MY DEAR COZ.

LETTER LXXXV.

To Lady HESKETH.

The Lodge, Jan. 23, 1790.

I had a Letter yesterday from

the wild boy Johnson, for whom I have conceived a great affection, It was just such a Letter as I like, of the true helter-skelter kind; and though he writes a remarkably good hand, scribbled with such rapidity that it was barely legible. He gave me a droll account of the adventures of Lord Howard's note, and of his own in pursuit of it. The poem he brought me came as from Lord Howard, with his Lordship's request that I would revise it. It is in the form of a pastoral, and is entitled "The Tale of the Lute, or, the Beauties of Audley End." I read it attentively; was much pleased with part of it, and part of it I equally disliked. I told him so, and in such terms as one naturally uses when there seems to be no occasion to qualify, or to alleviate censure. I observed him afterwards some-what more thoughtful and silent, but occasionally as pleasant as usual; and in Kilwickwood, where we walked the next day, the truth came

out; that he was himself the author, and that Lord Howard not approving it altogether, and several friends of his own age, to whom he had shewn it, differing from his Lordship in opinion, and being highly pleased with it, he had come at last to a resolution to abide by my judgment; a measure to which Lord Howard by all means advised him. He accordingly brought it, and will bring it again in the summer, when we shall lay our heads together and try to mend it.

I have lately had a Letter also from Mrs. King, to whom I had written to enquire whether she were living or dead, she tells me the critics expect from my Homer every thing in some parts, and that in others I shall fall short. These are the Cambridge critics; and she has her intelligence from the botanical professor, Martyn. That gentleman in reply, answers them, that I shall fall short in nothing, but shall disappoint them all. It shall be my endeavour to do so, and I am not without hope of succeeding.

LETTER LXXXVI.

To SAMUEL ROSE, Esqr.

The Lodge, Feb. 2, 1790.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

Should Heyne's Homer ap

pear before mine, which I hope is not probable, and should he adopt in it the opinion of Bentley, that the whole last Odyssey is spurious, I will dare to contradict both him and the Doctor. 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 eagleeyed in criticism, am persuaded, convinced, and sure

can I be more positive?) that except from the moment when the Ithacans begin to meditate an attack. on the cottage of Laertes, and thence to the end, that book is the work of Homer. From the moment aforesaid, I yield the point, or rather have never, since I had any skill in Homer, felt myself at all inclined to dispute it. But I believe perfectly at the same time, that, Homer himself alone excepted, the Greek poet never existed, who could have written the speeches made by the shade of Agamemnon, in which there is more insight into the human heart discovered, than

ever saw in any other work, unless in Shakespeare's. I am equally disposed to fight for the whole passage that describes Laertes, and the interview between him and Ulysses. Let Bentley grant these to Homer, and I will shake hands with him as to all the rest. 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.

If you should happen to fall into company with Dr. Warton again, you will not, I dare say, forget to make him my respectful compliments, and to assure him that I felt myself not a little flattered by the favourable mention he was pleased to make of me, and my labours. The poet who pleases a man like him has nothing left to wish for. I am glad that I am glad that you were pleased with my young Cousin Johnson; he is a boy, and bashful, but has great merit in respect both of character and intellect. So far at least as in a week's knowledge of him I could possibly learn; he is very amiable, and very sensible, and inspired me with a warm wish to know him better.

W. C.

LETTER LXXXVII.

To Lady HESKETH.

The Lodge, Feb. 9, 1790.

I have sent you lately

scraps instead of letters, having had occasion to answer immediately on the receipt, which always happens while I am deep in Homer.

I knew when I recommended Johnson to you, that you would find some way to serve him, and so it has happened, for notwithstanding your own apprehensions to the contrary, you have already procured him a chaplainship: This is pretty well, considering that it is an early day, and that you have but just begun to know that there is such a man under Heaven. I had rather myself be patronized by a person of small interest, with a heart like yours, than by the Chancellor himself, if he did not care a farthing

for me.

If I did not desire you to make my acknowledgments to Anonymous, as I believe I did not, it was because I am not aware that I am warranted to do