deen on the Commission of Inquiry, and doing his utmost to preserve the privileges of his students; and so grateful were "his boys," as he called them, that, to testify their admiration and cordial respect, they resolved to strain every nerve to reëlect him for the third time,an honor the highest that they could confer. No such instance had happened for a century previously. This honor, however, was disputed. Sir Walter Scott was put forward as a competitor, and was supported by the Vice-rector. Campbell, however, was reëlected for the year 1829; and, by his exertions, permanent advantages were secured for his "darling boys." "For three years," says a writer in Blackwood's Magazine for February, 1849, "during which unusual period he held the office, his correspondence with the students never flagged; and it may be doubted whether the university ever possessed a better Rector." A club bearing his name was founded in his honor, and the students presented him with a silver bowl, which he prized highly and mentions in his will.

During the year 1829 he formed a society with the title of the Literary Union, the object of which was to bring the literary men of London into habits of more social and friendly intercourse than then existed. Campbell had been one of the original founders, and a regular attendant down to this time, of the Athenæum Club. Why he abandoned it to set up a rival institution in its neighborhood, is not stated. It is surmised by the Quarterly Review that he had been offended by the reluctance of the old committee to facilitate the admission of some of his Polish and Irish friends, while in the new club he had everything his own way. He presided over it till 1843, but it did not long survive its founder.

Early in 1830 the poet was shocked by the death of his friend, Sir Thomas Lawrence. He commenced soon afterwards the preparation of his biography, but abandoned it in consequence of the impatience of the booksellers, and the difficulty of collecting the necessary materials. The following extracts from his correspondence of this year will be read with interest:

"June 2d. I am happy to tell you, my dearest sister, that I have at last had the pleasure of seeing young Milnes under my roof. He is a charming young man. I had a party of twelve at dinner about a week ago, where he met the family of the Calcotts; and they admired him so much that they asked me for his address, that they might

invite him to their house. Calcott is an artist of the very first-rate genius and estimation. He might have been President, if he had chosen to stand candidate at the late election. His wife was the Maria Graham who wrote her travels in South America and India.

"I have been spending a month in the country with an excellent young friend, the author of The Silent River, and another beautiful little drama. I was very happy there-too happy to be industrious; and the life of Sir Thomas was therefore suspended. My health, however, has been benefited.

"Aug. 26th.

On Monday last I had my dear friends,

Mrs. Dugald Stewart and her daughter, to dine with me.

had also the good fortune to have that day the great Cuvier and his daughter for my guests.

"Baron Cuvier is delightfully simple as you could wish a firstrate great man to be; and his daughter, or I should say his stepdaughter, M'lle Devaucel, enchanted us all. Mr. Rogers, who knew her at Paris, and was with us, said that she had a sort of fascination over all the savans in Paris; and a wager was laid that she would fascinate even the giraffe. It really so happened; and the stupendous animal, twenty-two feet high, used to follow her about like a lamb.

"Sept. 28th.-I am so fatigued by finishing the October number of the New Monthly, that I can hardly hold a pen; I have had agitation superadded to fatigue. You remember that the end of last month I went to visit my poor boy; I went out of town with a full assurance on my mind that there was no objectionable paper for the September number in the hands of the printer - no paper which I had not seen and approved of. The bargain between Colburn and myself gives me the privilege as an editor. Judge of my horror, when I returned to town, to find that an article had been printed attacking the memory of Dr. Glennie, of Dulwich, a man with whom you know I was on intimate and kindly terms of friendship. I have made in the forthcoming number a full and distinct explanation of this accident. The vile paper was sent by —, whom Dr. Glennie would not allow to try experiments on Lord B- -'s foot, when Lord B

Dr. G.'s pupil."

was

This circumstance led to the close of his editorial relations with Mr. Colburn's magazine.

CHAPTER VII.

Ir had been Campbell's intention, on leaving the New Monthly, to withdraw from all connection with periodical literature, and so to husband his resources as to live without the "drudgery of authorship." But, on adjusting accounts with his publisher, he found himself largely in debt; and then commenced the traffic on his name which associated it with works unworthy of his high reputation. In 1831 he became connected with the Metropolitan Magazine, originally as editor, afterwards as part proprietor, with Mr. Cochrane, the publisher, and Captain Chamier. His friend Rogers lent him five hundred pounds to pay for his share in the partnership, for which the banker-poet refused to take security. Campbell, however, was not to be outdone in delicacy or punctilio where money was concerned, and caused a security to be made by a life insurance, and a lien upon his library and furniture. Not long after, he learned, to his dismay, that the speculation was a bubble, and weeks elapsed before he succeeded in withdrawing his money from a bankrupt concern. We can well imagine the weight that was lifted from his heart when he was able to write to his friend, "I am very happy to tell you that the five hundred, which you so generously lent me, is safe at my banker's in St. James-street, and waits your calling for it. Blessed be God, that I have saved both it and myself from being involved as partner in The Metropolitan!"

During the summer of this year he passed some time at St. Leonard's, where his health was much improved by the balmy sca-air, and where his poetic faculty came back to him with its old glow and vigor. He was secure here from social temptations, and wrote more verses than he had written for many years before within the same time. The magnificent poem on the sea, which Campbell in his later years considered his finest production, and which is entirely worthy of his early fame, was written here in the course of eight or nine days. Here also he wrote the Lines on Poland. These two poems, which first appeared in the Metropolitan, he republished in a brochure, in the hope, by selling it at a couple of shillings, to raise fifty pounds for the Polish charities in which he was now largely involved. In the autumn he wrote to a friend :

"I find St. Leonard's still, on the whole, agree pretty well with my health, though the highly bracing effect of the sea-air has gone with its novelty, and there is something either in its saline particles, or in the glaring light of the place, that affects my eyes most disagreeably. The society also though the sea is not accountable for others - is too changeable. The disagreeable gentry are, for the most part, the most permanent; and the agreeables almost as soon as you begin to know the value of their society, like 'riches, take unto themselves wings and flee away.' I experience this mutability of the place very much in a little literary society which I have formed, and which is called The Monks of St. Leonard's, and of which I am the venerable Abbot! All our best cowls are going away-and very dull ones remaining in their stead.”

About this time Campbell was in correspondence with Mrs. Arkwright in regard to setting some of his poems to music. "There are no verses of mine," he tells her in one of his letters," that I shall not think the better of, for their being selected by you as the subjects of musical composition." "You may turn every line of me into music," he writes again, "if you think me worth the honor. Would to heaven you could turn my poor self into a pleasant tune! But the difficulty would be how to set me. I am too graceless for a psalmtune, too dull for a glee, and too irregular for a march." In one of his letters to this accomplished lady, he expresses his pleasure to find that Mrs Hemans is one of her favorite poets. "She seems to me," he adds, "a genius singularly fitted for the accompaniment of your graceful and noble musical powers. She may not be the boldest and deepest of female geniuses, though the richness of her vein is very sterling; but, to my taste, she is the most elegant (lyric) poetess that England has produced. I hope you are personally acquainted with her, which, I am sorry to say, I am not."

Mrs. Arkwright, as we have mentioned, was a daughter of Stephen Kemble, and, in allusion to a meeting with that distinguished actor many years previously, he says: "As your father was the first who rejoiced my ear by commending the beginning of my first poem, so I have a superstitious joy in thanking his daughter for setting its conclusion to music."

In October, 1831, he paid a visit to Mr. Arkwright and his family in Derbyshire, where he renewed his intimacy with the Kembles, and

talked with his host about farming and machinery, both of which he found" amusing subjects." But he preferred, no doubt, another part of his entertainment, which was reading poetry to Mrs. Arkwright and the ladies. He was at all times devoted to the society of the sex, and very susceptible to their charms. Even in his widowhood he found as many Carolines and Amandas as he used to rave about when he was a handsome bachelor at Mull. Every now and then he attached himself to some amiable and accomplished female, who put him to considerable expense in new wigs and dress-coats, to say nothing of more spacious lodgings, and more stylish furniture. But, if he was volatile in love, he was steadfast in friendship; and it does not seem to have been his own fault that he failed to form a new connection, "to restore him to the happiness of married life.”

-

At Mr. Arkwright's he made the acquaintance of Neukomm, whose performances on the organ struck him with wonder and admiration. “That a human being could create such sounds," he said, "I never imagined. Such glory, such radiance of sound, such mystery, such speaking dreams, that bring angels to smile upon you,—such luxury and pathos! O, it is no learned music — it is a soul speaking as if from heaven! No disparagement to Paganini, he is the wonderful itself, in music- but Heavens! what has he to do with the heart, like this organ-music of Neukomm? I seem as if I had never heard music before. We were all wrapped in astonishment! It was strange to see the expressions of ecstasy in the vulgarest rustic faces. ** He is a highly-polished man, and as meek and amiable as he is wonderful. The pleasure of his company beguiled me to go and hear him again on the organ yesterday, and I almost wished I had not gone. His playing was, if possible, more exquisite. It was too - too much. He made me imagine my child, Alison, was speaking to me from heaven! Again as if he knew what was passing in my thoughts about Poland, he introduced martial music, and what seemed to me lamentations for the slain. I suspect he did so purposely; for we had spoken much of the Poles. I could not support this. Luckily I had a pew to myself; and I believe, and trust, I escaped notice. But when two pieces were over I got out as quietly as I could to a lonely part of the church-yard, where I hid myself, and gave way to almost convulsive sensations. I have not recovered this inconceivably pleasing and painful shock."