few early friends who had the melancholy satisfaction of attend ing his remains to their last resting-place, in Westminster Abbey.

Henry, Lord Brougham, was another of the young men of genius with whom he then associated, and of whose abilities he delighted to write. His acquaintance with Thomas Robertson, to be mentioned hereafter, commenced at the same time.

Among his other bachelor friends, of whose attachment he speaks as "the consolation of his Edinburgh life," was Francis Clason, afterwards of the Chancery Bar, in England. With Henry Cockburn, now one of the Lords of Session, he had also the happiness of forming an early acquaintance, which ripened into steady and consistent friendship.

With some other families and individuals, found in the list of his Edinburgh friends, he was not acquainted until the spring following, when his poem had become a favorite topic in every literary circle. Among the more retired families, where he was perfectly at home, was that of Mrs. Keddie, whose son John was one of the Poet's familiar companions. Her daughter Mary, who, in gifts of mind and person, resembled his "beautitiful cousin Margaret," was an accomplished musician; and, in listening to her melodies, the young Poet spent many of those soothing hours, which in after life he so delighted to recal. This lady, now Mrs. Ireland, retains a pleasing recollection of his visits; and bears testimony to the cordial admiration with which he was received in Edinburgh.

With this brief enumeration of his early friends, which I shall have occasion to enlarge in a future chapter, I resume the narrative of the Poet's movements during the summer. After a pause of unusual length in their correspondence, he thus breaks silence in a letter to Mr. Thomson :

MY DEAR FRIEND,

EDINBURGH, June 26, 1798.

Write me, if you be in life, that I may have the satisfaction to know it! The last was by Mr. Clason, who has since written me to say that he sent it immediately on his arrival. My fears suggest, from the tenor of your former letter, that your health is not re-established. Are you in London, or where? for God's sake let me know. I have sent directions to Mr. Clason, to make some inquiries after you. You will find him a valuable fellow; I hope you will be better acquainted. I believe I was explicit in mentioning my reasons for retracting from

ÆT. 20.] VISIT TO GLASGOW-STUDIES IN GREEK.

199

my views of going to America. The advice of my eldest brother, and that of my brother Robert,* prevailed over my inclination. I have it still ultimately in view, though God knows in what different shapes. I shall be forced to pursue my "business," until the time arrive when I can go out on a truly respectable and agreeable footing. I think of leaving this city soon, so that you may address either to the College, or Charlotte-street, Glasgow. I have been much disappointed that you have not fulfilled your journey to Scotland. The summer is not quite spent, so that I may still entertain some hopes; but my mind is very uneasy, and must be so until I hear from you. How can it be otherwise, when you are so long silent? If you be alive, and still my friend, I am happy-and believe me, I am still yoursT. C.

The "business," to which he refers in this letter, was that of private tuition; and, as all duties of this kind were usually suspended at the termination of the summer classes, he was looking forward to an emancipation of several weeks, which were to be spent in revisiting Glasgow and the neighborhood. His private studies, however, were of a nature that did not allow him any protracted relaxation. While proceeding with his poem, he had taken much pains with a critical revision of one or two of the Greek tragic poets, a small edition of which he intended to publish with original notes. This undertaking was encouraged by an Edinburgh bookseller; and it is probable that, between the text of Eschylus, and the "Pleasures of Hope," he fairly divided the ensuing vacation. His visit to the West Country, which took place in July, was the last to his father's house in Glasgow. Arrangements were now concluded for the safe transfer of the household gods to Edinburgh, where a small house was engaged for their reception, at St. John's Hill. Under less encouraging circumstances, the propriety of such a step might have been justly questioned; but, finding that Edinburgh was to be the field of his literary exertions, Campbell was desirous to have his parents beside him. "He had the prospect of spending a happy winter; he had enlarged and liberal views of rising in life;" and to see them participating in his better fortune, would double the enjoyment. The old people, too, had

*For a notice of these two brothers see introductory chapter, pp. 41-2. To the reader it may appear a forced association; yet I never think of this episode in the Poet's history, but the old story of Eneas and the venerable Anchises is immediately presented to my mind.

been long watching for the rising sun, to finish the last stage of their pilgrimage; and, thinking they could now perceive visible tokens of his approach, they joyfully prepared to meet him in the east.*

But as the removal on which they had resolved, was not to commence until the Martinmas following, Campbell prolonged his visit to Glasgow, and divided the time between his friends and the Muses. Among other localities "endeared to young remembrance," he again visited the "scenes of his childhood," on the River Cart. On taking final leave of this scene, he composed the following 'Lines," a copy of which he gave to his friend, Mr. Richardson. As it is interesting to observe the train of feeling then passing through the Poet's mind, I have ventured, notwithstanding a previous quotation from it, to present the whole poem as it stands in the manuscript—

"O, scenes of my childhood, and dear to my heart,
Ye green waving woods, on the banks of the Cart!
How oft in the morning of life I have strayed
By the stream of the vale, and the grass-covered glade!
Then then, every rapture was young and sincere,
Ere the sunshine of life had been dimmed by a tear;

* In a letter from Mrs. Campbell, the Poet's mother, to her second son, Alexander, in Demerara, and written in October of this year, I find various allusions to the state of family affairs. The following are extracts :"You cannot imagine, my dear Sandy, what pleasure it gives your father and me to hear of your welfare. Your father has given up corresponding with everybody; [he was then eighty-eight] but if you direct for me, 'Mrs. Campbell, of Kirnan,' [see page 34] it will find either of us that may be alive. You will find in me a regular correspondent, and an affectionate mother. I wish to God I could give you an invitation to come home to a wealthy father and mother's house! But that is not in my power. You may be assured that it would be one of the greatest blessings that the Almighty could bestow, to see you under our roof. I thank God that we have both the regard and esteem of all our connexions and acquaintances. I have had very little to depend on but my own industry, [pages 37, 38] since your father gave up business-now near seventeen years ago—with an eightsome family to provide for. I have furnished a small house for Elizabeth, [see page 40] and there she is mistress. Daniel [see page 43] is in business, and I assure you is doing very well; and your father's opinion and mine is, that if you determine to come home, you could not do better than by putting part of your money into his concern; but this, my dear Sandy, is what we will not urge, as you must be the best judge of this matter. We have had no letters from Archy since last fall, [end of autumn]. He was well then, and sent us a present of twenty-five pounds. Mary and Tom are well. Your worthy father joins me in saying, may the ALMIGHTY bless our dear Sandy! Believe me to be, with tender affection, Margaret Campbell."

ET, 20.]

LINES ON REVISITING CATHCART.

And a sweeter delight every scene seemed to lend,
That the mansion of peace was the home of a friend.
Now, the scenes of my childhood, and dear to my heart,
All pensive I visit, and sigh to depart;

Their flowers seem to languish-their beauty to cease;
For a stranger inhabits the mansion of peace!
But hushed be the sigh, that untimely complains,
While Friendship, with all its enchantment, remains-
While it blooms like the flower of a winterless clime,
Untainted by chance, unabated by time!"
9*

201

T. C.

CHAPTER XI.

THE PLEASURES OF HOPE.

It

On his return to Edinburgh, his progress with the "Pleasures of Hope" had been so satisfactory, that, in the opinion of one or two confidential friends, it was now ready for the press. was proposed, therefore, to publish it by subscription; and all his young companions were ready to make every exertion in his favor. It does not appear, however, that Campbell, in this proposal, acted upon the advice of his seniors in criticism; but as the manuscript had passed the ordeal in some of the minor coteries, the step was considered safe and judicious. The only point that now remained to be settled was, to provide sufficient funds to defray the expenses of printing. This required some time and consideration; and, while Campbell was meditating on the subject, he received a visit from Mr. Thomas Robertson, one of those private friends who were in the secret. In his retrospective notes of this year, he thus expresses himself:-"I had a friend at this time, whose kindness I shall never forget." "He had seen the manuscript of 'The Pleasures of Hope,' and calling on me one morning, he said "Campbell, if you need money for the printing of the Poem, my purse is at your service. How much will it cost?' At a random guess I said 'fifteen pounds.' 'But, my dear fellow,' I added, 'God only knows when I may be able to repay you!' 'Never mind that,' he replied, and left me the money. But for the fifteen pounds, I had a hundred and fifty calls more pressing than the press itself."*

...

*On reminding Mr. Robertson of this circumstance, as recorded by the Poet, I was informed through their mutual friend, Mr. Richardson, that the fact regarding the money had escaped his memory; but, admitting that it happened as described, he thinks the amount of kindness greatly overstated. This is honorable both to borrower and lender-in the latter to forget, in the former to remember. The sum may possibly have been inaccurately stated; but whether it was five or fifteen pounds, the obligation in the Poet's mind was the same. He was the last to ask a pecuniary favor, but the first to acknowledge it when received. It was usual with Campbell to look at the merits of his friends through a powerful magnifier; and to reverse the glass when he looked at his own.