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Poole, which will come with the 'Nativity, is I think one of my most pleasing compositions." In a letter of Mr. C. dated from Stowey, Mr. Coleridge also says, "I have written a Ballad of three hundred lines, and also a plan of general study." It appeared right to make these statements, and it is hoped the productions named may still be in existence. Mr.
To exchange the country, and all the beauties of nature, for pent-up rooms on Redcliff-hill, demanded from a poet, sacrifices for which a few advantages would but ill compensate. In this uneasy state of mind, Mr. C. received an invitation from his friend, Mr. T. Poole, of Stowey, Somersetshire, to come and visit him in that retired town, and to which place Mr. and Mrs. Coleridge repaired.
Thick woodlands hung on their sides, but above their purple shoulders the ridges were bare. They looked more than a thousand feet high. Among their cloven combes, deep-thicketed and watered with cool springs, the wild red deer still find a home. It was a three-mile drive from Holford to Nether Stowey.
"The George" at Nether Stowey is a very modest inn, the entrance paved with flag-stones, the only public room a low-ceiled parlour; but its merits are far beyond its pretensions. We lunched there most comfortably on roast duck and green peas, cherry tart and cheese, and then set out to explore the village, which is closely built along the roads whose junction is marked by a little clock-tower.
Indeed I verily believe that if all Stowey, Ward excepted, does not go to hell, it will be by the supererogation of Poole's sense of honesty. Charitable! We will have a fair trial of Bang. Do bring down some of the Hyoscyamine pills, and I will give a fair trial of Opium, Henbane, and Nepenthe. By-the-by I always considered Homer's account of the Nepenthe as a Banging lie.
I cannot think that I have acted with, or from, passion towards him. Even my solitary night thoughts have been easy and calm when they have dwelt on him.... I love Coleridge, and can forget all that has happened. At present, I could not well go to Stowey. I could scarcely excuse so sudden a removal from my parents. Lamb quitted me yesterday, after a fortnight's visit.
Do, in your next letter, and that right soon, give me some satisfaction respecting your present situation at Stowey. Is it a farm that you have got? and what does your worship know about farming? Coleridge, I want you to write an epic poem. Nothing short of it can satisfy the vast capacity of true poetic genius.
Besides its stately churches, Somerset possesses some interesting specimens of mediaeval and Tudor domestic architecture. Ancient hostelries survive at Norton St Philip, Glastonbury, and Dunster. Castles are infrequent in the county, the chief remains being at Taunton, Dunster, and Nunney, and a few fragments at Stoke-Courcey, Harptree, Farleigh Hungerford, and Nether Stowey.
C. had spent one more term at Camb., and there in Sept. 1794 his first work, The Fall of Robespierre, a drama, to which Southey contributed two acts, the second and third, was pub. After his marriage he settled first at Clevedon, and thereafter at Nether Stowey, Somerset, where he had Wordsworth for a neighbour, with whom he formed an intimate association.
The following letter of Mr. C. was in answer to a request for some long-promised copy, and for which the printer importuned. "Stowey, 1797. My dear, dear Cottle, Have patience, and everything shall be done. I think now entirely of your brother: in two days I will think entirely for you. By Wednesday next you shall have Lloyd's other Poems, with all Lamb's, &c. &c....
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