J. Storer Clouston - "The Lunatic at Large"

Various - "Journal of the Proceedings of the Linnean Society Vol. 3"

by Alfred Russell Wallace - "The Malay Archipelago Volume 1"

Wolfgang Menzel, Trans. Mrs. George Horrocks - "Germany from the Earliest Period Vol. 4"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

Reminiscences of Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Robert Southey

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




All the gases that had hitherto been the subject of investigation, sunk
in importance before this nitrous oxide, which the perseverance of Mr.
Davy had now obtained in its pure state, in any quantity and consequently
divested of that foreign admixture which rendered it usually so
destructive. He had also ascertained the quantity which might safely be
admitted into the lungs. Dr. Beddoes was sanguine as to its medical
qualities, and conceived that, if not a specific, it might prove highly
advantageous in paralysis, and pulmonary affections; and, in conjunction
with these benefits he well knew it would confer importance on his own
Pneumatic Institution. As Dr. B. meditated a publication expressly on
this subject, he was desirous of collecting the testimony of others, for
which purpose, he persuaded several of his friends to breathe this
innocent, but exhilarating nitrous oxide, while they described, and he
recorded their sensations.

Mr. Southey, Mr. Clayfield, Mr. Tobin, and others inhaled the new air.
One, it made dance, another laugh, while a third, in his state of
excitement, being pugnaciously inclined, very uncourteously, struck Mr.
Davy rather violently with his fist. It became now an object with Dr. B.
to witness the effect this potent gas might produce on one of the softer
sex, and he prevailed on a courageous young lady, (Miss ----) to breathe
out of his pretty _green bag_, this delightful nitrous oxide. After a few
inspirations, to the astonishment of every body, the young lady dashed
out of the room and house, when, racing down Hope-square, she leaped over
a great dog in her way, but being hotly pursued by the fleetest of her
friends, the fair fugitive, or rather the temporary maniac, was at length
overtaken and secured, without further damage.

Dr. Beddoes now expressed a wish to record my testimony also, and
presented me his _green bag_; but being satisfied with the effects
produced on others, I begged to decline the honour. The Pneumatic
Institution, at this time, from the laughable and diversified effects
produced by this new gas on different individuals, quite exorcised
philosophical gravity, and converted the laboratory into the region of
hilarity and relaxation. The young lady's feats, in particular, produced
great merriment, and so intimidated the ladies, that not one, after this
time, could be prevailed upon to look at the _green bag_, or hear of
nitrous oxide, without horror!

But more perilous experiments must now be noticed. Mr. Davy having
succeeded so well with the Nitrous Oxide, determined even to hazard a
trial with the deadly Nitrous Gas. For this purpose he placed in a bag,
"one hundred and fourteen cubic inches of nitrous gas," and knowing that
unless he exhausted his lungs of the atmospheric air, its oxygen would
unite with the nitrous gas, and produce in his lungs _aqua-fortis_, he
wisely resolved to expel if possible, the whole of the atmospheric air
from his lungs, by some contrivance of his own. For this purpose, in a
second bag, he placed seven quarts of nitrous oxide, and made from it
three inspirations, and three expirations, and then instantly transferred
his mouth to the nitrous gas bag, and turning the stop-cock, took one
inspiration. This gas, in passing through his mouth and fauces, burnt his
throat, and produced such a spasm in the epiglottis, as to cause him
instantly to desist, when, in breathing the common air, aqua-fortis was
really formed in his mouth, which burnt his tongue, palate, and injured
his teeth. Mr. D. says, "I never design again to repeat so rash an
experiment."

But though this experiment might not be repeated, there was one other
nearly as dangerous, to which Mr. Davy's love of science prompted him to
resort; not by trying it on another but, generously, on himself.

Mr. Davy wished to determine whether the carburetted hydrogen gas, was so
destructive to animal life as had been represented. In its pure state,
one inspiration of this gas was understood to destroy life, but Mr. D.
mixed three quarts of the gas, with two quarts of the atmospheric air,
and then breathed the whole for nearly a minute. This produced only
slight effects, (nothing to an experimental chemist;) merely "giddiness,
pain in the head, loss of voluntary power," &c.

The spirit of inquiry not being to be repressed by these trifling
inconveniences, Mr. Davy was now emboldened to introduce into his green
bag, four quarts of carburetted hydrogen gas, nearly pure. After
exhausting his lungs in the usual way, he made two inspirations of this
gas. The first inspiration produced numbness and loss of feeling in the
chest. After the second, he lost all power of perceiving external things,
except a terrible oppression on his chest, and he seemed sinking fast to
death! He had just consciousness enough to remove the mouth-piece from
his unclosed lips, when he became wholly insensible. After breathing the
common air for some time, consciousness was restored, and Mr. Davy
faintly uttered, as a consolation to his then attendant, Mr. John Tobin,
"I do not think I shall die."

Such are some of the appalling hazards encountered by M. Davy, in his
intrepid investigation of the gases. These destructive experiments,
during his residence at Bristol, probably, produced those affections of
the chest, to which he was subject through life, and which, beyond all
question, shortened his days. Nothing at this moment so excites my
surprise, as that Mr. D.'s life should have been protracted, with all his
unparalleled indifference concerning it, to the vast age, for him, of
fifty years.

I cannot here withhold an ungracious piece of information. In the
prospect of this establishment, great expectations had been raised, and
the afflicted of all descriptions, were taught to expect a speedy cure;
so that when the doors were opened, no less than seventy or eighty
patients, progressively applied for the gratuitous alleviation of their
maladies. But it is too great a tax on human patience, when cures are
always promised, but never come. No one recovery, in an obstinate case,
had occurred: in consequence of which, many patients became dissatisfied,
and remitted their attendance. Independently of which, an idea had become
prevalent amongst the crowd of afflicted, that they were merely made the
subjects of experiment, which thinned the ranks of the old applicants,
and intimidated new. It might be said, that patients after a certain
period had so ominously declined, that the very fire was likely to become
extinguished for want of fuel. In order that the trials might be
deliberately proceeded in, a fortunate thought occurred to Dr. Beddoes;
namely, not to _bribe_, but to _reward_ all persevering patients; for Mr.
Davy informed me, that, before the Pneumatic Institution was broken up,
they allowed every patient sixpence per diem; so that when all hopes of
cure had subsided, it became a mere pecuniary calculation with the
sufferers, whether, for a parish allowance of three shillings a week,
they should submit or not, to be drenched with these nauseous gases.

This Pneumatic Institution, though long in a declining state, protracted
its existence for more than two years, till the departure from Bristol of
Mr. D., and then by its failure, it established the useful negative fact,
however mortifying, that medical science was not to be improved through
the medium of factitious airs.

I happened to be present when Mr. W. Coates casually named to Mr. Davy,
then just turned of twenty, that his boy the preceding evening, had
accidentally struck one piece of cane against another, in the dark, and
which produced light. It was quite impressive to notice the intense
earnestness with which Mr. D. heard this fact which, by others, might
have been immediately forgotten. Mr. D. on the contrary, without
speaking, appeared lost in meditation. He subsequently commenced his
experiments on these canes, and thus communicated the results to his
friend Mr. Giddy, (now Gilbert).


"My dear friend,

... I have now just room to give you an account of the experiments I have
lately been engaged in.

_First_. One of Mr. Coates's children accidentally discovered that two
bonnet-canes rubbed together produced a faint light. The novelty of this
experiment induced me to examine it, and I found that the canes, on
collision, produced sparks of light, as brilliant as those from flint and
steel.

_Secondly_. On examining the epidermis, I found, when it was taken off,
that the canes no longer gave light on collision.

_Thirdly_. The epidermis, subjected to chemical analysis, had all the
properties of silex.

_Fourthly_, The similar appearance of the epidermis of reeds, corn, and
grasses, induced me to suppose that they also contained silex. By burning
them carefully and analyzing their ashes, I found that they contained it
in rather larger proportions than the canes.

_Fifthly_. The corn and grasses contain sufficient potash to form glass
with their flint. A very pretty experiment may be made on these plants
with the blowpipe. If you take a straw of wheat, barley, or hay, and burn
it, beginning at the top, and heating the ashes with a blue flame, you
will obtain a perfect globule of hard glass, fit for microscopic
discovery."


The circumstance, that all canes, as well as straws and hollow grasses,
have an epidermis of silex, is one of the most singular facts in nature.
Mr. Davy, in another place, has stated the advantages arising to this
class of vegetables, from their stony external concretion: namely, "the
defence it offers from humidity; the shield which it presents to the
assaults of insects; and the strength and stability that it administers
to plants, which, from being hollow, without this support, would be less
perfectly enabled to resist the effect of storms.

Those canes which are not hollow, are long and slender, and from wanting
the power to sustain themselves, come usually in contact with the ground,
when they would speedily decay, from moisture, but from the impenetrable
coat of mail with which nature has furnished them. But questions still
arise for future investigators. How came the matter of flint to invest
those plants which most need it, and not others? Whence does this silex
come? Is it derived from the air, or from water, or from the earth? That
it emanates from the atmosphere is wholly inadmissible. If the silex
proceed from water, where is the proof? and how is the superficial
deposit effected? Also, as silex is not a constituent part of water, if
incorporated at all, it can be held only in solution. By what law is this
solution produced, so that the law of gravity should be suspended? If the
silex be derived from the earth, by what vessels is it conveyed to the
surface of the plants? and, in addition, if earth be its source, how is
it that earth-seeking, and hollow plants, with their epidermis of silex,
should arise in soils that are not silicious? being equally predominant,
whether the soil be calcareous, argillaceous, or loamy. The decomposition
of decayed animal and vegetable substances, doubtless composes the
richegt superficial mould; but this soil, so favorable for vegetation,
gives the reed as much silex, but no more, in proportion to the size of
the stalk, than the same plants growing in mountainous districts, and
primitive soils. It is to be regretted, that the solution of these
questions, with others that might be enumerated, had not occupied the
profoundly investigating spirit of Mr. Davy; but which subjects now offer
an ample scope for other philosophical speculators.

It is a demonstrative confirmation of the accuracy of Mr. Davy's
reasoning, that a few years ago, after the burning of a large mow, in the
neighbourhood of Bristol, a stratum of pure, compact, vitrified silex
appeared at the bottom, forming one continuous sheet, nearly an inch in
thickness. I secured a portion, which, with a steel, produced an
abundance of bright sparks.

Upon Mr. Coleridge's return from the north, to Bristol, where he meant to
make some little stay, I felt peculiar pleasure in introducing him to
young Mr. Davy. The interview was mutually agreeable, and that which does
not often occur, notwithstanding their raised expectations, each,
afterward, in referring to the other, expressed to me the opinion, that
his anticipations had been surpassed. They frequently met each other
under my roof, and their conversations were often brilliant; intermixed,
occasionally, with references to the scenes of their past lives.

Mr. Davy told of a Cornish young man, of philosophical habits, who had
adopted the opinion that a firm mind might endure in silence, any degree
of pain: showing the supremacy of "mind over matter." His theory once met
with an unexpected confutation. He had gone one morning to bathe in
Mount's Bay, and as he bathed, a crab griped his toe, when the young
philosopher roared loud enough to be heard at Penzance.[74]

Mr. Coleridge related the following occurrence, which he received from
his American friend, Mr. Alston, illustrating the effect produced on a
young man, at Cambridge University, near Boston, from a fancied
apparition. "A certain youth," he said, "took it into his head to convert
a Tom-Painish companion of his, by appearing as a ghost before him. He
accordingly dressed himself in the usual way, having previously extracted
the ball from the pistol which always lay near the head of his friend's
bed. Upon first awaking and seeing the apparition, A. the youth who was
to be frightened, suspecting a trick, very coolly looked his companion,
the ghost, in the face, and said, 'I know you. This is a good joke, but
you see I am not frightened. Now you may vanish.' The ghost stood still.
'Come,' said A. 'that is enough. I shall get angry. Away!' Still the
ghost moved not. Exclaimed A. 'If you do not in one minute go away, I
will shoot you.' He waited the time, deliberately levelled his pistol,
fired, and with a scream at the motionless immobility of the figure, was
convinced it was a real ghost--became convulsed, and from the fright,
afterwards died."

Mr. Coleridge told also of his reception at an Hessian village, after his
visit to the Hartz mountains, and the Brocken. Their party consisted of
himself, Mr. Carlyon, and the two Mr. Parrys. (sons of Dr. Parry, of
Bath--one of them the Arctic explorer). The four pedestrians entered the
village late of an evening, and repaired to the chief ale-house, wearied
with a hard day's journey, in order to be refreshed and to rest for the
night. The large room contained many of the neighbouring peasants. "What
can we have to eat?" said Mr. Coleridge. "Nothing," was the reply. "Can
we have beds?" "No," answered the master of the house. "Can we have some
straw on which to lie?" "None, none," was the reply. On which Mr.
Coleridge cried out, "Are the Hessians Christians?" To have their
Christianity doubted, was an insufferable insult, and to prove their
religion, one man in a rage, hurled a log of wood at Mr. C., which, if it
had struck him, would have laid him prostrate! But more effectually to
prove that they were Christians, "good and true," the men, in fierce
array, now marched up, and roughly drove the saucy Englanders out of the
house, to get lodgings where they could. From the extreme wrath of the
insulted peasants, the travellers were apprehensive of some worse
assault; and hurrying out of the village, weary, and hunger-smitten,
bivouacked under a tree, determined never again to question a Hessian's
Christianity, even under the gallows.

On one occasion, Mr. Coleridge entered into some of his college scenes,
to one of which I may here refer. He said that, perhaps, it was culpable
in him not to have paid more attention to his dress than he did when at
the University, but the great excluded the little. He said that he was
once walking through a street in Cambridge, leaning on the arms of two
_silk gowns_, when his own habiliments formed rather a ludicrous
contrast. His cap had the merit of having once been new; and some
untoward rents in his gown, which he had a month before intended to get
mended, left a strong tendency, in some of its posterior parts, to trail
along the ground in the form, commonly called "tatters." The three
friends were settling the exact site of Troy, or some other equally
momentous subject, when they were passed by two spruce gownsmen, one of
whom said to the other, which just caught the ear of Mr. C., "That sloven
thinks he can hide his ribbons by the gowns of his companions." Mr. C.
darted an appalling glance at him, and passed on. He now learned the
name, and acquired some particulars respecting the young man who had
offended him, and hastened home to exercise his Juvenallian talent.

The next day he gave his satire to a friend, to show it to the young man,
who became quite alarmed at the mistake he had made, and also at the
ominous words, "He who wrote this can write more." The cauldron might
boil over with fresh "bubble, bubble, toil and trouble." There was no
time to lose. He therefore immediately proceeded to Mr. C.'s chambers;
apologized for his inconsiderate expressions; thought him to have been
some "rough colt," from the country, again begged his pardon, and
received the hand of reconciliation. This young, miscalculating
Cantabrigian, now became one of Mr. C.'s warmest friends, and rose to
eminence.[75]

The satire was singularly cutting. I can recall but two unconnected
lines:

"With eye that looks around with asking gaze,
And tongue that traffics in the trade of praise."[76]

Mr. Coleridge now told us of the most remarkable of his Cambridge
eccentricities, that of his having enlisted as a soldier. He had
previously stated to me many of the following particulars, yet not the
whole; but (having taken a deep interest in this singular adventure,) in
addition to that which I heard from Mr. C., who never told all the
incidents of his military life to any one person, but on the contrary,
detailed some few to one, and some few to another, I made a point of
collecting from different friends, every scattered fact I could obtain,
and shall now throw the whole into one narrative.

But before I proceed, I must take some notice of a statement on this
subject, communicated to the public, by Mr. Bowles, wherein his account
appears to clash with mine. Of this gentleman (with whose name and
writings I have connected so many pleasant remembrances, from early
life,) I wish to speak with the utmost respect; but the truth Mr. B.
himself will be glad to learn.

Mr. Bowles states a circumstance relating to what he calls, "The most
correct, sublime, chaste, and beautiful of Mr. Coleridge's poems; the
'Religious Musings;'" namely, that "it was written, non inter sylvas
academi, but in the tap-room at Reading." This information could not have
been received from Mr. C. but perhaps was derived from the imperfect
recollection of Captain O.; but whoever the informant may have been, the
assertion has not the merit of being founded on a shadow of accuracy. The
poem of the "Religious Musings" was not written "in the tap-room at
Reading," nor till long after Mr. C. had quitted his military life. It
was written partly at Stowey; partly on Redcliff Hill; and partly in my
parlour, where both Mr. Coleridge and Mr. Southey occasionally wrote
their verses. This will have sufficiently appeared by Mr. C.'s own
letters; to which I could add other decisive evidence, if the subject
were of more consequence.

I now proceed with the narrative of Mr. Coleridge's military adventures,
chiefly collected from himself, but not inconsiderably from the
information of other of his more intimate friends; particularly R.
Lovell; although I must apprise the reader that after a lapse of forty
years, I cannot pledge myself for every individual word: a severity of
construction which neither my memoranda nor memory would authorize. In
order not to interrupt the reader, by stating that this was derived from
one source, and that from another, (at this time hardly to be separated
in my own mind) I shall narrate it as though Mr. Coleridge had related
the whole at once, to Mr. Davy and myself.

* * * * *

Mr. Coleridge now told us of one of his Cambridge eccentricities which
highly amused us. He said that he had paid his addresses to a Mary Evans,
who, rejecting his offer, he took it so much in dudgeon, that he withdrew
from the University to London, when, in a reckless state of mind, he
enlisted in the 15th, Elliot's Light Dragoons. No objection having been
taken to his height or age, he was asked his name. He had previously
determined to give one that was thoroughly Kamschatkian, but having
noticed that morning over a door in Lincoln's Inn Fields, (or the Temple)
the name of "Cumberbatch," (not Comberback) he thought this word
sufficiently outlandish, and replied "Silas Tomken Cumberbatch,"[77] and
such was the entry in the regimental book.

Here, in his new capacity, laborious duties devolved on Mr. C. He
endeavoured to think on Caesar, and Epaminondas, and Leonidas, with other
ancient heroes, and composed himself to his fate; remembering, in every
series, there must be a commencement: but still he found confronting him
no imaginary inconveniences. Perhaps he who had most cause for
dissatisfaction, was the drill sergeant, who thought his professional
character endangered; for after using his utmost efforts to bring his raw
recruit into something like training, he expressed the most serious
fears, from his unconquerable awkwardness, that he never should be able
to make _a soldier of him!_

Mr. C. it seemed, could not even rub down his own horse, which, however,
it should be known, was rather a restive one, who, like Cowper's hare,
"would bite if he could," and in addition, kick not a little. We could
not suppose that these predispositions in the martial steed were at all
aggravated by the unskilful jockeyship to which he was subjected, but the
sensitive quadruped did rebel a little in the stable, and wince a little
in the field! Perhaps the poor animal was something in the state of the
horse that carried Mr. Wordsworth's "Idiot Boy," who, in his sage
contemplations, "wondered"--"What he had got upon his back!" This rubbing
down his horse was a constant source of annoyance to Mr. C., who thought
that the most rational way was,--to let the horse rub himself down,
shaking himself clean, and so to shine in all his native beauty; but on
this subject there were two opinions, and his that was to decide carried
most weight. If it had not been for the foolish and fastidious taste of
the ultra precise sergeant, this whole mass of trouble might be avoided,
but seeing the thing must be done, or punishment! he set about the
herculean task with the firmness of a Wallenstein; but lo! the paroxysm
was brief, in the necessity that called it forth. Mr. C. overcame this
immense difficulty, by bribing a young man of the regiment to perform the
achievement for him; and that on very easy terms; namely, by writing for
him some "Love Stanzas," to send to his sweetheart!

Mr. Coleridge, in the midst of all his deficiencies, it appeared, was
liked by the men, although he was the butt of the whole company; being
esteemed by them as next of kin to a natural, though of a peculiar
kind--a talking natural. This fancy of theirs was stoutly resisted by the
love-sick swain, but the regimental logic prevailed; for, whatever they
could do, with masterly dexterity, he could not do at all, ergo, must he
not be a natural? There was no man in the regiment who met with so many
falls from his horse, as Silas Tomken Cumberbatch! He often calculated
with so little precision his due equilibrium, that, in mounting on one
side, (perhaps the wrong stirrup) the probability was, especially if his
horse moved a little, that he lost his balance, and, if he did not roll
back on this side, came down ponderously on the other! when the laugh
spread amongst the men, "Silas is off again!" Mr. C. had often heard of
campaigns, but he never before had so correct an idea of hard service.

Some mitigation was now in store for Mr. C. arising out of a whimsical
circumstance. He had been placed as a sentinel, at the door of a
ball-room, or some public place of resort, when two of his officers,
passing in, stopped for a moment, near Mr. C., talking about Euripides,
two lines from whom, one of them repeated. At the sound of Greek, the
sentinel instinctively turned his ear, when he said, with all deference,
touching his lofty cap, "I hope your honour will excuse me, but the lines
you have repeated are not quite accurately cited. These are the lines,"
when he gave them in their more correct form. "Besides," said Mr. C.,
"instead of being in Euripides, the lines will be found in the second
antistrophe of the 'Aedipus of Sophocles.'" "Why, man, who are you?" said
the officer, "old Faustus ground young again?" "I am your honour's humble
sentinel," said Mr. C., again touching his cap.

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