ÆT. 66-7.] 463 expressed himself 'Soothed-comforted; and, after a few words uttered in a whisper, he fell into a quiet slumber. As we sat by his side, reflecting on what had passed, we thought with Rogers : * BOULOGNE-THE CLOSING SCENE. "Through many a year We shall remember with a "sad" delight The words so precious which we heard to-night!"" * * * "June 13th, morning.-Miss Campbell and I remained all night at his bedside. His breathing has become laborious, and, in other respects, he is worse than he was yesterday. He has been able, however, to go through the fatigue of some change of dress, and begins to feel a little refreshed.* "Afternoon. He has spoken little to-day, but listens attentively to whatever is said, and appears quite sensible of what is passing around him. He recognises every one; and, when asked how he feels, he says 'tolerable'-syllabling the word. Prayers were again read first by Mr. Hassells, and afterwards some texts of Scripture by Miss Campbell-and in both instances the silent moving of his lips showed that he took part in the suppli cation. "Mr. Moxon arrived from London, and being introduced to his bedside, the Poet recognised and shook hands with him, saying faintly-Very glad to see you.'" The "June 14th.-All night at the sufferer's bedside. Never shall I forget the impression these night-watches have left on my mind. . . . He has taken hardly any sustenance for several hours-his words are few-pronounced with an effortand often inarticulate; but there is no murmur; no complaint; and he repeats the same answer--' tolerable.' crisis is evidently approaching. The respiration is becoming more difficult and hurried: his lips are compressed--the nostrils dilated-the eyes closed-and the chest heaves almost convulsively. Quam mutatus ab illo ! He is still conscious, however; and the very compression of the lips discovers an effort to meet the struggle with firmness and composure. * We have found the fumes rising from eau-de-cologne to be grateful and refreshing to him. The process is very simple-a teaspoonful thrown from time to time upon a heated shovel-if nothing better be at handkeeps the apartment fresh and pleasant; and, if burnt at a little distance from the foot of the bed, the vapor seems to relieve the hard breathing. Nothing is so simple as to be below notice in such circumstances. "At a moment when he appeared to be sleeping heavily, his lips suddenly moved, and in a slow, distinct whisper, he said: 'We shall see ** to-morrow!'-naming in the same breath a long-departed friend. 6 "Prayers for the sick were read as usual; but, as the night advanced, he appeared to be losing the enviable consciousness and self-possession which had marked the complaint up to this hour. After giving him a teaspoonful of some liquid at hand, he moistened his lips with it, adding as usual, Thank youmuch obliged;' and these, perhaps, were the last connected words we heard from him. . . . Towards the morning he became for the first time restless; throwing the coverlet aside and breathing convulsively. This was painful; but even then his own consoling words came forcibly to our minds: ['Say, can the world one joyous thought bestow * * * "June 15th, Saturday. This has been an anxious night. All the symptoms have been aggravated within the last twelve hours. He has not moved but as he was lifted. To a question from his niece, he answered with much difficulty-but the spirit of kindness was in the word; and then he sank again into slumber. "The restlessness is quite gone: his features look sharper and more defined than yesterday; but they are perfectly serene -almost like a statue-unless, when affected by the difficulty of breathing, they seem agitated by slight convulsive twitches. He lies in the same posture-on his left side-his head and shoulders supported by pillows. * "At two o'clock he opened his eyes, and then, as if the light of this world were too oppressive, closed them. He is now dying. The twilight dews of life are lying heavy on his temples. * * * "At a quarter past four in the afternoon, our beloved Poet, * * * * * * ÆT. 66-7.] 465 Thomas Campbell, expired, without a struggle. His niece,* Dr. Allatt, and myself, were standing by his bedside. The last sound he uttered was a short faint shriek-such as a person utters at the sudden appearance of a friend-expressive of pleasure and surprise. This may seem fanciful-but I know of nothing else that it might be said to resemble. * * * BOULOGNE-THE CLOSING SCENE. "Though quite prepared, as I thought, for the crisis, yet, I confess, I was so bewildered at the moment of transition, that, when I saw the head drop lifeless upon his chest, I could hardly satisfy my mind, that I was standing in the same chamber, and at the bedside of Thomas Campbell. There lay the breathless form of him who had impressed all sensitive hearts with the magic influence of his genius-the hallowed glow of his poetry -the steady warmth of his patriotism-the unwearied labors of his philanthropy; the man whom I had seen under many varieties of circumstance-in public the observed of all observers -in private, the delight of his circle-the pride of his country -the friend of humanity; now followed with acclamationsnow visited with sorrows-struggling with difficulties, or soured with disappointments; then, striving to seek repose in exileand here finding it in death. "These thoughts passed rapidly through my mind-but with all the individuality and distinctness of a picture vividly and faithfully drawn. In that picture I saw innumerable traits of human excellence-in the light of which the inherent failings of our common nature were lost. How little was that man to be envied, who should watch the close of such a life to drag its frailties into light! Let every tree be judged by its fruitthe poet by his works-and the evidence is conclusive. "5 P. M.-With these feelings we gently closed his eyes, that had now opened on the eternal world. When every one else During the last ten days Miss Campbell has often shared in the anxious night-watch-and in other respects discharged the duties of a grateful and attached relative. In every change previously effected or contemplated in his domestic arrangements, he had always consulted her advantage, her personal comfort, and intellectual improvement; and with her it now rests to fulfil his own tender prediction: "To think, too, thy remembrance fond May love me after death, Gives fancied happiness beyond My lease of living breath!" Hee Lines, p. 425 had left the room the remaining duties were silently performed by the poor nurse and myself-the former shedding unfeigned tears during the ceremony. 11 at night.-A countenance more serene, and spiritualized by death, we never beheld-no vestige of struggle or contortion-but as if every muscle had been fixed in its happiest expression. * "Sunday, June 16th.-During the day we have made frequent visits to the silent death-chamber, in which we imagine we still hear him breathing. The light, partially admitted from the side-window, shows the features in cold, placid relief. It is quite the picture of a wearied pilgrim resting from his labors-a deep untroubled repose. Seldom has death assumed an aspect so attractive; and often as it has been my lot to contemplate, under various circumstances, the features of the dead, I have rarely, if ever, beheld anything like the air of sublimity that now invests the face of the deceased. Mr. G., who had known the Poet long, was much affected at the sight, and remained for several minutes on his knees at the bed-side." * * - * แ Sunday. This evening, between nine and ten o'clock, the body was removed from the upper chamber, and placed in its leaden coffin-near his own chair'-in the drawing-room. The ceremony was witnessed by the immediate friends and servants of the family. It was very impressive-aided by the deep silence and the recollection that this room was but recently fitted up for the social enjoyments of life. The body was removed from the bed on the coffin-lid-without discomposing a limb or a feature. The stars were shining through the windows at the time along the staircase and passage, lights were placed *It may appear to some that I have lingered too long in the sick-room -dwelt too minutely on circumstances which might have been summarily noticed or passed over in silence. But where every successive interview is expected to be the last, we are apt to linger-attaching importance to every word, look, or sign from him who is trembling on the verge of exist ence; we watch with intense interest those features, where life and death are brought into close but unequal combat. We see the approaches of fate, yet shrink back from the conviction, as if, by protracting the interview, we could avoid the sacrifice-but to take the last look.-Hoc erat luctuosum suis-acerbum patriæ !-ED. The Poet's last receptacle-all French-is lined with white muslin-a fringed pillow is placed under his head-the shroud is drawn partly round it, with the forehead and features left open. ÆT. 66-7.] 467 just sufficient to direct the steps of the bearers—and if the silence was interrupted, it was only by a sigh or a whisper. Altogether the scene was impressive and solemn. The persons entrusted with this part of the ceremony have acted with great feeling and decorum. Dr. Cousin, the government inspector, called to see the body, and receive a statement of the case, to be entered in the obituary records of the month." * * * BOULOGNE-THE CLOSING SCENE. * * 66 Monday, 17th. A private cast was taken of the Poet's head and right hand by a skilful artist. The likeness is very striking. The head is remarkable in shape the natural form was quite concealed by the peruke which he wore for more than forty years. ["I have written forty-nine letters and notes to the family and friends of the deceased Poet."] · • "June 18th. The old nurse-a soldier's widow-has twined a chaplet of laurel and evergreen-very tastefully-with which, as a mark of homage, she has requested leave to encircle the Poet's brow. Such an appeal was not to be refused. There was something very touching in this little act of gratuitous homage--a soldier's widow crowning the author of "The British Grenadiers on the Eighteenth of June-the anniversary of Waterloo. "The effect, as he now lies in his coffin-with the head slightly elevated, and circled with laurel-is suggestive of many reflections. Early in the morning I found this poor woman sitting by the coffin, with the prayer-book in her hand— and his poems at her side. Other friendly hands have gathered roses and scattered them over the folds of the shroud; and one has placed in his cold hand a bouquet of field-flowers-his own 'field-flowers,' that he wished to bloom on his tomb."t "June 19th, Wednesday, half-past 10, P. M.-We have now taken the last view of the Poet's remains. We met in the chamber at nine o'clock, in presence of the Commissaire de Police and his assistants. Miss Campbell, ourselves, and the servants, went each to the side of the coffin to take a last look * See the war-song thus entitled, p. 54-5. + "Once I welcome you more, in life's passionless stage, And I wish you to grow on my tomb!"-POEMS, page 286, |