a century without one single claim on the gratitude of his country, or the respect of posterity!" The times have indeed changed since flattery of so gross and outrageous a nature as drew forth this reproof could with impunity be poured forth as incense to the great, and be suffered to pass unnoticed and unchallenged by a multitude whose ears were, unfortunately, too well attuned to such revolting displays of sycophancy. Leigh Hunt's manly and spirited attack "did good" in more senses than one. He was undoubtedly the pioneer of a better and more wholesome state of things. Men known to him by name only, as well as tried and true friends, rallied round him, spoke up boldly in his defence, and not in his defence only, but in hearty admiration of his fearless outspokenness. And here appears the bright side of his prison experiences; they resulted in the formation of many valued and lifelong intimacies between himself and those who were enabled to throw aside convention and range themselves on his side. But there was also to be endured the heaviness of a first separation from his wife and little children, and Leigh Hunt was the man of all others to feel this keenly and bitterly. This little letter to his boy, which I find in my collection, shows us, I think, another side of his character when compared with the stinging Examiner diatribe which brought so much trouble on his head. "Surrey Jail: May 17, 1813. "MY DEAR, GOOD LITTLE THORNTON, — I am quite glad to hear of your getting so much better. Try not to cry when you go into the warm bath; for it would not be a 'horrid warm bath' if you knew all the good it did you it would be a nice, comfortable warm bath. Your dear papa likes a warm bath very much. I am much obliged to you for the marbles; mama will give you a kiss from me for them, and you must give a kiss to mama for papa. Your little sunflower grows very nicely, and has got six leaves, four of them large ones. "Your affectionate papa, "LEIGH HUNT." Another to his wife breathes the same spirit of fond affection: "Surrey Jail: May, 1813. "MY DEAREST Love, You may well imagine how your letter of yesterday relieved me, and what additional pleasure I received from the one of to-day. Your sorrow at having sent the former one delights while it pains me; but I knew you would feel as you do, and long to fold you in my arms to comfort you in return. I am glad Thornton bears his bathing so well. I am afraid that I did indeed omit to ask about his riding, but by the next post I hope to be able to send you the result of another application to Dr. Gooch, whom I have not yet seen. Pray take care of yourself, for if I only fancy you are getting these fits of illness upon you, with your head tumbling about the hard back of the chair and my arm not near to support it, I shall long to dash myself through the walls of my prison, though pretty well used to them by this time. "I am rather better myself this afternoon, though I have a good deal of fever hanging about me, with a strange, full sensation in my head that seems as if it arose from deafness, though I hear as well as ever; it is, I believe, the remains of rheumatism, and I should not care a pin for all the bodily pain I feel if my spirits were not affected at the same time. But still, I am more capable of being amused than I was formerly; a little continuation of fine weather brings me about surprisingly, and by the time these strange vicissitudes of sky have gone past, and you and the summer come back again, I hope to be myself once more. "Kiss my dear boys for me, and thank Thornton for his marbles. But you made me another present of the value of which I have been sleepyou were not aware. ing with a piece of flannel about my neck for some nights, after having my throat rubbed with hartshorn oil and laudanum, and last night I substituted the wadding, ble. I need not say with what additional comfort I laid my cheek upon it, coming from you." which was smoother and more comforta But the loss of liberty and freedom began to tell upon his health. He had every were taken for the relaxation of many of the prison regulations hitherto relentlessly enforced; and finally, as the result of a letter written by Leigh Hunt to the governor of the prison, and which was probably perused (as it was intended to be) by other eyes than his, a very decided improvement for the better in their condition set in. The author's wife and children were allowed to live with him, in consideration of the delicate state of his health and the palpitations of his heart to which he was occasionally subject; and his urgent request that his friends, hitherto rigorously excluded, should be permitted to have access to him during the daytime was at length acceded to. opportunity for writing, and doubtless gave | possible to disregard its voice. Steps himself up too exclusively to his one resource, which was also to be pursued with all the more earnestness on account of the necessity for providing for those dear though, alas! not near to him. The constant strain of brain work, without the recreation and exercise necessary to fortify his frame to support it, could not fail to shake his rather fragile constitution. The following extract from a diary kept by him at this period is worth quoting:"Poetry," he writes, "is trying work if your heart and spirits are in it, particularly with a weak body. The concentration of your faculties, and the necessity and ambition you feel to extract all the essential heat of your thoughts, seem to make up that powerful and exhausting effect called An era of brighter days now began. An inspiration. The ability to sustain this, extra room or two was to be had (for payas well as all other exercises of the spirit, ment) in the prison, and the small preparawill evidently depend in some measure tions for the reception of his dear ones are upon the state of your frame; so that from time to time referred to in the family Dryden does not appear to have been alto- letters. A gay wall paper was provided gether so fantastical in dieting himself (of roses climbing over a trellis !- one for a task of verse; nor Milton, and can imagine some of our latter-day æsothers, in thinking their faculties stronger thetes fainting with horror at that which at particular periods; though the former, afforded so much pleasure); some bookperhaps, might have rendered his caution shelves were put up and filled with familiar unnecessary by undeviating temperance, guests; and when loving hands busied and the latter have referred to the sunshine themselves with putting finishing touches of summer, or the indoor snugness of to the whole, the gloomy quarters seemed frosty weather, what they chose to attrib-exchanged for something like a substitute ute to a lofty influence." for the home for which the prisoner had been pining. There was a tiny yard, too, outside this room, which was also considered his "a vegetable and flower garden," he calls it, in compliment to a fine scarlet-runner he had planted, which did its best to enliven the little domain by flinging its bright red blossoms over the wall of lattice-work that divided it from the neighboring yard. "Here," he says, "I shut my eyes in my armchair, and affect to think myself hundreds of miles away." But while suffering keenly from the restrictions to which his genial nature rendered him peculiarly susceptible, his courage and the faith in his convictions appear to have remained unshaken. He was put to the test. An intimation was conveyed to him, and also to his brother John, who was undergoing imprisonment elsewhere, that if they were willing to abstain in future from any comments on the sayings and doings of his Royal Highness, the government would take measures to spare them both the fine and the impris- Leigh Hunt's eldest daughter was born onment. These overtures were promptly in prison. "Never shall I forget my 66 declined. Without mutual consultation sensations when she came into the world the brothers emphatically refused to give. . . a thousand recollections rise within any promises on the subject whatsoever. So strong was the public feeling excited by the severe measures taken against John and Leigh Hunt that it became almost im me such as I cannot trust myself to dwell upon," are the words in which he afterwards alludes to her advent. Some have talked of the "improvidence" of Leigh Hunt, and he himself pathetically laments his incapacity for computation in moneymatters. "I had not then learned to think about money," he remarks regretfully, in recording the trifling cost of the decoration of his prison home. Poor poet! did he in truth ever master that dreary lesson, so hard for the man who lives in a world of dreams and fancies, to acquire ? Carlyle, some of whose letters to Hunt I have, and shall presently quote, refers ill-naturedly to his weakness on this score, to their mutual friends. One is struck by the meanness of his insinuations against the friend whom face to face he delighted to honor; they compare oddly with the many expressions of regard to be found in his letters. It is a pity, and perhaps somewhat unfair, that the finer traits in the character of great men should serve to bring out in stronger relief their petti nesses. To my mind the pretty and courteous language of the great novelist speaks for itself. Who would willingly believe that the writer would wantonly hold up to public ridicule the friend for whom he appears to have had so sincere a regard? That Hunt felt the pinch of poverty, and felt it very severely, cannot be denied. With an increasing family to support by the uncertain labors of the pen, and with health very far from robust, it was not extraordinary that his two years' confinement in prison, together with the enforcement of so heavy a fine (the fine was in reality 1,000l.; of which, I believe, his brother John was to pay half), should have so crippled his resources that the struggle to provide for the wants of wife and children was at times cruelly severe. But I cannot forbear quoting a few lines written by him to Trelawny which lie before me, and which I think of interest because they indicate that there was a time when he could afford to refuse, and did refuse in terms of gratitude, pecuniary assistance. I have heard it asserted, too, by those who delight in such "discoveries," that Charles Dickens's creation of Harold Skimpole owed its origin to his intimacy I am entirely in ignorance of the circumwith Leigh Hunt. stances, but I give the scrap, which reads Among my letters are many from Dick-pleasantly enough. It is dated July 14, ens to Hunt. I transcribe a specimen which indicates an appreciation of the poet hardly compatible with this theory. Let the reader judge for himself: "48 Doughty Street: Friday evening. "MY DEAR SIR, — Here is the unhappy parcel which, after being safely booked and entered in my own mind as gone, has been lying on my table in the dust of 14 days. It contains the first four numbers of my new work, a portion of Oliver Twist (which you will find in two Miscellany volumes) and an American edition of Pickwick, which is curious from the singular vileness of the illustrations. "Do me the favor to read Oliver and Nickleby first; of the latter work I have directed the publishers to send you all future numbers regularly; and of the former, I will send you more anon, if it interests you an old stager sufficiently. "You are an old stager in works, but a young one in faith-faith in all beautiful and excellent things. If you can only find it in that green heart of yours to tell me one of these days, that you have met, in wading through the accompanying trifles, with anything that felt like a vibration of the old chord you have touched so often and sounded so well, you will confer the truest gratification on your faithful friend, CHARLES DICKENS. "Leigh Hunt, Esq., etc., etc." 1823: "MY DEAR TRELAWNY, Thanks, many thanks, for your kind offer, which Mary was too good-natured to conceal from me. But I cannot accept it. No, I will take money where I feel it is in jus tice due to me, but I will not take it from a generous man who has already but too little to spare. You will therefore not think of sending it from Leghorn, as it will only put me to the trouble of sending it you back again to Greece, and deprive you of so much ready money the longer. 66 Again, however, and again I thank you for the refreshment you have afforded my heart; you have done me a real service at all events. God bless you. "Your affectionate friend, "LEIGH HUNT." I find yet another extract which may offer a wholesome hint to many a "man of business" (which our poet, alas for his own interests! was certainly not). It is addressed to a house agent at Beckenham in Kent, and refers to a cottage in that district in which Hunt and his wife began their married life. The little house is found to be too damp and badly built for occupation, and the young couple are compelled, at considerable strain upon their slender purse, to abandon it for healthier quarters. The note begins with instructions for the removal of books, the payment of bills, etc., and concludes in these words: "As to the cottage itself, Mr. H. can by no means reconcile it to his conscience to let it during the winter. If any one should be inclined to take it for the summer, which is not likely consider ing it is unfurnished and out of the road of coaches, well and good; but it is no more fit to stand rain and wind than a box of paper; and at such a time Mr. H. would rather keep it at the expense of his purse, than let it at the expense of his decency." With regard to Hunt's intercourse with Carlyle after they became near neighbors at Chelsea, we find in Mrs. Carlyle's letters some apprehension expressed lest the intimacy which existed between the two families might become irksome. Carlyle himself, however, complains later on (Froude's Reminiscences) that Hunt comes very seldom, "for some reasons known to himself; " and to judge by the numberless little notes from Carlyle which are before me, scribbled in ink or pencil on scraps of paper of every conceivable size and shape, he would appear to have appreciated the poet's companionship. Here are a few samples. "Do you go to Baron -? If you go, I go; if not, not. My only condition is that we set off soon. There is tea here 5 minutes hence if you will come over. T. C." "We are at home to-morrow and shall be right glad to see your face again. Ah me! had all the world such a conscience as Leigh Hunt! — T. C." 18 Carlton Street, Stockbridge, Edinburgh: 28th Feby., 1833. - "MY DEAR SIR, Last night, after tea, a Bookseller's Porter came in, with two Parcels; in one of which we found your two books and your letter; both of which kind presents awakened the gratefullest feelings here. As for your letter, written with such trustfulness, such patient, affectionate Hope, Faith, and Charity, I must report truly that it filled the heart,-in one of our cases even to overflowing by the eyes. We will not dwell on this side of it. Let me rejoice rather that I do see, on such terms, such a volume as yours. The free outpouring of one of the most purely musical natures now extant in our Earth; that can still be musical, melodious even in these harsh-jawing days; and out of all Discords and Distresses, extract Harmony and a mild Hope and Joy: this is what I call Poetical, if the word have any meaning. "Most of these Pieces are known to me of old; you may be sure, in their collected shape, I shall carefully prize them, and reperuse them, for their own sake and yours. "It was not till I had read your letter a second or even third time, that I found the date of it to be the 2nd of December! Where, whether at Moxon's or at Longman's, the Parcel may have lain hid these three months, can only be conjectured: I had determined, in any case, to write by return of post; and now, on that vexatious discovery, had almost snatched my pen, to write before I went to sleep; as if that "Arthur Coningsby's Father and Moth-could have got you a word a little sooner. er are expected here to tea with us to-morrow: also the mathematical Mrs. Somerville and perhaps John Mill all of them well affected towards you, and good people as people go. "Will you come, and do us all a real kindness? Say 'yezzir,' or better still (for I am quite idle and solitary) come over straightway, and say it with the lips. "Here is Kean again, with many thanks. Yours always, T. C." Besides these and many other fragments, I have long letters from Carlyle to Hunt which have never yet found their way into print, some of which I quote in full. Carlyle must have been an inveterate correspondent. How, one is tempted to ask, did these busy literary people find time to cover such reams of letter-paper in the pleasant interchange of book and other gossip? The letter given below, even in Carlyle's tiny, clear handwriting, covers several pages. It is very provoking; and to me at the moment doubly so, for a cheerful illusion was dispelled by it. “Alas, then, it is too likely that sorrowful Paragraph we read in the Newspapers was true; and the modest hopes your letter was to impart to me were all misgone before its arrival! Would I could help you. Tell me at least without delay, how it stands, that we may know, if not what to do, at least what to wish. Mean. while I again preach to you: Hope! "Man,' says a German friend of mine whom I often quote, 'is, properly speaking, founded upon Hope; this world where he lives is called the Place of Hope.' "Time and chance, it is written, happen unto all men. Your good children, now like frail young plants, your chief care and difficulty, will one day stand a strong hedge around you, when the Father's hand is grown weary, and can no longer toil. Neither will the sympathy of kind bearts, so far as that can profit, ever fail you. "I too am poor, am sick; and, in these wondrous, chaotic times, dispirited; for moments, nigh bewildered. Let us study to hold fast and true even unto the death; and ever among the Sahara sands of this 'wilderness journey,' to look up towards loadstars in the blue, still Heavens! We were not made to be the sport of a Devil, or Devil's servants; my Belief is that a GOD made us, and mysteriously dwells in us. 66 However, let us now turn over to a more terrestrial leaf, and talk of this journey to Craigenputtoch, which we here cannot consent to abandon. It is not a piece of empty civility, it is a firm, scientific conviction on my wife's part and mine, that you would both get and give true pleasure in our Nithsdale Hermitage. She says emphatically, I must press you to come. You shall have her Pony to ride; she will nourish you with milk new from the Galloway cow; will, &c., &c. In sober prose, I am persuaded it would do us all good. You shall have the quietest of rooms, the firmest of writing-desks: no soul looks near us more than if we were in Patmos : our day's work done, you and I will climb hills together, or saunter on everlasting moors, now cheerful with speech; at night the Dame will give us music; one day will be as peaceable and diligent as another. Why cannot you come? The way thither, and back again, is the simplest. You embark at your Tower Wharf in a Leith ship (smack, it is called), where under really handsome naval accommodation, sailing along shores which grow ever the finer, and from Flamborough Head onward can be called beautiful, you land at Leith, say after a voyage of four days, the whole charge Two pounds sterling. An omnibus takes you to the inn-door, whence that very night, if you like, a coach starts for Dumfries; and seventy miles of quick driving brings you safe into my old Gig, which in two hours more lands you at Craigenputtoch house door; and you enter safe and toto divisus orbe into the oasis of the Whinstone Wilderness. Or there is another shorter daylight way of getting at us from Edinburgh; which a letter of mine could be lying here to describe and appoint for you. Will nothing be temptation enough? Nay, we are still to be here till the first week of April; could lodge you in this hired floor of ours, show you Edinburgh, and take you home with us ourselves. You must really think of this. Mrs. Hunt, for your sake, will consent to make no objection. Your writing work, one might hope, would proceed not the slower, but the faster. You see two friends; innumerable stranger Fellow-men, and lay in a large stock of impressions that will be new, whatever else they be. "As for the projected Book-parcel, fear not to overburthen me with Books: at home, I am quite ravenous for these. Fraser (Magazine Fraser) the Bookseller of Regent Street will take charge of anything for me, and have it forwarded; at the utmost for five-pence per pound. Or perhaps your better way (if the Colburns are punctual people) were to direct any Parcel simply to the care of Messrs. Bell and Bradfute, Edinburgh,' (with whom they infallibly communicate every Magazine-day), by whom, also at the lowest rate, such as themselves pay, it will be carefully forwarded. "My Paper is nigh done; yet I have told you little or nothing of our news. The truth is happily there is almost none to tell. Mrs. Carlyle is still sickly, yet better than when you saw her; and rather seems to enjoy herself here, almost within sight of her birthplace. For me I read Books and scribble for better for worse. We left home some two months ago, once more to look at men a little. The style of thought and practice here yields me but little edification; as indeed any extant style thereof does not yield one much. I too have some of your old same-faced Friends;' and rummage much in the Libraries here, searching after more. A thing on 'Diderot' of my writing will be out by and by in the F. Q. Review. "This sheet comes to you under cover to the Lord Advocate. If he calls on you some day with a card of mine, you will give him welcome. He is a most kindly, sparkling, even poetic man; with a natu ral drawing towards all that is good and generous. Fortune has made strange work with him; 'not a Scottish Goldoni, but a whig Politician, Edinburgh Reviewer, and Lord Advocate:' the change, I doubt, has not been a happy one. "And now, my dear Sir, good-night from both of us, and peace and patient endeavor be with you and yours! We shall often think of you. Write soon, as I have charged you. "Ever faithfully, "T. CARLYLE." It does not appear that any of these "short and easy routes" (of six days' |
