Isaac Corry (1753-1813): Prominent Irish politician. Born in Newry, son of the merchant and MP Edward Corry. Educated at the Royal School, Antrim and BA, Trinity College, Dublin, 1773. Succeeded his father as MP for Newry in the Irish Parliament, 1776. Originally an opposition MP, he first gained office as surveyor-general of the ordnance in 1788 and rose to be Irish Chancellor of the Exchequer in 1799–1804. Always a controversial figure, he fought a duel with the opposition MP, Henry Grattan (1746–1820; DNB), in 1800.

Edward Copleston (1776-1849): Fellow and then Provost of Oriel College, Oxford, and Bishop of Llandaff 1827–1849. Copleston was a writer on theological, social and economic subjects, from a liberal Tory viewpoint, and a leading figure in Oxford University. He gained Southey’s approval through his Three Replies to the Calumnies of the Edinburgh Review (1810–1811), which attacked the Edinburgh Review’s criticism of Oxford’s teaching.

Josiah Conder (1789-1855): Started life in his father’s booksellers’ business, which he inherited and ran 1811–1819. However, he became better known as an industrious writer, editor and compiler, particularly of works on Nonconformist themes, and as owner and editor of the Eclectic Review, 1814–1837. In 1815 he married the poet Joan Elizabeth Thomas (c. 1786–1877) who wrote as ‘Eliza Thomas’.

Edward Combe (c. 1773/4-1848): Clergyman. Son of Richard Combe of Harley St. Educated at Westminster (adm. June 1785) and Christ Church, Oxford (matric. October 1792, BA 1796, MA 1803). Admitted to Lincoln’s Inn, January 1795. Perpetual Curate of Barrington, Somerset, 1810; Rector of Earnshill and of Donyatt from 1821. Southey met Combe at Westminster and later described him as one of his ‘most intimate acquaintances’ during his years at school. Combe was known by the nicknames ‘His Majesty’ or the ‘King of Men’.

Jeremiah Collins (1774-1853): Clergyman. Educated at Balliol College, Oxford (BA 1794). He eventually returned to his native Cornwall, where he became chaplain of the Truro Infirmary. He and Southey were friends for a short time in Oxford, but by mid-1794 they were permanently estranged.

Charles Collins (c. 1777-1806?): School friend. The son of William Collins and his wife Sarah Astell of Maize Hill, Greenwich, Kent. Educated at Westminster and Christ Church, Oxford (matric. Jan 1793). Married Jane Forman, by whom he had one son. Died c. 1806. Collins’s biography is difficult to reconstruct as Records of Old Westminsters and Alumni Oxoniensis both confuse him with his son, also named Charles Collins, and give a later date of death. A note, now in the Huntington Library, written by an eponymous descendant confirms that he died young.

William Hart Coleridge (1789-1849): Nephew of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. He was educated by his uncle George Coleridge, master of the grammar school at Ottery St Mary. This was followed by a glittering career at Oxford University. He used his prestige in the University to secure the scholarship, known as a Postmastership, that allowed Hartley Coleridge to attend Merton College, Oxford. William Hart Coleridge was a clergyman who later became Bishop of Barbados and the Leeward Islands 1824–1842.

See Fricker, Sarah (1770–1845)

Sara Coleridge (1802-1852): Youngest child and only daughter of Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Sarah Fricker; and Southey’s niece. Translator, writer and indefatigable editor of her father’s works. Sara Coleridge grew up at Greta Hall; her father was absent for most of her childhood, and she was mainly educated by Southey, her mother and her aunt, Mary Lovell. She showed an early talent for languages, becoming a fluent reader of Latin, Greek, French, German, Italian and Spanish.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834): Poet, critic, philosopher and Southey’s brother-in-law. His complex — at times passionate — four-decade relationship with Coleridge had a major impact both on Southey’s life and on his critical posterity. It began in Oxford in summer 1794 when Robert Allen introduced Southey to a visitor from Cambridge — Coleridge. It was a fateful meeting, leading to the failed scheme of Pantisocracy, literary collaboration, and — eventually — mutual disenchantment. As Southey later recorded: ‘that meeting fixed the future fortunes of us both ...