lty and debt. He was
constantly involved in broils, mostly of his own stirring up. He was a
fierce pamphleteer from his youth up; and was never for a moment at
rest, He was by turns a soldier with the Duke of Monmouth, a pantile
maker, a projector, a poet, a political agent, a novelist, an essayist,
a historian. He was familiar with the pillory, and spent much of his
time in gaol. When reproached by one of his adversaries with
mercenariness, he piteously declared how he had, "in the pursuit of
peace, brought himself into innumerable broils;" how he had been "sued
for other men's debts, and stripped naked by public opinion, of what
should have enabled him to pay his own;" how, "with a numerous family,
and with no helps but his own industry, he had forced his way, with
undiscouraged diligence, through a sea of debt and misfortune," and "in
gaols, in retreats, and in all manner of extremities, supported himself
without the assistance of friends and relations." Surely, there never
was such a life of struggle and of difficulty as that of the
indefatigable De Foe. Yet all his literary labours, and they were
enormous, did not suffice to keep him clear of debt, for it is believed
that he died insolvent.[2]

[Footnote 2: George Chalmers--_Life of De Foe,_ p. 92.]

Southey was, in his own line, almost as laborious a writer as De Foe;
though his was the closet life of the student, and not the aggressive
life of the polemic. Though he knew debt, it never became his master;
and from an early period in his career, he determined not to contract a
debt that he was not able to discharge. He was not only enabled to do
this, but to help his friends liberally--maintaining for a time the
families of his brothers-in-law, Coleridge and Lovell--by simply not
allowing himself any indulgences beyond his actual means, though these
were often very straitened. The burthen he carried would have borne down
a man less brave and resolute; but he worked, and studied, and wrote,
and earned money enough for all his own wants, as well as the wants of
those who had become dependent upon him. He held on his noble way
without a murmur or complaint. He not only liberally helped his
relatives, but his old schoolfellows, in distress. He took Coleridge's
wife and family to live with him, at a time when Coleridge had abandoned
himself to opium-drinking. To meet the numerous claims upon him, Southey
merely imposed upon himself so much extra labour. He was always r