At the house of Klopstock, brother of the poet, he saw a portrait of Lessing, which he thus describes to the Public. "His eyes were uncommonly like mine! if any thing, rather larger and more prominent! But the lower part of his face! and his nose -O what an exquisite expression of elegance and sensibility! He then gives a long account of his interview with Klopstock the Poet, in which he makes that great man talk in a very silly, weak, and ignorant manner. Mr Coleridge not only sets him right in all his opinions on English literature, but also is kind enough to correct, in a very authoritative and dictatorial tone, his erroneous views of the characteristic merits and defects of the most celebrated German Writers. He has indeed the ball in his own hands throughout the whole game; and Klopstock, who, he says, was seventy-four years old, with legs enormously swollen," is beaten to a standstill. We are likewise presented with an account of a conversation which his friend W. held with the German Poet, in which the author of the Messiah makes a still more paltry figure. We can conceive nothing more odious and brutal, than two young ignorant lads from Cambridge forcing themselves upon the retirement of this illustrious old man, and, instead of listening with love, admiration, and reverence, to his sentiments and opinions, insolently obtruding upon him their own crude and mistaken fancies, contradicting imperiously every thing he advances, taking leave of him with a consciousness of their own superiority,—and, finally, talking of him and his genius in terms of indifference bordering on contempt. This Mr W. had the folly and the insolence to say

to Klopstock, who was enthusiastically praising the Oberon of Wieland, that he never could see the smallest beauty in any part of that Poem.

We must now conclude our account

of this " unaccountable" production. It has not been in our power to enter into any discussion with Mr Coleridge on the various subjects of Poetry and Philosophy, which he has, we think, vainly endeavoured to elucidate.

But we shall, on a future occasion, meet him on his own favourite ground. No less than 182 pages of the second volume are dedicated to the poetry of Mr Wordsworth. He has endeavoured to define poetry-to explain the philosophy of metre-to settle the boundaries of poetic diction -and to shew, finally, "what it is probable Mr Wordsworth meant to say in his dissertation prefixed to his Lyrical Ballads., As Mr Coleridge has not only studied the laws of poetical composition, but is a Poet of considerable powers, there are, in this part of his Book, many acute, ingenious, and even sensible observations and remarks; but he never knows when to have done,-explains what requires no explanation,-often leaves touched the very difficulty he starts,

un

and when he has poured before us a glimpse of light upon the shapeless form of some dark conception, he seems to take a wilful pleasure in its immediate extinction, and leads "us floundering on, and quite astray," through the deepening shadows of interminable night.

One instance there is of magnificent promise, and laughable non-performance, unequalled in the annals of literary History. Mr Coleridge informs us, that he and Mr Wordsworth (he is not certain which is entitled to the glory of the first discovery) have found out the difference between Fancy and Imagination. This discovery, it is prophesied, will have an incalculable influence on the progress of all the Fine Arts. He has written a long chapter purposely to prepare our minds for the great discussion. The audience is assembled the curtain is drawn up

and there, in his gown, cap, and wig, is sitting Professor Coleridge. In comes a servant with a letter; the Professor gets up, and, with a solemn voice, reads it to the audience.-It is from an enlightened Friend; and its object is to shew, in no very courteous

terms either to the Professor or his Spectators, that he may lecture, but that nobody will understand him. He accordingly makes his bow, and the curtain falls; but the worst of the joke is, that the Professor pockets the admittance-money,-for what reason, his outwitted audience are left, the best way they can, to" fancy or imagine."

But the greatest piece of Quackery in the Book, is his pretended account of the Metaphysical System of Kant, of which he knows less than nothing. He will not allow that there is a single word of truth in any of the French Expositions of that celebrated System, nor yet in any of our British Reviews. We do not wish to speak of what we do not understand, and therefore say nothing of Mr Coleridge's Metaphysics. But we beg leave to lay before our readers the following Thesis, for the amusement of a leisure hour.

"This principium commune essendi et cognoscendi, as subsisting in a WILL, or primary ACT of self-duplication, is the mediate or indirect principle of every science; but it is the mediate and direct principle of the ultimate science alone, i. e. of transcendental philosophy alone. For it must be remembered, that all these Theses refer solely to one of the two Polar Sciences, namely, to that which commences with and rigidly confines itself within the subjective, leaving the objective (as far as it is exclusively objective) to natural philosophy, which is its opposite pole. In its very idea, therefore, as a systematic knowledge of our collective KNOWING (scientia scientiæ), it involves the necessity of some one highest principle of knowing, as at once the source and the accompanying form in all particular acts of intellect and perception. This, it has been shown, can be found only in the

act and evolution of self-consciousness. We

are not investigating an absolute principium essendi; for then, I admit, many valid objections might be started against our theory; but an absolute principium cognoscendi. The result of both the sciences, or their equatorial point, would be the principle of a total and undivided philosophy, as, for prudential reasons, I have chosen to anticipate in the Scholium to Thesis VI. and the note subjoined."

We cannot take leave of Mr Coleridge, without expressing our indignation at the gross injustice, and, we fear, envious persecution, of his Criticism on Mr Maturin's "Bertram." He has thought it worth his while to analyse and criticise that Tragedy in a diatribe of fifty pages. · He contends evidently VOL. II.

against his own conviction, that it is utterly destitute of poetical and dramatic merit, and disgraceful, not to Mr Maturin alone, but to the audiences who adinired it when acted, and the reading Public, who admired it no less when printed. There is more malignity, and envy, and jealousy, and misrepresentation, and bad wit, in this Critical Essay, than in all the Reviews now existing, from the Edinburgh down to the Lady's Magazine. Mr Coleridge ought to have behaved otherwise to an ingenious man like Mr Maturin, struggling into reputation, and against narrow circumstances. He speaks with sufficient feeling of his own pecuniary embarrassments, and of the evil which Reviewers have done to his worldly concerns; but all his feeling is for himself, and he has done all in his power to pluck and blast the laurels of a man of decided Poetical Genius. This is not the behaviour which one Poet ought to show to another; and if Mr Coleridge saw faults and defects in Bertram, he should have exposed them in a dignified manner, giving all due praise, at the same time, to the vigour, and even originality, of that celebrated Drama. Mr Coleridge knows that "Bertram" has become a stock play at the London Theatres, while his own "Remorse" is for ever withdrawn. Has this stung him? Far be it from us to impute mean motives to any man. But there is a bitterness-an anger-a scornwe had almost said, a savage and revengeful fierceness-in the tone of Mr Coleridge, when speaking of Mr Maturin, which it is, we confess, impossible to explain, and which, we fear, proceeds (perhaps unknown to his metaphysical self) from private pique and hostility, occasioned by superior merit and greater success. As a proof that our opinion is at least plausible, we quote Mr Coleridge's description of

Bertram.

"This superfetation of blasphemy upon nonsense this felo de se and thief captain

this loathsome and leprous confluence of robbery, adultery, murder, and cowardly assassination-this monster, whose best deed is, the having saved his betters from the degradation of hanging him, by turning Jack Ketch to himself."

What a wretched contrast does Mr Coleridge here afford to Mr Walter Scott. That gentleman, it is known, encouraged Mr Maturin, before he was C

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66

known to the public, by his advice and commendation; and, along with Lord Byron, was the principal means of bringing Bertram" on the stage. Such conduct was worthy of the Mighty Minstrel," and consistent with that true nobility of mind by which he is characterized, and which makes him rejoice in the glory of contemporary genius. Mr Coleridge speaks with delight of the success of his own Tragedy-of his enlightened audience, and the smiling faces of those he recollected to have attended his Lectures on Poetry at the Royal Institution. How does he account for the same audience admiring Bertram? Let him either henceforth blush for his own fame, or admit Mr Maturin's claims to a like distinction.*

We have done. We have felt it our duty to speak with severity of this book and its author,-and we have given our readers ample opportunities to judge of the justice of our strictures. We have not been speaking in the cause of Literature only, but, we conceive, in the cause of Morality and Religion. For it is not fitting that He should be held up as an example to the rising generation (but, on the contrary, it is most fitting that he should be exposed as a most dangerous model), who has alternately embraced, defended, and thrown aside all systems of Philosophy, and all creeds of Religion; -who seems to have no power of retaining an opinion,-no trust in the principles which he defends,-but who fluctuates from theory to theory, according as he is impelled by vanity, envy, or diseased desire of change,and who, while he would subvert and scatter into dust those structures of knowledge, reared by the wise men of this and other generations, has nothing to erect in their room but the baseless and air-built fabrics of a dreaming imagination.

Wernerian Society, and given in No V. of this Magazine, p. 471, though it may have been singular in the neighbourhood of Leadhills, is not a solitary instance of the same appearance; and if you think it worthy of notice, I shall transcribe from my note-book its occurrence to me on two different occasions.

Having resided for several years in the West Highlands, my profession often obliged me to be on horseback in the night as well as during the day. From the western situation of that country, in the immediate vicinity of the Atlantic Ocean, the climate is generally moist and variable, occasioned by the prevailing winds, which, for the greater part of the year, blow from that quarter, and carry along with them immense volumes of clouds collected over that immeasurable expanse of water, which, being attracted by the great altitude of the mountains, are broken upon their summits, and pour down their torrents on the surrounding country;-of this description was the 6th of October 1799. mounted my horse in the morning, to encounter-what I had often done before-a long ride with a wet skin. Along with the rain there was its usual accompaniment, a breeze of wind, which continued till dusk, when it became calm. The rain also gradually abated, and at last disappeared, but left in its place a dense humid vapour, so that at the distance of a few yards no object was visible. The night became dark and dreary, but I continued my journey.

I

In passing along a road that leads by the margin of an extensive moss, and not far from a considerable river which intersects a great plain, I was surprised, and I confess startled, by the sudden illumination of my horse's whole mane and ears, which rapidly appeared as if thickly covered with burning sulphur or ignited phosphorus, and partially spread over the breast of my great-coat, and edge of my hat.

Having never before seen any thing of the kind, I believed that I was enveloped by an electric cloud, and felt considerable alarm lest an explosion

Mackenzie, the illustrious author of the Man of Feeling. The knowledge that high praise was bestowed on him by such a man, may well comfort Mr Maturin under the mean abuses of an envious rival.

of it should prove fatal. I drew my whip along the horse's mane, which produced a degree of scintillation, but did not dissipate the fiery fluid, a great quantity of which adhered to the whip. This lumination continued about four minutes, without increase or diminution, and went off in an instant, and did not frighten, nor seem to incommode, my horse.

The next opportunity I had of observing this phenomenon, was at the distance of some years, on the 14th of February 1813. The day had been very boisterous, with frequent showers of rain and hail. I was on horseback late in the evening, attended by a servant, also mounted. We required to ford a large river, which, to the reproach of the district in which it is situated, is the only one without a bridge, on the great line of road from the Mull of Kintyre through the West Highlands, and as far north as Johnny Groat's House.

This river is often so much swelled by floods as to be rendered impassable; and these floods frequently effect such changes in its course, as to make the fords intricate and hazardous for travellers. On this occasion all these dangers seemed evident; and just as we had arrived at the brink of the stream, and were considering by which track we should attempt to cross it, a black heavy cloud, accompanied with a violent blast of wind, and a severe shower of hail, came in our faces, and we were instantly in the dark. As we could not now see an inch before us, we were forced to stand still, on a wide open plain, where no shelter was near, and turning our backs to the storm, in shivering expectation awaited its blowing over.

We had not however halted long, when our attention was carried from the storm by the appearance of the manes and ears of our horses, which were quickly covered with the brilliant coruscation I had formerly witnessed, and which now remained longer than before. The servant, who was a native of Ayrshire, having never seen the like, was much surprised and terrified.

There was no thunder nor lightning observed within many miles of the places where these phenomena appeared, nor had there been any for several previous months; yet we cannot doubt that they must have been produced by

the electric state of the atmosphere, the moisture of which, at those times, prevented explosion; but which readily emitted the surcharged fluid when it came in contact with any substance to which it would adhere; and this is particularly remarkable with regard to the strong pair of horses. It may be observed, that on both occasions the horses were white, a colour, it has been noticed in the 66th volume of the Philos. Transac., by which the electric fluid is peculiarly attracted, when it happens to strike an animal; a satisfactory instance of which lately took place, and consists with my knowledge.

On a small island off Lochearn, in Argyllshire, one of the most picturesque and beautiful lakes in Britain, a poor man had erected a cottage for his family, and at the back of it a hut for his cow. During a thunder storm in autumn 1810, the lightning penetrated the roof and wall of this cottage, made its way through the cow-house, and split a huge piece of rock that stood behind. The lightning had killed the cow, but a black calf that stood close to her was not touched. Upon examining the cow, the colour of which was brown, and streaked with white on the sides, it was found that the electric fluid had run along the white portions only of the skin, the hair of which was completely destroyed, while that of a different colour remained sound, and was not even singed.

Before concluding this subject, it may be noticed, that the above described luminous appearances of the horses' manes were observed on the borders of two very extensive mosses, in both of which there are at all seasons large collections of stagnant water; but whether these luminations can be attributed to the same cause as that of the wellknown Ignes Fatui, so often seen near sink swamps, it may be difficult to determine. Though the vapours arising from marshy ground, and decayed animal and vegetable matter, are said to possess, along with their property of inflammability, that of mobility also, we can assign no other probable cause for the wonderful, and often fantastical appearances of such vapours, than that of occasional combination with electrical fluid, to which they have a strong affinity, and which pervades all the operations of nature. Sept 24, 1817.

DICALEDON

EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM MR SCORESBY, JUN. M.W.S. &c. TO PROFESSOR JAMESON.

Whitby, 27th Aug. 1817.

MY DEAR SIR,

THAT man is born to disappointment, and that where he indulges the highest expectations he is frequently deceived, are truths which I doubt not but you, my dear sir, may be disposed to admit. At least I assure myself, you will feel a sympathy in the disappointment I now allude to, the particulars of which I am about to communicate.

Last year, you will recollect, I made an experiment on the impregnation of wood with sea-water, when submitted to vast pressure, by being immersed some thousands of feet deep in the sea, the result of which was interesting. From this experiment, and two others subsequently made, I perceived that small blocks of wood, sent down to the depth of 720 feet, became a little impregnated with water, but were still buoyant in this fluid; that similar masses of oak, fir, beech, &c. after being sunk to the depth of 4000 feet, became heavier than sea-water, but that the fir speedily regained some of its buoyancy, so that it floated in fresh water; that at the depth of 4566 feet, lignum vitæ, hickery, elm, beech, mahogany, and fir wood, as well as bone, each became more or less impregnated with water, so that they all sunk in salt water, and having been kept constantly immersed, yet remain of greater specific gravity than the water of the sea. From the observable ratio of increase of specific gravity, obtained by wood subjected to an increase of pressure, I imagined that a still higher pressure would produce a still greater effect, and that the proportion of weight, gained by certain descriptions of wood sent down by a line, might be made use of to ascertain the depth. To prove this point, I wished to try the effect of pressure at the depth of a mile or a mile and a half. I therefore prepared for the experiment, by providing blocks of wood of different shapes, dimensions, and qualities, and other substances, to the amount of twenty articles. In this assortment I had blocks of fir, oak, and hickery, in enbes, parallelipoids, and wedges of different weights. The wedges and parallelipoids, each contained two cu

A

bic inches, and the cubes eight; from which I expected to find whether the shape or dimension of the wood had any effect in encouraging or hindering the entrance. of the sea-water. counterpart of each substance, corresponding in size, shape, and weight, were in readiness to be immersed in a tub of water during the time the principal pieces were under water, that the clear effect of the impregnation might be ascertained. Besides the above interesting object, I had in view other matters also the temperature of the sea at a depth scarcely before sounded was to be ascertained-the water of the greatest depth to which the apparatus was sent, to be brought up, and its specific gravity and constituents examined-two tin vessels (sent by Mr Adie), intended for trying the depth and mean specific gravity of the water passed through in the descent, to be proved-the nature of the current to be examined-and by means of a frame of wire-gauze stretched across the upper valve of the marine diver, it was converted into a trap for insects and small fishes; and whatever animals might enter by the lower valve in its descent, were expected to be brought up by it.

I

With these various objects in view, procured all the lead lines I could meet with; and having a favourable opportunity on the 28th of June, I moved the ship to a field of ice, fixed the whole apparatus, consisting of the marine diver, a Six's thermometer, Mr Adie's tin vessels, the specimens of wood, bones, jet metals, &c. and allowed them to sink to the perpendicular depth of 720 feet without meeting with the bottom. The end of the line resting in a boat, was, after an interval of two hours, taken on board the ship, and, by a slow and steady motion, we proceeded to draw it in. We had taken about 300 yards on board, when, to my excessive mortification, the line gave way, slipped through the grasp of a man who held it at the time, and disappeared in a moment! Thus an experiment, in which I placed such sanguine expectations, was blasted— an experiment which I intended as a finishing one, proved so indeed by another and reverse process. The apparatus I set a high value upon, being the only one of the kind in existence. The original was presented me by Sir Joseph Banks, and contrived at his re