Samuel Coleridge - The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

To have written during his life any thing like an eulogy on Coleridge would have been most painful to him, yet he must have felt, that he deserved well of his fellow beings; for fame, and fame only, he observes, is the aim and object of every good and great man, though it is too often confounded with mere reputation. When a youth, he had learnt how to value that bubble reputation, its fleeting character, but the love of which, in some men, is so injurious both to head and heart. Reputation, “the morrow’s meal,” the “breakfast only,” the furnisher of the tinsel ornaments, or at most of some of the worldly agreeables, sown perhaps for future worldly enjoyment. ‘He’ laboured for riches of another kind, and stored them, in the hope of receiving a more permanent reward:

“By fame of course,” says Coleridge, “I mean any thing rather than reputation, the desire of working in the good and great permanently, through indefinite ages, the struggle to be promoted into the rank of God’s fellow-labourers. For bold as this expression is, it is a quotation from Scripture, and therefore justified by God himself, for which we ought to be grateful, that he has deigned to hold out such a glory to us! This is however only one consistent part of the incomprehensible goodness of Deity in taking upon himself man.”

His notebooks abound with “his hints and first thoughts; “as he says, his “Cogitabilia rather than actual cogitata à me,” — not always to be understood as his fixed opinions, but often merely suggestions of the disquisition, and acts of obedience to the apostolic command of “Try all things, hold fast that which is good.” Among them is the following characteristic of the man and his feelings, noted down for some future disquisition.

“Würde, Worthiness, VIRTUE, consist in the mastery over the sensuous and sensual impulses; but Love requires INNOCENCE. Let the lover ask his heart whether he could endure that his mistress should have ‘struggled’ with a sensual impulse for another, though she overcame it from a sense of duty to him? Women are LESS offended with men, from the vicious habits of men in part, and in part from the difference of bodily constitution; yet still to a pure and truly loving woman it must be a painful thought. That he should struggle with and overcome ambition, desire of fortune, superior beauty, &c. or with desire objectless, is pleasing; but ‘not’ that he has struggled with positive appropriated desire, i.e. desire ‘with’ an object. Love in short requires an absolute ‘peace’ and ‘harmony’ between all parts of human nature, such as it is, and it is offended by any war, though the battle should be decided in favour of the worthier.

This is perhaps the final cause of the ‘rarity’ of true love, and the efficient and immediate cause of its difficulty. Ours is a life of probation, we are to contemplate and obey ‘duty’ for its own sake, and in order to this we, in our present imperfect state of being, must see it not merely abstracted from, but in direct opposition to the ‘wish’, the ‘inclination’. Having perfected this, the highest possibility of human nature, he may then with safety harmonize ‘all’ his being with it; ‘he may’ LOVE! — To perform duties absolutely from the sense of duty, is the ‘ideal’, which perhaps no human being ever can arrive at, but which every human being ought to try to draw near unto. This is in the only wise, and verily, in a most sublime sense to see God face to face; which, alas! it seems too true, that no man can do and ‘live’, i.e. a ‘human’ life. It would become incompatible with his organization, or rather it would ‘transmute’ it, and the process of that transmutation to the senses of other men would be called ‘death’. — Even as to caterpillars; in all probability the caterpillar dies, and he either does not see, which is most probable, or at all events he does not see the connection between the caterpillar and the butterfly, the beautiful Psyche of the Greeks.

Those who in this life ‘love’ in perfection — if such there be — in proportion as their love has no struggles, see God darkly and through a veil: — for when duty and pleasure are absolutely coincident, the very nature of our organization necessitates that duty, will be contemplated as the symbol of pleasure, instead of pleasure being (as in a future life we have faith it will be) the symbol of duty. This then is the distinction between human and angelic ‘happiness’. Human happiness — humanly happy I call him, who in enjoyment finds his duty; angelically happy he, who seeks and finds his ‘duty’ in enjoyment. Happiness in general may be defined — not the aggregate of pleasurable sensations, for this is either a dangerous error and the creed of sensualists, or else a mere translation or wordy paraphrase — but the state of that person who, in order to enjoy his nature in its highest manifestations of conscious ‘feeling’, has no need of doing wrong, and who in order to do right is under no necessity of abstaining from enjoyment.”

On the arrival of the new secretary at Malta, Mr. Coleridge left it, September 27, 1805, and after a day’s voyage, arrived at Syracuse. He remained in Sicily a short time only, for he was eager to visit the “eternal city” (Rome,) in which he staid some months. The next date marking his progress, is the 15th December, 1806, Naples, — the usual place of the residence of travellers during summer. This gap in his minutes is partly filled up by his own verbal account, repeated at various times to the writer of this memoir. While in Rome, he was actively employed in visiting the great works of art, statues, pictures, buildings, palaces, &c. &c. observations on which he minuted down for publication. Here he became acquainted with the eminent literary men at that time collected there, and here he first saw the great American painter Alston, for whom he always cherished an unfeigned regard. The German poet Tieck, he then for the first time also saw, and many others of celebrity. To one of them he was mainly indebted for his safety, otherwise he might have terminated his career in the Temple at Paris: for to Buonaparte, through one of his industrious emissaries, Coleridge had become obnoxious, in consequence of an article written by him in the Morning Post. This salutary warning he obtained from the brother of the celebrated traveller, Humboldt, of whom he had enquired, whether he could pass through Switzerland and Germany, and return by that route to England. Humboldt then informed Coleridge, that having passed through Paris on his journey to Rome, he had learnt that he, Coleridge, was a marked man, and unsafe: when within the reach of Buonaparte he advised him to be more than usually circumspect, and do, all in his power to remain unknown. Rather unexpectedly, he had a visit early one morning from a noble Benedictine, with a passport signed by the Pope, in order to facilitate his departure. He left him a carriage, and an admonition for instant flight, which was promptly obeyed by Coleridge. Hastening to Leghorn, he discovered an American vessel ready to sail for England, on board of which he embarked. On the voyage she was chased by a French vessel, which so alarmed the American, that he compelled Coleridge to throw his papers overboard, and thus to his great regret, were lost the fruits of his literary labours in Rome.

In 1806 he returned to England, and took up his residence for a time at Keswick, but was more generally with his friend Wordsworth, then living at Grassmere.

At Grassmere he planned ‘The Friend’, for which Mr. Wordsworth wrote a few contributions; and receiving occasionally some little assistance from other writers, he was enabled to furnish the quantity of valuable matter which appeared in that publication. Some of his earnest admirers, and those too persons best acquainted with his works, are disposed to give this the preference.