The Life and Correspondence of Robert Southey
Robert Southey to Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 3 October 1799
“Bonaparte was
remarkably studious, and mathematics his particular study. He associated
little, or not at all, with the other officers, and in company was reserved and
silent. This is Mrs. Keenan’s
account, to whom I looked up with more respect because the light of his
countenance had shone upon her. Banfill
tells me that the mathematical tutor of Bonaparte is in
Exeter—an emigrant. He says that he was an excellent
mathematician—in the military branch chiefly—and that he was always
the great man, always the first, always Bonaparte. . . . .
“Jackson has
taste to a certain extent. . . . . His music I take for granted: his pictures
are always well conceived, the creations of a man of genius; but he cannot
execute; his trees are like the rustic work in a porter’s lodge, sea-weed
landscapes, cavern drippings chiselled into ramifications—cold, cramp, stiff,
stony. I thank him for his ‘Four Ages.’ A man with a name may publish such a book; but
when a book is merely a lounging collection of scraps, the common-place book
printed, one wishes it to hold more than half an hour’s turning over, a
little turtle soup and a little pine-apple; but one wants a huge basin of broth
and plenty of filberts. . . . . I soon talked of Bampfylde*, and Jackson rose in my
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| Ætat. 25. | OF ROBERT SOUTHEY. | 27 |
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esteem, for he talked of him till I saw the tears. I have
copied one ode, in imitation of Gray’s Alcaic, and nineteen sonnets. After I had done,
Jackson required a promise that I would communicate no
copy, as he was going to publish them. He read me the preface; it will tell you
what a miraculous musician Bampfylde was, and that he died
insane; but it will not tell you Bampfylde’s
history.
“His wish was to live in solitude and write a play.
From his former lodging near Chudley, often would he come to town in winter
before Jackson was up—and
Jackson is an early riser—ungloved,
open-breasted, with a pocket-full of music, and poems, to know how he liked
them. His friends—plague on the word—his relations, I mean, thought
this was a sad life for a man of family, so they drove him to London.
‘Poor fellow!’ said Jackson,
‘there did not live a purer creature; and if they would have let
him alone, he might have been alive now. In London his feelings took a
wrong course, and he paid the price of debauchery.’
“His sixteen printed sonnets are dedicated to Miss
Palmer, now Lady Inchiquin,
a niece of Sir Joshua Reynolds. Her he
was madly in love with. Whether Sir J. opposed this match
on account of Bampfylde’s own
irregularities in London, or of the hereditary insanity, I know not; but this
was the commencement of his madness. On being refused admittance at
Sir Joshua’s, he broke the windows, and was
taken to Newgate! Some weeks after, Jackson, on knowing of what had passed, went to London, and
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for Bampfylde. Lady B., his mother, said she knew little of
him; she had got him out of Newgate; he was in some beggarly place.
‘Where?’ In King Street, Holborn, she believed, but did
not know the number. Away went Jackson, and knocked at
every door till he found the right. It was a miserable place. The woman of the
house was one of the worst class of women in London. She knew
B. had no money, and that he had been there three days
without food. Jackson found him with the levity of
derangement; his shirt-collar black and ragged—his beard of two
months’ growth. He said he was come to breakfast, and turned to a
harpsichord in the room, literally, he said, to let B.
gorge himself without being noticed. He took him away, gave his mother a severe
lecture, and left him in decent lodgings and with a decent allowance, earnestly
begging him to write. He never wrote. The next news was his confinement, and
Jackson never saw him more. Almost the last time they
met, he showed him several poems; among others a ballad on the murder of
David Rizzio. ‘Such a
ballad!’ said J. He came to
J. to dinner, and was asked for copies. ‘I
burnt them,’ was the reply; ‘you did not seem to like
them, and I wrote them to please you, so I burnt them.’ After
twenty years’ confinement his senses returned, but he was dying in a
consumption. He was urged by his apothecary to leave the house in Sloane
Street, where he was well treated, and go into Devonshire. ‘Your
Devonshire friends will be very glad to see you.’ He immediately
hid his face. ‘No, sir,’ said he, ‘they who ![]()
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knew me what I was, shall never see me what I
am.’ . . . .
Yours affectionately,
R. S.”
Sir Charles Warwick Bampfylde, fifth baronet (1753-1823)
The son of the fourth baronet (d. 1776) and brother of the poet John Bampfylde; he was
educated at New College, Oxford, and was MP for Exeter (1774-90, 1796-1812). He was
murdered by a servant.
Lady Jane Bampfylde [née Codrington] (1720-1789)
The daughter of Colonel John Codrington; in 1742 she married Sir Richard Bamfylde, fourth
baronet, and was the mother of the unfortunate poet.
John Codrington Warwick Bampfylde (1754-1796)
The second son of Sir Richard Warwick Bampfylde; educated at Trinity Hall, Cambridge, he
published a collection of Wartonian sonnets in 1778 before spending twenty years confined
to a private madhouse in Sloane Street.
Thomas Gray (1716-1771)
English poet, author of “Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College,” “Elegy written in a
Country Churchyard,” and “The Bard”; he was professor of history at Cambridge
(1768).
William Jackson of Exeter (1730-1803)
Composer, essayist, and organist of Exeter Cathedral; he was a leading figure among the
West-country literati.
Frances Keenan [née MacKinnon] (1825 fl.)
The daughter of William MacKinnon (d. 1809); she married the Irish portrait-painter John
Keenan (fl. 1815) and later resided in France. She was an acquaintance of Robert
Southey.
Emperor Napoleon I (1769-1821)
Military leader, First Consul (1799), and Emperor of the French (1804), after his
abdication he was exiled to Elba (1814); after his defeat at Waterloo he was exiled to St.
Helena (1815).
Lady Mary O'Brien [née Palmer] (1750-1820)
The daughter of John Palmer and niece of Joshua Reynolds; in 1792 she married Murrough
O'Brien, afterwards first marquess of Thomond.
Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723-1792)
English portrait-painter and writer on art; he was the first president of the Royal
Academy (1768).
David Riccio (1533 c.-1566)
Secretary and advisor to Mary Queen of Scots, murdered in her presence by Darnley and his
allies.
