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to us as the Mr. Greatheart of poor literary pilgrims in "the wilderness of this world." By degrees," says Johnson, "I gained his confidence; and one day was admitted to him when he was immured by a bailiff, that was prowling in the street. On this occasion recourse was had to the booksellers, who, on the credit of a translation of Aristotle's Poeticks, which he engaged to write with a large commentary, advanced as much money as enabled him to escape into the country. He showed me the guineas safe in his hand." A recent French critic remarks upon the incident, with delicate humor, "C'est peut-être l'unique fois qu'Aristote ait rendu ce service à un lettré." 1

In such untoward circumstances Collins composed the poems which have secured him lasting fame, although even these, if Ragsdale's statement can be trusted, were written for the purpose of getting money. "To raise a present subsistence he set about writing his odes; and, having a general invitation to my house, he frequently passed whole days there, which he employed in writing them, and as frequently burning what he had written, after reading them to me: many of them, which pleased me, I struggled to preserve, but without effect; for, pretending he would alter them, he got them from me and thrust them into the fire." The poet's literary fastidiousness is mentioned also by Thomas Warton, who says: "I have seen all his odes, already published, in his own handwriting; they had the marks of repeated correction he was perpetually changing his epithets."

Collins's earlier intention was to publish his odes jointly with those of his friend Joseph Warton. This appears from a letter written by the latter to Thomas Warton, in which he says: Collins met me in Surrey, at Guildford races, when I wrote out for him my odes, and he likewise communicated some of his to me; and being both in very high spirits we

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1 Émile Montégut, Heures de Lecture d'un Critique, Paris, 1891, p. 183.

took courage, resolved to join our forces, and to publish them Collins is not to publish the odes unless

immediately. . . .

he gets ten guineas for them." 1

The plan of joint publication was for some reason abandoned, and the poems of the two friends appeared separately in December, 1746. Warton's little book went to a second edition in the next year.2 Collins's odes fell flat, and the best efforts of his publisher could not work off the edition of a thousand copies. How great was the disappointment of the proud and sensitive author we could easily imagine, even if there had not come down to us the story that, "conceiving a just indignation against a blind and tasteless age," he "burnt the remaining copies with his own hands."

But although the odes did not catch the popular ear, they could hardly fail to raise the poet's reputation among men of letters. In particular, Collins seems to have been intimate with Thomson during the year and a half between the publication of the odes and Thomson's death. It is said that he took lodgings at Richmond and entered that jovial circle of friends some of whose portraits Thomson sketched in The Castle of Indolence. The memorial verses by Collins, pub

5

1 John Wooll's Memoirs of J. Warton, London, 1806, p. 14, foot-note. The letter is undated. It cannot be earlier than May, 1745, for it refers to the ode on the death of Colonel Ross, who fell at Fontenoy in that month; nor later than June, 1746, when the ode was published in Dodsley's Museum.

2 Odes on Various Subjects, by Joseph Warton, 2d ed., London, 1747. 3 Langhorne's fling at the publisher as a favourer of genius, when once it has made its way to fame," brought out a reply in The Monthly Review (vol. XXXII, p. 294) that "the bookseller actually purchased the copy, at a very handsome price (for those times), and, at his own expence and risk, did all in his power to introduce Mr. Collins to the notice of the public." Langhorne removed the sentence in subsequent editions.

4 Langhorne's Collins, London, 1765, p. xi.

5 The Aldine Collins, London, 1894, p. xxiii.

lished the year after Thomson's death, certainly bear the impress of personal love and grief.

The days of Collins's poverty were now drawing to a close. In April, 1749, Colonel Martin died,1 and left to the poet about £2000, "a sum," says Johnson, "which Collins could scarcely think exhaustible, and which he did not live to exhaust." Soon afterwards he seems to have left London and taken up his residence in his native city.2

Of Collins's literary labors and plans in these days of newly acquired competence and ease there are several hints. His last poem which has been preserved, the Ode on the Popular Superstitions of the Highlands of Scotland, was occasioned by a friend's return to Scotland, toward the end of the year 1749, and evidently was composed at about that time. The following letter is interesting both for its reference to another ode, which has never been discovered, and also because it is the only extant letter from the poet's hand. It refers to a musical performance of The Passions, and is addressed to Dr. William Hayes, Professor of Music in Oxford University.

3

"Mr. Blackstone, of Winchester, some time since informed me of the honour you had done me at Oxford last summer; for which I return you my sincere thanks. I have another

1 The Gentleman's Magazine, April, 1749, register of deaths.

2 See Collins's letter, p. xxii and T. Warton's letter, p. xxiv.

...

3 Printed in Seward's Supplement to Anecdotes of Some Distinguished Persons, London, 1797, p. 123, where it is preceded by this statement: "The following letter . . ... to Dr. Hayes . . was permitted to decorate this Collection, by the kindness of his son. The music of the ode to which it refers was excellently well adapted to the words. The choruses were very full and majestic, and the airs gave completely the spirit of the Passions which they were intended to imitate."

more perfect copy of the Ode; which, had I known your obliging design, I would have communicated to you.

९९

Inform me by a line, if you should think one of my better judgement acceptable. In such case I could send you one written on a nobler subject; and which, tho' I have been persuaded to bring it forth in London, I think more calculated for an audience in the University. The subject is the Music of the Grecian Theatre; in which I have, I hope naturally, introduced the various characters with which the chorus was concerned, as Edipus, Medea, Electra, Orestes, etc., etc. The composition, too, is probably more correct, as I have chosen the ancient Tragedies for my models, and only copied the most affecting passages in them. "In the mean time, you would greatly oblige me by sending the score of the last. If you can get it written, I will readily answer the expence.

If you send it with a copy or

two of the Ode (as printed at Oxford) to Mr. Clarke, at Winchester, he will forward it to me here.

"I am, Sir, with great respect,

"Your obliged humble servant,

"WILLIAM COLLINS.

"CHICHESTER, SUSSEX,

"November 8, 1750.

"P. S. Mr. Clarke past some days here while Mr. Worgan was with me; from whose friendship, I hope, he will receive some. advantage."

Other poems, of uncertain date, may for convenience be mentioned at this point. "He also shewed us,” writes Thomas Warton, speaking of the year 1754, "another ode, of two or three four-lined stanzas, called The Bell of Arragon; on a tradition that, anciently, just before a king of Spain died, the great bell of the cathedral of Sarragossa, in Arragon, tolled spontaneously. It began thus:

'The bell of Arragon, they say,

*Spontaneous speaks the fatal day,' etc.

Soon afterwards were these lines:

'Whatever dark aërial power,

Commission'd haunts the gloomy tower.'

The last stanza consisted of a moral transition to his own death and knell, which he called 'some simpler bell.'. . . Dr. Warton, my brother, has a few fragments of some other odes, but too loose and imperfect for publication, yet containing traces of high imagery."

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Collins had not lost his talent for projects. In 1750 he proposed to Thomas Warton a scheme of a review, to be called The Clarendon Review, and to be printed at the university press, under the conduct and authority of the university." When it is remembered that the reviews of the eighteenth century were booksellers' organs, written by literary hacks, Collins's idea is seen to be original and bold. It has since been realized, in substance, by the great independent reviews established in the first quarter of the present century; in 1750 the project probably was not practicable. It appears, from references by Thomas Warton, that at this time Collins also resumed his purpose of writing a history of the Revival of Learning, and collected many scarce books to aid him in this labor.1

But now, in the midst of prosperity, and when he had hardly reached the maturity of his powers, there crept into the mind of the poet an insidious and terrible malady, which darkened all his remaining days and made him one of the most pitiable of men. Collins's disease was mental; but its exact nature cannot be determined, as the reports concerning it are vague and sometimes conflicting. Apparently it developed slowly, and was always variable if not strictly intermittent.

1 See p.
xl.