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Royal Institution, in the spring of 1808; in one rality and Religion; illustrated by select passage of which he astonished his auditory by thanking from our older Divines, especially from Arch. his Maker, in the most serious manner, for so or. bishop Leighton.” This is for the most part a dering events, that he was totally ignorant of a compilation of extracts from the works of the single word of “ that frightful jargon, the French Archbishop. language!" And yet, notwithstanding this public To conclude the catalogue of Mr. Coleridge's avowal of his entire ignorance of the language, works, in 1830 was issued a small volume "Os Mr. Coleridge is said to have been in the habit, the Constitution of the Church and Slate, accord. while conversing with his friends, of expressing ing to the idea of each, with Aids towards a right! the utmost contempt for the literature of that Judgment on the late Catholic Bill." country!

In the year 1828, the whole his poetical In the years 1809–10, Mr. Coleridge issued works, including the dramas of Wallenstein from Grasmere a weekly essay, stamped to be (which had been long out of print), Remorse, and sent by the general post, called “The Friend." Zapolya, were collected in three elegant volumes This paper lasted for twenty-seven numbers, and by Mr. Pickering. was then abruptly discontinued; but the papers The latter years of Mr. Coleridge's life were have since been collected and enlarged in three made easy by a domestication with his friend Mr. small volumes.

Gillman, the surgeon of Highgate Grove, and for In the year 1812, Mr. Coleridge, being in Lon- some years, the poet deservedly received an an. don, edited, and contributed several very interest. nuity from his Majesty of £ 100 per annum, as ing articles to, Mr. Southey's “Omniana," in two an Academician of the Royal Society of Litera. small volumes. In the year 1816, appeared the ture. But these few most honorable pensions to Biographical Sketches of his Literary, Life and worn-out veterans in literature were discontinued Opinions, and his newspaper Poems re-collected by the late ministry. Mr. Coleridge contributed under the title of “ Sibylline Leaves."

one or two erudite papers to the transactions of About this time he wrote the prospectus of this Society. In the summer of 1828, Mr. Cole" The Encyclopædia Metropolitana,” still in the ridge made the tour of Holland, Flanders, and up course of publication, and was intended to be its the Rhine as far as Bergen. For some years beeditor; but this final mistake was early discovered fore his death, he was afflicted with great bodily and rectified.

pain; and was on one occasion heard to say, that In the year 1816 likewise was published by for thirteen months he had from this cause walked Mr. Murray, at the recommendation of Lord By- up and down his chamber seventeen hours each ron, who had generously befriended the brother day. He died on the 25th of July, 1834, having (or rather the father) poet, the wondrous ballad previously written the following epitaph for him. tale of “Christabel.” The author tells us in his self: preface that the first part of it was written in his

"Stop, Christian passer-by! stop, child of God ! great poetic year, 1797, at Stowey; the second

And read with gentle breast. part, after his return from Germany, in 1800, at A poel lies, or that which once seemd he Keswick : the conclusion yet remains to be writ.

Oh, lift a thought in prayer for S. T. C. !

That he, who, many a year, with toil of breath, ten! The poet says, indeed, in this preface, “ As

Found death in life, may here find life in death! in my very first conception of the tale, I had the

Mercy for praise – to be forgiven for fame, whole present to my mind, I trust that I shall yet He ask'd and hoped through Christ. Do thou the be able to embody in verse the three parts yet to

same." " We do not pretend to contradict a poet's This is perfection – worthy of the author of dreams; but we believe that Mr. Coleridge never the best essay on epitaphs in the English lan. communicated to mortal man, woman, or child, guage. He was buried in Highgate Church. He how this story of witchcraft was to end. The has left three children, namely, Hartley, Derwent, poem is, perhaps, more interesting as a fragment. and Sara. The first has published a volume of For sixteen years we remember it used to be re- poems, of which it is enough to say that they are cited and transcribed by admiring disciples, till worthy of Mr. Wordsworth's verses addressed to at length it was printed, and at least half the him at “six years old.” The second son is in charm of the poet was broken by the counterspell holy orders, and is married and settled in the of that rival magician, Faust. In 1818 was pub- west of England ; and the poet's daughter is lished the drama of Zapolya. In 1825, “ Aids united to her learned and lively cousin, Mr. Henry to Reflection, in the Forination of a Manly Char. Nelson Coleridge, the author of "Six Months in acter, on the several grounds of Prudence, Mo- the West Indies." This young lady had the good

Beneath this sod




fortune to be educated in the noble library on the and subjected for a few minutes to the ethereal banks of the Cumberland Greta, where she as. influence of that wonderful man's monologue, and sisted her accomplished uncle in translating from he will begin to believe himself a poet. The bar. the old French the bistory of the Chevalier Bay. ren wilderness may not blossom like the rose; but ard, and from the Latin the account of the Abi- it will seem, or rather feel to do so, under the luspones, or Equestrian Indians of Scuth America, tre of an imagination exhaustless as the sun.' by the Jesuit Martin Dobrizhoffer; 'oth of which "At the house of the attached friend, under works were published by Mr. Murray.

whose roof this illustrious man spent the latter * But of his native sperch, because well nigh years of his life, it was the custom to have a conDisose ip him forgetfulness had wrought,

versazione every Thursday evening. Here Cole. in kon ik wil osed his history,

ridge was the centre and admiration of the circle A garrulous but a lively tale, and fraught With matter of delight and food for thought ;

that gathered round him. He could not be other. And if he could, in Merlin's glass, have seen wise than aware of the intellectual homage of By te kom his tomes to speak our tongue were taught, which he was the object: yet there he sate, talk. The old man would have been as pleased (I ween) ing and looking all sweet and simple and divine As when he won the ear of that great empress things, the very personification of meekness and SOUTHEY's Tale of Paraguay. humility. Now he spoke of passing occurrences,

or of surrounding objects,—the flowers on the ta.

ble, or the dog on the hearth; and enlarged in The following brief sketches of Coleridge's char. most familiar wise on the beauty of the one, the acter are selected from among the numerous attachment, the almost moral nature of the other, notices which appeared in various reviews and and the wonders that were involved in each. And periodicals at the time of his decease.

now, soaring upward with amazing majesty, into “ As a great poet, and a still greater philoso- those sublirner regions in which his soul de pher, the world has hardly yet done justice to the lighted, and abstracting himself from the things genius of Coleridge. It was in truth of an order of time and sense, the strength of his wing soon not to be appreciated in a brief space. A fur carried him out of sight. And here, even in these longer life than that of Coleridge shall not suffice his eagle flights, although the eye in gazing after to bring to maturity the harvest of a renown like him was dazzled and blinded, yet ever and his. The ripening of his mind, with all its golden

a sunbeam would make its way through the loop fruitage, is but the seed-time of his glory. The holes of the mind, giving it to discern that beauelose and consummation of his labors (grievous tiful amalgamation of heart and spirit, that could to those that knew him, and even to those that equally raise him above his fellow-men, or bring knew him not,) is the mere commencement of him down again to the softest level of humanity. bis eternity of fame. As a poet, Coleridge was

• It is easy,' says the critic before alluded to,-it unquestionably great ; as a moralist, a theologian, is easy to talk—not very difficult to speechifyand a philosopher, of the very highest class

, be hard to speak; but to discourse is a gift rarely was utterly unapproachable. And here, gentle bestowed by Heaven on mortal man. Coleridge reader, let me be plainly understood as speaking has it in perfection. While he is discoursing, the not merely of the present, but the past. Nay, world loses all its common-places, and you and more. Seeing that the carth herself is now past your wife imagine yourselves Adam and Eve, ber prime, and gives various indications of her listening to the affable archangel Raphael in the beginning to grow grey in years,' it would, per. garden of Eden. You would no more dream of haps, savour more of probability than presump wishing him to be mute for awhile, than you tim, if I were likewise to include the future. It would a river, that 'imposes silence with a stilly is thus that, looking both to what is, and to what sound.' Whether you understand two consecu. has been, we seem to feel it, like a truth intuitive, tive sentences, we shall not stop too curiously to that we shall never have another Shukspeare in enquire; but you do something better—you feel the drama, nor a second Milton in the regions of the whole, just like any other divine music. And sublimer song. As a poet, Coleridge has done 'tis your own fault if you do not "a wiser and a enough to show how much more he might and better man arise to-morrow's morn." could have done, if he had so thought fit. It was

The Metropolitan. troly said of him, by an excellent critic and ac- An elaborate and admirable critique on Cole. complished judge, 'Let the dullest clod that ever ridge's “Poetical Works,” in “The Quarterly Fegetated, provided only he be alive and hears, be Review, No. CIII.," written just before his death, shut up in a room with Coleridge, or in a wood, opens as follows:

“ Idolized by many, and used without scruple visited Mr. Coleridge have left him with a feeling by more, the poet of 'Christabel and the An. akin to the judgment indicated in the above recient Mariner' is but little truly known in that mark. They admire the man more than his common literary world, which, without the pre-works, or they forget the works in the absorbing rogative of conferring fame hereafter, can most impression made by the living author. And no surely give or prevent popularity for the present. wonder. Those who remember him in his more In that circle he commonly passes for a man of vigorous days can bear witness to the peculiarity genius who has written some very beautiful and transcendent power of his conversational ela verses, but whose original powers, whatever they quence. It was unlike any thing that could be were, have been long since lost or confounded in heard elsewhere; the kind was different, the de. the pursuit of metaphysic dreams. We ourselves gree was different; the manner was different venture to think very differently of Mr. Coleridge, The boundless range of scientific knowledge, the both as a poet and a philosopher, although we are brilliancy and exquisite nicety of illustration, the well enough aware that nothing which we can deep and ready reasoning, the strangeness and say will, as matters now stand, much advance his immensity of bookish lore, were not all; the dra. chance of becoming a fashionable author. In- matic story, the joke, the pun, the festivity, must deed, as we rather believe, we should carn small be added; and with these the clerical-looking thanks from im for our happiest exertions in dress, the thick waving silver hair, the youthful such a cause; for certainly, of all the men of let colored cheek, the indefinable mouth and lips, the ters whom it has been our fortune to know, we quick yet steady and penetrating greenish-grey never met any one who was so utterly regardless eye, the slow and continuous enunciation, and the of the reputation of the mere author as Mr. Cole. everlasting music of his tones,—all went to make ridge—one so lavish and indiscriminate in the up the image and to constitute the living presena exhibition of his own intellectual wealth before of the man.” any and every person, no matter who-one so In a note at the conclusion of the number of reckless who might reap where he had most pro. “ The Quarterly Review” from which the pro digally sown and watered. .God knows,'

'—as we ceding passage has been taken, Mr. Coleridge's once heard him exclaim upon the subject of his decease is thus mentioned: unpublished system of philosophy,— God knows, “ It is with deep regret that we announce the I have no author's vanity about it. I should be death of Mr. Coleridge. When the foregoing ar. absolutely glad if I could hear that the thing had ticle on his poetry was printed, he was weak in been done before me.' It is somewhere told of body, but exhibited no obvious symptoms of so Virgil, that he took more pleasure in the good near a dissolution. The fatal change was sudden verses of Varius and Horace than in his own. and decisive; and six days before his death he We would not answer for that; but the story has knew, assuredly, that his hour was come. His always occurred to us, when we have scen Mr. few worldly affairs had been long settled ; and, Coleridge criticising and amending the work of a after many tedious adicus, he expressed a wish contemporary author with much more zeal and that he might be as little interrupted as possible. hilarity than we ever perceived him to display His sufferings were severe and constant till within about any thing of his own. Perhaps our readers thirty-six hours of his end; but they had no may have heard repeated a saying of Mr. Words.' power to affect the deep tranquillity of his mind, worth, that many men of this age had done won. or the wonted sweetness of his address. His derful things, as Davy, Scott, Cuvier, &c.; but prayer from the beginning was, that God would that Coleridge was the only wonderful man he not withdraw his Spirit; and that by the way in ever knew. Something, of course, must be al. which he would bear the last struggle, he might lowed in this as in all other such cases of anti. be able to cvince the sincerity of his fuith in tiesis; but we believe the fact really to be, that Christ. If ever man did so, Coleridge did." Psic greater part of those who have occasionally


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