Reminiscences of Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Robert Southey

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

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My leisure having been devoted for many years to reading and composition,
and having a small volume of Poems at that time in the press, I
anticipated great pleasure from an introduction to two poets, who
superadded to talents of a high order, all the advantages arising from
learning, and a consequent familiarity with the best models of antiquity.
Independently of which, they excited an interest, and awakened a peculiar
solicitude, from their being about so soon to leave their father land,
and to depart permanently for a foreign shore.

* * * * *

[Illustration: Portrait.]

* * * * *

One morning shortly after, Robert Lovell called on me, and introduced
Robert Southey. Never will the impression be effaced, produced on me by
this young man. Tall, dignified, possessing great suavity of manners; an
eye piercing, with a countenance full of genius, kindliness, and
intelligence, I gave him at once the right hand of fellowship, and to the
moment of his decease, that cordiality was never withdrawn. I had read so
much of poetry, and sympathized so much with poets in all their
eccentricities and vicissitudes, that, to see before me the realization
of a character, which in the abstract most absorbed my regards, gave me a
degree of satisfaction which it would be difficult to express.

I must now make a brief reference to George Burnet, who, in this epidemic
delusion, had given his sanction to, and embarked all his prospects in
life on this Pantisocratical scheme. He was a young man, about the age of
twenty; the son of a respectable Somersetshire farmer, who had bestowed
on him his portion, by giving him an University education as an
introduction to the Church, into which he would probably have entered but
for this his transatlantic pursuit of happiness. His talents were not
conspicuous, but his manners were unpresuming, and honesty was depicted
on his countenance. He possessed also that habitual good temper, and
those accommodating manners, which would prove a desirable accession in
any society; and it soon appeared, without indicating any disrespect,
that his was a subordinate part to act in the new drama, and not the less
valuable for its wanting splendour.

After some considerable delay, it was at length announced, that on the
coming morning Samuel Taylor Coleridge would arrive in Bristol, as the
nearest and most convenient port; and where he was to reside but a short
time before the favouring gales were to waft him and his friends across
the Atlantic. Robert Lovell at length introduced Mr. C. I instantly
descried his intellectual character; exhibiting as he did, an eye, a
brow, and a forehead, indicative of commanding genius. Interviews
succeeded, and these increased the impression of respect. Each of my new
friends read me his productions. Each accepted my invitations, and gave
me those repeated proofs of good opinion, ripening fast into esteem, that
I could not be insensible to the kindness of their manners, which, it may
truly be affirmed, infused into my heart a brotherly feeling, that more
than identified their interests with my own.

I introduced them to several intelligent friends, and their own merits
soon augmented the number, so that their acquaintance became
progressively extended, and their society coveted. Bristol was now found
a very pleasant residence; and though the ship was not engaged, nor the
least preparation made for so long a voyage, still the delights and
wide-spreading advantages of Pantisocracy formed one of their everlasting
themes of conversation; and, considering the barrenness of the subject,
it was in no common degree amusing, to hear these young enthusiasts repel
every objection to the practicability of their scheme, and magnify the
condition to which it was to introduce them; where thorns and briars
were, no doubt, to be expelled, and their couch to be strewed with down
and roses.

It will excite merely an innocent smile in the reader at the extravagance
of a youthful and ardent mind, when he learns that Robert Lovell stated
with great seriousness, that, after the minutest calculation and inquiry
among practical men, the demand on their labour would not exceed two
hours a day; that is, for the production of absolute necessaries. The
leisure still remaining, might be devoted, in convenient fractions, to
the extension of their domain, by prostrating the sturdy trees of the
forest, where "lop and top," without cost, would supply their cheerful
winter fire; and the trunks, when cut into planks, without any other
expense than their own pleasant labour, would form the sties for their
pigs, and the linnies for their cattle, and the barns for their produce;
reserving their choicest timbers for their own comfortable log-dwellings.
But after every claim that might be made on their manual labour had been
discharged, a large portion of time, would still remain for their own
individual pursuits, so that they might read, converse, and even write
books.

Cowper, in an unpublished letter now before me, says, "I know well that
publication is necessary to give an edge to the poetic turn, and that
what we produce in the closet, is never a vigorous birth, if we intend
that it should die there. For my own part I could no more amuse myself
with writing verse, if I did not print it when written, than with the
study of tactics, for which I can never have any real occasion." But our
young and ardent friends seemed to entertain a strong impression that the
mere pleasure of writing, that is, like virtue, writing for its own sake,
was all the mental and rational gratification wise men could desire.
Views and times alter, and these richly-endowed young men, in after life,
were prompt, and amongst the first to confess the fallacious schemes of
their youth; but at this time the pleasurable alone occupied their field
of vision, and confidence never stood more unencumbered with doubt.

If any difficulties were now started, and many such there were, a
profusion of words demonstrated the reasonableness of the whole design;
impressing all who heard, with the conviction that the citadel was too
strong for assault. The Mercury at these times was generally Mr.
Coleridge, who, as has been stated, ingeniously parried every adverse
argument, and after silencing his hardy disputants, announced to them
that he was about to write and publish a quarto volume in defence of
Pantisocracy, in which a variety of arguments would be advanced in
defence of his system, too subtle and recondite to comport with
conversation. It would then, he said, become manifest that he was not a
projector raw from his cloister, but a cool calculating reasoner, whose
efforts and example would secure to him and his friends the permanent
gratitude of mankind.

From the sentiments thus entertained, I shall represent Mr. Coleridge, in
the section of his days which devolves on me to exhibit, just as he was,
and that with a firm belief that by so doing, without injuring his
legitimate reputation, I shall confer an essential benefit on those to
come, who will behold in Mr. C. much to admire and imitate; and certainly
some things to regret. For it should be remembered, Mr. Coleridge, from
universal admission, possessed some of the highest mental endowments, and
many pertaining to the heart; but if a man's life be valuable, not for
the incense it consumes, but for the instruction it affords, to state
even defects, (in one like Mr. C. who can so well afford deduction
without serious loss) becomes in his biographer, not optional, but a
serious obligation.

It is proper additionally to remark, that some apology or propitiation
may be necessary toward those who regard every approximation to poverty,
not as a misfortune, but a crime. Pecuniary difficulties, especially such
as occur in early life, and not ascribable to bad conduct, reflect no
discredit on men of genius. Many of them, subsequently, surmounted their
first embarrassments by meritorious exertion; and some of our first men
(like travellers, after having successfully passed through regions of
privation and peril) delight even to recall their former discouragements,
and, without the shame that luxuriates alone in little minds,
undisguisedly to tell of seasons, indelible in their memories, when, in
the prostration of hope, the wide world appeared one desolate waste! but
they ultimately found, that these seasons of darkness, (however
tenaciously retained by memory) in better times often administer a new
and refreshing zest to present enjoyment. Despair, therefore ill becomes
one who has follies to bewail, and a God to trust in. Johnson and
Goldsmith, with numerous others, at some seasons were plunged deep in the
waters of adversity, but halcyon days awaited them: and even those sons
of merit and misfortune whose pecuniary troubles were more permanent, in
the dimness of retrospection, only stand out invested in softer hues.

Cervantes is not the less read, because the acclamations of praise were
heard by him in his abode of penury. Butler, Otway, Collins, Chatterton,
and Burns, and men like them, instead of suffering in public estimation
from the difficulties they encountered, absolutely challenge in every
generous mind an excess of interest from the very circumstances that
darkened the complexion of their earthly prospects.

In corroboration of this remark, in our own day, the son of Crabbe, who
must have cherished the deepest solicitude for his father's reputation,
has laid bare to general inspection his parent's early perplexities, by
which impartial disclosures we behold the individual in his deepest
depressions; worth enriched by trial, and greatness, by a refining
process, struggling successfully with adversity. Does the example of such
a man nobly bearing up against the pressures that surrounded him inflict
obduracy on our hearts? On the contrary, while we feelingly sympathize
with the poet, and deplore the tardy hand of deliverance, we pause only
to transfer a reflex portion of praise to him whose magnanimous conduct
has furnished so ample a scope for the tenderest emotions of our nature.
This reflection will induce me not to withhold from false delicacy,
occurrences, the disclosure of which none but the inconsiderate will
condemn; and by which all the features of Mr. Coleridge's character will
be exhibited to the inspection of the inquisitive and philosophical mind.

I proceed, therefore, to state that the solicitude I felt lest these
young and ardent geniuses should in a disastrous hour, and in their
mistaken apprehensions, commit themselves in this their desperate
undertaking, was happily dissipated by Mr. Coleridge applying for the
loan of a little cash,--to pay the voyager's freight? or passage?
No,--LODGINGS. They all lodged, at this time, at No. 48, College-Street.
Never did I lend money with such unmingled pleasure, for now I ceased to
be haunted day and night with the spectre of the ship! the ship! which
was to effect such incalculable mischief! The form of the request was the
following:

My dear Sir,

Can you conveniently lend me five pounds, as we want a little more than
four pounds to make up our lodging bill, which is indeed much higher than
we expected; seven weeks, and Burnet's lodging for twelve weeks,
amounting to eleven pounds.

Yours, affectionately,

S. T. COLERIDGE.

Till this time, not knowing what the resources of my young friends were,
I could not wholly divest myself of fear; but now an effectual barrier
manifestly interposed to save them from destruction. And though their
romantic plan might linger in their minds, it was impossible not to be
assured that their strong good sense would eventually dissipate their
delusions.

Finding now that there was a deficiency in that material, deemed of the
first consequence in all civilized states, and remembering Burgh's
feeling lamentation over the improvidence, or rather the indifference
with which many men of genius regard the low thoughts that are merely of
a pecuniary nature, I began to revolve on the means by which the two
poets might advantageously apply their talents.

Soon after, finding Mr. Coleridge in rather a desponding mood, I urged
him to keep up his spirits, and recommended him to publish a volume of
his poems. "Oh," he replied, "that is a useless expedient." He continued:
"I offered a volume of my poems to different booksellers in London, who
would not even look at them! The reply being, 'Sir, the article will not
do.' At length, one, more accommodating than the rest, condescended to
receive my MS. poems, and, after a deliberate inspection, offered me for
the copy-right, six guineas, which sum, poor as I was, I refused to
accept." "Well," said I, "to encourage you, I will give you twenty
guineas." It was very pleasant to observe the joy that instantly diffused
itself over his countenance. "Nay," I continued, "others publish for
themselves, I will chiefly remember you. Instead of giving you twenty
guineas, I will extend it to thirty, and without waiting for the
completion of the work, to make you easy you may have the money as your
occasions require." The silence and the grasped hand, showed that at that
moment one person was happy.

Every incident connected with the lives of literary men, especially at
the commencement of their career, always excites interest. I have been,
therefore, the more particular in detailing this circumstance, (except
for its connexion, of no consequence) and proceed further to state, that
now, meeting Mr. Southey, I said to him, "I have engaged to give Mr.
Coleridge thirty guineas for a volume of his poems; you have poems equal
to a volume, and if you approve of it, I will give you the same." He
cordially thanked me, and instantly acceded to my proposal.

I then said to him, "you have read me several books of your 'Joan of Arc'
which Poem I perceive has great merit. If it meet with your concurrence,
I will give you fifty guineas for this work, and publish it in quarto,
when I will give you, in addition, fifty copies to dispose of amongst
your friends." Without a moment's hesitation, to this proposal also he
acceded.

I could say much of Mr. Southey at this time; of his constitutional
cheerfulness; of the polish of his manners; of his dignified, and at the
same time, of his unassuming deportment; as well as of the general
respect which his talents, conduct, and conversation excited.[3] But
before reference be made to more serious publications, some notice will
be taken of other objects of pursuit.

Mr. Coleridge and Mr. Southey, now determined by their best efforts, in
other ways than those detailed, to raise money for their projected
expedition. They resolved therefore, to give the citizens of Bristol
individual lectures, or series of lectures, on different subjects. Mr.
Coleridge chose Political and Moral subjects;[4] Mr. Southey chose
History. On examining my old papers, I find most of the notices or
prospectuses relating to these subjects.

Mr. Coleridge's first two lectures were delivered in the Corn Market in
Wine-Street.

Mr. Coleridge's next two lectures were delivered the latter end of
February, 1795, and afterwards were thrown into a small pamphlet, printed
under the title of _"Conciones ad Populum_, or Addresses to the people."
After this he consolidated two other of his lectures, and published them
under the title of "The Plot Discovered." Two detached lectures were
given at the Corn Market, and one at a room in Castle Green. All these
lectures were anti-Pitt-ite.

The next lecture given by Mr. Coleridge was in reprobation of the Slave
Trade. The following was the prospectus:--

"To-morrow evening, June 16th, 1795, S. T. Coleridge, of Jesus
College, Cambridge, will deliver, (by particular desire) a lecture on
the Slave Trade, and the duties that result from its continuance.

To begin at eight o'clock in the evening, at the Assembly Coffee
House, on the Quay. Admission, One shilling."

His next lecture was (it is believed) on the Hair Powder Tax, in which
his audience were kept in good feeling, by the happy union of wit,
humour, and argument. Mr. C.'s lectures were numerously attended, and
enthusiastically applauded.

It may amuse and gratify the reader, to receive a specimen of a
lecture,[5] descriptive of Mr. C.'s composition and reasoning, delivered
at this time, and by which it will appear that his politics were not of
that inflammable description which would set a world in flames.

"... But of the propriety and utility of holding up the distant mark
of attainable perfection, we shall enter more fully toward the close
of this address. We turn with pleasure to the contemplation of that
small but glorious band, whom we may truly distinguish by the name of
thinking and disinterested patriots.[6] These are the men who have
encouraged the sympathetic passions till they have become
irresistible habits, and made their duty a necessary part of their
self-interest, by the long-continued cultivation of that moral taste,
which derives our most exquisite pleasures from the contemplation of
possible perfection.

Accustomed to regard all the affairs of man as a process, they never
hurry, and they never pause. Theirs is not the twilight of political
knowledge, which gives us just light enough to place one foot before
the other: as they advance, the scene still opens upon them, and they
press right onward, with a vast and varied landscape of existence
around them. Calmness and energy mark all their actions. Benevolence
is the silken thread that runs through the pearl-chain of all their
virtues. The unhappy children of vice and folly, whose tempers are
adverse to their own happiness, as well as to the happiness of
others, will at times awaken a natural pang, but he looks forward
with gladdened heart to that glorious period when justice shall have
established the universal fraternity of love. These soul-ennobling
views bestow the virtues which they anticipate. He whose mind is
habitually impressed with them, soars above the present state of
humanity, and may be justly said to dwell in the presence of the Most
High. Regarding every event, as he that ordains it, evil vanishes
from before him, and he views the eternal form of universal beauty."

At one of his lectures, Mr. Coleridge amused his audience by reciting the
following letter from Liberty to his dear friend Famine; the effect of
which was greatly heightened by Mr. C.'s arch manner of recitation. It
should be understood that there was at this time a great scarcity in the
land.

Dear Famine,

You will doubtless be surprised at receiving a petitionary letter
from a perfect stranger, but, _Fas est vel ab hoste_. All whom I once
supposed my unalterable friends, I have found unable, or unwilling to
assist me. I first applied to GRATITUDE, entreating her to whisper
into the ear of Majesty, that it was I who had placed his forefathers
on the throne of Great Britain. She told me that she had frequently
made the attempt, but had as frequently been baffled by FLATTERY:
and, that I might not doubt the truth of her apology, she led me (as
the Spirit did the prophet Ezekiel) "to the door of the COURT, and I
went in and saw--and behold! every form of creeping things." I was
however somewhat consoled, when I heard that RELIGION was high in
favour there, and possessed great influence. I myself had been her
faithful servant, and always found her my best protectress: her
service being indeed perfect freedom. Accordingly, in full confidence
of success, I entered her mansion, but, alas! instead of my kind
mistress, horror-struck, I beheld a painted, patched-up old ----. She
was arrayed in purple and scarlet colour, and decked with gold and
precious stones and pearls, and on her forehead was written
"MYSTERY." I shrieked, for I knew her to be the dry-nurse of that
detested Imp, DESPOTISM.

I next addressed myself to PRUDENCE, and earnestly besought her to
plead my cause to the Ministers; to urge the distresses of the lower
orders, and my fears lest, so distressed, they should forget their
obedience. For the prophet Isaiah had informed me "that it shall come
to pass, that when the people shall be hungry, they shall fret
themselves and curse the King." The grave matron heard me, and,
shaking her head, learnedly replied, "_Quos Deus vult perdere
dementat._" Again I besought her to speak to the rich men of the
nation, concerning Ministers, of whom it might soon become illegal
even to complain--of long and ruinous wars, and whether _they_ must
not bear the damage. All this quoth PRUDENCE, I have repeatedly
urged, but a sly imposter named EXPEDIENCE has usurped my name, and
struck such a panick of property, as hath steeled the hearts of the
wealthy, and palsied their intellects. Lastly I applied to
CONSCIENCE. She informed me that she was indeed a perfect
ventriloquist, and could throw her voice into any place she liked,
but that she was seldom attended to unless when she spoke out of the
_pocket_.

Thus baffled and friendless, I was about to depart, and stood a
fearful lingerer on the isle which I had so dearly loved--when
tidings were brought me of your approach. I found myself impelled by
a power superior to me to build my last hopes on you. Liberty, the
MOTHER of PLENTY, calls Famine to her aid. O FAMINE, most eloquent
Goddess! plead thou my cause. I in the mean time, will pray fervently
that heaven may unstop the ears of her Vicegerent, so that they may
listen to your _first_ pleadings, while yet your voice is faint and
distant, and your counsels peaceable.

"I remain your distressed suppliant,

LIBERTY.

The following is the prospectus of Mr. Coleridge's series of Political
lectures.

S. T. Coleridge proposes to give, in Six Lectures, a comparative view
of the English Rebellion under Charles the First, and the French
Revolution.

The subjects of the proposed Lectures are,

FIRST. The distinguishing marks of the French and English character,
with their probable causes. The national circumstances precursive
to--1st, the English Rebellion.--2nd, the French Revolution.

SECOND. The Liberty of the Press. Literature; its Revolutionary
powers. Comparison of the English, with the French Political Writers,
at the time of the several Revolutions. Milton. Sydney.
Harrington.--Brissot. Sieyes. Mirabeau. Thomas Paine.

THIRD. The Fanaticism of the first English and French Revolutionists.
English Sectaries. French Parties. Feuillans. Girondists. Faction of
Hebert. Jacobins. Moderants. Royalists.

FOURTH. 1st, Characters of Charles the First, and Louis the
Sixteenth. 2nd, of Louis the Fourteenth and the present Empress of
Russia. 3rd, Life and Character of Essex and Fayette.

FIFTH. Oliver Cromwell, and Robespierre.--Cardinal Mazarine, and
William Pitt.--Dundas, and Barrere.

SIXTH. On Revolution in general. Its moral causes, and probable
effects on the Revolutionary People, and surrounding nations.

It is intended that the Lectures should be given once a week; on
Tuesday Evenings, at eight o'clock, at the Assembly Coffee House, on
the Quay. The First Lecture, on Tuesday, June 23d, 1795. As the
author wishes to ensure an audience adequate to the expenses of the
room, he has prepared subscription tickets for the whole course,
price Six Shillings, which may be had at the Lecture Room, or of Mr.
Cottle, or Mr. Reed, Booksellers.

Mr. Coleridge's Theological lectures succeeded, of which the following is
the prospectus.

Six Lectures will be given by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, on Revealed
Religion, its Corruptions, and its Political Views.

These Lectures are intended for two classes of men, Christians and
Infidels; to the former, that they be able to give a reason for the
hope that is in them; to the latter, that they may not determine
against Christianity, from arguments applicable to its corruptions
only.

The subjects of the FIRST LECTURE, are--The Origin of Evil. The
Necessity of Revelation deduced from the Nature of man. An
Examination and Defence of the Mosaic Dispensation.

SECOND.--The Sects of Philosophy, and the Popular Superstitions of
the Gentile World, from the earliest times to the Birth of Christ.

THIRD.--Concerning the Time of the Appearance of Christ. The Internal
Evidences of Christianity. The External Evidences of Christianity.

FOURTH.--The External Evidences of Christianity continued. Answers to
Popular and Philosophical objections.

FIFTH.--The Corruptions of Christianity, in Doctrines. Political
Application.

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