to say, he was not in his rooms. William Jackson [will] be shortly going into the north. I breakfasted with him last Thursday. I am very sorry to say that your friend Cookson has been pluck'd.
Hartley's first vacation was spent with his father at Calne ( 1815) at the very time Coleridge was writing the Biographia Literaria and when he was continually talking of his great philosophical work, his magnum opus on the Logos, which was never published and only partially completed. The references in the last part of the following letter to his father probably refer to the latter work.
By 1817 Coleridge had won, if not a complete, at least a satisfactory victory over his opium habit. He was settled at the Grove, Highgate, with James and Ann Gillman, in a home where he was to live the remaining eighteen years of his life, and there Hartley spent several of his college vacations.
To SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE, Highgate, London.
Merton Col. March 18, 1817.
My dear Father
After waiting with great anxiety for nearly a month, (not without apprehension, that your silence has been occasion'd by ill health) for an answer to my last, which I think could not miscarry, I cannot but feel it my duty again to address you, though I cannot tell you that I have proceeded on the work you proposed to me, being unable to procure a copy of Nemesius at Oxford, although it was published there in 8vo., 1671. As the Easter vacation is now at hand I should have had leisure to have translated it; and will still set about it, if you will put me in the way of procuring the original. Tho' I must say, I should be alarm'd at seeing my name in a printed Title-page; but will certainly follow your advice.
I have employ'd the last term chiefly in making myself master of Pindar, and of the Nικομάχεια 'Hθικά' of Aristotle. I have not found the former very difficult, any further than as deep thinking and conceal'd connection in a writer always demand deep thinking and close attention in the reader: his numerous historical and mythological allusions certainly require considerable collateral knowledge, but I think he is rarely liable to the charge of obscurity. I am obliged to you