but from private prayer. "For him to implore mercy," he said, "would only anger God the more."
In order to be out of hearing of the noise of the annual fair, which was held in April, he visited Newton at the vicarage, and being there, entreated not to be sent away. There he remained till May in the following year; so piteous were his tears and entreaties to be suffered to remain, that Newton had not the heart to remove him. His malady, on the whole, was still increasing upon him. Yet it was not till October 1773 that Newton thought of consulting Dr. Cotton. It was too late then; perhaps it would have been of no use earlier. Some years later the unhappy patient described the thousand fancies which beset him; but there is no good in repeating a sick man's dreams. Mrs. Unwin watched over him all this time with the most tender solicitude. She undertook the care of him single-handed, and shared her diminished income with him. The expense of his living fell heavily also on Newton, as appears from a letter to his benefactor Thornton; but Newton's affection was too unselfish to allow him to put his poor friend from his house. During this sad time Cowper employed himself in gardening. He spoke little,—never except when questioned. The first signs of improvement were seen in the garden; he began to make remarks on the state of the trees, and the growing of them. One day when feeding the chickens some trifle made him smile. "That is the first smile for sixteen months," said Newton. His companion, taking courage from this, proposed to return home. He consented, and having done so, was impatient of the few days' necessary delay. At home he again took to gardening, and also to carpentering. A friend gave him three hares, which he may be said to have immortalised. Ten years later he wrote his famous article in the Gentleman's Magazine [June, 1784], giving an account of these animals, and his arrangements for their health and comfort. His friends, pleased with his interest, gave him other animals—five rabbits, two guinea-pigs, two dogs, a magpie, a jay, a starling, and some pigeons, canaries, and goldfinches. The interest he took in them shows that his mind was partially recovering itself, though the clouds still hung heavily upon it. "As long as he is employed," says Newton of this period, "he is tolerably easy; but as soon as he leaves off, he is instantly swallowed up by the most gloomy apprehensions, though in everything that does not concern his own peace he is as sensible and discovers as quick a judgment as ever."[1]
What I have already said will indicate the opinion to which I have been brought on the relation of his religious views to his madness. I have never forgotten—who could, in reading this strange and melancholy life?—that insanity is verily an inscrutable mystery, on which it behoves our words at all times to be wary and few. I do not believe certainly that religious opinions were the original cause of the madness. When I began the study of this life I believed that I should find that the views were merely the form which the madness happened to
- ↑ Bull, p. 202.
