than in justice, decreed that man s .ould live by the sweat of his brow; that, in the same moment that he was reminded of his punishment, he might find the toil itself a powerful alleviation to his sufferings, and the exercise of all his faculties the road to competency, to usefulness, and honour.

Two events contributed to exercise a most injurious influence on the morbid mind of Cowper, not recorded in his own Memoir. We allude to the death of his friend Sir William Russel, and his hopeless attachment to Miss Theodora Cowper.

Sir William was the contemporary of Cowper at Westminster, and his most intimate friend. This intercourse was continued in their riper years, on the footing of the most endearing friendship. Unhappily, young Russel was cut off by a premature death, while bathing in the Thames, amidst all the opening prospects of life, and with accomplishments and virtues that adorned his rank and station. This occurrence inflicted a great moral shock on the sensitive mind of Cowper.

But it was his attachment to Miss Theodora Jane Cowper that formed the eventful æra in his early life, and clouded all his future prospects. The relation of this fact is wholly omitted by Hayley, in compliance, we presume, with the express wishes of the family. It was, indeed, understood to be a prohibited subject, and involved in much mystery. The name of this lady was never uttered by Cowper, nor mentioned in his presence; and, after his death, delicacy towards the survivor equally imposed the duty of silence. The brother-in-law of the Editor,

the Rev. Dr. Johnson, conscious that a correspondence must have existed between the poet and the fair object of his attachment, requested to know whether he could be furnished with any documents, and permitted without a violation of delicacy to lay them before the public. The writer also was commissioned by him to solicit an interview, and to urge the same request, but without success. An intimation was at length conveyed that no documents could see the light till after the decease of the owner. The death of this lady, in the year 1824, at a very advanced age, removed the veil of secrecy, though the leading facts were known by a small circle of friends, through the confidential communications of Lady Hesketh and Dr. Johnson. We now proceed to the details of this transaction. Miss Theodora

Cowper was the second daughter of Ashley Cowper, Esq., the poet's uncle, and sister to Lady Hesketh; she was, consequently, own cousin to Cowper. She is described as having been a young lady possessed of great personal attractions, highly accomplished, and distinguished by the qualities that engage affection and regard. It is no wonder that a person of Cowper's susceptibility yielded to so powerful an influence. She soon became the theme of his poetical effusions, which have since been communicated to the public.* They are juvenile compositions, but interesting, as forming the earliest productions of his muse, and recording his attachment to his cousin. Miss Theodora Cow* Poems, the early productions of William Cowper.

per was by no means insensible to the regards of her admirer, and the father was eventually solicited to ratify her choice. But Mr. Ashley Cowper, attached as he was to his nephew, and anxious to promote the happiness of his daughter, could by no means be induced to listen to the proposition. His objections were founded, first, on the near degree of relationship in which they stood to each other; and secondly, on the inadequacy of Cowper's fortune. From this resolution no entreaty could induce him to depart. The poet therefore was compelled to cherish a hopeless passion, which no lapse of time was capable of effacing; and his fair cousin, on her part, discovered a corresponding fidelity.

The subsequent melancholy event, recorded in the Memoir, at once extinguished all further hopes on the subject.

How powerfully his feelings were affected by the death of his friend, Sir William, and by his disappointment in love, may be seen by the following pathetic lines, referring to Miss Theodora Cowper.

Doom'd as I am, in solitude to waste

The present moments, and regret the past;
Depriv'd of every joy I valued most,

My friend torn from me, and my mistress lost;
Call not this gloom I wear, this anxious mien,
The dull effect of humour, or of spleen!
Still, still, I mourn with each returning day,
Him, snatch'd by fate in early youth away;
And her through tedious years of doubt and pain
Fix'd in her choice, and faithful-but in vain!
O prone to pity, generous, and sincere,
Whose eye ne'er yet refus'd the wretch a tear;

Whose heart the real claim of friendship knows,
Nor thinks a lover's are but fancied woes;
See me ere yet my destin'd course half done,
Cast forth a wand'rer on a world unknown!
See me neglected on the world's rude coast,
Each dear companion of my voyage lost!

Such were the preparatory causes that weakened and depressed the mind of Cowper. The immediate and exciting cause of his unhappy derangement has already been faithfully disclosed, as well as the occasion that ministered to its cure.

Pursuing this interesting and yet painful subject in the order of events, it appears that, after spending nearly ten years in the enjoyment of much inward peace, he was visited in the year 1773, at Olney, with a return, not of his original derangement, but with a severe nervous fever, and a settled depression of spirits. This attack began to subside at the close of the year 1776, though his full powers were not recovered till some time after. What he suffered is feelingly expressed in a letter to Mr. Hill. "Other distempers only batter the walls; but they (nervous fevers) creep silently into the citadel, and put the garrison to the sword."*

The death of his brother, the Rev. John Cowper, may have been instrumental to this long indisposition. At the same time we think that his situation at Olney was by no means favourable to his health; and that more time should have been allotted for relaxation and exercise.

In January 1787, he experienced a fresh attack,

* Vol. i. p. 125.

though surrounded by the beautiful scenery of Weston; which seems to prove that local causes were not so influential as some have suggested. A much better reason may be assigned in the lamented death of his endeared friend Mr. Unwin. This illness continued eight months, and greatly enfeebled his health and spirits. "This last tempest," he remarks, in a letter to Mr. Newton, "has left my nerves in a worse condition than it found them; my head especially, though better informed, is more infirm than ever." * In December 1791, Mrs. Unwin experienced her first attack; and in May 1792, it was renewed with aggravated symptoms, during Hayley's visit to Weston. He describes its powerful effect on Cowper's nerves in expressive language, and none can be more expressive than his own, at the close of the same year. "The year ninety-two shall stand chronicled in my remembrance as the most melancholy that I have ever known, except the few weeks that I spent at Eartham."+ Cowper's mental depression kept pace with the spectacle of her increasing imbecility, till at length, yielding to the pressure of these accumulating sorrows, he sunk under the violence of the shock.

The coincidence of these facts is worthy of observation, as they seem to prove that the embers of the original constitutional malady never became extinct, and required only some powerful stimulant to revive the flame. Religious feelings unquestionably concurred, because whatever predominates in the mind furnishes the materials of excitement ; * Vol. iii. p. 263.

+ See Letter, Dec. 26, 1729.