A little before this time, a singular occurrence happened to Mr. C.
during a pedestrian excursion into Somersetshire, as detailed in the
following letter to Mr. Wade.
"My dear friend,
I am here after a most tiresome journey; in the course of which, a woman
asked me if I knew one Coleridge, of Bristol, I answered, I had heard of
him. 'Do you know, (quoth she) that that vile jacobin villain drew away a
young man of our parish, one Burnet' &c. and in this strain did the woman
continue for near an hour; heaping on me every name of abuse that the
parish of Billingsgate could supply. I listened very particularly;
appeared to approve all she said, exclaiming, 'dear me!' two or three
times, and, in fine, so completely won the woman's heart by my
civilities, that I had not courage enough to undeceive her....
S. T. Coleridge.
P. S. You are a good prophet. Oh, into what a state have the scoundrels
brought this devoted kingdom. If the House of Commons would but melt down
their faces, it would greatly assist the copper currency--we should have
brass enough."
To refer now to another subject. Robert Burns had died in 1796. Finding
that his family had little more than their father's fame to support them,
I consulted with Mr. Coleridge, whether it would not be possible to add
to the fund then being raised, by promoting a subscription in Bristol, in
furtherance of such design. It being deemed feasible, while Mr. C.
undertook to write a Poem on the subject for a Bristol paper, I sent the
following advertisement to the same vehicle.