ROBERT, a poet-laureate of England, and a singularly industrious man of letters, was the son of a linen-draper at Bristol, where he was born on the 12th of August 1774. His ancestors were yeomen of Somersetshire; and as they bore arms of a religious character, he indulged in the fancy that, in distant crusading times, a Southey may have broken a spear with the infidel on the plains of Palestine. During his childhood, books were a very rare commodity. The small paternal cupboard that contained the family crystal likewise found a place for all the books the linen-draper possessed. His aunt, however, a foolishly eccentric lady, who had a passion for theatricals, and with whom he spent the most of his youth, duly introduced him to the giants of the drama. A neighbouring library of some hundreds of volumes was likewise laid under contribution during his holidays; and on this rare feast he revelled almost unconscious of the passing weeks. The recital of Cherry Chase brought water into his eyes at three years of age, and he continued to live in a kind of waking dream with the characters which the wand of Shakspeare, of Beaumont and Fletcher, of Tasso, of Ariosto, of Spenser, of Camoens, of Homer, of Sidney, and of Chatterton had summoned into palpable existence from the charmed spirit-world. Southey's school-life was, according to conventional notions, the most unsatisfactory that could well be conceived. He was constantly changing his instructors, who as regularly proved the most incorrigible tyrants a child-poet could meet with. He passed through the hands of a whole half-dozen of masters who were nearly all cruel and hard-hearted. Perhaps the temperament of the youth had been too fine, or his sensibilities too delicate for the tear and wear of a public school. To set down whole six schoolmasters in nearly unbroken succession as harsh and inexorable, is more than a patient biographer can stomach. It must have been a sad age for the Bristol boys, if all was literally true that Southey wrote down in his autobiography regarding their instructors. He had the misfortune to meet an awful dame at the age of six; next he was ground by a cruel Baptist minister named Foot; afterwards he suffered much from a remarkable man named Fowler at Corston; later he fell into the hands of Williams, a sarcastic Welshman; and after passing through the clerical superintendence of Lewis, he entered Westminster School in 1788. Here his fate was not more lucky than before. The irregularity of his school-life, the custom of the schools which he had attended, and the partial incompetence perhaps of his teachers, all combined to render him anything but a dab at Latin verse-making. This was a sufficient drawback to prevent his shining at Westminster. Add to all this, that his satirically jocular paper in the Flagellant, a school-journal, on corporal punishment, brought down upon his head the stupid wrath of Dr Vincent, the superior of the school, and led to his dismissal in 1792. The ill fame of his poor paper in the Flagellant preceded him to Oxford; and on his presenting himself at Christ Church, the virtuous dean, Cyril Jackson, refused to admit him. On the whole, on whose side soever the fault lay, Southey until now had a poor enough time of it. But the light that "néer was seen on land or sea" haunted his dreams; the thirst for fame almost maddened him; and he burned to be of age, that he might by the might of his pen carve his way to renown. His education had been paid for at Westminster by his maternal uncle, Rev. Herbert Hill, and he now entered Balliol College, Oxford, with the ostensible design of entering the church. The French revolution was now casting its fiery glare on all lands, redeemed by the fierceness of political rancour and by the bitter animosity of religious zeal. Freedom, both in action and in thought, was the watchword of the revolutionists; liberty of the most impossible kind, was the cry echoed back to them by the European people. That young Southey, with his eager passions, should be caught in the fervour of this frenzied whirlpool is nothing very strange. The writings of Rousseau were then in every one's mouth; and why should not the more arduous youth of Oxford exercise their logic on his propositions, as well as on those of the academic Stagyrite? Southey exercised his right of free-thinking on all manner of subjects, political, social, religious. Meanwhile he wrote verses by the thousand, and read books by the heap. The church, the state, all offices of society were shut against him, from the wrong-headed violence of his opinions. It was in these circumstances that he formed the grand design, with Coleridge, Lovell, and some others, of establishing a "Pantisocracy" on the banks of the Susquehannah in North America. Laws, selfishness, discord would be unknown words in their patriarchal home beyond the Atlantic. Primeval innocence was to harmonize with all the graceful refinements of European society: the male members of this select community were to till the ground which their joint contributions had purchased, while their wives were to engage their fair hands in the necessary domestic duties. The truth was, that the three dreamers had married three sisters, named Fricker, in the town of Bristol. Cottle, a Bristol publisher, who had just bought Southey's Joan of Arc, written in 1793, for fifty guineas, was let into their secret. The honest bookseller inquired, in trepidation, when they would sail. A laconic epistle from Coleridge dispelled his fears. "My dear sir," wrote the pantisocratist, "can you conveniently lend me five pounds?" Cottle dispatched the money with tears of joy. To such abrupt close came this sublime scheme for the regeneration of humanity, by no means a new phenomenon in the history of the race.

Southey had now quitted Oxford, partly from his religious views, and partly from the withdrawal of his uncle's support. After casting about him for a time, he came pretty soon to the conclusion, that he would be compelled "to performe to enter the muster-roll of authors." He did not repine at his lot, rather secretly rejoiced in it. Mr Hill chancing to be in England at this time induced Southey to accompany him to Lisbon, where he held a chaplaincy. One of the designs of the clerical uncle was accomplished by this journey, for Southey renounced his revolutionary tendencies; but the other, which was to persuade him to enter the church, proved entirely fruitless. After six months' absence he returned to England in May. He had got up material for his *Letters from Spain and Portugal*, and he commenced writing for the *Monthly Magazine*. Meanwhile he wrote epics, tragedies, histories, romances: nothing was deemed too aspiring for his towering ambition. To secure a competence he resolved to study law, and accordingly entered himself at Gray's Inn, on the 7th Feb. 1797. Whether or not he ever had any serious intention of devoting himself to that dry and somewhat severe mistress, he at all events soon deserted her in the most unfeigned disgust. Wynn, his school-fellow at Westminster, nobly offered him an annuity of £160, which he frankly agreed to accept. Southey's reputation was meanwhile increasing with the publishers; he was busily engaged in hammering his *Madoc* into shape, and had already another epic, *Thalaba*, on the anvil.

With all this toil, Southey had as yet made but a slight impression on the public. His views of religion and politics were gradually mellowing; but the novel guise which his poems assumed, his rejection of rhyme in their construction, and his frequent assaults upon all that England had hitherto admired in the poetical art, could be got down only with a considerable effort, even by those who most admired the splendour of his imagination and the beauty of his diction. To say truth, too, there was wanting in his verse the evidence of that "diviner mind" of which Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats had given such illustrious examples. His poetry was certainly often opulent and even gorgeous, but it wanted that nameless something which at once lends a charm to all that a man writes, and lifts him up on the ever-increasing admiration of the world to the very presence of fame. The greatest fertility cannot give it, the most artistic taste in the management of details cannot give it, refined sensibility cannot give it, nothing but the sublime gift of genuine vision, at once creative and natural, simple and human, can make a man a genuine poet, whom men will admire while the world lasts. Southey seems neither to have known this nor to have felt it. He always speaks with the strongest self-confidence, and not unfrequently expresses a much higher opinion of his own claims to immortality, than the great majority of his readers will be inclined to subscribe. "It is not every one," he says, "that can shoot with the bow of Ulysses, and the gentlemen who think they can bend the bow, because I make the string twang, will find themselves somewhat disappointed." His historical powers he likewise rated much too highly. He had not sufficient intensity of consciousness in looking at a fact to see through it, before he handed it up to the imagination to mould and fashion according to her will. As a necessary consequence of this, he was deficient in reflective power. It was entirely beyond his ability to present either a living vital account of a great national movement, or to gather up its discordant elements into a subtle and lofty harmony. His prose was as much below the vigorous though florid pictures of Gibbon, as his poetry was beneath the *Paradise Lost*, to which he unblushingly compared it. He worked with prodigious labour, and towards the end of the year 1799 his health sank under the incessant energy of his brain. Portugal was again tried in 1800, and with the best effects. Taking up his abode at Cintra, he commenced busily to collect materials for a *History of Portugal*. He returned to England with some reluctance in the summer of the following year. Coleridge, who then occupied Greta Hall, near Keswick, wrote to Southey a glowing description of the place, which so attracted his fancy, that he ultimately settled in that charming spot. Before doing so, he paid a visit to his old friend Wynn in North Wales, where he found a letter awaiting him, offering him the situation of secretary to the chancellor of the exchequer for Ireland, with a salary of £350 a year. The chancellor would have Southey teach his son, to fill up his spare time, but the author of *Thalaba* indignantly refused, and threw up "a foolish office and a good salary," after he had held it for six months. Henceforward he clung close to the pen to the end of his life. Between writing and projecting works and review articles, his time was wholly taken up. He edited an edition of Chatterton's works, in 3 vols., for the poet's sister, who was in great poverty, and had the gratification of handing over to her the sum of £300, the proceeds of his industry. This was only one of a thousand of his generous acts performed to the needy and the distressed. He aided the lamented Kirke White, James Dunsayto and Herbert Knowles, and was of much service to Ebenezer Elliot in his early attempts to woo the Muse.

Gradually Southey became stationary at Keswick, by the sheer weight of his vast and ever-accumulating library. Unlike the Delos of ancient fable, and the floating island of modern fact in the adjoining Lake of Derwentwater, here he was rooted firm and fast to his moorings, by a cable which time and its chances could not sever. With the exception of occasional excursions to London or the continent, generally with a party of friends, he now settled down with great good-will to his books and to his pen. Writing to a friend about this time he said—"My actions are as regular as St Dunstan's quarter-boys. Three pages of history after breakfast (equivalent to five in small quarto-printing); then to transcribe and copy for the press, or to make my selections and biographies, or what else suits my humour, till dinner-time; from dinner to tea I read, write letters, see the newspapers, and very often indulge in a siesta. After tea I go to poetry, and correct, and re-write, and copy till I am tired, and then turn to anything else till supper. And this is my life, which if it be not a very merry one, is yet as happy as heart could wish." And so he continued almost until the grave received him, toiling, and cheerful until the end. In conjunction with his friend Emlynse, he visited Scotland, and Sir Walter Scott in 1805. The great novelist received him very warmly, as was his wont, and subsequently wrote to him, in 1807, to secure his talents for the *Edinburgh Review*, to which he himself occasionally contributed. But Southey, who in his youth was the most radical reformer in England, had now crystallized into one of the most rigid conservatives, did not relish the free manner in which the Edinburgh reviewers treated all manner of subjects that came within their reach; and he was particularly galled by the very liberal criticism which Jeffrey had made on his *Madoc* and *Thalaba*. He therefore begged to be excused from entrusting the treasures of his mind to such rash piloting. A more congenial field for his occasional employment presented itself shortly afterwards in the *Quarterly Review*. The editor, Gifford, frequently made rough work of his fine periods and moonshiny opinions, but this slashing mutilation was entirely owing (so Southey was pleased to think) to the ignorance or ill-will of the unscrupulous mentor. The Grenville ministry in 1807 gave him a pension of £200, but it was so reduced with taxes that it amounted only, when it came to the poet's hands, to £144. In 1808 he engaged to write the history of Spanish affairs for the *Annual Register*, published by Bannatyne in Edinburgh, and next year he was asked to take up the historical department generally, with an allowance of £400 a-year. But the affairs of Bannatyne did not admit of its continuation; and after a two years' engagement, the publication became defunct. Southey contributed no less than 126 articles to this periodical during his life. The laureateship having fallen vacant by the death of Pye in 1813, at the instigation of Sir Walter Scott, it was offered to Southey. He became enrolled, at the close of the war, in the general agitation of which English society was then the theatre. He used all his endeavours to check the riotous proceedings of the enraged mobs, and a portion of society taunted him with the epithet of "renegade." and actually published his *Wat Tyler*, an inflammatory production of his hot youth. The gust blew over, and peace came; and as a solatium to Southey, he had conferred upon him the honorary degree of LL.D. by the University of Oxford in 1820. This was mainly gained for him by his *Book of the Church*. His *Roderick, the last of the Goths*, was received with favour on the continent. It was partly translated into Dutch by Mrs Bilderdijk, whom Southey visited in the summer of 1825. During his absence he had, through the influence of Lord Radnor, been elected parliamentary representative of Downton, but the property qualification did not permit of his accepting it. In 1829, by the marriage of Miss Coleridge, she and her mother left Southey's roof, where they had found shelter for six-and-twenty years. In 1834, the poet received £300 a year from government, on the recommendation of Sir Robert Peel. That eminent statesman had previously failed in his endeavour to have Southey made a baronet, by reason of the smallness of his income. His books only gained a very tardy sale, and he was at times careless of his resources, in increasing his already vast library. He lost the companion of his life on the 16th November 1837. She had for some years previous to her death been labouring under mental derangement. This was probably attributable to the mental anxiety to which she had been exposed. The grave had not well closed over her, when mental prostration overcame the poet himself. His memory failed, his recognition of time and place gave way, and the strongest symptoms of mental alienation manifested themselves. He travelled in Normandy and Brittany, he married Caroline Bowles the poetess, he wandered about in the most helpless condition, and gradually becoming weaker and weaker, he died on the 21st March 1843. Southey rests, with his beloved Edith Fricker, in the quiet little churchyard of Crosthwaite, adjoining the town of Keswick.

Since Southey's death there have been published by Warter in 1856, 4 volumes of his common-place books, &c., and 4 volumes of his letters. His life has been written by his son, the Rev. Charles Cuthbert Southey, in 6 vols., 1849–50. The following is supposed to be a tolerably complete list of Dr Southey's works, condensed from the *English Cyclopaedia*:

- Poems, in conjunction with his friend Lovell, 1 vol. 8vo, in 1794. - *Jona of Art, or an Epic Poem*, 4to, 1795. - *Minor Poems*, 2 vols. 8vo, 1797. - *Letters written during a short residence in Spain and Portugal*, 1 vol. 8vo, 1799 and 1800. - *The Annual Anthology*, 2 vols. 8vo. - *Thalaba the Destroyer*, a Metrical Romance, 2 vols. 12mo, 1801. - *Amadis de Gaul*, a prose translation from the Spanish version, by García Ordoñez de Montalvo, 4 vols. 12mo, 1803. - The works of Thomas Chatterton (in conjunction with Amos Cottle), 3 vols. 8vo, 1803. - *Metrical Tales and other Poems*, 8vo, 1805. - *Madoc*, a Poem, in two parts, 4to. - *Specimens of the Latter English Poets*, with Preliminary Notices, 3 vols. 8vo, 1807. - *Palmerin of England*, translated from the Portuguese, 4 vols. 8vo. - *Letters from England*, by Don Manuel Velasquez Esquivel (pseudonymously), 3 vols. 12mo. - *Remains of Henry Kirke White*, with an Account of his Life, 2 vols. 8vo. - *The Chronicle of the City Reader*, David de Bilo, translated from the Spanish, 1808. - *The Curse of Kithama*, a Poem, 4to. - *The History of Brazil*, vol. I, 4to, 1810. - *Guianiana*, 2 vols. 8vo, 1812. - *Life of Nelson*, 2 vols. 8vo, 1813. - *Carmen Triumphale for the commencement of the year 1814*, and *Carmen Antica*, 1 vol. 4to; *Roderick, the last of the Goths*, 4to, 1814. - *Minor Poems*, 3 vols., 1815. - *The Lay of the Last Minstrel*, 12mo; *A Poet's Pilgrimage to Waterloo*, 8vo; *Specimens of lesser British Poets*, 1816. - *Wat Tyler*, a Dramatic Poem (written in a vein of ultra-Jacobinism, in 1794, and now surreptitiously published), 12mo; *A Letter to William Smith, Esq.*, M.P. (on the subject of the preceding publication), 8vo; *Morte d'Arthur* (a reprint of Sir Thomas Malory's prose romance, with an Introduction and Notes), 2 vols. 8vo; *Brazil*, vol. II, 4to, 1817; and vol. III., 4to, 1819. - *Life of John Wesley*, 2 vols. 8vo, 1820. - *A Vision of Judgment*, a Poem, 4to; *The Expedition of Ossian*, and the *Crimes of Aguirre*, 12mo, 1821. - *Remains of Henry Kirke White*, vol. III., 8vo, 1822. - *History of the Peninsular War*, vol. I., 4to (an expansion of what had been originally published in the Edinburgh Annual Register, 1810, &c.) - *Southport*, 2 vols. 8vo, 1824. - *A Tale of Paraguay* (a Poem), 12mo, 1825. - *Vindiciae Ecclesiae Anglicanae*, 8vo, 1826. - *Sozomenus History of the Peninsular War*, vol. II., 4to, 1827. - *Sir Thomas More, or Colloquies on the Progress and Prospects of Society*, &c., 2 vols. 8vo; *All for Love, or the Sinner Well Saved*, and *The Pilgrim to Compostella, or A Legend of a Cock and a Hen*, 12mo, 1829. - *Life of John Bunyan*, prefixed to an edition of the *Pilgrim's Progress*, 1830. - *Introduction to the Works of John Milton*, an Introductory Essay on the Lives and Works of our Undeceived Poet, Selections from the Poems of Robert Southey, Esq., LL.D., 12mo; *Select Works of British Poets*, from Chaucer to Johnson, edited with Biographical Notices, 1 vol. royal 8vo, 1831. - *Essays Moral and Political*, 2 vols. 8vo; *Selections from Southey*, 12mo; *History of the Peninsular War*, vol. III., 4to, 1832. - *Naval History of England*, vol. I., 12mo (In Lardner's Cabinet Cyclopaedia), completed in 5 vols., 1840. - *De Watt's Poems, with a Life of the Author* (in Cattermole's Sacred Classics), 12mo, 1834. - *The Doctor* (anonymous), vols. I. and II., 8vo, 1834; vol. III., 8vo, 1835; vols. IV. and V., 8vo, 1837. - *The Works of William Cowper*, with a Life of the Author, vol. I., 12mo, completed in 15 vols. in 1837 and 1838. - *The Poetical Works of Robert Southey*, collected by himself, 10 vols. 12mo, 1837; to which may be added the eight volumes of *Letters*, &c., published by Warter since his death.