I _did_ know the late Dr. Fox, who was an opulent and liberal-minded man;
and if I had applied to him, or any friend had so done, I cannot doubt
but that he would instantly have received Mr. Coleridge gratuitously; but
nothing could have induced me to make the application, but that extreme
case, which did not then appear fully to exist. My sympathy for Mr. C. at
this time, was so excited, that I should have withheld no effort, within
my power, to reclaim, or to cheer him; but this recurrence to an asylum,
I strenuously opposed.
Mr. Coleridge knew Dr. Fox himself, eighteen years before, and to the
honour of Dr. E. I think it right to name, that, to my knowledge, in the
year 1796, Dr. Fox, in admiration of Mr. C.'s talents, presented him with
FIFTY POUNDS!
It must here be, noticed, that, fearing I might have exceeded the point
of discretion, in my letter to Mr. C. and becoming alarmed, lest I had
raised a spirit that I could not lay, as well as to avoid an unnecessary
weight of responsibility, I thought it best to consult Mr. Southey, and
ask him, in these harassing circumstances, what I was to do; especially
as he knew more of Mr. C.'s latter habits than myself, and had proved his
friendship by evidences the most substantial.
The years 1814 and 1815, were the darkest periods in Mr. Coleridge's
life. However painful the detail, it is presumed that the reader would
desire a knowledge of the undisguised truth. This cannot be obtained
without introducing the following letters of Mr. Southey, received from
him, after having sent him copies of the letters which passed between Mr.
Coleridge and myself.
"Keswick, April, 1814.
My dear Cottle,
You may imagine with what feelings I have read your correspondence with
Coleridge. Shocking as his letters are, perhaps the most mournful thing
they discover is, that while acknowledging the guilt of the habit, he
imputes it still to morbid bodily causes, whereas after every possible
allowance is made for these, every person who has witnessed his habits,
knows that for the greater, infinitely the greater part, inclination and
indulgence are its motives.
It seems dreadful to say this, with his expressions before me, but it is
so, and I know it to be so, from my own observation, and that of all with
whom he has lived. The Morgans, with great difficulty and perseverance,
_did_ break him of the habit, at a time when his ordinary consumption of
laudanum was, from _two quarts a week_, to _a pint a day!_ He suffered
dreadfully during the first abstinence, so much so, as to say it was
better for him to die than to endure his present feelings. Mrs. Morgan
resolutely replied, it was indeed better that he should die, than that he
should continue to live as he had been living. It angered him at the
time, but the effort was persevered in.
To what then was the relapse owing? I believe to this cause--that no use
was made of renewed health and spirits; that time passed on in idleness,
till the lapse of time brought with it a sense of neglected duties, and
then relief was again sought for _a self-accusing mind_;--in bodily
feelings, which when the stimulus ceased to act, added only to the load
of self-accusation. This Cottle, is an insanity which none but the soul's
physician can cure. Unquestionably, restraint would do as much for him as
it did when the Morgans tried it, but I do not see the slightest reason
for believing it would be more permanent. This too I ought to say, that
all the medical men to whom Coleridge has made his confession, have
uniformly ascribed the evil, not to bodily disease, but indulgence. The
restraint which alone could effectually cure, is that which no person can
impose upon him. Could he be compelled to a certain quantity of labour
every day, _for his family_, the pleasure of having done it would make
his heart glad, and the sane mind would make the body whole.
I see nothing so advisable for him, as that he should come here to Greta
Hall. My advice is, that he should visit T. Poole for two or three weeks,
to freshen himself and recover spirits, which new scenes never fail to
give him. When there, he may consult his friends at Birmingham and
Liverpool, on the fitness of lecturing at those two places, at each of
which he has friends, and would, I should think beyond all doubt be
successful. He must be very unfortunate if he did not raise from fifty to
one hundred pounds at the two places. But whether he can do this or not,
here it is that he ought to be. He knows in what manner he would be
received;--by his children with joy; by his wife, not with tears, if she
can control them--certainly not with reproaches;--by myself only with
encouragement.
He has sources of direct emolument open to him in the '_Courier_,' and in
the '_Eclectic Review_.'--These for his immediate wants, and for
everything else, his pen is more rapid than mine, and would be paid as
well. If you agree with me, you had better write to Poole, that he may
press him to make a visit, which I know he has promised. His great object
should be, to get out a play, and appropriate the whole produce to the
support of his son Hartley, at College. Three months' pleasurable
exertion would effect this. Of some such fit of industry I by no means
despair; of any thing more than fits, I am afraid I do. But this of
course I shall never say to him. From me he shall never hear ought but
cheerful encouragement, and the language of hope.
You ask me if you did wrong in writing to him. A man with your feelings
and principles never does wrong. There are parts which would have been
expunged had I been at your elbow, but in all, and in every part it is
strictly applicable.
I hope your next will tell me that he is going to T. Poole's--I have
communicated none of your letters to Mrs. Coleridge, who you know resides
with us. Her spirits and health are beginning to sink under it. God bless
you.
Yours affectionately,