"from that Burke, whose latter exertions have "rendered his works venerable as oracular voices 66 66 from the sepulchre of a patriarch, to the up"holders of the government and society in their existing state and order; but from a speech delivered by him while he was the most beloved, the proudest name with the more "anxious friends of liberty; while he was the "darling of those who, believing mankind to "have been improved, are desirous to give to "forms of government a similar progression. "From the same anxiety, I have been led to in"troduce my opinions on this most hazardous subject, by a preface of a somewhat personal “character. And though the title of my address "is general, yet, I own, I direct myself more particularly to those among my readers, who, from various printed and unprinted calumnies, have judged most unfavourably of my poli"tical tenets; and to those whose favour I have "chanced to win in consequence of a similar, 66 66 66 66 though not equal mistake. To both, I affirm, "that the opinions and arguments, I am about "to detail, have been the settled convictions of 66 my mind for the last ten or twelve years, with some brief intervals of fluctuation, and those only in lesser points, and known only to the 66 66 companions of my fire-side. From both and "from all my readers, I solicit a gracious atten"tion to the following explanations: first, on the 66 66 66 congruity of the following numbers, with the general plan and object of The Friend;' and secondly, on the charge of arrogance or pre"sumption, which may be adduced against the "author for the freedom, with which in these "numbers, and in others that will follow on "other subjects, he presumes to dissent from "men of established reputation, or even to doubt "of the justice, with which the public laurel crown, as symbolical of the first class of genius " and intellect, has been awarded to sundry wri"ters since the revolution, and permitted to wither " around the brows of our elder benefactors, from "Hooker to Sir P. Sidney, and from Sir P. "Sidney, to Jeremy Taylor and Stillingfleet." The work ceased at the 27th number, March 15th, 1810. As is usually the case when authors become their own publishers, there was a pecuniary loss; but as long as printing lasts, it must remain a record of his powers. Yet the critics, if critics they were worthy to be called, discovered only feebleness of mind, when in the attempt to make themselves acquainted with his principles, they professed, either through ignorance, or indolence, not to understand him. When his mental powers had so far advanced, he felt a conviction of the truth of the Triune power,* and at once saw * At this time all his writings were strongly tinctured with Platonism. that there was no important truth, in which this Triad was not contained. As ours was a constitutional government, composed of three great powers (of the three great estates of the realm, as Queen Elizabeth would say, the church, the nobles, and the commonalty,) when these, Coleridge observed, were exactly balanced, the government was in a healthy state, but excess in any one of these powers, disturbed the balance and produced disorder, which was attended by dissatisfaction and discord. A political writer, he laboured to maintain this balance; and when either power was threatened by any disturbance, threw in a counterweight, sometimes on one side and sometimes on another, as he, according to his philosophical opinions, thought they deserved either censure or praise. For this apparent fluctuation he was termed, by those men who never understood his principles, vacillating and inconsistent: but he cast his "bread upon the waters," and in due time it returned to him. There must come a time when the works of Coleridge will be fairly weighed against the agreeable time-killing publications of our day; works for which their frivolous authors have * Each party claimed him as their own; for party without principles must ever be shifting, and therefore they found his opinions sometimes in accordance with their own, and sometimes at variance. But he was of no party-his views were purely philosophical. 66 reaped an abundant harvest while this giant in literature gained scarcely a dwarf's portion. But Truth, though perhaps slowly, must finally prevail. Mr. Coleridge remarks, that for his own guidance he was greatly benefited by a resolve, which, in the antithetic and allowed quaintness of an adage or maxim he had been accustomed to word thus-" until you understand a writer's ignorance, presume yourself ignorant "of his understanding." This was for him a golden rule, and which, when he read the philosophical works of others, he applied most carefully to himself. If an unlearned individual takes up a book, and, on opening it, finds by certain characters that it is a book on Algebra, he modestly puts it down with perhaps an equally modest observation. "I never learned the Mathematics, and am ignorant of them: they are not suited to my taste, and I do not require them." But if perchance, he should take up a philosophical work, this modesty is not exercised though he does not comprehend it, he will not acknowledge the fact; he is piqued however, and not satisfied with a mere slighting observation, but often ends, as disappointed vanity usually does, in shallow abuse. The political, the critical, the philosophical views of Coleridge, were all grand, and from his philosophical views he never deviated; all fluctuating opinions rolled by him, not indeed un heeded, but observed with sympathy and with regret, when not founded on those permanent principles which were to benefit and give good government to man. Coleridge, it is well known, was no adept in matters of business, and so little skilled in ephemeral literature as not to be able to profit by any weekly publication. The first edition of The Friend was published weekly, on paper with the government stamp, and that reached, as before related, its twenty-seventh number. Such a work was not suited to his genius: in fact, no periodical which required rapid writing on slight amusing subjects, with punctuality in publication, which demanded steadiness of health, and the absence of those sedative causes arising, in part, from his benevolent heart and sensitive nature, ever would have suited him. To write like a novelist-to charm ennui-is that which is required of a modern author who expects pecuniary recompense. Although he needed such recompense, the character of his genius unfitted him for the attainment of it; and had he continued the work, the expenditure would have ended in still greater pecuniary loss. One of his last political essays is that taken from the Morning Post, of March 19, 1800, on the character of Pitt. * These * The character of Buonaparte was announced in the same paper. VOL. I. |
