Reminiscences of Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Robert Southey

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

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S. T. Coleridge.

July 13th, 1834, Grove, Highgate."

Is the writer of this epistle the man, who twenty years before, even
coveted annihilation! Is this the man, who so long preferred, to all
things else, the "Circean chalice!" Is this he, who at one time, learned
to his unutterable dismay, what a sin was, "against an imperishable
being, such as is the soul of man." Is this he, whose will was once
extinguished by an unhallowed passion, and he himself borne along toward
perdition by a flood of intemperance! Is this the man who resisted the
light, till darkness entered his mind, and with it a "glimpse of outer
darkness!" Is this he, who feared that his own inveterate and aggravated
crimes would exclude him, from that heaven, the road to which he was
tracing out for others! Is this he, that through successive years,
contended with the severest mental and bodily afflictions; who knew the
cause, but rejected the remedy?--who, in 1807, declared himself "rolling
rudderless," "the wreck of what he once was," "with an unceasing
overwhelming sensation of wretchedness?" and in 1814, who still
pronounced himself the endurer of all that was "wretched, helpless, and
hopeless?" Samuel Taylor Coleridge is the man on whom all these charges
and fearful anticipations once rested: but he it is fervently hoped, was
changed; that he was renovated; that, when refuge failed, an unseen power
subdued the rebellious, and softened the hard; and that he approached the
verge of life in the serenity of faith and hope.

Before the effect of this letter, the eccentricities of S. T.
Coleridge--his indiscretions, his frailties, vanish away. There is in it
a mellowed character, accordant with a proximity to the eternal state,
when alone the objects of time assume their true dimensions; when, earth
receding; eternity opening; the spirit, called to launch its untried bark
on the dark and stormy waters that separate both worlds, descries _light_
afar, and leans, as its only solace, on the hope of the christian.

Checkered indeed was the life of this great but imperfect man. His dawn
was not without promise. Hopes and blessings attended him in his course,
but mists obscured his noon, and tempests long followed him; yet he set,
it is hoped, serene and in splendor, looking on, through faith in his
Redeemer, to that cloudless morning, where his sun shall no more go down.

* * * * *

The attention of the reader will now be directed to letters of Mr.
Southey, briefly relating to Mr. Coleridge, and to circumstances
connected with the publication of the "Early Recollections of S. T.
Coleridge," 1837;--with a reference to the distressing malady with which
Mrs. Southey was afflicted.

"Keswick, Feb. 26, 1836.

My dear Cottle,

... I never go out but for regular exercise. Constant occupation; a daily
walk whatever the weather may be; constitutional buoyancy of spirits; the
comfort I have in my daughters and son; the satisfaction of knowing that
nothing is neglected for my dear Edith, which can be done by human care
and dutiful attention; above all, a constant trust in God's mercy, and
the certainty that whatever he appoints for us is best; these are my
supports, and I have as much cause to be thankful for present
consolation, as for past happiness.

... If this domestic affliction had not fallen upon us, it was my
intention to have seen you in October 1834, and have brought my son
Cuthbert with me; and if it please God that I should ever be able to
leave home for a distant journey, this I still hope to do, and if you are
not then in a better place than Bedminster, I am selfish enough to wish
you may stay there till we meet; and indeed for the sake of others, that
it may be to the utmost limits which may be assigned us. I would give a
great deal to pass a week with you in this world. When I called on your
brother Robert, in London, four years ago, he did not recollect me, and
yet I was the least changed of the two.

I should very much like to show you the correspondence which once passed
between Shelley and myself. Perhaps you are not acquainted with half of
his execrable history. I know the whole, and as he gave me a fit
opportunity, I read him such a lecture upon it as he deserved.

God bless you, my dear old friend,

Robert Southey."

I shall now refer to some incidental subjects relating to Mr. Southey,
which could not be well introduced in an earlier stage.

In drawing up my "Early Recollections of S. T. Coleridge," so many
references had been made to Mr. Southey, that, notwithstanding his
general permission, I deemed it proper to transmit him the MS., with a
request that he would, without hesitation, draw his pen across any
portions to which he either objected, or thought it might be better to
omit. A further benefit also was anticipated by such inspection, as any
error which might inadvertently have crept in, as to facts and dates,
would infallibly be detected by Mr. Southey's more retentive memory. Mr.
S. thus replied:

"Keswick, March 6, 1836.

My dear Cottle,

You will see that I have drawn my pen across several passages in your MS.
of "Early Recollections."[99] The easiest way of showing you those small
inaccuracies, will be by giving you a slight summary of the facts, most
of them antecedent to my introduction to you.

Since your manuscript has arrived, I have received from London, two
volumes of 'Letters and Conversations of S. T. Coleridge,' published
anonymously by one of his later friends, Mr. Alsop, by name, a person of
whom I never heard before. Mr. Moxon, the publisher, writes to me thus
concerning it: 'In many respects I regret that I undertook the
publication of the work, for though at my earnest solicitation, many
objectionable passages respecting both yourself and Mr. Wordsworth were
left out, yet much I fear still remains that ought not to have been
published; and yet if I had refused the work, it would most likely have
been published by some other bookseller, with more in it to offend than
there is at present.'

Now there is nothing in this work relating to myself of the slightest
consequence, but the worst enemy of S. T. C. could not have done so much
injury to his character as this injudicious friend has done; who, be it
observed, was also a friend of Cobbet's. He calls on Mr. Green, his
presumed editor, not to conceal Coleridge's real opinions from the
public, and certainly represents those opinions as being upon most, if
not all subjects, as lax as his own. Coleridge's nephews,--the Bishop and
Judge--are wantonly insulted by this person, and contemptuous speeches of
his are reported concerning dead and living individuals, for whom he
professed friendship, and from whom he had received substantial proofs of
kindness. Heaven preserve me from such a friend as Mr. Alsop! But I never
could have admitted such a person to my friendship, nor, if I had, would
he have any such traits of character to record....

Now then to your narrative, or rather to mine; referring to incidents
which took place before Coleridge's and my own acquaintance with
yourself; by which you will perceive on what small points you were
misinformed, and in what your memory has deceived you.

In the summer of 1794, S. T. Coleridge and Hucks came to Oxford, on their
way into Wales on a pedestrian tour. Allen introduced them to me, and the
scheme of _Pantisocracy_ was introduced _by them_; talked of, by no means
determined on. It was subsequently talked into shape by Burnet and
myself, at the commencement of the long vacation. We separated from
Coleridge and Hucks: they making for Gloucester; Burnet and I proceeding
on foot to Bath.

After some weeks, Coleridge returning from his tour, came to Bristol on
his way, and stopped there. (I being there.) Then it was that we resolved
on going to America, and S. T. C., and I walked into Somersetshire to see
Burnet, and on that journey it was that we first saw Poole. Coleridge
made his engagement with Miss Fricker, on our return from this journey,
at my mother's house in Bath;--not a little to my astonishment, for he
had talked of being deeply in love with a certain _Mary Evans_. I had
been previously engaged to her sister, my poor Edith!--_whom it would
make your heart ache to see at this time!_

We remained at Bristol till the close of the vacation; several weeks.
During that time we again talked of America. The funds were to be what
each could raise. Coleridge, by his _projected work_, 'Specimens of
Modern Latin Poems,' for which he had printed proposals, and obtained a
respectable list of Cambridge subscribers, before I knew him: I by 'Joan
of Arc,' and what else I might publish. I had no rich relations, except
one, my uncle, John Southey, of Taunton, who took no notice of his
brother's family; nor any other expectation. He hoped to find companions
with money.

Coleridge returned to Cambridge, and then published 'The Fall of
Robespierre;' while Lovell (who had married one of the Miss Frickers) and
I, published a thin volume of poems at Bath. My first transaction with
you was for 'Joan of Arc,' and this was before Coleridge's arrival at
Bristol, and soon after Lovell had introduced me to you. Coleridge did
not come back again to Bristol till January 1795, nor would he I believe
_have come back at all_, if I had not gone to London to look for him, for
having got there from Cambridge at the beginning of winter, there he
remained without writing either to Miss Fricker or myself.

At last I wrote to Favell (a Christ's Hospital boy, whose name I knew as
one of his friends, and whom he had set down as one of our companions) to
inquire concerning him, and learnt in reply, that S. T. Coleridge was at
'The Cat and Salutation,' in Newgate Street. [100] Thither I wrote. He
answered my letter, and said, that _on such a day_ he should set off for
Bath by the _waggon_. Lovell and I walked from Bath to meet him. Near
Marlborough we met with the appointed waggon; but _no S. T. Coleridge was
therein!_ A little while afterward, I went to London, and not finding him
at 'The Cat and Salutation,' called at Christ's Hospital, and was
conducted by Favell to 'The Angel Inn, Butcher Hall street,' whither
Coleridge had shifted his quarters. I brought him then to Bath, and in a
few days to Bristol.

In the intermediate time between his leaving Bristol, and returning to
it, the difficulties of getting to America became more and more apparent.
Wynne wrote to press upon me the expedience of trying our scheme of
Pantisocracy in Wales, knowing how impracticable it would be _any where_;
knowing also, that there was no hope of convincing me of its
impracticability, _at that time_. In our former plan we were all agreed,
and expected that what the earth failed to produce for us, the pen would
supply. Such were our views in January 1795; when S. T. Coleridge gave
his first and second lectures in the Corn Market, and his third in a
vacant house in Castle Green. These were followed by my lectures, and you
know the course of our lives till the October following, when we parted.

By that time I had seen that _no dependence_ could be placed on
Coleridge. No difference took place between us when I communicated to him
my intention of going with my uncle to Lisbon, nor even a remonstrance on
his part; nor had I the slightest suspicion that he intended to quarrel
with me, till ----'s insolence made it apparent; and I then learnt from
Mrs. Morgan (poor John Morgan's mother) in what manner he was speaking of
me. This was in October. From that time to my departure for Lisbon you
know my history. Lovell did not die till six months afterward. The
'Watchman' was not projected till I was on my way to Lisbon.

Poor Burnet's history would require a letter of itself. He became
deranged on one point, which was that of _hatred to me_, whom he accused
of having jealously endeavoured to suppress his talents! This lasted
about six months, in the year 1802, and it returned again in the last
year of his life. The scheme of Pantisocracy proved his ruin; but he was
twice placed in situations where he was well provided for. I had the
greatest regard for him, and would have done, and indeed, as far as was
in my power, did my utmost to serve him God bless you, my dear old
friend,

Yours most affectionately,

Robert Southey."

"Keswick, 14 April, 1836.

My dear Cottle,

If you are drawing up your 'Recollections of Coleridge,' for separate
publication, you are most welcome to insert anything of mine which you
might think proper; but it is my wish that nothing of mine may go into
the hands of any person concerned in bringing forward Coleridge's MSS.

I know that Coleridge at different times of his life never let pass an
opportunity of speaking ill of me. Both Wordsworth and myself have often
lamented the exposure of duplicity which must result from the publication
of his letters, and by what he has delivered by word of mouth to the
worshippers by whom he was always surrounded. To Wordsworth and to me, it
matters little. Coleridge received from us such substantial services as
few men have received from those whose friendship they had forfeited.
This indeed was not the case with Wordsworth, as it was with me, for he
knew not in what manner Coleridge had latterly spoken of him. But I
continued all possible offices of kindness to his children, long after I
regarded his own conduct with that _utter disapprobation_ which alone it
can call forth from all who had any sense of duty and moral obligation.

Poole[101] from whom I had a letter by the same post with yours, thinks,
from what you have said concerning Coleridge's habit of taking opium,
that it would operate less to deter others from the practice, than it
would lead them to flatter themselves in indulging in it, by the example
of so great a man. That there is some probability in this I happen to
know from the effect of Mr. De Quincey's book; one who had never taken a
drop of opium before, but took so large a dose, for the sake of
experiencing the sensations which had been described, that a very little
addition to the dose might have proved fatal. There, however, the
mischief ended, for he never repeated the experiment. But I apprehend if
you send what you have written, about Coleridge and opium, it will not be
made use of, and that Coleridge's biographer will seek to find excuses
for his abuse of that drug. Indeed in Mr. Alsop's book, it is affirmed
that the state of his heart, and other appearances in his chest, showed
the habit to have been brought on by the pressure of disease in those
parts:--the more likely inference is, that the excess brought on the
disease.

I am much pleased with your "_Predictions_." Those who will not be
convinced by such scriptural proofs, if they pretend to admit any
authority in the Scriptures, would not, though one rose from the dead.

God bless you, my dear old friend. Whenever I can take a journey, I will,
if you are living, come to Bedminster. There is no other place in the
world which I remember with such feelings as that village.[102]

Believe me always yours most affectionately,

Robert Southey."

In answer to an invitation, Mr. Southey thus replied.

"Keswick, August 16, 1836.

My dear Cottle,

... Be assured, whenever it may seem fitting for me to take so long a
journey, I shall come to you with as cordial a feeling of unchanged and
unabated friendship as that with which you I know will receive me. It is
very much my wish to do so, to show Cuthbert my son (who will accompany
me) the scenes of my boyhood and youth, and the few friends who are left
to me in the West of England. There is an urgent reason why I should go
to London before the last volume of Cowper is brought forth, if domestic
circumstances can be so arranged as to admit of this, and I would fain
hope it may be; I shall then certainly proceed to the West.

Longman has determined to print my poetical works in ten monthly parts,
and I have to prepare accordingly for the press. No one will take more
interest than yourself in this arrangement. I have much to correct, much
to alter, and not a little to add: among other things, a general preface,
tracing the circumstances which contributed to determine my course as a
poet.

I can say nothing which would give you pleasure to hear on a subject[103]
which concerns me so nearly. We have continued variations of better and
worse, with no tendency to amendment; and according to all human
foresight, no hope of recovery. We entertain no guests, and admit no
company whom it is possible to exclude. God bless you, my dear old
friend, and believe me always

Yours most affectionately,

Robert Southey."

I now refer to an occurrence that gave me some uneasiness. It appears,
from the following letter that the family of Mr. Coleridge felt uneasy at
learning that I intended to disclose to the public, the full extent of
Mr. C.'s subjection to opium.

"September 30, 1836.

My dear Cottle,

... Coleridge's relations are uneasy at what they hear of your intention
to publish an account of him. Yesterday I learnt personally, from an
influential member of the family, what their objections particularly
were. He specified as points on which they were uncomfortable,
Coleridge's own letter, or letters, respecting _opium_, and the
circumstances of a gift of three hundred pounds from Mr. De Quincey.

The truth is, that Coleridge's relations are placed in a most
uncomfortable position. They cannot say that any one of themselves will
bring out a full and authentic account of C. because they know how much
there is, which all who have any regard for Coleridge's memory, would
wish to be buried with him. But we will talk over the subject when we
meet. Meantime I have assured ---- that your feelings toward Coleridge
are, what they have ever been, friendly in the highest degree.

How like a dream does the past appear! through the last years of my life
more than any other part. All hope of recovery, or even of amendment, is
over! In all reason I am convinced of this; and yet at times when Edith
speaks and looks like herself, I am almost ready to look for what, if it
occurred, would be a miracle. _It is quite necessary that I should be
weaned from this constant object of solicitude_; so far at least as to
refresh myself, and recruit for another period of confinement. Like all
other duties, it brings with it its reward: and when I consider with how
many mercies this affliction has been tempered, I have cause indeed to be
thankful. Believe me always, my dear Cottle,

Yours most affectionately,

Robert Southey."

A few days after I received the following letter from Mr. Southey:--

"Keswick, Oct. 10, 1836.

My dear Cottle,

I have long foreseen that poor S. T. Coleridge would leave a large
inheritance of uneasiness to his surviving friends, and those who were
the most nearly connected with him.

The _Head of the Family_ being in these parts, I have heard more
concerning the affair of _your Memoir_, as it respects the feelings of
that family than I should otherwise. He is a thoroughly good man; mild,
unassuming, amiable, and judicious beyond most men. This matter interests
him greatly, on account of his brother having married Mr. S. T.
Coleridge's daughter. Indeed it is in consequence of a letter from the
---- that I am now writing. He cared nothing when a gross and wanton
insult was offered to him in that ... book, but on this occasion he is
much concerned.

A few omissions (one letter in particular, respecting the habit of taking
opium,) would spare them great pain, and leave your book little the
poorer, rich as your materials are. Wilfully I am sure you never gave
pain to any human being, nor any living creature.... You are not like a
witness who is required to tell all which he knows. In those cases the
moral law requires us to tell nothing but the truth, but does not demand
the whole truth, unless the suppression of any part of it should be
tantamount to falsehood.

Of this indeed you are fully aware. You have enough to tell that is
harmless as well as interesting, and not only harmless, but valuable and
instructive, and that _ought_ to be told, and which _no one but yourself
can tell_. Strike out only.... I will read over the Memoir when we meet.
You have abundance of materials; and many things may come to mind which
may supply the place of what should be withdrawn. _You will understand my
motive in pressing this upon you._ God bless you, my dear old friend.

Your's most affectionately,

Robert Southey."

As I determined to publish nothing relating to Mr. Coleridge, without Mr.
Southey's sanction, my first impression, on the receipt of this letter,
was, wholly to _withdraw the work_;--but as I expected soon to see Mr.
S., I resolved to suspend my determination till he had an opportunity of
inspecting the MS. once more, when his specific objections might be
better understood.

Two or three weeks after receiving the former letter, Mr. S. addressed to
me the following hasty line:--

"Friday, Nov. 1, 1836, Pipe Hayes.

My dear Cottle,

Here we are, six miles from Birmingham. Our places are taken for Thursday
morning, in the coach which starts from the Hen and Chickens, Birmingham.
To what Inn it comes in Bristol, I forgot to ask. So, if on our arrival,
we do not find your vehicle, we shall pack ourselves, and our luggage, in
a hackney-coach, without delay, and drive to Carlton Villa. So on
Thursday evening I hope to see you.

God bless you, my dear old friend,

Robert Southey."

P.S. "I saw Wordsworth on my way, and mentioned your wish about engraving
his portrait. He referred it entirely to my opinion of its
likeness."[104]

On his arrival, Mr. Southey deliberately re-read the whole of my MS., and
objected alone to a few trifles, which were expunged. He read the series
of _opium letters_ with a mind evidently affected, but no part did he
interdict. He now arrived at, and read the solemn _Testamentary
Letter_,(p. 394 [Letter dating "Bristol, June 26th, 1814. Transcriber.]).
I said to him, "Southey shall I, or shall I not, omit this letter." He
paused for a few moments, and then distinctly said. "You must print it.
It is your authority for what you have done." He then continued, "You
must print it also, for the sake of faithful biography, and for the
beneficial effect this, and the other opium letters must inevitably
produce." This unqualified approval determined me to publish the whole of
the opium letters.

I here give the next letter I received from Mr. Southey, when he had
returned home, after his long excursion to Bristol, and the West of
England, by which it will be perceived that no after inclination existed
in Mr. S.'s mind to alter the opinion he had given.

"Keswick, May 9, 1837.

My dear Cottle,

It is scarcely possible that a day should pass, in which some
circumstance, some object, or train of recollection, does not bring you
to my mind. You may suppose then how much I thought of you during the
employment I recently got through of correcting "_Joan of Arc_" for the
last time....

Our journey, after we left your comfortable house, was as prosperous as
it could be at that time of the year. We have reason, indeed, to be
thankful, that travelling so many hundred miles, in all sorts of ways,
and over all kinds of roads, we met with no mischief of any kind; nor any
difficulties greater than what served for matter of amusement. During the
great hurricane, we were at Dawlish, in a house on the beach, from which
we saw the full effect of its force on the sea.

The great snow-storm caught us at Tavistock, and rendered it impossible
for us to make our intended excursion on Dartmoor. Cuthbert and I parted
company at my friend, Miss Caroline Bowles's, near Lymington, he going to
his brother-in-law, (at Terring, where he is preparing for the
University,) I, the next day, to London. I joined him again at Terring,
three weeks afterward; and, after a week, made the best of my way home.

The objects of my journey were fully accomplished. Cuthbert has seen most
of the spots which I desired to show him, and has been introduced to the
few old friends whom I have left in the West of England. I had much
pleasure, but not unmingled with pain, in visiting many places which
brought back vividly the remembrance of former days; but to Cuthbert, all
was pure pleasure.

God bless you, my dear old friend,

Yours affectionately,

Robert Southey."

In a previous letter Mr. Southey had said in a contemplative mood,

"... Little progress is made in my 'Life of George Fox' but considerable
preparation. This, and some sketches of Monastic history, will probably
complete the ecclesiastical portion of my labours. Alas! I have
undertaken more than there is any reasonable likelihood of completing. My
head will soon be white, and I feel a disposition to take more thought
for the morrow than I was wont to do; not as if distrusting providence,
which has hitherto supported me, _but my own powers of exertion!_"

I pass over the intervening period between this, and my old friend's
mental affliction, as more properly belonging to Mr. Southey's regular
biographer, but this much I may observe.

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