a delicate, sensitive
organization, with a fine intellectual countenance and a
beaming poetic eye.

"He had now been about twelve years married. Mrs. Campbell
still retained much of that personal beauty for which he
praises her in his letters written in the early days of
matrimony; and her mental qualities seemed equally to justify
his eulogies: a rare circumstance, as none are more prone to
dupe themselves in affairs of the heart than men of lively
imaginations. She was, in fact, a more suitable wife for a poet
than poet's wives are apt to be; and for once a son of song had
married a reality and not a poetical fiction.

"I had considered the early productions of Campbell as
brilliant indications of a genius yet to be developed, and
trusted that, during the long interval which had elapsed, he
had been preparing something to fulfill the public expectation;
I was greatly disappointed, therefore, to find that, as yet, he
had contemplated no great and sustained effort. My
disappointment in this respect was shared by others, who took
the same interest in his fame, and entertained the same idea of
his capacity. 'There he is, cooped up in Sydenham,' said a
great Edinburgh critic to me, 'simmering his brains to serve up
a little dish of poetry, instead of pouring out a whole
caldron.'

"Scott, too, who took a cordial delight in Campbell's poetry,
expressed himself to the same effect. 'What a pity is it,' said
he to me, 'that Campbell does not give full sweep to his
genius. He has wings that would bear him up to the skies, and
he does now and then spread them grandly, but folds them up
again and resumes his perch, as if afraid to launch away. The
fact is, he is a bugbear to himself. The brightness of his
early success is a detriment to all his future efforts. _He is
afraid of the shadow that his own fame casts before him_.

"Little was Scott aware at the time that he, in truth, was a
'bugbear' to Campbell. This I infer from an observation of Mrs.
Campbell's in reply to an expression of regret on my part that
her husband did not attempt something on a grand scale. 'It is
unfortunate for Campbell,' said she, 'that he lives in the same
age with Scott and Byron.' I asked why. 'Oh,' said she, 'they
write so much and so rapidly. Now Camp