then a half hour more passed away, which was the time of dinner. Keeping the appointment was now out of the question. I ordered something for myself at our quarters, and opening a bottle of sherry, had nearly demolished its contents by the time Campbell returned.

"A pretty joke you have played Lady F," I observed; "I have been waiting for you on thorns for hours."

"We dine there to-morrow, my good friend,” he replied. "I beg your pardon, it was to-day; did you not engage pellier-walk?"

in the Mont

"Did I? then I forgot all about how we were situated, nor did I think of your waiting; why did you not go alone ?”

"Because of course I waited for

you."

got

"The truth is," answered the poet, "that I called on Mrs. into agreeable chat, and forgot all about it. She had with her a very sensible lady, who conversed remarkably well, and they dined early; they pressed me to stay; it was difficult to resist the solicitations of a couple of pretty women to remain longer in their company, one of them the sweetest creature in the world. I don't know how to apologise for leaving you alone."

"Never mind me, think of Lady F-, with whom you engaged to dine. I have consoled myself with that which wise men say makes glad the heart of man," pointing to the sherry.

The next day was to enact wonders. The morning came, and brought no proof of "Theodoric" from town. The poet became restless and fidgetty, though a day or two of delay could not really be of any moment; he walked up and down the room troubled and uneasy; nothing reconciled him to the absence of the proof, and he got so excited at last that the same evening he started for town by the mail. The next day the proof arrived, having crossed him on the road. He assured me he would be back to Cheltenham in a couple of days. I visited Great Malvern, came back, and found a letter from him, saying he was indisposed, and felt quite unable to return. Thus his self-promised agreeabilities all vanished. I put together his papers and a few books, and added them to my own luggage. When I left Cheltenham I found he had laid in a store of good things sufficient for both of us for some weeks longer, which I could only present to the people of the house.

Thus terminated what Mrs. Campbell called the "Cheltenham expedition," adding, whenever she spoke of it to me,

"Did I not tell you how your country walks would end, and the stories of pedestrian rambles, roasted fowls, and old sherry ?"

It was characteristic of that restlessness so often displayed in the poetical character. Some image of a better aspect than that which is within the grasp of the present, tricks itself out in the guise of the illusive future, and destroys the worth of all that is within reach. Less developed in some than in others of the sons of the muses, it is evident that something of the kind generally marks the poetic temperament. At a later period there was a tinge of the same hue discoverable in the poet's continual changes of residence and alterations of his dinner and breakfast hours. It was a feeling like that of sickly childhood, which fancies it shall feel better or happier in some new position.

To return to "Theodoric:" there is much of the author's character of mind in the poem. It commences with an energy and elegance which

diminish as the poem proceeds, and soon become exhausted. At starting, the poet is lavish of the power that his strength will not retain beyond a certain point; it then degenerates, and yet further declines almost to inertness. The poet succeeded in his shorter pieces and inimitable lyrics, the spirit of which, like that of the war-horse, answers to the sound of the lordly hoof, rejoicing in its strength, because the energy primarily kindled, concentrated in a shorter task, gets no over-fatigue by protracted exertion. Hence the beauty, strength, and simplicity of the lyrics, which seem to image the poet's peculiar constitutional temperament, equally visible in the commonest things. Still there are fine lines in "Theodoric," which call Campbell's better works forcibly to recollection, though the inequality of the poem is so great. He avails himself, too, of "alliteration's artful aid" more than was his previous custom. The opening line,

Warmth flushed the wonted regions of the storm

is like himself, though

is artificial.

Heights browsed by the bounding bouquetin

So lucid is Campbell's poetry, that it is at once comprehended by every order of mind. To attain this crowning advantage, he has sacrificed no grace of art, no elegance of style. He has never become common-place and vulgar in phrase or verbiage, as too many writers have become for that purpose. This is the very keystone of excellence; the secret which links the labours of the poet with every memory. Hence, such productions are most quoted by the orator, as illustrations or as stirring appeals to the passions of an auditory. The poet whose works have to be considered and reconsidered in order to extract his meaning, who seeks the sublime in obscurity, or, to exhibit a pearl, obliges the reader to grope through a bushel of chaff, can neither expect nor merit popularity, notwithstanding the efforts of admirers, and every extrinsic aid from art directed to force that admiration, which, to be honest and effective, must be spontaneous. For many long years before his decease, Campbell had the pleasure, so flattering to one to whom fame was never ungrateful, and few had to boast of that which was more merited or more honest in its nature-he had the pleasure of hearing his verses quoted oftener than any contemporary writer, in the senate, on public occasions, and in the social circle, wherever a patriotic appeal, a philosophical truth, or a tender sentiment, required illustration. The "meteor flag of England," that had "braved a thousand years the battle and the breeze," so dear to the memory of our all-glorious navy-the "Coming events, that cast their shadows before"-or, "Life's morning march, when the bosom was young," will continue to hang upon every tongue while the language to which they belong shall endure. The poet aimed at being as simple and faultless as possible, without impoverishing the stores of a rich imagination in their embodyings. He restrains the exuberance of his muse only when she becomes diffuse, or, in the prodigality of her wealth, is inclined to exceed the limit of the polished and tasteful. He purchases brilliancy and variety at the expense of verisimilitude, but only on one or two rare occasions, the consequences of too great attention to his main object. Much more frequently he tames down his lines, from an anxiety for correctness, which deprives them of their sharpness. That author

stands unpardonable in the public view, who falls short in his latest works, of the excellence, in every point, of that work which preceded it. The merciless despotism of the public, like all despotisms, taking every thing upon trust, nothing on the footing of merit, considered in relation to circumstance, prefers the best production of a writer of mediocrity, to a far worthier work if it be the second-best of a writer of first-rate excellence. Had "Theodoric" been a far better poem, unless it outshone the "Pleasures of Hope" and "Gertrude," it would not have succeeded better.

There is a simile in "Theodoric," the origin of which I well remember. We were sitting at coffee, when two volumes of "Las Casas' Account of Buonaparte" were brought in. Campbell opened one of them in a careless way, and hit upon the passage in which the emperor, speaking of Corsica, said, "That if he were taken blindfold to Corsica, he should know where he was by the smell of the earth, which haunted him from his youthful recollections." This passage struck the poet very forcibly. He recurred to it again and again. When "Theodoric" was completed, I found he had introduced the thought in the lines—

Where, by the very smell of dairy farms

And fragrance from the mountain herbage blown,
Blindfold his native hills he could have known.

The thought is not mended, nor does the note attached to the text give Napoleon's expression, which is to be found in volume ii., p. 343, of Las Casas-" He," Buonaparte, "thought that the very smell of the earth would enable him to distinguish his native land, even were he conducted blindfolded to her shores.'

The poet had a sincere love for his country, as may be judged from his unrivalled lyrics, and he felt this affection strongly when he wrote " Theodoric." He was particularly partial to the navy, and fond of hearing about the exploits of seamen. Several years I had spent in the height of the war in a locality where its bustle and energetic actors surrounded me, and I knew many brave men, and was acquainted with many of their exploits never blazoned in official records. The poet was fond of such recitals, and would listen with eagerness to the most trivial, sometimes originating the subject of conversation purposely. He had been to see the launch of a line-of-battle ship somewhere down the river, only two or three years before he left London for Boulogne. He told me the circumstance, and told it with delight, though at the moment when his bodily frame was evidently yielding to Time's pressure. "As the vessel went off the stocks," he said, "I felt myself in a state of mental transport." His patriotic feelings are renewed in the lines of "Theodoric."

;

A glad enthusiast now explored the land,
Where nature, freedom, art, smile hand in hand;
Her women fair; her men robust for toil;
Her vigorous souls high cultured as her soil
Her towns where civic independence flings
The gauntlet down to senates, courts, and kings;
Her works of art resembling magic's powers,
Her mighty fleets, and learning's beauteous bowers.

That Campbell was alive to every phase of public opinion_regarding his works, there is not the smallest doubt, at the same time that he was

aware of the lasting character of that popularity which he had already secured. His existing literary reputation, therefore, consoled him under the severity of ill or well-founded criticism upon his later and feebler productions. He had the reflection ever recurring that in this sense his fortune was made. The stability of his reputation could not be shaken. Though he had achieved little, that little was transcendant. He did not suffer his gratification to be visible to the world, for it would have wounded his self-respect; yet he did not the less enjoy his reputation in silence nor credit its solidity the less. Accidental circumstances alone unmasked the real aspect of this feeling. Being alone one day we were conversing about the ambition of some men for renown. I remarked that it was as much a vanity as any other passion philosophically considered-what was a great name to him that died yesterday!" Falstaff's trim reckoning and no more. Campbell observed, "this may be true, you would like such a renown as Napoleon's, for example.' "The infirmity of noble minds," I replied, "would not move me to exchange my obscurity for a tombstone. I would not give life for unconscious reputation."

but

66

"I would die to-morrow," said Campbell, "for such renown as that of Napoleon."

THE MALARIA.

BY CYRUS REDDING, ESQ.

DELICIOUS death, when messengers so sweet
Herald thy coming-when the rose's breath
Wafts new delight, and night's calm glories greet
In this bright clime thy path! Delicious death,
Coming with stealth mysterious, like a thought
Of joy that kills with very height of bliss
Upon a bed of odours, making nought

Of the bright dream we weave too much amiss!
Thus, stealing in a garb of loveliness

On the repose that weaves in hollow trust

The chaplet for the dead, as if to bless

With all delight the change from flesh to dust
Elsewhere so dreaded-thus of sweetness full

Comes gentle death-the soft-the beautiful!*

*"L'influence maligne ne se fait sentir par aucun signe exterieure. Vous respirez un air qui semble pur, et qui est tres agréeable; la terre est riante et fertile ; une frâicheur delicieuse vous repara le soir des chaleurs brulantes du jour ;—et tout cela-c'est la mort !"-Corinne.

SECRET HISTORY OF THE COURT, MINISTRY, AND TIMES OF GEORGE IV.

WITH ANECDOTES OF REIGNING DYNASTIES, ARISTOCRACIES, AND PUBLIC MEN, INCLUDING RUSSIAN CZARS, AUSTRIAN EMPERORS, FRENCH KINGS, ROYAL DUKES, SECRET SERVICES, &c. &c.

BY AN OLD DIPLOMATIST.

CHAP. III.

London, March 22, 1816.

It is this-that

THERE is a rumour in circulation of much import. Lady -, yclept the eternal flame (though she may prove a frost), has turned her eyes towards the Magdalen, there to atone for her past offences. As a step towards this desirable object, some of her cheap bought jewels were lately put up for auction. Some ladies found fault with the high price bid for some of the articles.

"No doubt," said Madame C——, "there is not one among you but would like to purchase them at the seller's prime cost." shrewd and ten to one no less true!

Shrewd, very

In none of the papers laid before parliament is there any account of the diplomatic presents made to Lord Castlereagh. If the generosity of foreign courts in any degree approaches our own, his lordship must have realised a pretty penny on the continent.

The amount of the home secret service money is 10,0007.; there appears to have been a ready demand and prompt payment in this quarter. There was not a penny of it undisposed of on the 5th of January. A gratuity of 5201. 1s. 6d. to Edward Michael Ward, Esq., for having brought from Vienna the general treaty of congress, is one of the items of the civil list accounts. Among the items too of the civil list accounts are sums of 30937. 4s. 6d. for equipage to the Hon. C. Bagot, our minister to America, and of 40117. 4s. 3d. to the Hon. Frederick Lambe, our minister to the court of Bavaria.

The ministers from France, Austria, Bavaria, Holland, Brussels, Russia, and Portugal, were the parties who were presented with snuff-boxes, which cost the nation 15,310%. 11s. The Dutch court thus appears to have received a double share.

The funds continue to decline, although the loan is not expected to exceed five or six millions, and even this amount might be greatly reduced by a prudent economy and just retrenchment. The Opposition papers are loud in their outcries against ministers for having arranged so expensive an establishment for keeping Buonaparte at St. Helena. They say, "Why is a quarter of a million of money to be expended for the safe keeping of one solitary prisoner ?"

The Queen's Drawing-room.-The public were much disappointed yesterday in not seeing the intended spouse for the P. C. Indisposition was assigned as the cause, but the fact is H. R. H. the P. R. wishes her to accompany him when he himself goes, being apprehensive of a brutal reception from John Bull. Notwithstanding the announcement of the distinguished foreigner the court was very thinly attended, although the town is full of fashionables.

News from the Pavilion.-A gentleman who saw the Earl of Arran this morning, says, that the P. was enabled to take exercise in the