SOUTH'S LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE. * Tars fifth volume carries on the

life of Southey from forty-six to fifty-five. Rather more than its immediate predecessor it is defi- cient in biographical incidents, and contains correspondence that might have been spared. The first characteristic was to be -ex- pected. When a man of peaceful profession or literary occu- pation has reached forty-six much novelty in his course of life can hardly be looked for. The soldier, to some extent the states- man, or even the orator, may be forced by circumstances and oppo- nents to begin as it were a new career of action or adventure ; but when the impulse is altogether voluntary and from within, few , men seem to strike out into untrodden paths after they have en- tered upon the epoch of "advancing age." The man may advance along the old road; he may eabibit great improvement, the freita of accumulated materials, mature thought, and the executive skill derived from continual practice ; bat the decade from forty-five to fifty-five will be less fruitful in external incident, and in the formation or at least the execution of new designs. "Paradise Lost," indeed, was written at a later period of life but it WAS designed many years earlier, and was a subject Of meditation when the pressure of public employment rendered iti execution impracticable. A similar remark may be made on the "Divine Comedy." Some very great characters in art and letters died be- fore they entered upon the fifth decade of human life,—as Raf- facile, Byron, Burns, Pascal ; Shakspere himself died at fifty-two, having retired some years before. But if not very stilling, the nine years of Southey's life from 1820 to 1828 were tolerably busy ones. He wrote the Life of Wesley, the Book of the Church and its Vindication, his Colloquies with Sir Thomas Mare, the greater part of his Peninsular War, and the Life of Oliver Cromwell. He also began "The Doctor " ; planned, amongst other things, a life of Fox the founder of the sect of Quakers—which he would have made very entertaining, and a History of the Monastic Orders—the non-execution of which is a loss to literature, and to Southey's own reputation, for few men were so well qualified by their knowledge to write it, and still fewer could have written it so well. Poetry on a large scale he almost ceased to compose; he complained that he wanted the fluency of his younger days. His most remarkable effort in verse was the celebrated "Vision of Judgment " •' a piece to whose lite- defects he was blind, as well as to its excessive presumption and impropriety. Iris daily literary labours were as indefatigable as ever ; the Fordo Quarterly Renew and the Annuals being add- to the old Quarterly ; he moreover began his Autobiography, as a posthimmus property for his family. It was during this I' The Life and Correspondence of Robert Southey. Edited by his Son, the Reve- rend Charles Cuthbert Southey, M.A., Comte of Plumblead, Cumberland. In six volumes. Volume V. Published by Longman and Co. epoch that he was elected to a seat for the borough of Downton, by Lord Radnor, to whom he was unknown, and who intimated the fact of the election in an imsign.edletter. With a wisdom worthy of the sage who inculcated the maxim "Know thyself," Southey declined the offer, and treated the return as nu/l, on the grounds that he was a pensioner and lacked. the qualification. The first objection could readily have been got over by making his pension. for life. Some zealous Protestants, with Sir Robert Harry Inglis at their head, proposed to subscribe and purchase for him a qua- lification; when he spoke out, as follows, in a letter to his brother.

"An estate of 3001. a year would be a very agreeable thing for me, Robert T.oelrlaud, and I would willingly change that name for it : the convenipnep, however, of having an estate is not the question which I am called upon to determine. It is (supposing the arrangement possible, which I greatly doubt) whether I will into nto public life at an age when a wise maa would begin to think of retiring from it : whether I will place myself in a situation for which neither my habits, nor talents, nor disposition are suited; and in which I feel and know it to be impossible that I should fulfil the expectations of those who would raise the subscriptions. Others ought to believe me, and you will, when I declare that in any public assembly I should have no confidence in myself, no promptitude, none of that presence of mind without which no man can produce any effect there. This ought to be be- lieved, because I have them all when aohng in my proper station and in my

own way, ,

and therefore cannot be supposed to speak from timidity, nor with any affectation of humility. Sir Robert Inglis and his friends have e he Pro- testant cause at heart, and imagine that I could serve it in Parliament. / have it at heart also, deeply at heart ; and will serve it to the utmost of ray power, so help me God] ' But it is not by speaking in public that I can serve it. It is by bringing forth the knowledge which so h.7,e a part of my life has been passed in acquiring ; by exposing the real character and history of the 'lowish Church, systematically and irrefragabIy, (which I can and will do,) in books which will be read now and hereafter, which must make a part hereafter of every historical library, and which ;rill live and act when I am gone. If I felt that 1 eould make an impression in Parliament, even then I would not give up future utility for present effect. I have too little ambition of one kind, and too much of another, to make the sacrifice. But I could make no impression there. I should only disappoint those who had contributed to place me there ; and in this point of view it is a matter of prudence, as well as in all others of duty, to hold my first resolution, and remain contentedly in that station of life to which it has pleased God to call me. If a seat in Parliament were made compatible with my circumstances, it would not be so with my inclinations, habits, and pursuits, and therefore I must remain Robert Laeldand.

"You will not suppose that I despise 3001. a year or should lightly refuse it But I think you will feel, upon reflection, that I have decided properly in refusing to sit in Parliament under any circumstances.

The regular correspondents are nearly the same as in the former volumes, varied a little by deaths and new accessions : but we think the topics have less general attraction. It is a characteristic of the time of life he had entered upon, to take less interest in general affairs, unless we have some direct concern in them. There are consequently fewer remarks on public events, unless with respect to something which the writer had in. hand. at the time. Even the Byron controversy or squabble, the notice of which was deferred to this volume, is less full in particulars than might have been expected, and adds nothing to what was already known, except Southey's personal opinions upon the subject. The fact is' that he was in a measure case-hardened to assault by self- opinion ; and his warmth of feeling, borrowing something from the violent excitement of the times, rather blinded him to the true state of the case. Annually recurring attacks of a respiratory complaint drove him upon annual excursions ; but his relish for external novelty seemed less than of yore. His fertility, how- ever, remained, and his sportiveness ; for which last the world has not given him sufficient credit. The following letter in rhyming prose is a singular jeu d'esprit.

"To Edith ..ray Southey.

" Shrewsbuq, April 25, RIM "Having nothing else to de for a dismal hour or two, I sit down to write to you, in such ritym:ft as may ensue, be they many be they few, wording to the cue which I happen to pursue. I was obliged to stay at LIangedwin till today : though I wished to come away, Wynn would make me delay my departure yesterday, in order that he and I might go to see a place whereof he once sent a drawing to me. "And now I'll tell you why it was proper that I shouldgo thither to espy the place with mine own eye. 'Tis a church in a vale ; whereby hangs a tale, how a hare being pressed by the dogs and much distressed, the hunters coming nigh and the dogs in full cry, looked about for some one to defend her, and saw just in time, as it now comes pat in rhyme, a saint of the feminine gender. "The saint was buried there, and a figure carved with care, in the church- yard is shown, as being her own ; but 'tis used for a whetstone, (like the stone at our back-door,) till the pity is the more, a should say the mare's the pity, if it suited with my Mtn) it is whetted half away,—lack-a-day, lack-a-day !

"They show a mammoth's rib (was there ever such a. fib ?) as belonging to the saint Melangel. It was no use to wrangle, and tell the simple people, that if this had been her bane, she must certainly have grown to be three times as tall as the steeple.

"Moreover, there is shown a monumental stone, as being the tomb of Yor- werth Drwawn (w, you must know, serves in Welsh for long o.) In the portfolio there are drawings of their tombs, and of the church also. This Yorvrerth was killed six hundred years ago. Nevertheless, as perhaps you may guess, he happened to be an acquaintance of mine ; and therefore I al- ways have had a design to pay him a visit whenever I could, and now the intention is at last made good. . . . .

"God bless you!

A test of Southey's goodness of disposition, and the influence he exercised over his contemporaries, is shown in the applications to him from small poets, or persons generally wanting advice, and the fulness and thoroughness of his replies. One of these correspond- ents was a man of sceptical opinions, who subsequently made away with himself, having requested that Southey should write his life. It is curious on several accounts; not the least of which is that Southey felt positive of the man's sanity from his letters, till he came to examine the whole of his papers, when he became as con.- vinced of his lunacy. We, however, allude to it for the sake of quoting Southey's confession of faith, made in a letter to this cor- reepondanL A very unorthodox one it is, and, theologically speak- ing, it differs but little from his old Deism. tt To

" Keswick, March 2, 1819.

"

Your letter, my dear Sr, affects me greatly. It represents a state of mind into which I also should have fallen, had it not been for that support which you are not disposed to think necessary for the soul of man.

" I, too, identified my own hopes with hopes for 11111311-Ilad, and at the price of any self-sacrifice would have promoted the good of my fellow creatisres. I, too, have been disappointed in being undeceived ; but harrying learnt to temper hope with patience, and when I lift up my spirit to its Creator and Redeemer, to say, not with the lips alone, but with the heart also, 'Thy will lie done," I feel that whatever afflictions I have endured have been dispensesi to me in mercy, and am deeply and devoutly thankful for what I am, and what I hope to be when I shall burst ray shetL • "Oh, Far! religion lathe one thing needful. Without it, ne ene can be truly happy ; (do you not feel this ?) with it, no one can be entirely miser- able: With,...t it, this -world would be a mystery too dreadful to be borne— our best affections and our noblest desires a mere juggle and a curse ; and it were better, indeed, to lie-nothing than the -things we are. I am no bigot. I believe that men will be judged by their actions and intentions, not their creed. I am e Christian ; and so will Turk, Jew, and Gentile be, in heaven, if they have lived well according to the light which was vouchsafed them. I do not fear that there will be a great gulph between you and me in the world which we meat both enter ; but if I could persuade you to look on toward that world with the eyes of faith, a change would be operated in all your views and feermga, and hope and joy end love would be with yo n to your latest breath,—universal love—love for mankind, and for the Universal Father, into whose hands you are about to render up your spirit."