It is with a solemnized feeling that I enter on these Reminiscences.
Except one, I have survived all the associates of my earlier days. The
young, with a long life in perspective, (if any life can be called long,
in so brief an existence) are unable to realize the impressions of a man,
nearer eighty than seventy, when the shadows of evening are gathering
around, and, in a retrospective glance, the whole field of past vision
appears, in all its complexities, like the indistinct tumults of a dream.
The acute reasoner--the fiery politician--the eager polemic--the emulous
aspirant after fame; and many such have I known, where are they? and how
mournful, if any one of them should be found, at last, to have directed
his solicitudes, alone, to material objects;--should have neglected to
cultivate his own little plot of earth, more valuable than mines! and
have sown no seeds for eternity. It is not a light motive which could
have prompted me, when this world of "Eye and Ear" is fast receding,
while grander scenes are opening, and so near! to call up almost
long-forgotten associations, and to dwell on the stirring, by-gone
occurrences that tend, in some measure, to interfere with that calm which
is most desirable, and best accords with the feelings of one who holds
life by such slender ties. Yet through the goodness of the Almighty,
being at the present moment exempt from many of the common infirmities of
age, I am willing, as a last act, to make some sacrifice to obtain the
good which I hope this recurrence to the past is calculated to produce.
With respect to Mr. Coleridge, it would be easy and pleasant to sail with
the stream; to admire his eloquence; to extol his genius; and to forget
his failings; but where is the utility, arising out of this homage paid
to naked talent? If the attention of posterity rested here, where were
the lessons of wisdom to be learnt from his example? His path through the
world was marked by strong outlines, and instruction is to be derived
from every feature of his mind, and every portion of his eventful and
chequered life. In all the aspects of his character, he was probably the
most singular man that has appeared in this country during the preceding
century, and the leading incidents of whose life ought to stand fairly on
record. The facts which I have stated are undeniable, the most important
being substantiated by his own letters; but higher objects were intended
by this narrative than merely to elucidate a character, (however
remarkable), in all its vicissitudes and eccentricities. Rising above
idle curiosity, or the desire of furnishing aliment for the
sentimental;--excitement the object, and the moral tendency disregarded,
these pages take a wider range, and are designed for the good of many,
where if there be much to pain the reader, he should moderate his
regrets, by looking through the intermediate to the end.
There is scarcely an individual, whose life, if justly delineated, would
not present much whence others might derive instruction. If this be
applicable to the multitude, how much more essentially true is it, in
reference to the ethereal spirits, endowed by the Supreme with a lavish
portion of intellectual strength, as well as with proportionate
capacities for doing good? How serious therefore is the obligation to
fidelity, when the portraiture of a man is to be presented, like Samuel
Taylor Coleridge, in whom such diversified and contrary qualities
alternately predominated! Yet all the advantages to be derived from him,
and similar instructors of mankind, must result from a faithful
exhibition of the broad features of their earthly conduct and character,
so that they might stand out as landmarks, and pharos-towers, to guide,
or warn, or encourage, all succeeding voyagers on the Ocean of Life.
In preparing the following work, I should gladly have withheld that one
letter of Mr. Coleridge to Mr. Wade, had not the obligation to make it
public been imperative. But concealment would have been injustice to the
living, and treachery to the dead. This letter is the solemnizing voice
of conscience. Can any reflecting mind, deliberately desire the
suppression of this document, in which Mr. Coleridge, for the good of
others, generously forgets its bearing on himself, and makes a full and
voluntary confession of the sins he had committed against "himself, his
friends, his children, and his God?" In the agony of remorse, at the
retrospection, he thus required that this his confession should hereafter
be given to the public. "AFTER MY DEATH, I EARNESTLY ENTREAT, THAT A FULL
AND UNQUALIFIED NARRATIVE OF MY WRETCHEDNESS, AND ITS GUILTY CAUSE, MAY
BE MADE PUBLIC, THAT AT LEAST SOME LITTLE GOOD MAY BE EFFECTED BY THE
DIREFUL EXAMPLE." This is the most redeeming letter Samuel Taylor
Coleridge ever penned. A callous heart could not have written it. A
Christian, awaking from his temporary lethargy, might. While it
powerfully propitiates the reader, it almost converts condemnation into
compassion.
No considerate friend, it might be thought, would have desired the
suppression of this letter, but rather its most extended circulation; and
that, among other cogent reasons, from the immense moral lesson, enforced
by it, in perpetuity, on all consumers of opium; in which they will
behold, as well as in some of the other letters, the "tremendous
consequences," (to use Mr. Coleridge's own expressions) of such
practices, exemplified in his own person; and to which terrible effects,
he himself so often, and so impressively refers. It was doubtless a deep
conviction of the beneficial tendencies involved in the publication, that
prompted Mr. C. to direct publicity to be given to this remarkable
letter, after his decease.
The incidents connected with the lives of Mr. Coleridge and Mr. Southey,
are so intimately blended, from relationship, association, and kindred
pursuits, that the biography of one, to a considerable extent, involves
that of the other. The following narrative, however, professes to be
annals of, rather than a circumstantial account of these two remarkable
men.
Some persons may be predisposed to misconstrue the motive for giving
publicity to the following letter, but others, it is hoped, will admit
that the sole object has been, not to draw the reader's attention to the
writer, but to confer _credit on Southey_. Many are the individuals who
would have assisted, to a greater extent than myself, two young men of
decided genius, like Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and Robert Southey, who
required, at the commencement of their literary career, encouragement,
and a little assistance. Few however, would have exhibited the
magnanimity which Southey displayed, in seasons of improved
circumstances, by referring to slender acts of kindness, long past, and
scarcely remembered but by himself. Few are the men, who, after having
surmounted their difficulties by honourable exertion, would have referred
to past seasons of perplexity, and have desired--that occurrences "might
be seen hereafter," which little minds would sedulously have concealed,
as discredit, rather than as conferring conspicuous honour.
Ten years after the incidents had occurred to which the following letter
refers, in writing to Mr. Southey, among other subjects, I casually
expressed a regret, that when I quitted the business of a bookseller, I
had not returned him the copy-rights of his "Joan of Arc;" of his two
volumes of Poems; and of his letters from Spain and Portugal. The
following was his reply.
"Wednesday evening, Greta Hall, April 28, 1808.
My dear Cottle,
... What you say of my copy-rights affects me very much. Dear Cottle,
set your heart at rest on that subject. It ought to be at rest. They
were yours; fairly bought, and fairly sold. You bought them on the
chance of their success, what no London bookseller would have done;
and had they not been bought, they could not have been published at
all. Nay, if you had not published 'Joan of Arc,' the poem never
would have existed, nor should I, in all probability, ever have
obtained that reputation which is the capital on which I subsist, nor
that power which enables me to support it.
But this is not all. Do you suppose, Cottle, that I have forgotten
those true and most essential acts of friendship which you showed me
when I stood most in need of them? Your house was my house when I had
no other. The very money with which I bought my wedding ring, and
paid my marriage fees, was supplied by you. It was with your sisters
that I left my Edith, during my six months' absence; and for the six
months after my return, it was from you that I received, week by
week, the little on which we lived, till I was enabled to live by
other means. It is not the settling of our cash account that can
cancel obligations like these. You are in the habit of preserving
your letters, and if you were not, _I would entreat you to preserve
this, that it might be seen hereafter_. Sure I am, that there never
was a more generous, nor a kinder heart than yours, and you will
believe me when I add, that there does not live that man upon earth,
whom I remember with more gratitude, and more affection. My heart
throbs, and my eyes burn with these recollections. Good night my dear
old friend and benefactor.