Why do I joy the lonely spot to view

By artless friendship bless'd, when life was new?"

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 centred 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 lessonsa 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; 66 can't you do as I do say she is better, or worse, and don't

School and College Days.

465

take the trouble of going to inquire." For weeks and for months the young scoundrels went on with fictitious bulletins, and finding that unfavourable 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 66 as broad and as long as a brick, with cross-bones and a grinning death's head on its seal," invitting the old gentleman to attend Mrs. Simpson's funeral.

6

"Mr. and Mrs. Campbell looked at the letter, then at their two hopeful sons, and then at one another. But such were their grief and astonishment that neither of them could utter a word. 'At last,' says the poet, my mother's grief for her cousin vented itself in cuffing But I was far less pained by her blows than by a few words from my father. He never raised a hand to us; and I would advise all fathers, who would have their children to love their memory, to follow his example."

our ears.

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 shewn to him, who was an English boy, and probably the only one in the school. He past from school to college with favourable 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."

66

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 favour 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—' O 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

Walk from Glasgow to Edinburgh—Gerald's Trial. 467

6

day.' To my delightful surprise she answered-No, my bairn; I will give you what will carry you to Edinburgh and bring you back, but you must promise me not to walk more than half the way in any one day.' That was twenty-two miles. Here,' said she, 6 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 never shall 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 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 presentiment.

"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 defence, he said- And 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

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

debating clubs, for the men were transported, under the laws of Scotland, for an offence 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 suddenthe 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 skilful 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 anything 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 neighbour 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 EAR-PIERCING 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