attached to her friends, and always ready to sympathize in their misfortunes. She was often the author of substantial but unostentatious charity." One gentleman recollects being taken to see her in his boyhood when she was very old. She bought a cane for him, and amused him by her good nature in walking up and down the room, twirling it, to show him how the young gentlemen in Edinburgh managed their canes. She had a natural taste for music; and in her old age she would to the last sing snatches of old songs-"My poor dog Tray," and "The Blind Boy," were her favorites. It was to the former air that Campbell wrote "The Harper." "It is," says Dr. Beattie, "one of the few I heard him sing in the evening of life, when for an instant the morning sun seemed again to rest on it; and it was probably the first that soothed the infant poet in his cradle, long before he attempted to lisp in rhyme."

Alexander Campbell, the poet's father, lived in social intimacy with several of the University professors. Adam Smith was his friend, and Reid baptized the poet-hence his name Thomas. When Reid sent a copy of his "Inquiry into the Human Mind" to Alexander Campbell, and heard from him the pleasure with which he read it, he said there are two men in Glasgow who understand my work-Campbell and myself.

The elder Campbell is said to have been liberal in politics. We shall not seek to determine the precise meaning in which the word is used. He was religious. The traditions of his family told of chiefs of the clan that had suffered martyrdom for the doctrines of the Church of Scotland, and his pride as well as his better feelings were interested in the cause. Family worship was then almost the universal habit of Scottish families and the fervor of the old man's extempore prayers was such that the very expressions which he used never passed away from the minds of his children. The poet, a short time before his death, said that he "had never heard language-the English liturgy excepted-more sublime than that in which his devotional feelings at such moments found utterance.”

Poetry was not among the old merchant's studies, but he loved music, and could sing a good naval song-he loved better a metaphysical wrangle or a theological dispute and when the young poet was caught versemaking, the father was perhaps happiest, for then most did the spirit of contradiction awake, and then only was he quite sure of

being right. Whatever he might think of Reid's principle of Common Sense, he could not but feel that there was something to be said for Berkeley and Locke, and in his most vehement theological discussions he would sometimes feel that the subject had slipped through his fingers, and that while the sense of positiveness remained, the very topic of the disputation had altogether vanished from his memory. Not so when young Tom's scribbled manuscript was before him. There it was-nonsense, absolute nonsense. The poor boy had to retire crest-fallen and ashamed-the father did not perhaps know that all early poetry is imitative--he thought little (and who could think much?) of the poetry of the day, the cadences of which were echoed in every line of the boy's verses

"His soul's proud instinct sought not to enjoy
Romantic fictions, like a minstrel boy;
Truth, standing on her solid square, from youth
He worshipped-stern, uncompromising truth."

The old man lived, however, to be gratified by the reception of "The Pleasures of Hope." Had Mr. Campbell been able to get rid of the anxieties of property, when he was compelled to retire from business, he would have been comparatively a happy man; but the restless ghost of his former prosperity

haunted him for the rest of life in a series of

never-ending lawsuits. A correspondent of Dr. Beattie's tells us, that in the year 1790 he passed an evening at Mr. Campbell's.

"The old gentleman, who had been a great foreign merchant, was seated in his arm-chair, and dressed in a suit of the same snuff-brown cloth, all from the same web. There were present besides Thomas, his brother Daniel, and two sisters, Elizabeth and Isabella. The father, then at the age of eighty, spoke only once to us. It was when one of his sons, Thomas I think, who was then about thirteen, and of my own age, was speaking of getting new clothes, and descanting in grave earnest as to the most fashionable colors. Tom was partial to green, I preferred blue. Lads,' said the senior, in a voice that fixed our attention, if you wish to have a lasting suit, get one like mine.' We thought he meant one of a snuff-brown color; but he added, 'I have a suit in the Court of Chancery, which has lasted thirty years; and I think it will never wear out.'"

Situations were found for the elder sons in the colonies. They ended in forming respectable mercantile establishments in Virginia and Demerara. The daughters engaged in the education of children-two as governesses in families-the third in the

management of a school. Daniel was placed in a Glasgow manufactory, where weaving and cotton-spinning were conducted on a large scale. He was a politician, and the days in which he lived were less prosperous times for a radical reformer than our own. He found Scotland too hot for him, and went to Rouen, where the poet found him conducting a large manufactory. He ceased to correspond with his family, and became a naturalized Frenchman. It is not impossible that he may be still living. Of this large family, one died in early life; he was drowned while bathing in the Clyde, when he was but thirteen years old, and his brother Thomas six. He is alluded to in an affecting passage towards the close of The Pleasures of Hope"

66

The elder part of the family had been dispersed during the early infancy of the poet, or before his birth. The father's temper was indulgent to everything but poetry, and his affections were centered on the child of his old age. The mother's temper was severe, and her notions of a parent's rights were almost as high as a Stuart's fancies of the royal prerogative, yet it was observed that her natural asperity relaxed in the management of her youngest son. Mary, the eldest sister, had already left her father's house; Isabella still remained to assist her mother in domestic details, and with her the playful child was a delightful plaything. The poet has in his letters called Isabella his poetical sister, and from her or from his mother his ear had become familiar with the ballad poetry of Scotland long before he could understand its meaning.

At eight years old he was sent to the school of Mr. Alison: his triumphs are solemnly recorded-he was always at the head of his class; his father assisted him in preparing his lessons-a fact commemorated by his classical biographer in language that swells into dignity suitable to the subject. "It must have been," says he, "a picture

in itself of no little beauty and interest, to see the venerable Nestor stooping over the versions and directing the studies of the future Tyrtæus."

The boy was overworked, and was obliged to be sent to the country. In about six weeks his health was restored, but to the effect of running wild about the fields his biographer refers his love of the country, and much of the imagery of his poems. About this time his first verses were written. Of these and of his school exercises, Dr. Beattie gives us far too many. Translations of Anacreon and thefts of strawberries distinguish his twelfth year. In the thirteenth, young Tyrtæus learned to throw stones, and gave-in plain prose-what turned out to be a very poetical or very fabulous account of the battle. The inspired boy was not unlikely to be spoiled by the young Glasgow blackguards, who with every care on the part of his parents could not but be his companions for a considerable part of the day.

Of brother Daniel our readers are probably prepared not to think very well—he was four years older than Thomas, and was now sixteen or seventeen. An old lady-a relative of their mother's-lived about two miles from Glasgow, and one of the boys was each day sent to know how she was. It was Thomas's turn, and the message to the old lady's interfered with the young urchin's gathering blackberries. "Why go there at all," said Daniel; "can't you do as I do-say she is better, or worse, and don't take the trouble of going to inquire." For weeks and for months the young scoundrels went on with fictitious bulletins, and finding that unfavorable reports were likely to make more frequent messages sent, they adopted a form that "Mrs. Simpson had a better night and was going on nicely." They at last announced her perfect recovery, and were starting on some expedition of their own when a letter arrived as broad and as long as a brick, with cross-bones and a grinning death's head on its seal," inviting the old gentleman to attend Mrs. Simpson's funeral.

In spite of this unpromising scene, Campbell's school-days gave promise of good. Alison, his schoolmaster, thought well of him. Mr. Stevenson, a surviving school-fellow of his, remembers him as taking care that fair play should be shown to him, who was an English boy, and probably the only one in the school. He passed from school to college with favorable auguries. He was in his thirteenth year when he entered college, and even from this early period his support was in part earned by his teaching younger boys. At this period he printed a ballad, called Morven and Fillan, in imitation of a passage in Ossian, and which contains some lines that bear a resemblance to his after poem of Lord Ullin's daughter.

"Loud shrieked afar the angry sprite
That rode upon the storm of night,
And loud the waves were heard to roar
That lashed on Morven's rocky shore."
Morven and Fillan.

"By this the storm grew loud apace; The water-wraith was shrieking." Lord Ullin's Daughter.

Campbell and his young friends formed debating societies, and the poet seems to have been distinguished for fluency of speech. A number of Campbell's exercises are printed by Dr. Beattie, for no better reason than that "they may revive the faded images of college life" in the minds of Campbell's few surviving college friends. Lines on the death of Marie Antoinette" are given. They are perhaps worth preserving, as they show how early the poet's ear was tuned to something of the notes in which his Hohenlinden was afterwards written.

The third session of Campbell's college life was distinguished by his continuing to take the lead in debating societies, and in his obtaining prizes for composition. He wrote a number of pasquinades on his brother students. They were written without any other feeling than that of amusing himself and others, but they were not disregarded by those who were their objects. Dr. Beattie tells that in some cases the resentment generated by satires written at this time, and utterly forgotten by Campbell in the hour in which they were thrown off as mere sportive effusions, has absolutely survived the poet himself.

Some of Campbell's jokes were for the purpose of getting a place near the stove when attending the logic class on a winter morning. He would scratch some nonsense

on the walls-a libel, perhaps, on the tall Irish students that crowded round the fire. While they rushed to read such rhymes as

"Vos Hiberni collocatis
Summum Bonum in potatoes,"

he managed to get to the stove.

Campbell was at this time an ardent politician. The French Revolution had everywhere evoked the contending spirits of Aristocracy and Democracy.

"Being," says Campbell, "in my own opinion a competent judge of politics, I became a democrat. I read Burke on the French Revolution, of course; but unable to follow his subtleties or to appreciate his merits, I took the word of my brother democrats, that he was a sophist It was in those years that the Scottish reformers, Muir, Gerald, and others, were transported to Botany Bay; Muir, though he had never uttered a sentence in favor of reform stronger than William Pitt himself had uttered, and Gerald for acts, which, in the opinion of sound English lawyers, fell short of sedition. I did not even then approve of Gerald's mode of agitating the reform question in Scotland by means of a Scottish convention; but I had heard a magnificent account of his talents and accomplishments, and I longed insufferably to see him; but the question was how to get to Edinburgh.

"While thus gravely considering the ways and means, it immediately occurred to me that I had an uncle's widow in Edinburgh; a kind, elderly lady, who had seen me at Glasgow, and said that she would be glad to receive me at her house if I should ever come to the Scottish metropolis. I watched my mother's mollia tempora fandi-for she had them, good woman-and eagerly catching the propitious moment, I said, 'Oh, mamma, how I long to see Edinburgh! If I had but three shillings, I could walk there in one day, sleep two nights, and be two days at my aunt Campbell's, and walk back in another day.** To my delightful surprise she answered, No, my bairn; and bring you back, but you must promise I will give you what will carry yon to Edinburgh me not to walk more than half the way in any one day.' That was twenty-two miles. Here,' said she, are five shillings for you in all; two will serve you to go, and two to return; for a bed at the half-way house costs but sixpence.' She then gave me I shall never forget the beautiful coin-a King William and Mary crown-piece. I was dumb with gratitude; but sallying out to the streets, I saw at the first bookseller's shop a print of Elijah fed by ravens. Now, I had often heard my poor mother saying that in case of my father's death-and he was a very old man-she knew not what would become of her. But,' she used

to add, let me not despair, for Elijah was fed by ravens. When I presented her with the picture, I

*A distance of forty-two miles-"long Scotch miles."

said nothing of its tacit allusion to the possibility of my being one day her supporter; but she was much affected, and evidently felt a strong presen

timent.

"Next morning I took my way to Edinburgh with four shillings and sixpence in my pocket. I witnessed Joseph Gerald's trial, and it was an era in my life. Hitherto I had never known what public eloquence was; and I am sure the Justiciary Scotch Lords did not help to a conception of it, speaking as they did bad arguments in broad Scotch. But the Lord Advocate's speech was good; the speeches of Laing and Gillies were better; and Gerald's speech annihilated the remembrance of all the eloquence that had ever been heard within the walls of that house. He quieted the judges, in spite of their indecent interruptions of him, and produced a silence in which you might have heard a pin fall to the ground. At the close of his defense, he saidAnd now, gentlemen of the jury; now that I have to take leave of you for ever, let me remind you that mercy is no small part of the duty of jurymen; that the man who shuts his heart on the claims of the unfortunate, on him the gates of mercy will be shut, and for him the Saviour of the world shall have died in vain. At this finish I was moved, and, turning to a stranger who sat beside me, apparently a tradesman, I said to him, By heavens, sir, that is a great man! Yes, sir,' he answered, he is not only a great man himself, but he makes every other man feel great who listens to him."

Political passion is contagious; and Campbell returned from Edinburgh an altered man -if the expression may be used in speaking of a boy of sixteen. "His characteristic sprightliness had evaporated." He did not neglect the studies of his class, but his heart was elsewhere; and his attention was divided between the "Clouds" of Aristophanes, of which he meditated a translation, and the democratic journals of the day. The case of Muir and Gerald was one singularly fitted as a topic for debating clubs, for the men were transported, under the laws of Scotland, for an offense which, at that time, was in England punishable only by fine and imprisonment. Campbell vehemently denounced the conduct of the State trials in his debating clubs, and in private society exhibited the manner of one "who suffered some personal wrong which he could neither forgive nor effectually resent." His change of manner was so sudden the violence of his indignation was such-his declamation against modern society and all its institutions was so unceasing that there seems to have been among his friends an impression of his actually having become insane; and it was not till the demon of poetry entirely possessed him that they felt wholly free from this fear. His

translation of scenes from the "Clouds" of Aristophanes was rewarded with a prize, and with the more gratifying acknowledgment from Professor Young of his version being the very best of any that had ever been given in by any student at the University. An essay on the Origin of Evil, which obtained a prize at the same time, is a skillful imitation of Pope's manner. In the course of the next session he translated some choruses from the Medea of Euripides and the Chophori of Eschylus. Dr. Beattie boldly says that the passages from Euripides hardly lost any thing of their original beauty by his translation." They gave more pleasure to the Professors at Glasgow than they have given to us; and Campbell, compelled to look round him for bread, found recommendations for the office of private tutor to a family of his own name residing in the remote Hebrides.

The poet's solemnity seems to have relaxed about this time. He thought less of politics, and was up to a piece of fun. A respectable apothecary, named Fife, had over his door in the Trongate, printed in large letters, "Ears Pierced by A FIFE," meaning the operation to which young ladies submit, for the sake of wearing ear-rings. Fife's next-door neighbor was a spirit-dealer of the name of DRUM. Campbell and his brother Daniel, assisted by a third party, who we believe is still living, got a long thin deal board, and painted on it, in capitals,

THE SPIRIT-STIRRING DRUM-THE EARPIERCING FIFE.

This they nailed one night over the contiguous doors, to the great annoyance of Drum and Fife, and to the great amusement of every one else in Glasgow. In a few days afterwards Campbell set off for Mull.

From the first, Campbell was thrown on his own resources for support. At thirteen or fourteen years of age, his means of paying his class-fees depended on his obtaining employment as a teacher of younger children; for surely, at that age, it is scarce fit to call him by any other name. The genial life of childhood or boyhood never was his, in the sense in which it is that of almost every person in the rank of life in which Campbell early took his natural and rightful position. We think that this forced and premature exertion of his faculties dwarfed his intellectual powers; that the perpetual excitement in which he was kept by his debating societies, and his

competition for college prizes, could not but be injurious; and that it was above all things fortunate when he was separated from Glasgow, and forced into the solitudes of the Hebrides. His prize-verses had been the subject of such admiration that he ran the chance of being spoiled forever; and nothing less than a separation from Glasgow and its coteries could have saved him. On the 18th of May, 1795, he started from Glasgow, in company with a class-fellow, Joseph Finlayson, and took the road to Inverary. Wordsworth, in a note to the Excursion, vindicating his choice of a pedlar as the hero of his poem, quotes a passage from Heron's Letters from Scotland, in which he says: "A young man going from any part of Scotland to England, of purpose to carry the pack, was considered as going to lead the life and acquire the fortune of a gentleman." Poor Campbell, carrying his store of learning to the Hebrides, did not feel the same elevation of spirit, when he thought of the value likely to be set on the articles in which he dealt. "I was fain," he says, 'from my father's reduced circumstances, to accept, for six months, of a tutorship in a Highland family at the farthest end of the Isle of Mull. To this, it is true, my poverty rather than my will consented. I was so little proud of it, that n passing through Greenock, I purposely omitted to call on my mother's cousin Mr. Robert Sinclair, at that time a wealthy merchant, and first magistrate of the town, with a family of nine daughters, one of whom I married some nine years afterwards." He would not tell his pretty cousirs he was going out in that capacity. He tells of an evening passed in the open air for the sake of economy. When he and Finl tyson were repairing dinnerless to their beds, they saved the life of a boy who was drowning, and then thought they earned a a far right to their dinner. The poet tells of bef-steaks vanishing before them "like smoke; then came tankards of ale; and then a night passed in singing and reciting poetry.

Life," says Campbell, speaking of this seene, "is happier in the transition than in the retrospect, but still I am bound to regard this part of my recollections of life as very agreeable. I was, it is true, very poor, but I was as gay as a lark and hardy as the Highland heather." We wish we had room for Campbell's account of this journey. "The wide world contained not two merrier boys. We sang and recited poetry throughout the long wild Highland glens." They

believed in Ossian, and Ossian had given an interest to the Gaelic people in their eyes. The Highland inns gave them herrings, potatoes and whiskey, and nothing else. Their walk seems to have been in glorious weather. Full forty years afterwards, when Campbell wrote of it, he tells of his unmeasured delight at the roaring streams and torrentsthe yellow primroses and the cuckoos-the heathy mountains, with the sound of the goats' bleating at their tops. in every muscle of my body, and my mind was satisfied that I was going to earn my bread by my own labor."

"I felt a soul

loved

my

"In the course of a long summer's day I trav ersed the whole length of the island-which must be nearly thirty miles-with not a footpath to direct me. At times I lost all traces of my way, and had no guide but the sun going westward. About twilight, however, I reached the Point Callioch,* the house of my hostess, Mrs. Campbell, of Sunipol--a worthy, sensible widow lady, who treated me with great kindness. I am sure I made a conscience of my duty towards my pupils. I never beat them-remembering how much 1 father for having never beaten me. "At first I felt melancholy in this situation, missing my college chums, and wrote a poem on my exile as doleful as anything in Ovid's Tristia. But I soon get reconciled to it. The Point of Callioch commands a magnificent prospect of thirteen Hebrid islands, among which are Staffa and Icolmkill, which I visited with enthusiasm. I sweeping across that wilder country, and of eagles had also, now and then, a sight of wild deer, perching on its shore. These objects fed the romance of my fancy, and I may say that I was at. tached to Sunipol before I took leave of it. ertheless, God wot, I was better pleased to look on the kirk steeples and whinstone causeways of Glasgow than on all the eagles and wild deer of the Highlands."

Nev

The solitude in which Campbell now lived was strangely contrasted with the busy

"The Point Callioch" is on the northern shore of Mull, where the house of Sunipol may be easily seen by any one sailing from Tobermory to Staffa. It stands quite upon the shore, and occupies the point of Mull where you first get a view of the centre of a bay immediately before you turn that wondrous island which contains the cave of Fingal.