Mr. Wordsworth, with whose great and honored name it must ever be the pride and pleasure of the friends of Coleridge to associate his.

—“I feel absolutely certain that your Father never was Editor of any periodical publication whatsoever except The Watchman and The Friend, neither of which, as you know, was long continued, and The Friend expressly excluded even allusion to temporary topics; nor, to the best of my remembrance, had The Watchman anything of the character of a newspaper. When he was very young he published several sonnets in a London newspaper. Afterwards he was in strict connexion with the editors or at least proprietors of one or more newspapers, The Courier and The Morning Post; and in one of these, I think it was the latter, your Father wrote a good deal."

"So convinced was I of the great service that your Father rendered Mr. Stuart's paper, that I urged him to put in his claim to be admitted a proprietor; but this he declined, having a great disinclination to any tie of the kind. In fact he could not bear being shackled in any way. I have heard him say that he should be sorry, if any one offered him an estate, for he should feel the possession would involve cares and duties that would be a clog to him."____3

3

The "Newspaper" which is supposed to have retarded my Father's growth in Catholicism, it now occurs to me, may have been The Watchman, as in that miscellany the domestic and foreign policy of the preceding days was reported and discussed; but I still think, that the impression which this statement, together with the inference drawn from it, is calculated to convey, is far from just. To be for any length of time the editor of a periodical work, which is the successful organ of a party, whatever principles that party may profess, nay even if they call themselves Catholic, is indeed to be in a situation of some danger to the moral and spiritual sense: but such was never my father's situation. When he is described as having been impaired in his religious mind by editing a newspaper, would any one guess

3 The reader is referred to chap. v. of the Biographical Supplement for an account of Mr. C.'s connexion with Mr. Stuart.

the fact to be this, that, in his youth, he put forth ten numbers of a miscellaneous work, one portion of which was devoted to the politics of the times, and was unable to make it answer because he would not adapt it to the ways of the world and of newspapers in general? Let those who have been led to think that Mr. Coleridge's services to public journals may have dead. ened his religious susceptibilities consider, not only the principles which he professes and the frame of mind which he displays on this very subject in the tenth chapter of the present work, but the character of his newspaper essays themselves; had the writer, to whose remarks I refer, done this, before he pronounced judgment, I think he could not have failed to see that my Father conformed the publications he aided to himself and his own high views, in proportion to the extent of his connexion with them, not himself to vulgar periodical writing. The Edinburgh Reviewers indeed, in the year 1847, flung in his teeth, “Ministerial Editor." With them the reproach lay in the word Ministerial. Tempora mutantur—but the change of times has not yet brought truth to the service of my Father, or made him generally understood.

Not however the connexion with newspapers merely, but the profession of literature is specified as one among other causes, which alienated my Father's mind from Catholicity. The peculiar disadvantages of the "trade of authorship" Mr. Coleridge has himself described in this biographical fragment; he has shown that literature can scarcely be made the means of living without being debased; but he himself failed in it, as the means of living, because he would not thus debase it,—would not sacrifice higher aims for the sake of immediate popularity. Literature, pursued not as a mere trade, is naturally the ally, rather than the adversary, of religion. It is indeed against our blessed Lord, if not for him; but though it has its peculiar danger, inasmuch as it satisfies the soul more than any other, and is thus more liable to become a permanent substitute for religion with the higher sort of characters, yet surely, by exercising the habits of abstraction and reflection, it better disciplines the mind for that life which consiste in seeking the things that are above while we are yet in the flesh, than worldly business or pleasure.

Inferior pursuits may sooner weary and disgust, but during their continuance they more unfit the mind for higher ones; and the departure of one set of guests does not leave the soul an empty apartment, swept and garnished for the reception of others more worthy.

And how should literature indispose men towards Catholic views in religion? The common argument in behalf of those which are commonly so called rests upon historical testimony and outward evidence; why should the profession of literature render men less able to estimate proof of this nature? A pursuit it is which leads to reflection and inquiry, and what can be said for the soundness of that system to which these are adverse? Some, indeed, maintain that our persuasions in such matters depend little upon argument; that none can truly enter into the merits of the Church system, save those who have been in the habit of obeying it, and that from their youth up. Now, it is not, of course, contended that my Father was, during his whole life, in the best position for appreciating Catholicity and becoming attached to it; but this may be fairly maintained, that he never was so circumstanced, as to be precluded from drawing nigh to any truthful system, existing in the world, and in due time coming under its habitual sway.

Again: in what sense can it be truly said of Coleridge that he disregarded authority? It would be difficult to instance a thinker more disposed to weigh the thoughts of other thinkers, more ready to modify his views by consideration of theirs or the grounds on which they rest. Can those who bring the charge against him substantiate of it more than this, that he had not their convictions respecting the authority attributable to a certain set of writers of a certain age? And does it not appear that this theory of the consentient teaching of the Fathers and its "practical infallibility" involves the depreciation of authority, at least in one very important sense? He who binds himself by it, strictly, must needs hold human intelligence to be of little avail in the determination of religious questions, since it is the leading principle of this theory of faith, that our belief has been fixed by an outward revelation,-the commentary of tradition upon Scripture,—and that we are not to look upon the reason and con

science of man, interpreted by the understanding, as the everlasting organ of the Spirit of Truth? The weakest intellect can receive doctrine implicitly as well as the strongest, and to hand on that which has been already settled and defined requires no great depth or subtlety of intellect. If the weightiest matters on which the thoughts of man can be employed are already so determined by an outward oracle, that all judgment upon them is precluded, and the highest faculties of the human mind have no concern in establishing or confirming their truth, authority, as the weight which the opinion of the good and wise carries along with it, in regard to the most important questions, is superseded and set aside. And the fact is, I believe, that professors of this sort of Catholicity, whether for good or for bad, whether from narrowness or from exaltedness, are by no means remarkable for a spirit of respect towards highly endowed men, or for entering into the merits of a large proportion of those who have conciliated the esteem and gratitude of earnest and thoughtful persons. None are burning and shining lights for them except such as exclusively irradiate their own sphere (which is none of the widest); and their radiance appears the stronger to their eyes because they see nothing but darkness elsewhere. Let it be clearly understood that I here refer to that antiquarian theory, according to which every doctrine bearing upon religion, held by the Fathers, even though the matter of the doctrine be rather scientific and metaphysical than directly spiritual and practical,—as, for instance, the doctrine of free will,―constitutes Catholic consent, is the voice of the Holy Catholic Church, and, therefore, the voice of its heavenly Head; that the early Christian writers, where they agree, are to be considered practically infallible, on account of their external position in reference to the Apostles; that succeeding writers are of no authority, except so far as they deliver what is agreeable to "Catholic doctrine," so understood, and in so far as they differ from it are at once to be considered unsound and unworthy of attention. If such a theory is not, as I imagine, maintained by a certain class of High Churchmen, I shall be very glad to find that it is only a shadow; though in this case I should be more than ever perplexed to understand what it is that the Catholic and orthodox so much disapprove in

the opinion of my Father on the subject in question; or why he should be accused of disregarding authority, because, though he thought the consentient teaching of the early Christian writers worthy of deep consideration, he did not hold it to be absolutely conclusive upon theological questions, or certainly the voice of God. Something very different was, to his mind, implied in the promise of Christ to his Church; for without His presence in any special sense, as the life-giving Light, a fully developed system of doctrine, capable of being received implicitly, might have been transmitted from age to age. He saw the fulfilment of it, partly at least, in the power given to individual minds to be what the prophets were of old, by whom the Holy Ghost spake, religious instructors of their generation.*

Literature, liberally pursued, has no other bearing on a man's religious opinions than as it leaves him more at liberty to form them for himself than any other. Looking at the matter in another point of view, I readily admit that, so far as it is the want of any regular profession at all, it may be in some degree injurious to the man, and consequently to the thinker. But if a regular calling tends to steady the mind, restraining it from too tentative a direction of thought, and what may prove to be a vain activity, it tends, perhaps, in an equal degree to fix and petrify the spirit, of which I believe abundant evidence may be found in the writings of professional men. Perhaps there is no occupation which does not in some measure tend to disturb the balance of the soul; the want of one permits a man to commune

4 I find the same argument in Dr. Arnold's Fragment on the Church. He words it thus: "The promise of the Spirit of Truth to abide for ever with his Church, implies, surely, that clearer views of truth should be continually vouchsafed to us; and if the work were indeed fully complete when the Apostles entered into their rest, what need was there for the Spirit of Wisdom, as well as of Love, to be ever present even unto the end of the world?"

5 After speaking in warm eulogy, according to his wont, of S. T. C. Dr. Arnold says: "But yet there are marks enough that his mind was a little diseased by the want of a profession, and the consequent unsteadiness of his mind and purposes; it always seems to me, that the very power of contemplation becomes impaired or diverted, when it is made the main employment of life." See Arnold's Life and Correspondence, vol. ii, p 57.