SOUTREY'S UNPUBLISHED LETTERS..

THE conclusion of these supplementary letters to Southey's " Life and Correspondence " extends from 1815 to 1839. The quarter of a century is one of which many readers will have some actual knowledge ; so that the political or literary incidents, and the names of public characters mentioned in the letters, will have for such a species of personal interest. With Southey's extensive reading, his copious fertility of ideas and language, his intimateconnexion with men of mark, and to a certain extent with public events, it would be impossible for him to write eleven hundred pages without some solid value and charm of style. Passages Of tins kind, however, are rather the exception than the rule. There is perhaps less of repetition in these third and fourth volumes with regard to the letters in the Life than appeared in the first and second; but the same things are frequently repeated in different words to different correspondents. The objection taken to the former volumes applies to this—there is too much of Southey the individual. Although the current topics are nearer to our own days, and the writer had greatly advanced in public repute and the prestige of reputation, having for some years been singled out (very unjustly) as an incarnation of Toryism and the Quarterly Renew, he does not reach a more extensive range. When he does touch upon public affairs, his want of statesmanlike grasp or even political sagacity is COMO- MOUS. With the rabid insolence of old Toryism he had no sym- pathy—it was one of his grounds of quarrel with Gifford and the Quarterly ; but he was one with the old Tories in all the narrow notions that brought about their downfall—their furious hatred of political economy, economists, and free trade—their opposition to any advance towards religious liberty—their call for stronger measures (he would have transported for sedition) —their dislike to the liberal members of their own party, and it would seem to the amelioration of our then Drammen criminal law. With the Whigs or Reformers he had little in common ; still he was rather with them on the Slave question, and with the more consistent philanthropists on the Factory Bill. Hence Southey stands alone in his ideas; or if he agrees with any one it is with Michael Thomas Sadler during the time when that gentlexuan was famous. Read from. -twenty to forty years after their utter, once, his vatieinations seem wild; though not wiMer, Perhaps, than those of men who had much greater worldly experience, during the heat of the Reform contest. Indeed, Southey was leas desponding than many of that time ; he threw the future upon Providence.

There would have been more substance in the book had there been more of polities and public events but the great staple matter is Southey himself. In his feelings and his re- flections upon life, suggested. by its inevitable changes, there is biographical interest ; in his almost incessant ill-will towards the Quarterly Review, there is a singular feature in his literary life, as well as in some of his communications with various publishent. These things, indeed, form but a small portion of the corre- spondence; it is Southey in an egotistical sense that constitutes

e bulk. Much of this rests not with the writer but the editor,, in printing letters of a purely familiar or personal character, never intended for publication, and by their nature unfitted for it.. With opportunity the self-opinion comes out glaringly. "Thu life to conic in every poet's oreed," is the text upon all octagons, whether it be a better sale of his poems, the greater value of his copyrights, or the ignominy with which he will overwhelm his enemies in future times.

One of the most prominent subjects, though not the most eon:- i siderable in bulk, s Southey's dissatisfaction with the Quarterly Review. The correspondence almost opens with that topic, and it continues to turn up till nearly the close ; by which time Southey, having got other sources of regular income, seems to have pretty well withdrawn from the Review. He appears to have been no stranger to the craft-feeling which prompted bell's jeer, that, much as he disliked Bonaparte for his tyranny and waste of life, he forgave him as he had shot a bookselleg. The more tangible grounds of Southey's complaints were, that Gifford altered his articles by omissions or interpolations, with some political or other purpose ; sometimes strove to improve his style by absurd amendments. He was angry with the coarse inso- lence of Clifford's editorship : and there were some grounds for that feeling, as he had to bear the brunt of it with the Liberals. He dis- approved of the tone adopted towards America; and of the greater liberality of the politics as Ministers found it necessary to 'become more liberal, which he called timidity. He had also likes and dis- likes of a more personal nature. If brought together, the whole would form a singular feature, not only in Southey's literary ca- reer, but in literary history ; though doubtless there is another side to the story. The following is curious as showing Southey's vanity in supposing he could aid the Duke of Wellington's fame, but still more as representing the Duke; among the multifarious occupations of the Waterloo year, concerning himself about the proof-sheets of the Quarterly _Review, kW. John Wood Warier, 8.1)., Christ Churek; riear of Treat Tarring, 1. Selections from the Letters of Robert Southey, Edited by his Sussex. In four volumes, Vols. III. and IV. Published by Longman and c.o.

"To Grosvenor C. Bedford, Esq.

Streatham, Nov. 17, 1815.

"My dear Grosvenor—I have written a letter to Gifford, which 1 shall not be able to despatch till tomorrow, when the proof may accompany it. I hope he will show it you. What effect it may produce Heaven knows. Bring with you the sheets of the article in their original' state, when you come to Queen Anne Street ; they are become curious. It is not unlikely that I may offend Croker by the manner in which (without alluding to him) I have pointed out the impolicy and injustice of his interpolations. If it be so so it may be. He may say what he pleases in his own person and call blIck white if he likes it, but it is presuming too much to do Ode in mine. Fools that these people are ! as if there were any living man who is more disposed to render full justice to the Duke of We Iliington than I am, or who had equally. the will and the power to bestow upon him the highest and most lasting praise. God bless you. R. S."

About a fortnight later, he writes to another correspondent— "I had no opportunity, when last we met, to tell you what has passed concerning the Quarterly Review. In consequence of my letter to Gifford, which you saw, I found that the interpolations came from no less a person- age than the Duke himself, who thought proper, through Croker, to make me his tool. I spoke as became me upon the occasion ; insisted upon stop- ping the press, carried my point, struck out the falsehoods which had been inserted, and replaced what had been struck out. Upon seeing the former part of the article, (the proofs of which had not been sent me,) I find a passage interpolated about the Convention of Cintrat which is contrary to my own expressed opinion. This I shall resist, and insist upon it that no- thing hereafter be inserted in any paper of mine without my consent ; otherwise I will withdraw from the work. I had an interview at the Ad- miralty after the business, and it was curious to observe how carefully the subject was avoided, and yet what concessions were made and civilities shown in reference to it."

An.ecdotes of famous men, or notices so short as to read like anecdotes, will be found. Of these we glean several with the date annexed.

Davy, 1821.—" You speak of Davy in one of your letters. When you saw him at Bristol, I was in habits of the greatest intimacy with him. That intimacy has fallen off, less from remoteness of place and dissimilarity of pursuits, than because of the effect which high life and prosperity have produced upon him ; an effect which has been such, that for many years I have felt more pain in his company, from remembering what he was, than

• any pleasure to be derived from his conversation would compensate. A great man most unquestionably he is in one line, but in that line he would be even greater than he is if the world had less hold upon him. It has made him vain, selfish, and sensual ; and weaned him from all his old friends."

Canning, 1822.—"I was invited to meet Canning at Mr. Bolton's. It is the opinion of his friends that if he accepts office the House of Commons will kill him in two or three years. In reality, flesh and blood is not equal to such wear and tear as is exacted from an English Minister in these times. I told him plainly that the present state of things was a contest between wickedness and weakness, and that there needed no spirit of prophecy to foresee wkat the event must be."

Disraeli the .Elder, 1822.—" I am looking through Disraeli's 'New Cu- riosities.' He is a man 'whom I generally dine with when! visit London.. An oddly-furnished head he ,has, and an odd sort of creature he is alto- gether ; thoroughly gopdnatured—the strangest mixture of information

• and ignorance,. cleverfiess and folly. Having ceased to be a Jew himself,

• without becoming a Christian, lie has, happily for his children allowed Sharon Turner to take them quietly to church and have them-christened." The present Bishop of Exeter, 1825.—" Dr. Phillpotts writes to me that he means to answer the theological part of Butler's book. It is by such con- troversy that he made his way to a stall at Durham, and afterwards to the -living of Stanhope, of sufficient value not to be tenable with that stall. Very probably he has his eye upon something higher ; which he is not un- likely to attain. The Bishop of Durham has been his patron thus far. He is a clever man, who knows the world and understands very well what he is about."

Mrs. (hulls, 1827.—" Now let me tell you that Sir William Curtis spake truly when he said that wonders will never hare done ceasing, for I have been hooked into an acquaintance with the Duchess of St. Albans, and have eaten of potato pie made by her gracious hands ! Certainly she can never have been half so entertaining on the stage as she is off it, nor have repre- sented any character so extraordinary as her own. What think you of a letter of congratulation on her recent marriage from the King—in his own hand, and signed 'your sincere friend, -G. ? This I saw ! And what think you of letters from * • • * • bearing testimony to her virtue, and declaring that he was indebted to her, not only for the happiness of his lat- ter life—but for his better hopes of happiness in the life to coma! I could tell you of her bonnet, which, for its amplitude and spreading shade, was compared by the vicar of this parish to the Banyan tree ; and of her upper lip, which is like that of one who had been a Nazarite from her mother's womb; and of a story she told—which is so good a story that I will reserve it for the pleasure of telling it to you when we meet."

&oft and Maekintos h ; Closing Scenes, 1832.—" Poor Scott ! when he arrived in London he was incapable of recognizing any one ; but on the following day his senses so far recovered that he knew Lockhart and his daughter. The case is utterly hopeless, and, very possibly, may. by this time be over. Mackintosh is said to have died believing and hoping : his mind had for many months taken that turn. The last time I saw him was in November 1830, before the change of Ministry. The affairs of France were talked of, and I said to him, You and I, Sir .Tames, are a little too old now to sing our Nunc dimittis for a second French Revolution.' He as- sented to what! said, with a sad smile and a sigh. Poor man ! he was the slave of his improvidence, of his former faults, and of his party, and during the latter part of his life spoke and acted in direct opposition to his own real and recorded opinions. 4' HiE brain was the largest that has ever been examined. Yet a deal more has come out of other heads, though probably there are very few in this generation in which so much has been stored."

Gladstone,1833.—" Great expectations are formed of young Gladstone, the Member for Newark, who is said to be the ablest person that Oxford has sent forth for many years, since Peel or Canning. I have always some fears for such reputations ; they sometimes upset the bearer, and they often indi- mate more dexterity than strength : but I hope he may not disappoint his friends."

In a long career, friends drop off, and changes take place in the writer himself. These are not the least interesting topics, from the melancholy tone of the writer's reflections, or the lesson they point. Here is a reference to a man whose name was writ in water, or in what is equally unstable—conversation •' but it is life, death, and the moral to be drawn from them. The date is 1831. "I have just lost in Duppli one whom I had known eight-and-thirty years, and who, though less to me than a friend, was more than acquaint- ance. I saw him in December last, after an interval of two or three years, and was then startled at seeing how very much he was altered during that interval ; his face having become aged, and his flesh fallen away. It seems to have been a case of climacteric disease, as described by Sir Henry Hal- ford. He was not conscious of being ill. Indeed, Sharon Turner describes him as being happy and well as usual,' when he saw him on the Thursday. Monday night he complained of some fatigue from walking and from the heat. On Thursday morning his laundress went to one of his friends to say that he had not been well during the two preceding days, but would not let any one be sent for till that morning. The friend went immediately, found him alarmingly weak and in bed, went for a phy- sician, and that physician at first sight pronounced him to be in a hopeless state. Brandy failed to rouse him : he was sensible, but did not speak, and breathed his last that afternoon. No doubt his life might have been pro- longed, if he had not been a bachelor living in chambers. I hardly know why I have written to you about one whose name perhaps you will not re- cognize, except as having belonged to a bishop. That bishop was of his family and of mine also. "Some passages in Espriella's Letters ' are of Duppa's writing. He was a clever, singular, lively, and most agreeable man. One mistake in life he made, which lowered him in my esteem, though it was entirely forgiven by the person whom it most concerned ; if he had not made that mistake he might probably have been living at this time. As it is, death is best for him, for every year would now have diminished his enjoyment of society, and his powers of entertaining those in whose society he lived. This was a sort of life which he preferred, upon calculation, to a domestic one- and it is well for him that he has not lived to feel more bitterly than he has some- times felt that he had miscalculated. I liked him, and lose whim one Of

the few remaining links that connected me with my youth. * * *

"Though he had lost ground in my esteem, still I liked him. I dare say he lost ground in his own at the same time. The longer he had lived, the more he must have felt that he had made an erroneous estimate, and at- tached too much value to the pleasure of what is called good society. Bit- terly he would have felt this when he became incapable of -administering to its amusements ; and that time must have come, and could not have been far distant. For himself, therefore, it is better that he has been removed before the burden of age came upon him, and by so easy a decay."