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LITERARY CONNEXIONS.

CHAPTER IX.

Return to England-Mr. Drummond-Keswick-Coleridge and Wordsworth-Cumberland Scenery-Secretaryship to the Chancellor of the Exchequer for Ireland - Celebrated Characters-Death of his Mother Chatterton's Sister -Sir Herbert Croft-Birth of a Daughter-House-hunting -Literature.

ETAT. 27-29.

SOUTHEY, having completed his arrangements, returned to England and took up his residence once more at Bristol. He found that many changes had been wrought during his absence. His intimate friend Davy, who was for him one of its chief attractions, Ihad left for the more ambitious circles of the metropolis; and many faces he expected would have welcomed. him back, had disappeared altogether from the theatre of life.

His first object was to renew his connexions with the publishers; and in this he was so successful, that within a short time his hands were as fully employed as ever. He had not, however, changed his opinions

COLERIDGE AND WORDSWORTH.

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a means of sup

with respect to literary labour as port, and now only regarded his resumption of it as temporary. By the exertions of his friend Wynn, a prospect of obtaining the office of secretary to Mr. Drummond, who was about to proceed as ambassador, first to Palermo and afterwards to the Ottoman Porte, was opened to him. This would have been a post peculiarly grateful to his temperament. The easy duties it entailed, the fixed salary which it afforded, though small, and the leisure it would give him to proceed with that which now constituted the great object of his thoughts-the History of Portugal-pointed it out as a situation peculiarly adapted for him. His residence abroad in the genial atmosphere of the South had created a discontent with English scenery, climate, and habits; and in his letters of this date he constantly disparages the natural beauties of his own country, by the unfavourable comparison he draws between it and the scenery around Lisbon. His friend, however, was not successful in his endeavours, and this was one more added to the list of disappointments which Southey in the course of his long life had to experience.

Coleridge was at this time residing at Greta Hall, near Keswick. In the neighbourhood Wordsworth was also living; and though the hills of this mountainous district intervened and interrupted their intercourse in winter, in summer a ramble across them was always delightful, and repaid by the hearty welcome and hos

deeply into human nature appeared contemptible, and made him think more despicably (such is his own expression) of mankind than he could wish to do. "As if this were a baptism that purified me from all my sins -a regeneration; and the one congratulates me, and the other visits me, as if the author of Joan of Arc' and Thalaba' were made a greater man by scribbling for the Irish Chancellor of the Exchequer! However, by these symptoms," he adds, "I suppose my situation

6

to be a good one."

The duties Southey had to perform are humorously described in a letter to his friend John Rickman, and consisted chiefly in making out a catalogue of books published since '97, on finance and scarcity; or in reading up the questions of the corn-laws, finance, and tithes all which appears to have been light work. He did not, however, escape the satirical raillery to which publie men and public officers are frequently exposed ; and the popular journals of the day expressed a hope that the poet would make no false numbers in his new work, besides similar innuendoes and political bantering.

A new year had opened upon him, but its dawn was overcast by the clouds of affliction. On the 5th of January, his mother, who had joined him on his return from Ireland, and had been for some time in a declining state, expired. This, with the exception, perhaps, of

* Letter to Mr. Taylor of Norwich, November 1801.

DEATH OF SOUTHEY'S MOTHER.

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the loss of his friend Edmund Seward, was the first sorrow he was doomed to know. In his earlier years he had experienced less of maternal care than most children of his class and station. But since his father's death he had contributed chiefly, if not altogether, to her support, and the piety and affection of a son seemed to thrive still stronger by its late maturity. Indeed, although he felt that he had been a source of much consolation to her, he discovered not until she was removed how deeply rooted his affection had sunk, or how dear a pang the separation would cost. She appears to have been a woman of most gentle and amiable disposition, too easily swayed by her imperious halfsister (the disparity of their ages may offer some excuse), and evincing great tenderness towards her children. She was only in her fiftieth year.

The next few months passed away in the discharge of his official duties, which were more nominal than real. His life is described at this period as undiversified by any other than the ordinary occurrence of a friend dropping in to-day and another to-morrow. Yet we have occasionally an announcement of "the growth of his history satisfying him;" by which we are led to infer that he was busy during his leisure hours upon it. Whilst still labouring under the depression of spirits caused by his mother's death, he determined upon a journey to Norwich, to visit Mr. William Taylor.

His mind was, however, unsettled. There were

tion to the history of their doctrines, to the lives and pretensions of their saints, and to the influence of their worship. To one whose eyes are open, the gross and unblushing violation of every law, human and divine, can so clearly be brought home to that church, that it is no wonder Southey felt then, and continued to feel to the end of his life, that no quarter should be given to a community holding such principles of duplicity; whose avowed faith is aggression, whose presumption absolves men from the guilt attached to the worst crimes, whose spirit is intolerant, and whose reign has been the triumph of the most abject and cruel tyranny.

During the summer Southey retired with his uncle to the cool and refreshing hills of Cintra, a town of small dimensions, consisting of a palace, a plaza or square, and a number of narrow, crooked streets, winding down the sides. Behind rose the Rock of Lisbon,— as it is termed by the sailors from the sea, or as it is designated by the inhabitants, the Mountain of Cintra, -broken into a number of pyramidal summits of rock piled upon rock, some covered with verdure, some ruggedly barren. On one hand stood the Penha convent, on the other the ruins of a Moorish castle. The road which ascended these heights formed a beautiful terrace, commanding a splendid and boundless prospect. The stony summits of the hills were succeeded by slopes, growing gradually more green and luxuriant as