Various - "Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 159, December 29, 1920"

Richard F. Burton - "The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, Volume 2"

C. P. Gasquoine - "The Story of the Cambrian"

Charles Bennett - "The Frog Who Would A Wooing Go"

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




Soon after the foregoing incident, Mr. Coleridge said, he found himself
in a large party, at the house of a man of letters, amongst whom to his
surprise, he saw Mr. and Mrs. Holcroft, when, to incite to a renewal of
their late dispute, and before witnesses, (in the full consciousness of
strength) Mr. C. enforced the propriety of teaching children, as soon as
they could articulate, to lisp the praises of their Maker; "for," said
he, "though they can, form no correct idea of God, yet they entertain a
high opinion of their _father_, and it is an easy introduction to the
truth, to tell them that their Heavenly Father is stronger, and wiser,
and better, than their _earthly_ father."

The whole company looked at Mr. Holcroft, implying that _now_ was the
time for him to meet a competent opponent, and justify sentiments which
he had so often triumphantly advanced. They looked in vain. He
maintained, to their surprise, a total silence, well remembering the
severe castigation he had so recently received. But a very different
effect was produced on Mrs. Holcroft. She indignantly heard, and giving
vent to her passion and her _tears_, said, she was quite surprised at Mr.
Coleridge talking in that way before her, when he knew that both herself
and Mr. Holcroft were atheists!

Mr. C. spoke of the unutterable horror he felt, when Holcroft's son, a
boy eight years of age, came up to him and said, "There is no God!" So
that these wretched parents, alike father and mother, were as earnest in
inculcating atheism on their children, as christian parents are in
inspiring their offspring with respect for religious truth.

Actions are often the best illustration of principles. Mr. Coleridge also
stated the following circumstance, notorious at the time, as an evidence
of the disastrous effects of atheism. Holcroft's tyrannical conduct
toward his children was proverbial. An elder son, with a mind embued with
his father's sentiments, from extreme severity of treatment, had run away
from his paternal roof, and entered on board a ship. Holcroft pursued his
son, and when the fugitive youth saw his father in a boat, rowing toward
the vessel, rather than endure his frown and his chastisement, he seized
a pistol, and blew his brains out![85]

An easy transition having been made to the Bible, Mr. C. spoke of our
Saviour with an utterance so sublime and reverential, that none could
have heard him without experiencing an accession of love, gratitude, and
adorations to the Great Author of our salvation. He referred to the
Divinity of Christ, as a truth, incontestable to all who admitted the
inspiration, and consequent authority of Scripture. He particularly
alluded to the 6th of John, v. 15. "When Jesus perceived that they would
come and take him by force to make him a king, he departed again into a
mountain '_alone_.'" He said it characterized the low views, and
worldly-mindedness of the Jews, that, after they had seen the miracles of
Jesus Christ, and heard his heavenly doctrine, and had been told that his
kingdom was not of this world, they should think of conferring additional
honour on him, by making him their King! He departed from these little
views and scenes, _by night_, to a neighbouring mountain, and there, in
the spirit of _prescience_, meditated on his approaching crucifixion; on
that attendant guilt, which would bring on the Jews, wrath to the
uttermost, and terminate their impieties, by one million of their race
being swept from the face of the earth.


Mr. C. noticed Doddridge's works with great respect, particularly his
"Rise and Progress of Religion."[86] He thought favourably of Lord
Rochester's conversion as narrated by Burnet; spoke of Jeremy Taylor in
exalted terms, and thought the compass of his mind discovered itself in
none of his works more than in his "Life of Christ," extremely
miscellaneous as it was. He also expressed the strongest commendation of
Archbishop Leighton, whose talents were of the loftiest description, and
which were, at the same time, eminently combined with humility. He
thought Bishop Burnet's high character of Leighton justly deserved, and
that his whole conduct and spirit were more conformed to his Divine
Master, than almost any man on record.

I now proceed to say, it was with extreme reluctance that the Unitarians
in Bristol resigned their champion, especially as other defections had
recently occurred in their community, and that among the more
intellectual portion of their friends. Although the expectation might be
extravagant, they still cherished the hope, however languid, that Mr. C.
after some oscillations, would once more bestow on them his suffrage; but
an occurrence took place, which dissipated the last vestige of this hope,
and formed between them a permanent wall of separation.

Mr. Coleridge was lecturing in Bristol, surrounded by a numerous
audience, when, in referring to the "Paradise Regained," he said that
Milton had clearly represented Satan, as a "sceptical Socinian." This was
regarded as a direct and undisguised declaration of war. It so happened
that indisposition prevented me from attending that lecture, but I
received from Mr. C. directly after, a letter, in which he thus writes:


"... Mr. ---- I find is raising the city against me, as far as he and his
friends can, for having stated a mere matter of fact; viz. that Milton
had represented Satan as a sceptical Socinian; which is the case; and I
could not have explained the excellence of the sublimest single passage
in all his writings, had I not previously informed the audience, that
Milton had represented Satan, as knowing the Prophetic and Messianic
character of Christ, but was sceptical as to any higher claims. And what
other definition could Mr. ---- himself give of a sceptical Socinian?
(with this difference indeed, that Satan's faith somewhat exceeded that
of Socinians.) Now that Satan has done so, will you consult 'Paradise
Regained,' Book IV. from line 196, and the same Book, from line 500."


It is of consequence that Mr. Coleridge's _later_ sentiments on the
subject of Socinianism should be given; but as I had no opportunity of
ascertaining what those sentiments were, it was satisfactory to learn
from the testimony of Mr. C.'s "Table Talk,"[87] that his last and
maturest opinions were, to the fullest, confirmatory of those expressed
by him in these pages.

The following letter was written by Mr. Coleridge, to Mr. George Fricker,
his brother-in-law; it is believed in 1807. Mr. F. died 1828; pious and
respected.


"Saturday afternoon.

My dear young friend,

I am sorry that you should have felt any delicacy in disclosing to me
your religious feelings, as rendering it inconsistent with your
tranquillity of mind to spend the Sunday evening with me. Though I do not
find in that book, which we both equally revere, any command, either
express, or which I can infer, which leads me to attach any criminality
to cheerful and innocent social intercourse on the Lord's day; though I
do not find that it was in the least degree forbidden to the Jews on
their Sabbath; and though I have been taught by Luther, and the great
founders of the Church of England, that the Sabbath was a part of the
ceremonial and transitory parts of the law given by heaven to Moses; and
that our Sunday is binding on our consciences, chiefly from its manifest
and most awful usefulness, and indeed moral necessity; yet I highly
commend your firmness in what you think right, and assure you solemnly,
that I esteem you greatly for it. I would much rather that you should
have too much, than an atom too little. I am far from surprised that,
having seen what you have seen, and suffered what you have suffered, you
should have opened your soul to a sense of our fallen nature; and the
incapability of man to heal himself. My opinions may not be in all points
the same as yours; but I have experienced a similar alteration. I was for
many years a Socinian; and at times almost a Naturalist, but sorrow, and
ill health, and disappointment in the only deep wish I had ever
cherished, forced me to look into myself; I read the New Testament again,
and I became fully convinced, that Socinianism was not only not the
doctrine of the New Testament, but that it scarcely deserved the name of
a religion in any sense. An extract from a letter which I wrote a few
months ago to a sceptical friend, who had been a Socinian, and of course
rested all the evidences of christianity on miracles, to the exclusion of
grace and inward faith, will perhaps, surprise you, as showing you how
much nearer our opinions are than what you must have supposed. 'I fear
that the mode of defending christianity, adopted by Grotius first; and
latterly, among many others, by Dr. Paley, has increased the number of
infidels;--never could it have been so great, if thinking men had been
habitually led to look into their own souls, instead of always looking
out, both of themselves, and of their nature. If to curb attack, such as
yours on miracles, it had been answered:--"Well, brother! but granting
these miracles to have been in part the growth of delusion at the time,
and of exaggeration afterward, yet still all the doctrines will remain
untouched by this circumstance, and binding on thee. Still mast thou
repent and be regenerated, and be crucified to the flesh; and this not by
thy own mere power; but by a mysterious action of the moral Governor on
thee; of the Ordo-ordinians, the Logos, or Word. Still will the eternal
filiation, or Sonship of the Word from the Father; still will the Trinity
of the Deity, the redemption, and the thereto necessary assumption of
humanity by the Word, 'who is with God, and is God,' remain truths: and
still will the vital head-and-heart FAITH in these truths, be the living
and only fountain of all true virtue. Believe all these, and with the
grace of the spirit consult your own heart, in quietness and humility,
they will furnish you with proofs, that surpass all understanding,
because they are felt and known; believe all these I say, so as that thy
faith shall be not merely real in the acquiescence of the intellect; but
actual, in the thereto assimilated affections; then shalt thou KNOW from
God, whether or not Christ be of God. But take notice, I only say, the
miracles are extra essential; I by no means deny their importance, much
less hold them useless, or superfluous. Even as Christ did, so would I
teach; that is, build the miracle on the faith, not the faith on the
miracle."

May heaven bless you, my dear George, and

Your affectionate friend,

S. T. C."


In the intervening time, between the receipt of Mr. C.'s last letter, and
his calling on me, I received a note from a lady, an old friend, begging
permission to introduce to me, a clever young man of her acquaintance,
whom she even so honoured as to call "A little John Henderson;"
concerning whom, this young man wished to make inquiries. An invitation
immediately followed, and the lady introduced to me, young Mr. De
Quincey. Several interviews followed, each exhibiting his talents in a
more favourable view, till I was satisfied he would either shine in
literature, or, with steady perseverance, acquire eminence in either of
the professions.

He made many inquiries respecting John Henderson, of whose learning, and
surprising attainments, he had heard much. After conversing long on this
subject, Mr. De Q. asked me if I knew any thing of Mr. Coleridge's
pecuniary affairs. I replied, "I am afraid he is a legitimate son of
genius." He asked if I thought he would accept a hundred or two pounds. I
answered, I could not tell, but that I expected shortly to see him, when,
if he seriously desired to learn, I would ascertain what the state of his
finances was, and let him know. This he said, was his particular wish.

When Mr. Coleridge called on me, and the extended conversation had
occurred, before stated, I asked him concerning his circumstances. He
confessed that he had some present difficulties, which oppressed his
mind. He said that all the money he had received from his office in
Malta, as secretary to Sir Alexander Ball, had been expended in Italy,
and on his way home. I then told him, that a young man of fortune, who
admired his talents, had inquired of me, if I thought he would accept the
present of a hundred or two pounds, "and I now ask you," said I, "that
question, that I may return an answer." Mr. Coleridge rose from his seat.
He appeared much oppressed, and agitated, and, after a short silence, he
turned to me, and said. "Cottle I will write to you. We will change the
subject." The next day I received from Mr. C. the following letter.


"My dear Cottle,

Independent of letter-writing, and a dinner engagement with C. Danvers, I
was the whole of yesterday till evening, in a most wretched restlessness
of body and limbs, having imprudently discontinued some medicines, which
are now my anchor of hope. This morning I dedicate to certain distant
calls on Dr. Beddoes and Colston, at Clifton, not so much for the calls
themselves, as for the necessity of taking brisk exercise.

But no unforeseen accident intervening, I shall spend the evening with
you from seven o'clock.

I will now express my sentiments on the important subject communicated to
you. I need not say it has been the cause of serious meditation.
Undoubtedly, calamities have so thickened on me for the last two years,
that the pecuniary pressures of the moment, are the only serious
obstacles at present to my completion of those works, which, if
completed, would make me easy. Besides these, I have reason for belief
that a Tragedy of mine will be brought on the stage this season, the
result of which is of course only one of the possibilities of life, on
which I am not fool enough to calculate.

Finally therefore, if you know that any unknown benefactor is in such
circumstances, that, in doing what he offers to do, he transgresses no
duty of morals, or of moral prudence, and does not do that from feeling,
which after reflection might perhaps discountenance, I shall gratefully
accept it, as an unconditional loan, which I trust I shall be able to
restore at the close of two years. This however, I shall be able to know
at the expiration of one year, and shall then beg to know the name of my
benefactor, which I should then only feel delight in knowing, when I
could present to him some substantial proof, that I have employed the
tranquillity of mind, which his kindness has enabled me to enjoy, in
sincere desires to benefit my fellow men. May God bless you.

S. T. C."


Soon after the receipt of this letter, (on my invitation) Mr. De Quincey
called on me. I said, I understood from Mr. Coleridge himself, that he
laboured under embarrassments. "Then" said he, "I will give him five
hundred pounds." "Are you serious?" I said. He replied, "I am." I then
inquired, "Are you of age?" He said "I am." I then asked, "Can you afford
it?" He answered, "I can," and continued, "I shall not feel it." I
paused. "Well" I said, "I can know nothing of your circumstances but from
your own statement, and not doubting its accuracy, I am willing to become
an agent, in any way you prescribe." Mr. De Quincey then said, "I
authorise you, to ask Mr. Coleridge, if he will accept from a gentleman,
who admires his genius, the sum of five hundred pounds, but remember, he
continued, I absolutely prohibit you from naming to him, the source
whence it was derived." I remarked; "To the latter part of your
injunction, if you require it, I will accede, but although I am deeply
interested in Mr. Coleridge's welfare, yet a spirit of equity compels me
to recommend you, in the first instance, to present Mr. C. with a smaller
sum, and which, if you see it right, you can at any time, augment." Mr.
De Quincey then replied, "Three hundred pounds, I _will_ give him, and
you will oblige me by making this offer of mine to Mr. Coleridge." I
replied, "I will." I then gave him Mr. Coleridge's letter, requesting him
to put it in his pocket, and read it at his leisure. Soon after, I
received the following communication from Mr. De Quincey.


"My dear Sir,

I will write for the three hundred pounds to-morrow. I am not able to say
anything farther at present, but will endeavour to call on you in a day
or two. I am very sincerely, and with many thanks for your trouble in
this affair,

Yours,

Thomas De Quincey."


In a day or two, Mr. De Quincey enclosed me the three hundred pounds,
when I received from Mr. Coleridge, the following receipt, which I still
retain.


"November 12, 1807. Received from Mr. Joseph Cottle, the sum of three
hundred pounds, presented to me, through him, by an unknown friend.

Bristol.

S. T. Coleridge."


I have been thus particular in detailing the whole of this affair, so
honourable to Mr. De Quincey; and, as I was the communicating agent, I
thought it right, on this occasion, to give publicity to the transaction,
on the principle of doing justice to all. Notwithstanding the
prohibition, some indirect notices from myself, could have left no doubt
with Mr. C. of the source of this handsome gift.

It is singular, that a little before this time, (1807) Mr. Coleridge had
written to his friend Mr. Wade a melancholy letter, detailing his
embarrassed circumstances; so that Mr. De Quincey's L300 must have been
received at an acceptable time!

* * * * *

No date determines when the following letter was written: supposed, 1807.


"My dear Cottle,

... The common end of all narrative, nay, of all poems is, to convert a
series into a whole, to make those events, which, in real or imagined
history, move on in a straight line, assume to our understandings a
circular motion--the snake with its tail in its mouth. Hence, indeed, the
almost flattering and yet appropriate term, Poesy, i. e.
Poieses--_making_. Doubtless, to His eye, which alone comprehends all
past and all future, in one eternal, what to our short sight appears
straight, is but a part of the great cycle, just as the calm sea to us
appears level, though it be indeed only a part of the globe. Now what the
globe is in geography, miniaturing in order to manifest the truth, such
is a poem to that image of God, which we were created into, and which
still seeking that unity, or revelation of the one, in and by the many,
which reminds it, that though in order to be an individual being, it must
go farther from God; yet as the receding from him, is to proceed toward
nothingness and privation, it must still at every step turn back toward
him, in order to be at all. A straight line continually retracted, forms
of necessity a circular orbit. Now God's will and word CANNOT be
frustrated. His fiat was, with ineffable awfulness, applied to man, when
all things, and all living things, and man himself, (as a mere animal)
included, were called forth by the Universal, 'Let there be,' and then
the breath of the Eternal superadded, to make an immortal
spirit--immortality being, as the author of the 'Wisdom of Soloman'
profoundly expresses it, 'the only possible reflex, or image of
eternity.' The immortal finite is the contracted shadow of the eternal
Infinite. Therefore nothingness, or death, to which we move, as we recede
from God and from the Word, cannot be nothing; but that tremendous medium
between nothing and true being, which Scripture and inmost reason present
as most, most horrible!

Affectionately,

S. T. C."


The following letter to Mr. Wade has no date.


"Tuesday night, i. e. Wednesday morning.

My best and dearest friend,

I have barely time to scribble a few lines, so as not to miss the post,
for here as every where, there are charitable people, who, taking for
granted that you have no business of your own, would save from the pain
of vacancy, by employing you in theirs.

As to the letter you propose to write to a man who is unworthy even of a
rebuke from you, I might most unfeignedly object to some parts of it,
from a pang of conscience forbidding me to allow, even from a dear
friend, words of admiration, which are inapplicable in exact proportion
to the power given to me of having deserved them, if I had done my duty.

It is not of comparative utility I speak: for as to what has been
actually done, and in relation to useful effects produced, whether on the
minds of individuals, or of the public, I dare boldly stand forward, and
(let every man have his own, and that be counted mine which, but for, and
through me, would not have existed) will challenge the proudest of my
literary contemporaries to compare proofs with me, of usefulness in the
excitement of reflection, and the diffusion of original or forgotten,
yet necessary and important truths and knowledge; and this is not the
less true, because I have suffered others to reap all the advantages.
But, O dear friend, this consciousness, raised by insult of enemies, and
alienated friends, stands me in little stead to my own soul, in how
little then, before the all-righteous Judge! who, requiring back the
talents he had entrusted, will, if the mercies of Christ do not
intervene, not demand of me what I have done, but why I did not do more;
why, with powers above so many, I had sunk in many things below most! But
this is too painful, and in remorse we often waste the energy which
should be better employed in reformation--that essential part, and only
possible proof, of sincere repentance....

May God bless you, and your affectionate friend,

S. T. Coleridge."


Toward the end of 1807, Mr. Coleridge left Bristol, and I saw nothing
more of him for another seven years, that is, till 1814. All the leading
features in Mr. Coleridge's life, during these two septennial periods,
will no doubt, be detailed by others. My undertaking recommences in 1814.
Some preliminary remarks must precede the narrative, which has now
arrived at an important part.[88]

Neither to clothe the subject of biography with undeserved applause, nor
unmerited censure, but to present an exact portraiture, is the object
which ought scrupulously to be aimed at by every impartial writer. Is it
expedient; is it lawful; to give publicity to Mr. Coleridge's practice of
inordinately taking opium? which, to a certain extent, at one part of his
life, inflicted on a heart naturally cheerful, the stings of conscience,
and sometimes almost the horrors of despair? Is it right, in reference to
one who has passed his ordeal, to exhibit sound principles, habitually
warring with inveterate and injurious habits; producing for many years,
an accumulation of bodily suffering, that wasted the frame; poisoned the
sources of enjoyment; entailed, in the long retinue of ills, dependence
and poverty, and with all these, associated that which was far less
bearable, an intolerable mental load, that scarcely knew cessation?

In the year 1814, all this, I am afflicted to say, applied to Mr.
Coleridge. The question to be determined is, whether it be best or not,
to obey the first impulse of benevolence, and to throw a mantle over
these dark and appalling occurrences, and, since the sufferer has left
this stage of existence, to mourn in secret, and consign to oblivion the
aberrations of a frail mortal? This was my first design, but other
thoughts arose. If the individual were alone concerned, the question
would be decided; but it might almost be said, that the world is
interested in the disclosures connected with this part of Mr. Coleridge's
life. His example forms one of the most impressive memorials the pen ever
recorded; so that thousands hereafter, may derive instruction from
viewing in Mr. C. much to approve, and in other features of his
character, much also to regret and deplore. Once Mr. Coleridge expressed
to me, with indescribable emotion, the joy he should feel, if he could
collect around him all who were "beginning to tamper with the lulling,
but fatal draught;" so that he might proclaim as with a trumpet, "the
worse than death that opium entailed." I must add, if he could now speak
from his grave, retaining his earthly, benevolent solicitude for the good
of others, with an emphasis that penetrated the heart, he would doubtless
utter, "Let my example be a warning!"

This being my settled conviction, it becomes in me a duty, with all
practicable mildness, to give publicity to the following facts; in which
censure will often be suspended by compassion, and every feeling be
absorbed in that of pity; in which, if the veil be removed, it will only
be, to present a clear and practical exemplification of the consequences
that progressively follow indulgences in, what Mr. Coleridge latterly
denominated, "the accursed drug!"

To soften the repugnance which might, pardonably, arise in the minds of
some of Mr. G.'s friends, it is asked, whether it be not enough to move a
breast of adamant, to behold a man of Mr. Coleridge's genius, spell-bound
by his narcotic draughts? deploring, as he has done, in his letters to
myself, the destructive consequences of opium; writhing under its
effects,--so injurious to mind, body, and estate; submitting to the
depths of humiliation and poverty, and all this for a season at least,
accompanied with no effectual effort to burst his fetters, and assume the
station in society which became his talents; but on the contrary,
submitting patiently to dependence, and grovelling where he ought to
soar!

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