loosened, and the bowl broken at the very fountain-and that the next prayer which would there be heard, would be a still more fervent one, for the patriot, fighting for his home, and the rights of home. There was the subdued and anxious visage of Joseph Galloway, and the rather bolder, but still perplexed countenance of John Dickinson, the two great leaders of the peaceful politics of Pennsylvania; but neither of them the man for revolutionary times. -But there stood close by, a phalanx of other men, erect and firm, with iron frames and souls of fire; undaunted, and ready for any crisis that might arise. There was the meagre, attenuated form of HENRY, care-worn by the restless thoughts which were coursing through his soulthere were JOHN and SAMUEL ADAMS, stern and scornful; the latter, the image of what we may conceive an ancient Cameronian to have been, or one of those 'grave, sad men,' who, in the days of the Commonwealth, pronounced the stern decree on Charles Stuart-Tyrant of England.' There stood MIDDLETON, and the RUTLEDGES, and RICHARD HENRY LEE, the true representatives of southern chivalry-and there, the noblest Roman of them all,' your own JOHN JAY, than whom no purer spirit shed its influence on the contest then beginning; and near them stood one other, whom I need not name, an unpretending young man, of noble stature and modest mien, scarcely known except to his colleagues, who, as the prayer ascended, bowed his head in reverence, as if reluctant to look upon the future which was to canonize his glorious name. And from this moment downwards, Charles Thomson kept the record of the doings of that congress-'he wrote what the thunders uttered' he witnessed and shared its councils of dismay, anxiety, and triumph. When the approach of the enemy, in seventeen hundred and seventy-six, compelled them to retire to Baltimore, he was with them. When, at the darkest hour of the war, they retired to York, few in numbers, and broken in spirit, he was with them still-more than their mere scribe-their counsellor and friend: the man of undaunted courage, as he was the man of unquestioned truth. As I have said, he lived to see the consummation of the work, the hour of triumph, the hour of perfected union. Whenever the history of the Union shall be written, the few (and unhappily there are but few) records of this old man's life, will be worthy of careful study. pp. 34-39.

In panegyrizing the heroic age of American history, it is added:

"To judge the better of this romantic purity, contrast it, either in the council or in the field, with that other of history's records the annals of revolutionary which was so soon after writtenFrance. Compare the old continental congress with the assembly, or the notables, or the convention, or the council of ancients.

Take their great men, from Mirabeau, the greatest of them all, downward on the roll, to the poorest, strolling patriot of the smallest section, and contrast each and all of them with the true chivalry of our annals our soldiers or our statesmen-and still the palm is gloriously ours.

"I have often made this contrast, and have often tried to find, in the annals of revolutionary France, any thing on which that high principle of our intellectual and moral nature, the poetic instinct, can dwell with pleasure. They were tragic enough; but it was the unvarying, unmitigated tragedy, which nauseates the mind with horrors. There was no more poetry in it than there is in the gallows or the bow-string. It was like witchcraft's dread mixture, the fermentation of coarse animal ingredients, without a leaf, or a flower, or a fragrant herb being cast into the boiling cauldron, or ever bubbling to its surface. There was no object of sympathy, or there were ten thousand too many. The republic itself, even as it sprang from its birth-place, was no creation of beauty. There were the helmet and the sword, and the gorgon shield with all its hissing snakes -but there was not the majestic step or the stately beauty of the goddess. And when the republic fell, after it had so often changed its garb from one costume of frippery to another, and so often washed its bloody hands, there is nothing to compare it to, in all its mutilated and unpitied deformity, but that most disgusting of its horrible pictures, when Robespierre lay stretched on a table in the committee of public safety, with his hands tied behind him like a common felon-his jaw broken by his own cowardly pistol-shot-dressed in a sky-blue silk coat, with his powdered hair and his lace ruffles dabbled in his own blood. It was the very incarnation of French republicanism in its last unpitied agonies."-pp. 43-44.

We have quoted this eloquent and striking passage, because the contrast it suggests cannot be too often or too deeply enforced. The student of history must understand it the American citizen-the republican in any portion of the earth, must appreciate it, learning that there is a moral gulf as wide and as fathomless as the Atlantic, between that revolution, which ended in the dismemberment of the British. empire, by giving independence to the United Colonies, and that other which went down in domestic terror-in blood, and at last in a military despotism, such as the world never witnessed the living types of the one being Franklin and Washington, and of the other, Robespierre and Napoleon.

In closing this notice of the historical paper we have had somewhat discursively under review, let us add, that much remains to be done historically, on the subject the author has broken ground in. The Union was of slow formation. As

we remarked on a former occasion, it grew. It grew as the tree grows as the forest grows. It stands, too, like the forest, presenting to the beholder's eye, its variety of growth, a symmetry of form, its variety of foliage, a harmony of colors- each trunk drawing from the soil appropriate nourishment, and never "blasting his wholesome brother." It stands like the forest in its confederate strength, self-sustaining and imperishable in the course of nature, in which man has the hope given, that "while the earth remaineth, seed time and harvest shall not cease." But it may be wasted by faithless abandonment, or spoiled by rude and rash violence; and let it be remembered, that the same course admonishes us, that a stunted growth springs up on the same soil, where before stood the forest, whose every tree had majesty enough "to be the mast of some great aminiral."

ART. VI.-1. The Literary Remains of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Collected and edited by HENRY NELSON COLERIDGE, Esq. A. M. Four Volumes, 8vo. London: 1836 to 1839. Pickering.

2. The Scriptural Character of the English Church, considered in a series of Sermons, with Notes and Illustrations, by the Rev. DERWENT COLERIDGE, A. M. London: 1839. Parker. 8vo. pp. 475.

It is not often that we have an opportunity like the present, of placing at the head of one article in our Review, the contemporaneous works of father and son; still seldomner to do it as we now do, in all reverential love and hopeful admiration-looking to one as a mighty luminary just set, and the other, as a rising star in the same firmament, and to both, ast co-workers in the greatest and best of all causes. This may well awaken in us higher and tenderer feelings, than in the performance of our duty as critics we are generally permitted to indulge.

But we would not that our gratification as reviewers should stand as our justification before the public for thus uniting the works of father and son. It is an act on our part that

involves a deeper argument; one that we are bound to justify, and which we shall at once proceed to open.

The first named of the above publications, originated in the authority given by will to Mr. Coleridge's executor, "to publish any notes or writing made by him in his books, or any other of his manuscripts or letters." Its materials are therefore, as observed by the editor, "fragmentary in the extreme sybilline leaves, notes of the lecturer, memoranda of the investigator, outpourings of the solitary and self-communing student. The fear of the press was not in them." Few indeed are the minds whose siftings might be thus gathered with honor to themselves and profit to others; but of those few, Coleridge is doubtless one; and his high fame, we hesitate not to predict, is destined to rise higher on these chancediscovered fragments of his genius, than even on the most labored of his works. The explanation as well as justification of this opinion is to be found in the characteristic peculiarity of his mind and of his philosophy. That lay not so much in the spectacle as in the power of vision, "a genuine gift of insight," ever bringing forth the same free living principles, whatever subject he touched. This it was, which at once rendered his single thoughts "lightning like," and his schemes as an author "gigantic and impracticable," causing even his oral teaching too often to pass over the hearer's mind "like a roar of many waters." "He was," to use the words of the introductory, "l'envoy, who with long and large arm still collected precious armfulls in whatever direction he pressed forward, yet still took up so much more than he could keep together, that those who followed him gleaned more from his continual droppings than he himself brought home; nay, made stately corn-ricks therewith, while the reaper himself was still seen only with a strutting armful of newly cut sheaves."

Of the four volumes already published, the first two exhibit him as a critic-the master critic, we would add, of our language; the two latter volumes, to which our present attention will be confined, are of a deeper tone, not, however, in principles, but in their application, exhibiting him as the spiritual minded inquirer, the learned theologian, the catholic churchman, the union, in short, of the philosopher, the scholar, and the christian. The power of Coleridge, in these volumes, over the mind of the thoughtful reader, goes beyond, in our judgment, that of any of his didactic works; for his eminence is as a thinker rather than

a teacher; those truths of deepest philosophy which formed the ground-work of all his speculations, here "presenting themselves to the reader," as observed by his editor," with almost affecting reiteration." Such are the volumes in which Coleridge, the father, speaks. The volume of the son, however differing in title or form, is, in substance, in strictest keeping with the thoughts of his parental teacher—the same seminal principles-the same philosophy of "insight". the same spiritual tone of reasoning-the same deep truths arrived at the same identification of our moral and religious wants with the mysterious truths of revelation—and, we may add, the same resulta visible christian church, holding alike to the word and to the sacraments; or, as expressed in the motto chosen by the son from his father's writings, to be the link and bond between them, and thus emphatically printed by him-"my fixed principle is, that A CHRISTIANITY

WITHOUT A CHURCH, EXERCISING SPIRITUAL AUTHORITY, IS

VANITY AND DISSOLUTION." The leading difference between them, as stated by the son, is that simply of logical method. "To reconcile the actual constitution of the church, as seen from without, with its inward and spiritual form, as cognizable in scripture, (the forma formata with the forma formans,) is my immediate object. This may be pursued in opposite directions. I have begun with the phenomenon. Hence the general method of this work is analytical; whereas, the scope of the Aids to Reflection is to supply the materials of an enlightened synthesis." "Accordingly," he adds, "in every one of his (the father's) works, but particularly in the Aids to Reflection, and in the Church and State, a solution will be found for all the questions which I have specially undertaken to discuss."- Preface, p. xxv. To indicate, however, more clearly this specific difference, he adds, as another motto, the words of Luther, from his father's favorite volume, and once by him here commented on, namely, his Table Talk, "LET US PRAY IN THE CHURCH, WITH THE CHURCH, AND FOR THE CHURCH."

Such is the son's work; one not unworthy of the honored name it bears, and destined, we think, to take its place on the same shelf with his father's volumes, as their safe and true exponent and interpreter. What that exposition and interpretation is, we here propose to show; but must first somewhat enlarge upon one or two previous questions.