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Once, however, and once only, in the history of Christianity, do we find a heresy-for never was that term more justly applied --so degraded and low-principled as this. We must pass over the times of Romanists-we must go back to the very beginning of the Christian church, and there, in the Jews and Judaizers of the New Testament, we find the only exact resemblance to the high churchman of Oxford. In the zealots of circumcision and the ceremonies of the law-in the slanderers and persecutors of St. Paul-the doters upon old wives' fables and endless genealogies -the men of "soft words and fair speeches"—of a 66 voluntary humility," all the time that they were calumniating and opposing the Gospel and its great apostle-in the malignant fanatics who, to the number of more than forty, formed a conspiracy to assassinate Paul, because he had denied the necessity of ceremonies to salvation "the men of mint, and anise, and cumin," who cared not for judgment, mercy, and truth-the enemies and revilers of the holiest names which earth reverences, and who are condemned, in the most emphatic language, by that authority which all Christians acknowledge as divine-in these, and in these alone, can the party which has headed the late Oxford conspiracy find their perfect prototype.

ROBERT SOUTHEY, 1774-1843.

THIS distinguished poet and prose writer was the son of a linen-draper in Bristol, and was born in that city on the 12th of August, 1774. After going through the ordinary preparatory course of study, he entered Baliol College, Oxford, in 1792, with the design of entering the church; but as his religious views underwent a change, inclining to Unitarianism, he left the university in 1794, and, in the same year, published his first poems, in conjunction with Mr. Lovell. Of his appearance and character at this time, Joseph Cottle thus speaks: "One morning, Robert Lovell called on me, and introduced Robert Southey. Never will the impression be effaced produced on me by this young man. Tall, dignified, possessing great suavity of manners; an eye piercing, with a countenance full of genius, kindliness, and intelligence. I gave him at once the right hand of fellowship, and, to the moment of his decease, that cordiality was never withdrawn.'!

Reminiscences of Coleridge and Southey," p. 4.

About this time he took part in the famous Pantisocratic scheme, "to which all the eager contributors brought golden theories, but so little of the more tangible coin that the Utopian project was necessarily relinquished." In November of the following year (1795), he married Miss Fricker, of Bristol, the sister of Mrs. Coleridge. In the winter of the same year, while he was on his way to Lisbon, "Joan of Arc" was published. In the following summer he returned to Bristol, and in the next year removed to London, and entered Gray's Inn. He passed part of the years 1800 and 1801 in Portugal, and from Lisbon wrote to Joseph Cottle the following poetical letter, which, for ease, vivacity, and vigorous description, stands at the head of that class of compositions:

LISBON, May 9th, 1800.

Dear Cottle, d'ye see, in writing to thee,
I do it in rhyme, that I may save time,
Determin'd to say, without any delay,
Whatever comes first, whether best or worst.
Alack for me when I was at sea!

For I lay like a log, as sick as a dog;

And whoever this readeth, will pity poor Edith:

Indeed it was shocking, the vessel fast rocking,

The timbers all creaking; and when we were speaking,
It was to deplore that we were not on shore,

And to vow we would never go voyaging more.

The fear of our fighting did put her a fright in,
And I had alarms for my legs and my arms.

When the matches were smoking, I thought 'twas no joking,
And though honor and glory and fame were before me,
'Twas a great satisfaction that we had not an action,
And I felt somewhat bolder

When I knew that my head might remain on my shoulder.

But O! 'twas a pleasure, exceeding all measure,

On the deck to stand, and look at the land;
And when I got there, I vow and declare,
The pleasure was even like getting to Heaven!
I could eat and drink, as you may think;

I could sleep at ease, except for the fleas;
But still the sea-feeling-the drunken reeling—
Did not go away for more than a day :

Like a cradle, the bed seemed to rock my head,
And the room and the town went up and down.

My Edith here thinks all things queer,

And some things she likes well;

But then the street she thinks not neat,

And does not like the smell.

Nor do the fleas her fancy please,

Although the fleas like her;

'See an account of this in the notice of Coleridge,

They at first view fell merrily to,
For they made no demur.

But O the sight! the great delight!
From this my window, west!

This view so fine, this scene divine!
The joy that I love best!

The Tagus here, so broad and clear,
Blue, in the clear blue noon-

And it lies light, all silver white,

Under the silver moon!

Adien, adieu, farewell to you,
Farewell, my friend so dear;

Write when you may, I need not say

How gladly we shall hear.

I leave off rhyme, and so next time

Prose writing you shall see;

But in rhyme or prose, dear Joseph knows
The same old friend in me.

ROBERT SOUTHEY.

Soon after Southey's return to England, he established himself at Keswick, in the lake country, where he lived for the remainder of his life. In 1805, he published his "Madoc," and in 1810 the "Curse of Kehama." In 1813, on the death of Mr. Pye, Southey was appointed poet laureate. In 1814, he published "Roderic, the Last of the Goths," and in 1821 "The Vision of Judgment." The same year he received his doctor's degree from the University of Oxford. In 1825, appeared "The Tale of Paraguay," the latest of his longer poems. Besides these, he wrote an almost infinite number of smaller pieces of poetry, and numerous prose works, which have given him the character of one of the very best writers in the language, for a clear, vigorous, manly, and graceful style. Of these, the most important are the "Book of the Church," the "History of the Peninsular War," the "History of the Brazils," and the Lives of Nelson," "Wesley," Cowper," "Chatterton," and "Henry Kirke White." He was a regular contributor for many years to the "Quarterly Review," and was the author of that remarkable book, "The Doctor."

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In his "Life of Nelson," I regret to say, there are some most exceptionable sentiments-sentiments utterly at variance with the spirit and teachings of Christianity.

2 The following is a list of his articles in the "London Quarterly," as given by Joseph Cottle in his "Reminiscences," up to 1825: In No. 1, Baptist Mission in India; 2, Portuguese Literature; 3, South Sea Missions-Lord Valentia's Travels; 4, American Annals; 5, Life of Nelson; 6, Season at Tongataboo-Graham's Georgies; 7, Observador Portuguez; 8, Feroe Islands -On the Evangelical Sects; 11, Bell and Lancaster; 12, The InquisitionMontgomery's Poems; 13, Iceland; 14, French Revolutionists; 15, Count Julian-Calamities of Authors; 16, Manufacturing System and the Poor; 19, Bogue and Bennett's History of the Dissenters; 21, Nicobar Islands-Montgomery's World before the Flood; 22, 23, British Poets; 23, Oriental Memoirs; 24, Lewis and Clark's Travels-Barre Roberts; 25, Miot's Expedition to Egypt; 25, 26, Life of Wellington; 28, Alfieri; 29, Me. La Roche Jacqueline The Poor; 30, Ali Bey's Travels-Foreign Travellers in Eng

But "excess of mental labor in every department of literature-poetry, history, biography, criticism, and philosophy-continued, from year to year, without cessation, bowed his strong spirit at last, and obscured the genius which had so long cast glory upon the literature of the age." For three years before his death, his mind was so far gone that he was not able to recognize those who had been his companions from his youth.' Scarce. ly could his wife console herself with the poor hope that he recog nized even her. He died at his residence in Keswick, on the 21st of March, 1843, in the sixty-ninth year of his age. “In all the relations of life, Mr. Southey was universally allowed, by those who knew him best, to be truly exemplary. His house at the lakes was open to all who presented themselves with suitable introduction, and there are few persons of any distinction, who have passed through that picturesque region, who have not partaken of his hospitality." He enjoyed a pension of three hundred pounds a year from the government, granted in 1835 by Sir Robert Peel, and left personal property to the amount of twelve thousand pounds, and a very rich and valuable library, all the fruits of his own literary labors.2

land; 31, Parliamentary Reform; 32, Porter's Travels-Rise and Progress of Disaffection; 33, Tonga Islands; 35, Lope de Vega; 37, Evelyn on the Means of Improving the People; 41, Copyright Act; 42, Cemeteries; 43, Monastic Institutions; 45, Life of Marlborough; 46, New Churches; 48, Life of Wm. Huntington, S. S.; 50, Life of Cromwell; 52, Dobrizhoffer; 53, Camoens; 55, Gregorie's Religious Sects; 56, Infidelity; 57, Burnetts Own Times; 59, Dwight's Travels; 62, Hayley-Mrs. Baillie's Lisbon.

Read a most interesting and feeling letter on this painful incident, from Mr. Cottle to the Rev. John Foster, at page 310 of the "Reminiscences." 2 The following is Coleridge's estimate of Southey:

:

"Southey stands second to no man, either as an historian or as a bibliographer; and when I regard him as a popular essayist, I look in vain for any writer who has conveyed so much information, from so many and such recondite sources, with so many just and original reflections, in a style so lively and poignant, yet so uniformly classical and perspicuous; no one, in short, who has combined so much wisdom with so much wit-so much truth and knowledge with so much life and fancy. His prose is always intelligible, and always entertaining. It is Southey's almost unexampled felicity to possess the best gifts of talent and genius, free from all their characteristic defects. As son, brother, husband, father, master, friend, he moves with firm yet light steps, alike unostentatious, and alike exemplary. As a writer, he has uniformly made his talents subservient to the best interests of humanity, of public virtue, and domestic piety; his cause has ever been the cause of pure religion and of liberty, of national independence, and of national illumination."

Bio. Lit.

To this I may add the following criticism of Professor Wilson :"Southey, among all our living poets," says Professor Wilson, "stands aloof, and alone in his glory." For he alone of them all has adventured to illustrate, in poems of magnitude, the different characters, customs, and manners of nations. Joan of Arc' is an English and French story- Thaliba' an Ara bian one- Kehama' is Indian-Madoc' Welsh and American-and Roderic' Spanish and Moorish; nor would it be easy to say (setting aside the first, which was a very youthful work) in which of these noble poems Mr. Southey has most successfully performed an achievement entirely beyond the power of any but the highest genius. In Madoc,' and especially in Roderic,' he has relied on the truth of Nature-as it is seen in the history of great national transactions and events. In Thaliba' and 'Kehama, though in them, too, he

FRANCE-BONAPARTE.1

O France! beneath this fierce barbarian's sway
Disgraced thou art to all succeeding times!
Rapine, and blood, and fire have mark'd thy way,
All loathsome, all unutterable crimes.

A curse is on thee, France! from far and wide
It hath gone up to heaven. All lands have cried
For vengeance upon thy detested head!

All nations curse thee, France! for wheresoe'er,
In peace or war, thy banner hath been spread,
All forms of human woe have follow'd there.
The living and the dead

Cry out alike against thee! They who bear,
Crouching beneath its weight, thine iron yoke,
Join in the bitterness of secret prayer

The voice of that innumerable throng
Whose slaughter'd spirits, day and night, invoke
The everlasting Judge of right and wrong,
How long, O Lord! Holy and Just, how long!

A merciless oppressor hast thou been,

Thyself remorselessly oppress'd meantime;
Greedy of war, when all that thou couldst gain
Was but to dye thy soul with deeper crime,
And rivet faster round thyself the chain!

Oh! blind to honor, and to interest blind,
When thus, in abject servitude resign'd
To this barbarian upstart, thou couldst brave
God's justice, and the heart of humankind!
Madly thou thoughtest to enslave the world,
Thyself, the while, a miserable slave.

Behold, the flag of vengeance is unfurl'd!
The dreadful armies of the North advance;
While England, Portugal, and Spain combined,
Give their triumphant banners to the wind,
And stand victorious in the fields of France.

One man hath been, for ten long, wretched years,
The cause of all this blood, and all these tears;
One man in this most awful point of time
Draws on thy danger, as he caused thy crime.

has brought to bear an almost boundless lore, he follows the leading of fancy and imagination, and walks in a world of wonders. Seldom, if ever, has one and the same poet exhibited such power in such different kinds of poetry; in truth a master, and in fiction a magician. Of all these poems, the conception and the execution are original; much, faulty and imperfect both, but bearing throughout the impress of highest genius, and breathing a moral charm, in the midst of the wildest, and sometimes even extravagant imaginings, that shall preserve them forever from oblivion, and embalm them in the spirit of love and of delight."

Written during the negotiations with Bonaparte, in 1814.

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