heard his story; pitied his misfortune; and, finally, subscribed to purchase his discharge. Not very long after this, Coleridge became acquainted with the two Wedgwoods, both of whom, admiring his fine powers, subscribed to send him into North Germany, where, at the university of Göttingen, he completed his education according to his own scheme. The most celebrated professor whose lectures he attended, was the far-famed Blumenbach, of whom he continued to speak through life with almost filial reverence. Returning to England, he attended Mr. Thomas Wedgwood, as a friend, throughout the afflicting and anomalous illness which brought him to the grave. It was supposed by medical men that the cause of Mr. Wedgwood's continued misery was a stricture of some part in the intestines (the colon, it was believed.) The external symptoms were torpor and defective irritability, together with everlasting restlessness. By way of some relief to this latter symptom, Mr. Wedgwood purchased a travelling carriage, and wandered up and down England, taking Coleridge' as his companion. And, as a desperate attempt to rouse and irritate the decaying sensibility of his system, I have been assured by a surviving friend, that Mr. Wedgwood at one time opened a butcher's shop, conceiving that the affronts and disputes to which such a situation would expose him, might act beneficially upon his increasing torpor. This strange expedient served only to express the anguish which had now mastered his nature it was soon abandoned; and this accomplished but miserable man soon sank under his sufferings. made the case more memorable was the combination of worldly prosperity which had settled upon this gentleman. He was rich, young, generally beloved, distinguished for his scientific attainments, publicly honored for patriotic

What

services, and had before him, when he first fell ill, every prospect of a splendid and most useful career.

By the death of Mr. Wedgwood, Coleridge succeeded to a regular annuity of £75, which that gentleman had bequeathed to him. The other Mr. Wedgwood granted him an equal allowance. Now came his marriage, his connection with politics and political journals, his residence in various parts of Somersetshire, and his consequent introduction to Mr. Wordsworth. In his politics, Mr. Coleridge was most sincere and most enthusiastic. No man hailed with profounder sympathy the French Revolution; and though he saw cause to withdraw his regard from many of the democratic zealots in this country, and even from the revolutionary interest as it was subsequently conducted, he continued to worship the original revolutionary cause in a pure Miltonic spirit; and he continued also to abominate the policy of Mr. Pitt in a degree which I myself find it difficult to understand. The very spirited little poem of Fire, Famine, and Slaughter,' who are supposed to meet in conference, to describe their horrid triumphs, and then to ask in a whisper who it was that unchained them, to which each in turn replies,

'Letters four do form his name!'

expresses his horror of Mr. Pitt personally in a most extravagant shape, but merely for the purpose of poetic effect; for he had no real unkindness in his heart towards any human being; and I have often heard him disclaim the hatred which is here expressed for Mr. Pitt, as he did also very elaborately and earnestly in print. Somewhere about this time, Coleridge attempted, under Sheridan's countenance, to bring a tragedy upon the stage of Drury Lane; but his prospect of success, as I once heard or read, was suddenly marred by Mr. Sheridan's inability to

sacrifice what he thought a good jest. One scene presented a cave with streams of water weeping down the sides; and the first words were, in a sort of mimicry of the sound, Drip, drip, drip!' Upon which Sheridan repeated aloud, Drip, drip, drip!- why, God bless me, there's nothing here but dripping;' and so arose a chorus of laughter amongst the actors fatal to the probationary play.

CHAPTER VII.

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.

ABOUT the latter end of the century, Coleridge visited North Germany again, in company with Mr. and Miss Wordsworth. Their tour was chiefly confined to the Hartz forest and its neighborhood. But the incidents most worthy of remembrance in their excursion, was a visit made to Klopstock; whom they found either at Hamburgh or, perhaps, at the Danish town (as then it was) of Altona; for Klopstock was a pensioner of the Danish king. An anonymous writer, who attacked Coleridge most truculently in an early number of Blackwood, and with an acharnement that must astonish those who knew its object, has made the mistake of supposing Coleridge to have been the chief speaker, who did not speak at all. The case was this: Klopstock could not speak English, though everybody remembers the pretty broken English of his second wife. Neither Coleridge nor Wordsworth, on the other hand, spoke German with any fluency. French, therefore, was the only medium of free communication; that being pretty equally familiar to Wordsworth and to Klopstock. But Coleridge found so much difficulty even in reading French, that, wherever (as in the case of Leibnitz's Theodicée) there was a choice between an original written in French and a translation, though it might be a very faulty one, in Ger

man, he always preferred the latter. Hence, it happened that Wordsworth, on behalf of the English party, was the sole supporter of the dialogue. The anonymous critic says another thing, which certainly has an air of truth, viz., that Klopstock plays a very secondary role in the interview (or words to that effect.) But how was that to be avoided in reporting the case, supposing the fact to have been such? Now the plain truth is, that Wordworth, upon his own ground, is an incomparable talker; whereas, Klubstick (as Coleridge used to call him) was always a feeble and careless one. Besides, he was now old and decaying. Nor at any time, nor in any accomplishment, could Klopstock have shore, unless in the noble art of skating. Wordsworth did the very opposite of that with which he was taxed; for, happening to look down at Klopstock's swollen legs, and recollecting his age, he felt touched by a sort of filial pity for his helplessness. And upon another principle, which, in my judgment, Wordsworth is disposed to carry too far, viz., the forbearance, and the ceremonious caution which he habitually concedes to an established reputation, even where he believes it to have been built on a hollow foundation, — he came to the conclusion, that it would not seem becoming in a young, and as yet obscure author, to report faithfully the real superiority he too easily maintained in such a colloquy.

But neither had Klopstock the pretensions as a poet, which the Blackwood writer seems to take for granted. Germany, the truth is, wanted a great Epic poet. Not having produced one in that early condition of her literary soil when such a growth is natural and favored by circumstances, the next thing was to manufacture a substitute. The force of Coleridge's well known repartee when, in reply to a foreigner asserting that Klopstock was the German Milton, he said, 'True, sir; a very German

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