CHAPTER IV.

GRAY.

THE life of a man of letters is proverbially barren of those sources of interest which call attention to the sayings and doings of men, living a more active career. The soldier eager for the honours of "th' imminent deadly breach," and the sailor daring the perils of the foaming deep,-the statesman venturing to uphold the banner of freedom amid the conflict of party, are objects that at once strike upon the attention by the prominence of their attitudes, and the energy of their vocations; but the man of letters is a thinking, not an acting being-the eagles, the stormy petrels, our heroes of land and water, belong to a species in the animal world quite distinct from him he claims but the humble rank of the poor silkworm who labours for others, and dies when his work is completed. Quietly goes on the process of the literary cocoon-it is the bone and sinew, the flesh and nerve of the manufacturer-it knows nothing of the gory honours of war-it is equally ignorant of the

awful marvels of the storm; the invisible filaments of the brain are carefully spun into a continuous thread that is to form a durable raiment for the minds of unborn generations, and when the industrious agent of this vast benefaction has executed his task, it too often becomes both his shroud and his monument-it contains the elements of his existence, and the evidence of his fame.

Such is the type of these humble creatures, whose lives are so uneventful to those in whose service they live and die. Humble creatures indeed! not only too humble to be honoured, but too insignificant even to be protected. The State allows them, when living, no position, on any consideration-the Church will afford them, when dead, a place in her edifices, only for "a consideration."-The Law seems to have omitted them from the Statute books; and all other professions unite in pillaging their honours, whilst denying them their countenance and assistance.

Who thinks of the aching head, the smarting eyes, the trembling hand, and the feeble body, when reading the vigorous thought that stirs and thrills the spirit of a whole nation? The man has become a chrysalis-dry, mis-shapen, and worthless. In the black fluid that dripped from the point of the unwearying quill, and disfigured with irregular lines innumerable pages of innocent paper, ran out the vital current that once brought fitful pulses to his heart-flowed forth the electric power that gave such wondrous energy to his brain. The page had less of

ink on its surface than of the higher elements of humanity-it possessed the vitality which this humble creature in the scale of creation had lost when he passed from amongst us.

There may be nothing like that which exists in romances, in the life of him who exhausts his powerful imagination in creating them; the course of the poet may be one of the commonest matter of fact; the career of the scholar is often entirely devoid of refined association; yet there ought to be an interest in the vast family of which he is a member, that should invest with romance, with poetry, the most insignificant, the most common, the most simple action of his honourable existence.

Although elsewhere we have had occasion to allude to him incidentally, we shall make no apology for drawing the attention of the reader more particularly to the career of one of the most inactive men of Letters which that unadventurous brotherhood ever produced. Viewed through the medium of the interest which legitimately attaches to genius, we are confident that the few incidents in the life of such a man as Thomas Gray will appear important links of a chain of existence whose value was precious beyond all calculation.

Gray was born on the 26th of December, 1716, in the city of London, and was the son of a respectable money scrivener in Cornhill, who however, n twithstanding his respectability, does not appear to have been very prudent. The boy's uncle, Mr. Antrobus,

was one of the assistant masters of Eton School, which caused his being sent at a proper age to that Institution, and here, as we have said, commenced his friendship with Horace Walpole, who besides being two years his senior, was in a position in society that made such an associate highly desirable to the young citizen. At Eton young Gray pursued his studies with remarkable zeal, and soon distinguished himself by writing Latin verses. His literary predilections recommended him to the son of the Prime Minister, with whom he wrote poetry and read romances till he left school for College. But at Cambridge the intimacy was resumed and continued with greater warmth than ever.

Gray was an indefatigable student,—he translated, and he wrote Latin poetry, and grew familiar with the Greek poets-he pored over Norse legends and Welsh triads-made himself master of Botany, dipped deep into philosophy, and was gathering rich stores from almost every branch of knowledge cultivated at the University, with the exception of the Exact Sciences, for the serious study of which his lively imagination unfitted him.

Very few of Gray's English poems written at College, have been preserved-as he then chose to woo the Muse in a Latin dress. The metrical translation from Statius, bears the date "May 8th, 1736," and deserves to be regarded as a creditable example of College versification. But those who had the care of his education, soon considered that it was sufficiently

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advanced, to enable him to commence a profession with credit, and the law having been selected, it was arranged that he should leave his quiet rooms at Cambridge, to which he was much attached, for an obscure nook in the Temple, for which he had not the slightest inclination. That he would have followed the example set him by so many of his poetical predecessors when placed under similar circumstances. "And penned a stanza when he should engross,"

is more than probable. To the representations and entreaties of his affectionate friend Walpole he owed his escape from becoming a bad lawyer.

Young Horace was about starting for the continent, and induced his schoolfellow to accompany him. The Temple career was abandoned, and instead of poring over musty law-books, the young citizen was absorbed in the study of foreign antiquities, or wandering from city to city with all the feverish restlessness of a highly imaginative mind, surrounded by new sources of wonder and admiration. The letters Gray wrote from abroad show how deep an impression was made upon his intellect by the numerous objects of interest presented to him whilst making the tour of France and Italy. He became more and more engrossed in the new studies thrown open to him, and apparently grudged every hour that could not be passed in study or contemplation. As he became more and more studious, he grew less and less social, and his attached friend, on whom foreign travel had exercised its most social influence, at last abruptly