"with Shirley and Otway, soon after the Resto"ration of Charles the Second.

"VIII. Of the Life and all the Works of CER"VANTES, 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 principal 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 Constituents 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 magi"cians of asiatic origin. The probable sources

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of the former, and of the belief in them in "certain ages and classes of men. Criteria by "which mistaken and exaggerated facts may be

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distinguished from absolute falsehood and im"posture. Lastly, the causes of the terror and "interest which stories of ghosts and witches

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inspire, in early life at least, whether believed

" or not.

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"XIII. On colour, sound, and form, in nature, "as connected with POESY: the word, 'Poesy' "used as the generic or class term, including poetry, music, painting, statuary, and ideal architecture, as its species. The reciprocal re"lations 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."

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4.6

4.6

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 accumulated waters pass 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 me

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mory is of two kinds," (a division I have ever

found useful), "the one kind I designate the passive 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. 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."

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Coleridge, as a motto to the first essay in The Friend, quotes the following observation from the life of Petrarch: "Believe me," says this writer, “it requires no little confidence to promise help to the struggling, counsel to the doubtful, light to the blind, hope to the desponding, refreshment to the weary; these are great things if they are accomplished, trifles if they exist but in promise. I, however, aim not so much to prescribe a law for others, as to set forth the law of my own mind." At this Coleridge always aimed, and continuing the quotation from Petrarch, "Let the man who shall approve of it, abide, and let him to whom it shall uppear not reasonable, reject it. 'Tis my earnest wish, I confess, to employ my understanding and acquirements in that mode and direction in which I may be able to benefit the largest number possible of my fellow

creatures." Such was Coleridge's wish, and with this view, and with this end, he constantly employed his time.

His mind was occupied with serious thoughts -thoughts connected with the deep truths he was endeavouring to inculcate. His heart was from his early youth full of sympathy and love, and so remained till his latest hour. To his friend, when in trouble or sorrow, this sympathy and solace were freely given; and when he received, or thought he received, a benefit, or a kindness, his heart overflowed with gratitudeeven slight services were sometimes over-valued by him. I have selected the following from among many letters written at different periods, as characteristic of the man, and evincing those religious, grateful, and affectionate feelings which are so strongly marked in all he has ever written, for, from his youth upward, he was wedded to the lovely and the beautiful. In his letters, these feelings were occasionally expressed with much liveliness, terseness, and originality.

In doing this, I believe, I must anticipate some of the incidents of his life; the first letter written was addressed to a friend, who was in great anguish of mind from the sudden death of his mother, and was written thirty years before his decease :

"Your letter, my friend, struck me with a