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powers, and he gradually grew feebler. He seldom went into society, and for some months before his death he corresponded but little with his friends in this country. A week before his decease Dr. Beattie was sent for from London, and on his arrival at Boulogne he found him much worse than he had anticipated. The hour was approaching when the spirit of the poet of Hope was to quit this transitory scene, and return to God who gave it. On Saturday afternoon, the 15th June, 1844, he breathed his last, in the presence of his niece, his friend Dr. Beattie, and his medical attendants. His last hours were marked by calmness and resignation. The Rev. Mr. Hassell, an English clergyman, was also with Mr. Campbell at the time of his death.


Campbell's funeral," continues this able writer, was worthy of his fame. He was buried in the Poet's Corner of Westminster Abbey, on Wednesday, July 3, 1844. The funeral was attended by a large body of noblemen and gentlemen, and by several of the most eminent authors of the day. Mr. Alexander Campbell and Mr. Wiss, two nephews of the deceased poet, with his executors, were the chief mourners; and the pall was borne by Sir Robert Peel, the Earl of Aberdeen, the Duke of Argyle, Lord Morpeth, Lord Brougham, Lord Campbell, Lord Dudley Coutts Stuart, and Lord Leigh. The corpse was followed by a large number of members of parliament and other distinguished gentlemen.

"There was one part of the ceremony,' says an American writer, 'especially impressive. A deputation from the Polish Association was present, in addition to the Poles who attended as mourners; and when the officiating clergyman arrived at that portion of the ceremony in which dust is consigned to dust, one of the number (Colonel Szyrma) took a handful of dust, brought for the occasion from the tomb of Kosciusko, and scattered it upon the coffin. It was a worthy tribute to the memory of him who has done so much to immortalize the man and the cause; and not the less impressive because so perfectly simple. At the conclusion of the service the solemn peals of the organ again reverberated for some minutes through the aisles of the Abbey, and the procession retired as it


“The barrier with iron spikes, which protected the mourners from the jostling of the crowd, was then removed, and there was a rush to get a sight of the coffin. After waiting a little while, I succeeded in looking into the grave, and read the inscription on the large gilt plate:


Died June 15, 1844,
Aged 67.

""On visiting the Abbey the next day, I found the stone over the grave so carefully replaced, that a stranger would never suspect there had been a recent interment. To those who may hereafter visit this spot, it may be interesting to know that it is situated

between the monument of Addison and the opposite pillar, not far from that of Goldsmith, and closely adjoining that of Sheridan. His most Christian wish was accomplished. He lies in the Poet's Corner, surrounded by the tombs and monuments of kings, statesmen, warriors, and scholars, in the massy building guarded with religious care, and visited from all parts of the land with religious veneration.'"

A statue of the poet has been placed in the Abbey, executed by Mr. Calder Marshall, for which the gifted artist, according to all that has appeared in the public journals on the subject, has been very indifferently remunerated.

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SOUTHEY was born in Bristol, on the 12th of August, 1774. His father was a draper; his shop was in Wine-street. Southey, in his Autobiography tells us that his father, as a boy, was very fond of coursing, and that he took as his sign a hare; that this hare was painted on a pane in the window, on each side of the door, and was engraved on his shop bills. Since then it has been known as the sign of the Golden Key; and there the shop still remains, in the very same trade, and with the golden key yet hanging in front.

Robert was the second of a family of seven or eight children, two only of whom, besides himself, appear to have grown up,-one, an officer in the army, and the other a physician in London. He tells us that he could trace his ancestors as far back as 1696, that is, about a century and a half. They were yeomen, or farmers; but he thinks they must have been of gentle blood, for they had arms, and he even traces a connexion with Lord Somerville. Southey appears inclined to the pride of ancestry, when he had so much better things to be proud of; for no ancestry can compare with a man's own genius, which comes direct from heaven. Who cares what a man's physical origin was, so that his career was honourable? Who thinks, because Shakspeare was the son of a woolcomber; because Ben Johnson was apprenticed to a bricklayer; because Milton was a schoolmaster;

because Moore was the son of a grocer and spirit-dealer, and Chatterton was a charity-boy, that they are one whit less genuine nobles of the land? We are quite as well satisfied with Robert Southey that his great-great-great-grandfather was a great clothier at Wellington, and his father a retail draper, as if they had been dukes or princes. He had a trace of the olood of Locke, or of the same family as Locke, but at that he sneers, calling him "the philosopher, socalled, who is still held in more estimation than he deserves."

His mother's maiden name was Hill, and she had a half-sister, a Miss Tyler, with whom Southey was a good deal in his boyhood. He has left us a very minute account of his connexions and his early days. He was sent as a mere child to a Mrs. Powell, in Bristol, to a day-school. He was then taken to his aunt, Miss Tyler, at Bath. This Miss Tyler was rich and handsome, and lived in a large old-fashioned house, surrounded by old-fashioned gardens, in Walcot-parade, and at that time quite in the country. There he was chiefly, from the age of two to six. At that age he returned to Bristol, and was sent to a day-school on the top of Mill Hill, kept by a Mr. Foot, a dissenting minister. There, both from master and boys, he suffered great tyranny. Once, he says, the master cruelly caned him, the only time that any master ever laid a hand on him. Lucky fellow !

He was thence removed to a boarding-school at Corston, a village about nine miles from Bristol, and three from Bath.

This was the school of which he speaks in his Hymn to the Penates, and describes in the Retrospect. His parting there with his father is admirably expressive of a child's first school experience :

"Methinks e'en now the interview I see,

The mistress's glad smile, the master's glee:
Much of my future happiness they said,
Much of the easy life the scholars led;

Of spacious play-grounds and of wholesome air,
The best instruction and the tenderest care;
And when I followed to the garden door
My father, till, through tears, I saw no more,-
How civilly they soothed my parting pain,
And never did they speak so civilly again."

The school-house was an old country mansion, surrounded by gardens, orchards, paddocks, with high walls, summer houses, gatepillars, with great stone balls, but everything in dilapidation. The school was a very indifferent one; the boys washed themselves at a little stream which ran through the grounds, and so neglected was their general cleanliness, that when at the end of the year which he spent there his head was examined, it was found so populous that his mother wept at the sight of it.

He was next sent to his grandmother's, at Bedminster, till a new school could be pitched upon, and he always recollected with delight the days which he spent there in its garden, orchards, and fields. His grandmother dying, he was sent as a day-boarder to a school kept by William Williams, a Welshman, in a part of Bristol called the Fort. He was then about eight years old, and there he continued four or five years, much to his contentment. His aunt Tyler

took a house in 'Terril-street, Bristol, and he passed much time with her. He was removed from Williams's school for a year, and sent again as day-boarder to a Mr. Lewis, a clergyman; and in February of 1788, when he consequently was fourteen, he was placed at Westminster school. At this school he formed two friendships, which continued through life; those of Mr. C. W. W. Wynn, of Sir Watkins Wynn's family, and Mr. Grosvenor Charles Bedford, late of the Exchequer. They continued to the last the most prominent of his correspondents; and Mr. Bedford, in particular, seems to have been all that a man could wish for in a friend-a man of great talent, fine education, and excellent heart. Here, when he had been about four years, and had reached the upper classes, he was expelled for publishing a periodical called the Flagellant, in conjunction with his friend Bedford and some others. It reached nine numbers, when it became so satirically severe on the flogging which went on in that establishment, that it roused the wrath of the master, Dr. Vincent.

The consequences of this expulsion followed him to Oxford. It was intended that he should enter at Christ Church; but Cyril Jackson, the dean, refused to admit the leading author of the Flagellant, and he matriculated at Balliol College. He was scarcely settled there when his father died. He had failed in business, as his son says, through the treachery of relatives; and his brother, who was worth 100,000l., but a regular muck-worm, had surlily refused to give him the slightest assistance to recover his position. These misfortunes killed the old man; and Miss Tyler and his uncle, the Rev. Herbert Hill, now became Southey's main stays; Miss Tyler giving him a home, and his uncle his education.

Whilst he was a student at Oxford, and about nineteen, he wrote his Joan of Arc. The whole of this poem, except about three hundred lines, he wrote at Brixton Causeway, at a then pleasant country house, the residence of his friend Grosvenor Bedford. During his abode at Oxford he was a red-hot republican, and deeply inflated with the absurd views of Rousseau respecting social life. He rejected the idea of entering the Church, commenced medical studies, and then abandoned them, hoping to obtain a clerkship under government. But his friend Bedford soon put all hopes of that kind to flight, by reminding him that inquiries at Oxford as to his avowed opinions would effectually preclude his success with government.

In 1794 he became acquainted with Coleridge, who was then an undergraduate of Jesus College, Cambridge. Here Coleridge quickly inoculated him with his famous scheme of Pantisocracy-the equal government of all! The idea was to collect as many of like faith with themselves as they could, and emigrate to America, where, on the banks of the Susquehannah, they were to purchase a settlement. There "this band of brothers in the wilderness were all to labour with their hands, each according to the task assigned him. They were all to be married, and the ladies were to cook and perform all the domestic offices. They had plans drawn for the buildings and

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