The Works of William Cowper - William Cowper

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is irksome, and, like a boy that plays truant, determine to avail myself of the present opportunity to be amused, and to put by the disagreeable recollection that I must, after all, go home and be whipped again.

      It will not be long, perhaps, before you will receive a poem, called "The Progress of Error." That will be succeeded by another, in due time, called "Truth." Don't be alarmed. I ride Pegasus with a curb. He will never run away with me again. I have even convinced Mrs. Unwin that I can manage him, and make him stop when I please.

      Yours,

       W. C.

      The following letter, to Mr. Hill, contains a poem already printed in the Works of Cowper; but the reader will probably be gratified in finding the sportiveness of Cowper's wit presented to him, as it was originally despatched by the author for the amusement of a friend.

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      Olney, Dec. 25, 1780.

      My dear Friend—Weary with rather a long walk in the snow, I am not likely to write a very sprightly letter, or to produce any thing that may cheer this gloomy season, unless I have recourse to my pocket-book, where, perhaps, I may find something to transcribe; something that was written before the sun had taken leave of our hemisphere, and when I was less fatigued than I am at present.

      Happy is the man who knows just so much of the law as to make himself a little merry now and then with the solemnity of juridical proceedings. I have heard of common law judgments before now; indeed, have been present at the delivery of some, that, according to my poor apprehension, while they paid the utmost respect to the letter of the statute, have departed widely from the spirit of it, and, being governed entirely by the point of law, have left equity, reason, and common sense behind them, at an infinite distance. You will judge whether the following report of a case, drawn up by myself, be not a proof and illustration of this satirical assertion.

      Nose, Plaintiff.—Eyes, Defendants.

      Between Nose and Eyes a sad contest arose;

       The Spectacles set them unhappily wrong:

       The point in dispute was, as all the world knows,

       To which the said Spectacles ought to belong.

      So the Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause,

       With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning,

       While Chief Baron Ear sat to balance the laws,

       So fam'd for his talents at nicely discerning.

      "In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear,

       And your lordship," he said, "will undoubtedly find,

       That the Nose has had Spectacles always in wear,

       Which amounts to possession time out of mind."

      Then holding the Spectacles up to the court,

       "Your lordship observes, they are made with a straddle,

       As wide as the ridge of the nose is, in short,

       Design'd to sit close to it, just like a saddle.

      "Again, would your lordship a moment suppose,

       ('Tis a case that has happened, and may be again,)

       That the visage, or countenance, had not a nose,

       Pray who would, or who could, wear Spectacles then?

      "On the whole it appears, and my argument shows,

       With a reasoning the court will never condemn,

       That the Spectacles plainly were made for the Nose,

       And the Nose was as plainly intended for them."

      Then shifting his side, as a lawyer knows how,

       He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes:

       But what were his arguments few people know,

       For the court did not think they were equally wise.

      So his lordship decreed, with a grave, solemn tone,

       Decisive and clear, without one if or but,

       "That whenever the Nose put his Spectacles on—

       By day-light, or candle-light—Eyes should be shut!"

      Yours affectionately,

       W. C.

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      Dec. 1780.

      My dear Friend—Poetical reports of law-cases are not very common, yet it seems to me desirable that they should be so. Many advantages would accrue from such a measure. They would, in the first place, be more commonly deposited in the memory, just as linen, grocery, or other such matters, when neatly packed, are known to occupy less room, and to lie more conveniently in any trunk, chest, or box, to which they may be committed. In the next place, being divested of that infinite circumlocution, and the endless embarrassment in which they are involved by it, they would become surprisingly intelligible, in comparison with their present obscurity. And, lastly, they would by this means be rendered susceptible of musical embellishment; and, instead of being quoted in the country, with that dull monotony which is so wearisome to by-standers, and frequently lulls even the judges themselves to sleep, might be rehearsed in recitation; which would have an admirable effect, in keeping the attention fixed and lively, and could not fail to disperse that heavy atmosphere of sadness and gravity, which hangs over the jurisprudence of our country. I remember, many years ago, being informed by a relation of mine, who, in his youth, had applied himself to the study of the law, that one of his fellow-students, a gentleman of sprightly parts, and very respectable talents of the poetical kind, did actually engage in the prosecution of such a design; for reasons, I suppose, somewhat similar to, if not the same, with those I have now suggested. He began with Coke's Institutes; a book so rugged in its style, that an attempt to polish it seemed an Herculean labour, and not less arduous and difficult than it would be to give the smoothness of a rabbit's fur to the prickly back of a hedgehog. But he succeeded to admiration, as you will perceive by the following specimen, which is all that my said relation could recollect of the performance.

      Tenant in fee

       Simple is he,

       And need neither quake nor quiver,

       Who hath his lands

       Free from demands,

       To him and his heirs for ever.

      You have an ear for music, and a taste for verse, which saves me the trouble of pointing out, with a critical nicety, the advantages of such a version. I proceed, therefore, to what I at first intended, and to transcribe the record of an adjudged case thus managed, to which, indeed, what I premised was intended merely as an introduction.[71]

      W. C.

      The following year commences by a letter to his friend Mr. Newton, and alludes to his two poems entitled "The Progress of Error," and "Truth."

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      Jan. 21, 1781.

      My dear Sir—I am glad that the "Progress of Error" did not err in its progress, as I feared it had, and that it has reached you safe; and still more pleased that it has met with your approbation; for, if it had not, I should have wished it had miscarried, and have been sorry that the bearer's memory had served him so well upon the occasion. I knew him to be that sort of genius, which,

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