Coleridge had a great abhorrence of vice, and Spinoza having, in his writings, strongly marked its debasing effects, he was from sympathy on these points led to study his philosophy: but when on further research, he discovered that his ethics led to Pantheism and ended in the denial of the Deity--he abandoned these views, and gave up the study of Spinoza. Perhaps the contemplation of such writers led him to compose the following lines:

But some there are who deem themselves most free, When they within this gross and visible sphere Chain down the winged thought, scoffing ascent, Proud in their meanness: and themselves they cheat With noisy emptiness of learned phrase, Their subtle fluids, impacts, essences, Self-working tools, uncaused effects, and all Those blind Omniscients, those Almighty slaves, Untenanting creation of its G.o.d.

SIBYLLINE LEAVES--('Destiny of Nations'.)

The errors of this writer, however, as before observed, produced this great advantage; he recommenced his studies with greater care and increased ardour, and in the Gospel of St. John, discovered the truth--the truth, as Wordsworth powerfully sings,

"That flashed upon that inward eye, Which is the bliss of solitude."

Having now discovered in the Scriptures this truth, to him at that time new and important, he pursued his philosophical researches--continually finding what he sought for in the one, borne out and elucidated by the other.

After he had corrected the proof sheets of the 'Christabel', the 'Sibylline Leaves', and the 'Biographia Literaria'; they were brought to London, and published by Rest Fenner, Paternoster Row. [11]

One of those periodical distresses, which usually visit this country about once in nine years, took place about this time, 1816,--and he was in consequence requested by his publisher to write on the subject. He therefore composed two Lay Sermons, addressed to the higher and to the middle cla.s.ses of society, and had the intention of addressing a third to the lower cla.s.ses. The first sermon he named "the Statesman's Manual, or the Bible the best guide to political skill and foresight." The pamphlet was as might have been expected, "cut up." He was an unpopular writer on an unpopular subject. Time was, when reviews directed the taste of the reading public, now, on the contrary, they judge it expedient to follow it.

But it may be well to place before the reader the expression of Coleridge's own feelings, written after these several attacks, it may also serve to show the persecution to which he was liable:

"I published a work a large portion of which was professedly metaphysical. (First Lay Sermon.) [12]

A delay," said he, "occurred between its first annunciation and its appearance; and it was reviewed by antic.i.p.ation with a malignity, so avowedly and so exclusively personal, as is, I believe, unprecedented even in the present contempt of all common humanity that disgraces and endangers the liberty of the press. 'After' its appearance the author of this lampoon was chosen to review it in the Edinburgh Review: and under the single condition, that he should have written what he himself really thought, and have criticised the work as he would have done had its author been indifferent to him, I should have chosen that man myself, both from the vigour and the originality of his mind, and from his particular acuteness in speculative reasoning, before all others. But I can truly say, that the grief with which I read this rhapsody of predetermined insult, had the rhapsodist himself for its whole and sole object: and that the indignant contempt which it excited in me was as exclusively confined to his employer and suborner. I refer to this Review at present, in consequence of information having been given me, that the innuendo of my 'potential infidelity,' grounded on one pa.s.sage of my first Lay Sermon, has been received and propagated with a degree of credence, of which I can safely acquit the originator of the calumny. I give the sentences as they stand in the Sermon, premising only that I was speaking exclusively of miracles worked for the outward senses of men. It was only to overthrow the usurpation exercised in and through the senses, that the senses were miraculously appealed to. REASON AND RELIGION ARE THEIR OWN EVIDENCE. The natural sun is in this respect a symbol of the spiritual: Ere he is fully arisen, and while his glories are still under veil, he calls up the breeze to chase away the usurping vapours of the night season, and thus converts the air itself into the minister of its own purification: not surely in proof or elucidation of the light from heaven, but to prevent its interception. Wherever, therefore, similar circ.u.mstances coexist with the same moral causes, the principles revealed, and the examples recorded, in the inspired writings, render miracles superfluous: and if we neglect to apply truths in the expectation of wonders, or under pretext of the cessation of the latter, we tempt G.o.d and merit the same reply which our Lord gave to the Pharisees on a like occasion.'

In the sermon and the notes both the historical truth and the necessity of the miracles are strongly and frequently a.s.serted. 'The testimony of books of history (namely, relatively to the signs and wonders with which Christ came,) is one of the strong and stately 'pillars' of the church; but it is not the 'foundation'.' Instead, therefore, of defending myself, which I could easily effect by a series of pa.s.sages, expressing the same opinion, from the fathers and the most eminent protestant divines, from the Reformation to the Revolution, I shall merely state what my belief is, concerning the true evidences of Christianity.

1st. Its consistency with right reason, I consider as the outer court of the temple, the common area within which it stands.

2ndly. The miracles, with and through which the religion was first revealed and attested, I regard as the steps, the vestibule, the portal of the temple.

3rdly. The sense, the inward feeling, in the soul of each believer, of its exceeding 'desirableness'--the experience, that he 'needs'

something, joined with the strong foretokening, that the redemption and the graces propounded to us in Christ are 'what' he needs--this I hold to be the true foundation of the spiritual edifice.

With the strong 'a priori' probability that flows in from 1 and 3, on the correspondent historical evidence of 2, no man can refuse or neglect to make the experiment without guilt. But,

4thly, it is the experience derived from a practical conformity to the conditions of the gospel--it is the opening eye; the dawning light; the terrors and the promises of spiritual growth; the blessedness of loving G.o.d as G.o.d, the nascent sense of sin hated as sin, and of the incapability of attaining to either without Christ; it is the sorrow that still rises up from beneath, and the consolation that meets it from above; the bosom treacheries of the princ.i.p.al in the warfare, and the exceeding faithfulness and long-suffering of the uninterested ally;--in a word, it is the actual _trial_ of the faith in Christ, with its accompaniments and results, that must form the arched roof, and the faith itself is the completing keystone. In order to an efficient belief in Christianity, a man must have been a Christian, and this is the seeming argumentum in circulo, incident to all spiritual truths, to every subject not presentable under the forms of time and s.p.a.ce, as long as we attempt to master by the reflex acts of the understanding, what we can only 'know' by the act of 'becoming'.

'Do the will of my Father, and ye shall know whether I am of G.o.d.'

These four evidences I believe to have been, and still to be, for the world, for the whole church, all necessary, all equally necessary; but that at present, and for the majority of Christians born in Christian countries, I believe the third and the fourth evidences to be the most operative, not as superseding, but as involving a glad undoubting faith in the two former. Credidi, ideoque intellexi, appears to me the dictate equally of philosophy and religion, even as I believe redemption to be the antecedent of sanctification, and not its consequent. All spiritual predicates may be construed indifferently as modes of action, or as states of being. Thus holiness and blessedness are the same idea, now seen in relation to act, and now to existence."

Biog. Liter. Vol. ii. p. 303.

His next publication was the 'Zapolya', which had a rapid sale, and he then began a second edition of the 'Friend'--if, indeed, as he observes,

"a work, the greatest part of which is new in substance, and the whole in form and arrangement, can be described as an edition of the former."

At the end of the autumn of 1817, Coleridge issued the following prospectus, and hoped by delivering the proposed lectures to increase his utility; they required efforts indeed which he considered it a duty to make, notwithstanding his great bodily infirmities, and the heartfelt sorrow by which he had, from early life, been more or less oppressed:--

"There are few families, at present, in the higher and middle cla.s.ses of English society, in which literary topics and the productions of the Fine Arts, in some one or other of their various forms, do not occasionally take their turn in contributing to the entertainment of the social board, and the amus.e.m.e.nt of the circle at the fire-side.

The acquisitions and attainments of the intellect ought, indeed, to hold a very inferior rank in our estimation, opposed to moral worth, or even to professional and specific skill, prudence, and industry.

But why should they be opposed, when they may be made subservient merely by being subordinated? It can rarely happen that a man of social disposition; altogether a stranger to subjects of taste (almost the only ones on which persons of both s.e.xes can converse with a common interest), should pa.s.s through the world without at times feeling dissatisfied with himself. The best proof of this is to be found in the marked anxiety which men, who have succeeded in life without the aid of these accomplishments, shew in securing them to their children. A young man of ingenuous mind will not wilfully deprive himself of any species of respect. He will wish to feel himself on a level with the average of the society in which he lives, though he may be ambitious of 'distinguishing' himself only in his own immediate pursuit or occupation.

Under this conviction, the following Course of Lectures was planned.

The several t.i.tles will best explain the particular subjects and purposes of each; but the main objects proposed, as the result of all, are the two following:

I. To convey, in a form best fitted to render them impressive at the time, and remembered afterwards, rules and principles of sound judgment, with a kind and degree of connected information, such as the hearers, generally speaking, cannot be supposed likely to form, collect, and arrange for themselves, by their own una.s.sisted studies.

It might be presumption to say, that any important part of these Lectures could not be derived from books; but none, I trust, in supposing, that the same information could not be so surely or conveniently acquired from such books as are of commonest occurrence, or with that quant.i.ty of time and attention which can be reasonably expected, or even wisely desired, of men engaged in business and the active duties of the world.

II. Under a strong persuasion that little of real value is derived by persons in general from a wide and various reading; but still more deeply convinced as to the actual 'mischief' of unconnected and promiscuous reading, and that it is sure, in a greater or less degree, to enervate even where it does not likewise inflate; I hope to satisfy many an ingenuous mind, seriously interested in its own development and cultivation, how moderate a number of volumes, if only they be judiciously chosen, will suffice for the attainment of every wise and desirable purpose: that is, 'in addition' to those which he studies for specific and professional purposes. It is saying less than the truth to affirm, that an excellent book (and the remark holds almost equally good of a Raphael as of a Milton) is like a well-chosen and well-tended fruit-tree. Its fruits are not of one season only. With the due and natural intervals, we may recur to it year after year, and it will supply the same nourishment and the same gratification, if only we ourselves return with the same healthful appet.i.te.

The subjects of the Lectures are indeed very 'different', but not (in the strict sense of the term) 'diverse': they are 'various', rather than 'miscellaneous'. There is this bond of connexion common to them all,--that the mental pleasure which they are calculated to excite is not dependant on accidents of fashion, place or age, or the events or the customs of the day; but commensurate with the good sense, taste, and feeling, to the cultivation of which they themselves so largely contribute, as being all in 'kind', though not all in the same 'degree', productions of GENIUS.

What it would be arrogant to promise, I may yet be permitted to hope,--that the execution will prove correspondent and adequate to the plan. a.s.suredly my best efforts have not been wanting so to select and prepare the materials, that, at the conclusion of the Lectures, an attentive auditor, who should consent to aid his future recollection by a few notes taken either during each Lecture or soon after, would rarely feel himself, for the time to come, excluded from taking an intelligent interest in any general conversation likely to occur in mixed society.

S.T. COLERIDGE."

SYLLABUS OF THE COURSE.

LECTURE I. 'Tuesday Evening, January' 27, 1818.--On the manners, morals, literature, philosophy, religion, and the state of society in general, in European Christendom, from the eighth to the fifteenth century (that is, from A.D. 700 to A.D. 1400), more particularly in reference to England, France, Italy, and Germany: in other words, a portrait of the (so called) dark ages of Europe.

II. On the tales and metrical romances common, for the most part, to England, Germany, and the North of France; and on the English songs and ballads; continued to the reign of Charles the First.--A few selections will be made from the Swedish, Danish, and German languages, translated for the purpose by the Lecturer.

III. Chaucer and Spenser; of Petrarch; of Ariosto, Pulci, and Boiardo.

IV. V. and VI. On the Dramatic Works of SHAKSPEARE. In these Lectures will be comprised the substance of Mr. Coleridge's former Courses on the same subject, enlarged and varied by subsequent study and reflection.

VII. On Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, and Ma.s.singer; with the probable causes of the cessation of Dramatic 'Poetry' in England with Shirley and Otway, soon after the Restoration of Charles the Second.

VIII. Of the Life and 'all' the Works of CERVANTES, but chiefly of his Don Quixote. The Ridicule of Knight-Errantry shewn to have been but a secondary object in the mind of the Author, and not the princ.i.p.al Cause of the Delight which the Work continues to give in all Nations, and under all the Revolutions of Manners and Opinions.

IX. On Rabelais, Swift, and Sterne: on the Nature and Const.i.tuents of genuine Humour, and on the Distinctions of the Humorous from the Witty, the Fanciful, the Droll, the Odd, &c.

X. Of Donne, Dante, and Milton.

XI. On the Arabian Nights Entertainments, and on the 'romantic' use of the supernatural in Poetry, and in works of fiction not poetical. On the conditions and regulations under which such Books may be employed advantageously in the earlier Periods of Education.

XII. On tales of witches, apparitions, &c. as distinguished from the magic and magicians of asiatic origin. The probable sources of the former, and of the belief in them in certain ages and cla.s.ses of men.

Criteria by which mistaken and exaggerated facts may be distinguished from absolute falsehood and imposture. Lastly, the causes of the terror and interest which stories of ghosts and witches inspire, in early life at least, whether believed or not.

XIII. On colour, sound, and form, in nature, as connected with POESY: the word, 'Poesy' used as the 'generic' or cla.s.s term, including poetry, music, painting, statuary, and ideal architecture, as its species. The reciprocal relations of poetry and philosophy to each other; and of both to religion, and the moral sense.

XIV. On the corruptions of the English language since the reign of Queen Anne, in our style of writing prose. A few easy rules for the attainment of a manly, unaffected, and pure language, in our genuine mother-tongue, whether for the purposes of writing, oratory, or conversation. Concluding Address."

These lectures, from his own account, were the most profitable of any he had before given, though delivered in an unfavorable situation; but being near the Temple, many of the students were his auditors. It was the first time I had ever heard him in public. He lectured from notes, which he had carefully made; yet it was obvious, that his audience was more delighted when, putting his notes aside, he spoke extempore;--many of these notes were preserved, and have lately been printed in the Literary Remains. In his lectures he was brilliant, fluent, and rapid; his words seemed to flow as from a person repeating with grace and energy some delightful poem. If, however, he sometimes paused, it was not for the want of words, but that he was seeking the most appropriate, or their most logical arrangement.

The attempts to copy his lectures verbatim have failed, they are but comments. Scarcely in anything could he be said to be a mannerist, his mode of lecturing was his own. Coleridge's eloquence, when he gave utterance to his rich thoughts, flowing like some great river, which winds its way majestically at its own "sweet will," though occasionally slightly impeded by a dam formed from its crumbling banks, but over which the acc.u.mulated waters pa.s.s onward with increased force, so arrested his listeners, as at times to make them feel almost breathless.

Such seemed the movement of Coleridge's words in lecture or in earnest discourse, and his countenance retained the same charms of benignity, gentleness, and intelligence, though this expression varied with the thoughts he uttered, and was much modified by his sensitive nature. His quotations from the poets, of high character, were most feelingly and most luminously given, as by one inspired with the subject. In my early intimacy with this great man, I was especially struck with the store of knowledge he possessed, and on which I ever found one might safely rely.

I begged him to inform me by what means the human mind could retain so much, to which he always gave the following answer:

"The memory is of two kinds," (a division I have ever found useful), "the one kind I designate the pa.s.sive memory, the other the creative, with the first I retain the names of 'things', 'figures', and 'numbers', &c. and this in myself I believe to be very defective. With the other I recall facts, and theories, &c. by means of their law or their principle, and in tracing these, the images or facts present themselves to me."