ÆT. 26.]

MARRIED LIFE-DOMESTIC ANECDOTES.

11

nified him for the loss of Wilna; but with improving prospects in London, and a growing relish for domestic retirement, the offer was gratefully declined.

you

The Poet's happiness, at this early stage of his married life, is pleasingly confirmed by the manuscript notes of a lady, an intimate friend and relation of Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, who says: "As one of many instances of Mr. Campbell's generous and feeling heart, I shall ever prize and treasure the following. Owing to my father's having met with many severe and unforeseen losses, and imprudently marrying a second time, I was educated with the view of being placed in some private family as a governess. I was then on a visit to Mr. and Mrs. Campbell in Pimlico; and, though only seventeen, expected to go out in that capacity, which, however, neither of them approved. We were all talking over the subject one morning-and I shall never forget Mr. Campbell's words: I am not a rich man,' he said, with tears in his eyes, 'but if will consent to partake of it, here is a home where you will always be welcome.' In this offer Mrs. C. earnestly joined; but other prospects having opened, I was spared the necessity of adopting the course proposed, of going out in the world, and spent a short but delightful visit with my amiable and talented cousins. They were greatly attached. Mrs. C. studied her husband in every way. As one proof-the Poet being closely devoted to his books and writing during the day-she would never suffer him to be disturbed by questions or intrusion, but left the door of his room a little ajar, that she might every now and then have a silent peep of him. On one occasion she called me to come softly on tiptoe, and she would show me the Poet in a moment of inspiration. We stole softly behind his chair-his eye was raised, the pen in his hand, but he was quite unconscious of our presence, and we retired unsuspected."

To a much-valued friend who consulted him on the momentous question of early marriage, and purposed shortly to follow his example, he thus writes: “ Feb. 29, * * * It is indeed an awful tie, my dear friend, that is to be knotted on the thread of life, and not dissolved until the Fates have put their shears to your existence !" "In looking to my own case, I congratulate myself on having escaped not only celibacy, but a hapless marriage ; for I have found many qualities in my little Matilda, the want of which must have made me wretched for life; yet about which I made little reckoning before the union. It is not possible for a man to get a richer prize in the lottery of marriage than I have acquired. But it has often occurred to us both, what fools we were to marry, knowing so little of each other, although acquainted, as lovers are, for some time. But it was after all a chance. We might have been by this time a couple of miserable spouses!"

These extracts may suffice to show the new-born happiness that reigned at the Poet's hearth; the cheerful industry with which he applied to his daily task; the animating prospect that seemed opening before him, as if to realise the picture in his own Poem

"How blest he names, in love's familiar tone,
The kind fair friend by nature marked his own;
And, in the waveless mirror of his mind,

Views the fleet years of pleasure left behind,

Since when her empire o'er his heart began―
Since first he called her his, before the holy man."

Campbell's acquaintance with Dr. Currie, of Liverpool, was one of the few events in his life upon which he looked back with unmingled pleasure and satisfaction. But their intimacy, as the Poet himself foretold, was destined to have a very transitory existence. It was observed by

ET. 26.]

LETTER FROM DR. CURRIE TO THE POET.

13

Campbell during his last visit to Liverpool, that Dr. Currie's health was so much impaired as to awaken the most serious apprehensions among his friends. He was strongly advised to economise his remaining strength by retiring from practice, and removing to Devonshire.* But in his unwearied solicitude to benefit others, he forgot or neglected himself. Instead of quitting Liverpool in the previous autumn, he lingered at his post during the whole winter; and when the spring arrived, his constitution was found to have suffered so much, as to leave but very faint hopes of recovery. With the consciousness of this in his own mind, he at last made hasty preparations for a journey southward, and on the eve of setting out, wrote the following letter, which will be read with interest :

MY DEAR SIR,

TO THOMAS CAMPBELL, ESQ.

LARKHILL, NEAR LIVERPOOL, 17th April, 1804.

You have cause to wonder at my not replying sooner to your most friendly and most acceptable letter of the 25th of January. Time has moved heavily with me since I received it, and every part of my correspondence has fallen into arrear. The state of my health cannot be said to have improved; my daily professional occupations have been irksome and oppressive; and I have seldom felt that alacrity of mind which is necessary to voluntary exertions. I have, besides, had a new edition of a medical

* Among those who strongly recommended change of climate, Campbell was the most zealous; and, to impress the necessity of travelling upon Dr. Currie's mind, told him in a pun, that every time he signed his name, J. Currie, he ought to consider it as an exhortation-I, Curre—per Alpes!

This eminent physician and accomplished scholar died at Bath in the following autumn. In the words of our great dramatist :-"His skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, 'twould have made nature immortal, and death should have played for lack of work."

work on hand, which-though the world will, I fear, consider it as an unimportant labour-has not been a light one to a person already heavily burthened. At present I have adopted the plan of sleeping out of Liverpool, at the house of a friend about three miles distant. I mean to go into town for a few hours every day, to see the most pressing of my patients, and to return hither to quiet and comparative solitude-to stillness and reflection. I have brought out with me the unanswered letters of my friends; and the first which claims my attention is that from yourself. The kind things you say to me, and of me, gratified me not a little. I could not indeed think that I had deserts anywise comparable to your eulogium; but where one knows there is no disposition to flatter, one is in fact highly flattered with the effects of that generous and affectionate partiality, in which we are conscious that strict justice is overlooked. I have many causes to wish that my life may be a few years prolonged. If I had health, most of the difficulties of life would be overcome; and many of its choicest blessings would seem to be tolerably secure. My profession would more than supply every pecuniary wish. I have many most valuable connections, and some very dear friends. My children are all very promising, and repay by their conduct and by their attachment all my anxiety and care; and I have received some proofs of my not being without some share in that public estimation, which is not to be under-valued. To whatever my fate may be, I shall endeavour to bring resignation, and approach, if I can, with firmness that awful hour which all of us must meet.

I expect something from the summer; and intend, as soon as the weather softens and settles, to leave Liverpool entirely for a few weeks, and make an excursion south. you did not live in London, or its immediate vicinity, I

If

ET. 26.]

LETTER FROM DR. CURRIE.

15

might have a chance of seeing you; for it is quite indifferent to me, in point of health, which way I move, so I move in pure air and towards the south. All this I say to yourself; for this is a kind of subject on which there are few one wishes to speak to. When you are disposed to talk to me about your studies and writings, I shall be happy to have the communication; for independent of all personal regard, there is no man of the present times, in whose occupations I am more interested. But I can easily suppose the motives of present silence, on such topics, and highly approve them. One thing you will no doubt always recollect, that whatever you do publish will one day be known, not merely to your friends, but to the world, whatever you may wish on the subject. Your celebrity has rendered ultimate concealment of anything you commit to the press very unlikely, if not impossible. I have seen Miss Sinclair much less than I wish; for I like her, I assure you; and she plays divinely. Mrs. Sellar* is also a very good and pleasing woman. I was to have dined there to-day, but was obliged to send an apology. Wallace is extremely pleased with Edinburgh, and has circulated there beyond all expectation. He has seen Brougham, who is now, I believe, in London, and liked him. Erskine, Thom

son, Scott, have been very kind to him. He returns next month, and will, I dare say, escape Lord B- -n. Adieu, my dear Campbell. Give my love to Mrs. C—, and believe me ever yours affectionately, JA. CURRIE.

I have written rather gloomily-more so than necessary —but I have not time to try a more cheerful key. J. C.

From the month of April until Midsummer, Campbell was employed on the "Annals." He contributed at the same

* Mrs. Sellar and Miss Sinclair were sisters of Mrs. Campbell.