should otherwise have gone without a dinner, was left with a fair fortune of from 10,000l. to 15,000, and without any vice or extravagance of his own he has lost the whole of it. A stroke of the palsy has utterly disabled him from doing anything to maintain himself. In this pitiable case, Lamb and I have promised him 107. a year each as long as he lives. You will understand that this is an explanation to you, not an application. In a case of this kind contributions become a matter of feeling and duty among those who know the party, but strangers are not to be looked to." In 1821, Mr. May, a gentleman from whom Southey in early life had received substantial service, fell into serious pecuniary difficulties himself. On the 10th of December in that year the poet writes to his old benefactor, entreating him to break away from business, and to put himself in the mail for Keswick, that change of air and scene may assist him in bearing his anxieties, and enable him "to lay in a store of pleasant recollections." At the same time, while confessing that it is not often he allows himself to wish the accidents of fortune had been more in his favour, Southey intimates that by the same post he has directed his friend Bedford to transfer to Mr. May 6257. in the Three per Cents.-his whole savings! "I wish it was more," are his words, "and that I had more at command in any way. I shall in the spring, if I am paid for the first volume of my History as soon as it is finished. 1007. I should, at all events, have sent you then. It shall be as much more as I may receive." We make no apology for dwelling at length upon these circumstances. If biography be

HIS AID TO STRUGGLING GENIUS.

187

not utterly worthless, these illustrations of Southey's character have an inestimable value. Look at him, pen in hand, the indefatigable day labourer in his literary seclusion, with no inheritance but his vigorous intellect, no revenue but such as his well-stored mind and matchless industry can furnish, perfect in the manifold relation of husband, brother, father, friend, and by his chosen labours delighting and instructing the world, as well as ministering to the daily happiness of his needy circle,-Look, we say, and confess that heroism is here which conquerors might envy !

Nor was it alone by gifts of money that Southey evinced the natural goodness of his heart, and his eager desire to benefit his fellow-men. He was never so occupied but that he could find time to guide uninstructed genius through its mazy paths, and, if necessary, to accompany the aspiring and friendless some distance on their critical and uncertain journey. Few things are more affecting than the relations of Southey with the young and ardent poets who at various times applied to him for encouragement and help, and who never approached in fear but to be dismissed with even more than hope and healthy reassurance. A year or two after he had helped to rescue Chatterton's sister from want, poor Henry Kirke White published his small volume of poems, which was at once mercilessly and unjustly attacked by one of the leading Reviews of the day. The pathetic letter which Kirke White addressed to the Review, explaining the peculiar circumstances under which his verses were written, caught Southey's eye, and he wrote immediately to the lad, beseeching him to bear up, to proceed in the road he had taken,

and to rely upon the writer's aid if he should think fit to publish again. Kirke White returned a grateful answer to his correspondent, promised to act in conformity with his instructions, and proceeded to Cambridge, where hard work rapidly killed him. What Kirke White could not do for himself Southey accomplished for him after his death. He collected his Remains, wrote a brief memoir of his life to accompany them, and vindicated the genius which was extinguished before it had time to secure its immortality.

Southey's "Abstain

A melancholy halo surrounds the history of more than one fine-spirited youth, who, encouraged by the tenderness exhibited for Kirke White, freely communicated to Southey their poetic longings, with the hope of interesting the benefactor on their behalf. In 1813 a lad of the name of Dusautoy, then about seventeen years of age, the son of a retired officer living in Devon, and one of a numerous family, inclosed some verses to Southey, requesting the poet's opinion and advice as to their publication. answer was to warn and teach forbearance. from publication," was the sage advice: "read and write. Shoot at a high mark, and you will gain strength of arm. Precision of aim will come in its proper season." The boy proceeded to Cambridge, Southey having taken some trouble to procure him admission into Emmanuel. In the college examinations he stood first of his year in classics, and fourth in mathematics; he obtained several exhibitions, and was on the high road to University honours, when he fell a victim to a fever that broke out in the town. “I do not think," says Southey, "there ever lived

THE CASE OF HERBERT KNOWLES.

189

means of

a youth of higher promise." At one time he intended to publish the student's papers. "In seeking to serve him," he says, "I have been the sending him prematurely to the grave. least endeavour to preserve his memory."

I will at

The case of Herbert Knowles has a still more painful interest than that of Dusautoy. Knowles was a poor boy of the humblest origin, without father or mother, yet with abilities sufficient to excite the attention of strangers, who subscribed 207. a-year towards his education, upon condition that his friends. should furnish 307. more. The boy was sent to Richmond School, Yorkshire, preparatory to his proceeding as a sizar to St. John's, but when he quitted school the friends were unable to advance another sixpence on his account. To help himself Herbert Knowles wrote a poem, sent it to Southey, with a history of his case, and asked permission to dedicate it to the Laureate. Southey, finding the poem "brimful of power and of promise," made inquiries of the schoolmaster, and received the highest character of the youth. He then answered the application of Knowles, entreated him to avoid present publication, and promised to do something better than receive his dedication. He subscribed at once 107. per annum towards the failing 307., and procured similar subscriptions from Mr. Rogers and the late Lord. Spencer. Herbert Knowles receiving the news of his good fortune, wrote to his protector a letter remarkable for much more than the gratitude which pervaded every line. He remembered that Kirke White had gone to the university countenanced and supported by patrons, and that to pay back the debt

he owed them he wrought day and night, until his delicate frame gave way, and his life became the penalty of his devotion. Herbert Knowles felt that he could not make the same desperate efforts, and deemed it his first duty to say so. "I will not deceive,” he writes in his touching anxiety : :

"Far be it from me to foster expectations which I feel I cannot gratify. Two years ago I came to Richmond totally ignorant of classical and mathematical literature. Out of that time, during three months and two long vacations, I have made but a retrograde course. If I enter into competition for university honours, I shall kill myself. Could I twine, to gratify my friends, a laurel with the cypress, I would not repine, but to sacrifice the little inward peace which the wreck of passion has left behind, and relinquish every hope of future excellence and future usefulness in one wild and unavailing pursuit, were indeed a madman's act, and worthy of a madman's fate."

The poor fellow promised to do what he could, assured his friends that he would not be idle, and that if he could not reflect upon them any extraordinary credit, he would certainly do them no disgrace. Herbert Knowles had taken an accurate measure of his strength and capabilities, and soon gave proof that he spoke at the bidding of no uncertain monitor within him. Two months after his letter to Southey he was laid in his grave. The fire consumed the lamp even faster than the trembling lad suspected.

But we must dwell no longer upon this fair portion of the Laureate's character, though it be the fairest we have it in our power to present. Ebenezer