Reminiscences of Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Robert Southey

J >> Joseph Cottle >> Reminiscences of Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Robert Southey

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My dear Cottle,

What you say about poor Gilbert has surprised me. You know we lost sight
of him after he left Bristol, with, according to our apprehension, the
design of going to Liverpool, and from thence to procure a passage to
Africa. On that occasion, after consulting with Danvers, and I think with
you, I wrote to Roscoe, apologizing, as a stranger, for the liberty,
requesting him to caution any captain of a ship, bound to the African
coast, from taking a person in his state of mind on board. Roscoe replied
very courteously, and took the desired precaution, but Gilbert never
appeared at Liverpool. Some time afterward it was told me that he was
dead, and believing him so to be, I mentioned him in the life of Wesley,
(Vol. 2. p. 467.) speaking of him as I had ever felt, with respect and
kindness, but in a way which I should not have done if I had not been
fully persuaded of his death.

Mackintosh's notice, as you inform me, that my style is founded on Horace
Walpole, is ridiculous. It is founded on nobody's. I say what I have to
say as plainly as I can, without thinking of the style, and this is the
whole secret. I could tell by what poets my poetry has successively been
leavened, but not what prose writers have ever in the same manner
influenced me. In fact, I write as you may always have remarked, such as
I always converse, without effort, and without aiming at display.

... Poor Morgan, you know, was latterly supported by a subscription,
which Charles Lamb set on foot, and which was to have been annual, but he
died within the year.

Just now I am pressed for time to finish the 'Life of Cowper.' This Life
will interest you, not merely because you (I know) would read with
partial interest anything of mine, but because many circumstances are
there stated which have never before been made public.

You may have heard that a new edition of my 'Life of Wesley' is promised.
Such an accumulation of materials has been poured upon me by a Mr.
Marriott, well known among the Methodists, that I shall have to add a
fourth, or perhaps, a third part of new matter, besides making many
corrections and alterations. I have also got possession of the remaining
papers of Mr. Powley, who married Miss Unwin. His widow died last year;
and thus they became accessible. There were in the collection a good many
letters of Mr. Newton, whose letters to Mr. Thornton, I have had before,
and made great use of them in the 1st vol. of Cowper. From these papers I
shall learn much concerning the first proceedings of the evangelical
clergy, and expect to collect some materials for the 'Biographical
Notes,' which must accompany 'Cowper's Letters'; and still more for the
religious history of 'Wesley's Times,' as connected with the progress of
Methodism. God bless you, my dear old friend,

Robert Southey."

"Keswick, Nov. 4, 1828.

My dear Cottle,

Shame on me that your last friendly letter should have remained so long
unanswered, and that the direct motive for writing now should be a
selfish one; one however, in which I know you will take some interest, on
more accounts than one.

Major, in Fleet Street, is about to publish an edition of the Pilgrim's
Progress, for which I have undertaken to write an introductory life of
the author. You need not be told how dearly I love John Bunyan. Now he
has made inquiries among public and private libraries for the first
edition, and can nowhere discover a copy. It has occurred to me that it
may be in the Bristol Baptist Library, and if you will make this inquiry
for me, and in case it be there, ascertain whether it differs from the
folio edition of Bunyan's works, you will do me a great kindness[70]....
That I should be somewhat the worse for the wear was to be expected, but
I am not more so than you would look to see me; still active, cheerful,
with a good appetite for books, and not an ill one for work. Some things
I shall have to send you both in prose and verse, before the winter
passes away....

Remember me in the kindest manner to ----, and to ----, and to ----. When
I think of you all, old times return with the freshness of a dream. In
less time than has elapsed since we were all young together, we shall be
together again, and have dropped the weight of years and mortality on the
way.

If my old acquaintance, Isaac James be living, remember me to him with
cordial good will. God bless you, my dear old friend.

Robert Southey."

"Keswick, March 22, 1831.

My dear Cottle,

Your package arrived safely yesterday afternoon. I shall get the books
with which you presented me furbished up, and write in each that it was
your gift;--a pleasant memorandum which is found in others on these
shelves. I like to give books this incidental value, and write therefore,
the date, and place, in every fresh acquisition. Many recollections do
they call up, which otherwise would have passed away. You who have known
me from the beginning of my authorial life, ought to see this library of
mine. As I think no man ever made more use of his books, so I am sure
that no man ever took more delight in them. They are the pride of my
eyes, and the joy of my heart; an innocent pride, I trust, and a
wholesome joy."

* * * * *

The reader's attention will now be directed to Mr. Coleridge, by
introducing a letter from Mr. C. to Mr. Wade, who had written to him for
advice respecting a meditated excursion to Germany.

"March 6, 1801.

My very dear friend,

I have even now received your letter. My habits of thinking and feeling,
have not hitherto inclined me to personify commerce in any such shape, so
as to tempt me to tarn pagan, and offer vows to the goddess of our isle.
But when I read that sentence in your letter, 'The time will come I
trust, when I shall be able to pitch my tent in your neighbourhood,' I
was most potently commanded to a breach of the second commandment, and on
my knees, to entreat the said goddess, to touch your bank notes and
guineas with her magical multiplying wand. I could offer such a prayer
for you, with a better conscience than for most men, because I know that
you have never lost that healthy common sense, which regards money only
as the means of independence, and that you would sooner than most men cry
out, enough! enough! To see one's children secured against want, is
doubtless a delightful thing; but to wish to see them begin the world as
rich men, is unwise to ourselves, for it permits no close of our labours,
and is pernicious to them; for it leaves no motive to their exertions,
none of those sympathies with the industrious and the poor, which form at
once the true relish and proper antidote of wealth.

... Is not March rather a perilous month for the voyage from Yarmouth to
Hamburg? danger there is very little, in the packets, but I know what
inconvenience rough weather brings with it; not from my own feelings, for
I am never sea-sick, but always in exceeding high spirits on board ship,
but from what I see in others. But you are an old sailor. At Hamburgh I
have not a shadow of acquaintance. My letters of introduction produced
for me, with one exception, viz., Klopstock, the brother of the poet, no
real service, but merely distant and ostentatious civility. And Klopstock
will by this time have forgotten my name, which indeed he never properly
knew, for I could speak only English and Latin, and he only French and
German. At Ratzeburgh, 35 English miles N. E. from Hamburgh, on the road
to Lubec, I resided four months; and I should hope, was not unbeloved by
more than one family, but this is out of your route. At Gottingen I
stayed near five months, but here I knew only students, who will have
left the place by this time, and the high learned professors, only one of
whom could speak English; and they are so wholly engaged in their
academical occupations, that they would be of no service to you. Other
acquaintance in Germany I have none, and connexion I never had any. For
though I was much entreated by some of the Literati to correspond with
them, yet my natural laziness, with the little value I attach to literary
men, as literary men, and with my aversion from those letters which are
to be made up of studied sense, and unfelt compliments, combined to
prevent me from availing myself of the offer. Herein, and in similar
instances, with English authors of repute, I have ill consulted the
growth of my reputation and fame. But I have cheerful and confident hopes
of myself. If I can hereafter do good to my fellow-creatures as a poet,
and as a metaphysician, they will know it; and any other fame than this,
I consider as a serious evil, that would only take me from out the number
and sympathy of ordinary men, to make a coxcomb of me. As to the inns or
hotels at Hamburgh, I should recommend you to some German inn. Wordsworth
and I were at the 'Der Wilde Man,' and dirty as it was, I could not find
any inn in Germany very much cleaner, except at Lubec. But if you go to
an English inn, for heaven's sake, avoid the 'Shakspeare,' at Altona, and
the 'King of England,' at Hamburgh. They are houses of plunder rather
than entertainment. 'The Duke of York' hotel, kept by Seaman, has a
better reputation, and thither I would advise you to repair; and I advise
you to pay your bill every morning at breakfast time: it is the only way
to escape imposition. What the Hamburgh merchants may be I know not, but
the tradesmen are knaves. Scoundrels, with yellow-white phizzes, that
bring disgrace on the complexion of a bad tallow candle. Now as to
carriage, I know scarcely what to advise; only make up your mind to the
very worst vehicles, with the very worst horses, drawn by the very worst
postillions, over the very worst roads, and halting two hours at each
time they change horses, at the very worst inns; and you have a fair,
unexaggerated picture of travelling in North Germany. The cheapest way is
the best; go by the common post wagons, or stage coaches. What are called
extraordinaries, or post-chaises, are little wicker carts, uncovered,
with moveable benches or forms in them, execrable in every respect. And
if you buy a vehicle at Hamburgh, you can get none decent under thirty or
forty guineas, and very, probably it will break to pieces on the infernal
roads. The canal boats are delightful, but the porters everywhere in the
United Provinces, are an impudent, abominable, and dishonest race. You
must carry as little luggage as you well can with you, in the canal
boats, and when you land, get recommended to an inn beforehand, and
bargain with the porters first of all, and never lose sight of them, or
you may never see your portmanteau or baggage again.

My Sarah desires her love to you and yours. God bless your dear little
ones! Make haste and get rich, dear friend! and bring up the little
creatures to be playfellows and school-fellows with my little ones!

Again and again, sea serve you, wind speed you, all things turn out good
to you! God bless you,

S. T. Coleridge."

As a curious literary fact, I might mention that the sale of the first
edition of the "Lyrical Ballads," was so slow, and the severity of most
of the reviews so great, that their progress to oblivion, notwithstanding
the merit which I was quite sure they possessed, seemed ordained to be as
rapid as it was certain. I had given thirty guineas for the copyright, as
detailed in the preceding letters; but the heavy sale induced me at
length, to part with, at a loss, the largest proportion of the
impression of five hundred, to Mr. Arch, a London bookseller. After this
transaction had occurred, I received a letter from Mr. Wordsworth,
written the day before he set sail for the continent, requesting me to
make over my interest in the "Lyrical Ballads" to Mr. Johnson, of St
Paul's Churchyard. This I could not have done, had I been so disposed, as
the engagement had been made with Mr. Arch.

On Mr. W.'s return to England, I addressed a letter to him, explaining
the reasons why I could not comply with his request, to which he thus
replied:

"My dear Cottle,

I perceive that it would have been impossible for you to comply with my
request, respecting the 'Lyrical Ballads,' as you had entered into a
treaty with Arch. How is the copyright to be disposed of when you quit
the bookselling business? We were much amused with the 'Anthology,' Your
poem of the 'Killcrop' we liked better than any; only we regretted that
you did not save the poor little innocent's life, by some benevolent art
or other. You might have managed a little pathetic incident, in which
nature, appearing forcibly in the child, might have worked in some way or
other, upon its superstitious destroyer.

We have spent our time pleasantly enough in Germany, but we are right
glad to find ourselves in England, for we have learnt to know its value.
We left Coleridge well at Gottingen, a month ago....

God bless you, my dear Cottle,

Your affectionate friend,

W. Wordsworth."

Soon after the receipt of the above, I received another letter from Mr.
W. kindly urging me to pay him a visit in the north, in which, as an
inducement, he says,

"... Write to me beforehand, and I will accompany you on a tour. You will
come by Greta-bridge, which is about twenty miles from this place,
(Stockburn); and after we have seen all the curiosities of that
neighbourhood, I will accompany you into Cumberland and Westmoreland....

God bless you, dear Cottle,

W. W."

A short time after the receipt of this invitation, Mr. Coleridge arrived
in Bristol from Germany, and as he was about to pay Mr. Wordsworth a
visit, he pressed me to accompany him. I had intended a journey to
London, and now determined on proceeding with so agreeable a companion,
and on so pleasant a journey and tour; taking the metropolis on my
return. To notice the complicated incidents which occurred on this tour,
would occupy a large space. I therefore pass it all over, with the
remark, that in this interview with Mr. Wordsworth, the subject of the
"Lyrical Ballads" was mentioned but once, and that casually, and only to
account for its failure! which Mr. W. ascribed to two causes; first the
"Ancient Mariner," which, he said, no one seemed to understand; and
secondly, the unfavorable notice of most of the reviews.

On my reaching London, having an account to settle with Messrs. Longman
and Rees, the booksellers of Paternoster Row, I sold them all my
copyrights, which were valued as one lot, by a third party. On my next
seeing Mr. Longman, he told me, that in estimating the value of the
copyrights, Fox's "Achmed," and Wordsworth's "Lyrical Ballads," were
"reckoned _as nothing_." "That being the case," I replied, "as both these
authors are my personal friends, I should be obliged, if you would return
me again these two copyrights, that I may have the pleasure of presenting
them to the respective writers." Mr. Longman answered, with his
accustomed liberality, "You are welcome to them." On my reaching Bristol,
I gave Mr. Fox his receipt for twenty guineas; and on Mr. Coleridge's
return from the north, I gave him Mr. Wordsworth's receipt for his thirty
guineas; so that whatever advantage has arisen, subsequently, from the
sale of this volume of the "Lyrical Ballads," I am happy to say, has
pertained exclusively to Mr. W.

I have been the more particular in these statements, as it furnishes,
perhaps, the most remarkable instance on record, of a volume of Poems
remaining for so long a time, almost totally neglected, and afterwards
acquiring, and that in a rapid degree, so much deserved popularity.[71]

A month or two after Mr. Coleridge had left Bristol for Germany, Dr.
Beddoes told me of a letter he had just received from his friend, Davies
Giddy, (afterward with the altered name of Gilbert, President of the
Royal Society) recommending a very ingenious young chemist, of Penzance,
in Cornwall, to assist him in his Pneumatic Institution, at the Hotwells.
"The character is so favourable," said the Dr. "I think I shall engage
him;" handing me the letter. I read it, and replied, "You cannot err in
receiving a young man thus recommended." Two or three weeks after, Dr. B.
introduced me to no other than Mr. afterwards Sir. Humphrey Davy. (Mr.
Giddy little thought that this "young chemist of Penzance," was destined
to precede himself, in occupying the chair of Newton.)

This Pneumatic Institution, for ascertaining how far the different gases,
received into the lungs, were favourable, or not, to certain diseases,
has often been referred to; but its origin, that I am aware of, has never
been stated. It has erroneously been supposed, to have depended for its
establishment and support, exclusively on Dr. Beddoes. But being
acquainted with the circumstances of the case, it is right to mention,
that this Gaseous Institution resulted from the liberality of the late
Mr. Lambton, (father of the late Earl of Durham). When Mr. L. heard from
Dr. Beddoes an opinion expressed, that Medical science might be greatly
assisted by a fair and full examination of the effects of factitious airs
on the human constitution, particularly in reference to consumption; to
obtain this "fair and full examination," Mr. Lambton immediately
presented Dr. B. with the munificent sum of fifteen hundred pounds. One
other individual also, contributed handsomely toward the same
object,--the late Mr. Thomas Wedgewood, who presented Dr. B. with one
thousand pounds, for the furtherance of this design.[72]

It might be here mentioned, that a few months after this, two
intelligent-looking boys were often seen with Dr. B. with whom they were
domesticated. The Dr. was liberally remunerated for superintending their
education, (with suitable masters;) and this he did at the dying request
of their father, who had recently deceased in Italy. Dr. Beddoes took
great pains with these boys, so that when they entered at Eton, they were
found quite equal to other boys of their own age in classical
attainments, and greatly their superiors in general knowledge. The father
was the above Mr. Lambton, and one of the two boys, was the late Earl of
Durham. One of the precepts strongly inculcated on these youths, was,
"Never be idle, boys. Let energy be apparent in all you do. If you play,
play heartily, and at your book, be determined to excel. Languor is the
bane of intellect."

I remember to have seen Mr. Lambton at Dr. B.'s. He had a fine
countenance, but it betrayed the hue of consumption. After having been
for some time under the care of Dr. Beddoes, the Dr. recommended his
patient to try a warmer climate, when Mr. L. departed for Italy. Mr.
Lambton's health still declining, and considering that his only chance
for life depended on the skill of his own experienced physician, he wrote
to Dr. Beddoes, urging him, without delay to set off, I think, for
Naples. This I received from Dr. B. himself, who said, at the same time,
"On Monday morning I shall set off for Italy." But before Monday, the
tidings arrived that Mr. Lambton was dead!

The two young Lambtons had the additional privilege of living under the
same roof with Mr. Davy, and on various occasions through life, the Earl
of Durham and his brother have testified a deep sense of respect and
friendship for the illustrious chemist who so enlivened and edified their
younger days.

When Dr. Beddoes introduced to me young Mr. Davy, (being under twenty) I
was much struck with the intellectual character of his face. His eye was
piercing, and when not engaged in converse, was remarkably introverted,
amounting to absence, as though his mind had been pursuing some severe
trains of thought, scarcely to be interrupted by external objects; and
from the first interview also, his ingenuousness impressed me as much as
his mental superiority. Mr. D. having no acquaintance in Bristol, I
encouraged and often received his visits, and he conferred an obligation
on me, by often passing his afternoons in my company. During these
agreeable interviews, he occasionally amused me by relating anecdotes of
himself; or detailing his numerous chemical experiments: or otherwise by
repeating his poems, several of which he gave me (still retained); and it
was impossible to doubt, that if he had not shone as a philosopher, he
would have become conspicuous as a poet.[73]

I must now refer again to the Pneumatic Institution, to which the medical
world looked with some anxiety, and which excited much conversation in
the circle where I happened to be placed. Dr. Beddoes early in the year
1798, had given an admirable course of Lectures in Bristol, on the
principles and practice of Chemistry, and which were rendered popular by
a great diversity of experiments; so that, with other branches of the
science, the gases, had become generally familiar. The establishment of
the Pneumatic Institution immediately following, the public mind was
prepared, in some measure, to judge of its results; and a very
considerable increase of confidence was entertained, from the
acknowledged talents of the young superintendant; so that all which could
be accomplished was fully calculated upon. The funds also which supported
the Institution being ample, the apparatus corresponded, and a more
persevering and enthusiastic experimentalist than Mr. Davy, the whole
kingdom could not have produced; an admission which was made by all who
knew him, before the profounder parts of his character had been
developed. No personal danger restrained him from determining facts, as
the data of his reasoning; and if Fluxions, or some other means, had not
conveyed the information, such was his enthusiasm, he would almost have
sprung from the perpendicular brow of St. Vincent to determine his
precise time, in descending from the top to the bottom.

I soon learnt from Mr. D. himself the course of his experiments; many of
which were in the highest degree hazardous, when, with friendly
earnestness, I warned him against his imminent perils. He seemed to act,
as if in case of sacrificing one life, he had two or three others in
reserve on which he could fall back in case of necessity. He occasionally
so excited my fears that I half despaired of seeing him alive the next
morning. He has been known sometimes to breathe a deadly gas, with his
finger on his pulse, to determine how much could be borne, before a
serious declension occurred in the vital action. The great hazards to
which he exposed himself may be estimated by the following slight detail.

Dr. Mitchell, as well as Dr. Priestley, had stated the fatal effects on
animal life, of the gazeous oxide of azote; Mr. Davy, on the contrary,
for reasons which satisfied himself, thought it respirable in its pure
state; at least, that a single inspiration of this gas might neither
destroy, nor materially injure the powers of life. He tried one
inspiration. No particularly injurious effects followed. He now breathed,
out of his _green bag_, three quarts of this nitrous oxide (gazeous oxide
of azote,) when it was attended with a degree of giddiness, great fulness
in the head, and with loss of distinct sensation and voluntary power,
analogous to intoxication. Not being able fully to determine whether the
gas was "stimulant" or "depressing," he now breathed four quarts of it
from his _green bag_, when an irresistible propensity to action followed,
with motions, various and violent. Still, not being satisfied, he
proceeded in his experiments, and at length found that he could breathe
nine quarts for three minutes, and twelve quarts for rather more than
four, but never for five minutes, without the danger of fatal
consequences, as before five minutes had expired, the mouth-piece
generally dropped from his unclosed lips. By breathing from six to seven
quarts only, muscular motions were produced, and he manifested the
pleasure it excited, by stamping, laughing, dancing, shouting, &c.

At another time, having ascertained that his pure nitrous oxide, was
eminently stimulant, he wanted to determine whether the system, in a high
state of stimulation, would then be susceptible of a proportionate
accession of stimulus from his new gas; like that which would be
experienced by the man, who after taking one bottle of wine, drank a
second; and to acquire demonstration on this nice subject, (although he
was a confirmed water-drinker) to form the basis of his experiment, he
drank off with all despatch a whole bottle of wine, the consequence of
which was, that he first reeled, and then fell down insensibly drunk.
After lying in this state for two or three hours, he awoke with a sense
of nausea, head-ache, and the usual effects of intoxication. At the first
return of recollection, however, undaunted by the past, the young
enthusiastic philosopher called out for the _green bag_, when he breathed
twelve quarts of nitrous oxide, for three or four minutes. The
consequence of this was, he became a second time intoxicated, though in a
less degree, when he strode across the room, and by stamping, laughing,
dancing, and vociferation, found that the same effects followed, which
attended his former experiment, without any increase of stimulus from the
wine.

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