ure-seeker
quail worse than any inferno of miseries. Only a nature of peculiar
sweetness could charm us from the atmosphere of endless sermons and hymns
in which Cowper learned to be happy in the Unwins' Huntingdon home.
Breakfast, he tells us, was between eight and nine. Then, "till eleven, we
read either the Scripture, or the sermons of some faithful preacher of
those holy mysteries." Church was at eleven. After that he was at
liberty to read, walk, ride, or work in the garden till the three o'clock
dinner. Then to the garden, "where with Mrs. Unwin and her son I have
generally the pleasure of religious conversation till tea-time." After tea
came a four-mile walk, and "at night we read and converse, as before, till
supper, and commonly finish the evening either with hymns or a sermon; and
last of all the family are called to prayers." In those days, it may be,
evangelical religion had some of the attractions of a new discovery.
Theories of religion were probably as exciting a theme of discussion in
the age of Wesley as theories of art and literature in the age of cubism
and _vers libre_. One has to remember this in order to be able to realize
that, as Cowper said, "such a life as this is consistent with the utmost
cheerfulness." He unquestionably found it so, and, when the Rev. Morley
Unwin was killed as the result of a fall from his horse, Cowper and Mrs.
Unwin moved to Olney in order to enjoy further evangelical companionship
in the neighbourhood of the Rev. John Newton, the converted slave-trader,
who was curate in that town. At Olney Cowper added at once to his
terrors of Hell and to his amusements. For the terrors, Newton, who seems
to have wielded the Gospel as fiercely as a slaver's whip, was largely
responsible. He had earned a reputation for "preaching people mad," and
Cowper, tortured with shyness, was even subjected to the ordeal of leading
in prayer at gatherings of the faithful. Newton, however, was a man of
tenderness, humour, and literary tastes, as well as of a somewhat savage
piety. He was not only Cowper's tyrant, but Cowper's nurse, and, in
setting Cowper to write the Olney Hymns, he gave a powerful impulse to a
talent hitherto all but hidden. At the same time, when, as a result of the
too merciless flagellation of his parishioners on the occasion of some
Fifth of November revels, Newton was attacked by a mob and driven out of
Olney, Cowper undoubtedly began to breathe more freely. Even under the eye