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seemed like wanton affronts to the judgment of the world, and might be resented by many as indicating a temper which would hurl defiance against public opinion with wayward wilfulness, petulant pride, and random recklessness.'

It may, I think, be asserted that the judgment here pronounced expresses the sentiment of his own maturer years. He would not have written such lines as these in his later days. Indeed, they, and some of a like kind which appear in the first three impressions of the "Lyrical Ballads," are not found in succeeding editions2; and, upon the whole, it may now be affirmed, that among all the poets of England, none has surpassed him in elaborate workmanship, both in the form and expression of his thoughts.

1 Even in the edition of 1807*, the "Blind Highland Boy" is represented us follows:

"A household tub, like one of those

Which women use to wash their clothes,

This carried the Blind Boy."

These lines have now disappeared; and the "Highland Boy" sets sail in a very different vessel.†

It is remarkable that some critics, entertaining democratical opinions, should have been among the bitterest censors of these and similar passages: it would seem as if, in pronouncing judgment on Poetry, they forgot or abandoned the tenets of their political creed.

2 See the valuable remarks on this subject which will be found in Mr. Coleridge's Biog. Lit., vol. ii. p. 129-185., with additional observations from the last editor.

*Vol. ii. pp. 72, 73.

† Vol. iii. p. 35.

CHAPTER XIV.

RESIDENCE IN GERMANY.

"ON Tuesday morning, Sept. 18. 1798, about two o'clock, we were informed that we were in sight of land," says Miss Wordsworth, "and before ten we were at the mouth of the Elbe. We landed at Hamburgh at four in the afternoon."1 Wordsworth acted as the interpreter of the party, for Coleridge "could then only speak English and Latin," 2 but Wordsworth, though not able to speak German, conversed fluently in French.

"2

On Wednesday, Sept. 28., "we dined with Mr. Klopstock, and had the pleasure of meeting his brother, the Poet, a venerable old man retaining the liveliness of youth. He sustained an animated conversation with William the whole afternoon." Wordsworth made notes of his conversations with Klopstock, which were for the most part on poetical topics. These notes have been given to the world by Mr. Coleridge, in "The Friend," and they are also reprinted in the last edition of his Biographia Literaria1; I will not therefore reproduce them here. There are, however, certain characteristic sentiments expressed

1 Letter dated Hamburgh, Friday, Sept. 21. 1798.

2 See his Letter to Wade in Cottle's Reminiscences, vol. ii. p. 20. 3 Satyrane's Letters, Letter iii.

4 Vol. ii. p. 232–249.

by Wordsworth, which ought to find a place in these Memoirs; let me therefore insert them.1

"Klopstock spoke very slightingly of Kotzebue, as an immoral author in the first place, and next, as deficient in power. At Vienna,' said he, 'they are transported with him; but we do not reckon the people of Vienna either the wisest or the wittiest people of Germany.' He said Wieland was a charming author, and a sovereign master of his own language; that in this respect Goethe could not be compared to him, nor indeed could anybody else. He said that his fault was to be fertile to exuberance. I told him the 'OBERON' had just been translated into English. He asked me if I was not delighted with the poem. I answered, that I thought the story began to flag about the seventh or eighth book; and observed, that it was unworthy of a man of genius to make the interest of a long poem turn entirely upon animal gratification. He seemed at first disposed to excuse this by saying that there are different subjects for poetry, and that poets are not willing to be restricted in their choice. I answered that I thought the passion of love as well suited to the purposes of poetry as any other passion; but that it was a cheap way of pleasing to fix the attention of the reader through a long poem on the pure appetite. 'Well! but,' said he, 'you see that such poems please everybody.' I answered, that it was the province of a great poet to raise people up to his own level, not to descend to theirs. He agreed, and confessed, that on no account whatsoever would he have written a work like the 'OBERON.'

An Englishman had presented him with the Odes of

Biographia Literaria, S. T. Coleridge, vol. ii. p. 246. Satyrane's

Letters.

Collins, which he had read with pleasure. He knew little or nothing of Gray, except his 'ELEGY, written in a country CHURCH-YARD.' He complained of the Fool in 'LEAR.' I observed that he seemed to give a terrible wildness to the distress; but still he complained. He asked whether it was not allowed that Pope had written rhymed poetry with more skill than any of our writers. I said I preferred Dryden, because his couplets had greater variety in their movement. He thought my reason a good one; but asked whether the rhyme of Pope were not more exact. This question I understood as applying to the final terminations, and observed to him that I believed it was the case; but that I thought it was easy to excuse some inaccuracy in the final sounds, if the general sweep of the verse was superior. I told him that we were not so exact with regard to the final endings of lines as the French.

He seemed to think that no language could be so far formed as that it might not be enriched by idioms borrowed from another tongue. I said this was a very dangerous practice; and added, that I thought Milton had often injured both his prose and verse by taking this liberty too frequently. I recommended to him the prose works of Dryden as models of pure and native English. I was treading upon tender ground, as I have reason to suppose that he has himself liberally indulged in the practice.

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"I asked what he thought of Kant. He said that his reputation was much on the decline in Germany; that for his own part he was not surprised to find it so, as the works of Kant were to him utterly incomprehensible; that he had often been pestered by the Kanteans, but was rarely in the practice of

arguing with them. His custom was to produce the book, open it, and point to a passage, and beg they would explain it. This they ordinarily attempted to do by substituting their own ideas. I do not want, I say, an explanation of your own ideas, but of the passage which is before us. In this way I generally bring the dispute to an immediate conclusion.' He spoke of Wolfe as the first metaphysician they had in Germany. Wolfe had followers, but they could hardly be called a sect; and, luckily, till the appearance of Kant, about fifteen years ago, Germany had not been pestered by any sect of philosophers whatsoever, but each man had separately pursued his inquiries uncontrolled by the dogmas of a master. Kant had appeared ambitious to be the founder of a sect; he had succeeded; but the Germans were now coming to their senses again. He said that Nicolai and Engel had, in different ways, contributed to disenchant the nation; but above all, the incomprehensibility of the philosopher and his philosophy. He seemed pleased to hear that, as yet, Kant's doctrines had not met with many admirers in England; he did not doubt but that we had too much wisdom to be duped by a writer who set at defiance the common sense and common understandings of men. We talked of tragedy. He seemed to rate highly the power of exciting tears. I said that nothing was more easy than to deluge an audience; that it was done every day by the meanest writers."

Coleridge parted from Wordsworth and his sister at Hamburg, and went to Ratzeburg, thirty-five miles N.E. from Hamburg, on the road to Lubeck; and at

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