Nor could that soul, though high its lot had been, An atmosphere wherein the mind could sway Her sculptur'd wreck, and mountain's roseate view, Those shading doubts a Providence dispell'd; The Land was reach'd; and, oh! too fondly known He liv'd; he died; in life and death the same, * "I am much amused with the preparation I see making for furnishing me with household stuff, such as tablecloths, sheets, &c.; it is surely a luxurious age when a boy of seventeen requires so much fuss to fit him out.-Sat de nugis, ad seria reverto. My studies go on as usual. Machiavel I rather admire more than at first. My Greek studies will be soon, I fear, gravelled, if I continue at home; my brother particularly recommends me to attend to the public lectures on astronomy and mathematics at Oxford, as he says they are at present very clever."-Life, by Mrs. Heber, vol. I. p. 22-23. + "Notwithstanding the miseries of Fellowships on which you descant, I should like very well to have one. I cannot indeed conceive how an excellent society, good rooms, and the finest situation for study in the world, can have that effect in benumbing the faculties which you ascribe to it. There will, no doubt, be many illiberal men in these sort of societies; but I fear those men would have been still less gentlemen than they are at present, had it not been for the advantages of a college society. I was much entertained, my dear friend, with the account you gave of time-passing at Cambridge. The beef of yesterday is succeeded by the mutton of to-day,' are your words, when you show me the manner in which the Cantabs pass their time. You, indeed, who are clothed in purple, and fare sumptuously every day at the Fellow's table, would have more reason to reckon by meals than I should; for the dinners we get here, at least the commoners, (for the gentlemen commoners have a table to themselves, and fare very well,) are the most beastly things that ever graced the table of a poor-house, or house of correction. (ohe!) I write this letter in a very ill-humour at some circumstances I happen to be engaged in, which are as follows: It is thought expedient, that, as I principally feel myself deficient in mathematics, I should stay in Oxford during this next vacation, in order to go through a course of lectures with the mathematical professor. This is certainly very much for a man's interest, but it will be very dull, I fear, as few Brasen Nose men, with whom I am acquainted, will stay. If you could contrive to take the opportunity of this vacation at once to see Oxford, and make an old school-fellow perfectly happy by your company for a day or two, I need not say how glad I should be. If you conveniently can, pray do come. Per hoc inane purpurae dccus precor. "I have fagged pretty hard since I have been here on a perfectly different plan, however, from my Neadson studies. I was very closely engaged last week with a copy of verses, as you will believe, when I tell you that I had literally no time to shave, insomuch that my beard was as long and hoary as that of the celebrated bearded king. I succeeded tolerably well in my verses, and had to read them in the hall, the most nervous ceremony I ever went through. " I agree with you on the subject of the fabled academical leisure. We are at Cambridge and Oxford, in the economy of time, perfect Cartesian; we admit of no vacuum. I have been through my Cheshire connections, and, through the long residence of my brother, introduced to a great many people, and this has, of course, produced very numerous parties; but I assure you, I shall preserve my character for sobriety: no man is obliged to drink more than he pleases, nor have I seen any of that spirit of playing tricks on freshmen, which we are told were usual forty or fifty years ago at the universities.-Vale; si possis veni. You seem not much to like the concerts at Cambridge; I very much approve of ours here, both as it is a rational scholarlike amusement, and as it affords a retreat, if necessary, from the bottle.”—Life, vol. 1. p. 26-28. Heber's first university distinction was the prize for Latin verse, gained by his "Carmen Seculare." This was followed, in 1803, by Palestine," to which the following notices interestingly refer: "I know not whether I told you in my last it is a sort of prize extraordinary for English verses-the subject, Palestine. I was not aware till yesterday that the same subject had been some time since given for the Seatonian prize. I think it, on the whole, a fine one, as it will admit of much fancy, and many sublime ideas. I know not whether it ought to have been made exclusively sacred or not. Many men, whom I have talked with, seem inclined to have made it so; but I have an utter dislike to clothing sacred subjects in verse, unless it be done as nearly as possible in scriptural language, and introduced with great delicacy. I could not, however, refrain from mentioning, and rather enlarging on the Messiah and the last triumphs of Judæa. The historical facts of scripture, I, of course, made great use of, as well as of the crusades, siege of Acre, and other pieces of modern story. My brother, my tutor, and Mr. Walter Scott, the author of the Border Minstrels,' whom I have no doubt you know by name, if not personally, give me strong hopes; and I am, on the other hand, I hope, pretty well prepared for a disappointment whether the event be favourable or otherwise, I shall know in about two days, and will not fail to communicate my victory or defeat." Life, vol. I. pp. 29, 30. "In the course of its composition, Sir Walter Scott happened to breakfast with him one morning, together with his brother and one or two friends, previous to their joining a party of pleasure to Blenheim; Palestine became the subject of conversation, and the poem was produced and read. Sir Walter, to whom the editor is indebted for the anecdote, said, "You have omitted one striking circumstance in your account of the building of the temple, that no tools were used in its erection. Reginald retired from the breakfast-table to a corner of the room, and before the party separated, produced the beautiful lines which now form a part of the poem, and which were at a subsequent period, and alas! on a far different occasion, quoted by Sir Charles Edward Grey, as illustrative of the manner in which he trusted the church of Asia would arise, and in which the friend he then mourned was so admirably qualified to hasten its growth. On mounting the rostrum to recite his poem, Reginald Heber was struck by seeing two young ladies of Jewish extraction sitting in a conspicuous part of the theatre. The recollection of some lines which reflect severely on their nation, flashed across his mind, and he determined to spare their feelings by softening the passage, which he feared would give them pain, as he proceeded; but it was impossible to communicate this intention to his brother, who was sitting behind him as prompter, and who, in the attempt being made, immediately checked him, so that he was forced to recite the lines as they were originally written. "—Life, pp. 30, 31. An eloquent article on Heber's Hymns in Blackwood's Magazine, and, from the beautiful diction that pervades it, apparently written by Wilson, contains an affecting allusion to the recitation of Palestine. None, who heard Reginald Heber recite his Palestine in that magnificent theatre, will ever forget his appearance, so interesting and impressive. It was known that his old father was somewhere sitting among the crowded audience, when his universally admired son ascended the rostrum ; and we have heard that the sudden thunder of applause that then rose so shook his frame, weak and wasted by long illness, that he never recovered it, and may be said to have died of the joy dearest to a parent's heart. Reginald Heber's recitation, like that of all poets we have heard recite, was altogether untrammelled by the critical laws of elocution, which were not set at defiance, but either by the poet unknown, or forgotten; and there was a charm in his somewhat melancholy voice, that occasionally faltered, less from a feeling of solemnity, and even grandeur of the scene of which he was himself the conspicuous object, though that feeling did suffuse his pale and ingenuous countenance, than from the deeply-felt sanctity of his subject, comprehending the most awful mysteries of God's revelations to man.” 66 S" When Reginald Heber returned from the theatre, surrounded by his friends, with every hand stretched out to congratulate, and every voice raised to praise him, he withdrew from the circle; and his mother, who, impatient of his absence, went to look for him, found him in his room on his knees, giving thanks to God, not so much for the talents which had, on that day, raised him to honour, but that those talents had enabled him to bestow unmixed happiness on his parents."-Life, vol. 1. p. 33. The following sketch of Heber, by a contemporary, while residing in the university, after his poetical triumph, will be read with deep interest :-- "At a time, when the enthusiasm of the place I had rather caught by heart than learnt Palestine, and when it was a privilege of any one of any age to know Heber, I had the delight of forming his acquaintance. I cannot forget the feeling of admiration with which, in the autumn of *Ob, lives there one who mocks his artless zeal! manner. 1803, I approached his presence, or the surprise with which I contrasted my abstract image of him with his own simple, social, every-day He talked and laughed like those around him, aud entered into the pleasures of the day with them, and with their relish ; but when any higher subject was introduced, (and he was never slow to introduce literature, at least, and to draw from his exhaustless memory riches of every kind,) his manuer became his own. He never looked up at his hearers, but with his eyes downcast and fixed, poured forth, in a measured intonation, which from him became fashionable, stores of every age; the old romances; Spencer; some of our early prose writers; of Scott's published works; or verses of his own. I speak not of one day only, but of my general recollection of his habits as after that day witnessed often. Even at this time, however, he was a very severe student, and made up in hard reading at night, the time given to society and lighter pursuits in the evening."-Life, pp. 345–348. TO ASICHE. I strive, yet still I feel 'tis vain, And thou wilt ever be too dear. J. K. L. |