The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge: Poems, Plays, Essays, Lectures, Autobiography & Personal Letters (Illustrated). Samuel Taylor Coleridge
[Footnote 14: A gentleman much interested in these lectures, who was also present, has given the following version of the story, and it is so well done, that I am desirous of inserting it: —
“In all Mr. Coleridge’s lectures he was a steady opposer of Mr. Pitt and the then existing war; and also an enthusiastic admirer of Fox, Sheridan, Grey, &c. &c., but his opposition to the reigning politics discovered little asperity; it chiefly appeared by wit and sarcasm, and commonly ended in that which was the speaker’s chief object, a laugh. Few attended Mr. C.’s lectures but those whose political views were similar to his own; but on one occasion, some gentlemen of the opposite party came into the lecture-room, and at one sentiment they heard, testified their disapprobation by the only easy and safe way in their power; namely, by a hiss. The auditors were startled at so unusual a sound, not knowing to what it might conduct; but their noble leader soon quieted their fears, by instantly remarking, with great coolness, ‘I am not at all surprised, when the red hot prejudices of aristocrats are suddenly plunged into the cool waters of reason, that they should go off with a hiss!’ The words were electric. The assailants felt, as well as testified their confusion, and the whole company confirmed it by immense applause! There was no more hissing.”]
[Footnote 15: This note was written at Highgate, in a copy of the
‘Conciones ad Populum’.]
[Footnote 16:
“With the exception of one extraordinary man, I have never known an individual, least of all an individual of genius, healthy or happy without a profession, i.e., some ‘regular’ employment, which does not depend on the will of the moment, and which can be carried on so far ‘mechanically’, that an average quantum only of health, spirits, and intellectual exertion are requisite to its faithful discharge. Three hours of leisure, unannoyed by any alien anxiety, and looked forward to with delight as a change and recreation, will suffice to realize in literature a larger product of what is truly genial, than weeks of compulsion. Money, and immediate reputation form only an arbitrary and accidental end of literary labour. The ‘hope’ of increasing them by any given exertion will often prove a stimulant to industry; but the ‘necessity’ of acquiring them will, in all works of genius, convert the stimulant into a ‘narcotic’. Motives by excess reverse their very nature, and instead of exciting, stun and stupify the mind; for it is one contradistinction of genius from talent, that its predominant end is always comprised in the means; and this is one of the many points, which establish an analogy between genius and virtue. Now, though talents may exist without genius, yet, as genius cannot exist, certainly not manifest itself, without talents, I would advise every scholar, who feels the genial power working within him, so far to make a division between the two, as that he should devote his ‘talents’ to the acquirement of competence in some known trade or profession, and his genius to objects of his tranquil and unbiassed choice; while the consciousness of being actuated in both alike by the sincere desire to perform his duty, will alike ennoble both. ‘My dear young friend,’ (I would say), suppose yourself established in any honourable occupation. From the manufactory or counting-house, from the law-court, or from having visited your last patient, you return at evening,
’Dear tranquil time, when the sweet sense of home
Is sweetest…’
to your family, prepared for its social enjoyments, with the very countenances of your wife and children brightened, and their voice of welcome made doubly welcome by the knowledge that, as far as ‘they’ are concerned, you have satisfied the demands of the day, by the labour of the day. Then, when you retire into your study, in the books on your shelves, you revisit so many venerable friends with whom you can converse. Your own spirit scarcely less free from personal anxieties than the great minds, that in those books are still living for you! Even your writing-desk, with its blank paper and all its other implements, will appear as a chain of flowers, capable of linking your feelings, as well as thoughts to events, and characters, past or to come: not a chain of iron which binds you down to think of the future and the remote, by recalling the claims and feelings of the peremptory present: but why should I say retire? The habits of active life and daily intercourse with the stir of the world, will tend to give you such self command, that the presence of your family will be no interruption. Nay, the social silence, or undisturbing voices of a wife or sister will be like a restorative atmosphere, or soft music which moulds a dream without becoming its object. If facts are required to prove the possibility of combining weighty performances in literature with full and independent employment, the works of Cicero and Xenophon among the ancients; of Sir Thomas Moore, Bacon, Baxter, or, to refer at once to later and contemporary instances, Darwin and Roscoe, are at once decisive of the question.”
‘Biog. Lit.’]
[Footnote 17: Tale and novel writing of second-rate order, somewhat spiced and stimulating, are sure to succeed, and carry ‘of course’ popularity with their success, by advertising the writer. Of this there is an instance in Coleridge’s own works. The “Zapoyla,” entitled a “Christmas Tale,” (and which he never sat down to write, but dictated it while walking up and down the room,) became so immediately popular that 2000 copies were sold in six weeks, while it required two years for the sale of 1000 copies of the “Aids to Reflection,” which cost him much labour, and was the fruit of many years’ reflection.]
[Footnote 18: i.e. Nether Stowey, at the foot of the Quantock Hills.]
[Footnote 19: Thomas Poole, Esq.]
[Footnote 20: The following lines are here referred to
”And now, beloved Stowey! I behold
Thy Church-tower, and, methinks, the four huge elms
Clustering, which mark the mansion of my friend;
And close behind them, hidden from my view,
Is my own lowly cottage, where my babe
And my babe’s mother dwell in peace. With light
And quicken’d footsteps thitherward I tend,
Remembering thee, O green and silent dell!
And grateful, that by nature’s quietness
And solitary musings, all my heart
Is soften’d, and made worthy to indulge
Love, and the thoughts that yearn for human kind.
Nether Stowey,
April 28th, 1798.” ]
[Footnote 21: Ossian.]
[Footnote 22: This illnatured remark requires no comment: but I would fain recommend the reader to peruse the beautiful and faithful portrait of him in the Preface to the second edition of the “Table Talk,” Murray, Albemarle Street.]
[Footnote 23: He was not an enthusiast in the sense this individual used the word; in whatever studies he was engaged, he pursued them with great earnestness, and they were sufficient to excite his powerful and sensitive intellect, so as to induce an observer not well acquainted with him to form this opinion. In the character of preacher, he exhibited more the character of philosopher and poet, never manifesting that sectarian spirit, which too often narrows the mind, or perhaps is rather the ‘result’ of a narrow mind, and which frequently seems to exclude men from the most substantial forms of Christianity, viz. “Christian charity and Christian humility.” His religion was the very opposite of a worldly religion, it was at all times the religion of love.
This visit to Shrewsbury, as the probable successor of Mr. Rowe, was undertaken by the advice of Mr. afterwards Dr. Estlin, a Unitarian dissenter and preacher in Bristol, a man possessed of great kindness and of great influence among this sect, to whom Coleridge had been indebted for many kind offices; the result of this visit forms a part of the sequel.]
[Footnote 24: ‘Poetical Works,’ vol. i. p. 238.]
[Footnote 25:
“No little fish thrown back into the water, no fly unimprisoned from a child’s hand, could more buoyantly enjoy its element than I this clear and peaceful home, with the lovely view of the town, groves,