Philips' "Splendid Shilling" (see p. 1). In the same year-1748-he left Westminster and remained under his father's roof for nine months. He was then articled for three years to a solicitor-a Mr. Chapman, of Ely Place, Holborn. It was settled that while he was there he should visit every Sunday an uncle of his-Mr. Ashley Cowper, afterwards clerk of the Parliament, who resided in Southampton Row. His fellow clerk at Mr. Chapman's-Edward Thurlow-destined to become hereafter (as Cowper often jestingly prophesied) Lord Chancellor-shared this privilege with him, and not only Sundays but much of the two lads' time was spent at Mr. Ashley Cowper's, whose house was the more attractive probably from the fact that he had three daughters, two of whom, Harriet and Theodora, were growing into womanhood. With the latter Cowper fell deeply in love, and it was to her, under the name of “Delia,” that his early poems are addressed. Harriet became engaged to and finally married Mr. Hesketh, who was afterwards created a baronet.

When his three years with the solicitor expired, Cowper entered into residence at the Middle Temple, 1752, and here the first shadow of that awful melancholy which clouded all his future life stole over him. He

became painfully depressed. "I was struck," he says, "with such a dejection of spirits, as none but they who have felt the same can have the least conception of. Day and night I was upon the rack, lying down iv horror and rising up in despair."

He sought relief in medicine and religion, and found some comfort in George Herbert's works, "but a very near and dear relation," he tells us, disapproved of that excellent divine's teachings, and Herbert-so well suited to his reader!-was unhappily laid aside. Mr. Hesketh, Harriet's lover, then took him to Southampton for change of air and scene, and this appears to have done him good. In 1754 he returned to London and was called to the bar.

It does not appear that he ever had, or desired to have, a brief. He hoped for an appointment to one of the patent offices in connexion with the House of Lords, the nomination to which was vested in a member of his father's family. Meantime he wooed and won his cousin, Theodora Jane Cowper, who was willing to run all risks, and even share poverty with him. If you marry William Cowper," said her father, alluding to his nephew's poverty one day, "what will you do?" Do, sir ?" answered Theodora, "wash all day, and ride out on the great dog at night."

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Probably Mr. Ashley Cowper's hesitation as to permitting the match became a decided objection on account of the sad despondency and restlessness of his nephew. He declared firmly that the marriage must not take place, assigning as an excuse his dislike to cousins marrying. No one, looking at the future which followed, can avoid allowing that Mr. Cowper acted wisely; Cowper's madness, and the excentricity afterwards developed by Theodora, prove that his decision was both wise and kind. Just about this time Cowper was summoned to Berkhamstead to the death-bed of his father, who died of apoplexy soon after his son arrived. He had married a second time, and Cowper had been very little at home

since that event occurred, but he loved the place full of boyish memories, and no doubt grief for his father's death, and the loss of his old home, bitterly aggravated the sorrow of his disappointed affection. Dr. Cowper did not leave much money to his sons. The younger, John, was then studying at Cambridge for holy orders; and Cowper returned to his lonely chambers, feeling all the more desolate because his uncle Ashley had removed from Southampton Row to Palace Yard, and had taken that opportunity of refusing to permit his nephew to visit at his house. Thus he and Theodora were for ever separated; she submitted dutifully to her father's will, but remained faithful to her love, watching over the life of her cousin with tender interest; helping him with anonymous gifts, and refusing ever to give him a successor in her affections. She carefully preserved the poems he had addressed to her; and near the close of her life deposited them in a sealed packet with her dearest ladyfriend, directing that the contents should not be inspected till after her death. Her friend and herself died the same year, 1824, and the executors of the former sent the packet to Mr. James Croft, whose relation, Sir Archer Croft, had married Theodora's youngest sister. He published from this collection a little volume of " Early Poems," in 1825.

The afflictions of Cowper "fell in showers." Next to Theodora he loved young William Russell, who had since their school days succeeded to his hereditary baronetage, and held a commission in the Guards. Suddenly, while bathing in the Thames, that poor young man was drowned. Cowper's spirits sank under these repeated trials, and his cousin Lady Hesketh, who sometimes saw him, tried to cheer him by playful banter. He answered her in lines of such deep pathos that she never forgot them, but years afterwards, when they had been long lost, could remember, and write them out. Our readers will find them at page 15, under the heading of " Disappointment."

As we have said, Dr. Cowper left but a small provision for his sons; it was therefore a boon to Cowper when his family obtained for him the post of a Commissioner of Bankrupts, which gave him a yearly income of 60l. He now bought chambers in the Inner Temple, and renewed his Westminster associations by joining the Nonsense Club," which consisted of old Westminsters. The president of it was Bonnell Thornton, Hill (who induced him to join it), Lloyd, and Colman. The latter and Thornton edited the Connoisseur, to which Cowper soon contributed.

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The "Nonsense Club" met and dined together every Thursday, and doubtless the wit and kindly fellowship of his old friends were of infinite benefit to the melancholy young man. His taste for literature was

awakened-a taste to which he owed much relief and consolation in his future years.

He contributed five articles (which are known) to the Connoisseur, amongst them is one on Conversation-the subject afterwards of one of his best poems. He produced also at this time several halfpenny ballads, two or three of which became popular, but they have been lost, to our great regret. He contributed to the St. James's Chronicle; joined his brother in translating two books of Voltaire's Henriade, said to have been

published in a magazine; and assisted the Duncombes in a translation of Horace.

But these literary occupations and social pleasures were about to terminate in an awful affliction. Pecuniary difficulties threatened the briefless barrister, and his near relative, Major Cowper, desirous of benefiting him, offered him two vacant offices to which he had the right of presentation-those of Reading Clerk and Clerk of Committees to the House of Lords. The office of Clerk of the Journals of the House of Lords was also vacant, and in Major Cowper's gift; but as it was less lucrative than the two former, he designed it for a friend, a Mr. Arnold, and offered the best to his cousin.

At first Cowper gladly and gratefully accepted the kindness, but almost the next minute repented. Wild fancies seized on him, that he had wished for the death of the former holder, and was therefore at heart a murderer, though he-Mr. De Grey-had resigned and was not dead; he had also a conviction that he could never speak or act in public. After a week's hesitation and mental struggles he begged Major Cowper to give the two lucrative offices to his friend Mr. Arnold, and the less lucrative, but more private one, of Clerk of the Journals, to himself. His cousin, with some hesitation, yielded to his wishes. But a new difficulty arose, a strong party in the House of Lords contested the right of Major Cowper to nominate. Inquiry and discussion followed, and the Clerk of the Journals-elect was informed that he must prepare for an examination at the bar of the House to test his qualifications for the office. "A thunderbolt," he remarks, "would have been as welcome to me as this intelligence."

He was now obliged to visit the office of the House of Lords to learn his future duties, and he tried for more than half a year to prepare for his examination; but in vain! In the autumn of 1763 a visit to Margate revived his sinking spirits for a time, but as soon as he returned to town his reason failed. Three times he attempted suicide; then, sending for Major Cowper, he told him what he had suffered, and returned him his deputation. His brother was sent for and came to him, but could not console or calm him; his cousin, Lady Hesketh, visited him, but he would neither look at nor speak to her. A visit from his cousin, Martin Madan, a strong Calvinistic preacher, served only to increase the agonies of his horror and despair. He wrote the terrible lines

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'Hatred and vengeance, my eternal portion,”*

and his distressed friends at length judged it expedient to place him in a lunatic asylum, to which he was removed December, 1763. The asylum was at St. Albans, the proprietor was Dr. Nathaniel Cotton, a man of great professional skill, moral worth, and some literary talent, whose "Visions were then popular poems.

Under the care of Dr. Cotton, Cowper slowly recovered his reason; but it was not possible (he felt) for him to fulfil any longer conscientiously his duties as a Commissioner of Bankrupts, so the office was resigned. He thus lost nearly all his income, but his family subscribed to make him an annual allowance.

* See page 27.

His brother was, as we have said, a Fellow of St. Benet's College, Cambridge, and to be near him was now Cowper's great desire. No place, nearer than Huntingdon could, however, be found suited to him. Thither he removed in 1765, attended by a faithful lad who had waited on and watched over him at St. Albans, and who having formed a strong attachment to the poor patient, besought Dr. Cotton to let him go with him. Huntingdon suited Cowper. "I do really think," he wrote, it the most

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greeable neighbourhood I ever saw. He attended the daily services at the church, bathed in the Ouse, walked, and began that correspondence with his friends which has given him a high place in literature, independent of that which he holds as a poet. For three months he lived happily at Huntingdon, then he wearied of solitude, and it was to be feared that he would have suffered from a renewal of his malady had he not happily made the acquaintance of the Unwins, the family of a clergyman who took pupils in Huntingdon. Mr. Unwin had formerly been master of the Huntingdon Grammar School, but had in 1742 received the college living of Grimstone. He then married Mary Cawthorne, a young, pretty, and clever woman, daughter of a draper at Ely. She, however, disliked rimstone; and to please her Mr. Unwin returned to Huntingdon, where he took a large house in the High Street, and prepared pupils for Cambridge. The Unwins had two children, a son, who at the time Cowper met him, had just taken his A.B. degree at Cambridge, and a daughter of eighteen years of age. Cowper's constant attendance at the daily services in Huntingdon Church attracted the notice of young William Unwin, and one day, after morning prayers, perceiving the stranger taking a solitary walk under some trees, he approached and addressed him. Cowper returned the greeting kindly, and was persuaded by his new acquaintance to visit his family, with whom the poet was charmed. The acquaintance grew into an intimacy, and finally Cowper persuaded the Unwins to let him board with them. This arrangement was every way advantageous to him; he was absurdly ignorant of domestic economy and good management, and had spent his twelve months' whole income in one quarter. He was considerably in debt also to Dr. Cotton. The Cowper family generously came to his assistance, and without consulting him agreed to subscribe annually fo. his support, paying the money for his use into the hands of his kind and thoughtful friend, Hill. At the same time they remonstrated with him through his uncle Ashley on his imprudence in retaining the servant lad he had brought from St. Albans, and also a destitute child, the offspring of profligate parents, which he had adopted and put to school; Cowper refused to abandon his protegés, however, and was threatened with the withdrawal of part of his income. At this stage of the correspondence he received an anonymous letter, it is believed, from Theodora, telling him that the writer approved of his conduct, and promised that if iny part of his income were withdrawn the defect should be supplied "by a person who loved him tenderly."

While the correspondence on this subject was going on, his new friends also manifested great generosity. Mrs. Unwin assured him that if the threatened reduction were made he should still share their home, and

enjoy the same accommodation for half the sum previously agreed on between them. Nothing, however, came of his friends' remonstrances; they did not withdraw their assistance, and Cowper spent a happy year and a half with his new friends. He has given the following details of his daily life during this period:-"We breakfast commonly between eight and nine; till eleven, we read either the Scriptures, or the sermons of some faithful preacher of those holy mysteries; at eleven, we attend divine service, which is performed here twice every day; and from twelve to three we separate, and amuse ourselves as we please. During that interval I either read in my own apartment, or walk or ride, or work in the garden. We seldom sit an hour after dinner, but, if the weather permits, adjourn to the garden, where, with Mrs. Unwin and her son, I have generally the pleasure of religious conversation till tea-time. If it rains, or is too windy for walking, we either converse within doors, or sing some hymns of Martin's collection, and by the help of Mrs. Unwin's harpsichord make up a tolerable concert, in which our hearts, I hope, are the best and most musical performers. After tea, we sally forth to walk in good earnest. Mrs. Unwin is a good walker, and we have generally travelled about four miles before we see home again. When the days are short we make this excursion in the former part of the day, between church-time and dinner. At night, we read and converse as before till supper, and commonly finish the evening either with hymns or a sermon, and last of all the family are called to prayers. I need not tell you that such a life as this is consistent with the utmost cheerfulness; accordingly we are all happy, and dwell together in unity as brethren."

During this period young Unwin left home to take a curacy, and his sister married the Rev. Matthex Powley, afterwards Vicar of Dewsbury. A more serious change was coming. On the 28th of June, 1767, Mr. Unwin was thrown from his horse, his skull was fractured, and he died four days afterwards.

Mr. Unwin had expressed a wish that if his wife survived him, Cowper might still dwell with her; therefore the two mourners resolved not to separate, and the Rev. John Newton (having just at that time been introduced to Mrs. Unwin by Dr. Conyers, of Helmsley) invited them to reside in his own parish, and offered to find a house for them. In consequence they removed to Olney on the 14th of September, 1767, but as their own house was not ready, Newton received them for a time as his guests at the Vicarage.

From this moment Cowper became the friend and assistant of the energetic curate, who devoted his life to his flock. Olney lies on the Ouse, in the north of Buckinghamshire. Owing to frequent overflowings of the river, the place was cold, damp, and aguish. The people were wretchedly poor, subsisting by lace-making and straw plaiting, and no educated person resided in the town except Mr. Newton, the curate. No place less favourable to poor Cowper's health of mind and body could have been found, but for a time all went well. Inspired by the enthusiasm of the ardent evangelical clergyman, he visited, read, and prayed with the sick, he attended prayer-meetings, and even himself