Respecting this tragedy of Mr. W.'s, parts of which I afterwards heard
with the highest admiration, Mr. Coleridge in a succeeding letter gave me
the following information. "I have procured for Wordsworth's tragedy, an
introduction to Harris, the manager of Covent Garden, who has promised to
read it attentively, and give his answer immediately; and if he accepts
it, to put it in preparation without an hour's delay.
This tragedy may or may not have been deemed suitable for the stage.
Should the latter prove the case, and the closet be its element, the
public after these intimations, will importunately urge Mr. W. to a
publication of this dramatic piece, so calculated still to augment his
high reputation.
There is a peculiar pleasure in recording the favorable sentiments which
one poet and man of genius entertains of another, I therefore state that
Mr. Coleridge says, in a letter received from him March 8th, 1798, "The
Giant Wordsworth-God love him! When I speak in the terms of admiration
due to his intellect, I fear lest these terms should keep out of sight
the amiableness of his manners. He has written near twelve hundred lines
of blank verse, superior, I hesitate not to aver, to any thing in our
language which any way resembles it."
And in a letter received from Mr. Coleridge, 1807, he says--speaking of
his friend Mr. W. "He is one, whom God knows, I love and honour as far
beyond myself, as both morally and intellectually he is above me."
"Stowey, 1797.
My dear Cottle,
Wordsworth and his exquisite sister are with me. She is a woman indeed!
in mind I mean, and heart; for her person is such, that if you expected
to see a pretty woman, you would think her rather ordinary; if you
expected to see an ordinary woman, you would think her pretty! but her
manners are simple, ardent, impressive. In every motion, her most
innocent soul outbeams so brightly, that who saw would say,
"Guilt was a thing impossible in her."
Her information various. Her eye watchful in minutest observation of
nature; and her taste, a perfect electrometer. It bends, protrudes, and
draws in, at subtlest beauties, and most recondite faults.
She and W. desire their kindest respects to you.
Your ever affectionate friend.