Page:Encyclopædia Britannica, Ninth Edition, v. 6.djvu/565

Rh works. It was the last and most violent expression of the amatory affectation of the 17th century, an affectation which had been endurable in Donne and other early writers because it had been the vehicle of sincere emotion, but was unendurable in Cowley because in him it represented nothing but a perfunctory exercise, a mere exhibition of literary calisthenics. He appears to have been of a cold, or at least of a timid, disposition; in the face of these elaborately erotic volumes, we are told that to the end of his days he never summoned up courage to speak of love to a single woman in real life. Soon after his return to England he was seized in mistake for another person, and only obtained his liberty on a bail of £1000. In 1658 he revised and altered his play of The Guardian, and prepared it for the press under the title of The Cutter of Coleman Street, but it did not appear until 1663. Late in 1658 Oliver Cromwell died, and Cowley took advantage of the confusion of affairs to escape to Paris, where he remained until the Restoration brought him back in Charles's train. Wearied with the broils and fatigues of a political life, Cowley obtained permission to retire into the country; through his friend, Lord St Albans, he obtained a property near Chertsey, and here, devoting himself to the study of botany, and buried in his books, he lived in comparative solitude until his death, which occurred on the 28th of July 1667, a period otherwise famous for the publication of Paradise Lost. On the 3d of August he was buried in Westminster Abbey beside the ashes of Chaucer and Spenser, where in 1675 the duke of Buckingham erected a monument to his memory. Throughout their parallel lives the fame of Cowley completely eclipsed that of Milton, but posterity instantly and finally reversed the judgment of their contemporaries. The poetry of Cowley rapidly fell into a neglect as unjust as the earlier popularity had been. As a prose writer, especially as an essayist, he holds, and will not lose, a high position in literature; as a poet it is hardly possible that he can enjoy more than a very partial revival. The want of nature, the obvious and awkward art, the defective melody of his poems, destroy the interest that their ingenuity and occasional majesty would otherwise excite. He had lofty views of the mission of a poet and an insatiable ambition, but his chief claim to poetic life is the dowry of sonorous lyric style which he passed down to Dryden and his successors of the 18th century.

1em COWPER, (1731-1800), the best of English letter-writers and the most distinguished poet of his day, was born on the 26th of November 1731, at Great Berkhamstead, Hertfordshire. His father, who held the living of the parish, was chaplain to George II. He married Ann, daughter of Roger Donne, of Ludham Hall in Norfolk. This lady, after giving birth to several children who died in infancy, expired in childbed in 1737, leaving two sons William (the poet) ami John. Cowper, who retained the most affectionate remembrance of his mother, embalmed her memory in one of the most affecting tributes that ever came from the heart of a son. At the age of six years Cowper was placed at Dr Pitman s school, in Market Street, Bedfordshire. His health was delicate, and he was in consequence exposed to the laughter and ridicule of his rude companions. One boy seems especially to have been the object of his terror. &quot; His savage treatment of me,&quot; he says, &quot; impressed such a dread of his figure on my mind, that I well remember being afraid to lift my eyes upon him higher than his knees, and that I knew him better by his shoe-buckle than by any other part of his dress.&quot; The cruelty of this bey s conduct was such that on its being discovered he was expelled the school, and Cowper was removed. The mental anguish he endured at this time aggravated, no doubt, the constitutional tendency to despondency which throws such a peculiar interest over much of his after-life. At the period of his removal from Dr Pitman s school he was afflicted with inflammation in the eyes ; specks appeared in both of them, and it was feared that blindness would ensue. He was in consequence placed at the house of an eminent oculist, where he remained two years, deriving little benefit from his residence there, his cure being slow and imperfect. At ten years of age Cowper was placed at Westminster School. In after-life he lamented that his learning at this time consisted entirely of Latin and Greek, to the exclusion of the more important matter of religion. Surrounded by strangers, a,nd unable from his unconquerable shyness to mingle with them on easy terms, his fits of depression grew darker and more frequent ; and those unhappy views of his spiritual condition, which afterwards produced such deplorable results, began to oppress his mind. In his memoir he relates some of his religious experiences. Crossing St Margaret s churchyard late in the evening, his curiosity was excited by a glimmering light, and he went to see whence it proceeded. A gravedigger was at work with a lantern ; and just as Cowper came to the spot a skull was thrown up which struck him on the leg. This circumstance gave an alarm to his conscience, and he after wards considered it one of the most valuable religious impressions he received at Westminster. His mental excitement was followed by the notion that he was exempted from the penalty of death, which in its turn was displaced by lowness of spirits and intimations of a con sumptive tendency. At thirteen he was seized with small pox, which completely restored his eyesight. Although threatened by consumption he seems to have excelled at cricket and football, and to have distinguished himself in his studies. It is curious to know that Warren Hastings, Churchill, Lloyd, and Colman were his fellow-students in Westminster. Cowper was taken from Westminster at eighteen years of age ; and, after spending a few months at home, was articled to Mr Chapman, an attorney in London. He seems to have most poetically disliked his new position and duties. Thurlow, afterwards lord chancellor, was engaged in the same office ; and Cowper describes their leisure as being spent in &quot;giggling and making giggle, instead of studying the law.&quot; The following is related of his intimacy with Thurbw a few years later. One evening, in tho presence of ladies, Cowper playfully said, &quot; Thurlow, I am nobody, and shall always be nobody, and you will be chan cellor. You shall provide for me when you are.&quot; Thurlow replied with a smile, &quot; I surely will.&quot; &quot; These ladies/ re joined Cowper, &quot; are our witnesses.&quot; &quot; Let them be so,&quot; answered the future chancellor, still smiling, &quot; for I will certainly do it.&quot; After completing his three years articles with Mr Chapman, he removed to the Middle Temple in 1752. The solitariness of his life at this time was productive of the most pernicious results. In his melan choly memoir he describes the dejection and unrest, tho horror and despair, he underwent during these miserable months. At length relief came. Sitting with a few friends by the sea near Southampton, the cloud of misery which had overshadowed his spirit so long rolled away, and so happy did he feel that he could have wept for transport had he been alone. Returning to London, and actuated by what he afterwards considered the instigation of Satan, he burned his prayers, and plunged into pleasure and 