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LETTER18
CHARLESLAMBTOS.T.COLERIDGE
Dec.10th,1796.
Ihadputmyletterintothepostratherhastily,notexpectingtohavetoacknowledgeanotherfromyousosoon.Thismorningspresenthasmademealiveagain:mylastnightsepistlewaschildishlyquerulous;butyouhaveputalittlelifeintome,andIwillthankyouforyourremembranceofme,whilemysenseofitisyetwarm;forifIlingeradayortwoImayusethesamephraseofacknowledgment,orsimilar;butthefeelingthatdictatesitnowwillbegone.Ishallsendyouacaputmortuum,notacorvivens.ThyWatchmans,thybellmans,verses,Idoretortuponthee,thoulibellousvarlet,—why,youcriedthehoursyourself,andwhomadeyousoproud?ButIsubmit,toshowmyhumility,mostimplicitlytoyourdogmas.Irejectentirelythecopyofversesyoureject.Withregardtomyleavingoffversifying,youhavesaidsomanyprettythings,somanyfinepliments,ingeniouslydeckedoutinthegarbofsincerity,andundoubtedlyspringingfromapresentfeelingsomewhatlikesincerity,thatyoumightmeltthemostun-muse-icalsoul,—didyounot(nowforaRowlandplimentforyourprofusionofOlivers)—didyounotinyourveryepistle,bythemanyprettyfanciesandprofusionofheartdisplayedinit,dissuadeanddiscouragemefromattemptinganythingafteryou.AtpresentIhavenotleisuretomakeverses,noranythingapproachingtoafondnessfortheexercise.Intheignorantpresenttime,whocananswerforthefutureman?"AtloversperjuriesJovelaughs"—andpoetshavesometimesadisingenuouswayofforswearingtheiroccupation.Thisthoughisnotmycase.Thetendercastofsoul,sombredwithmelancholyandsubsidingrecollections,isfavourabletotheSonnetortheElegy;butfrom
"Thesaintedgrowingwoof,
Theteasingtroubleskeepaloof."
Themusicofpoesymaycharmforawhiletheimportunateteasingcaresoflife;buttheteasedandtroubledmanisnotinadispositiontomakethatmusic.
YousentmesomeverysweetlinesrelativetoBurns,butitwasatatimewhen,inmyhighlyagitatedandperhapsdistortedstateofmind,IthoughtitadutytoreademhastilyandburneIburnedallmyownverses,allmybookofextractsfromBeaumontandFletcherandathousandsources:IburnedalittlejournalofmyfoolishpassionwhichIhadalongtimekept—
"Notingeretheypastaway
Thelittlelinesofyesterday."
Ialmostburnedallyourletters,—Ididasbad,Ilentemtoafriendtokeepoutofmybrotherssight,shouldheeandmakeinquisitionintoourpapers,for,muchashedweltuponyourconversationwhileyouwereamongus,anddelightedtobewithyou,ithasbeenhisfashioneversincetodepreciateandcryyoudown,—youwerethecauseofmymadness—youandyourdamnedfoolishsensibilityandmelancholy—andhelamentedwithatruebrotherlyfeelingthatweevermet,evenasthesobercitizen,whenhissonwentastrayuponthemountainsofParnassus,issaidtohave"cursedwitandPoetryandPope."I"ewrong,butnomatter.TheselettersIlenttoafriendtobeoutofthewayforaseason;butIhaveclaimedtheminvain,andshallnotceasetoregrettheirloss.Yourpackets,posteriortothedateofmymisfortunes,mencingwiththatvaluableconsolatoryepistle,areeverydayaccumulating—theyaresacredthingswithme.
PublishyourBurnswhenandhowyoulike,itwillbenewtome,—mymemoryofitisveryconfused,andtaintedwithunpleasantassociations.Burnswasthegodofmyidolatry,asBowlesofyours.IamjealousofyourfraternisingwithBowles,whenIthinkyourelishhimmorethanBurnsormyoldfavourite,Cowper.Butyouconciliatematterswhenyoutalkofthe"divinechit-chat"ofthelatter:bytheexpressionIseeyouthoroughlyrelishhiIloveMrs.Coleridgeforherexcusesanhundredfoldmoredearlythanifsheheaped"lineuponline,"out-Hannah-ingHannahMore,andhadratherhearyousing"Didaverylittlebaby"byyourfamilyfire-side,thanlistentoyouwhenyouwererepeatingoneofBowlesssweetestsonnetsinyoursweetmanner,whilewetwowereindulgingsympathy,asolitaryluxury,bythefiresideattheSalutation.YethaveInohigherideasofheaven.Yourpanywasone"cordialinthismelancholyvale"—theremembranceofitisablessingpartly,andpartlyacurse.
WhenIcanabstractmyselffromthingspresent,Icanenjoyitwithafreshnessofrelish;butitmoreconstantlyoperatestoanunfavourableparisonwiththeuninteresting;converseIalwaysandonlycanpartakein.NotasoullovesBowleshere;scarceonehasheardofBurns;fewbutlaughatmeforreadingmyTestament—theytalkalanguageIunderstandnot:IconcealsentimentsthatwouldbeapuzzletotheIcanonlyconversewithyoubyletterandwiththedeadintheirbooks.Mysister,indeed,isallIcanwishinapanion;butourspiritsarealikepoorly,ourreadingandknowledgefromtheself-samesources,ourmunicationwiththescenesoftheworldalikenarrow:neverhavingkeptseparatepany,orany"pany""together"—neverhavingreadseparatebooks,andfewbookstogether—whatknowledgehavewetoconveytoeachother?Inourlittlerangeofdutiesandconnexions,howfewsentimentscantakeplace,withoutfriends,withfewbooks,withatasteforreligionratherthanastrongreligioushabit!Weneedsomesupport,someleading-stringstocheeranddirectus.Youtalkverywisely,andbenotsparingofyouradvice.Continuetorememberus,andtoshowusyoudorememberus:wewilltakeaslivelyaninterestinwhatconcernsyouandyours.AllIcanaddtoyourhappiness,willbesympathy.Youcanaddtominemore;youcanteachmewisdoIamindeedanunreasonablecorrespondent;butIwasunwillingtoletmylastnightslettergooffwithoutthisqualifier:youwillperceivebythismymindiseasier,andyouwillrejoice.Idonotexpectorwishyoutowrite,tillyouaremoved;andofcourseshallnot,tillyouannouncetomethatevent,thinkofwritingmyself.LovetoMrs.ColeridgeandDavidHartley,andmykindremembrancetoLloyd,ifheiswithyou.
C.LAMB.
Iwillget"NatureandArt,"—havenotseenityet—noranyofJeremy
Taylorsworks.
[Thereferencetothebellmansverses(thebellman,orwatchman,usedtoleaveversesatthehousesonhisbeatatEasterasareminderofhisdeserts)isnotquiteclear.LambevidentlyhadsubmittedforthenewvolumesomelineswhichColeridgewouldnotpass—possiblythepoeminLetterNo.16.
ColeridgesometimebeforehadsenttoLambtheverysweetlinesrelativetoBurns,underthetitle,"ToaFriendwhohadDeclaredHisIntentionofWritingnomorePoetry."
"Didaverylittlebaby."IntheAppendixtoVol.I.ofthe1847editionoftheBiog.Lit.,SaraColeridgewrites,concerningchildrenanddomesticevenings,"Didaverylittlebabbymakeaverygreatnoise?isthefirstlineofanurserysong,inwhichMr.Coleridgerecordedsomeofhisexperienceonthisreconditesubject."Thesonghasdisappeared.
NatureandArtwasMrs.Inchbaldsstory,publishedin1796.LamblaterbecameanenthusiastforJeremyTaylor.]
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