DRAWING-ROOM. (continued 2)

In the first he thus expresses himself: ‘The most forlorn of beings, I tread the shore, under the burthen of infinite despair, which I once trod all cheerfulness and joy.’ He fancies the vessels he sees in the offing were coming to seize him; he shrinks from the precipice of the cliff on which he walks, though, perhaps, it would be better for him to be dashed to pieces. A solitary pillar of rock seems an emblem of himself: 262‘Torn from my natural connections, I stand alone, in expectation of the storm that shall displace me;’ and so on in the same terrible strain. He begins to suspect his faithful friend Johnson (whom he no longer calls ‘Johnny’) of wishing to control him, and writes to Lady Hesketh, as if compelled to do so by stealth: ‘Dear Weston! I shall never see Weston again, or you either. I have been tossed like a ball to a far country, from which there is no rebound for me.’ Johnson now moved his patients to a new residence, Dunham Lodge, in the neighbourhood of Swaffham, and never slackened in his attendance on his kinsman,—reading aloud to him for hours a series of works of fiction, on which Cowper never made any comment, though they appeared to rivet his attention. He tells Lady Hesketh, notwithstanding, that he loses every other sentence, from the inevitable wanderings of his mind. ‘My thoughts are like loose and dry sand, which slips the sooner away the closer it is grasped.’ Cowper could not bear now to be left alone, and if he were so for a short time, he would watch on the hall door steps for the barking of dogs at a distance, to announce his kinsman’s return. Mrs. Powley, Mrs. Unwin’s daughter, came with her husband to visit her mother, and was much touched by the affection which Cowper still manifested for his Mary, even in moments of the deepest dejection. By degrees he was induced to listen composedly, both to the reading of the Bible, and also to family prayers, which at first his companions feared might excite instead of soothing him. Johnson laid a kind trap in order to coax the invalid into a renewal of his literary occupations. One day he designedly mentioned in Cowper’s hearing, that, in the new edition of Pope’s Homer, by Wakefield, there were some passages in which the two translations were compared. The next morning he placed all the volumes of the work in a large unfrequented room, through which Cowper always passed on his way from his morning visit to Mrs. Unwin; and the next day Johnson found, to 263his great satisfaction, that his kinsman had examined the books, and made some corrections and revisions, an occupation which Cowper continued for some little time with apparent interest. But this improvement did not last long: the melancholy household moved again to Mundsley, and then to Johnson’s own home, at Dereham, which was considered less dreary than the house of Dunham Lodge. It was there that, on the 17th of December, Mrs. Unwin, Cowper’s faithful and devoted Mary, passed away from earth calmly and peacefully. In the morning of that day, when the maid opened the shutters, Cowper asked, ‘Is there still life upstairs?’ She died in the afternoon, and he went up with Mr. Johnson to take a farewell look; and, after silently gazing on the lifeless form for some time, he burst into a paroxysm of tears, left the room, ‘and never,’ says Hayley, ‘spoke of her more.’

Mrs. Unwin was buried by torchlight in the north aisle of Dereham Church, where a marble tablet was placed to her memory.

After this event there was little improvement, though some fluctuations, in Cowper’s state. His friends, Lady Spencer, Sir John Throckmorton, and others, came to visit him, but he showed no pleasure in seeing them. He occasionally wrote short verses, especially Latin, suggested to him by Johnson, made revisions and corrections, and a longer poem, embodying the most gloomy thoughts, ‘The Castaway,’ from an incident in one of Anson’s voyages, the last and saddest of his works.

‘For misery still delights to trace

Its semblance in another’s case.’

The end was drawing near. Lady Hesketh was too unwell to go to him; Hayley was in attendance on his dying son; Mr. Rose went to bid him farewell, and Cowper, who had evinced no pleasure at his arrival, mourned his departure.

Johnson thought it now incumbent on him to prepare his 264friend’s mind for the impending danger, to which Cowper listened patiently. But when his kinsman thought to soothe him by speaking of the blessed change from earthly sorrow to the joys of heaven, the unhappy listener broke forth into wild entreaties that he would desist from such topics.

On the 25th of April 1800, William Cowper expired, so quietly that not one of the five persons who stood at his bedside was aware of the exact moment. ‘From that time till he was hidden from our sight,’ says his faithful and untiring watcher, Johnson, ‘his countenance was that of calmness and composure, mingled, as it were, with a holy surprise,’—words of deepest pathos, indissolubly connected with the poet’s memory. They inspired Charles Tennyson Turner, our Laureate’s worthy brother, with one of his most beautiful sonnets,—‘On Cowper’s Death-smile’—

‘That orphan smile, born since our mourner died,

A lovely prelude of immortal peace.’

Cowper lies buried in the church at Dereham, where his cousin Harriet placed a monument to his memory.

No. 8.

A GIRL.

In a tawny gown and white cap.

By Sir Joshua Reynolds.

265No. 9.

EMILY, WIFE OF THE FIFTH EARL COWPER, AFTERWARDS VISCOUNTESS PALMERSTON.

Yellowish-green gown. Pearl necklace. Floating scarf. Arms crossed.

She is holding a white hat and feathers. Background, a stormy sky.

BORN 1787, DIED 1869.

By Hoppner and Jackson.

THE only daughter and youngest child of the first Viscount Melbourne, by Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Ralph Milbanke. When only eighteen she became the wife of Peter Leopold, fifth Lord Cowper, in the same year that her brother William married Lady Caroline Ponsonby. We are confident we cannot do better than quote some passages from an article, published on Lady Palmerston’s death, by an eminent writer, who was her personal friend: ‘On her marriage, Lady Cowper immediately took her place amid that brilliant galaxy of beautiful and accomplished women who continued to form the chief ornament of the British Court, through successive reigns, till they were gradually replaced (not outshone) by a younger race.’ He goes on to describe how Lady Cowper was admired and distinguished in the brilliant seasons of 1814 and 1815, on the occasion of the Royal and Imperial visits to England. While speaking of later years, after her second marriage, he says at that time coteries, cliques, and, above all, party exclusiveness in politics, prevailed. But at Cambridge House there were no such limitations. All classes—political, diplomatic, literary, scientific, artistic—found a welcome, even 266the proverbially dull ‘country cousin,’ who had any claim on Lady Palmerston’s notice; they were all received with a gracious smile and a kind word by the amiable hostess. Her country houses bore the same character for hospitality and variety of attraction as the London dwelling, and foreigners, in particular, were never tired of recording the delights of Panshanger, Brocket (to which she succeeded on her brother’s death), and Broadlands. The same biographer says of Lady Palmerston that she never forgot a friend, or remembered an injury; and, speaking of her devotion to her husband: ‘She was most jealous of his reputation, and proud of his distinction as a Minister. Every night she sat up for him until his return from the House of Commons, and her many anxieties on his account were often hurtful to her health.’ After his death, her circle was almost entirely restricted to her own family and connections.

Lady Palmerston was esteemed a most excellent ‘man of business,’ managing her vast property and large households with consummate skill. She died in her eighty-second year.

London in her time was especially rich in courtly beauties, the fame of whose charms still survives: the Duchess of Rutland, Ladies Jersey and Tankerville, Charlotte Campbell, and many other names, well known to those who read the memoirs of the period. Among such formidable competitors Lady Cowper held her own for grace and beauty, while she far surpassed most of her contemporaries in intellectual gifts. She was much attached to her brother, whose upward career was a source of pride and satisfaction to her. But in early life she evinced no personal interest in politics.

Lord Cowper died in 1837; his widow married, in 1839, Lord Palmerston, and from that moment she became immersed in political life, watching with the keenest interest the public events which were passing around her.

Her brother, Lord Melbourne, was at this period at the 267head of the Government, and ere long her husband was destined to occupy the same position. Lady Palmerston now formed a salon, which continued for the lapse of many years to constitute one of the greatest attractions of London society. We use the word salon advisedly, for these assemblies bore a nearer resemblance, in character and quality, to the salons of Paris, than most congregations of guests to be met with in a London drawing-room.

This picture was begun by Hoppner, and finished after his death by Jackson.

No. 10.

BOY.

In a dark grey coat. Buff waistcoat. White cravat.

By Sir Joshua Reynolds.

No. 11.

GIRL.

Brown gown. White muslin handkerchief. Large straw hat. Basket on her arm. She is seated.

By Hoppner.

269

BILLIARD ROOM.

271