of Hayley, of Cowper, and that of the philanthrophic hero, the illustrious Howard, than the military and regal reputation of your favourite Henry of France. Often, while reading history, do I exclaim, in the words of the philosophic poet, "Ah! what avails it me to trace the springs I admire the disinterested firmness of Sully's attachment to his intrepid Henry, and the inflexible honesty respecting pecuniary circumstances with which his ministry commences; but I want him to have felt and expressed more regret for the devastations and calamities consequent upon the struggles for the crown of France. You remember the tower which was blown up at Dreux, by Sully's advice. I can scarce forgive the ruthless composure with which he describes himself as standing bye to wait the event; and with which he beholds it fall, dragging with it a multitude of men, women, and children, that were buried in the ruins. I know that these are the unavoidable evils of war, but do not take delight in their being circumstantially brought to my senses. I cannot love the heroes who cause them, in despite of dear Toby Shandy's beautiful apology for the military profession, when he says, "It is one thing for a soldier to gather laurels, and another to scatter cypress." I expect to be more agreeably interested in the progress of this work, when Henry is settled on his throne. I hope he will then no longer think that to shed rivers of human blood will cover him with increasing glory; yet I, even I, almost catch his military enthusiasm, when, in an hazardous battle, he bids his armies fix their attention upon his plume of white feathers, and to follow where it leads, assuring them, that they will always see it in the road to honour and to victory. Since I finished the last sentence, I am advanced half way in the second volume, and am more than ever dissatisfied with Monsieur le Roi. There is a continued ungrateful inattention to the interests of his faithful friend, and able minister, Sully, for which I hate him. As to his caresses, I think nothing of them, and wonder they could impose upon so wise a man, so often were they bestowed upon those whom Sully knew he despised. Witness, amongst many similar instances, the apparent affection with which he received the Duke de Main, embracing him, and holding his hand as they walked, with the insidi ous whisper of contempt for him, to Sully, over his left shoulder, on the instant. It is only when he finds this great minister's abilities and integrity necessary to him, that he reluctantly calls him to the great offices of state. How basely slow do we find this thankless monarch to reward such a matchless series of faithful services! to admit this experienced friend and able statesman into the superintendence of the public finances! Henry's long and tender attachment to Gabrielle is more to the credit of his heart than any thing I have hitherto seen recorded. From ambition or policy, all else seems derived which dazzles the reader. But what is our astonishment to read, that one of the greatest monarchs in the world, for great, as a warrior and politician, we must allow him, seated on the throne of France, was often dirty and ragged, through absolute poverty, and had been more than once in want of a dinner. It lessens the ridiculousness of an old story of my mother's, about a bragging farmer of Rugely, returning from London, who pretended to have been introduced to Queen Caroline; and upon being asked how she was dressed, and what she said to him, replied that her majesty had on a dirty blue apron, but said she was mighty glad to see him; observing, that, if it had not been wash ing-week, she should have asked him to stay dinner; and added he was welcome to stay, even as it was, if he would take pot-luck; but that she had nothing for dinner but a leg of pork and peasepudding.—Adieu ! LETTER LV. REV. DR WARNER. Lichfield, March 7, 1786. I ENTREAT you will favour me with speedy tidings concerning Mr Hayley's present state of health. Your last letter has alarmed me on the subject. It is not a common degree of interest which I take in his welfare. Observing his constitution, I have always feared for his life. That you would be glad to learn that Mr Piozzi is constantly and tenderly grateful for the sacrifices his enchanting wife has made to him, at the instigation of the despotic little deity, I was perfectly conscious. Her fine talents, and the ungrateful abuse of Dr Johnson, upon this marriage, after the years she had devoted to render ing his life happy, ought, and will interest every benevolent heart in her destiny Such hearts will rejoice to see envy and malice disappointed by the devoted attachment of the highly obliged Piozzi, and by his acknowledged virtues. I perfectly agree with you as to the genius and spirit of Cowper's beautiful poem, The Task; yet I somewhat wonder at the confidence with which it inspires you in the goodness of his heart. My doubts on that subject do not proceed alone from the severity of his satire, however ill I may think severity to human failings becomes a human creature. But if a benevolent man may be induced to wield, with harsh asperity, the satiric scourge, yet surely he will not suffer ungenerous sentiments to descend from his pen. But for the illiberal protest of this author against the generosity of encomium, against the gratitude of tributary praise, I should have read his poetry with pleasure unallayed, as I confess it was exquisite. The Task certainly contaius not only dazzling irradiations of fancy, but many noble sentiments. Alas! it is not always, that either one or the other afford indubitable proof of an author's virtue! The depraved and selfish often wear these splendid veils of light, when all is darkness at the centre. |