The Sun.
London, England, 1834-08-23 00:00:00

RACES

LITERATURE.

Q UIiRTERL 1' REVIEW No. CIII. _London, 18 ,
We cannot but regret that the essay on the g
Of Coleridge did not appear in this ReJieS~', at least a
year f.anee. It might then have soothed the declinin
to
years, and imparted a cordial and refreshing gals'
the broken epirits of the living ; it can now btlt
the
coldly and unavailingly, to: gild the memory nf
om
dead. At the very time when it was being
without a
the very time when its author (and not
prove
show of justice) was tasking his h f _est _acuities to p
that Coleridge was one of the leading spirits 0
t.
age—famed for the lofty, enlightened tone of his
.p
8,
losophy—the purity, grace, and subtlety of his 11°the
gmation—the vast range of his scholarship, and
Object
full, ever-flowing stream-of his eloquence,—the
.sea
Writ:the
of all this eulogy was lying on his death-bed, °PPre' er
by poverty, oppressed by infirmities ; his secoetY.
his death a natter of perfect indifference to that ‘rnfr'ile
of which he was so undoubted an t.
ornamen . t
genius that should have disappeared likecome
luminary, rivetting all eyes on its movements, grew
and went out like a lamp in a deserted.temple7, been
however, that can now be done for Coleridge, .3 a
done in the essay before us, which is penned ',lna
cordial and eulogistic, but acute and discrimin'i
of
spirit. It treats of him in his two-fold capacitY;4,
philosopher and-poet, and in both finds abundant,
sons for wonder and admiration. Speaking of lion,
a talker—the pride.of the domestic circle—it 59cs; of
" Perhaps our readers may have heard repeated adso3n)colo•
e:
Mr. Wordsworth, that many men of this age had
derful things, as Davy, Scott, Cuvier, &c. ; but that
et" iag,
0,
ridge was the only wonderful man he ever knew. So
c,f course, must be allowed in this, as in all other such cases,
for
the antithesis ; but we believe the fact really to bo,
the greater part of those who have occasionally visited at
Coleridge; have left him with a feeling akin to the )ntigli.neore
indicated in the above remark. They admire the man;
than his works, or they forget the works in the absorbio,rhoso
pression made by the living author. And no wonder.
.1, ik
who remember him in his more vigorous days, can be:gsccer.
ness to the peculiarity and transcendant power of his e)„.013
sational eloquence. It was unlike anything that could beffleat,
elsewhere; the kind was different, the degree Sops di.p`ati6e
the manner was different: The boundless range of sc,tatioo,
knowledge, the brilliancy and exquisite nicety of ities"., sit;
the deep and ready reasoning, the strangeness and irli,llll,o
of bookish lore—were not all% the dramatic „story, tne,;cle'
the pun, the festivity, must be added--and with these t''t'brol'
rical-looking dress, the thick waving silver hair, the yo.u.k yet
coloured cheek, the indefinable mouth and lips, the cl, Icoll,-1
steady and penetrating greenish grey eye, the slow toa„.3,'
tinuous enunciation,_ and the everlasting music of his tri Pre'
went to make up the image, and to constitute the Ih'l9°
sence of the man." ^_
• 11
-1, it 11,
" Mr. Coleridge's conversation, it is true, has °o•
the brilliant versatility of his former years;yet wensP-c)nd
whether the contrast between his bodily weakne 51-0151 y
mental power does not leave a deeper and a merie,s,,i y 5 ill
affecting impression, than his most triumphant wsr 3010'
youth could ever have done. To see the pain-strickencier tit{
tenance relax, and the contracted frame dilate hies
kindling of intellectual fire alone—to watch the inn/tire"
the flesh shrinking out of sight, orglorified and trans, o'bject
in the brightness of the awakening s irit—is an awftl; .101:
of contemplation ; and in no other person did we ecle. 'Oc
siieh a distinction,—nay, alienation of mind from bu"Yrores'.
a mastery of the purely intellectual over the purely c°,ror• b 1:
as in the instance of this remarkable man. 131iit -foruir
conversation is characterised by all the essentials of its allts'
excellence ; there 's the same individuality, the sefne
pectedness, the same universal grasp ' • nothing i 5 fro
nothing too low for it: it glances from earth to lleP*e- ' "
and
heaven to earth, with a speed and a splendour, an ease
power, which almost seem inspired. •
,e
a a a ift 00,,r
" You could not in all London or England hear:avers',
fluent, a more brilliant, a more exquisitely elegafindloll
than Sir James Mackintosh ; nor could you ever
,;
provided. • But, somehow or other, it always seetne,"' ;;: of
tile sharp and brilliant things he said were pouree 0,, 01
many vials filled and labelled for the particular occie $ll,
struck us, to use a figure, as if his mind were an sfil;
well-arranged hortus siccus, from which you might
mens of every kind of plant, but all of them cut and —alc ot'f
store. You rarely saw nature working at the very inject
him. With Coleridge it was and still is otherwise. ytrl
be slower, more rambling, less pertinent ;he may f°,°.r
at the instant as so eloquent ; but then, what he br'-',:re re
is fresh coined ; his flowers are newly gathered, they; gof
with dew, and, if you please, you may almost see tile'.
ing in the rich garden of his
mind." ficolsrt
This is eloquently said ; the allusion, in Par`
egbr
to the flowers of Coleridg.e's fancy, being ,"t3
kited, when " newly gathered and wet with de
`,e
as correct and poetic an illustration of his 6°l,
tional powers as we ever met with. We do net' f
ever, agree with the reviewer in his estimate ofi,jolit
" Remorse." So far from this tragedy bearing in a-ait it •
scene the slightest resemblance to Shakespeare't;
his very antipodes. The plot flags through°,ll,
deed, in many places it stands stock-still, wi`"11;0115
ft Cog t
set?
passion is overlaid and buried beneath
weight of metaphysics. The characters (IQ 11,1•„e5
they- merely declaim ;. they are perpetuallyrt
what they will do, but we find at the fail of the 04'
that they have found time to do little or no 0
Again, with the sole exception of Ordollin' the}'
gives us here and there a glimmering of passtelo's
are all abstract beings; not bodily visible befereprsoll
the creations of Shakspeare, but dim, vague, in'Petlicris:
lions of the fancy in its subtlest, and 'most i 5 1011I'
mood. As a love-poet, however, Coleridge
liter
willed. There is nothing in ancient or mndertis'i's.
i th
her
tune that can bear a moment's comparison
o 1
Genevieve." In this perfect poem we know .1' •ts 41, •
most to admire—its picturesque descriptioo;odliori
locality—the sculpture-like precision of its. vis,jet
—or its artful, exquisite blending of the SPrillevie'
the •voluptuous. We are surprised that therio'ierieg
„-
has passed by this poem in silence. It is '-'etv
chcf-d'oeuvre, and that by which he will be 0(11r
bered, when the physical grossness of SaPPh°'
sickly conceits of Little are forgotten. •
1,9
. " History of Roman Literature" furnishes the
very fair sketch of its rise and progress frl
of rough old Ennius down to the more
Virgil. The Reviewer, we think, underrates. 'sipiajoi
who, if he have not all the elegaot :'nhilesse-r
of Terence, has a breadth, and force, and rs' toad
humour to which the latter was a stranger.
would ever think of falling asleep over the It; eqie,r,,r
with its amusing Sosias ; but many a one 113 et°
e
enced a sound nap over the Andria. `-' n 11ereoc
excellence, at least, Plautus possesses over 01°-
v
f
and that is, in his bullies, who are as full of 9
ft
fun as the Pistols, Bobadils, and Bluff'.toe,(
speare, Ben Johnson, or Congreve. Of °'idisl,ti
cannot but think, the Reviewer sneaks w°
.``e
ingly. So far from his style beingi markedbYilabled,f
minate monotony," the Metamoriloses--biseptli°o
work—are full of the most varied and
Ulvsse'tell!
pauses. In the contest between Ajax aims is 1e,4
the arms of Achilles, the versification
and majestic to a decree ; in. the story to 'it,'
and Alcyone—which gives the lie direct hocl
ovid
and they are many, who say that i'cit,"
..lin,' 5,
pathos,—it is characterised by uniform Si' .1 till V
„,,core
in that fine didactic discourse on the PYta'-' p°s" y
tem, as flowing, easy, and vigorous, as 't • act' h
Cie e`
.for Latin poetry to be. In his sketch of stihi r
with his tiai
Reviewer shows a perfect acquaintance oollo_4
and also that he has read Middleton's life 10!
" Campbell's Life of Mrs. Biddons ,
truculent attack on the biographical n'erlet;elds'
Bard of Hope. Poor Campbell. is not n 12° I,e
demned and ridiculed ; he is actually sea' yec
,orel,'
hawked—tied to a stake and tortured •
Reviewer is unnecessarily acrimoniou bovo s „...er
aitl,ou
" The Present State of France,
and discoloured by party bile, cannot be.l'
also
icatute,
interest. It is a most amusing ear artietv
good as one by B. Of the remaining, „. e•
• a that e°`l
must content ourselves with saying •
lent of its kind, and that, on the whole, the
the best that has appeared this year.