own misery. "The only amusement that he appeared to have admitted, without reluctance," says Hayley, "was the reading of Mr. Johnson, who, indefatigable in the supply of such amusement, had exhausted an immense collection of novels, and at this time began reading to the poet his own works. To these he listened in silence, and heard all his pieces recited in order, till the reader arrived at the history of John Gilpin, which he begged him not to proceed with." At length, however, his strength began to break down--a complication of new maladies had set in. A dropsical appear. ance in his legs was observed: medical advice was now had recourse to, but it was with the greatest difficulty the sufferer could be persuaded to take the remedies that had been prescribed. His weakness rapidly increased. On the 19th of April, Mr. Johnson, apprehensive of his immediate dissolution, ventured to speak to him on the subject. He consoled, or endeavoured to console him with the prospect of an approaching eternity of peace and happiness, of the just grounds for his dependence on the merits of the Redeemer; but poor Cowper passionately entreated of him to desist from any further observations of a similar kind, clearly proving, says his biographer, that though he was on the eve of being invested with celestial light, the darkness of delusion still veiled his spirit. The three following days his debility continued to increase. The last words he uttered were addressed to his attendant, when pressed to put some refreshment to his lips-"What can it signify?" On the third of May, 1800, he calmly expired, in his sixty-ninth year, and was interred in the same church where the remains of his "Mary" were deposited.

Briefly as we have sketched the sad history of this most amiable, highly gifted, but most unhappy of the children of genius, enough has been said to render any commentary on the sufferings we have had to speak of unnecessary. We have endeavoured to divest his malady of the obscurity and mystery in which it has been involved; we have called it by its proper name, we have referred it to its true cause, and endeavoured to point out how far his symptoms were aggravated by the counsel and conversation of injudicious people, and how far his symptoms were suffered to develope themselves and to acquire strength, by an unfortunate and perpetuual concurrence of most unfavourable circumstances. The leading events in the history of his sufferings, so far as they concerned his health and consequently his happiness, may be summed up in a very few words. Cowper, from his earliest years, was delicate in constitution, and timid in his disposition. Excessive application to professional studies in the Temple increased the delicacy of his health, the nervous system and the cerebral organs became disturbed or disordered in their functions, and his natural timidity merged into a morbid sensibility which wholly disqualified him for the active duties of that profession in which he had been so improperly placed. The derangement of his health obliged him to go to the sea-coast; he visited Southampton, and in one of his walks the unexpected spectacle of a magnificent prospect, and the sudden appearance of a burst of sunshine in all the "uncertain glories of an April day," overpowered his imagination, and filled his heart with a rapture of devotional enthusiasm. The splendour of the scene was taken for the effulgence of the Deity, and the wrapt spectator believed that the vision was expressly intended for a merciful

warning to lead him to the remembrance of that Being, whom, in his friend's words, he had been living without in the world. He returned to town, the momentary excitement passed away, and the warning was forgottena public appointment was procured for him, but the terror of a public appearance at the bar of the house of lords completely overwhelmed him, and he was obliged to renounce his employment. His nervous disorder returned with increased strength; he became the victim of hypochondria, and his friends deemed it necessary to place him under the care of Dr. Cottin. During the time that he remained in this private asylum, his condition appears to have been similar to that of Dr. Johnson in his early life, his dejection as severe, but certainly not more so, and no indication, even in his worst moments, of general insanity. His improvement in health and spirits at length led to his removal to a country village, and here he became domiciled in the family of a clergyman, in which he continued for the remainder of his life. The character of the society into which he was thrown was exclusively serious, or what is called evangelical. The story of the miraculous vision at Southampton was told to his friends, and the importance which was attached, and the credit that was given to it, fixed the impression stronger than ever on his mind, that it was a divine warning, and that he had neglected it.

Repentance, indeed, ensued, and remorse followed so closely upon it, that the latter took possession of all the faculties of his mind, and permanently, though partially disordered it. The dreadful idea became fixed, that in rejecting that warning he had committed the unpardonable sin, and that there was no hope for him here or hereafter. This was the commencement of his mono

mania: the disorder of his nervous system which had previously been only the derangement of the functions of that system, now probably proceeded to the disease of the organ itself, and all the after circumstances of his life and the tenor of his conversation with those around him, with few exceptions, were unfortunately calculated to fix the idea which preponderated in his mind over every other thought. That, under happier circumstances, and with due attention to the digestive organs, Cowper might have been rescued from the misery he endured through life, there is every reason to believe, and that, like Johnson, he might have acquired the power of "managing his mind," and even of "mastering its ailments" to a great extent. But all through his disorder, the digestive organs were impaired and neglected; to use the words of his biographer," the process of digestion never passed regularly in his frame during the years he resided in Norfolk !"-and this little paragraph is the essence of the "history and mystery" of Cowper's malady. This was indeed the true source of his hypochondria; and to whatever gulf the torrent of his dejection might have flowed, whether of insanity or eccentricity, religious enthusiasm was but the tributary stream which found a ready channel to receive its troubled waters. The original current might indeed have swelled with their increase, till the banks of reason were broken down by its aggravated fury, but the source of the mischief must be traced to the fountain-head, not to the feeeble stream that fed its violence.

CHAPTER XXX.

BYRON.

That tax of censure which is laid on the eminence of genius, has been pretty rigidly enforced in all ages, and in all countries; but of late years it has fallen more heavily than usual on literary men. The privilege of levying this odious impost on private habits, for the public entertainment, has become a vested right; and no man's memory is entitled to immortality till his character has been duly cudgelled, to extract the last particle of earthly dross, in order to qualify it, by this purgatorial process, for its future happiness; so that, even in these times, there is a species of killing which is no murder, and of taxation which is no tyranny. Whatever Lord Milton may think on the subject of other taxes, there is no withholding of this particular one on eminence-there is no stopping the public supplies of scandal, for there are no other means of satisfying the public creditor-curiosity. But, if ever there was a man's memory entitled to a discharge in full of all demands upon his character, that man's memory is Lord Byron's.

Eight years have hardly elapsed since his death, and year after year, with unprecedented avidity, the public have swallowed lives, last days, recollections, conversations, notices, and journals, professing to delineate his character; and the last effort of biography commands as much attention as the first. And yet, with all the lights