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I have dreaded war from the time that the disastrous fortunes of the expedition to Saint Domingo, under Le Clerc, was known in France. Write me one or two lines, as few as you like. I remain, my dear Wedgewood, with most affectionate esteem, and grateful attachment, Your sincere friend, S. T. Coleridge. Thomas Wedgewood, Esq." "Nether Stowey, Feb. 10, 1803. Dear Wedgewood,
W. kindly urging me to pay him a visit in the north, in which, as an inducement, he says, "... Write to me beforehand, and I will accompany you on a tour. God bless you, dear Cottle, A short time after the receipt of this invitation, Mr. Coleridge arrived in Bristol from Germany, and as he was about to pay Mr. Wordsworth a visit, he pressed me to accompany him.
Never, the longest day I have to live, shall I have such another walk as this cold, raw, comfortless one, in the winter of the year 1798. When I got there the organ was playing the 100th Psalm, and when it was done Mr Coleridge rose and gave out his text, "And he went up into the mountain to pray, himself, alone."
Coleridge, that circumstances, and his own views had so altered, as to render it necessary for him candidly to state that he must abandon Pantisocracy, and the whole scheme of colonizing in America; and that he should accept an invitation from his uncle, to accompany him through Spain to Lisbon. The reader has had cause to believe that Mr.
I suppose these lines leave almost every reader with a quickened sense of the beauty and compass of human feeling; and it is the sense of such richness and beauty which, in spite of his "dejection," in spite of that burden of his morbid lassitude, accompanies Coleridge himself through life.
He was educated partly at Truro, and early evinced that taste for poetry and angling that never left him. After serving with a Penzance surgeon, he went to Dr. Beddoes at Clifton, where he met Coleridge and Southey, and discovered the curious effects of "laughing-gas."
Two poets of the Romantic Movement, Southey and Coleridge, used many new and strange words just in this way, but these, again, never passed into the ordinary speech of English people. One maker of new words in the nineteenth century must not be forgotten. This was Lewis Carroll, the author of "Alice in Wonderland" and "Through the Looking-Glass."
Having earned a respite from care by his marriage, Oscar did little for the next three years but talk. Critical observers began to make up their minds that he was a talker and not a writer. "He was a power in the art," as de Quincey said of Coleridge; "and he carried a new art into the power."
And perhaps this was the greatest privilege, or lesson, derived from our intercourse with him, that "Love casteth out fear!" 'Tiros. 'Auckland: October 28, 1872. This letter to Mr. Derwent Coleridge follows up the subject of the requisites for missionary work: "Southern Cross," Kohimarama: August 8, 1863.
Doubtless there must have been great conversational masters elsewhere, and at many periods; but in this lay Coleridge's characteristic advantage, that he was a great natural power, and also a great artist. He was a power in the art, and he carried a new art into the power. But now, finally having left ourselves little room for more one or two words on Coleridge as an opium-eater.
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