intelligible and interesting, so that the portion devoted to any one subject or department, shall be kept proportionate to the number of readers for whom it may be supposed to have a particular interest. Here, however, we must not forget, that however few the actual dilettanti, or men of the fancy may be, yet, as long as the articles remain generally intelligible (in pugilism, for instance), Variety and Novelty communicate attraction that interests all. Homo sum, nihil humani a me alienum. If to this we add the exclusion of theological controversy, which is endless, I shall have pretty accurately described the EDINBURGH MAGAZINE, as to its characteristic plan and purposes; which may, I think, be comprised in three terms, as a Philosophical, Philological, and *Es

* I wish I could find a more familiar word than æsthetic, for works of taste and criticism. It is, however, in all respects better, and of more reputable origin, than belletristic. To be sure, there is tasty; but that has been long ago emasculated for all unworthy uses by milliners, tailors, and the androgynous correlatives of both, formerly called its, and now yclept dandies. As our language, therefore, contains no other usable adjective, to express that coincidence of form, feeling, and intellect, that something which, confirming the inner and outward senses, becomes a new sense in itself, to be tried by laws of its own, and acknowledging the laws of the understanding so far only as not to contradict them; that faculty which, when possessed in a high degree, the Greeks termed piλokahía but when spoken of generally, or in kind only, rò alo¤ntikóv; and for which even our substantive, Taste, is a-not inappropriate—but very inadequate metaphor; there is reason to hope, that the term aesthetic, will be brought into common use as soon as distinct thoughts and definite expressions shall once more become the requisite accomplishment of a gentleman. So it was in the energetic days, and in the starry court of our English-hearted Eliza; when trade, the nurse of freedom, was the enlivening counterpoise of agriculture, not its alien and usurping spirit; when commerce had all the enterprise, and more than the romance of war; when the precise yet pregnant terminology of the schools gave bone and muscle to the diction of poetry and eloquence, and received from them in return passion and harmony; but, above all, when from the self-evident truth, that what in kind constitutes the superiority of man to animal, the same in degree must constitute the superiority of men to each other, the practical inference was drawn, that every proof of these distinctive faculties being in a tense and active state, that even the sparks and crackling of mental electricity, in the sportive approaches and collisions of ordinary intercourse (such as we have in the wit-combats of Benedict and Beatrice, of Mercutio, and in the dialogues assigned to courtiers and gentlemen, by all the dramatic writers of that reign), are stronger indications of natural superiority, and, therefore, more becoming signs and accompaniments of artificial rank, than apathy, studied mediocrity, and the

thetic Miscellany. The word miscellany, however, must be taken as involving a predicate in itself, in addition to the three preceding epithets, comprehending, namely, all the ephemeral births of intellectual life, which add to the gaiety and variety of the work, without interfering with its express and regular objects.

Having thus a sufficiently definite notion of what your Maga zine is, and is intended to be, I proposed to myself, as a problem, to find out, in detail, what the means would be to the most perfect attainment of this end. In other words, what the scheme, and of what nature, and in what order and proportion, the contents should be of a monthly publication; in order for it to verify the title of a Philosophical, Philological, and Esthetic Miscellany and Magazine. The result of my lucubrations I hope to forward in my next, under the title of "The Ideal of a Magazine;" and to mark those departments, in the filling up of which, I flatter myself with the prospect of being a fellow-laborer. But since I began this scrawl, a friend reminded me of a letter I wrote him many years ago, on the improvement of the mind, by the habit of commencing our inquiries with the attempt to construct the most absolute or perfect form of the object desiderated, leaving its practicability, in the first instance, undetermined. An essay, in short, de emendatione intellectûs per ideas—the beneficial influence of which, on his mind, he spoke of with warmth. The main contents of the letter, the effect of which, my friend appreciated so highly, were derived from conversation with a great man, now no more. And as I have reason to regard that conversation as an epoch in the history of my own mind, I feel myself encouraged to hope that its publication may not prove useless to some of your numerous readers, to whom Nature has given the stream, and nothing is wanting but to be led in the right channel. There is one other motive to which I must plead conscious, not only in the following, but in all of these, my preliminary contributions; viz. That by the reader's agreement with the principles, and sympathy with the general feelings,

ostentation of wealth. When I think of the vigor and felicity of style characteristic of the age, from Edward VI. to the restoration of Charles, and observable in the letters and family memoirs of noble families-take, for instance, the life of Colonel Hutchinson, written by his widow--I can not suppress the wish-O that the habits of those days could return, even though they should bring pedantry and Euphuism in their train!

which they are meant to impress, the interest of my future contributions, and still more, their permanent effect, will be heightened; and most so in those, in which, as narrative and imaginative compositions, there is the least show of reflection, on my part, and the least necessity for it,-though I flatter myself not the least opportunity on the part of my readers.

It will be better too, if I mistake not, both for your purposes and mine, to have it said hereafter, that he dragged slow and stiff-knee'd up the first hill, but sprang forward as soon as the road was full before him, and got in fresh; than that he set off in grand style-broke up midway, and came in broken-winded. Finis coronat opus. Yours, &c.

S. T. COLERIDGE.

LETTER IV. TO A JUNIOR SOPH, AT CAMBRIDGE.

OFTEN, my dear young friend! often, and bitterly, do I regret the stupid prejudice that made me neglect my mathematical studies at Jesus. There is something to me enigmatically attractive and imaginative in the generation of curves, and in the whole geometry of motion. I seldom look at a fine prospect or mountain landscape, or even at a grand picture, without abstracting the lines with a feeling similar to that with which I should conternplate the graven or painted walls of some temple or palace in Mid Africa,-doubtful whether it were mere Arabesque, or undeciphered characters of an unknown tongue, framed when the language of men was nearer to that of nature,—a language of symbols and correspondences. I am, therefore, far more disposed to envy, than join in the laugh against your fellow-collegiate, for amusing himself in the geometrical construction of leaves and flowers.

Since the receipt of your last, I never take a turn round the garden without thinking of his billow-lines and shell-lines, under the well-sounding names of Cumäids and Conchoids; they have as much life and poetry for me, as their elder sisters, the Naiads, Nereids, and Hama-dryads. I pray you, present my best respects to him, and tell him, that he brought to my recollection the glorious passage in Plotinus, "Should any one interrogate Nature how she works? if graciously she vouchsafes to answer, she will

say, It behooves thee to understand me (or better, and more literally, to go along with me) in silence, even as I am silent, and work without words ;"-but you have a Plotinus, and may construe it for yourself.-(Ennead 3. 1. 8, c. 3), attending particularly to the comparison of the process pursued by Nature, with that of the geometrician. And now for your questions respecting the moral influence of W.'s minor poems. Of course, this will be greatly modified by the character of the recipient. But that in the majority of instances it has been most salutary, I can not for a moment doubt. But it is another question whether verse is the best way of disciplining the mind to that spiritual alchemy, which communicates a sterling value to real or apparent trifles, by using them as moral diagrams, as your friend uses the oak and fig-leaves as geometrical ones. To have formed the habit of looking at every thing, not for what it is relative to the purposes and associations of men in general, but for the truths which it is suited to represent-to contemplate objects as words and pregnant symbols-the advantages of this, my dear D., are so many, and so important, so eminently calculated to excite and evolve the power of sound and connected reasoning, of distinct and clear conception, and of genial feeling, that there were few of W.'s finest passages-and who, of living poets, can lay claim to half the number?-that I repeat so often, as that homely quatrain,

O reader! had you in your mind

Such stores as silent thought can bring;

O gentle reader! you would find

A tale in every thing.

You did not know my revered friend and patron; or rather, you do know the man, and mourn his loss, from the character I have* lately given of him.-The following supposed dialogue actually took place, in a conversation with him; and as in part, an illustration of what I have already said, and in part as text and introduction to much I would wish to say, I entreat you to read it with patience, spite of the triviality of the subject, and mock-heroic of the title.

* In the 8th Number of The Friend, as first circulated by the post. I dare assert, that it is worthy of preservation, and will send a transcript in my next.

SUBSTANCE OF A DIALOGUE, WITH A COMMENTARY ON THE SAME. A. I never found yet, an ink-stand that I was satisfied with. B. What would you have an ink-stand to be? What qualities and properties would you wish to have combined in an ink-stand? Reflect! Consult your past experience; taking care, however, not to desire things demonstrably, or self-evidently incompatible with each other; and the union of these desiderata will be your ideal of an ink-stand. A friend, perhaps, suggests some additional excellence that might rationally be desired, till at length the catalogue may be considered as complete, when neither yourself, nor others, can think of any desideratum not anticipated or precluded by some one or more of the points already enumerated; and the conception of all these, as realized in one and the same artefact, may be fairly entitled, the

IDEAL of an Ink-stand.

That the pen should be allowed, without requiring any effort or interruptive act of attention from the writer, to dip sufficiently low, and yet be prevented, without injuring its nib, from dipping too low, or taking up too much ink that the ink-stand should be of such materials as not to decompose the ink, or occasion a deposition or discoloration of its specific ingredients, as, from what cause I know not, is the fault of the black Wedgewood-ware inkstands; that it should be so constructed, that on being overturned the ink can not escape; and so protected, or made of such stuff, that in case of a blow or a fall from any common height, the inkstand itself will not be broken ;—that from both these qualities, and from its shape, it may be safely and commodiously travelled with, and packed up with books, linen, or whatever else is likely to form the contents of the portmanteau, or travelling trunk ;— that it should stand steadily and commodiously, and be of as pleasing a shape and appearance as is compatible with its more important uses;—and, lastly, though of minor regard, and nonessential, that it be capable of including other implements or requisites, always, or occasionally connected with the art of writing, as pen-knife, wafers, &c., without any addition to the size and weight, otherwise desirable, and without detriment to its more important and proper advantages.