as he should have had in order to make the criticisms he did. This narrowness of knowledge warped his historical viewpoint and made him more rigid than he might otherwise have been in his imitation of some of the ancients, and in his application of their critical theories to the work of bis own day.
9
None of the neo-olassicist s just mentioned had an exceedingly wide knowledge of literature, especially outside of his own country. In fact, though they would be the last to admit it, even their knowledge of the classics was sadly warped by the changes which had come from various interpretations. This may be seen,.
for instance, in their rigid adherence to syllabic prosody, an idea not truly of the ancients, who admitted trysillabic feet, but one which continued to delude neo-classicists for some time.
The beginnings of a wider knowledge of literature in general came with Elair and Karnes. Blair's knowledge was wide and essen- tially correct, and his criticisms were to some extent just. He was, however, in spite of his wide knowledge, governed by the narrower eighteenth century critical attitude. Kames had even wider knowledge than Elair, was more liberal than he, and was not so much influenced by the emphasis on classicism.
Dominating the century and having a real effect on the criticism and writing of the period, is Dr. Johnson - severe yet kindly, prejudiced yet appreciative. Many of his views were due to his Tory temperament, and many others may be attributed to his physical limitations. Eis Tory prejudices made him at times, as in the case o.f Milton, quite blind to any merits in the Whig camp. This lack in appreciation or perhaps in understanding of Milton may also have been due to his poor ear for music and his difficulty in appreciating anything but the most regular measure. His pre- dominantly classical training, and his Renaissance background made him place a heavy emphasis on Latinisms. However, with all of this
10
he was possessed of an eminent degree of common sense and good literary judgment. Though he was prejudiced against certain men's views, we find him, as in the case of Gray, willing to admit their merits even while most intolerant of their leanings to views op- posite from his. Neo-classicist as he was, this same common sense of his made Johnson set forth an idea which went far toward the destruction of the very neo-classicism to which he held with such apparent rigidity. He struck at the basic weakness of neo-classi- cism when he said, "It ought to be the first endeavor of a writer to distinguish nature from custom, or that which is established because it is right from that which is right only because it is established; that he may neither violate essential principles by a desire of novelty, nor debar himself from the attainment of beauties within his view by a needless fear of breaking rules which no literary dictator had authority to enact. ■*
This more liberal idea was not nearly so consistently rep- resented by Johnson as by those who were avowedly of the romantic school, such as Gray, Shenstone, Percy, the Wartons, Hurd, and, - though he has not previously been given such recognition as he deserves, - William Cowper. These critics did not judge by any abstract rules supposedly derived from authority nor did they judge by comparison with the ancients. To them, especially to Cowper, literature came first ana criticism afterwards, and it was criticism that must adjust itself to literature and not lit- erature to criticism.
In the midst of this struggle between militant but slowly
1. Saintsbury, A History of Or it icism, vol. II, pp. 483-484.
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relenting neo-classicism, as seen in Johnson, and steadily growing romanticism, as seen in the group just mentioned, we find Cowper setting down for his friends his progressive and eminently sound iaeas on literature and the criticism of it.
I
ON CRITICS AND CRITICISM
Sidney, . as we heve seen, greatly admired the ancient clas- sical writers, and set forth principles for guidance in emulation of them. Ey the seventeenth century these principles had been supplanted by absolute rules; emulation had become imitation; and admiration had changed to idolization. Seventeenth century critics set down definite regulat ions, limited the scope of cer- tain ideas, and made such definitions as gave rise to designation between "true and false" in wit, inspiration, and beauty. This crystallization resulted in the strictly neo-classic criticism of the early eighteenth century, a criticism according to rule, which looked net for virtues but for faults, - an arrogant criticism which demanded syllabic prosody, fixed caesura, and other set forms. The opposition which this program was certain to arouse had gained considerable force by tr.e middle of the eighteenth cen- tury. Critics with romantic leanings began to see flaws in the classic theory. Their characteristic catholicity in viewpoint made them rebel against the narrowness which classical judgment by rules imposed upon both the creative writer and the critic.
William Cowper as a critic represents to us the moderate ro- manticist. Bis training instilled into him a love of the classics and an admiration of classical writers. This admiration did not, however, make him agree with neo-classic wrong-headed enthusiasm: he realized too well the inappropriateness of applying to English verse the principles for writing Latin verse. Moreover, he had too
13
much respect for individual freedom to agree with any set rules, and too much appreciation for rugged simplicity even to tolerate rules aiming at polished style. His method as well as his principles differed from the neo-classicists. By nature gentle and kindly, he could not indulge in their abusive criti- cism. On the other hand, when a question of morals was at stake, or when he felt some action to be unprincipled or insupportable, his reforming zeal got the better of his gentle nature, and he flashed out biting satire in an attempt to improve conditions.
The critic who sought only an opportunity to display his sagacity, who sought material for condemnation rather than ele- ments which he might praise,- in other words, the hide-bound classicist,- was Cowper's particular aversion, and furnished one of the objects of his satire. So we find him writing to William Dnwin: "The same work will wear a different appearance in the eyes of the same man, according to the different views with which he reads it; if merely for his amusement, his candour being in less danger of a twist from interest or prejudice, he is pleased with what is really pleasing, and is not over curious to discover a blemish, because the exercise of a minute exactness is not con- sistent with his purpose. But if he once becomes a critic by trade, the case is altered. Be must then at any rate establish, if he can, an opinion in every mind of his uncommon discernment, and his exquisite taste. This great end he can never accomplish by thinking in the track that has been beaten under the hoof of public .judgment. He must endeavour to convince the world that
14
their favourite authors have more faults than they are aware of, and such as they have never suspected. Having marked out a writer universally esteemed, whom he finds it for that very reason convenient to depreciate and traduce, he will overlook some of his beauties, he will faintly praise others, and in such a manner as to make thousands, more modest, though quite as judicious as him- self, question whether they are beauties at all.
Again by way of satire he makes a thrust at the tenacity with which critics cling to their notions, even when they have very good reason to think themselves in error. In a letter to Newton, Cowper had been in such haste that his writing was illegible. Newton having made a poor guess at one of his words, Cowper in setting him right makes the most of an opportunity for a bit of satire on a critical practice common to such as Dr. Bentley: "If authors could have lived to adjust and authenticate their own text, a commentator would have been a useless creature. For instance - if Cr. Bentley had found, or opined that he had found, the word tube, where it seemed to present itself to you, and bad judged the subject worthy of his critical acumen, he would either have justified the corrupt reading, or have substituted some in- vention of his own, in defence of which he would have exerted all his polemical abilities, and have quarrelled with half the literati in Europe. Then suppose the writer himself, as in the present case, to interpose with a gentle whisper thus - 'If you look again, Doctor, you will perceive that what appears to you to be tube, is neither more nor less than the simple monosyllable
1. To William Dnwin, Jan. 17, 1*782
c
15
ink, but I wrote it in great haste, and the want of 'sufficient precision in the character has occasioned your mistake: you will be especially satisfied when you see the sense elucidated by the explanation. ' But I question whether the doctor would quit his ground, or allow any author to be a competent judge in his own case. The world, however, would acquiesce immediately, and vote the critic useless. ■
Cowper not only accuses critics of clinging to ideas they know to be wrong he insists that critics deliberately stop their ears against any reasoning which might go against their "darling whim. B
"When some hypothesis absurd and vain Has fill'd with all its fumes a critic's brain, The text that sorts not with his darling whim, Though plain to others, is obscure to him. The will made subject to a lawless force, All is irregular, and out of course; And judgment drunk, and brib'd to lose his way, Winks hard, and talks of darkness at noon-day.
Perhaps Cowper is not entirely in disagreement with the critics in, their demand for clarity in expression, but his aver- sion to over-polished writing made him occasionally accuse them of over-nicety. He speaks in one letter of availing himself "of every inch of time," and adds: "an Expression a Critic would quarrel with, and call it by some hard name signifying a Jumble of Ideas, and an unnatural Match between time & space. In dis cussing the conditions under which Homer was supposed to have
1. To John Newton, May 10, 1780.
2. The Progress of Error, lines 444 - 451.
3. To John Newton, Oct. 4, 1781.
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written the Iliad and the Odyssey, he says, nA Critic would tell me that instead of written I should have said composed. very likely - but I am not writing to one of that snarling generation.
He shows himself to be in line with the newer criticism when he suggests that critics are too often apt to make general state- ments without citing particulars in illustration of their views. He not only states his opinion but also gives reasons for it. His setting forth of his views came in response to uncomplimentary criticism of the poems of Walter Churchey. Cowper writes to him: "To say that I was grieved at the treatment you have received from the Reviewers is saying little, for I felt myself not more grieved than angry. To censure a book in that general manner is neither just to the author of it, nor satisfactory to their own readers. Extracts should always be given; first, as a proof that they have read what they condemn, and, secondly, that the public may judge for themselves. **
Not all critics nor all decisions of critics were condemned by Cowper. The gentler critical temper which he found in himself he attributed to his own literary efforts, and so was of the opinion that in general those who did creative work were more merciful as critics because more understanding. "But we who make Eooks ourselves are more merciful to Bookmakers. I would that every fastidious judge of authors, were, himself, obliged to write; there goes more to the compilation of a volume than many Critics imagine. "3
1. To John Johnson, liarch 23, 1790.
2. To Walter Churchey, Dec. 24, 1790
3. To Samuel Rose, Aug. 8, 1789.
1?
-As creative writers were in his mind more merciful so were women, in his est imat ion, more gentle and unprejudiced in their criticisms. Writing to Lady Hesketh in response to her report to him of another lady's criticism, he shows himself appreciative of the growing prominence of women in the literary field, and also of their sagacity. "It is a delightful bundle of Praise, my Cousin, that you have sent me. All jasmine and lavender. Whoever the Lady is, she has evidently an admirable pen and a cultivated mind. and while I can please you and Her and others like you, I care not for all the He Critics in the world. I do verily consider some of the Ladies of the present day as better qualified to judge the Writings of our Sex than the men them- selves. Literature has diffused itself among them to a degree unknown in the last generation, their sensibilities are generally quicker than ours, and they have no jealousies or envies, in such a case, to warp their opinion. If a person reads it is no matter in what language, end if the mind be informed, it is no matter whether that mind belongs to a man or a woman. The Taste and the judgment will receive the benefit alike in both.
Cowper's condemnation of critics did not blind him to their influence nor keep him from realizing that some of them were to be commended. When his work was criticized he recognized the advisability of giving some consideration to the opinions of the critics even when they differed from his own. "I cannot decide with myself whether the lines in which the Reviewers are so smartly noticed, had better be expunged or not. Those lines are
1. To Lady Hesketh, May 22, 1786
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gracefully introduced and well written, for which reasons I should be loth to part with them. On the other hand how far it may be prudent to irritate a body of critics who certainly much influence the public opinion, may deserve consideration. It may be added too that they are not ail equally worthy of the lash, there are among them men of real learning, judgment and candour. "
The presentation of what Cowner ccnsidered to be the basis and value of criticism should furnish a key to the understanding of his attitude toward critics. On reading the works of two contemporary critics he found that, though he had never read Aristotle, these critics did not give him a great deal that was really new, only suggestions as to putting him "own observations into some method. " This experience led him to formulate s sort of philosophy of criticism based on a view which was just begin- ning to present itself tc some of the other more liberal critics. He writes: "In fact, Critics did not originally beget Authors, but Authors made Critics. Common sense dictated to Writers the necessity of Method, connexion, and thoughts congruous to the na- ture of their subject, Genius prompted them with embellishments, and then came the Critics, observing the good effects of an at- tention tc these Items, they enacted laws for the observance of them in time to ccme, and having drawn their rules for good writ- ing from what was actually well written, boasted themselves the Inventors of an Art, which yet the Authors of the day had already exemplified, they are however useful! in their way, giving us at
1. To Thomas Park, April 27, 1792.
19
one view a Map of the boundaries which propriety sets to fancy, and serving as Judges to whom the public may at once appeal when pesterd with the vagaries of those who have had the hardiness to transgress them.
This estimate of a critic's function shows Cowper to be representative of the transition between classicism and roman- ticism - one who rebels against arrogant authority but who is also averse to too great freedom. His romanticism leads him to oppose criticism on the narrower classical basisj his love of the classics and his mild conservatism make him flinch when some radical dis- regards all classical principles. In the restraining of such vagrants he feels criticism to be of real value.
1. To John Newton, April 26, 1784.
II
ON LITERARY TYPES AND STYLES
Passing judgment on critics in general and on their practices was by no means the extent of Cowper's critical labors, nor does this judging of other critics foreshadow any scarcity of specific critical pronouncements on his part. Like many another critic, he was at times influenced by prejudices or by pet enthusiasms; but in general his criticisms are characterized by sane insight into reasonable literary principles. His judgments of particular writers, and his constructive suggestions for writing are numerous and truly valuable.
With a moral reformer's zeal he attacks the sentimental novel of his day. Eis censure is probably aimed at Richardson's Pamela:
"Ye writers of .what none with safety reads, footing it in the dance that fancy leads: Ye novelists, who mar what ye would mend, Sniv'ling and driv'ling folly without end, Whose corresponding misses fill the ream With sentimental frippery and dream, Caught in a delicate soft silken net By some lewd earl or rake-hell baronet:
Who, kindling a combustion of desire,
With some cold moral think to quench the fire; ******
Howe'er disguis'd th' inflammatory tale, And covered with a fine-spun specious veil; Such writers, and such readers, owe the gust And relish of their pleasure all to lust.
1. The Progress of Error, lines 307-314, 3±y-320, 327-330
21
During his Temple days in London Cowper was interested in drama, as in almost anything that would amuse. Concerning the plays on the Italian model then coming into vogue he wrote, "The portions styled recitatives are absurd beyond measure, but the songs are most sweet. After his conversion and his retirement to the country, his interest in the drama lessened. Speaking of a play of Colman's he says: "I have not seen the New Play, nor is my Curiosity so much agog as one would have expected. We live much out of the Theatrical Sphere . . . . "z
Being himself much given to satire, Cowper had a keen appre- ciation of it in others - provided it was used in the right way and to the right purpose. He regarded it as a means toward reform, to be used with discretion, and though it might be severe it should never be cruel or stinging. After one of his satiric flings he writes:
"The sacred implement I now employ Might prove a mischief, or at best a toy; A trifle, if it move but to amuse: Eut, if to wrong the judgment and abuse, Worse than a poignard in the basest hand, It stabs at once the morals of a land. "5
And again he condemns satire wrongly used:
"Unless a love of virtue light the flame, Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame; He hides behind a magisterial air His own offences, and strips others bare; Affects, indeed a most humane concern, That men, if gently tutor 'd, will not learn;
1. Translated from a Latin letter to Clotworthy Rowley, Aug. 1758.
2. To Joseph Hill, March 10, 1766.
3. The Progress of Error, lines 301-306.
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That mulish folly, not to be reclaim'd By softer methods, must be made asham'd; But (I might instance in St. Patrick's dean) Too often rails to gratify his spleen. Most sat'rists are indeed a public scourge; Their mildest physic is a farrier's purge; Their acrid temper turns, as soon as stirr'd, The milk of their good purpose all to curd.
jjC }j> 3(C ^ -"v
When scandal has new minted an old lie,
Or tax'd invention for a fresh supply,
'Tis call'd a satire, and the world appears
Gath'ring around it with erected ears:
A thousand names are toss'd into the crowd;
Some whisper'd softly, and some twang 'd aloud;
Just as the sapience of an author's brain
Suggests it safe or dang'rous to be plain. "1
More constructive than the foregoing are bis remarks on narrative: "He that tells a long Story should take care that it be not made a long Story by his manner of telling it. His Ex- pression should be natural and his method clear, the Incidents should be interrupted by very few Keflections, and Parentheses should be entirely discarded. **
This general advice is illustrated and added to in his section in Conversation concerning the story:
".A story, in which native humour reigns, Is often useful, always entertains: A graver fact, enlisted on your side, May furnish illustration, well applied; But sedentary weavers of long tales Give me the fidgets, and my patience fails. 'Tis the most asinine employ on earth,
1. Charity, lines 491 - 504, 513-520.
2. To John Kewton, February 25, 1781,
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To hear them tell of parentage and birth,
And echo conversations, dull and dry,
Embellish'd with - He said, and So said I.
At ev'ry interview their route the same,
The repetition makes attention lame;
We bustle up with unsuccessful speed,
And in the saddest part cry - Droll indeed!
The path of narrative with care pursue,
Still making probability your clue;
On all the vestiges of truth attend,
And let them guide you to a decent end.
Of all ambitions man may entertain,
The worst that can invade a sickly brain
Is that which angles hourly for surprise,
And baits its hook with prod-igies and lies.
Credulous infancy, or age as weak,
Are fittest auditors for such to seek,
Who to please others will themselves disgrace;
Yet please not, but affront you to your face.
A great retailer of this curious ware,
Having unloaded and made many stare,
Can this be true? - an arch observer cries.
Yes, (rather mov'd) I saw it with these eyes!
Sir! I believe it on that ground alone;
I could not, had I seen it with my own.
A tale should be judicious, clear, succinct; The language plain, and incidents well link'd; Tell not as new what ev'ry boay knows; And, new or old, still hasten to a close; There, cent 'ring in a focus round and neat, Let all your rays of information meet. What neither yields us profit nor delight Is like a nurse's lullaby at night; Guy Earl of Warwick and fair Eleanore, Or giant killing Jack, would please me more. "*
Much as Cowper might discuss other literary genre, his chief
interest was in poetry as such. So enamoured was he of it that
1. Conversation, lines 203-244.
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he often presented arguments for preferring it to prose. His first defense of poetry in this light is a facetious setting forth of the value of it as a medium for presenting law cases. In his delight- fully fanciful manner he contends that poetry would be of value in this instance for three reasons: because it would make the material more compact and so more memorable; because it would get away from circumlocution and so be more intelligible; and because the presen- tation could then be set to music and the rehearsal of it be sung for entertainment. To demonstrate his point he wrote a poetical account of the case of fiyes vs. Nose. He upheld the idea that such poetic renditions, "if they wanted the Eloquence of the Greek or Roman Oratory, would have amply compensated that Deficiency by the Harmony of Rhime and Metre. ■*
He is still in a humorous mood when he writes to Lady Austen of poetry as preferable to prose, but here one sees through the veneer of humor his serious meaning:
"Dear Anna, between friend and friend, Prose answers every common end; Serves in a Diain and homely way, T'express th 1 occurrence of the day; Our health, the weather, and the news; What walks we take, what books we choose; And all the floating thoughts we find Upon the surface of the mini.
But when a poet takes the pen, Far more alive than other men, He feels a gentle tingling come Down to his finger and his thumb, Deriv'd from nature's noblest part,
1. To Joseph Hill, February 15, I'/8i.
^5
The centre of a glowing heart: And this is what the world, who knows No flights above the pitch of prose, His more sublime vagaries slighting, Denominates an itch for writing.
For his own individual writing he preferred poetry as a mode of expression when he felt strongly on a subject, because, he said, "Were I to express what I feel upon such occasions in prose, it would be verbose, inflated, and disgusting. I tnerefore have re- course to verse, as a suitable vehicle for the most vehement ex- pressions my thoughts suggest to me. " * Another reason for Cowper's individual preference for poetry was the amusement he derived from poetic composition. Much of his writing was done for diversion, to keep him from despair; he found more amusement in the more difficult working out of rime and metre than in the easier running prose. And lastly he felt that poetry lent itself more readily to satiric presentation than did prose. He says in tnis connection, with perhaps not unquestionable validity, "There is a sting in verse, that prose neither has, nor can have . . . . "3
This high estimate of poetry on Cowper's part may in some degree be due to the emphasis still prominent in his day. It may also have been encouraged by his contact with the work of Milton, who considered poetry to be much higher than the "cool element of prose. " Encouraged perhaps by Milton, and in keeping with his exalted view of poetry, is Cowper's idea of the excellent qualities of a true poet. The picture which he has given of the ideal poet
1. To Lady Austen, December 1?, l'/8i.
2. To William Unwin, June 18, 1780.
3. T0 William Unwin, May 8, 1784.
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is beautifully presented, and has been called his "masterly portrait of himself.
"Nature, exerting an unwearied pow'r, Forms, opens, and gives scent to, ev'ry flow'r; Spreads the fresh verdure of the field, and leads The dancing Naiads through the dewy meads: She fills profuse ten thousand little throats With music, modulating all their notes; And charms the woodland scenes, and wilds unknown, With artless airs and concerts of her own: But seldom las if fearful of expense.) Vouchsafes to man a poet's .iust pretence - Fervency, freedom, fluency of thought, Harmony, strength, words exquisitely sought; Fancy, that from the bow that spans tne sky Brings colours, dipt in heav'n, that never die; A soul exalted above earth, a mind Skill 'd in the characters that form mankind; And, as the sun in rising beauty dress'd, Looks to the westward irom the dappled east, And marks, whatever clouds may interpose, Ere yet his race begins, its glorious close; An eye liKe his to catch the distant goal, Or ere the wheels of verse begin to roil; Like his to shed illuminating rays On ev'ry scene and subject it surveys: Thus grac'd, the man asserts a poet's name, And the world cheerfully admits the claim. "2
On one occasion he links up this idea of the keen insight of a poet with the old Roman conception of the vates, presenting the poet's inspiration as a source of prophecy:
1. Hayley, Life of William Cowper, 1806 edition, Vol. I, p. 317.
2. Table Talk, lines 6^0-715.
27
"I know the mind that feels indeed the fire The muse imports, and can command the lyre, Acts with a force, and kindles with a zeal, Whate'er the theme, that others never feel.
*
bo, when remote futurity is brought Before the keen inquiry of her thought, A terrible sagacity informs
The poet's heart; he looks to distant storms;
He hears the thunder ere the tempest low'rs;
And, arm'd with strength surpassing human pow'rs,
Seizes events as yet unknown to man,
And darts his soul into the dawning plan.
Hence, in a Roman mouth, the graceful name
Of prophet and of poet was the same;
Hence British poets, tco, the priesthood shar'd,
And ev'ry hallow'd druid was a bard.
A writer having the profound inspiration which Cowper ac- cords to the poet could not with propriety submit that power to hire, nor write with any low motive. Feeling thus about such employment of the poetic gift, Cowper is most critical of the office of Poet-Laureate. He considers the Laureate to be a hire- ling muse and as suoh worthy of little respect. He denounces his obligation to pay to kings good and bad "His quit-rent ode, his pepper-corn of praise . . . . ** When it was suggested to him that his friends recommend him for the Laureateship he exclaimed, "Heaven guard my brows from the wreath you mention, whatever wreath besid® may hereafter adorn them! It would be a leaden extinguisher clapped on all the fire of my genius, and I should never more pro- duce a line worth reading. "3
1. 2. 3.
Table Talk, lines 480-483, 492-503.
Table Talk, line HO.
To Lady Hesketh, May 28, 1790.
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Poetry written for hire is worthy of condemnation and quite beyond his power of manufacture. But how much more base and low does he consider poetry written only to achieve fame:
"Or, if to see the name of idol self, Stamp 'd on the well-bound quarto, grace the shelf, To float a bubble on the breath of fame, Prompt his endeavour, and engage his aim, Cebas'd to servile purposes of pride, Row are the pow'rs of genius misapplied!
Distorted from its use and just design,
To make the pitiful possessor shine,
To purchase, at the fool-frequented fair
Of vanity, a wreath for self to wear,
Is profanation of the basest kind -
Proof of a trifling and a worthless mind. "*
To Cowper the real aim of poetry was of the highest:
"The gift, whose oifice is the Giver's praise, To trace him in his word, his works, his ways, Then spreai the rich discov'ry, and invite Mankind to share in the divine delight . . . . "*
With this as its purpose, poetry could ill afford to aim only to please:
"For, after all, if merely to beguile,
By flowing numbers and a flow'ry style,
The taedius that the lazy rich endure,
Which now and than sweet poetry may cure ******
How are the pow'rs of genius misapplied! "5 However, this does not bar poetry from aiming to please in
1. Table Talk, lines 744-749, 754-759.
2. Ibid., lines 750-753.
3. Ibid., lines 740-743, 749.
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order to teaoh. Cowper frequently repeats his opinion that poetry should delight in order to teaoh:
Whose lines, uniting, by an honest art,
The faithful monitor's and poet's part,
Seek to delight, that they may mend mankind,
And, while they captivate, inform the mind: ... . "
Furthermore, in the closing lines of Charity is an example of one of the many expressions of Cowper 's own poetic purpose to teach by pleasing:
With such a high purpose, the subjects which are truly worthy of presentation in poetry are limited. Only such as contribute to man's inspiration and betterment are to be so treated. Trivial considerations are quite outruled, and their treatment in poetry proves the weakness of the poet. Cowper presents this idea in some of his most delightful satire:
"To dally much with subjects mean and low Proves that the mind is weak, or makes it so. Neglected talents rust into decay, And ev'ry effort ends in push-nin play. The man that means success should soar above I soldier's feather, or a lady's glove; Else, summoning the muse to such a theme, The fruit of all her labour is whipt-cream.
ft
Happy the bard .
"Thus have I sought to grace a serious lay With many a wild, indeed, but flow'ry spray, In hoDes to gain, what else I must have lost, Th'attention pleasure has so much engross'd."2
1.
2.
Hope, lines 754, 756-759. Gharity, lines 628-6^1.
30
As if an eagle flew aloft, and then -
Stoop 'd from his highest pitch to pounce a wren.
As if the poet, purposing to wed,
Should carve himself a wife in gingerbread. ■*
Of little more value than such trivialities is poetry which presents an author's views on some subject of the day. Cowper learned this lesson by experience. Having in the morning written verses in condemnation of Burke, he decided after reading the speech of the orator that he was right, and so by evening burnt his condemnatory verses. In relating this incident to William Unwin he said: "Such is the lot of the man who writes upon the subject of the di:y; the aspect of ai fairs changes in an hour or two, and his opinion with it; what was just and well-deserved satire in the morning, in the evening becomes a libel; the author commences his own judge, and while he condemns with unrelenting severity what he so lately approved, is sorry to find that he has laid his leaf-gold upon touchwood, which crumbled away under his fingers. . . . these little things are so fugitive, that while a man catches at the subject, he is only filling his hand with smoke. "2
Perhaps it was thi3 experience also that led him to present the incompetency of many a poet to write on practical subjects. Not only did he feel practical affairs to be unworthy subjects for poetry but he also realized that practical men, not poets, were the ones fitted to treat such subjects. So he writes, again in mildly satiric vein:
1. Table Talk, lines 544-555.
2. To William Unwin, February 2?, l'/80.
31
"Thus men, whose thoughts contemplative have dwelt On situations that they never felt, Start up sagacious, cover'd with the dust Of dreaming study and pedantic rust, And prate and preach about what others prove, As if the world and they were hand and glove. Leave kingly baciss to cope with kingly cares; They have their weight to carry, subjects their 's; Poets, of all men, ever least regret Increasing taxes and the nation's debt.
The poet's function in affairs of state is not to give sage advice on subjects of which he has no knowledge, rather should he sing an inspirational song. A poet's sphere is in the higher realms; his theme is that which furnishes the impetus for prac- tical deeds. What better theme, then, for an English poet than liberty? In his enthusiasm for liberty Cowper places it above everything, and vows thet poet needs nothing better for an inspi- rational theme:
"Religion, virtue, truth, whate'er we call A blessing - freedom is the pledge of all. Oh libertyl the pris'ner's pleasing dream, The poet's muse, his passion and his theme; Genius is thine, and thou art fancy's nurse; Lost without thee th' ennobling pow'rs of verse; Heroic song from thy free touch acquires Its clearest tone, the rapture it inspires; Place me where winter breathes his keenest air, And I will sing, if liberty be there; And I will sing, at liberty's dear feet, In Afric's torrid clime, or India's fiercest heat. "2
One could hardly expect Cowper not to present religion as a
1.
2,
Table Talk, lines 168-177. Ibid., lines 286-297.
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theme for poetry. In considering the hackneyed forms and themes of poetry he presents religion as the only novel one. Treatment of such a subject he feels would raise the poets song above the mortal. Again he reminds one of Milton in this championing of the religious as a theme ror poetry:
"Pity religion has so seldom found A skilful guide into poetic groundl
The flow'rs would spring where'er she deign 'd to stray,
And ev'ry muse attend her in her way.
Virtue indeed meets many a rhiming friend,
And many a compliment politely penn'd;
But, unattir'd in that becoming vest
Religion weaves for her, and half undress 'd,
Stands in the desert, shiv'ring and forlorn,
A wintry figure, like a wither 'd thorn.
The shelves are full, all other themes are sped;
Hackney'd and worn to the last flimsy thread,
Satire has long since done his best; and curst
And loathsome ribaldry has done his worst;
Fancy has sDorted ail her pow'rs away
In tales, in trifles, and in children's play;
And 'tis the sad complaint, and almost true,
Whate'er we write, we bring forth nothing new.
'Twere new indeed to see a bard all fire,
Touch'd with a coal from heav'n, assume the lyre,
And tell the world, still kindling as be sung,
With more than mortal music on his tongue,
That He, who died below, and reigns above,
Inspires the song, and that his name is love. "*
Much of Cowper's own poetry was concerned with exposition of his religious views and with condemnation of the evils of his day. The satire which he employed in this condemnation was often of a light, humorous sort such as one would expect from a person
1. Table Talk, lines 716-739.
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of his "frisking wit." This humorous element often shows itself in his shorter lyrics, and in these same lyrics is found much of his most lovely ideality. Though he did not attempt many vari- eties of poetry he had a clear unds-rs taniing of the value of the various kinds and a keen appreciation of their good use by others.
The set form of the sonnet did not annoy him, in spite of his rebellion against too grsat emphasis on form in poetry. He wrote sonnets himself and showed his appreciation of their peculiar function when he wrote of them: "For my own part I like them much, when they are on subjects proper to them; such, I mean, as are best expressed in a close sententious manner, for they are too short to admit of a loose one. Also concerning the shorter type of verse is his discussion of epitaph and epigram: ". . . not that I think an epitaph should be pointed like an epigram. But still there is a closeness of thought and expression necessary in the con- clusion of all these little things, that they may leave an agree- able flavour upon the palate. Whatever is short, should be nervous, masculine, and compact. Little men are so; and little poems should be so; because, where the work is short, the author has no right to the plea of weariness; and laziness is never admitted as an available excuse in any thing. "2
He did not feel too friendly toward the pastoral. Perhaps there seemed in it too much artificial emphasis on the machinery of its particular types. He considered "the childish prattlement of pastoral compositions "3to be "indeed ridiculous enough. "3
1. To Lady Hesketh, April 25, 1792.
2. To William Unwin, July 2, 1780.
3. To William Unwin, October 31, 1779,
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34
That he derided the conventional Pindaric ode in his younger
days is a possibility. The attribution to him of a satiric ode is 1
in some doubt, but if valid it exhibits him in those days as look- ing with playful scorn upon such productions, satirizing their traditional subject matter, melancholy tone, and stilted treatment, as is evident from the following selections:
"Shall I begin with Ah, or 0 ft? Be sad? Oh! yes. Ee glad? Ah! no. Light subjects suit not grave Pindaric ode, Which walks in metre down the Strophic road.
The lark shall soar in ev'ry Ode,
With flow'rs of light description strew'd,
And sweetly, warbling Philomel, shall flow
Thy Soothing Sadness in mechanic woe. *"
When his own life took on more somber hue his attitude toward the ode was less harsh. Re find him writing to William Unwin in re- turn for an ode of Huntingf ord 1 s: "I like the little ode . . . you sent me. In such matters we do not expect much novelty, or much depth of thought. The expression is all in ail . . . He still feels that the emuhasis is on expression, but is not so much inclined to condemn as in the poetic selections just cited.
1. Cowper's only authenticated contribution to the St. James' Magazine is a Dissertation on the Modern Ode, in which he promised a specimen ode. The next number (November, 176^) contained this ode, but it was signed "L. " However, Southey has been followed by several other editors in attributing it to Cowper. The claim seems plausible, especially since the manner is so much like Cowper's.
2. An Ode, lines 1-4, 49-52.
3. To William Unwin, October 22, 1785.
35
As for the ballad, Cowper probably found few critics in his day, and for some decades previously, who would agree with fain in his rather high estimation of the genre. Perhaps he did strain a point when he claimed for some ballads a place higher than certain of the best Greek and Latin odes. Nevertheless, in his less casual discussion of the ballad he is eminently sensible of its function and its characteristics: "The ballad is a species of poetry, I believe, peculiar to this country, equally adapted to the drollest and the most tragical subjects. Simplicity and ease are its proper characteristics. Our forefathers excelled in it; but we moderns have lost the art. It is observed, that we have few good Fnglish odes. But to make amends, we have many excellent ballads .... It is a sort of composition I was ever fond of, and if graver matters had not called me another way, should have addicted myself tc it more than to anv other.
In his ideas regarding the mode of poetry as over against its kinds, Cowrer had very decided views. Poetry in his day was more advanced than prose, and widely divorced from it. He was particu- larly fond of pointing out the artificiality which so often occur- red in poetic diction. Nevertheless he was aware of the difficulty of supplanting this artificiality. The achievement of a really fa- miliar style in poetry he considered the poet 's most difficult task. Be points out what familiar verse at its best should be, and so demonstrates its difficulties: "Every man conversant with verse-
1. To William Unwin, August 4, 1783.
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writing knows, and knows by painlul experience, that the familiar style is or all styles the most difficult to succeed in. To ma&e verse speak the language of prose, without being prosaic - to marshal the worls of it in such an order as they might naturally take in falling from the lips of an extemporary speaker, yet without meanness, harmoniously, elegantly, and without seeming to displace a syllable for the sake of the rhyme, is one of the most arduous tasks a poet can uniertake. ■*
Discussing the light verse of Swift, Cowper writes: "£q bagatelle has no enemy in me, though it has neither so warm a friend, nor so able a one, as it had in him. Any mere trifling he did was done to keep him from melancholy; yet some of his lighter verse was not merely trifling, it was written on his principle of delighting in ord-r to teach. As he beautifully puts it, "J serious poen is like a swan, it flies heavily, and never far; but a jest has the wings of a swallow, that never tire, and that carry it into every nook and corner. "3
Much as he desired that poets might write more on religious subjects, he realized that poems written on such themes would never be read by those who most needed them, unless some of the lighter element were interwoven with the serious: "To aim with success at the spiritual good of mankind, and to become popular by writing on scriDturai subjects, were an unreasonable ambition, even for a poet to entertain, in lays like these. Verse may have many charms, but has none powerful enough to conquer the aversion of a dissipated
1. 2. 3.
To William Unwin, January 17, 1782. To William Unwin, November 18, 1782.
To William Unwin, August 4, 1783.
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age to such instruction. ul
No matter how truly inspired the poet and no matter how noble his aim, he comes at last to the cold facts of technique, even to grammatical consiierations. Cuvper did not pretend to grammarian's honors but he did feel that a poet had some obligation to the rules of grammar no matter how free he might wish his poetic soul to be. Poetic license to Cowper's mind did not apply in the grammatical field. "Poets, " he wrote, "are sometime exposed to difficulties insurmountable by lawful means, whence I imagine was originally derived that indulgence that allows them the use of what is called the poetioa lioentia. But that liberty, I believe, contents itself with the abbreviation or protraction of a word, or an alteration in the quantity of a syllable, and never presumes to trespass upon grammatical propriety. "2
Evidently he was at times individual in his grammatical notions. In a discussion of the propriety of occasionally using that in place of who, he seems to regard Blair as too formal in his insistence on who: "I do not rashly differ from so great a gram- marian, nor do I at any rate differ from him altogether; - upon solemn occasions, as in prayer or preaching, for instance, I would be strictly correct, and upon stately ones; - for instance, were I writing an epic poem, I would be so likewise, but not upon familiar occasions.
"God who heareth prayer, is right. "Hector who saw Patroclus, is right.
1. To Mlliam Dnwin, August 4, 1783
2. To William Unwin, July 12, iy84.
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"And the men that dresses me ever;? day, is in ray mind right also; - because the contrary would give an air of stiffness and pedantry to an expression, that in respect of the matter of it cannot be too negligently made up. Today we should be inclined to consider hin: in this instance a bit too much afraid of pedantry though we might admire him for sticking to his own view in spite of his opposition to the highly esteemed Blair.
On the question of compound epithets Cowper is inclined to lean in the classical direction. We have no particular quarrel with epithets but we realize that they are not used so zealously by any faction today as they were by some rabid classicists in his day. Being a practice of the classicists, the ,use of such epithet was naturally criticized by the romanticists. In defense of his use of compound epithets in his translation of Homer, Cowper write with great good sense: "I know not why we should quarrel with com- pound ' epithet s. It is certain at least that they are as agreeable to the genius of our language as to that of the Greek, which is suificiently proved by their being admitted even into our common and colloquial dialect. Elack-eyed, nut-brown, crook-shank 'd, hump-back'd, are all compound epithets, and together with a thousand other such, are used continually even by those who profes a dislike of such combinations in poetry. V.;hy then do they treat with so much friendly familiarity a thing that they say disgusts them? I doubt if they could give this question a reasonable answer, unless they should answar it by confessing themselves un- reasonable. B*
1. To lilliam Dnwin, August 27, 1785.
2. To Joseph Rill, November 14, 1791.
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in for elisions, he was more inclined to follow the fashion of the day. Especially since Bysshe's strong recommendation, the elision of silent syllables had been a practice among the best writers. In his early writing, even in his letters, Cowper held strictly to this practice. However, he later eliminated most of his elisions. His translation of Homer was first written with elisions. The criticism of those who read it before publication, particularly Lsdy Resketh, persuaded him, somewhat against his will, tc eliminate many. His pleading of the case for elisions is both entertaining and enlightening. Lady Fesketh bed reported to him the criticism of others on this point, and added her own. So he wrote: "Your opinion has more weight with me than that of all the critics in the world; ana to give you a proof of it, I make you a concession that I would hardly heve made to them all united. I do not indeed absolutely covenant, promise, and agree, that I will discard all my elisions, but I hereby bind myself to dismiss as many of them as, without sacrificing energy to sound, I can. It is incumbent upon me in the meantime tc say something in j ust if ication of the few that I shall retain, that I may not seem a poet mounted rather on a mule than on Pegasus. In the first place, The is a barbarism. fe are indebted for it to the Celts, or the Goths, or to the Saxons, and perhaps to them all. In the two best languages that ever were spoken, the Greek and the Latin, there is no similar incumbrance of expression to be found. Secondly, the perpetual use of it in our language is to us miserable poets attended with two great inconveniences. Our verse consisting only of ten syl- lables, it net unf reouently happens that a fifth part of a line
40
is to be engrossed, end necessarily too, (unless elision prevents it), by this abominable intruder; and, which is worse in my ac- count, open vowels are continually the consequence - The element - The air, etc. Thirdly, The French, who are equally with the English chargeable with barbarism in this particular, dispose of their Le and their La without ceremony, and always take care that they shall be absorbed, both in verse and in prose, in the vowel that immediately follows them. Fourthly, and I believe lastly (and for your sake I wish it may prove so), the practice of cutting short a The is warranted by Milton, who of all English poets that ever lived, had certainly the finest ear. Dr. Warton, indeed, has dared to say that he hsd a bad one; for which he deserves, as far as critical demerit can deserve it, to lose his own. I thought I had done, but there is still a fifthly behind, and it is this, - that the custom of abbreviating The belongs to the style in which, in my advertisement annexed to the specimen, I profess to write. The use of that style would have warranted me in the practice of much greater liberty of this sort than I ever intended to take. In perfect consistence with that style I might sey I' th 1 tempest, I1 th' door-way, etc., which, however, I would not allow myself to do, because I was aware that it would be objected to, and with reason. But it seems to me for the causes abovesaid, that when I shorten The, before a vowel, or before wh, as in the line you mention,
'Than th' whole bread Hellespont in all his parts,' my licence is not equally exceptionable, because though he rank as a consonant in the word whole, is not allowed to announce himself to the ear; and H is an aspirate. But as I said at the beginning
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so say I still, - I am most willing to conform myself to your very sensible observation, that it is necessary, if we would please, to consult the taste of our own day; neither would I have pelted you, my dearest cousin, with any part of this volley of good reasons, had I not designed them as an answer to those objections which you say you have heard from others. But I only mention them. Though satis- factory to myself, I waive them and will allow to The his whole dimensions, whensoever it can be done. "*
Ee became a firm believer in this elimination as applied to certain cases, so much so that we find him making a reasoned defense of his practice. He reports to Lady Hesketh a friend's suggestion that he elide, and then defends himself: "Placed he would have printed plac'd, and so of all words terminating in ed , and usually in former times abridged. But I shall not accede, - I cannot, indeed, to his counsel. Johnson long since, and the General lately, recommended to me the contrary practice; and the fashion of the day makes it necessary. It is also a real improvement, for the judg- ment corrects the eye, and in reading reduces the syllables to their just number: add to wnioh, we have no need to make pronunci- ation of cur language more diificult to foreigners than it is of necessity, which yet must be the certain consequence of spelling one v.ray and pronouncing another. For plac'd, according to the rule by which we made c beiore a consonant hard, ought to pronounced plackd. "z
That he did net consider it advisable to lorego elision in all
1
2
To Lady Hesketh, March 5, 1786. To Lady Hesketh, April 3, 1786.
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cases is shown by his plea in the preface to the proposed second edition of his Homer. Evidently even his newly developed zeal had left opportunity for elimination of still more elision when he re- vised his work for this second edition. A real problem arose when he tried to decide concerning the elision of the when it came be- fore a vowel, such a problem that the only solution he could arrive at was a compromise, albeit a compromise slightly in favor of elision. He presents his plight as follows: "The elisions, I be- lieve, are all cured, with only one exception. An alternative proposes itseli to a modern versifier, from which there is no escape, which occurs perpetually, and which, choose as he may, presents him always with an evil. I mean in the instance of the particle (the). When this particle precedes a vowel, shall he melt it into the substantive, or leave the hiatus open? Both practices are offensive to a delicate ear. The particle absorbed occasions harshness, and the open vowel a vacuity equally inconvenient. Sometimes, therefore, to leave it open, and sometimes to ingraft it into its adjunct seems mos:t adviseable; this course Nr. Pope has taken, whose authority recommended it to me; though of the two evils I have most frequently chosen the elis.ion as the least.
Cowper's interest in Homer very likely strengthened in him the- tendency toward simplicity. In the case of diction this led him to be at times "plain and unelevated. " In his preface to the first edition of his translation of Homer he writes in this con- nection, "Sig words on small matters may serve as a pretty exact
1. Southey: Life and Works of Villi am Cowver. Vol. XI. pp. xxii-xxiii.
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definition cf the burlesque . . . . This seme simplicity made him agree witfc some of the earlier critics that many of the new words coming into the language were no improvement. In his translation he "cautiously avoided all terms of new invention, with an abundance of which, persons of more ingenuity than judge- ment have not enriched our language, but incumbered it.
His unabashed use of very plain terms was not a common practice with hi"! but one which he considered necessary at times. Newton had objected to the word tainted. In response to this Cowper writes: " You will meet with the obnoxious word again in ye Copy I send you now, but coupled with a Substantive of so filthy a Character that I persuade myself you will have no Objec- tion to the use cf it in such a Connexion. I am no friend to the Use of wcrds taken from what an Uncle of mine calld ye diabolical Dictionary, but it happens sometimes that a coarse Expression is almost necessary to do Justice to the Indignation excited by an abominable Subject.
Cowper 's preference for unadorned style and for clearness made him wary of involved figures of speech. He felt that "long- winded" metaphors were apt to "halt at the latter end of their progress, "^and was consequently not fond of them. Similes if used with discretion he approved in their proper places. In a letter- to Hill he wrote, after having used two similes together: "I did
1. Southey: Life and Works of William Cowper. Vol. Xl. p. xii.
2. Ibid. , p. xvi.
3. To John Newton, February 18, 1?81.
4. Ibid., Kay 3, 1780.
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not perceive 'till this Moment that I had tack'd two Similes
together, a Practise, which though warranted by ye Example of
Homer and allowable in an Epic Poem, is rather Luxurient &
Licentious in a Letter . . . . He did not feel that similes
always clarified matters, especially when they were long. While
writing to Robert Lloyd, after having used two similes verging on
Homeric length, he playfully explained:
"The sense was dark, 'twas therefore fit With simile to illustrate it; Eut as too much obscures the sight, As often as too little light, We have our similes cut short, For matters of more grave import. "z
In a similarly humorous vein he presents an illustration of the error of too long and too frequent parentheses: "Fine weather, and a variety of extraforaneous occupations (search Johnson's die tionary for that word, and if not found there, insert it - for it saves e deal of circumlocution, and is very lawfully compounded) make it difficult (excuse the length of the parenthesis, which I did not foresee the length of when I oegan it, and which may per- haps a iittle perplex the sense of what I am writing, though, as I seldom deal in that figure of speech, I have the less need to make an apology for doing it at present), make it difficult (I sa for me to find opportunities for writing.
Later, after he and Unwin have discussed parenthesis, he presents seriously the case for and against, and gives an example
1. To Joseph Hill, July 8, 1?80.
2. To Robert Lloyd, 1754.
3. To. William Unwin, April 2, 1*781,
( 1
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of its legitimate and "graceful" use: "I remember you making an observation, while here, on the subject of parentheses, to which I acceded without limitation; but a little attention will convince us both that they are not to be universally condemned. When they abound, and wnen they are long, they both embarrass the sense, and are a proof that the writer's head is cloudy, that he has not pro- perly arranged his matter, or is not well skilled in the graces of expression. But as parenthesis is ranked by grammarians among the figures of rhetoric, we may suppose they had a reason for confer- ring that honour upon it. Accordingly we shall find that in the use of some of our finest writers, as well as in the hands of the ancient poets and orators, it has a peculiar elegance, and imparts a beauty which the period would want without it.
'Hoc nemus, nunc, ' inquit, 'frondoso vertice collem (Ouis deus incertum est) habitat deus. '
Vir. AEn. Q.
In this instance, the first that occurred, it is graceful. *3t
He does not deny the parenthesis to those who can skillfully use it but he feels that it is justly out of fashion in his day, "perhaps the moderns are in the right to proscribe what they cannot attain to. I will answer for it that had we the art at this day of insinuating a sentiment in this graceful manner, no reader of taste would quarrel with the practise. ttZ
The classical element in Cowper is again to the fore in his views on quantitative prosody. He was quite aroused when he came across a statement denying its validity for English poetry. He
1. To William Unwin, April 27, l'/S2.
2. To Walter Bagot, October 25, 1791
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had read, "that the syllables in our language being neither long nor short, our verse accordingly is less beautiful than the verse of Greeks or Romans, because requiring less artifice in its con- struction. "1 "Put," he wrote, "I deny the fact, and am ready to depose on oath that I find every syllable as distinguishably and clearly either long or short in our language as in any other. I know also, that without an Attention to the quantity of our syl- lables, good verse cannot possibly be written, and that ignorance of this matter is one reason why we see so much that is good for nothing. The movement of a verse is always either shuffling or
1
graceful according to our management in this particular. ..."
Though a large amount of Cowper's poetry is rirned, his two longest pieces - The Task and the translation of Homer - were done in blank verse. He felt that in the hands of such a poet as Milton blank verse achieved a majestic beauty not at all hindered by the iact that his medium was the English language. He saw in blank verse, besides its singular beauty, distinct difficulties. His labors on The Task convinced him so thoroughly of its dif- ficulties that he decided not to write in blank verse any more. This decision was due partly to the tact that he composed for amusement and did riot find blank verse so diverting as rime, since it lacked the music of rime, and was so much more difficult in its requirements in respect of pause and cadence, and in its peculiar
mode of expression. He finally concluded that blank verse was the
9 2 "most difficult species of uoetry" he had"ever meddled with. "
1. To Walter Bagot, January 4, 179L
2. To John Kewton, November 2?, 1784.
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'This decision was perhaps greatly influenced by his struggle with the punctuation of The Task, Of this he writes: "I have the whole punctuation to settle, which in blank verse is of the last importance, and ot a species peculiar to that composition; for I know no use of points, unless to direct the voice, the management of which, in the reading of blank verse, being more difficult than in the reading of any other poetry, requires perpetual hints and notices, to regulite the inflections, cadences, and pauses."''"
In spite of his former blank verse trials, when he undertook the translation of Homer his conviction that a translation should not attempt rime turned him again to blank verse. This task aroused his enthusiasm anew. ^bout the time of the publication he wrote to The Rev. Walter Eagot: "You delight me when you call Blank verse the English heroic; for I have always thought and often said, that we have no other verse worthy to be so entitled. When you read my preface you will be made acquainted with my sentiments on this subject nrett.v much at large, for which reason I will curb my zeal and say the less about it at present.
In the preface we find the most complete setting forth of his views on blank verse. Having presented the iaea that the breaks and pauses in blank verse are very much like the Grecian manner, and that such pauses cannot be gracefully introduced in rime, he points cut that blank verse is therefore the best medium for trans- lation of Homer: remark which I am naturally led to make by a. desire to conciliate, if possible, some, who, rather unreasonably
1. 2.
To William Unwin, October 2, 1784. To Walter Bagot, February 26, 1791.
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partial to rhyme, demand it on all occasions, and seem persuaded that poetry in our language is a vain attempt without it. Verse, that claims to be verse in right of its metre only, tney judge to be such rather by courtesy than by kind, on an apprehension that it costs the writer little trouble, that he has only to give his lines their prescribed number of syllables, and, so far as the mechanical part is concerned, all is veil. Were this true, they would have reason on tneir side, for the author is certainly best entitled to applause who succeeds against the greatest difficulty, and in verse that calls for the most artificial management in its construction. But the esse is not as they suppose. To rhyme, in our language, demands no great exertion of ingenuity, but is always easy to a person exercised in tne practice. Witness the multitudes who rhyme, but have no other poetical pretensions. Let it be considered too, how merciful we are apt to be to unclassical end inditferent language for the sake of rhyme, and we shall soon see that the labour lies principally on the other side. Many ornaments of no easy purchase are required to atone for the ab- sence of this <5ip<3ip pecowmendatiezu It is not sufficient that the lines of blank verse be smooth in themselves, they must also be harmonious in the combination. Whereas the chief concern of the rhymist is to beware that his couplets and his sense be com- mensurate, lest, the regularity of his numbers should be (too frequently at least) interrupted. A trivial difficulty this, compared with those which attend the poet unaccompanied by his bells. He, in order that he may be musical, must exhibit all the
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variations, as he proceeds, of which ten syllables are susceptible; between the first syllable and the last there is no place at which he must not occasionally pause, and the place of the pause must be perpetually shifted. To effect this variety, his attention must be given, at one »nd the same time, to the pauses he has already made in the period before him, as well as to that which he is about to make, and to those which shall succeed it. On no lighter terms than these is it possible that blank verse can be written which will not, in the course of a long work, fatigue the ear past all en- durance. . . . And if to these labours we add others equally requisite, a style in general more elaborate than rhyme requires, farther removed from the vernacular idiom both in the language itself and in the arrangement of it, we shall not long doubt which of these two verv different species of verse threatens the composer with the most expense of study and contrivance. ... To what has been here 3aid (which whether it have been said by others or not, I cannot tell, having never read any modern book on the sub- ject.) I shall only add, that to be poetical without rhyme, is an argument of a boutH classical constitution in any language. B*
This ultimatum was not very realily accepted by Thurlow, and consequently some controversv ensued, in the course of which Cowper stated the occasions nnon which he felt rime to be appropriate, and why he felt hi arir re^-e to be an advantage, particularly by way of introducing varie*.Ti "We are of one mind as to the agree- able effect of rhyme or euphony in the lighter kinds of poetry. The pieces which your Lordship mentions would certainly be spoiled
1. bouthey : I ife and Works of William Cowper. Vol. XI. pp. xiii-xv.
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by the l03:s of it, and so would all such. The Alma would lose all its neatness and smartness, and fludibras all its humour. Eut in grave poems of extreme length I apprehend tnat the case is different. Long before I thought of commencing poet myself, I have complained and heard others complain of the wearisomeness of such poems. Not that I suppose that taedium the effect of rhyme itself, but rather of the perpetual recurrence of the same pause and cadence, unavoid- able in tne English couplet.
A poet can make little progress without technical knowledge, but had he nothing but technical knowledge without style he would never make any real contribution. And having a style of his own, a command of rhetoric, and a fruitful fancy, he must yet have some skill in tne development of a subject lest all his rnetoric lead him nowhere. Cowper has given us an exposition of this iaea in his fine, concrete terms:
"Not all, whose eloquence the fancy fills, Musical as the chime of tinkling rills, Weak to perform, though mighty to pretend, Can trace her mazy windings to their end; Discern the fraud beneath the specious lure, Prevent tne danger, or prescribe the cure. The clear harangue, and cold as it is clear, Falls soDorific on the listless ear; Like auicksilver, the rhet 'ric they display Shines as it rnnr, but. grasp'd as, slips away.'
He felt that too often in his day poets were apt to place more consideration on manner than on matter. He felt that poetry was not improved by too much consideration of art, and preferred
1. To Lord Thurlow, August 1791.
2. The Progress of Error, lines 13-22.
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that piece which appealed by way of its natural beauty:
"Give me the line that plows its stately course Like a proud swan, conq'ring the stream by force; That, like some cottage beauty, strikes the heart, Quite unindebted to the tricks of art. "1
To him it appeared that the poet who struggled to construct his piece with much art achieved only a demonstration of his labor:
"A poet does not work by square or line, As smiths and joiners perfect a design . . . .
In other words, unless a poet's art come from within, his work will always reveal the toil it costs him, showing that his emphasis was on manner of presentation, which intricate manner he hoped to substi tute for "genius, sense, and wit":
"When labour and when dullness, club in hand, Like the two figures at St. Dunstan's stand, Beating alternately, in measur'd time, The clockwork tintinabulum of rhime, Exact and regular the sounds will be; But such mere quarter-strokes are not for me.
From him who rears a poem lank and long, To him who strains his all into a song;
Manner is all in all, whate'er is writ,
The substitute for genius, sense, and wit. n>
To him ideal poetry was artless, natural, written for its own sake, with no desire for praise or gain. Such was the poetry he felt to have graced Paradise:
1. Table Talk, lines 522-525.
2. Conversation, lines 789-790.
3. Table Talk, lines 526-533, 542-543.
BOSTON UNIVERSITY COLLEGE OF LIBERAL ARTS LIBRARY
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"In Eden, ere yet innocence of heart Had faded, poetry was not an art; Language, above all teaching, or, if taught, Only by gratitude and glowing thought, Elegant as simplicity, and warm As ecstasy, unmanacled by form, Not prompted, as in our degen'rate days, By low ambition and the thirst of praise, Wss natural as is the flowing stream, And yet magnificent - a God the theme! *
The poetry which was the product of a poet's nature would
be devoid of the over-labored quality and most apt to be clear;
and clearness was to Cowper's mind an absolute necessity. He was
2
of the opinion that "verse is good for little that wants it. " His gospel of perspicuity is well set forth in his advice to young Johnny of Norfolk, who had made some poetic attempts. To him he writes, "Only remember that, in writing, perspicuity is always more than half the battle. The want of it is the ruin of more than half the poetry that is uublished. A meaning that does not stare you in the face is as bad as no-meaning, because nobody will take the pains to poke for it. Cowper certainly practiced whut he preached: his poems are always clear in meaning and his descriptions especially well executed.
His own clearness of description made him critical of the vagueness which he saw in some of his comt empor aries, who professed to copy nature. After commending Homer's clear presentation, he continues: "Oh I how unlike some describers that I have met with, of modern days, who smother you with words, words, words, and then
1. Table Talk, lines 584-593.
2. Southey : I if e and Works of ffilliam Cowper . Vol. XI. p. xvi.
3. To John Johnson, February 28, i?yO.
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think that they have copied nature; while all the while nature was an object either not looked at, or not suif ieiently : as if a painter, having a beautiful woman to draw, should give you, indeed, something liKe the outline of her face, but should fill it up with all the colours of the rainbow. "
Akin to his love of clearness was his emphasis on simplicity; to him "Affectation of every sort is odious. " That which presented the simple truth in unadorned language was the very genius of clearness. Any attempt at art could only cloud such a piece:
"But happier far, who comfort those that wait To hear plain truth at Judah's hallow'd gate. Their language simple, as their manners meek, No shining ornaments have they to seek; Nor labour they, nor time, nor talents, waste, In sorting fiow'rs to suit a ficKle taste; . . . they speak the wisdom of the skies, Whicc art can only darken and disguise . . . .
He felt, however, that iust as real truth was seldom treated, so simplicity had become "a very rare quality in a writer. "4 tfany of the cider writers he felt to be guilty of false ornament, "and with respect to authors of the present era, the most popular among them appear to me equally censurable on the same account. "4
Added to ornamentation was the sin of sacrificing everything to smoothness:
1. To Lady Hesketh, January 2, l'/B6.
2. To John Newton, May 5, i?83.
3. Hope, lines 762-769.
4. To William Unwin, November 24, 1783.
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". . . but modern taste Is so refin'd, and delicate, and chaste, That verse, whatever fire the fancy warms, Without a creamy smoothness has no charms.
Cowper was most annoyed by this desire on the part of his contem- poraries for smoothness, and never would fall in line with it; "I know that the ears of modern verse-writers are delicate to an excess, and their readers are as troubled with the squeamishness as themselves. So that if a line do not run as smooth as quick- silver, they are offended. & critic of the present day serves a poem as a cook does a dead turkey, when she fastens the legs of it to a post and draws out all the sinews. For this we may thank Pope; but unless we could imitate him in the closeness and com- pactness of his expression, as well as in the smoothness of his numbers, we had better drop the imitation, which serves no other purpose than to emasculate and weaken all we write. Give me a manly rough line, with a deal of meaning in it, rather than a whole poem full of musical periods, that have nothing but their oily smoothness to recommend them.
"... There is a roughness on a plum which nobody that understands fruit would rub off, though the plum would be much more polished without it. ... I always write as smoothly as I can; but ... I never did, never will, sacrifice the spirit or sense of a passege to the sound of it. "
Particularly in long poems did he feel such smoothness to be a liability rather than an asset. In his defense of his Homer he
1. Table Talk, lines 510-513.
2. To Joseph Johnson, no date.
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often cited Milton as a fine example of the beauty which rough lines added as well as the advantage which they contributed by way of variety. In writing to Lady Hesketh concerning the revision of his translation of Homer, he sets forth rather fully his views on the matter: "I use all possible diligence to give a graceful gait and movement to such lines as rather hobbled a little before, with this reserve however, that when the sense requires it, or when for the sake of avoiding a monotonous cadence of the lines, of which there is always danger in so long a work, it shall appear to be prudent, I still leave a verse behind me that has some uneasi- ness in its formation. It is not possible to read Paradise Lost, with an ear for harmony, without being sensible of the great ad- vantage which Milton drew from such a management. One line only occurs to me at preiient as an instance of what; I mean, and I cannot stop to recollect more; but rumbling and rough as it is, it is in my mind, considering the sublet, one of the finest that ever was composed. He is describing hell; and as if the contemplation of such a scheme had scired him out of all his poetical wits, he finishes the terrible picture thus, -
Abominable, unutterable , and worse Than fancy yet had formed, or fear conceived, Gorgons and hydras and chimaeras dire. 1
Agree with me, my dear, that the deformity of the first of these three lines is the greatest beauty imaginable. This, however, is only an instance of unccuthness where the sense recommends it. Had I the book before me, I could soon fill my sheet with quota- tions of irregular lines taken from the most beautiful parts of his poem, which he used partly as foils to the rest, and partly to
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relieve the ear, as I said, from the tedium of an unvaried and perpetual smoothness. This I understand to be one of the great secrets of verse-writing in a piece of great length."
His objection to over-attention to smoothness by no means indicated in him a lack of attention to finish. At one time he wrote, "To touch and retouch is, though some writers boast of negligence, and others would be asnamed to show their foul copies, the secret of almost all good writing, especially in verse. He never tired of this revision, and felt gratified if his labors resulted even in some little improvement. Then too his poetry was written largely for amusement and this business of reworking kept him engrossed for hours at a time.
In his revision he did not work for too great precision, lor
he felt that in all except poetry "professedly of the didactic kind,
a logical precision would be stiff, Dedantic, and ridiculous. "3
He did consider it worth while to be careful in avoiding repetition.
Vihen he advised William Unwin to work for this quality he wrote,
". . . when it can be done without injury to the sense there seems
to me to be an elegance in diversifying the expression as much as
possible upon similar occasions. it discovers a command of phrase,
4
and gives a more masterly air to the piece."
Whatever a writer aohieved or failed to achieve, to Cowner's mind he was to be commended if he possessed originality and con- demned if he imitated. Imitation was a habit which he hated and
1. 2. 3. 4.
To Lady Eesketh, March 20, 1786. To William Unwin, July 2, 1780. To Lady Hesketh, July 28, 1788.
To William Unwin, January 22, 1784.
57
despised most cordially. Eecause of this aversion to imitation he was very careful what he read. ". . . he that would write should read, not that he may retail the observations of other men, but that, being thus refreshed and replenished, he may find himself in a condition to make and to produce his own. I reckon it among my principal advantage^ as a composer of verses, that I have not read an English Poet these thirteen years, and but one these twenty years. Imitation, even of the best models, is my aversion; it is servile and mechanical, a trick that has enabled many to usurp the name of author, who could not have written at al)., if they had not written upon the pattern of somebody indeed original. But when the ear and the taste have been much accustomed to the manner of others, it is almost impossible to avoid it; and we imitate, in spite of ourselves, .lust in proportion as we admire."^"
Cowper's principles have a logical relationship throughout his discussion or' literary types, involving as it does general and particular considerations of poetry, of technique, and of style. Only here and there does prejudice have suificient influence to cause him to step aside from the sane ' consistency , and well balanced middle ground which is in general typical of his judgment.
1. To William Unwin, November 24, 1?81.
Ill
ON POETS AND OTHER WRITERS:
A. Classical Poets
B. Major English Poets
C. Vdnor Poets (English and Others) P. Historical Writers
E. Religious Writers
P. Miscellaneous "Writers
(
A. CLASSICAL POETS
To begin the consideration of Cowper's more minute criticism with Homer seems eminently appropriate. His almost unqualified admiration for Homer is characteristic of his romantically inclined classicism. To the Virgilian classicist, Cowper would he an onologist. And truly he was, if we are to understand by that term the emulation of Homer's fearless use of the most ordinary terms. Cowper never hesitated to use the plainest terms in any of his writing, especially if he was expressing derision. This same sim- plicity in Homer was one of the reasons for his appeal to Cowper.
Cowper's admiration at times carried him into almost rhapsodic
declarations concerning his poetic idol. Nothing was too exagger-
1
ated for him to say of "the Immortal Homer, " the "sublimest poet in the world. He did not hesitate to call Homer "everything that a poet should be, to speak of him as "everywhere remarkable either for ease, dignity, or energy of expression, for grandeur of con- ception, and a majestic flow of numbers. After declaring in his preface that he will refrain from praise of Homer lest he be "liable to a suspicion of dotage, " he presents what we hope he did not con- sider mild praise* "He has been the wonder of all countries that his works have ever reached, even deified by the greatest names of antiquity, and in some places actually worshipped. And to say
m
1. To Walter Bagot, no date.
2. Ibid., August 2, l'/91.
3. To William Hayley, January 5, l'/94.
4. Ibid.
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truth, were it possible that mere man could entitle himself by preeminence of any kind to divine honours, Homer's astonishing powers seem to have given him the best pretensions. •* This from the religiously careful Cowper is no ordinary encomium.
Of Homer's works he considers the Iliad and the Odyssey "two
2
of the finest poems that ever were composed by man, the most en- tertaining of Greek books, and the easiest construction in Greek poetry. When speaking of his translation he said at one time, "The Original surpasses everything, " and for that reason deserved the labor of any translator. Kis admiration for the ninth book of the Iliad was in agreement with Fuseli, whom Cowper reports as con- sidering it "one of the most consummate efforts of genius handed down to us from antiquity.
Cowper was anxious to defend Homer on all possible grounds and was not even nonplussed by the Rev. John Newton. To Newton the be- loved pagan was presented as "in point of purity ... a most blame- less writer, and though he was not an enlighten 'd man has inter- spersed many great and valuable truths throughout both his poems. *■ fiven this seemed not to convince the austere Newton, for later cor- respondence strongly indicates that Newton had chided Cowper for so much attention to non-Christian literature. In all meekness Cowper confesses his probable error, but again suggests the virtues of Homer, and more particularly sets forth the value which he might
1. Sou they: Life and Iforks of William Cowper. VoI.aI. p. xvii.
2. To William Unwin, June 12, 1735.
5. -So Lady Hesketh, December 11, 1786. 4. To John Newton, December 3, l'/8f.
61
have even for a Christian, especially for such as would be apt to read Homer when they would not read the Scriptures. "I verily think that any person of a spiritual turn may read him to some ad- vantage. He may suggest reflections that may not be unserviceable even in a sermon, for I know not where we can find more striking exemplars of the pride, the arrogance, and the insignificance of man, at the same time that by ascribing all events to a divine interposition, he inculcates constantly the belief of a Providence, insists much on the duty of Charity toward the Poor and Stranger, on the respect that is due to superiors and to our Seniors in particular, and on the expedience and necessity or Prayer and piety toward the Gods. A piety mistaken indeed in its object, but exemplary for the punctuality of its performance. Thousands who will not learn from scripture to ask a blessing either on their actions or on their food, may learn it if they please from Homer.
To one of Cowper's ability in description, there was naturally an appeal in Homer's fine descriptions. The minuteness of this description was perfectly handled by Homer though it presented dif- ficulty to a translator. Such commonplace details as dressing, yoking a steed, and preparing for a journey needed something by way of adornment to make them poetry. Homer gave them by way of adorn- ment "purity of diction and harmony of versification, ** qualities difficult to reproduce in translation. Cowper's difficulties in the translation of such Dassages did not dull his appreciation of his original. Though he said, "Homer, who writes always to the eye,
1. To John Newton, June 24, lyyl.
2. To William Unwm, August 24, l'/86.
t
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with ail his sublimity and grandeur, has the minutensss of a Flemish painter, "1 he credited Homer with superb technique in the presentation of such minutiae: "Homer's accuracy of description, and his exquisite judgment never, never failed him. He never, I believe, in a single instance sacrificed beauty to embellishment. He does not deal in hyperbole . . . accordingly, when he describes nature, whether in man or in animal, or whether nature inanimate, you may always trust him for the most consummate fidelity. It is to his great glory that he omits no striking part of his subject, and that he never inserts a tittle that ioes not belong to it.
But description is not the only realm in which Homer repre- sented the ileal. "He is the best poet that ever lived for many reasons, but ror none more than ror that majestic plainness that distinguishes him rrom all others. As an accomplished person moves gracefully without thinking or it, in like manner the dignity of Homer seems to cost him no labour. No wonier Cowper admired the one poet whom he felt to be the incarnation of his cherished ideal of art which is spontaneous. With this natural grace, Homer was enabled to write with a simplicity which Cowper felt to be to some degree responsible for his singular beauties. This slogan of "Simplicity for ever!" which Cowper gives to Homer perhaps also seemed to him the reason why Homer was "the most perspicuous of all poets. "4
Homer's excellencies of style were just the ones Cowper always presented as most desirable in a poet, - elevated subject matter,
1. Southey: Life and forks of >Hlliam Cowoer. V<bl. xl. p. xvii.
2. To Lady Hesketh, January 2, 1?S6.
3. Ibid., February 19, 1?86.
4. Southey: Life and Korks of William Cowver. Vol. XI. p. xvi.
63
natural grace rather than art, simplicity, and perspicuity. In technique, too, he found exemplified some of his favorite points. As for diction Homer seemed to him quite perfect: "In fact, it is one of his numberless excellencies, and a point in which his judgment never fails him, that he is grand and lofty always in the right place, and knows infallibly how to rise and fall with his subject. *
In matters of pause, Cowper was in sympathy with the advanced group who no longer held to the idea of fixed ceasura. To Cowper, much of the beauty in blank verse was due to the variation of pause. Critics who disagreed with him had their reply in the pre- face to his second edition of Homer: "With respect to the pauses, it has been arfirmed with an unaccountable rashness, that Homer himself has given me an example of verse without them . . . But the assertion is totally unfounded. The pauses in Homer's verse are so frequent and various, that to name another poet, if pauses are a fault, mors faulty than He, were, perhaps, impossible. It may even be questioned, if a single passage of ten lines flowing with uninterrupted smoothness could be singled out from all the thousands that he has left us. He frequently pauses at the first word of the line, when it consists of three or more syllables; not seldom when of two; and sometimes even when of one only. ^
The preface to the second edition also contains a citation of Homer as not always regular in construction of his verse. This is not made in commendation of Homer but rather by way of justifi- cation of some indulgence in such practice on the part of Cowper:
1. Southey: Life and Works of William Cowper. Vol. xl. p. xii 2# Ibid., $p. xix-xx.
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64
"Homer himself ie not invariably regular in the construction of his verse. Had he been so, Eustarthius, an excellent critic and warm admirer of Homer, had never affirmed, that some of his lines want a head, some a tail, and others a middle. borne begin with a word that is neither Dactyl nor Spondee, some conclude with a Dactyl, and in the intermediate part he sometimes deviates equally from the established custom. I confess that instances of this sort are rare; but they are surely, though few, surficient to war- rant a sparing use of similar license in the present day. **
The high praise which Cowper has in so many instances given to Homer might, as he saw himself, lead one to think him blind to any of Homer's faults. 'To guard against that impression on the part of one of his friends, he writes: "Though I announce myself by my very undertaking to be one of Homers most enraptured ad- mirers, I am not a blind one. Perhaps the speech of .Achilles given in my Specimen, is as you hint, rather too much in the moralizing strain to suit so young a man and of so much fire. But whether it be or not, in the course of the close application that I am forced to give to my Author, I discover inadvertencies not a few; some perhaps that have escaped even the Commentators themselves, or perhaps in the enthusiasm of their idolatry, they resolved that they should pass for beauties. Homer, however, say what they will, was Man, and in all the works of man, especially in a work of such length and variety, many things will of necessity occur that might have been better. . . . Homer, bad his Zoilus, and perhaps if we knew all that Zoilus said, we should be forced
1. SoutheyS Life and Works of flilliim Cowper, Vol. XI. u. xxi.
•
65
to acknowledge, that, sometimes at least, he had reason on his side. Eut it is dangerous to find any fault at all with what the world is determined to esteem faultless. M^ l) Though he admired Homer's description and appropriate diction,
its application to repulsive sub.iect matter did not save the matter from being distasteful. While in the midst of his translation of the thirteenth book: of the Iliad, he wrote to Walter Bagot, who had asked to hear from him when a calm moment presented itself: "Is it possible for a man to be calm who for 3 weeks past has been perpetually occupied in slaughter. Letting out one man's bowels, smiting another througn the gullet, transfixing the liver of another, and lodging an arrow in the buttock of a fourth? Read the 13^n book of the Iliad, and you will find such amusing inci- dents as these the sub.isct of it, the sole subject. In order to interest myselt in it and to catch the spirit of it, I had need discard all humanity. It is woeful work, and were the best poet in the world to give us at this day such a List of Killed and wounded, he would not escaDe universal censure, to the praise of a more enlightened age be it spoken. I have waded through much blood, and through much more I must wade before I shall have finish'd. I determine in the mean time to account it all very sublime, and for two reasons. first, because all the Learned think so, and 2^1^ - because I am to translate it. But were I an in- || different by-stander perhaps I should venture to wish that Homer
had applied his wonderful powers to a less disgusting subject"^
1. $o Walter Bagot, July 4, T/86.
2. Ibid. , January 3, llBl.
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66
If Cowper had any preference between the Iliad and the
Odyssey, it was for the Odyssey. He was not at all in agreement
with Longinus in his likening of the Iliad to the meridian and
the Odyssey to the declining sun. Cowper declares, "I can find
in the latter, no symptoms of impair fd ability, none of the effects
of age. On the contrary it seems to me a certainty that Homer,
had he written the Odyssey in his youth, could not have written
it better, and if the Iliad in his old age, that he would have
i
written it .iust as well.
Neither did Cowper agree with Villoison's notion "that it was the avowed opinion and persuasion of Calliraachus (...) that Homer was very imperfectly understood even in his day; that his admirers, deceived by the perspicuity of his stile, fancied them- selves masters of his meaning, when, in truth, they knew little 2
about it. Cowper had studied the hymns of Callimachus at Westminster and knew that he was himself a poet, and a good one; he was also esteemed a good Critic, he almost, if not actually, adored Homer, and imitated him as nearly as he could. In the light of this he interpreted Callimachus to "mean nothing more by this assertion, than that the poems of Homer were in fact an Allegory, tnat under the obvious import of his stories, lay con- cealed a mystic sense, sometimes philosophical, sometimes religious, sometimes moral, and that the generality either wanted penetration or industry, or had not been properly qualified by their studies, to discover it. Such an explanation seemed to him auite
1. To John Johnson, March 2% l'/yo.
2. To Walter Bagot, no date.
61
plausible, "for, " he said, "I am myself an Ignoramus in these point and, except here and there, discern nothing more than the letter. 1,1
Favoring the Odyssey as he did, Cowper was loath to grant much of it to any other writer. He disagreed emphatically with Bentley's contention that the whole last Odyssey is spurious, though willing to grant that some of the meaner parts might be the work of another poet: "I am only in part of Bentley's mind, (if indeed his mind were such, ) in this matter; and giant as he was in learning, and eagle-eyed in criticism, am persuaded, convinced, and sure, (can I be more positive?) that except from the moment . when tee Itnacans begin to meditate an attack on the cottage of Laertes, and thence to the end, that book is the work of Homer. From tne moment aforesaid, i yield the point, or rather have never, since I had any skill in Homer, felt mj$:e±t at all inclined to dispute it. . . . The battle with which the book concludes is, I think, a paltry battle, and there is a huddle in the management of it altogether unworthy of my favourite, and the favourite of all ages. "2
When it came to the ilea that, since much of Homer's work was transmitted by word of mouth, there was in the collection a great deal that was not Homer's but was the invention of persons having some knack at versifying, Cowper decided to let "him believe the story who can. - He thought it likely that the poems were trans- mitted by word of mouth but that such a worthy Athenian as
1. To Walter Bagot, no date.
2. To Samuel Rose, February 2, 1790.
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Pisistratus, who was said to have been the collector, "could be so imposed on, with sufficient means of detection at hand, "r he could not believe. ""Would he not be on his guard? Would not a difference of stile and manner have occurred? would not that difference have excited a suspicion? Would not that suspicion have led to enquiry, and would not that enquiry have issued in detection? For how easy was it in the multitude of Homer-conners to find two, ten, twenty possessed of the questionable passage, and by confronting them with the impudent imposter, to convict him? Abeas ergo in malam rem cum istis tuis hailucinationibus, Vilioisone! 1,1
Aroused at Villoison's attack on the authorship even of
Darts of the Odyssey, Cowper was most indignant when Pinkerton
questioned Homer's authorship of any of the poems attributed
to him. For that there was no answer but irony. ". . . it is
now shrewdly suspected that Homer did not compose the poems for
which he ha:s been so long applauded ... 1 fear that Homers,
case is desperate. after the lapse of so many generations it
would be a difficult matter to elucidate a question which time
and moiern ingenuity together combine to puzzle. and I suppose
that it were in vain for an honest plain man to enquire, if Homer
did not write the Iliad and Odyssey, who did? The answer would
undoubtedly be - It is no matter. He did not, which is all that
2
I undertook to prove. " Evidently these questions did not shake Cowper's faith.
1. To Walter Bagot, no date.
2. To John Newton, November 5, 17B5.
69
Though to many of the classical stihool the worship of Virgil entailed the belittling of Homer, at least in Cowper1 s case adniration of Homer did not bring with it disregard of Virgil. He never praised Virgil so unreservedly as he did Homer, But he did consider that nis work had singular beauty, and he was highly incensed at adverse criticism of him. Pinkerton de- riled Virgil at the same time he questioned Homer's work, even going so far as to say that Virgil never wrote a line worth reading. To this, Cowper responded: "But he that can find no beauties in Virgil . . . must either belie himself, or be, of ail creatures that live, the most destitute of taste and sensi- bility. 1,1
Naturally Cowper was interested in Virgil's description. His appreciation of it was to some extent on the same basis as his appreciation of Homer's. Conseouently , when Blair criticised Virgil for introducing ordinary matter into his description, Cowper disagreed. He declared his views to William Unwin: "He [Elair] is commending, and deservedly, that most noble descrip- tion of a thunderstorm in the first Oeoriic, which ends with
I n$eminant austri, et densissimus imber.
. . . When poets describe, he says, they should always select such circumstances of the sub.iect as are least obvious, and con- sequentlv most striking. He therefore admires the effects of the thunderbolt splitting mountains, and filling a nation with astonishment, but quarrels with the closing member of the period,
X. To lilliaa Unwin, October 22, 1789
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as containing particulars of a storm not worthy of Virgil's notice, because obvious to the notice of ail. But here I differ from him; not being able to conceive that wind and rain can be improper in the description of a tempest, or how wind and rain could possibly be more poetically described. Virgil is indeed remarkable for finishing his periods well, and never comes to a stop but with the most consummate dignity of numbers and expression; and in the instance in aueition I thin* his skill in this respect is remar- kably displayed. The line is perfectly ma.iestic in its march. As to the wind, it is such as only the word ingeminant could describe; and the words densiss imus inber give one an idea of a 3hower indeed, but of such a shower as is not very common, and such a one as only Virgil could have done justice to by a single epithet, ^ar, therefore, from agreeing with the Coctor in his stricture, I do not think the AEnetd contains a nobler line, or a description more magnificently tinisbed.
The verse of Lueilius, since he was one of the earlier Latin poets, Cowper feels may well have justified Horace's criticism of its irregularity. Horace, Cowper thinks, "did not mean to say, that he was chargeable with such in some instances, or even in many, for then the censure would have been equally applicable to himself; but he designed by that expression to characterize all his writings. The censure therefore was just; Luoilius wrote at a time when the Roman verse had not yet received its polish, and instead of introducing artfully bis rugged lines, and to serve a Darticular purpose, had probably seldom, and never but by
1. To William Unwin, April 25, I?B4.
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71
aceiient, composed a smooth one. Such has been the versifica- tion of the earliest poets in every country. Children lisp, at
first, and stammer; but, in tine, their speech becomes fluent,
1
and, if they are well taught, harmonious. "
Cowper was not always inclined to agree so thoroughly with Horace. In Horace's admonition to wait nine years before pub- lishing Cowper saw a deal of sense, but he relt that it was exaggerated, as perhaps Horace meant it to be. His reasons for this opinion are presented in the pleasing, semi-facetious way he so often taiies to set forth serious ideas. When he finished the translation of the Iliad, the first book of his translation was a year old. It then seemed to him so unsatisfactory that he finally decided to translate it anew. So he tells his friend Walter Bagot, "With the exception of very few lines I have so done and wa3 never in my life so convinced of the soundness of Horace1 advice to publish nothing in haste; so much advantage have I derived from doing that twice wnich I thought I had accomplished notably at once. He indeed recommenls nine years imprisonment of your verses before you send them abroad; but the ninth part of that time is, I believe, as much .as there is need of to onen a mans eyes upon his own defects, and to secure him from the danger of premature self-approbation. neither ought it to be forgotten that nine years make so wile an interval between the cup and the lip, that a thousand things may fall out between. . . . His in- clination may chEnge, and he may find some other employment more agreeable, or another poet may enter upon the same work and get
1. Southey:£ife and HorBs of William Cowper. Vol XI, pp. xx-xxi
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the start of him. Therefore my friend Horace, though I acknowledge your principle to be good, I must confess that I think the practice you would ground upon it carried to an extreme.
Cowper's enthusiastic defense of both Romer and Virgil, and his indignation at any questioning of their merit are ampie evidence of the estimation in which he held these ancient writers. This devotion to the classics kept him from ever becoming a rabid remanticist .
1. To Walter Eagot, May 20, 1786.
c
B. MAJOR ENGLISH FOETS
Cowper's romanticism is eminently demonstrated in his ad- miration of Shakespeare and Milton, particularly of Milton. He was not so familiar with the works of Shakespeare but he did consider him great in many ways, far superior to any of the classical French dramatists.
The interest which Cowper displayed in iVilton c sed his bookseller to ask him to edit a new, sumptuous edition of Milton, which was being brought out. This work, though never finished, gave Cowner amule opDortunity tor concentration on his favorite English poet. His work on the translation of Homer had proved exacting, and the indulging in the translation of Milton's Latin Doems did not altogether appeal to him. "But, " he said, "my veneration for our great countryman is eaual to what I feel for the Grecian [Homer] ; and conseauently I am happy, and feel myself honourably employed whatever I do for Milton.
Milton he considered to be "nerhaps the chief of all, who
2 n
have done honour to our country. He spoke of him as a man "whose very name I reverence. His admiration for Milton made him indignant against the abuse Milton had received both in his own day and at the hands of Cowper's contemporaries. Of Milton's contemporaries Nathaniel Lee became the object of Cowper's scorn: "I abominate Nat. Lee for his unjust compliment to Bryden so much at the expense of a much greater poet. Eut the world had hardly taste enough in those days to relish Miiton, and if Nat
1. To James Hurdis, December 10, 179L 2 To William Hayley, March 17, 1792.
f 0
74
was a Goth in that particular, Cryden was as much a Goth as he . . . ."1 Among Cowrer's contemporaries Thoiras V.'arton, and in particular Cr. Johnson, almost infuriated him in their criticises of "the excellent iran of injured memory, "z "this great man, this Greatest of men. . . . "J Johnson he termed his "abominable critic"3 and he anxiously awaited the publication of FayleyAs Life of V.ilton "because inpatient to have the spotless credit of the great poet's character, as a mar. and a citizen, vindicated as it ought tc be ... ."4
Johnson and fiarton were both rrejudiced against Milton be- cause of his Puritanism, a quality which of course did not at all
annoy Cowrer. Viartcn accused Milton of being so narrow-minded as tc repent of a coirnlirrerit he paid to the memory of Eishcp Andrews.
Such an attack on his ideal was too much for even the gentle Cowrer, v;hc wrote, "I would beat v.artcn if he were living .... I neither do, nor can, nor will believe it. K'ilton's mind could not be narrow 'd by any thing, and though he ouarrell 'd with Episcopacy in the Church of England idea of it, I am persuaded that a good Eishop, as well as any other 50od man of whatsoever rank or order, had always a share of his veneration.
£e have previously noted that Cowper considered that Milton "of all English uoets that ever lived, had certainly the finest ear,
1. To Willi*! Feyley, November 25, 1792.
2. To James Hurdis, November 24, 1793.
3. To Villi** Fayley, November 22, 1793.
4. Ibid., December 8, 1793.
5. To Valter Eagot, October 25, 1791.
6. To Lady Eesketh, f/arch 5, 1766.
75
and that V^arton held exactly the opposite opinion. Cowper also disagreed witb fart OB in his contention that Milton in his minor poems bad borrowed considerably.
Copper did adirit one snail displeasure in Ml It OB. Ee was glad when he had finished his translation of Milton's seven Latin elegies because he said the matter was "almost too puerile" for such a grey-beard as he. This did not, however, prejudice him against the versification which he thought 'feaual to the best of Ovid."1 As a whole, he considered the Latin poems 'certainly good, and a careful uerusal of them together with an inspection of Cr. • ohnscn's views on them made him promise Eagot that in a future letter on the sub.iect "it will be ten to one that your friend Samuel Johnson gets another slau or two at the hands of your humble servant .
Dr. Johnson came in for another slap in the discussion of Epttaphium Oimonis. In Cowper 's judgment this was "a pastoral . . . ecual to any cf Virgil's Bucolics,"* desuite the fact that it was one "of which Dr. Johnson (so it pleased him) speaks, as I remember, contemptuously."^ But what could one expect of Cr. Johnson? ". . . he who never saw any beauty in a rural scene was not likely to have much taste for a pastoral. In pace ouiescat!"* The lack of aupreciation for pastorals on Johnson's part prevented him from finding any beauties in Li/ci^as; this was one of the two
1. To Samuel Pose, October $0, 1791.
2. To Joseph Hill, November 14, 1791.
3. To Walter Eagot, May 2, 1791.
4. To James Eurdis, December 10, 1791.
1)
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capital instances in which he offended Cowper. The opinion of Cowper on the beauty of Lycidas and also his fullest presenta- tion of bis wrath against Ur. Johnson's criticism of >/ilton are found in one of his best known letters, the Thresh his Old Jacket letter, a letter which for content and epistolary quality merits full Quotation.
nVy Tear Friend, - I wrote try last letter merely to inform you that I had nothing to say; in answer to which you have said nothing. I admire the propriety of your conduct, though I am a loser by it. I will endeavor to say something now, and shall hope for something in return.
I have been well entertained with Johnson's biographies, for which I think you: with one exception, and that a swingeing one, I think he has ecauitted himself with his usual good sense and suf- ficiency. Kis treatment of Hilton is unmerciful to the last degree. A pensioner is not likely to spare a republican; and the Doctor, in order, I suppose, to convince his royal patron of the sincerity of his monarchical principles, has belaboured that great poet's character with the most industrious cruelty. As a man, he has hardly left him the shadow of one good quality. Churlishness in bis private life, and a rancorous hatred of everything royal in his public, are the two colours with which be h8S smeared mil the canvas. If he had any virtues, they are not to be found in the Doctor's picture of him; and it is wall for Hilton, that some sour- ness in his temper is the only vice with which his memory has been charged; it is evident enough that if his biographer could have discovered more, he would not have spared him. As a poet, he has
77
treated him with severity enough, and has plucked one or two of the irost beautiful feathers out of his fuse's wing, and trampled them under his great foot. Be has passed sentence of condemnation upon 'Lycidas, 1 and his taken occasion, from that charming poem, to expose to ridicule (what is indeed ridiculous enough) the childish prattlement of pastoral compositions, as if 'Lycidas' was the prototype and pattern of them all. The liveliness of the description, the sweetness of the numbers, the classical spirit of antiauity that Drevails in it, go for nothing. I am convinced, by the way, that he has no ear for poetical numbers, or that it was stopped by prejudice 8gainst the harmony of Vilton's. Was there ever any thing sc delightful as the music of the 'Faradise Lost'? It is like that of a fine organ; has the fullest and the deepest tones of ma.iesty, with all the softness and elegance of the Dorian flute. Variety without end and never eoualled, unless, perhaps, by Virgil. Yet the Doctor has little or nothing to say upon this copious theme, but talks something about the unfitness of the English language for blank verse, and how apt it is, in the mouth of some readers, to degenerate into declamation. Oh! I could thresh his old jacket, till I made his pension jingle in his pocket.
I could talk a good while longer, but I have no room; our love attends yourself, K'rs. Unwin, and l/iss Shut tleworth , not forgetting the two miniature pictures as your elbow. - Yours affectionately, 1. C.*1
1. To Ulliam Unwin, October 31- 1779.
I
78
Paradise Lost was in Cowper's estimation the finest production of the finest English poet. Ee deplored the fact that so few people really knew its beauties. f While I am commenting on the Paradise Los.t," he writes, "I comfort myself continually with reflecting that I write what nobody will ever read. It is in fact a wonderful thing., and r.o snail disgrace to us English that being natives of a country that has produced the finest poem in the world, so few of us ever look into it. I am acauainted myself with at least a score, who ac- count themselves pretty good judges of poetry too, and persons of taste, who yet knew no more of the poem than the mere subject of it, and would be ignorant even of that if they did not learn it from the title. 1,1
The fine oratory in the Fandaemonium he considered to be good as exercises to teach young John Gnwin dignity and propriety in delivery. Ee also recommended that he study L' Allegro and II Pe nseroso , of which he writes, "I remember being so charmed with them] when I was a boy that I was never weary of them. *2
Frobably Cowuer's joy in Paradise Lost was greatly enhanced by suggestions of Ferrer he found in it. Ee felt that Milton "had Eomer much in his eye when he composed that poem . . . ,"J This fact be set forth at various times in his prefaces to Eomer. In the preface to the first edition: "Paving mentioned Milton, I cannot but add an observation on the similitude of his manner to that of Eomer. It is such, that no person familiar with both, can
1.
2. 3.
To V.illiam Eayley, Vsy 9, 1792.
To V.illiam Unwin, January 17, 1782.
To William Payley, January 5, 1794.
f
79
read either without being reminded of the other; and it is in those breaks and pauses, to which the numbers of the English poet are so much indebted both for their dignity and variety, that he chiefly copies the Grecian. "1 The variety of pause which Cowper particularly admired in Homer he found also in K'ilton.
The advantage which cane from interspersing rough lines with the smooth Cowper found most clearly demonstrated in N-'ilton, "whose ear and taste were exauisi te . w* Pis illustration of this to Lady Feskett , using a selection from Paradise Lost, has previously been noted, in connection with his ideas on the advantage of rough lines over smooth.*
In Vilton, too, Cowper found precedent for his darling elisions, and at one time went so far as to attribute much of the majesty of his verse to those elisions. Even after Cowper had ad- vanced to the stage where he could call some of his elisions "horrible creatures," he still maintained that there were times when elision was necessary, and he probably felt that he had sac- rificed some which might well have been retained. To Walter Bagot he comrlains: "The unacaua intedness of modern ears with the divine harmony of kiltons numbers and the principles upon which he con- structed their, is the cause of the auarrel that they have with Elisions in Elank Verse. Eut where is the remedy? In vain should you or I and a few hundreds more perhaps who have studied his versification, tell their of the superior ma.iesty of it, and that for
1. Southey: Life and Korks of William Cowper. Vol. XI. pp. xii-xiii.
2. Ibid., p. xii.
$. See above, pp. £5-56.
that majesty it is greatly indebted to those Elisions. In their ears they are discord and dissonance, they lengthen the line beyond its due limits and are therefore not to be endured. There is a whimsical inconsistence in the judgment of modern Readers in this particular. Ask them all round, whom do you account the best Writer of Blank Verse? and they will reply almost to a man, Hilton, to be sure; Vilton against the field! yet if a writer of the present day should construct his numbers exactly upon Viltons plan, not one in fifty of these rrofessed admirers of V.ilton, would endure him. - The case standing thus, what is to be done?"l
Hilton's versification might be such that Cowper's contempo- raries would have difficulty in understanding it, but this could not be said of his diction. "Hilton ... is never quaint, never twangs through the nose, but is every where grand and elegant, without resorting to musty antiquity for his beauties. Gn the contrary, he took a long stride forward, left the language of his own day far behind him, and anticipated the expressions of a cen- tury yet to ccme."^ In fact it is in this connection that Cowper pays him one of the highest compliments, when he writes in the pre- face to the first edition of ficmer, "For so long as Mlton's works, whether his prose or his verse, shall exist, so long there will be abundant proof that no subject, however important, however sublime, can demand greater force of expression than is within the compass of the English language.
The style of Vilton was, as Cowper saw it, peculiarly his own;
1. To Salter Eagot, August 31, 1?£6.
2. To Lady Fesketh, Varch 22, 1790.
5. Southey: life and h'orks of William Cowper . Vol . XI . p. xi
81
be was inimitable, to write like him would make one a copyist not a uoet, but to emulate his example all English poets might well aim.
The particular example of Cryden 's poetry which Cowper commends is his erigrair cn Vilton. To L'nwin he writes, "I have often won- dered that Dryden's illustrious epigram on V'ilton (in my mind the second best that ever was made) has never been translated into Latin, fDr the admiration of the learned in other countries. I have at last presumed to venture uuon the task myself. The great closeness of the original, which is eaual in that respect to the most compact L8tin I ever saw, made it extremely difficult."!
Cowper did have genuine respect for Cryden 's poetic ability. Cne is not surprised to find him differing with those who preferred Fope to Cryden, in view of his opinion of Fope. He say* a similarity in the method of the two men but thought Dryden the better: "Eut I admire Dryden most, who has succeeded by mere dint of genius, and in spite of 8 luziness and carelessness almost ueculiar to himself. Kis faults are numberless, but so are his beauties. His faults are
those of a great man, and his beauties are such (at least sometimes),
o
as Fope, with all his touching and retouching, could never equal."
In the light oi some of the objections he had to Cryden 's writings and opinions, Cowper was commendably generous in his estimate of his poetic ability. Dryden's Fables he conceded were "for the most part fine compositions, . . . but," he added, "Dryden has written few things that are not blotted here 8nd there with an
1. To William Unwin, July 11, 1760.
2. Ibid., January 5, 1782«
62
unchaste allusion . . . ." In this connection Cowuer, who would never sacrifice high purpose for popularity, felt most strongly against Eryden. "Vthat a sycophant to the public taste was Cryden! sinning against his fellings, lewd in his writings, tho chaste in
n
his conversation!"
Dryclen was one of the less repulsive examples of the obscenity which was prevalent in Restoration lays:
"... rank obscenity, debauch'd their age; Nor ceas fd , till , . . .
* * * *
The muse instructed e well-nurt ur 'd train Of abler votaries to cleanse the stein, And cl8iir the palm for rturity of song, That lewdness had usurp'd and worn so long. Then decent tleasantry and sterling sense, That neither gave nor would endure offence, fihipp'd out of sight, with satire .lust and keen, The puppy pack that had defil'd the scene.
In front of these caire Addison. In him Fuirour in holiday and sightly triir, Subliirity and Attic taste, coirbin'd, To polish, furnish, and delight, the mind."^
The commendation given Addison in his verse far exceeds any Cowper had given birr in any of his letters. One wonders if this verse tribute is not somewhat exaggerated, especially in its at- tribution of sublimity to Addison. Other than this praise, Cowper concedes only simplicity to Addison, though that in itself is high praise from Cowper. He condemned Addison for his quarrelling
1. To V.illiair Unwin, January 17, 1782.
2. Ibid., Varch 21, 1784.
3. Table Talk, lines 651-632, 634-645.
83
"To what ireen artifices could Addison stoop in hopes of injuring the reputation of his friend I.** Re felt that Addison would not have been so hurt by Dennis's criticises had they not been in some degree .iust. That Cowper could be so generous in commendat ion of a nan some of whose qualities were so distasteful to him, shows once again the generous attitude which he maintained in his criticises.
"Then Fore, as harmony itself exact, In verse well disciplin'd, complete, compact, Gave virtue and irorality a grace, That, quite eclipsing pleasure's painted face, Levied a tax of wonder and applause, Ev'n on the fcols that trampled on their laws. But he (his musical finesse was such, So nice his ear, so delicate his touch) Made poetry a mere mechanic art; And ev'ry warbler has his tune by heart.
Cowper wrote at one time that he had filled a large sheet
with aniiradvers i ons upon Fope, and he certainly filled many more
sheets with such in his correspondence. The genius of the poetry
of Fope was diametr ici lly opposed to Cowper 's idea of poetic beauty.
To Fope, a line must "run as sirooth as ouicks ilver "; ^b ut Cowper 's
3
demKDd was for "a manly rough line." Cowper considered Fope to be the source of the craze for smooth lines, a fashion which greatly annoyed him. Kis advice was: "Unless we could imitate him in the closeness §nd compactness of his expression, as well as in the
1. To lilliai Dnwin, March 21, 1784.
2. Table Talk, lines 646-655.
3. To Joseph Johnson, no di:te.
84
smoothness of his numbers, we had better drop the imitation, which serves do other rurrose than to emasculate and weaken all we write."
Besides smoothness, Pope's verse showed the application of the "square" and "lins ■ which, however well anplied, could not take the place of inspiration. The condemnation of the mechanical quality in
Fore 's verse was one of the points on which Cowper and Dr. Johnson agreed. Of Johnson's critiaue of Pope, Cowper states: "I am bound to acquiesce in bis opinion . . . because it has always been my own. I could never agree with those who ^referred him. to Dryden; nor with others (I have known such, and uerscns of taste and discern- ment too), who could not allow him to be a poet at all. Pe was certainly a mechanical maker of verses, and in every line he ever wrote, we see indubitable marks of the indefatigable industry ana labour, inters who find it necessary to nake such strenuous and rainful exertions, are generally as phlegmatic sts they are correct; but Pope v&i , in this resrect, exempted frorr the common lot of authors of th8t clsss. Witfe the unwearied application of a plod- ding Fleirish painter, who draws a shrimp with the most minute exacts
ness, be had all the genius of one of the first masters. Never, I
2
believe, were such talents and such drudgery united."
Fore, though capable of simplicity, was very much given to affectation. The demonstration of this in his letters was, to Cowrer, who considered a letter to be of all compositions the one demanding naturalness, sufficient to make him, "except in a very few instances, the most disagreeable maker of epistles that ever
1. To Joseph Johnson, no date.
2. To William Unwin, January 5, 1782.
£5
I iret with."1 Ee said that Fope "seems to have thought that unless ■ sentence was well turned, and every period pointed with some con- ceit, it was not worth the carr iage .
"fihat vanity, what petulance in Fope! How painfully sensible of censure, and yet how restless in provocation!"^ /.gain we have Cowper coring cut against abusive criticise-, especially on the part of one who was himself so sensitive, and who "was the less pardon- able too, because experienced in all the difficulties of con-posi- tion."* l/uch as he en.ioyed satire, he could not acouiesce to such as he found in the Dunciad. Fore's censures there seemed so hap- hazard that Cowuer was auite willing to believe that when Fope decided that Ysatt deserved better treatment that inclusion he "thrust somebodys blockhead into the gap whose name consisting of a monosyllable happened to fit it."^ In the light of such procedure, Cowper might well say: "I have often wonder 'd that the same poet who wrote the Cunciad, should have written these lines
The Vercy I to others show, That kercy show to me.
Alas for Fope, if the mercy he showed to others was the measure of the mercy he received!"*
As an oasis in a desert of adverse criticism there is one commendatory word, even though grudgingly given: "Fope, when in- culcating one of his few usefull lessons, and directing mankind
1. To Williai Unwin, June 8, 176C
2. Ibid., Varch 21, 1784,
3. To Samuel Fose, August 6, 1?69.
4. To John Hew ton, September 18, 1781.
86
to the Providence of God as the true source of all their wisdom, says beautifully
Learn of the little Nautilus to sail,
Spread the thin oar and catch the driving gale."-^
Pope's chief offense in Cowper's opinion was his so-called translation of Homer. His adverse criticism of it needed some defense when presented to Lady Hesketh, who, we learn, had long admired the work. "Cne thing is to be considered, I did not air ways read Pope's translation with so critical an eye as lately; if, therefcre, I sry blemishes that e3cape you, it is not to be ascribed to my better judgment, but to that closeness of attention that the occasion naturally inspires. I well remember when the lines which have charmed ycu so long, delighted me as much; and had I not at last examined them by the light of Homer's lamp,
their defects, to this moment, had been hidden from me; such a
2
fascinating command of language was Pope endued with."
Assuming that Eagot might ask if he placed himself on a level with Pope as a translator of Homer, he says: "I answer, or rather should answer - By no means. Not as a poet. But as a Translator of Homer if I did not expect and believe that I should even surpass him, why have I meddled with this m atter at all?1'5 To contend with Pope for this honor, he was sure would allow of no negligence, for to do better than Pope would be "vast and invidious labour. "^
1. To John Kewton, December 15, 1783.
2. To Lady Hesketh, January 2, 1786.
3. To Walter Eagot, January 15, 1786.
4. To William Unwin, December $1, 1785.
f
i
67
Admitting that Fope had done a piece of work which one could with difficulty imnrove, did not imply that the work was satisfac- tory. Cowper was not alone in his opinion that it was not. He undertook the task of a translation, "Knowing it to have been universally the opinion of the Literati ever since they have allowed themselves to consider the matter cooly, that a Translation, properly so callei, of Homer, is notwithstvnd ing what Fope has done, a Desideratum in the English language . . . . ■* In substantiating this he auotes one of the Masters of Eton as saying that a trans- lation of Homer was wanted, and he tak?s great glee in reporting to his friend the Rev. Walter Eagot that Dr. Jackson, Dean of Christ Church, had "been heard to say and I give you his own words, (Stop your ears while I utter them) That Homer has never been translated, and that Fope W8S a D — d fool. Very irreverend language to be sure, but in consideration of the subject on which he used them, we vr ill pardon it even in a Dean. " *
In bringing forth the new translation, Cowper knew that he would be "under a disadvantage, and that many, especially many ladies, missing many turns and prettinesses of expression that they have admired in Foue, "would consider the translation defective. Eut he did not anticipate for it such a reception among the literati they, he said, "are all agreed to a man, that although Fope has given us two pretty poems under Homers titles, there is not to be found in them the least portion of Homers spirit, nor the least
1. To Joseph Hill, December 24, 1765.
2. To Wajl/ter Eagot, January 23, 1766.
3. To Lady Hesketh, February 19, 1766
k
88
i
resemblance of bis manner."1 Tbis inappropriate prettiness on the part of Fore Cowper briefly set forth: "Ornament for ever! cries Fore - Simplicity for ever! cries Eomer - No Two can be more op- pcsite."^ Cowper decided as a schoolboy "that there is hardly the thin? in the world of which Fope was so entirely destitute, as a taste for Homer."-' In those schoolboy days he and his chums were so disgusted as to want to burn Fope when they "had sought the simplicity and majesty of Homer in his Fnglish representative, and h8d found instead of them, puerile conceits, extravagant metaphors, and the tinsel of modern embellishment in every possible position. "^
Most of the foregoing bits were dashed off by Cowper in the heat of his emotion. His first presentation of the matter to lady Hesketh gives us a well thought out, clear headed, statement of his 1 views, unembellished and untrimmed, naturally more full than what might be included in a preface; witness Cowrer's introductory re- marks: "V.ith respect to the enterprise itself, there are certain points of delicacy that will not suffer ire to irake a public justi- fication of it. It would ill become me avowedly to point out the faults of Fope in a preface, and would be as impolitic as indecent. Eut to you, my dear, I can utter my irind freely. "4 After some di- gression he proceeds to the real natter: "loi for Fope himself:^ I will allow his whole merits He has written a great deal of very musical and sweet verse in his translation of Homer, but his verse
1.
2.
3. 4.
To John Newton, December 3, 1785.
To Mrs. King, April 22, 176?.
To Clotworthy Rowley, February 21, 1788.
To Lady Hesketh, December 15, 17&5.
89
is not universally such; on the contrary, it is often lame,, feeble, and flat. Ee has, besides, occasionally a felicity of expression peculiar to himself; but it is a felicity purely modern, and has nothing to do with Eomer. Except the Eible, there never was in the world a book so remarkable for that species of the sublime that owes its very existence tc simplicity, as the works of Homer. He is always nervous, plain, natural. I refer ycu to your own knowledge of his copyist for a decision upon Pope's merits in these particu- lars. The tardea in all the gaiety of June is less flowery than bis Translation. t/etathors of which Eomer "^dreamt , which he did not seek, and which probfbly he would have disdained if he bad found, follow each other in ouick succession like the sliding pictures in a show box. Ecrrer is , on occasions that call for such a style, the easiest and most farriliar of all writers: a circumstance that es- caped Fope entirely, who takes most religious care that he shall every where strut in buckram. The speeches of his heroes are often animated to a degree that Fope no doubt accounted unmannerly and rude, for he has reduced numbers of them that are of that character to the perfect standard of French good-breeding. Shakespeare him- self did not excel Eomer in 1 iscr iminat ion of character, neither is he more attentive to exact consistence and preservation of it throughout. In Fope, tc whatever cause it was owing, whether he lid not see it, or, seeing it, accounted it vn affair of no moment, this great beauty is almost absolutely annihilated. In short, my dear, there is hardly any thing in the world so unlike another, as Foue 's version of Hover to the original. Give me a great corking
90
pin that I nay stick your faith upon my sleeve. There - it is done. Now assure yourself, upon the credit of a nan who ir.ade Homer much his study in his youth, and who is perhaps better acauainted with Fope's translation of him than alirost any nan, having twenty^five years ago compared them with each other line by line throughout; upon the credit of a men, too, who would net for the world deceive you in the smallest natter, that Fope never entered into the spirit of Homer, that he never translated him, - I had almost said, did not understand him: many passages it is literally true that he did not. Vihy, when he first entered on his task, did he (as he did,, by his own confession) fcr ever dream that he was wandering in unknown ways, that he was lost upon heaths and forests, and awoke in terror? I will tell you, my dear. His dreams were emblems of his waking ex- perience; and I am mistaken, if I could not go near to prove that at his first setting out, he knew very little of Greek, and was never an adept in it, to the last."^
Of the remark in his preface, he writes to Samuel Rose: "I have spoken my mind, as freely as decency would permit, on the subject of Fopes 1 version, allowing him at the same time all the merit to which I think hiir entitled." And this is what he truly has done. To be sure, his views on Fope Acaref ully dressed up, but even this grooming for public anpearance has not been carried so far as to belittle any of the main criticisms. The preface begins with the idea that rime is not the proper medium for translation. On that basis he begins the Questioning of Fope's translation. "Hence it
1. To Lady Hesketh, December 15, 1785.
2. To Samuel Rose, September 1% ±790.
<
91
has happened, that although the public have long been in possession of an English Eomer by $ poet whose writings have done immortal honour to his country, the demand of a nsw one, and especially in blank verse., has been repeatedly and loudly made by some of the best judges and ablest writers of the present day.
"I have no contest with my predecessor. None is supposeable between performers on different instruments. Mr. Fope has surmounted all difficulties in his version of Homer that it was possible to surmount in rhyme. Eut he was fettered, and his fetters were his choice. Accustomed always to rhyme, he had formed to himself an ear which probably could net be much gratified by verse that wanted it, and determined to encounter even impossibilities, rather than abandon a mode of writing in which he hal excelled every body, for the sake of another to which, unexercised in it as he was, he must have felt strong objections.
"I number myself airong the warmest admirers of Mr. Fope as an original writer, and I allow him all tha merit he can justly claim as the translator of this chief of poets. He has given us the Tale of Troy divine in smooth verse, generally in correct and elegant language, and in diction often highly poetical. But his deviations are so many, occasioned chiefly by the cause already mentioned, that, much as he has done, and valuable as his work is on some a-ccounts, it was yet in the humble province 01 a translator that I thought it possible even for me to follow him with some advantage..
"That he has sometimes altogether suppressed the sense of his author, ana has not seldom intermingled his own ideas with it, is a remark which, on this occasion, nothing but necessity should have
C
I
92
extorted from me. Eut we differ sometimes so widely in our matter,.
that unless this remark, invidious as it seems, be premised, I know
not how to obviate a suspicion, cn the one hand of careless oversight:
or of factitious embellishment on the other. On this head, therefore
the English reader is to be admonished, that the matter found in me,
whether he like it or not, is found also in Homer, and that the
matter not iouna m me, how much soever he may admire it, is found
■i
only in Mr . Fope . rr
The difference which Cowper hoped was evident between the two translations he made concrete for Joseph Bill as follows: "I have two French prints hanging in my study both on Iliad subjects, and I have an English one in the Farlour on a subject from the same poem. In one of the former Agameirnon addresses Achilles exactly in the attitude of a Dancing master turning Miss in a minuet; in the latter the figures are plain and the attitudes plain also. This is in some considerable measure, I believe, the difference between my translation and Fopes, and will serve as an exemplification of what I am going to lay before you and the public."
Fopes errors in the way of translating did not exclude him from "the most celebrated association of clever fellows this country ever saw. . . . This association included Fope, Gay, Swift, and Arbuthnot, all of whom combined their efforts to contribute ballads to Gay's Hhat d'ye Call It. The success of this production Cowper did not hope to see reproduced in what he termed his "puny days."
1. Southey: Life and fiorhs of Killiam Cowper, Vol. XI. pp.vii-ix.
2. To Joseph Bill, J/arch 10, 1791.
3. To William Unwin, August 4, V/t5.
93
Swift like Gay was particularly fond of light verse, es- pecially if it was in satiric vein. As Cowper said, "Swift's darling motto was, Vive la bagatelle - a good wish for a philoso- pher of his complexion, the greater part of whose wisdom, whence^ soever it came, most certainly came not from above."! Cowper ex- pressed himself no enemy of La baiatelle but "neither so warm a friend, nor so able a one, as it had in him.
Of course, that satire of Swift's which was good-natured was greatly admired by Cowper. Bis particular pleasure in satire is well shown in his characterization of Swift and Arbuthnot:
"Nature imparting her satiric gift, Her serious mirth, to Arbuthnot and Swift, With droll sobriety they rais 'd a smile At folly's cost, themselves unmov'd the while. That constellation set, the world in vain Must hope to look upon their like again. "^
Arbuthnot as a satirist was more to Cowper 's liking because, though he resembled Swift and perhaps colaborated with him, his satire was more generally good-natured. Then too, Arbuthnot was a man of fine character, an exceptional ouality in the literary men of his day.
This desired ethical quality he found also in Thomson's Seasons. In recommending this work for the reading of young John Unwin he thought they "might afford him some useful lessons. At least they would have a tendency to give his mind an observing and
1. To William Unwin, Kovember 18, 1782.
2. Table Talk, lines 656-661.
c
c
94
philosophical turn. "1 Yihen asked his opinion of Thomson he showed real discernment . Though naturally he agreed with the sort of description Thomson foreshadowed, he was not blind to the limita- tions of Thomson's particular style: "Co you consider what you do, when you ask one poet his opinion of another? Yet I think I can give you an honert answer to your auestion, and without the least wish to nibble. Thomson was admirable in description, but it al- ways seemed to me that there was somewhat of affectation in his stile, and that his numbers are sometimes not well harmonized. I could wish too, with Dr. Johnson, that he had confined himself to this country, for when he describes what he never saw., one is forced to read him with some allowance for possible misrepresenta- tion. He was, however, a true poet, and his lasting fame has proved it.
In the ca3:e of Gray, Cowper was at first enthusiastic, but a later more judicial pronouncement is not nearly so complimentary. He writes at first to Joseph Fill: "I have been reading Greys V:orks, and think him the orly Foet since Shakespear entitled to the Character of Sublime. Ferhaps you will remember that I once had a different Opinion of him: I was prejudiced; he did not belong to our Thursday Society & was an Eton man, which lowered him prodi- giously in our Esteem. I once thought Swifts letters the best that could be written, but I like Greys better; his Fumour or his Mt, or whatever it is to be called is never illnatur'd or offensive, & yet I think equally poignant with the Deans. B* His next letter to
1. To Mlliarc I'nwin, January 17, 17&2.
2. To Mrs. King, June 19, 1788.
3. To Joseph Hill, April 20, 1777.
r
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95
Rill presents a much diiferent opinion: "Vie differ not much in our Opinion of Ut . Gray, when I wrote last I was in the Middle of the Eook. Fis later Epistles I think are worth little as such, but might be turnd to excellent Account by a Young Student of Taste & Judgmt."'*' As a noet, Gray at tines appealed very much to Cowper, we find mention in a letter of "that noble line of Grey,
Hyperions ^iarch they spy, and glittring shafts of War."
Goldsmith's manner, especially in theLeserted Village, natural- ly appealed to Cowrer. The romantic treatment of country lile and the moral tone were auite to Cowner's liking: "I have read Goldsmith's Traveller and his Deserted Village, and am highly pieased with them both, as well for the manner in which they are execute^, as for their tendency, and the lessons that they inculcate. "3
Furns 's pceTs were rresented to Cowper by Samuel Pose. Though he realized the poetic merit in them, he found them too completely romantic for his slightly classics1 nature. He would probably have agreed with Wordsworth in his contention for coirmon themes in common language, but Eurr.s seemed to him to have gone a bit too far in that direction. Again we rrust admire the unprejudiced way in which Cowuer commended what be round to be worthy, even though it was so clouded by what he could not approve. To Pose he wrote: "I have .t heref ore read Burns 's poems, and have read them twice; and though they be written in a language that is new to me, and many of them on subjects much interior to the author's ability, I
1. To Joseph Kill, Vay 25, 1?77.
2. To v'illiam Unwin, January z2, 1784.
3. To lady Eesketb, November ^0, 1785*
.i I ,n|L-
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think their on the whole a very extraordinary production. He is I believe the only poet these kingdoms have produced in the lower rank since Shakespeare, (I should rather say since Prior,) who need not be indebted for any part of his praise to a charitable consideration of bis origin, and the disadvantages under which he has laboured. It will be rity if he should not hereafter divest himself of barbarism, and content himself with writing pure English, in which he appears terfectly Qualified to excel. Ee who can command admiration, dis- honours himself if he aims no higher than to raise a laugh. "1
The language which Furns used was particularly troublesome to Cowuer. His next letter to Fose presented his despair of Burns 's finding readers in Fngland because of that language: "Poor Burns loses much of his deserved praise in this country through our ig- norance of his language. I despair of meeting with any Englishman who will take the pains that I have taken to understand him. His candle is bright, but shut up in 3 dvrk lantern. I lent him to a very sensible neighbor of mine; but his uncouth dialect spoiled all; and before he had half read him through he was ouite ram-feezled."
Rose had given him the poems, but lady Hesketh was unpreju- diced, and so we may feel that the opinion of Eurns given her was in no way colored by a sense of obligation. To her he wrote: "I think him an extraordinary genius, and the facility with which he rhymes and versifies in a kind of measure not in itself very easy to execute, apueers to me remarkable. But at the same time both his measure and bis language are so terribly barbarous, that
1.
2.
To Samuel Pose, July 24, 176?. Ibid., August 27, 1?£7.
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though he has soire huirour, and rcore good serse, he is not a pleasing poet to an English reader . . . Cowper was evidently not an
unadulterated, complete romanticist .
1. To lady Eesketh, /pril 11, l?t6
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C. MINOR POETS
Like all other critics, Cow per was inclined to let his af- fection for his friends enlarge their virtues and blind him to their errors. He was particularly art to look kindly upon such poets as had been educated at Yiestninster School, especially those who studied with lil there.
Vat Prior had been s V.estir inster boy, but he did not require
that Qualification to recommend hiir to Cowper. In Cowper 's Temple
days, the days of the Nonsense Club, Frior's charming humor, his
light-hearted daintiness of style, and his whimsicality appealed
to bin. Possessed himself of a similar good-natured wit, Cowper
i
greatly enjoyed "dear Vat Frior's easy jingle . . . ." The ad- miration which he had for Prior was by no means duplicated in Cr. Johnson. Quite the contrary. The Doctor's criticism of Prior furnished one more occasion on which Cowper railed at his injustice. In bis disagreement with Johnson on the point of Frior's imitating fiudibris in his Alma, Cowper was apparently more prejudiced than judicial; for one must admit that the similarities in the two are striking. Even Cowper admitted the similarity in measure.
When Dr. Johnson declared that Frior's verse was mechanical, Cowper rose to the defense, though he had been glad to accept that decision on Pope. One is inclined to feel that some prejudice entered in; for Cowrer admitted that Prior did put much labor on his verse. Fowever, disregarding prejudice, one can see how the charming ease of Prior would have a greater appeal for Cowper than
1. To Robert Lloyd, 1754
7
4 1
99
the polished smoothness of Pope. As for Johnson's criticism, Cowrer considered it most severe - a ir.ere display of critical acuiren - in fact an injustice. "His reputation as an author who, with much labour indeed, but with admirable success, has embel- lished all his poems with the most charming ease, stood unshaken till Johnson thrust his heed against it. And how does he attack him in this his principal fort? I cannot recollect his very words, but I am much mistaken indeed if my memory fails me with respect to the purport of them. 'Bis words,1 he says, 'appear to be forced ir.tc their proper places; there indeed we find them, but find like- wise that their arrangement has been the effect of constraint, and that without violence they would certainly have stood in a different order.' By your leave, most learned Doctor, this is the most dis- ingenuous remark I ever met with, and woula have come with a better grace from Curll or Dennis.''^
Familiar verse, we remember, was to Cowper's mind "one of the nest' arduous tasks a poet can undertake. He that could accomplish this task was Frier; many have imitated his excellence in this particular, but the best conies have fallen far short of the ori- ginal. And now to tell us, after we and our fathers have admired him for it so icng, that he is an easy writer indeed, but that his ease is not ease, but only something like it, what is it but a self-contradiction, an observation that grants what it is .iust going to deny, and denies what it has .iust granted, in the same sentence, and in the same breathr''^
1. To William Unwin, January IV, 1782
100
Cowper thought Johnson should have mentioned Prior's Solomon,
which Cowper thought was the best poeir Frior ever wrote both in
subject and in execution. Johson's ideas on Frior 's love poems
were to Cowper typical of what might come from one who knew nothing
of love. Johnson condemned Frier "for introducing Venus and Cupid
into his love-verses, ""^and concluded it "impossible his passion
could be sincere, because when he would express it he has recourse 1
to fables." This practice of Frier's Cowper defends: "But when Frior wrote, those deities were not so obsolete as now. Bis con- temporary writers, and some that succeeded him, did not think them beneath their notice. Tibullus, in reality, disbelieved their existence as much as we do; yet Tibullus is allowed to be the prince of all poetical inairoratos, though he mentions them in almost every page. There is a tasbion in these things, which the Doctor seems to have forgotten."*
The defense which Cowper makes of henry and Emma was surely another example of the friend supplanting the critic. Re seems to
have forgotten his own criticism of such questionable matter, ap-
»*• 2 rlied to the sentimental novel, in his desire to defend Frior
against the attacks of Johnson. "But what shall we say of bis old
fusty-rusty remarks upon Henry and Emma? I agree with him, that
morally considered both the knight and his lady are bad characters,
and that each exhibits an example which ought not to be followed.
The man dissembles in a way that would have ."justified the woman had
she renounced him; and the woman resolves to follow him at the
1. To Killiam Unwin, January 5, 1762
2. See above, p. 20.
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exrer.se of delicacy, propriety, and even modesty itself. Eut when the critic calls it a dull dialogue, who but a sritic will believe hie? There are few readers of poetry of either sex, in this country, who cannot remember how that enchanting piece has bewitched them, who do not know, that instead of finding it tedious, they have been so delighted with the romintic turn of it, as to have overlooked all its defects, and to hsve given it a consecrated place in their memories, without ever feeling it a burthen. I wonder almost, that, as the Bacchanals served Orpheus, the boys and girls do not tear this husky, dry commentator limb from limb, in resentment of such a; injury done tc their darling poet.',J-
Tbe reincarnation of Mat Prior in Cowper's day was, to his mind, Robert Ilc^i, who had been a scholar at Westminster, and who was a member of the Nonsense Club. Cowuer's views on the simi- larity of the two are found in one of the delightfully facetious letters he wrote during his Temple days:
" 'Tis not that I design to rob
Thee of thy birthright, gentle Eob, For thou art born sole heir and single Of dear Mat Trior's easy .iingle;
That Matthew's numbers run with ease Each man of ccrrmon rense agrees; £11 men of common sense allow That Fobert's lines are easy too; Where then the preference shall we place, Or how do justice in this case? 'Matthew' (says Fame) 'with endless pains Smoothed and refined the meanest strains,
1. To Viilliam Unwin, January 5, 1762
102
Nor sutler 'd one ill-chosen rhyme
To escape hiir at the idlest time;
And thus o'er all a lustre cast,
That while the language lives shall last. 1
'An't please your ladyshiu' (ouoth I, -
For 'tis my business to reply;)
'Sure so much labour, so much toil,
Eespeak at least a stubborn soil.
Theirs be the laurel-wreath decreed,
?>ho both write well and write full speed;
V;ho throw their Helicon about
As freely as a conduit spout.
Friend Robert, thus like chien scavant,
Lets fall a uoem en vassant,.
Nor needs his genuine ore refine;
'Tis ready polish1! froi the nine.' ■
Iloyd was a gentle scul, ucssessing wit and an easy manner, but not much of his poetry is memorable.
Another Y.estminster friend of Cowper's and Lloyd's was Charles Churchill, interest in whom affected somewhat Cowper's judgment of hie. Cowper was aware of Churchill's failings, and realized too his virtues; both are presented with moderate fairness in the fol- lowing :
"Contemncrar ies all surpass'd, see one, Short his career, indeed, but ably run; ehurchill; himself unconscious of his pow'rs, In penury consum'd his idle hours; £nd, like a scatter 'd seed at random sown, Vras l©ft to spring by vigour of his own. Lifted at length, by dignity of thought And dint of genius, to an affluent lot, Re laid his head in luzury's soft lap, And took, too often, there his easy nap.
1. To Robert Iloyd, 1754
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If brighter beans than all he threw net forth,
'Twas negligence in him, not want of worth.
Surly and slovenly, and bold and coarse,
Too proud for art, and trusting in cere force,
Spendthrift alike of money and of wit,
Always at speed, and never drawing bit,
Be struck the lyre in such a careless mood,
And so disdain 'd the rules be understood,
The laurel seem 'd to wait on his command;
Re snatch 'd it rudely irom the muses' hand."^
The failings have often been given great weight in judgment of Churchill, so much so that ore might do well to listen to Cowper's recital of his poetic worth, discounting only the superlatives as coming from a friend. "It is a great thing to be indeed a Foet, & does net happen to more than One Van in a Century. Churchill, the great Churchill, deserved ye Name of Foet. Such natural un- forced Effusions of Genius, the V.orld I believe has never seen since the Cays of Shakespear. 1 have read him twice, and some of his Pieces three times over, and the last time with more Pleasure then the first. The pitifull Scribbler of his life pohnson] , seems to have undertaker that Task, for which he was entirely unqualified, merely because it afforded him an Opportunity to traduce him. He has inserted ir it but one Anecdote of Oonseauence, tor which he refers you to a Novel, & introduces ye Story with Doubts about the Truth of it. But his Earrenness as a Biographer I could forgive, if the Simpleton had net thought himself a Judge of his Writings, & under the erroneous Influence of that Thought, inform 'd his Reader tret Gotham, Independence, & the Times, were Catchpennies. Gotham
1. Table Talk, lines 6?0-689.
104
unless I am a greater Blockhead than He, which I air fir from be- lieving, is a Koble and a beautifull Foem, I a Poem with which I make no doubt, the Author took as much Fains, as with any he ever wrote. .Vaking Allowance, (& Lryden perhaps in his Absolom & Ahithophel stands in need of the same Indulgence) tor an unwar- rantable Use of Scripture, & it appears to me to be a masterly Feriorrance. Independence, is a most animated Piece, full of Strength &- Spirit, I marked with that bold Masculine Character, which I think is ye great Peculiarity of this Writer: and the Times, except that the Sub.iect is disgusting to the last Degree, stands eaually high in my Opinion. Fe is indeed a careless Writer for the
most part, but where shall we find in any of those Authors who
a
finish their V^orks with the Exactness ofAFlemisb Fencil, those Bold & daring Strokes of Fancy, those Numbers so hazardously ventured upon & so happily finished, the Matter so compressd and yet so clear, & ye Colouring so sparingly laid on, and yet with such a beautifull Effect. in short, it is not his least Praise, that he is never guilty of those Faults as a Writer, which he lays to the Charge of others. A Proof, that he did not Judge by a borrowd Standard or fron Rules laid down by Critics, but that he was Qualified to do it by his own Native Powers and his great Superiority of Genius. For Ee that wrote so much, & so fast, would through Inadvertence and Hurry unavoidably have departed from Rules, which he might have found in Eooks, but his own truly poetical Talent was a Guide which could not suffer hiir to Err. A Face Horse is gracefull in his swiftest Face, & never makes an awkward Motion though he is pushd
(
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105
to his utmost Speed. I Carthorse mi^t perhaps be taught to play
Tricks in the Biding School, & might France & (Jurvet like his
Fetters, but at some unlucky time would be sure to betray the
Faseness of his Original. It is an affair of very little Consequence
perhaps to the Well-being of Mankind, but I cannot help regretting
1
that he died so soon."-
A closer friend to Cowper than any of his Westminster fellows was Willie* Hayley. The two were brought together by their work on Vilton, Cowper editing the poems and Hayley writing the life. Cowper 's appreciation of Hayley was based upon his friendship more than upon his poetry. Lady Eesketh admired Hayley 's poetry and Cowper wrote to her, "he has other charms in my eyes, and charms incomparably more engaging than those of verse; let it be beauti- ful as it may. His candour, liberality, generosity, have won my heart, 8nd I account him the chief acauisition that my own verse has ever procured ire." Cowper may have been right, for there were few who took greater interest in his welfare than did "Brother" Eayley. The poetry of Fayiey often received the kindest praise frorr Cowper, but he never used superlative terms in his criticisms. Of the Poems and Plays, he said: "I ras greatly struck with the evident facility with which they were written.."^ Various other occasional bits he terms beautiful, excellent in thought and versification. He commends his sprightly wit and speaks of verses sent,, together with a present of honey, as being "as sweet as the
1. To V.illiair I'nwin, no date.
2. To lady Ersketh, March 25, 17V2.
3. To William Eayley, April 15, 1792.
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honey that they accompany; - kind, friendly, witty, and elegant.."! Surely none of this could be called extraordinary praise. One may conclude that Cowper measured Hayley's poetic work with some accuracy. His Life of Milton received from Cowper distinct commendation.. When Eayley wondered if it might be too long, Cowper replied: "How should it be too lone? I well-written work, sensible and spirited, such as yours was when I saw it, is never so. After the two had com- pleted their combined work of final revision, Cowper wrote to Hurdis: "It is now finished, and a very finished work it is; and one thief will do great honour, I am persuaded, to the biographer, and the excellent man of in.iured memory who is the subject of it."^
The religious in Cowper brought him to the defense of others besides i/ilton. It never overcame the poetic element in his judg- ment, but often assisted it. Such was the case with Isaac Watt ft, ihe excellent hymns which Cowper wrote recommend him as better Qualified to judge Isaac latte than were Johnson and Fope, neither of whom had a very high opinion ot him. That he is worthy of com- meniation is demonstrated in such animated expression as "Joy to the World" and such beautiful faith as is in "Oh, God, our help in ages past." Cowper considered him to be "a man of true poetical ability, careless: indeed for the most part, and inattentive too often to those niceties which constitute Elegancy of expression, but freauently sublime in his conceptions and masterly in his Execution. *
1. To filliai Eayley, October 1^, 1792.
2. Ibid., October 5, 1793.
3. To James Hurdis, November 24, 1793.
4. To John Newton, September IS, 1781.
107
Fishop Lowth when a boy at Winchester wrote a poem on the genealogy of Christ as pictured in the east window of the college chapel. It was probably this poem which Cowper referred to when he wrote of the excellence of Vr. Lowth 's youthful verse, including" in his discussion an interesting exposition of the usual difficul- ties in schoolboy verse and the reasons for them: "I thank you for Vr. Icwth's verses. They are so good, that had I been present
when he suoke them, I should have trembled for the boy, lest the man should disarpoint the hopes such early genius had given birth to. It is not common to see so lively a fancy so correctly managed, and so iree from irregular exuberances, at so unexperi- enced an age; fruitful, yet not wanton, and gay without being tawdry. When schoolboys write verse, if they have any fire at all, it generally spends itself in flashes, and transient sparks, which may indeed suggest an expectation of something better herealter, but deserve not to be much commended for any real merit of tb^ir own. Their wit is generally lorced, and false, and their sublimity,
if they affect any, bombast. I remember well when it was thus with me, and when a turgid, noisy, unmeaning speech in a tragedy, which I should now laugh at, aftorded me raptures, and filled me with wonder. It is not in general till reading and observation have settled the taste that we can give the prize to the best writing, in ureferenje to the worst, k'uch less are we able to execute what is good ourselves. But Lowth seems to have stepped into excellence at once, and to have gained by intuition, what we little folks are happy, if we cen learn at last, after much labour
108
or our own, and instruction of others."
The poetry of his contemporaries and near contemporaries, especially of the minor poets, was not, as Cowper himself admitted, very familiar to him. He did have some ecouaintance with a number of writers and touched upon their merits or failings from tine to time in his letters. Sir rdchard tieckmore he felt to have been given unwarranted praise by Lr. Johnson. Cowper 's opinion was that Biackmore "though he shines in his poem called Creation, has written more absurdities in Verse than any ■Writer 01 our Country... Biackmore knew little ot poetry, wrote only for a pastime:, and found commendation from Johnson, very probably because of the Whig element in his writing. The piety in Creation was probably the reason for its arpeal to Cowper.
Dr . Jortin, a classical scholar ot the day, particularly pleased Cowper by his latin verse, In brev itatem vitce spatii hominibue concessi. Of this Cowper wrote, "It is a beautifull
composition, it is tender touching and elegant. It is not easy
x
to do it .iustice in English - as for example - . . . . " Then follows Cowper 's translation, On the Shortness of Human Life, which
if it is a poor imitation of its original, speaks highly for the lovely ideality of that original.
At least one of Hunt ingf ord 's odes met with Cowper 's approval; in tact:, Cowper, who considered expression the all-important thing in an ode, allowed the expression of this one to be "faultless.
1. To William Unwin, February 9, 1782.
2. To John Newton, September 18, 1781. $. To lillian Unwin, January /.'i, l'/84. 4. Ibil., October '22, 1785.
4
109
Hawkins Erown he rated as "witty ana elegant" and a better poet than himself., perhaps more by way of a modest compliment than a judicial opinion. A certain production of Garrick's he asked pardon for judging as "wonderfully Silly. xU
Satire, though Cowper's icy when rightly used:, was the object of his disgusted reproof when it degenerated into abuse. Dr. John Woloott, who lampooned everything and everyone from George III down, was to Cowper "that licentious lampooner of dignities."* Cowper ana his fiitnds agreed that it was "great pity, considering the ill effect of such political ribaldry on the minds of the multitude, that the court has not stopped his mouth with a bribe;- nobody doubted that he wouia open it wide enough for the reception of 8 large one. Fow contemptible is wit so miserably misemployed!"
There were some minor figures of the day who gained Cowper's attention either by their own solicitations or upon his bookseller' reauest tor criticism of their work. One who maae bis own plea was James Eurdis, then a comparatively young man. Cowper was inclined to conirend Eurdis rather highly especially for the V ilaie Curate, which was popular at the time, and which went through lour editions Eurdis appreciated nature; at times he wrote elegant lines; but he was in the main monotonous, and he has been characterized as at best a uale copy of Cowper. In reply to Eurdis's first letter,. Cowper wrote in part, "I have always entertained:, and have occa- sionally avowed, e great degree of respect for the abilities of
1. To John tfewton, September 18, 1781.
2. To Joseph Hill, March 10, 1764,
$. To lady Eesketh, September 8, I7fc7.
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110
the unknown author of The Village Curat e, unknown at that tins, but now well known, and not to me only, but to many. . . . you will rerceive therefore that you are no longer an author incognito. •the writer indeed of many passages that have fallen from your pen could not long continue so. Let genius, true genius:, conceal it- self where it may, we may say of it, as the young man in Terence of his beautiful mistress, 'Diu latere non potest. In a Post
Script to this letter Cowuer asked what Burdis meant to do with his drama, Sir Thomas More, "For though I expressed doubts about his theatrical possibilities, I think him a very respectable person:, and with some improvement well worthy of being introduced to the public. later correspondence reveals that the drama was revised with a view to making of it e closet drama, and presented to Oowper for his criticism. Cowuer replied: "I have read your play carefully,, and with great pleasure., it seems now to be a performance that cannot fail to do you much credit. "Yet , unless my memory deceives me, the scene between Cecilia and Heron in the garden has lost something that uleased me much when I saw it first; and I am not sure that you have not likewise obliterated an account of Sir Thomas 's execution,,, that I found very uathetic. It would be strange if in these two parti- culars I should seem to miss what never existed; you. will presently know whether I am as good at remembering what I never sj.y, as 1 am at forgetting what I have seen. But if I am right, I cannot help recommending the omitted passages to your reconsideration. If the play were designed for representation, 1 should be apt to think
1. To James Hurdis, Varch 6, 1791.
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Cecilia's first speech rather too long, and should prefer to have it broken into dialogue:, by an interposition now and then from one of her sisters. Eut since it is designed, as I understand, for the closet only, that oo.iection seeirs of no import ance ; at no rate, however,- would 1 expunge it; because it is both prettily imagined, and elegantly written."^"
Another production of Eurdis's was Cursory Remarks upon the Arrangement of the Plays of Shaftespear, occasioned by reading Mr. Malone's Essays on the Chronological Order of those celebrated pieces. Cowuer confessed himself an incompetent .iudge on the matter but felt Eurdis's views to be worthy of approval: "I have read your Cursory Remarks, and am much pleased with the style and the argument. Whether the latter be nev.! or not, I am not competent to .iudge; if it be, you are entitled to much praise for the invention of it. V-here other data are wanting to ascertain the time when an author of many pieces wrote each in particular, there can be no better criterion by which to determine the point, than the irore or less proficiency manifested in the composition. Of this proficien- cy, where it anuears, and of those plays in which it appears not,
you seen' to me to have judged well and truly; and consequently I
1
approve of your arrangement."
The suggestions of Eurdis for Cowper 's Bomer Cowper felt to be most accurate and helpful. He judged him to have an elegance of manner in his letter writing. At writing epitaphs Eurdis did not commend himself so well. Fegarding one which he wrote for his
1. To James Eurdis, K'arch 2$, 1792.
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sister Cowper wrote to Fayley: "In his epitaph I have node much alteration, but nothing I percieve . . . will ever make it a good one."^" In recoc nendirg him to Bagct as a candidate tor the Foetry Frof essorsbip at Oxford (to which he was later appointed) Cowper presents h irr. as "the /utbcr of several pieces of poetry publish 'd without his name, but with good succes, and well deserving it. ... k man or probity, and talents, much a Gentleman, and an excellent scholar." Hurdis was a protege of Cowper 's, one in whom he took iruch interest, and upon whose efforts he was more apt to exert in- dulgence than judgment.
k r3auest iron Johnson to review the Athenaid for one of the popular Reviews focused Cowper 's attention for a time on that weariJy lengthy epic of Richard Glover's. Cowper 's kindest eye found little to commend sfter the long .iourney through its mazes. Bie first attempt he reported despairingly to Rose: "On Saturday I read the first book of the Athenaid , and it is a sad thing, but a true, that I must read it again before I shall understand it. This bodes not much felicity to the memory of poor Glover, but I will hope that the gloom which hangs over his cutset will clear away as I proceed. Apollo and all Farnassus know, or ought to know., that I enter on his work with the best dispositions in the world to be charmed with it. "5 In the midst of his laborious task he wrote of it: "The /thenaid sleeps while I write this. I have made Tables of Contents for 12 Books of it, and have yet eight to
1. To Ydlliam Hayley, October 2, 1792
2. To Walter Eagot, March 4, 1793.
3. To Samuel Pose, January 19, l'/B9.
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analyse. I must then give soirewbat like a Critical account of the whole, as Critical at least as the brevity it will be necessiary to observe, will allow. A Foem consisting of 20 Eooks could not per- haps hope for irany Readers who would go fairly through it, and this has possibly miss 'd a part of the praise it eight have received had the story been comprized within more reasonable limits. I am the more persuaded that this is the case having found in it many passages to adirire. It is condemn 'd I dare say by those who hive never read the half of it. At the sane time I do not lean to say that it is on the whole a first-rate, poem, but certainly it does not deserve to be cast aside as lumber, the treatment which I arc told it has generally met witb."l
Among those who solicited Cowper's opinion of their poems were two Welcbmen, - both lawyers, - Walter Cburchey and one Cadwallader. Churchey wrote much religious verse, and persisted in continued publication in spite of his poor success. The best that Cowper could concede him was: "I find your versification smooth, your language correct and forcible, and especially in your translation of the Art ot Fainting. n A summary of his advise concerning Churchey 's publication of his verse is found m a letter to Lady Hesketh written soon after the letter to Churchey: "I have answered the Yielshman's letter, and have a hope that I shall hear no more of him. He desired my advice, whether to publish or not. In answer, I congratulated him on the possession of a poetical talent, with which he might always amuse himself when fatigued with the
1. To Lady Resketh, February 4, 1?89 •
2. To Walter Churchey. December 13, 1?£6.
114
weightier EEtters ef the law. As to publication, I recommended it to him by all means, as the principal insentive to exertion. And with regard to his probability of success, I told him that, as he had, I understood, already male the experiment by appearing in print, he could judge how that matter stood, better than I or any man could do it for him. V.hat ccuid I say, my dear? I was really unwilling to mcrtiiy a brother bard, and yet coula not avoid it but at the expense cf common honesty." Cowper 's opinion of Cadwallader is else recorded in a letter to lady hesketb. After speaking of the calls made upon him he continues: "Al8s! in too much reauest with 6ome poeple. The verses of Cadwallader have found me at last; those terrible poeirs with which the V-elshman threatned me while you were here, and which I had good hope were
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lost for ever . *
Of American writers, the only ones with whose work Cowper arrears to have been familiar were introduced to him by an American edmirer. Regarding their work he writes, with particular mention of 'Iimothy Ewight, "I return you ny thanks, Sir, for the volumes you sent me, two of which I have read with pleasure, Mr., Edwards's beck, and the Conquest of Canaan, The rest I have rot had time to ready except Cr. Dwight 's Sermon, which pleased me almost more than any that I have either seen or heard.
Very likely through Eenry Fuseli, who did critical reading of Cowper's Romer before its publication, Cowper came into contact with
1. To lady Hesketh, December 24, 1?£6
2. Ibid., November 26, 1786.
3. To James Cogswell, June 15, 1791.
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the writing or Fuseli's German friend., Johann Kasper Lavater. lavater was something of a nhysicgnomis t , a poet, and for a time auite influential as an eloouent preacher. Of his Aphorisms, Cowper wrote: "I have also read most of Lavater 's Aphorisms; they appear to me some of their, wise, many of thee- whimsical, a few of them false, and not a few of then: extravagant. Nil illi medium. If he finds in a Kan the feature or duality that he approves, he deifies him; if the contrary, he is a devil. His verdict is in neither case, I suppose, a iust one."^
In his criticism of these minor poets Cowper was in general kindly and appreciative, but not often deceived into false esti- mates of their value except in the case of some of his friends.
1. To Samuel Rose, August 18, l7fcfc.
f
D. HISTORICAL WRITERS
The evening entertainment of Cowper, lirs. Unwin, and lady Austen was often furnished by Cowper's reading, with occasional discussion of the work.
The reading of L'Estrange's Josephus called forth criticism of both I 'Estrange, who was too much given to the use of vernacular and coarseness in his translation, and Josephus himself, whom Cowper regarded unfavorably as a historian, but to whose merits he ices scant justice: "I 'Estrange 's Josephus has lately furnished us with evening lectures. Eut the historian is so tediously cir- cumstantial, and the translator so insuuportably coarse and vulgar, that we are all three weary of him. How would Tacitus have shown upon such a subject, great master as he was of the art of description, concise without obscurity, and affecting without being poetical. Eut so it was ordered, and for wise reasons no doubt, that the greatest calamities any people ever suffered, and an accomplishment of one of the most signal prophecies in the Scripture, should be re- corded by one of the worst writers. The man was a temporiser too, and courted the favour of his Roman masters at the expense of his own creed; or else an infidel, and absolutely disbelieved it. You will think me very difficult to please; I quarrel with Josephus for the want of elegance, and with some of our modern historians for having too much. Kith him, for running right forward like a gazette, without stopping to make a single observation by the way; and with them, for pretending to delineate characters that existed two thousand years ago, and to discover the motives by which they
11?
were influenced, with the same precision as if they had been their contemporaries. R
On the other hand, Cowper was greatly pleased with Newton's Ecclesiastical Eistory, and praised it highly as one might expect him to do in the case of a production of Newton's on a religious subject. Eis commend at ion to Newton seeir.s excessive. He says of it: "I never saw a 7<ork that I thought more likely to serve the cause of Truth, nor history applied to so good a purpose. The facts incontestable, the grand Observation upon them ail, irre- fragable, and the Stile in my judgment, incomparably better than that of Robertson or Gibbon. "2 This preference for Newton over historians generally conceded to be his superiors is largely ex- plained by the following uresent at ion of Cowper 's opinion of Newton's style: "Viere I tc describe your stile in two words, I should call it plein and neat, simplicem munditiis, and I do not know how I couid give it .luster praise or pay it a greater compli- ment.."^ Newtcn ielt that such a surprising preference needed ex- planation, and so Cowper gave him an exposition of the reason for his ^reference: ""You wonder, and (I dare say) unteignedly, because you do net think yourself entitled to such praise, that I prefer your style, as an historian, to that of the two most renowned writers of history the present day has seen. That you may not suspect me of having said more than my real opinion will warrant, I will tell you why. In your style I see no affectation. In every line of theirs
1. To William Unwin, November 24, l'/£3.
2. To John Newton, June 13, 1783.
3. Ibid., K'ay 5, 1763.
lie
I see nothing else. They disgust me always, Robertson with his pomp and his strut, and Gibbon with his finical and French manners. You are as correct as they. Yon express yourself with as much precision. "Your words are ranged with as much propriety, but you do not set your periods to a tune. They discover a perpetual desire to exhibit themselves to advantage, whereas your subject engrosses you. They sing, and you say; which, as history is a thing to be said, ana not sung, is, in my judgment, very much tc your advan- tage. A writer that aespises their tricks, and is yet neither in- elegant nor inharmonious, proves himself, by that single circum- stance, a man of superior judgment and ability to them both. You have my reasons. I honour a manly character, in which good j:eiise,
and a desire of doing good, are the predominant features; but af-
t
fectatior. is in emetic."
Gibbon's style was generally repellent to the romanticist because of its gorgeousness . Robertson was received with more general favor and was a good historian, perhaps more correct if less original than P.ume. Robert3:on met with real favor in Cowper: "fie is an author that I 8drrire much, with one exception, that I think his style is too laboured. Eume, as an historian, pleases me more."^
In line with the growing tendency, Cowper took great glee in ridiculing Sir Richard Eaker's Chronicle of the Kings of England. This had been ouite popular in its day, and was considered by its author as the last word in accuracy. It was later proved to be in- accurate in many instances, and was much criticised. To lady Eesketh
1. To John Newton, July Q.H, V]&3.
2. To Illliai Unwin, June 22, 1780.
<
119
Cowp3>r wrote: "I have now just entered upon Baker's Chronicle, . . . . It is a book at which you and I should have la:ughed irc— moderately, some years ago. It is equally wise and foolish, which irakes the most ridiculous mixture in the world.
The Biographia Britannica aiforded Cowper considerable amuse- ment, although he did not feel that it hvA fulfilled its purpose. So many individuals of such varied fame were included in it that all were more truly buried there than memorialized. Cowper began ths reading with enthusiasm, but before long he wrote of it, "I think I have r^ad as much of the first volume of the Bio$rapftia as I shall ever read. I find it very nmusing; more so perhaps than it would have been had they sifted their characters with more exact- ness,, and admitted none but those who had in some way or other en- title: themselves to immortality, by deserving well of the public- Such a compilation would perhaps have been more .iudicious:, though I confess it would have afforded less variety. The priests and the monks of earlier, and the doctors of later days, who have signalised themselves by nothing but a controversial pamphlet:, long since thrown by, and never to be perused again, might have been forgotten, without injury or loss to the national character for learning or genius. This observation suggested to me the following lines, which may serve to illustrate my meaning, and at the same time to give my criticism a sprightlier air:-
Oh fond attempt, to give a deathless lot To names ignoble, born to be forgot! In vain, recorded in historic page,
1.
To Lady Basket fa, October 5, l*/b7.
120
They court the notice of a future age;
Those twinkling, tiny lustres of the land
Crop one by one, trom Faire's neglecting hand;
Lethean gulfs receive them as they fall,
And lark oblivion soon absorbs then all. * * * * *
Virgil adir.its none but worthies into the Eiysian Fields,* I
cannot recollect the lines in which he describes their: all, but
these in particular I well rercercber: -
'Ouioue sui memores alios fecere rcerendo, Inventas aut aui vitair. excoluere per artes. 1
/• chaste end scrupulous conduct like his would well become the
1
writer of national biography."
1. To John Newton, August 31, 17£0.
4
E. RELIGIOUS WRITERS
Froir. the tine of his conversion by Or. Cotton until he became fin in the conviction that he was damned, Cov/per came near to be- ing that sort of evangelical religionist knov/n by the uncomplimen- tary name of "enthusiast." That he realized this, is shown in a statement made in a letter to lady Fesketh. After describing hi£
new religious joys he adds: "What I have written would appear like
apt
enthusiasm to many, for we areAto give that name to every warm af- fection of the mind in others which we have not experienced in
•i
ourselves . . . . And he was undoubtedly right to a degree in bis representation of the use Of the term. His reading during this period was largely of religious books, and his letters were filled with his religious views and opinions of these writers.
Evangelical enthusiasm did not warp his attitude toward the Scriptures. £s he saw it :
*| critic on the sacred book should be Candid and learn'd, dispassionate and free; Free from the wayward bias bigots feel, Fron fancy's influence, and intemp'rate zeal: But, above all, (or let the wretch refrain, Nor touch the page he cannot but profane) Free from the domineering pow'r 01 lust; I lewd interpreter i3 never just."
The highly commendatory criticism he himseii makes of the literary Qualities of the Eible is probably not greatly exaggerated, unless in the case of the Prodigal Son. "fhe parable of the Prodigal Son,
1. To lady Hesketh, Juiy 1, 1765.
2. The Progress of Error, lines 452-459.
122
the most beautiful fiction that ever was invented; our Saviour's speech to Eis disciples:, with which He closes Bis earthly ministra^ tion, full of the sublimest dignity and tenderest affection, surpass every thing that I ever read, and, like the Spirit, by which they were dictated, fly directly to the heart. If the Scripture did not disdain all affectation ot ornament", one should call these, and such as these, the ornamental parts 01 it; but the matter of it is that upon which it principall\ stakes its credit with us, and the style, however excellent and peculiar to itself, is only one of those many external evidences by which it recommends itself to our belief.
A popular religious work in Cowpar's day was Thomas Newton's Dissertat ion on the Prophecies, which have been remarkably fulfilled, and are at this time fulfilling in the world. Cowper speaks of
o
Newton, who was Pisbop of Bristol, as "one of our best bishops,. ,r and as having written "the most demonstrative proof of the truth of Christianity, in my mind, that ever was published. "z Cowper felt that the book proved Catholicism to be anti-Christian, and commended it highly for that reason. In his praise of it to Iidy Hesketh he concluded: "Eut I leave you to the Eook itself, there are parts of it, which may possibly afford you less entertainment than the rest, . . . but in ye main it is so interesting, & you are so fond of what is so, that I am sure you will like it."* hven in their views on religious writers, Cowper and Dr. Johnson disagreed. Johnson admit- ted that the Prophecies was "Tom's great work," but haw far it was
1. To lady Hesketh, August 1, 1765.
2. Ibid., July % 1765.
3. Ibid., July 12, 1765.
c
12$
great and how much it was Tom's was another Question. i later article of the Eishop's published after his death, was less pleasing to Cowper. It 's plea for a second chance for the wicked after death seemed to the Calvinistic Cowper too much akin to Catholic purgatory. Regarding this, Cowper wrote: ". . . though he was a learned man, and sometimes wrote like a wise one, I see bim laboring under in- vincible prejudices against the Truth and its professors; shrewd in his interpretations of Prophecy, but heterodox in his opinions upon other religious subjects, and reasoning most weakly in support of them. How has he toiled to prove that the perdition of the wicked is not sternal, that there may be repentance in Hell, and that the Devils may be saved at last!.
Another popular religious writer was James Hervey. In spite of his platitudinous matter he was ouite popular, even with the learned and especially with the evangelical. He was gentle and kindly and a lover of nature. Such a type auite appealed to Cowper, who considered him "one of the most scriptural writers in the world, "and couli net give Fearsall the preference to him.
Fearsall was but a feeble imitation of Hervey, but in so far as he imitated his example he might hope to please Cowper. Cowper read his Meditations "with great pleasure, H "admired it exceedingly," and considered it to have real merit. His praise of the work seems to be founded more on its religious subject matter than Dn the manner of presentation,
1. Eoswell, Johnson, ed., Hill, vol. IV, p. 286.
2. To John Newton, April 20, V(t3.
3. To Vrs. Cowper, April 1% 1?66.
4. To Lady Hesketh, August 17, 1765.
124
The nature of Cowper 's remarks on Marshall seems to indicate that of the many Varshalls who were clergymen the one to whom he refers is 'Walter Marshall, whose chief work was The Gospel Mystery of Sane t if ic at ion. His work was popular, and was highly praised by Cowper's fayorite, Fervey, Cowper was early familiar with his work and he had received from it both "pleasure and edit ication. ■* His chief work was probably what Cowper had in mind when he wrote: I think Marshall one ct the best writers, and the most spiritual ex- positor of Scripture I ever read. I admire the strength of his argument, and the clearness of his reasonings, upon those parts of our nost holy religion which are generally least understood (even by real Christians) as masterpieces of the kind. His section upon the union 01 the soul with Christ is an instance of what I mean, in which he has spoken of a most mysterious truth with admirable per- snicuity, anl with great good sense, making it all the while sub- servient to his irain purport of proving holiness to be the fruit and effect ox faith. ... I never met with a man who understood the plan of salvation better, or was more happy in explaining it."
Martin Madan, a kinsman of Cowper's, furnished him for years with matter for discussion when he published Thelyphthora, a work in which he attempts to demonstrate by Mosaic law the divine sanction of polygamy. For years religious circles were agitated with dis- cussion of this astounding treatise. Cowper's letters are crowded with discussion of it for months after the publication; and for years afterward the ouestion was raised at not inireauent intervals
1. To Mrs. Cowper, March 11, 1767. 2. Ibid., March 14, 1767.
4
125
Righteous wrath and irony mingled with a gentler sorrow at the
error of his kinsmen. For some time he condemned the book without
having reaa it: "I will say of that book what 1 never said,, and
what no nan ought to say of any other, that I could answer it
without reeding it, deriving all my arguments froir principles of
i
mere humanity, fidelity, and domestic expediency." When he finally did read it his condemnation or its matter was strengthened by a distaste tor its manner: "I have at last read the second Volume oi his fork, and had