iv] Letters 91
consolation in common things, till then neglected, but eagerly
seized upon by bis successors and transformed into material for
their profoundest and noblest art There is another field in which he
holds still a unique position—the field of letter-writing. It seems
an error to speak, in connection with Cowper, of the art of letter-
writing. If art implies the consideration of their effect upon the
public, no letters were ever written with less art In a letter to
William Unwin, Cowper says
It is possible I might have indulged myself in the pleasure of writing to
you, without waiting for a letter from you, but for a reason which you Tfill not
easily guess. Your mother communicated to me the satisfaction you expressed
in my correspondence, that you thought me entertaining and clever, and so
forth:—now you must know, I love praise dearly, especially from the judicious,
and those who have so much delicacy themselves as not to offend mine in
giving it But then, I found this consequence attending, or likely to attend
the eulogium you bestowed;—-if my friend thought me witty before, he shall
think me ten times more witty hereafter;—where I joked once, I will joke
five tunes, and for one sensible remark I will send him a dozen. Now this
foolish vanity would hare spoiled me quite, and would have made me as dis-
gusting a letter-writer as Pope, who seems to have thought that unless a
sentence was well turned, and every period pointed with some conceit, it was
not worth the carriage. Accordingly he is to me, except in very few instances,
the most disagreeable maker of epistles that ever I met with. I was willing,
therefore, to wait till the impression your commendation had made upon the
foolish part of me was worn off, that I might scribble away as usual, and
write my uppermost thoughts, and those only.
"With the exception of diaries Lamb, all the other great English
letter-writers—Gray, Walpole, Pope, Byron—wrote with an eye to
the printed collection. Cowper wrote partly for his correspondent,
chiefly for himself. His are, in his own phrase, * talking letters,'
He chats about anything that happens to be in his mind. If he
is suffering from his mental complaint, he writes a letter un-
matched for gloom, a letter that envelopes even a modern reader
in a black mist of misery. A few pages later, and he is playful,
gay, almost jaunty His mind was so sweet, and his interest
in the little details of life so keen, that the most trivial occur-
rence—a feat in carpentering, a bed of tulips, the visit of a
parliamentary candidate—can interest his reader still Acute
reasoning, sound sense, fine judgment fall into their places with
whimsical nonsense, hearty laughter and almost boyish affection.
He will break off a criticism on Homer to bid Lady Hesketh
'give me a great corking pin that I may stick your faith upon my
sleeve. There—it is done.' The whole of his nature, gay and
gloomy, narrow in opinion and wide in sympathy, ever fixed on