at a later time, and to leave him, like those who had gone before him, as a man of the past history and the early beginnings. It has been passing beyond him, even within these thirty years since the portion of his life which he gave to song was ended, and in the future he may probably be lost sight of far more than he is to-day. As the great poet who may rise among us, in the coming time, shall take his place in the company of the great of other lands and other ages, the memory of him, like that of those in the generation before him, may fade away-except so far as the student of history may recall the progress of this divine art. Percival himself, on the other hand, and his biographer seems to fall into something of the same mistake respecting him,—took a much higher view of his own merits. He believed himself to be a poet deserving of a wide-extended and long-enduring reputation. He felt that his countrymen ought always to bear him in their hearts and sound aloud his praises. He demanded more than the wise and impartial judgment of the world could bestow upon him, and, of necessity, he was deeply disappointed. No reader of this volume can fail to see, everywhere throughout the earlier chapters, the evidence of his self-esteem in reference to his poetic power, and his almost angry dissatisfaction when the results of his efforts at publication were made known to him. He scolded the public unsparingly to his friends, and became so disgusted with mankind in general, that he shut himself up in his solitary life, to brood over the dullness and selfishness of the world. We can easily realize how a mind, which had so much of real enthusiasm and even of true inspiration as his had, and, at the same time, so much determination to be what he thought himself capable of being, could become grieved and disheartened and even impatient under the trial of what seemed to him a too low appreciation of his genius. But the trial was in large measure, if not wholly, owing to himself. As we read Mr. Ward's account of these years, we are impressed with the fact that he was not, in reality, neglected by the literary public. His poems were not received, indeed, with the eagerness with which a new volume from Tennyson would now be welcomed, and they certainly ought not to have been so received. They were not received even as willingly

as a novel, or perhaps as a treatise or, to use his own language, a "heavy-blank-verse melody" on doctrinal theology, was then received. But it must be remembered, that men, in all ages, run after novel-reading, and that, at that day, they were unusually devoted to theological controversy. The true way of deciding the question is to compare his case with that of other poets, and, approaching the matter thus, we again submit that he was fairly treated by his contemporaries. They certainly ought to stand acquitted of all unjust depreciation of his merits; and we question whether his poems were not more favorably accepted by the public, even if somewhat less widely circulated, than they would have been, had they been published a quarter of a century later. The number of readers has become greater, indeed, since that time, but it must not be forgotten that the standard of poetry has become higher also. We would give all praise to Percival for what he did. We would acknowledge his genius and the beauty of some of his verses. But we cannot place him where he placed himself, nor can we wonder that his largest desires were ever unsatisfied. Had he estimated himself as he ought to have done, we believe he would have found a voice in song, and a joyous one too, even to the end of his life, and that the blessing of many happy years might have come to him, as it came to those other poets whose fame has descended to us from his own time, and some of whom are still enjoying their reward in old age, as they are conscious of the esteem and praises of their country

men.

The failure of his hopes in this loved and chosen sphere, and the necessity of finding the means of support led him, as we have seen, into other lines of working. But he seems to have carried his disappointed ambition with him everywhere, and, as the result of it, to have been dissatisfied with every employment which his friends-sometimes with infinite pains-secured for him. We hazard nothing in saying that, among the numerous things which he undertook, no one found him with a contented mind for more than a few months. Either the work itself became thoroughly irksome to him, or the remuneration for his services, which had been agreed upon, became so small to his apprehension, in comparison with the labor to be perform

ed, that he felt and openly intimated that his employer was over-reaching or defrauding him. Cases continually occurred where, on the presentation of his grievances, a new and more favorable pecuniary arrangement was made, but a short period only elapsed before he became as discontented as before. And almost universally the final result was, that he abandoned the work, if not in the most sudden manner, yet with the most deeply injured feeling. He saw no fault in himself at such times, but laid the blame wholly upon others, or upon the inconsiderate or ignorant world. A very striking instance, as exhibiting his character in this regard, is found in connection. with his appointment to certain services under the War Department of the United States. As his friend, Prof. William C. Fowler, in the year 1823, was leaving New Haven for a short residence in Washington, Percival "requested him to make some efforts to obtain for him a situation under the general government." After his arrival in Washington, Professor Fowler had a number of interviews with Mr. Calhoun, then Secretary of War, and made interest with him to such a de. gree that a choice of three positions was offered to the poet,a professorship of chemistry and kindred sciences in the Academy at West Point, the post of surgeon in the army, and some office as a clerkship-at Washington. He preferred the position at West Point, became very earnest to secure it, endeavored to press Mr. Calhoun's half-promise upon that gentleman's attention, when political influences would have given the place to another, and finally fell into such a state of anxious suspense, that he was wholly unable to bear it, and actually made a journey to Washington, notwithstanding his extreme poverty, in order that he might learn his fate at the earliest moment. At length the nomination was made by Mr. Calhoun, though, as Professor Fowler remarks, "at the loss of political favor on his part," and the appointment was confirmed by the Senate. This was about the first of March, 1824. On the fifth of the following May, Percival wrote from West Point to his friend in Washington-we quote his language almost verbatim-that he was altogether dissatisfied with his quarters; that he was equally dissatisfied with his duties; that his work was much more laborious than he had antici

pated, and in fact was mere drudgery; that the employment was unhealthy; that he hated chemistry, and had no notion of stifling himself with the stench and poison of a laboratory; that he had been entirely deceived in regard to the place; and that of all the disappointments of which his life had been full this was the worst. How long he had been in the new office we cannot determine with absolute certainty, but it is evident that it was not more than two months, and he distinctly says that it was the very first evening of his entrance upon the quarters of which he speaks. A few days later, he discourses to the same friend in the following strain: "I have been disappointed. I have been exposed to a loss of reputation; and yet I believe you have had the very best intentions. I indulge no resentment. I regret that you were so hasty, that you were not better informed. I am sure, if you had been, we should at once have agreed that the surgeon's place was far preferable," &c., &c.,that is, in a sort of magnanimous mingling of forgiveness with reproach, he throws the blame of bringing him into such an unpleasant position upon the one who had endeavored to render him a great service, which he had himself especially desired. The burden of his letters now was that he might be relieved from his professorship, and be transferred to the post of surgeon in the army, the second of the three positions suggested to him at the outset. Notwithstanding the delicacy of approaching Mr. Calhoun again with this new request, after he had exposed himself to ill-will by bestowing the West Point appointment as he did, Professor Fowler did so at Percival's urgent desire; and the request being granted, Percival was stationed at Boston,-the very station which he had wished for. He seems to have left the Military Academy in June. Six months afterward, in January, 1825, we find him writing again to the same friend, that his new place was disagreeable in itself, and was one in which his compensation was reduced more than one-half without any chance of improvement. He adds, "I have regretted, ever since I felt myself obliged to leave West Point, that you had not at first directed the patronage which was granted me last winter to the situation of a clerk at Washington," and, after some further remarks, he says, "Of course I cannot be willing to continue here." Professor Fow

ler once more interceded in his behalf, bringing his third proposition to the notice of the government, but, to use that gentleman's own language, the matter was not followed up because he (Percival) became, just at this time, gradually engrossed in certain literary engagements. So far the story of his relations with the government. We may add, in a single word, that the first of these literary matters, to which Professor Fowler refers, was an abridgment of Lempriere's Classical Dictionary, which he was to accomplish in ninety days But this, also, was given up, almost as soon as undertaken, and he began to support himself by contributions to various periodicals. His whole history is full of such instances of dissatisfaction and such changes of purpose,-generally with a similar feeling that he had been either unintentionally deceived or intentionally cheated. Of course, under such circumstances, his poetry was not the only thing that failed. No life could be successful which proceeded on these principles. No efforts of others could help it to success when the man himself threw away every opportunity that was offered to him from every side, and even every opportunity that he had himself urged his friends to secure in his behalf.

This, however, was not the only obstacle which hindered his progress. Every man's prosperity or triumph in his career in this world is largely dependent on his relations to others. But Percival was as sensitive in his social relations as he was prone to find fault with his condition and his work. We venture to affirm that it was impossible for the most gentle and considerate and Christian person to be sure of living upon comfortable terms with him for a period of years. His was one of those suspicious and easily offended souls, which often interpret the most innocent and harmless remark as a designed slight to themselves. The past alone, therefore, could be safe to any of his acquaintance; no one could imagine what the immediate. future might bring to pass. The idea is believed to have prevailed in some quarters, and seems to have been in the poet's own mind, that the citizens of New Haven were neglectful of him, and willingly excluded him from their society. But we see no evidence of this-except so far as, by reason of his readiness to take offense where none was intended, he put it