that generous contempt of money, which you show me in the whole transaction, is really noble;—and what renders it more so, is the principle of it-the workings of a parent's love upon the truth and conviction of this very hypothesis, namely, that were your son called Judas,—the sordid and treacherous idea, so inseparable from the name, would have accompanied him through life like his shadow, and in the end made a miser and a rascal of him, in spite, Sir, of your example." Vol. i. c. 19. 6. There is great physiognomic tact in Sterne. See it particularly displayed in his description of Dr. Slop, accompanied with all that happiest use of drapery and attitude, which at once give reality by individualizing and vividness by unusual, yet probable, combinations : Imagine to yourself a little squat uncourtly figure of a Doctor Slop, of about four feet and a half perpendicular height, with a breadth of back, and a sesquipedality of belly, which might have done honor to a sergeant in the horseguards. Imagine such a one;—for such, I say, were the outlines of Doctor Slop's figure, coming slowly along, foot by foot, waddling through the dirt upon the vertebra of a little diminutive pony, of a pretty color-but of strengthalack! scarce able to have made an amble of it, under such a fardel, had the roads been in an ambling condition:-they were not. Imagine to yourself Obadiah mounted upon a strong monster of a coach-horse, pricked into a full gallop, and making all practicable speed the adverse way. Vol. ii. c. 9. 7. I think there is more humor in the single remark, which I have quoted before-" Learned men, brother Toby, don't write dialogues upon long noses for nothing!"-than in the whole Slawkenburghian tale that follows, which is mere oddity interspersed with drollery. 8. Note Sterne's assertion of, and faith in a moral good in the characters of Trim, Toby, &c. as contrasted with the cold skepticism of motives which is the stamp of the Jacobin spirit. Vol. v. c. 9. 9. You must bear in mind, in order to do justice to Rabelais and Sterne, that by right of humoristic universality each part is essentially a whole in itself. Hence the digressive spirit is not mere wantonness, but in fact the very form and vehicle of their genius. The connection, such as was needed, is given by the continuity of the characters. Instances of different forms of wit, taken largely: 1. "Why are you reading romances at your age?"-" Why, I used to be fond of history, but I have given it up-it was so grossly improbable.” 2. "Pray, sir, do it!—although you have promised me." 3. The Spartan mother's "Return with, or on, thy shield." 66 "My sword is too short!"—"Take a step forwarder." 4. The Gasconade : I believe you, Sir! but you will excuse my repeating it on account of my provincial accent." 5. Pasquil on Pope Urban, who had employed a committee to rip up the old errors of his predecessors. Some one placed a pair of spurs on the heels of the statue of St. Peter, and a label from the opposite statue of St. Paul, on the same bridge : St. Paul. "Whither then are you bound?" St. Peter. "I apprehend danger here;—they'll soon call me in question for denying my Master." St. Paul. "Nay, then, I had better be off too; for they'll question me for having persecuted the Christians, before my conversion." 6. Speaking of the small German potentates, I dictated the phrase-officious for equivalents. This my amanuensis wrotefishing for elephants;-which, as I observed at the time, was a sort of Noah's angling, that could hardly have occurred, except at the commencement of the Deluge. LECTURE X. DONNE-DANTE-MILTON-PARADISE LOST. DONNE.* Born in London, 1573.-Died, 1631. I. With Donne, whose muse on dromedary trots, II. See lewdness and theology combin'd,— A cynic and a sycophantic mind; A fancy shar'd party per pale between Death's heads and skeletons, and Aretine!— Not his peculiar defect or crime, But the true current mintage of the time. THE wit of Donne, the wit of Butler, the wit of Pope, the wit of Congreve, the wit of Sheridan-how many disparate things are here expressed by one and the same word, Wit!—Wonderexciting vigor, intenseness and peculiarity of thought, using at will the almost boundless stores of a capacious memory, and exercised on subjects, where we have no right to expect it-this is *Nothing remains of what was said on Donne in this Lecture. Here, therefore, as in previous like instances, the gap is filled up with some notes written by Mr. Coleridge in a volume of Chalmer's Poets, belonging to Mr. Gillman. The verses were added in pencil to the collection of commendatory lines; No. I. is Mr. C.'s; the publication of No. II. I trust the all-accomplished author will, under the circumstances, pardon. Numerous and elaborate notes by Mr. Coleridge on Donne's Sermons are in existence, and will be published hereafter.-Ed. the wit of Donne! The four others I am just in the mood to describe and inter-distinguish ;-what a pity that the marginal space will not let me ! My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, Good-Morrow, v. 15, &c. The sense is:-Our mutual loves may in many respects be fitly compared to corresponding hemispheres; but as no simile squares (nihile simile est idem), so here the simile fails, for there is nothing in our loves that corresponds to the cold north, or the declining west, which in two hemispheres must necessarily be supposed. But an ellipse of such length will scarcely rescue the line from the charge of nonsense or a bull. January, 1829. And see at night thy western land of mine, &c. Progress of the Soul, 1 Song, 2 st. This use of the word mine specifically for mines of gold, silver, or precious stones, is, I believe, peculiar to Donne. DANTE Born at Florence, 1265.-Died, 1321. As I remarked in a former Lecture on a different subject (for subjects the most diverse in literature have still their tangents), the Gothic character, and its good and evil fruits, appeared less in Italy than in any other part of European Christendom. There was accordingly much less romance, as that word is commonly understood; or, perhaps, more truly stated, there was romance instead of chivalry. In Italy, an earlier imitation of, and a more evident and intentional blending with, the Latin literature took place than elsewhere. The operation of the feudal system, too, was incalculably weaker, of that singular chain of independent interdependents, the principle of which was a confederacy for the preservation of individual, consistently with general, freedom. In short, Italy, in the time of Dante, was an after-birth of eldest Greece, a renewal or a reflex of the old Italy under its kings and first Roman consuls, a net-work of free little republics, with the same domestic feuds, civil wars, and party spirit—the same vices and virtues produced on a similarly narrow theatre-the existing state of things being, as in all small democracies, under the working and direction of certain individuals, to whose will even the laws were swayed;-whilst at the same time the singular spectacle was exhibited amidst all this confusion of the flourishing of commerce, and the protection and encouragement of letters and arts. Never was the commercial spirit so well reconciled to the nobler principles of social polity as in Florence. It tended there to union and permanence and elevation-not as the overbalance of it in England is now doing, to dislocation, change and moral degradation. The intensest patriotism reigned in these communities, but confined and attached exclusively to the small locality of the patriot's birth and residence; whereas in the true Gothic feudalism, country was nothing but the preservation of personal independence. But then, on the other hand, as a counterbalance to these disuniting elements, there was in Dante's Italy, as in Greece, a much greater uniformity of religion common to all than amongst the northern nations. Upon these hints the history of the republican æras of ancient Greece and modern Italy ought to be written. There are three kinds or stages of historic narrative;-1. that of the annalist or chronicler, who deals merely in facts and events arranged in order of time, having no principle of selection, no plan of arrangement, and whose work properly constitutes a supplement to the poetical writings of romance or heroic legends:-2. that of the writer who takes his stand on some moral point, and selects a series of events for the express purpose of illustrating it, and in whose hands the narrative of the selected events is modified by the principle of selection ;-as Thucydides, whose object was to describe the evils of democratic and aristocratic partisanships;— or Polybius, whose design was to show the social benefits resulting from the triumph and grandeur of Rome, in public institu |