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that quacks in education, quacks in politics, and quacks in criti. cism were his only enemies."
14 It is not easy to estimate the effects which the example of a young man as highly distinguished for strict purity of disposition and conduct, as for intellectual power and literary acquirements, may produce on those of the same age with himself, especially on those of similar pursuits and congenial minds. For many years, my opportunities of intercourse with Mr. Southey have been rare, and at long intervals; but I dwell with unabated pleasure on the strong and sudden, yet I trust not fleeting, influence, which my moral being underwent on my acquaintance with him at Oxford, whither I had gone at the commencement of our Cambridye vacation on a visit to an old school-fellow.* Not indeed on my moral or religious principles, for they had never been contaminated ; but in awakening the sense of the duty and dignity of making my actions accord with those principles, both in word and deed. The irregularities only not universal among the young men of my standing, which I always knew to be wrong, I then learned to feel as degrading ; learned to know that an opposite-conduct, which was at that time considered by us as the easy virtue of cold and selfish prudence, might originate in the noblest emotions, in views the most disinterested and imaginative. It is not however from grateful recollections only, that I have been impelled thus to leave these my deliberate sentiments on record; but in some sense as a debt of justice to the man, whose name has been so often connected with mine for evil to which he is a stranger. As a specimen, I subjoin part of a note, from The Beauties of the Anti-jacobin, in which, having previously informed the public that I had been dishonored at Cambridge for preaching Deism, at a time when, for my youthful ardor in defence of Christianity, I was decried as a bigot by the proselytes of French phi- (or to speak more truly, psi-) losophy, the writer concludes with these words; "since this time he has left his native country, commenced citizen of the world, left his poor children fatherless, and his wife destitute. Ex his disce his friends, LAMB and SOUTHEY.”+ With severest truth it may be asserted, that it would not be easy to select two men more exemplary in their domestic affections than those whose names were thus printed at full length as in the same rank of morals with a denounced infidel and fugitive, who had left his children fatherless and his wife destitute! Is it surprising, that many good men remained longer than perhaps they otherwise would have done adverse to a party, which encouraged and openly rewarded the authors of such atrocious calumnies ? Qualis es, nescio ; sed per quales agis, scio et doleo.
* (Mr. Coleridge first became acquainted with Mr. Soathey, then an under-graduate at Balliol College, in June, 1794. Ed.]
t [of this now harınless injustice Mr. Talfourd speaks as follows, in his interesting scotch of the life, accompanying the delightful Letters of Charles Lamb.
“ It was surely rather too much, even for partisans when denouncing their political opponents,”-in the poem of the “New Morality" published in the " Anti-Jacobin"), -—" as men who dirt on private worth and virtue threw,' thus to slander two young inen of the most exemplary character-one of an almost puritanical exactness of demeanor and conduct—and the other persevering in a life of noble self sacrifice, chequered only by the frailties of a sweet nature, which endeared him even to those who were not admitted to the intimaey necessary to appreciate the touching example of his severer virtues." Vol. i., p. 120.
This passage I quote not, of course, for the sake of refuting The Anti-Jacobin of 1798, but for its warın testimony to the virtues of my father's friend, Mr. Lamb. Having quoted it, I cannot but observe, as regards the terms in which it speaks of Mr. Southey (my revered uncle), that his purity, a pureness of heart and spirit, far beyond any that mere exactitude of demeanor and conduct could didence or express, -was utterly unmixed, as to me it seems, with puritanisin, either in opinion or in spirit. May we not say that the deepest and most pervading purity is preclusive of puritanism? On this point ho might be favorably contrasted with Cowper, as well as honorably compared to him in moral strictness, and perhaps raised above him on the score of that deeper purity which is a nature rather than a principle.
of Mr. Lamb's character in this respect Mr. Coleridge gave a brief description which has been preserved in the specimens of his Table Talk. It was of Charles Lamb that he said, “ Nothing ever left a stain on that gentle creature's mind, which looked upon the degraded men and things around him like inoonshine on a dunghill, which shines and takes no pollution. All things are shadows to him, except those which move his affee tions." (P. 107, 911 edit.)
Some further account of Mr. Lamb will be found in the biographical supplement at the end of the second volume. S. C.]
The Lyrical Ballads with the Prece-Mr. Wordsworth's earlier poems
On Fancy and Imagination–The investigation of the distinction in. portant to the Fine Arts.
I HAVE wandered far from the object in view, but as I fancied to myself readers who would respect the feelings that had tempted me from the main road; so I dare calculate on not a few, who will warmly sympathize with them. At present it will be suffi. cient for my purpose, if I have proved, that Mr. Southey's writ. ings no more than my own furnished the original occasion to this fiction of a new school of poetry, and to the clamors against its supposed founders and proselytes.
As little do I believe that Mr. Wordsworth’s Lyrical Ballads were in themselves the cause. I speak exclusively of the two volumes so entitled. A careful and repeated examination of these confirms me in the belief, that the omission of less than a hundred lines would have precluded nine-tenths of the criticism on this work. I hazard this declaration, however, on the supposition, that the reader has taken it up, as he would have done any other collection of poems purporting to derive their subjects or interests from the incidents of domestic or ordinary life, intermingled with higher strains of meditation which the poet utters in his own person and character; with the proviso, that these poems were perused without knowledge of, or reference to, the author's peculiar opinions, and that the reader had not had his attention previously directed to those peculiarities. In that case, as actually happened with Mr. Southey's earlier works, the lines and passages which might have offended the general taste, would have been considered as mere inequalities, and attributed to inatten. tion, not to perversity of judgment. The men of business who
[See ante note, page 142. Ed.]
had passed their lives chiefly in cities, and who might therefore be expected to derive the highest pleasure from acute notices of men and manners conveyed in easy, yet correct and pointed language; and all those who, reading but little poetry, are most stimulated with that species of it, which seems most distant from prose, would probably have passed by the volumes altogether. Others more catholic in their taste, and yet habituated to be most pleased when most excited, would have contented themselves with deciding, that the author had been successful in proportion to the elevation of the style and subject. Not a few, perhaps, might, by their admiration of the Lines written near Tintern Abbey, on revisiting the Wye, those Left upon a Yew Tree Seat, The Old Cumberland Beggar, and Ruth, have been gradually led to peruse with kindred feeling The Brothers, the Hart-leap Well, and whatever other poems in that collection may be described as hold. ing a middle piace between those written in the highest and those in the humblest style: as for instance between the Tintern Abbey, and The Thorn, or Simon Lee.' Should their taste submit to no further change, and still remain unreconciled to the colloquial phrases, or the imitations of them, that are, more or less, scattered through the class last mentioned; yet even from the small number of the latter, they would have deemed them but an inconsiderable subtraction from the merit of the whole work ; or, what is sometimes not unpleasing in the publication of a new writer, as serving to ascertain the natural tendency, and consequently the proper direction of the author's genius.
In the critical remarks, therefore, prefixed and annexed to the Lyrical Ballads,' I believe, we may safely rest, as the true origin of the unexampled opposition which Mr. Wordsworth's writings have been since doomed to encounter. The humbler passages in the poems themselves were dwelt on and cited to justify the rejection of the theory. What in and for themselves would have been either forgotten or forgiven as imperfections, or at least comparative failures, provoked direct hostility when announced as in.
2 [The poems here mentioned are now found in the collected edition of Mr. Wordsworth's Works as follows:-II., p. 161; V., p. 7–p. 282; II., p. 106; I., p 109; II., p. 141_p. 124; V., p. 17. Ed.]
3 [This Preface, published in 1800, is now printed, II., p. 303. EJ.]
tentional, as the result of choice after full deliberation. Thus the poems, admitted by all as excellent, joined with those which had pleased the far greater number, though they formed twothirds of the whole work, instead of being deemed (as in all right they should have been, even if we take for granted that the reader judged aright) an atonement for the few exceptions, gave wind and fuel to the animosity against both the poems and the poet. In all perplexity there is a portion of fear, which predisposes the mind to anger. Not able to deny that the author possessed both genius and a powerful intellect, they felt very positive,-but yet were not quite certain that he might not be in the right, and they themselves in the wrong; an unquiet state of mind, which seeks alleviation by quarrelling with the occasion of it, and by wonder. ing at the perverseness of the man, who had written a long and argumentative essay to persuade them, that
Fair is foul, and foul is fair;
in other words, that they had been all their lives admiring withiout judgment, and were now about to censure without reason.'
• In opinions of long continuance, and in which we have never before been molested by a single doubt, to be suddenly convinced of an error, is almost like being convicted of a fault. There is a state of mind, which is the direct antithesis of that, which takes place when we make a bull. The bull namely consists in the bringing together two incompatible thoughts, with the sensation, but without the sense, of their connexion. The psychological condition, or that which constitutes the possibility, of this state, being such disproportionate vividness of two distant thoughts, as extinguishes or obscures the consciousness of the intermediate images or conceptions, or wholly abstracts the attention from them. Thus in the well known bull, “ I was a fine child, but they changed me;" the first conception expressed in the word “ 1,” is that of personal identity-Ego contemplans: the second expressed in the word “ me,” is the visual image or object by which the mind represents to itself its past condition, or rather, its personal identity under the form in which it imagined itself previously to have existed,-Ego contemplatus. Now the change of one visual image for another involves in itself no absurdity, and becomes absurd only by its immediate juxta-position with the first thought, which is rendered possible by the whole attention being successively absorbed in each singly, so as not to notice the interjacent notion, changed, which by its incongruity with the first thought, I, constitutes the bull. Add only, that this process is