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THOMAS POOLE 
 
 AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
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THOMAS POOLE 
 
 AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 BY _ , s 
 
 MRS. HENHY SANDFORD 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 
 VOL. I 
 
 5LonUan 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 AND NEW YORK 
 1888 
 
 13 
 
THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED 
 
 TO THE LOVED AND HONOURED MEMORY OF 
 
 MY FATHER 
 
 GABRIEL STONE POOLE 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The memoirs which are here offered to the 
 public have absorbed most of the leisure of a 
 somewhat busy life for between three and 
 four years. When I began I hardly con- 
 templated anything more than a magazine 
 article, but the unsuspected richness of the 
 stores of material entrusted to me, and the 
 ever-increasing interest that these gave to 
 my subject, soon showed me that the task 
 which I had undertaken was altogether too 
 large to be dealt with on that scale, and that 
 I stood committed to an amount of labour 
 and research which I had little dreamt of 
 at the outset. 
 
 Once, as I sat surrounded by old letters 
 and notebooks, wearisome to copy, and not 
 
PREFACE 
 
 always easy to decipher, I was rather amused 
 at finding myself interrupted by a faithful old 
 servant, who gravely remonstrated with me 
 for allowing myself to become entangled in 
 what to her appeared to be a very un- 
 necessary expenditure of time and pains. 
 
 ' Aiid what for?' she demanded, very 
 emphatically ; ' there s many a htmdred dozen 
 books already as nobody ever reads' 
 
 ' And What For ? ' This is, after all, a 
 question which may be fairly enough ad- 
 dressed to any one who is proposing to add 
 to that ' surfeit of too much,' through which 
 the readers of the present day have to find 
 their way ; but surely if it can be replied that 
 the new book will bring fresh contributions 
 to a department of literature that is at once 
 interesting and incomplete, the answer is one 
 that cannot but be accepted as sufficient. It 
 is from this point of view that I venture to 
 hope that this record of Thomas Poole and 
 his Friends may meet with a welcome in 
 more than one quarter, as throwing not a 
 
PREFACE 
 
 little additional light on an important epoch 
 in the moral and intellectual life of England, 
 and on a group of men who, in no small 
 degree, helped to make it so. 
 
 By the kindness of Mr. Ernest H. Cole- 
 ridge, an entire series of letters addressed by 
 Thomas Poole to S. T. Coleridge has been 
 placed in my hands, and as regards the other 
 side of the correspondence, I have been per- 
 mitted to make use, not only of the letters 
 that have already appeared in the Biographical 
 Supplement, but also of many hitherto un- 
 printed letters of S. T. C.'s. I should add 
 that the letters I have published are merely 
 those which illustrate the friendship that 
 existed between Coleridge and Poole ; they 
 are but an instalment of that astonishing 
 wealth of biographical material which we 
 hope will be, at no very distant day, given to 
 the world in Mr. E. H. Coleridge's Life of 
 his Grandfather. 
 
 My best thanks are also due to Miss 
 Edith Coleridge for permission to use letters 
 
PREFACE 
 
 from her parents, Mr. and Mrs. H. N. 
 Coleridge ; to Mr. Gordon Wordsworth for 
 permission to use Wordsworth's letters ; to 
 Mr. Godfrey Wedgwood for permission to 
 use the letters of Josiah and Thomas Wedg- 
 wood ; and to Mrs. Lefroy for obtaining for 
 me a similar permission to use the letters of 
 her father, Mr. John Rickman. 
 
 I gladly also take this opportunity of 
 offering my grateful acknowledgments to all 
 those who have aided me in my work by 
 entrusting me with letters and papers, or by 
 bringing to my notice books and circumstances 
 illustrative of my subject. And, amongst 
 these, I must make special mention of those 
 few who could actually remember Mr. Tom 
 Poole, and whose reminiscences have been 
 of the utmost value in enabling me to form 
 something like a living idea of the man as he 
 actually was. And here I cannot forbear to 
 mention my own father, Mr. Gabriel Stone 
 Poole, who died in 1875, but to whom, more 
 than to any one else, the writing of this book 
 
PREFACE 
 
 is due. He had a sincere and affectionate 
 admiration for his cousin, and very often, in 
 days long gone by, I remember that he would 
 frequently speak to me of Mr. Tom Poole 
 and his friendships, and would urge upon me, 
 if ever I should have the opportunity, to 
 make inquiries after the mass of correspond- 
 ence and of other materials which he was 
 confident must still exist, in order that I 
 might make some attempt, should it lie in my 
 power to do so, to rescue that remarkable 
 personality from oblivion. 
 
 Next to these, nothing has been of more 
 service to me than the counsels and criticisms 
 of my kind friend Mr. J. Dykes Campbell, 
 whose acquaintance I was so fortunate as to 
 make just as my work had nearly reached 
 completion, and whose aid has been simply 
 invaluable to me. 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 ' Long years have flown since last I lay 
 On seaward Quantock's heathy hills, 
 Where quiet sounds from hidden rills 
 Float here and there like things astray, 
 And high o'erhead the sky-lark shrills. ' 
 
 Adapted from S. T. Coleridge. 
 
 The paper that I hold in my hand is yellow with 
 age ; the ink has faded, and, at the place where 
 the sheet was originally folded, it has worn into 
 tatters. No wonder ! for the date of the letter is 
 December the 31st, 1799, and it was written, on 
 the last New Year's Eve in the century, from 
 S. T. Coleridge in London, to his friend, Thomas 
 Poole, at Nether Stowey. Coleridge was, at that 
 time, writing regularly for the Morning Post, and 
 describes himself as extremely busy : — 
 
 'I work,' he says, 'from I-rise to I-set (that is, from 
 9 A.M. to 1 2 at night), almost without intermission. . . . 
 I hope you receive the papers regularly. They are 
 regularly sent, as I commonly put them in myself. . . . 
 
 VOL. I B 
 
2 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, i 
 
 ' Being so hurried for time I should have delayed writing 
 till to-morrow ; but to-day is the last day of the year, and 
 a sort of superstitious feeling oppressed me that the year 
 should not end without my writing, if it were only to sub- 
 scribe myself with the old words of an old affection. . . . 
 
 ' God bless you, and him who is ever, ever yours — who, 
 among all his friends, has ever called and ever felt you 
 the Friend. S. T. Coleridge.' 
 
 These words have been chosen by me as a kind 
 of introductory motto, because they present to us, 
 in a vivid, yet perfectly natural manner, the prin- 
 cipal claim which the memory of Thomas Poole 
 has upon all who care for literature — I mean his 
 intimate friendship with some of the most dis- 
 tinguished of those men of note and genius who 
 illuminated the close of the eighteenth and the 
 beginning of the nineteenth century, and more 
 particularly with Coleridge ; and they also suggest 
 the thought, which I think a closer study of his 
 character will but develop and confirm, that there 
 must have been found in him an unusually high 
 degree of the gift or faculty of friendship, — a 
 much rarer endowment than those persons sup- 
 pose who are apt to use the word in a loose, 
 miscellaneous way, making it cover all the various 
 grades of social acquaintance, and extending it to 
 the most transient intimacies, in which not the 
 slightest particle of real affection is either felt or 
 
1765-89 BORN AT NETHER STOWEY 3 
 
 pretended. Yet it is hardly possible to imagine 
 any set of circumstances, not wholly outside the 
 bounds of probability, less apparently favourable 
 to the cultivation of friendships of the closest and 
 most intimate description, with some of the fore- 
 most men of his day, than those which seem to 
 have surrounded the early life, and determined 
 the prospects, of the subject of this memoir. 
 
 He was born on November 14, 1765, at the 
 little country town of Nether Stowey, a town so 
 tiny it might easily have been mistaken for a 
 village, even in those days, but for the market 
 cross in the centre of the principal open space. 
 It nestles at the foot of the little-known, but very 
 beautiful Quantock Hills, whose near neighbour- 
 hood to the grander scenery of Porlock and Linton, 
 which will always be preferred by the ordinary 
 tourist, together with their comparative inaccess- 
 ibility by rail from any of the great manufacturing 
 centres of population,^ have so far preserved them, 
 even till now, from the foot of the explorer, that, 
 if not quite so wild, they are, in many places, 
 almost as solitary as when, a hundred years ago, 
 
 ' Far be it from the present writer not to rejoice, as in a great 
 and signal benefit, that railways have thrown open so much of 
 the beauty of hill and moor and sea to the foot of the cheap 
 excursionist, thus enriching the lives of thousands with new pos- 
 sibilities of enjoyment. Nevertheless there is, and ever must be, 
 a special charm in untroddenness, which we cannot but lose with 
 some regret. 
 
4 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, i 
 
 Tom Poole and his brother Richard used to 
 scramble up and down their steep coombs in the 
 days of their boyhood. A coomb {cwni), in 
 Somersetshire parlance, means a deep little valley 
 with wooded sides, and a stream at the bottom ; 
 and, if it be true that the very name of Quantock ^ 
 signifies in Celtic ' many openings^ this is a very 
 good instance of the happy gift in the naming of 
 natural features, which seems to have distinguished 
 the ancient inhabitants of these islands, for it is a 
 chief characteristic of these delightful hills that 
 they are thus broken up into the loveliest glens 
 and dells, each the special home of some brook or 
 brooklet, green nests where nothing is to be heard 
 but woodland murmurs, and nothing to be seen 
 but branches against the sky. Coleridge's Fears 
 in Solitude was evidently written in the bottom of a 
 coomb — Cockercoomb, perhaps, or Seven Wells — 
 whence ascending, ' by the green sheep-track, up the 
 heathy hill' (for 'the hills are lieathy', except 
 that here and there the eye is caught by the sunny 
 splendour of some 
 
 '. . . swelling slope, 
 Which hath a gay and gorgeous covering on. 
 All golden with the never-bloo?nless furze,') 
 any one may see, as Coleridge saw long since, the 
 wonderful ' burst of prospect ' — 
 
 ' Paper on Topographical Etymology by Rev. W. A. Jones, M. A. 
 Proceedings of the Somersetshire Archaeological Society, 1854. 
 
1765-89 A 'BURST OF PROSPECT' 5 
 
 '. . . here the shadowy main 
 Dim-tinted^ there the mighty majesty 
 Of that huge amphitheatre of rich 
 And el my fields. . . .' 
 and, beyond them, the far expanse of marsh 
 country, stretching away on the right to the 
 furthest horizon, above which Glastonbury Tor is 
 just visible, rising like a bluish-gray island against 
 the sky ; whilst on the left, and opposite, the view is 
 limited by the pale outline of the Welsh mountains, 
 or by the nearer purples of the Mendip Hills, 
 between which and the Quantocks, the level land 
 spreads inward many a mile from the mouths of 
 the Parrett and the Brue,^ sometimes in rich dairy 
 farms, sometimes in long tracks of moorland, brown 
 and spongy, to the very foot of the famous Tor, 
 guiding both the eye and the imagination to that 
 ancient isle of Avalon where King Arthur lies 
 buried, and where the ruins of the sanctuary which 
 Briton and Saxon alike held sacred are still to be 
 seen. The marsh is simply the well-drained bed 
 
 1 ' The shadowy main, dim-tinted,' is an entirely perfect word- 
 picture of the effect of the dun waters of the Severn Sea beheld 
 from that distance. 
 
 ^ It was down the River Brue, of course, that the mystic barge 
 came from Glastonbury to receive the dying king. Tennyson's 
 picture of the 'coast of ever-shifting sand,' and 'far away the phantom 
 circle of a moaning sea,' with the 'death-like mist,' in the midst 
 of which the ' last dim weird battle of the west' was fought, exactly 
 recalls the scenery. But there were certainly no ' zig-zag paths and 
 juts of pointed rock.' How could there be, on such a coast ? 
 
6 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap. I 
 
 of what was once the estuary of the river Parrett, 
 that river which long formed the boundary between 
 the two races,^ and, on the north-eastern side, the 
 very names of the villages — Chedzoy, Middlezoy, 
 Westonzoyland — reveal the homes of these early 
 settlers by the sea-meres with whom the name of 
 Somerset originated, and who were the pioneers 
 of the West Saxon folk in this direction. So that 
 ' seaward Quantock ' looks, as it were, along the 
 actual line of contact, an interesting landmark 
 always, but especially so to the lover of English 
 literature ; for, as if to remind us of our national 
 descent from both, and of the share that Celt as 
 well as Teuton has had in the moulding of the 
 English mind and character, it is here, along this 
 line of contact, just where the latest struggles for 
 the mastery were fought out, and conquerors and 
 conquered at last settled down peaceably side by 
 side and began to mingle and to become one 
 people, that English poetry has ever had her surest 
 abiding-place,^ and discovered her freshest springs. 
 
 ^ i.e. between Dyvnaint and Wessex zoy is pronounced zee, and 
 I stands for s in the West Saxon dialect. 
 
 ^ Do not forget that Stratford-on-Avon lies along this line ; and 
 Langland was born in Shropshire ; and Spenser came originally from 
 that North Countree where Northumbria ran parallel to Strathclyde ; 
 so did Burns ; and if we are to speak of those poets who, each in his 
 degree, were the instruments of that reawakening of the national 
 imagination, that extraordinary revival of English poetry, which has 
 in this nineteenth century given another great age to our national 
 literature, Wordsworth was a Cumbrian ; and Devonshire gave us 
 
176589 'SEAWARD QUANTOCK' 7 
 
 I know of no other point of view from which this 
 line is so distinctly traceable, and so enriched and 
 illuminated with historical and legendary associa- 
 tions. 
 
 Twelve hundred feet is the highest elevation 
 to which ' smooth Quantock's airy ridge ' ever 
 attains ; but although the scenery never rises into 
 grandeur, these hills have a character and a beauty 
 of their own, and once thoroughly known and 
 loved in youth, they will always retain their hold 
 on the affections. One special charm consists in 
 the loveliness of the foliage. The sloping sides of 
 the coombs are clothed, not, as a general rule, 
 with fir, but sometimes with forest trees, or more 
 commonly with oak underwood ; and perhaps it 
 may have been to the near neighbourhood of these 
 oak woods, once more abundant than now, that 
 the large and thriving tanning business owed its 
 origin in which our Tom Poole's father, who was 
 also named Thomas Poole, and his uncle John 
 Poole ^ were both engaged. At any rate, this 
 
 Coleridge ; and Southey, a sharer, though vpith inferior powers, in 
 the same impulse, \yas born at Bristol. 
 
 1 There were two other brothers also, I believe, engaged in the 
 tanning trade, but not in the same business. I have been told that 
 old Mr. Kinglake of Taunton, the father of the author of Eoihen, 
 used to say that these four brothers were all amongst the cleverest 
 men he had ever known. They were the sons of a Mr. William 
 Poole of Marshmill, who died in 1750. There was one sister, an 
 Alice Poole (died 1773), who was not clever, but like other maiden 
 aunts, a great cherisher of old family traditions. She it was who 
 
8 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, i 
 
 constituted an important part of the family pro- 
 perty, and it was natural enough that Thomas 
 Poole, the elder, should decide that his first-born 
 son must, as a matter of course, take to the tan- 
 yard, nor is there anything to show that, the 
 younger Thomas disliked the prospect, or in any 
 way revolted against it. But there was another 
 part of his father's arrangements against which he 
 did revolt, and that in the most determined 
 manner. Whether it be that his father thought 
 that bare reading, writing, and arithmetic, repre- 
 sented all the book learning that a man of business 
 required, or whether it be that he detected in his 
 son a love of literature that he feared might lead 
 to a distaste for trade, must remain a matter of 
 conjecture ; what seems certain is, that Tom was 
 never sent to a good school, his bookish tastes 
 
 remembered how, when a child, she saw her aunt ' weep ' at the 
 death of Queen Anne. Another of her favourite sayings, ' My uncle, 
 Sir Richard, was knighted for valour,' carries us much farther back, 
 for it refers to a Sir Richard Elsworth, who raised a troop of horse 
 for the king, and was knighted during the Civil Wars. His grand- 
 son, another Richard Elsworth, besides founding various schools, 
 founded two small exhibitions at Balliol College, Oxford, for the 
 benefit of natives of the county of Somerset, with a preference to 
 certain parishes, and to founder's kin, one of which was actually 
 held by the eldest son of the John Poole mentioned above — another 
 John Poole, of whom much will be said in these memoirs. This 
 Richard Elsworth died in 1 7 14. The present generation of founder's 
 kin has been pretty numerously represented at the University, but, 
 of course, all special claims upon such endowments have, with 
 Spartan impartiality, been long ago disallowed.. 
 
1765-89 BUSINESS VERSUS BOOKS 9 
 
 were discouraged and sneered at, and he was 
 apprenticed to the tanning trade at as early an age 
 as possible. This may have seemed all the harder 
 to him because his uncle's sons were educated at 
 Tiverton Grammar School, then considered the 
 best public school in the West of England, and 
 the eldest, who showed talent, went thence to 
 Oxford, where he did not fail to distinguish him- 
 self, and to become, in due time, a fellow of Oriel. 
 Even Tom's own younger brother, being intended 
 for the medical profession, was fitted for his future 
 work by a suitable education. Happily, Tom was 
 of too sweet and wholesome a nature for envy and 
 jealousy ; he loved his cousin John, and took 
 affectionate pride in his successes, whilst between 
 him and his brother Richard there was always 
 the strongest possible bond of fraternal love and 
 sympathy ; but he got on very badly with his 
 father, and showed his resentment of the whim 
 that condemned him to ignorance by ostentatious 
 inattention to his work in the tanyard, whilst, in 
 such fragments of spare time as he could command, 
 and always oppressed with a disheartening sense 
 of the difficulty of making progress without better 
 advantages, he seems to have continued his 
 studies with steady persistency, year after year, 
 getting on very slowly, no doubt, but never losing 
 sight of the determination to become a well- 
 
10 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap. I 
 
 educated man. Family traditions represent the 
 elder Thomas as venting his disappointment in 
 taunts and sarcasms. He chose to consider Tom 
 simply in the light of an idle apprentice, and as 
 long as he lived he never ceased to ' twit ' his son 
 with ignorance of his business, though, as time 
 went on, inefficiency was the last thing of which 
 he could justly be accused, whatever may have 
 been his inattention to detail at the outset. 
 
 His mother was a woman of great sensibility, 
 and of so much sweetness of nature that her 
 tender tolerance, and ' overflowing good-will ' to 
 any one whom Tom wanted her to like, made 
 her, in after years, very dear to his friends, 
 and especially to Coleridge, who sends her his 
 love, sometimes his ' filial love,' in almost every 
 letter. Thus in i 799, at a time when Mrs. Poole 
 was recovering from an illness, he wrote : — 
 
 'In this hurly burly of unlucky things, I cannot 
 describe to you how pure and deep joy I have experi- 
 enced from thinking of your dear mother ! O may 
 God Almighty give her after all her agonies, now at 
 last a long, rich, yellow sunset, in this her evening of 
 Life ! — So good, and so virtuous, and with such an untame- 
 able sensibility to enjoy the blessings of the Almighty — 
 surely God in heaven never made a Being more capable 
 of enjoying with a deeper Thankfulness of Earth, Life, 
 and its Relations ! ' 
 
 Of his one sister, Sarah, Tom Poole was both 
 
1765-89 HIS UNCLE JOHN 11 
 
 fond and proud, but the chief happiness and com- 
 pensation, both of his boyhood and early manhood, 
 must have been the perfect affection, and thorough- 
 ness of understanding, that existed between himself 
 and his brother ; whilst, outside their own household, 
 the main resource of both, and probably of their 
 sister also, was found in the society of their cousins, 
 the John Pooles, whose home was at Marshmill, a 
 plain but pleasant country-house in the neighbour- 
 ing village of Over Stowey, and in the sympathy 
 and counsel of their Uncle John, a man described 
 by Tom Poole as one whose 
 
 ' natural sense was incomparable, his information exten- 
 sive, and his desire to use those blessings for the good 
 of his family, his friends, and the neighbourhood, greater 
 than that of any man he ever knew.' 
 
 He was younger than Tom's father, and yet 
 ' generally considered and treated as the head of 
 the family ; ' and, whilst the desire and the deter- 
 mination to achieve usefulness, that noblest of all 
 the various forms of young ambition, was working 
 in Tom's mind from boyhood, in his uncle he saw 
 a living example of the very kind of life upon 
 which his imagination was dwelling, the life that 
 he one day hoped and intended to lead himself 
 Besides this, at Marshmill was to be found the 
 soothing atmosphere of a home, in which the jarring 
 notes of discord were never heard. ' The tender 
 
12 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, i 
 
 affection which the seven children bore their father, 
 and the mother her husband,' was 'beyond anything 
 Tom ever saw elsewhere, and realised as much 
 happiness in that united family as can ever be 
 enjoyed here below.' There were four sisters and 
 three brothers, of whom the eldest, John Poole the 
 young Oxonian, was the special pride of the entire 
 clan. The sisters were brought up to be perfect 
 housewives, complete mistresses of the art of 
 domestic comfort as it was understood by our 
 great -grandmothers ; but they were also, what in 
 those days was much less a matter of course, very 
 cultivated women. The third sister, Charlotte, 
 kept a journal, from which we gather that Tom 
 must have been almost as much at Marshmill as 
 at his own home, and that nothing of importance 
 ever happened to him that he did not at once pro- 
 ceed to share with his cousins. 
 
 Of course he had his special favourite amongst 
 them. The youngest sister, Penelope, was a 
 beautiful, dark-eyed girl, with a voice of unusual 
 power and sweetness, and a fine taste for the best 
 music which made Handel her favourite composer. 
 But Tom's attachment to this attractive cousin 
 was never returned. The family tradition goes 
 that she told him she had been too long accustomed 
 to think of him as almost a brother, to be ever 
 able to regard him in the light of a lover. In due 
 
1765-89 PENELOPE 
 
 "3 
 
 time she married some one else ; and, if he had 
 been like the majority of human beings he would, 
 after a while, have taught himself to like some 
 other woman. But natures gifted with very strong 
 affections are apt to be also very slow to change, 
 and it seems probable that the family impression 
 that it was this unrequited feeling for his cousin 
 which kept Tom Poole single to the end of his life, 
 was a correct one. Much as he loved poetry, it 
 may be because he loved poetry so much, he was 
 little given to verse-making on his own account, 
 but a few stanzas still remain in which he expresses 
 his delight in her singing, or, perhaps, merely seeks 
 to lay the homage of an extravagant compliment 
 at Penelope's feet, by the image of ' sweet Philomel, 
 at Marshmill gate,' listening in a passion of jealousy 
 to strains that outdid her own — 
 
 ' Come unto me all ye who toil,' 
 Was echoing to the zephyr's round — 
 
 She heard, she owned herself surpast, 
 And vanquished, sunk upon the ground ! 
 
 It is not poetry ; it is merely the restless feel- 
 ing after some vehicle of expression for that which 
 is not to be said in direct words, that is common to 
 all young lovers. Often such verses are the merest 
 effervescence of youth, the outcome of passions as 
 short-lived as the froth upon the wave. With Tom 
 the case was different ; and therefore it seemed 
 
14 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap. I 
 
 rather sad to be told, when collecting reminiscences 
 of these early days from the daughter of this very 
 Penelope, that though, in later life, there was no one 
 that her mother ' respected ' more than her cousin 
 Tom, yet there actually had been a time, when she 
 was a dainty, gentle little girl, and he a ' great, 
 strong boy,' when she did not even like him, and 
 rather dreaded the frequent occasions when he and 
 Dick came over to spend the day at Marshmill. 
 Tom, indeed, was always kind ; it was Dick who 
 teased, and who even once hung her doll in the 
 cellar ; but they were both so rough and eager, and 
 so vehement in all their ways, that it was quite 
 enough to make a small and rather timid cousin 
 shrink into herself, and incline to the opinion that 
 all boys were rather objectionable, except her own 
 brothers. 
 
 Then, as time went on, Dick was more and 
 more habitually absent from home, until he finally 
 settled at Sherborne, and his sister Sarah went to 
 keep house for him, and Tom was more and more 
 thrown upon his Over Stowey cousins for com- 
 panionship. He seems to have been an affection- 
 ate light-hearted young fellow in those days, taking 
 his full share in the jolly, sociable life continually 
 going forward among the lesser gentry of the Stowey 
 and Bridgwater neighbourhood, which his cousin 
 Charlotte's journal records. Beyond their own 
 
1765-89 AMERICAN FRIENDS 15 
 
 immediate surroundings tlie cousins' chief intimacy- 
 was with an American family of the name of 
 Coulson, who, having taken the Imperial side in 
 the Struggle for Independence, had been prudent 
 enough to leave their home in Massachusetts at 
 the opening of the American War, and had settled 
 in Bristol. It is not improbable that their first 
 introduction to the Pooles may have been through 
 the medium of a business connection, and, after- 
 wards, assistance may have been given in the 
 transfer of themselves and their property, of which 
 they seem to have been able to save some consider- 
 able portion, to the mother country. What is 
 certain is that the friendship between the two 
 families was very close and intimate, and that the 
 younger Pooles were constant visitors at the 
 Coulsons' hospitable house. It was there that 
 Sarah — more commonly known as Sally Poole — ■ 
 met her husband,^ and the first mention of Tom 
 Poole in his cousin Charlotte's journal, dated 
 December 15, 1789, records his return, with her 
 sisters, from a visit to these very friends. They 
 found their little parlour at Marshmill as comfort- 
 able as ever, sat down to sup on a turkey, and 
 talked of all that had happened during their 
 absence, ' particularly of the dangers Tom Poole 
 had encountered on his voyage to Ireland.' He 
 ' She married Mr. King, a Bristol merchant. 
 
i6 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap. I 
 
 had apparently merely rested in Bristol, on his 
 way home from a longer journey. 
 
 The Coulsons seem to have delighted in society, 
 and to have entertained a great deal. Tom Poole 
 always spoke of their daughter, Mrs. Marchant, and 
 of her niece, Mrs. Darby, as the two most lovely 
 women he ever saw in his life — whence it would 
 appear that beautiful Americans are not a speciality 
 of the nineteenth century. The former lady was 
 the chosen friend of the Marshmill sisters. She 
 was extremely young when the family first came 
 to Bristol, and already the wife of a husband who 
 was understood to have an appointment in India, 
 and who never appeared upon the scene. After 
 his death, many years later, she became Mrs. 
 Harford, and a small portrait of her, painted at the 
 time of her second marriage, is still in the posses- 
 sion of the Poole family— a dark-eyed woman with 
 an olive complexion, and short, dark, curly hair, 
 clustering round a small and shapely head. It was 
 probably Mrs. Darby who gave Tom Poole the 
 lock of Washington's hair, which he regarded as a 
 sacred treasure, and kept in a special casket, placed 
 within the precious copy of the Barberini Vase,^ 
 presented to him by the Wedgwoods. He used to 
 say that it was given to him by the most beautiful 
 woman ever created, and if we knew for certain 
 
 ^ Now in the possession of the King family. 
 
1765-89 AMERICAN FRIENDS 17 
 
 whether he received it from the aunt or the niece, 
 we should know to which of the fair kinswonaen he 
 gave the palm ; but, whichever it may have been, 
 the incident shows both that Tom Poole was a 
 favourite in the Coulson family, and also that, 
 whatever sacrifices Mr. Coulson may himself have 
 made out of loyalty to the British government, 
 the politics of his home circle were by no means 
 uniformly of the same complexion. 
 
 One other American friend must be mentioned 
 — a Mr. Garnett, who, in the last years of the 
 eighteenth century, seems to have been very fre- 
 quently in Bristol. Charlotte Poole in after years 
 described him as a ' prince among men,' highly 
 gifted both in mind and body, and a thorough 
 gentleman, and used to declare that ' all the girls 
 would have been in love with him,' but that it was 
 well known that he was wasting his life in a ' use- 
 less ' attachment to the beautiful Mrs. Marchant, 
 who, on her side, seemed to be wasting hers in 
 solitary lingering under her father's roof, apart 
 from a husband who had almost become a stranger 
 to her. When at last set free by his death it was 
 too late — Mr. Garnett had returned to America, and 
 was on the eve of marriage to another woman. 
 His name finds a place here because he was one 
 of the very first people who took kindly notice of 
 young Tom Poole, and encouraged him in his 
 VOL. I C 
 
i8 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, i 
 
 endeavours after self-improvement. Whether he 
 was quite the paragon that he seemed in the eyes 
 of the young ladies may be questioned, for John 
 Poole, who kept a diary as well as his sister, notes 
 that he ' was not at all the kind of man he had been 
 led to expect ; ' but perhaps this only means that 
 he expected a man of sentiment, and a cavalier des 
 dames, and was surprised to find instead a person 
 of considerable practical shrewdness and ability. 
 His name occurs again and again in Tom Poole's 
 letters, as the inventor of improvements in the 
 machinery used in the tanning trade. But although 
 the main subject of the correspondence may be the 
 ' new bark mill,' or ' patent anti-friction roller,' 
 which Tom Poole wishes to introduce at Stowey, 
 there is always an undercurrent of mutual under- 
 standing upon topics of a very different order ; 
 and there is one letter^ in particular in which, 
 many years afterwards, Tom Poole recalls, ' with 
 sincere affection,' Mr. Garnett's ' kind and friendly 
 attention ' to him ' when he was an ignorant boy.' 
 ' Often have I thought of you with affection and 
 regret,' he writes, ' and, I may truly say, with 
 gratitude. . . .' And he adds, ' Whether I have 
 made a good use of my time or not, I often doubt ; 
 but I have endeavoured to be as useful as I can.' 
 
 ^ Letter to Mr. Garnett written in 1808, of which a copy has been 
 preserved in Mr. Poole's Copying-book, No. 2. 
 
1765-89 THE KEYNOTE OF HIS LIFE 19 
 
 ' To be as useful as I can! This was, as almost 
 every page of this book must show, the keynote of 
 Tom Poole's life ; but, indeed, the passion for use- 
 fulness was a kind of characteristic of the Poole 
 family, and provided a path in which, as we shall 
 see, not even the very deepest division of opposite 
 political opinions could prevent their working hand 
 in hand through life, with a still deeper sense of 
 united sympathies. 
 
THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, n 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 'You welcomed this stupendous event, Sir, with the spirit of an 
 Englishman ; with a spirit which, even in its excess, was truly 
 English. If you shall ultimately appear to have erred, posterity 
 will add more to your heart on this account, than it will detract 
 from your sagacity. To have hoped too boldly of our common 
 nature is a fault which all good men have an interest in forgiving.' 
 — S. T. Coleridge's Letter to Fox, Morning Post, Nov. 4, 1802. 
 
 As Tom Poole entered manhood it soon became 
 apparent that, in spite of his father's sarcasms, 
 books had by no means spoilt him for business. 
 He may, indeed, have been unversed in the 
 practical details of the art of tanning, but with the 
 trade in its wider commercial relations he was so 
 well acquainted that, some time in 1790, he was 
 elected at a great meeting of the tanners of the 
 West of England, held at Bristol, as their delegate 
 to a still more important meeting in London, where 
 he was again chosen for an interview, on behalf of 
 the meeting, with Mr. Pitt, in February 1791, of 
 which the object seems to have been to lay before 
 the Prime Minister the distressed state of the 
 
1790-92 STATE OF THE TANNING TRADE 21 
 
 tanning trade, caused partly by the alarming scar- 
 city of oak bark, and partly by the restrictive effect 
 of the different legislative enactments which insisted 
 upon particular methods of manufacture, and al- 
 most made it penal to introduce any improvements. 
 A further effort seems to have been made in the 
 winter of 1 792, but without much result; for in 
 1793 we find Tom Poole drawing up a memorial 
 for the tanners of Bristol, ' to the Right Honourable 
 the Lords of the Committee of Council for trade 
 and foreign plantations,' to point out that the 
 scarcity of oak bark ' continues and encreases,' and 
 to entreat that the exportation of that article may 
 be forbidden, or else bounties granted for the 
 importation of foreign bark. They are aware that 
 ' bounties have not always produced the desired 
 effect,' but believe that ' in the present case it is 
 easy to prove that a moderate bounty would 
 encrease the trade and revenue of the kingdom,' 
 whilst it is hinted, ' with the greatest diffidence,' that 
 the heavy excise duty paid on every ton of bark 
 does furnish some claim to special consideration. 
 
 The tanning manufacture was indeed so heavily 
 handicapped in those days, that one would almost 
 think nothing, short of the absolute necessity of 
 leather as an article of daily use, could have pre- 
 vented the complete decay of the trade as a branch 
 of national industry. Yet it was not till 1808 
 
22 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, ii 
 
 that even some of the vexatious enactments, 
 which hampered manufacturers and discouraged 
 inventors, were, after long parliamentary investiga- 
 tion, at last removed by the repeal of the statute 
 I James I. c. 22 ; whilst the heavy excise duty of 
 first id. and then i-^d. a lb., imposed on all tanned 
 hides in the reign of Anne,"' was not only not 
 abolished, but was actually doubled in i 8 1 2 ; such 
 being only a mild example of the burdens to which 
 nations find themselves compelled to submit in 
 time of war. 
 
 Except then that, even in minor matters, such 
 as the prospects of a single trade, years of per- 
 sistent refusal to let the question rest are usually 
 needed before the public mind can be awakened 
 to consider the importance, or desirability, of any 
 proposed revision of methods, or change of ancient 
 routine, we might say that Tom Poole's mission on 
 behalf of the tanning trade was not crowned with 
 success, and that the months that he spent in 
 London were, therefore, of little interest and 
 importance. But in the history of his own life 
 and character this first visit to London does form 
 a noticeable epoch. Hitherto, family traditions, a 
 few brief entries in the diaries kept at Marshmill, 
 
 1 The imposition of a duty by weight was, in itself, peculiarly 
 harassing and inconvenient, and placed obstructions in the way of 
 trying improved methods. In 1815 this tax seems to have pro- 
 duced ^500,000. 
 
1790-92 RETURN FROM LONDON 23 
 
 and such scanty references to his early life as I 
 have been able to discover in letters written long 
 afterwards, have been my only materials ; but from 
 this period a regular series of written records begin, 
 and, in particular, several long and intimate letters 
 have been preserved by a Mr. Purkis,^ known in 
 the family as ' the great London tanner,' who, al- 
 though a much older man than Tom Poole, seems 
 to have been strongly attracted by the clever young 
 delegate from Somersetshire, whose literary tastes 
 he shared, and whose political opinions he probably 
 helped to form. When Tom returned home in 
 March 1791 he was soon at his uncle's house at 
 Marshmill ' in high spirits,' and no doubt full of 
 the adventures and experiences of his London 
 visit. Great, however, was the reproachful as- 
 tonishment, not only of his cousins, but of the 
 entire neighbourhood, when it came to be perceived 
 that he had brought back with him to Stowey an 
 ardent sympathy with that, which, even in 1791, 
 was felt to be a doubtful and incomprehensible 
 portent, to be regarded by all right-minded per- 
 sons with the most suspicious caution — I mean 
 the French Revolution. 
 
 ^ For a long time I believed that Tom Poole had been sent to 
 Mr. Purkis to improve his knowledge of business ; but vi'hen the 
 entries in Miss C. Poole's journal vi^ere carefully compared with the 
 memoranda in Mr. Tom Poole's Copying-book, new light was thrown 
 on the subject. 
 
24 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, ii 
 
 Of old Thomas Poole's thoughts about the 
 matter no record remains. It seems impossible 
 but that he must have been rather proud of a son 
 who, at twenty-five, stood so high in the confidence 
 of all the leading men in his own trade ; but the 
 making of disparaging remarks had become a 
 habit, and, if old stories are to be believed, he 
 never left it off as long as he lived. Now, however, 
 Tom occasionally attempted to turn the tables, as 
 when, upon one occasion, he advanced the opinion 
 that his father's practice of keeping no accounts, 
 was a manner of conducting business which was 
 actually barbarous in its simplicity. But the elder 
 Thomas's confidence in himself remained unshaken. 
 ' Tut, tut, boy ; why, what would you have ?' he 
 made answer. ' I owe no man anything ; the pits 
 are full, and there's money in the stocking — what 
 better do you want?' 
 
 Neither of the Thomas Pooles possessed a very 
 yielding disposition ; they disagreed upon many 
 points, and the contentions between them were 
 frequent ; but the chief fault seems to have been 
 with the father, who could not let his son alone. 
 The irritable, arbitrary old man, who might have 
 been better tempered if it had not been for the 
 gout, was not a favourite in the family. ' Uncle 
 Thomas is often very disagreeable,' recorded Cousin 
 Charlotte. Nevertheless it appears that Tom was 
 
1790-92 A VISIT FROM PURKIS 25 
 
 always able to invite his friends to his father's 
 house whenever he would, and the summer of 
 1792 brought him the delight of a visit from Mr. 
 Purkis, which was evidently a great success, though 
 Tom is half apologetic to his London friend for 
 the primitive plainness of life at Stowey. They 
 rode and walked over the Quantock Hills, and 
 spent evenings at Marshmill listening to Penelope's 
 singing, and, in short, entirely enjoyed themselves. 
 And, if that old life were primitive, it had, at 
 least, the advantage of being a good deal less ex- 
 pensive than our present modes of existence are 
 found to be. Remember what it costs now to 
 send a son to a private tutor's and read this reply 
 of Tom Poole to a letter of Mr. Purkis's about a 
 boy in whom he was interested ^ : — 
 
 ' You ask me if we have a cheap boarding-school in 
 this neighbourhood. A Mr. Roskilly, the clergyman of 
 this place, a most amiable, liberal-minded man, and a 
 very good tutor, takes a few pupils ; if your friend wishes 
 to give his boy a classical education there is no situation 
 that I could with so much confidence recommend. The 
 treatment of the children is affectionate and kind to a 
 degree, and, as he takes no day scholars, and not above 
 a dozen boarders, the utmost attention is paid to their 
 studies. Indeed he dedicates his whole time to his boys. 
 His terms are £,20 a year; no presents of any kind are 
 
 ^ Copy of this letter preserved in Mr. Poole's Copying-book, 
 No. 1. The date is June 10, 1792. 
 
26 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, ii 
 
 expected, unless you chuse to give the servants any- 
 thing at the vacations. For the twenty pounds they 
 are boarded, their linen washed, they are taught Latin, 
 Greek, English Grammar, to which particular attention 
 is paid, and Geography ; but what is more valuable than 
 all is the exceeding healthiness of the situation, and the 
 particular attention he pays to their morals. Indeed his 
 boys are as healthy, innocent, and happy, and in as good 
 a train of instruction, as any I ever met with. . . . 
 There is a very decent man who attends the school 
 three times a week to teach such boys as wish it 
 Writing and Arithmetick, for which they pay him five 
 shillings a quarter. There is also a Dancing-master — 
 but these things are optional. I have a charge of mine 
 with him, the son of an eminent merchant at Bristol, 
 and he learns neither of them.' ^ 
 
 The letter was written just before Mr. Purkis's 
 visit to Stowey, and continues as follows : — 
 
 ' I am happy Government pays some attention to the 
 bark business — their ordering bark to be procured from 
 Canada, etc., seems at least to show some goodwill towards 
 us. Pray, are you to send a ship on purpose, or do you 
 take advantage of a back freight ? Let me know the 
 steps the committee designs taking. . . A bounty on 
 the importation of bark would certainly be desirable, and 
 in all probability a prelude to some restriction on the 
 exportation of our own bark, inasmuch as a very strong 
 argument would arise against allowing the free exporta- 
 tion of that which we were granting a bounty to import. 
 
 ' It is puzzling to find writing and arithmetic classed with danc- 
 ing as non-essential extras ! 
 
1790-93 DR. MAJENDIE 27 
 
 I wish the circumstance may not stare Government in 
 the face and prevent their giving us the bounty. . . . 
 When you come into Somersetshire I shall reckon upon 
 your taking a particular account of every object worthy 
 of your attention. I would recommend you to begin 
 with Wells, where the Mail stops a quarter of an hour, 
 and where the cathedral is one of the finest pieces of 
 Gothic architecture in the kingdom. The celebrated 
 and splendid ruins of Glastonbury Abbey would next 
 demand your admiration, but as the coach does not stop 
 at Glastonbury you must defer your view of that interest- 
 ing scene till your return, when perhaps we may together 
 tread the holy ground. I am already in my mind dis- 
 posing of the time when we shall be together. . . .' 
 
 The Mr. Roskilly mentioned in this letter was 
 the curate of Stowey. The vicar was always 
 rather a personage, and, for the most part of the 
 year, non-resident, as the living was in the gift of 
 the canons of Windsor, and they usually appointed 
 one of themselves. In Tom Poole's early manhood 
 the vicar was a Dr. Majendie, who must have been 
 both a good man and a man of very enlightened 
 views, for we find him, in those remote days, when 
 the very idea of such a school was a recent, and 
 in the eyes of many, a questionable novelty, deeply 
 interested in the establishment of a Sunday School 
 in Nether Stowey, which was the earliest effort 
 made in that place for the education of the 
 children of the poor. It is also the first direct 
 
28 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, ii 
 
 work in the service of the labouring classes in 
 which we know Tom Poole to have taken an 
 active part, and it is certain that the question of 
 education, as one of the crying needs of the poor, 
 had already begun to take possession of his mind, 
 though, in 1789, the year in which the first report 
 of the Stowey Sunday School was published, he 
 was only twenty -four. The Marshmill journals 
 abound in notices of a similar school at Over 
 Stowey, of which his cousins, the John Pooles, 
 were the chief promoters. For Dr. Majendie 
 himself Tom Poole entertained a strong feeling of 
 affectionate admiration, which finds expression in 
 many letters, whose rough copies, blotted and 
 interlined, are still to be seen in the pages of 
 his Copying -books. Tom used to take a great 
 deal of pains with his English in those days, and 
 must have spent much time in the translation of 
 his thoughts into elaborately rounded periods, 
 formed upon the model of Dr. Johnson ; but some 
 of these ceremonious epistles are so characteristic 
 of the manners and feelings of a bygone age that 
 they have seemed to me well worth preserving. 
 
 The year 1792 ended, for the whole Poole 
 family, in the deepest gloom. As summer passed 
 into autumn a malignant fever broke out in the 
 Stowey neighbourhood, and Tom's enjoyment of 
 the visit of his London friend was barely over 
 
I790-92 DEATH OF HIS UNCLE 29 
 
 when his Uncle John, after a short period during 
 which his unsatisfactory state of health had caused 
 his family vague uneasiness, sickened unmistak- 
 ably on August 13th of 'the same fever of which 
 so many had died,' and growing rapidly worse 
 and worse, breathed his last on the 30th day of 
 the same month. Tom Poole was present. At 
 the very first alarm he and his sister Sarah had 
 hastened to Marshmill to stay with the sorrow- 
 stricken household ; and perhaps this may be a 
 good place to note that, in spite of the rough 
 abruptness of manner which all his cousins 
 thought so much to be regretted in poor Tom, 
 his wonderful tenderness in times of trouble, and 
 especially of sickness, was so well known as to 
 make his presence continually sought for and 
 desired at such seasons. To his Uncle John he 
 was ' as a nurse,' and I think scarcely one of that 
 uncle's own children can have felt a deeper sense 
 of bereavement at his loss. 
 
 ' The death of my dear uncle,' he writes to Purkis,i ' is 
 the severest stroke I ever felt. ... He was taken off in 
 the prime of health and strength by the dreadful fever 
 which has carried so many to the unknown country. 
 His death has caused a shock in the neighbourhood you 
 can scarcely conceive, and has thrown a gloom over 
 every countenance. . . . 
 
 ' When I last wrote I was in such distress of mind I 
 ^ September 19, 1792. 
 
30 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, ii 
 
 scarcely recollect what I said, but if I did not then 
 remember to do so, my dear friend, let me sincerely 
 thank you for your kindness in paying that short visit to 
 me at Stowey, and to beg you to excuse anythipg which 
 you must have remarked deficient in the reception I 
 gave you. A time will come, I hope, when I shall 
 welcome you to my home, be it where it will, in a 
 manner more to my mind . . . but of one thing be 
 certain, that whatever was amiss sprang rather from our 
 inability than from any want of goodwill. 
 
 ' This letter, my dear friend, must be gloomy, for such 
 is the present state of my mind that I wonder at the 
 cheerfulness I have heretofore experienced, and almost 
 despair of its ever returning again. I reflect, with 
 melancholy pleasure, on the delightful scenes and days 
 through which I have passed, and they appear almost as 
 a dream to me. Do you remember that evening, Purkis, 
 the last I spent with you ? I think I never remember a 
 more delightful one. The heavens smiled upon us, and 
 the pale moon shed her mild lustre on that pleasing, 
 rational conversation, which so swiftly beguiled the way. 
 You then promised to send me some charming lines 
 which you repeated, and which I beg you will transmit 
 to me in your next letter. You also promised to throw 
 into a regular form your account of our little excursions. 
 I do enjoin you to send it to me as well, on the earliest 
 opportunity. . . .' 
 
 To another London friend he writes : — 
 
 ' My uncle was a man who is regretted by all who 
 knew him. He had a good head, and an honest, feeling 
 heart, which prompted him to exert the means Providence 
 
1790-92 ILLNESS OF HIS COUSIN JOHN 31 
 
 had placed at his disposal to the advantage of all around 
 him. His death has overwhelmed his wife and children, 
 who tenderly loved him, with affliction you can better 
 imagine than I describe. But why do I thus write to 
 you of a person you did not know? Because it is a 
 subject that so eternally fills my mind that I cannot help 
 it. . . .' 
 
 Indeed the shadow of death still rested darkly 
 on the once happy home at Marshmill. In the 
 course of September, John, the beloved elder 
 brother, who had just gained his Oriel Fellowship, 
 was taken ill, and brought to the very brink of 
 the grave, by the same terrible disease to which 
 his father had fallen a victim. 
 
 ' For a fortnight he was in a state of raving mad- 
 ness,' wrote Tom Poole, ' and it was the opinion of his 
 physicians that, even if life survived, his senses must be 
 lost, and that a wretched maniac was all that could be 
 preserved of what John Poole once was, — the most 
 accomplished and best of men.' 
 
 The only remedy used seems to have been 
 large doses of opium, and these John Poole, a tall, 
 powerful young man of two -and -twenty, and 
 ' suffering from severe delirium, attended by such 
 spasms in the throat it was feared locked-jaw would 
 ensue,' resisted so violently that even his mother 
 was for giving up in despair. Those were not the 
 days of trained nurses, and no one knew how to 
 
32 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, ii 
 
 act. But, ' What ! ' said Tom Poole, ' let a fine 
 young man die, for want of a little resolution ? ' 
 Whereupon, ' calling in the strongest men from 
 the farm,' he administered the required medicine 
 by main force. ' I believe I may say with truth,' 
 wrote Cousin Charlotte, ' that our dear John owes 
 his life to him.' His recovery was so unexpected 
 that he seemed ' almost as one risen from the 
 dead, and given anew to those who loved him from 
 the hands of the Creator.'^ 
 
 ' Letter to Purkis. 
 
1792-93 THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 ' . . Lo ! the giant Frenzy, 
 Uprooting empires with his whirlwind arm, 
 Mocketh high Heaven ; burst hideous from the cell 
 Where the old hag, unconquerable huge, 
 Creation's eyeless drudge, black Ruin, sits 
 Nursing the impatient earthquake.' 
 
 Coleridge, Religious Musings. 
 
 The death of his uncle would, under any 
 circumstances, have been a great blow to Thomas 
 Poole ; but the particular time at which it occurred 
 was one when he could indeed ill afford to 
 lose the counsels of so beloved and so highly- 
 esteemed a kinsman. The opinion that the 
 French Revolution was a fearful and unnatural 
 catastrophe, to be shuddered at, and certainly not 
 sympathised with, had become by this time a 
 fixed idea in the rural English mind ; and even 
 before the actual commencement of the Reign of 
 Terror dark rumours of the uncontrollable ferocity 
 of the mob of Paris, the raging in the name of 
 liberty against all the bonds of social order, the 
 VOL. I D 
 
34 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, hi 
 
 wild defiances hurled to the very heavens against 
 God Himself, had produced a general attitude of 
 indignant expectation, not unmingled with alarm 
 lest some infection of the same madness should, 
 by any evil chance, visit our own happier shores. 
 Tom Poole was not the kind of person to reserve 
 an unpopular opinion, or to be silent when any 
 of his cherished ideals were attacked or misre- 
 presented. His sense of the misery of the French 
 people through centuries of grinding oppression, 
 his sympathy with their efforts, however wild and 
 convulsive, to achieve their just freedom, was 
 exceedingly deep, and, in season or out of season, 
 he never scrupled to proclaim what he thought. 
 He became for a while, and this especially after 
 the publication of Paine's Rights of Man as a 
 reply to Burke's celebrated Reflections on the 
 French Revohition, a kind of political Ishmaelite 
 in his own neighbourhood, his hand against every 
 man, and every man's hand against him. It was 
 probably at this time that he made his appearance 
 amongst the wigs and powdered locks of his 
 kinsfolk and acquaintance, male and female, with- 
 out any of the customary powder in his hair ; 
 which innocent novelty was a scandal to all be- 
 holders, seeing that it was the outward and visible 
 sign of a love of innovation, a well-known badge 
 of sympathy with democratic ideas. If he did 
 
1792-93 'EVERYBODY TALKS POLITICKS' 35 
 
 not find himself literally in a minority of one, 
 being happy in the comprehension and adherence 
 of his brother Richard, yet his cousins' journals 
 show that the household at Marshmill — the little 
 circle whose support, if he could have obtained it, 
 would have been grateful to him beyond all others 
 — bristled with disapproval ; whilst the small world 
 of Stowey and Bridgwater made no secret that 
 it was very much shocked, and at times almost 
 inclined to believe that Tom Poole ought to be 
 denounced as a public enemy. 
 
 We will begin with an extract from Charlotte 
 Poole's journal, the first in whi'ch she takes any 
 notice of her cousin's ' politicks ' : — 
 
 'December 18, 1792. — John dined with Tom Poole, 
 and from him heard that there was a great bustle at 
 Bridgwater yesterday — that Tom Paine was burnt in 
 Effigy, and that he saw Richard Symes sitting on the 
 Cornhill with a table before him, receiving the oaths of 
 loyalty to the king, and affection to the present constitu- 
 tion, from the populace. I fancy this could not have 
 been a very pleasant sight to Tom Poole, for he has im- 
 bibed some of the wild notions of liberty and equality 
 that at present prevail so much ; and it is but within these 
 two or three days that a report has been circulated that 
 he has distributed seditious pamphlets to the common 
 people of Stowey. But this report is entirely without 
 foundation. 
 
 ' Everybody at this time talks politicks, and is looking 
 
36 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, hi 
 
 with anxiety for fresh intelligence from France, which is 
 a scene of guilt and confusion.' 
 
 On December 23, 1792, Tom himself wrote 
 as follows to his friend Purkis of 
 
 ' a laughable affair, in which, can you believe it, my 
 dear Purkis, you are somewhat involved, and which I 
 will now relate to you. There is a man at Stowey, an 
 Attorney of the name of Symes, with whom I was hereto- 
 fore on an intimate footing, but lately, I hardly know 
 for what reason, we have had little intercourse. He is 
 mighty zealous, in his political opinions, for the present 
 establishment, against what he calls Republicans and 
 Levellers, and believes that every man who thinks many 
 things might be mended in the Government of this 
 country, belongs to that class. In consequence of the 
 proclamations his ardour has increased, and those royal 
 mandates have had precisely that effect between him and 
 me which Mr. Grey foretold on the issue of the first ; 
 viz., setting friends and neighbours by the ears, and 
 exciting domestic as well as public discontent where 
 peace had before reigned. 
 
 ' But to proceed with my story. There is also another 
 man here, a very sensible fellow, a cabinet-maker. In 
 an accidental conversation he lamented the sad alarms 
 which prevailed in the kingdom about the constitution 
 and Thomas Paine ; but withal, expressed a great wish 
 to read his book, and requested me to lend it to him. 
 I accordingly, with some hesitation, lent him a copy I 
 had by me, the only one I ever possessed, with the leaves 
 uncict. As the man came out of the house he met 
 Symes, who, seeing what he had in his hand, snatched 
 
1792-93 PAINE'S 'RIGHTS OF MAN' 37 
 
 it from him, told him it was a very improper book for 
 him,, and in a violent passion tore the book in pieces, 
 and stamped it underfoot. The man was afraid to 
 return it to me with this story, and I heard nothing of it 
 for some time. In the interval, Symes propagated 
 round the country that I was a violent incendiary in 
 political matters, that I had a Box of Books from London 
 which I distributed among the common people, and that, 
 on the whole, I was a most dangerous person ; in short, 
 I was stunned with the sound of the Tower, Newgate, etc. 
 etc., and had really hopes of paying a visit to my Lord 
 Grenville at least. On hearing this, you may imagine 
 the spirit moved me a little, and I seized the first 
 opportunity of seeing Symes, and I think I never saw a 
 man more ashamed of himself and his conduct. The 
 following conversation passed : — 
 
 ' P. What induced you to report I had a box of these 
 books from London ? 
 
 ' 5. The leaves of the book being uncut, the general 
 sentiments I have heard you express making it probable, 
 and I have heard, too, that all your acquaintance in 
 London, whom you esteem so much, and particularly 
 the Mr. Purkis who was lately down to see you, are Re- 
 publicans and Levellers. 
 
 ' P. You have reported and now assert without 
 foundation that for which you ought to be ashamed. 
 The first time I read The Rights of Man you lent me the 
 book ; some time after I purchased it myself, but having 
 read it, I had no curiosity to read it again, and the book 
 remained in the state in which I had received it from 
 the booksellers till you destroyed it. As for my general 
 sentiments, I believe they have been as loyal and as 
 
38 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, in 
 
 consistent with a British spirit as the sentiments of 
 those who have professed more ; and as to my ac- 
 quaintance in London, they are much above your cen- 
 sure or your praise, my knowledge of them I consider 
 to be the happiest event of my Ufe. Mr. Purkis will 
 laugh at your insinuations, and it is almost beneath me 
 to tell you that his sentiments on politicks are more 
 moderate than those of any man I know who thinks 
 with the ability and disinterestedness that he does. But, 
 pray, what do you, or any one in this country, know of 
 the gentleman you have named? Who is your authority? 
 
 'Atthis he boggled a good deal, and at length I found 
 some one had related to him the transient conversation at 
 the door of the King's Head, Bridgwater, the Sunday 
 morning you left that town, in which I ridiculed some 
 of their Corporation men, but in which, if I recollect 
 rightly, you bore little or no part. We separated on his 
 making every apology to me that he could, and on his 
 promising to contradict all he had said. This was all 
 the satisfaction I could well have, situated as I am, but 
 I never had a greater inclination to pull a fellow by the 
 nose, and I am not certain that I shall not yet put it 
 into execution. . . . 
 
 'You will laugh at this business, and perhaps, too, at 
 my warmth ; and the tale has taken up so much paper I 
 have no room for half I wish to say. You ask me, dear 
 Purkis, when I design emigrating.^ I certainly shall 
 defer it till the weather gets milder, but my resolution is 
 
 1 This is the first allusion that I have been able to find to the 
 project, afterwards actually carried out by Tom Poole, of seeking 
 employment as an ordinary workman in some tanyard near London, 
 and spending some time in that kind of life. 
 
1792-93 A WARM CONVERSATION 39 
 
 unalterable. Accept my sincere thanks for your kind 
 advice. Now having introduced tanning, I will go on. 
 Pray have you thought of or done anything in the 
 Article for the Scotch Dictionary ? 1 If not, I beg par- 
 ticularly that you will. . . . 
 
 'Let me know if the Committee propose doing anything 
 in our bark business during the present session ; but I 
 fear Government is so taken up with wars and rumours 
 of wars, and so anxious to check the liberty Mad Dogs, 
 they will hardly deign to pay attention, even to one of 
 the first manufactures in the kingdom. I am anxious 
 to hear the event of your expectation of the co-operation 
 of the Corporation of London, in a revisal of the 
 Statutes. If they should be revised, let it be on a broad 
 basis. . . .' 
 
 In Charlotte Poole's journal, December 26, 
 1792, we find : — 
 
 ' Mr. and Mrs. Lewis and Tom Poole spent the even- 
 ing here. French politicks are become so very interest- 
 ing that people cannot take opposite opinions, and 
 continue to converse with temper. We have had an 
 instance of this to-day in the conversation that passed 
 between Mr. Lewis ^ and Tom Poole.' 
 
 But ' politicks ' did not, as yet, interfere with 
 the cousinly friendship. On December 29 she 
 records : — 
 
 ' Aunt Thomas and Tom Poole were so kind as to 
 spend the whole day with us, recollecting that it was the 
 
 ^ Encyclopedia Britannica, third edition, then publishing. 
 ^ Mr. Lewis was the curate of Over Stowey. 
 
40 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS CHAP, iii 
 
 anniversary of my mother's wedding-day. Their being 
 here helped to dissipate the cloud that hung over her.' 
 
 In January 1793 she writes : — 
 
 'January i. — We heard this morning that Tom Paine 
 was going to be burnt in Effigy at Stowey ; but Tom 
 Poole called, and told us he had put a stop to the pro- 
 ceedings, for after what had passed he thought some 
 people might think it was done in opposition to him, and 
 if he appeared in it, others might think it was hypocrisy. 
 
 'January 15. — Dined at Uncle Thomas's, who was 
 delighted to have us, for they have very little society in 
 Stowey, Sally having left them. Tom can scarcely be 
 called a companion, he is so deeply engaged in his 
 studies ; but I think he would be much more amiable if 
 he would endeavour sometimes to amuse his old father 
 and mother. 
 
 'January 27. — This evening we have been chilled 
 with horror at reading the murder of the King of France.' 
 
 The following letter^ will show what Tom 
 Poole's feelings were in connection with that 
 terrible event and its results : — 
 
 ' I do execrate as much as any man that unnecessary 
 instance of injustice and cruelty perpetrated in France, 
 and should be happy to see every man who voted for the 
 king's death brought to condign punishment. But 'tis 
 not Louis's death, nor the Scheldt, nor the decree of 
 November, that are the causes of the war. It is a desire 
 to suppress the glowing spirit of liberty, which, I thank 
 
 ' T. Poole to Mr. Gutteridge, a London tanner, February 23, 
 1793- 
 
1792-93 HIS OPINION ON THE WAR 41 
 
 God, pervades the world, and which, I am persuaded, 
 all the powers on earth cannot destroy. . . . 
 
 ' Many thousands of human beings will be sacrificed 
 in the ensuing contest ; and for what ? To support three 
 or four individuals, called arbitrary kings, in the situation 
 which they or their ancestors have usurped. I consider 
 every Briton who loses his life in the war as much mur- 
 dered as the King of France, and every one who approves 
 the war, as signing the death-warrant of each soldier or 
 sailor that falls. But besides these motives, what shall 
 we not suffer in other respects ? This country for some 
 time past may be considered as the workshop of France ; 
 we have been growing rich by their confusion. And had 
 Government, instead of the measures they have taken, 
 promoted a rational reform according to the spirit of the 
 constitution, we had, indeed, been a happy people. But 
 now, adieu to all reform ! There is no alternative 
 between absolute quiescence or the most violent extrem- 
 ities. In the reign of Charles I. France had some 
 shadow of liberty left ; but the artful ministers of Louis 
 XIV. alarmed the people of that country with the view 
 of the excesses of parties in England, and induced them 
 to make their monarch despotick. I trust in God there 
 is no similarity between the people of this country and 
 those of France at that time. The excesses in France 
 are great ; but who are the authors of them ? The 
 Emperor of Germany, the King of Prussia, and Mr. 
 Burke. Had it not been for their impertinent inter- 
 ference, I firmly believe the King of France would be at 
 this moment a happy monarch, and that people would 
 be enjoying every advantage of political liberty. 
 
 ' The contemplation of this subject gives me great pain. 
 
42 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, hi 
 
 and I think your sentiments will in general coincide with 
 mine. The slave trade, you will see, will not be abolished, 
 because to be humane and honest now is to be a traitor 
 to the constitution, a lover of sedition and licentiousness. 
 But this universal depression of the human mind cannot 
 last long. ..." 
 
 Earlier in the autumn — it must have been soon 
 after receiving the news of the September massacres 
 — Poole had already expressed to the same friend 
 his grief and anxiety at the bloody turn that 
 events were taking in Paris. Characteristically 
 enough he begins, not with the madness of the 
 people but with the crimes of kings : — 
 
 ' Poor Poland, I pity her fate ! Is there no vengeance 
 from heaven for the Empress of Russia ? Are her gray 
 hairs to go down to the grave in peace ? I trust not. I 
 trust that mankind will be shown that there is a punish- 
 ment, even in this world, for such abominable tyranny. 
 Louis XIV. succeeded as well as the Empress of Russia, 
 yet he lived to see his power lessened and his pride 
 humbled. But Louis XIV., though he exhausted and 
 desolated his own country, never was guilty of what this 
 woman has done. 
 
 ' Speaking of a French despot, we naturally turn to 
 French affairs. What are your sentiments on the present 
 crisis ? Are all the horrid excesses and cruelties of which 
 we hear necessary ? — There is a something, my dear sir, 
 in the character of the French which I thank God 
 Englishmen do not possess. That savage levity which 
 has appeared in this latter revolution, and, indeed, on a 
 
1792-93 EXCESSES OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 43 
 
 review of their history, always did appear in their civil 
 wars, I must abhor; that entire absence of rehgion 
 and mockery of justice are detestable; but, notwith- 
 standing this, I think they did right in deposing the 
 king, and they have an undoubted right, if they prefer it, 
 to choose a Republican government. But why this 
 disgrace to humanity? — As for Christianity, it is quite 
 out of the question. Had human nature any cause to 
 blush during the glorious Revolution in America? 
 
 ' The philosophers and friends to mankind that formed 
 the first French constitution I admire and revere, and 
 that constitution, the most beautiful fabrick that was ever 
 erected by the human mind, gained ground and admirers 
 every day ; but it is fled like a dream, and I tremble lest 
 the present excesses may not give a greater stab to 
 liberty than the Tyrants of the world who are combined 
 against it. . . -' 
 
 Charlotte Poole's complaint that her cousin 
 was so little of a companion to his parents may 
 have been vs'ell grounded, for references in later 
 letters show that Tom Poole, at this period of his 
 life, used to spend from four to five hours daily 
 in study. He had brought back with him from 
 London the desire to become thoroughly ac- 
 quainted with the writings of the above-mentioned 
 French ' philosophers and friends to mankind,' 
 and was working steadily at the acquisition of 
 the French language ; and although he had at 
 first no teacher, it appears that he cannot have 
 been very long before he acquired the power of 
 
44 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, hi 
 
 reading French with tolerable facility. How he 
 found time for so much reading it is difficult to 
 imagine, for his uncle's death and his father's 
 failing health had thrown the chief burden of the 
 family business on his shoulders, whilst now, as 
 ever throughout his life, he was constantly engaged 
 in a variety of local interests ; the Sunday School, 
 for instance, which he sedulously laboured to keep 
 going ; the Taunton Hospital, of which the first 
 stone had been 'laid in 1772 by Lord North, 
 then Premier of England, the immortal father of 
 the present minister, with many other persons of 
 distinction, being present on the occasion.' Now, 
 twenty years later, the building still remained 
 unfinished for lack of funds, and it had actually 
 been proposed that it should be pulled down, and 
 ' the materials sold, in order to discharge expenses 
 already incurred,' a proposition which Tom Poole 
 most earnestly endeavoured to combat, both by 
 writing to the papers and in other ways, entreating 
 everybody not to be a tame spectator of an event 
 which, if once accomplished, would certainly be- 
 come the subject of general, though unavailing 
 regret. 
 
 The Stowey Book Society was also started by 
 Tom Poole in the beginning of 1793, and his 
 Copying-book contains a sketch of the rules, and 
 a copy of the very first list of books ordered to 
 
1792-93 THE STOWEY BOOK SOCIETY 45 
 
 be delivered ' with all expedition, carriage paid, 
 the volumes in boards and the pamphlets stitched.' 
 I can remember this society as still in existence 
 in my own young days ; but it gradually dropped 
 to pieces before the now universal custom of sub- 
 scribing to a London library. It may entertain 
 readers of the present day to see the kind of books 
 that were ordered ; but I must own that I have 
 my suspicions that occasional remonstrances may 
 possibly have been addressed to Tom Poole for 
 sending for too many volumes in which the other 
 members of the society were only very moderately 
 interested. In fact, an instance of something of 
 the kind from his cousin John Poole will in 
 due time find a place in these pages. Here, 
 however, is the list : — 
 
 ' Rights of Women, by Mary Wolstoncraft. 
 
 Gillies's History of Greece ; and also his Reign of 
 
 Frederic the Second, with a parallel between thai 
 
 Prince and Philip of Macedon. In all, 3 vols. 
 Watson's History of the Reigns of Philip the Second and 
 
 Third of Spain. In all, 3 vols. 
 Neckar on Executive Government. 2 vols., tr. from 
 
 the French. 
 Keat's Sketches from Nature. 
 Robertson's Disquisition on the Indies. 
 The Romance of the Forest. 
 Pavis Lequel. 
 Richard's Songs of the Aboriginal Britons. 
 
46 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, hi 
 
 Fox's Lettet' to the Slectors of Westminster. 
 
 Bowman's Tragedies. 
 
 And you must send a book of plain writing paper, 
 proper to keep the Society's accounts, of the value 
 of 3s., and on the cover, printed on a piece of red 
 leather, Stowey Book Society.' 
 
 The following passage is from a letter to Mr. 
 Purkis, dated February 26, 1793 : — 
 
 ' . . . It is so long since we have been in correspond- 
 ence that I hardly know whether we had any particular 
 topicks under discussion. As for politicks, though that 
 subject is now, not as heretofore, a mere matter of con- 
 versation, but an interesting concern to all, I will say 
 nothing, for I know we precisely agree in our sentiments. 
 . . . War is a horrid fiend ; and the closer any thinking 
 humane mind approaches him, the more it is astonished 
 at the indifference with which it has been used to con- 
 template the monster.'- This is a wonderful instance of 
 the quiescence of the mind, and of its readiness to 
 adopt unthinkingly whatever has been made familiar by 
 habit, and offered to it from its earliest capability of 
 perception : in other words, it shows how little men 
 think on anything for themselves. . . . 
 
 ' Have you had any further intercourse with Sir 
 J oseph Banks ? My reason for asking is, that a par- 
 ticular friend of mine, Mr. Anstice, has written an essay 
 on the doctrine of the Velocity of Bodies, which, I think, 
 
 ■''... Boys and girls 
 And women that would groan to see a child 
 Pull off an insect's leg, all read of war, 
 The best amusement for our morning meal. ' 
 
 Coleridge, Fears in Solitude. 
 
1792-93 THE TOWN OF BRIDGWATER 47 
 
 possesses great merit, and which he wishes to be read 
 before the Royal Society. For this purpose I under- 
 stand it must be introduced by a member of that body 
 — are any of them within the circle of your acquaint- 
 ance ? Have you heard from the Editors of the Scotch 
 Dictionary, or made any progress in your treatise for 
 that work ? In their article on " Mechanics " they have 
 taken in the principal part of a little volume on the 
 Construction of '\^'heel-carriages, by my friend above 
 alluded to ; but they have, in some cases, misstated his 
 doctrine, and he wishes to write to them. Do, in your 
 next, give me their address. ..." 
 
 This Mr. Anstice was a shipowrner in the 
 town of Bridgwater, up to which place the muddy 
 waters of the River Parrett are navigable for ships 
 of considerable burden. It is one of those rivers 
 in which the bed seems almost to empty itself at 
 low tide, discovering a brown expanse of soft and 
 shining mud, whilst the water returns in a single 
 great wave, called locally the Bore, the sound of 
 whose approach can be heard a long way off, and 
 as it comes swift and strong round one of the 
 numerous winding reaches, it seems to fill the river 
 in a moment, lifting every vessel, as it lies bare to 
 the very bottom against the sloping banks, with 
 a sudden, peculiar shock. The town of Bridgwater 
 probably originated with the first bridge built over 
 this not very fordable river ; but there is a ford 
 with an old Celtic name — Combwich — a {q^n miles 
 
48 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, hi 
 
 lower down, where, as Somersetshire antiquaries 
 think, Alfred's army crossed the river on their 
 way from Alley ^ to Edington, about six miles 
 farther on. Wedmore, where Guthrum was 
 baptized, and Oiler, where he was confirmed, are 
 not far distant, and I have heard from my father 
 that it was almost a point of honour with John 
 Poole — Tom's contemporary cousin — to maintain 
 that at this Edington, and not at Edington in 
 Wiltshire, had been fought the battle that decided 
 the fate of England. 
 
 Mr. Anstice's house stood facing the river, not 
 very far from the old stone bridge. He was a man 
 of commanding personal appearance, with good 
 means, and much originality and force of character, 
 and was, of course, numbered amongst the principal 
 inhabitants of the town. His name is mentioned 
 as one of those upon whom Clarkson called when 
 he visited Bridgwater in 1787, drawn thither 
 by the fact that the second Petition for the 
 Abolition of the Slave Trade ever presented to 
 Parliament (in 1785) came from the town of 
 Bridgwater. The Quaker petition was the first ; " 
 
 ■' A hamlet near Stowey still bears the name of Alley Green, and 
 Stowey would really be a long day's march on the way from Exmoor 
 to Edington, vid the ford at Combwich ; supposing the Rock Aeg- 
 bryhta, the gathering place of Alfred's army, to have been really 
 some well-known rendezvous in Exmoor, as the Rev. John Poole 
 conjectured. 
 
 ^ The Bridgwater Petition was presented by the Honourable 
 
1792-93 MR. ANSTICE 
 
 49 
 
 it may be that the fact that there were members 
 of the Society of Friends, who were respected and 
 wealthy inhabitants, was not without its influence 
 in the presentation of the Bridgwater petition also ; 
 and that some of these influential Quakers were 
 near connections of Mr. Anstice's, was perhaps 
 the particular circumstance which may have enlisted 
 his sympathies in the same direction ; for he was 
 not by nature a reformer. 
 
 ' Mr. Anstice,' writes one ^ who remembers him, 
 'was even more self-educated than Tom Poole. His 
 father, as well as I can make out, had ships in some trade 
 from Bridgwater, which he commanded himself, and took 
 his son on one occasion to Italy, where he contrived to 
 learn Italian, and for many years he kept a journal in 
 that language. I have seen Italian sonnets of his com- 
 position. Like many of the Anstices, he lacked the 
 impulse which pushes men to the front. Shyness and 
 a sort of apparent indolence prevented their very un- 
 common talents from making the mark they ought to 
 have done.' 
 
 My own father has often spoken to me of this 
 
 Anne Paulet and Alexander Hood, Esq., then Members for Bridg- 
 water. It begged leave to express a just abhorrence of a system of 
 oppression, which no prospect of private gain, no consideration 
 of public advantage, no plea of political expediency, can justify or 
 excuse. The members reported that there was not the least dis- 
 position to pay attention to it. Every one almost said the abolition 
 of slavery would throw the West Indian islands into convulsions, and 
 soon complete their utter ruin. ' They will not trust Providence for 
 its protection in so pious an undertaking.' — Life of Clarkson, vol. i. 
 1 His grandson's widow, Mrs. Joseph Anstice. 
 VOL. I E 
 
50 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, in 
 
 ' old Mr. Anstice,' as one of the most noticeable 
 men he ever met, and although the morbid shy- 
 ness above remarked upon was certainly a family 
 characteristic, one of his grandsons did actually 
 bid fair to achieve very high distinction, but that 
 his brilliant career was cut short by an early death. 
 This was Mr. Joseph Anstice, first Professor of 
 Classics at the London University, who was a 
 college contemporary and friend of Arthur Hallam, 
 Mr. Gladstone, and other distinguished men. 
 
 The only thing he had time to publish was a 
 volume of beautiful Translations from Greek Choric 
 Poetry ; but some of the hymns written during 
 his last illness have found a place in Hymns 
 Ancient and Modern, and are well-known favourites. 
 The Harvest Hymn — 
 
 ' Lord of the harvest ! once again 
 We thank Thee for the ripened grain,' 
 
 and the hymn beginning 
 
 ' O Lord, how happy we should be. 
 If we could cast our care on Thee,' 
 
 may be cited as examples. 
 
 This Joseph Anstice's brother Richard suffered 
 from so extreme a form of the family shyness, 
 that his tutor had almost to use force to get him 
 into the schools at Oxford, where on the second 
 day he found in his place a paper, signed by the 
 
1792-93 A REMARKABLE MAN 51 
 
 examiners, stating that Mr. Anstice had ah-eady 
 done enough to obtain the highest mathematical 
 honours Oxford could bestow. Both these were 
 sons of that very Penelope Poole of Marshmill, 
 for whom Tom Poole cherished such a strong 
 partiality. Her husband, Mr. William Anstice, 
 exercised the calling of an ironmaster at Madeley 
 Wood, in Shropshire. He was much younger 
 than herself, but the marriage was a very happy 
 one, and almost all their large family of children 
 were above the usual average in talent. Her 
 husband has been described to me as one of the 
 most fascinating of men, brilliant in wit — all the 
 Anstices possessed that delightful endowment, a 
 strong sense of humour — very poetical, very re- 
 ligious and highly principled, and at the same time 
 a firstrate man of business, and of considerable 
 scientific acquirements. This was a hereditary 
 taste. Science, but more particularly advanced 
 mathematics, was the delight of ' old Mr. Anstice,' 
 and the favourite employment of all such intervals 
 of leisure as he could secure from business in those 
 quieter days when leisure was more abundant 
 than it is now. Even on his deathbed, at con- 
 siderably past eighty years of age, he sent to his 
 grandson Dick (the Richard Anstice before men- 
 tioned) some papers in connection with the 
 squaring of the circle, about which Dick remarked 
 
52 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, in 
 
 that though, of course, not really successful, they 
 contained the nearest approximation that had 
 ever been made, which was known to mathema- 
 ticians as the Solution of Archimedes. He thought 
 his grandfather must have learnt and forgotten it ; 
 but even if so, this showed that he must have 
 gone deep into the subject. It was the last effort 
 of the old man's brain ; he became delirious, and 
 died in a few days. The story has been told 
 here to give some idea what manner of man he 
 must have been at a much earlier period of his 
 life, when his grandsons were not yet born, and 
 their father a mere youth, too young for poor Tom 
 Poole to regard as yet with jealous eyes, however 
 frequently he might be seen hanging about that 
 enchanted spot, the parlour at Marshmill, to which, 
 indeed, Tom was wont to bring every guest 
 whom he thought interesting, but where, doubtless, 
 he would fain have had no one else so intimately 
 at home as himself 
 
 The next mention of Mr. Anstice in Tom 
 Poole's correspondence is a very different one, and 
 must be sought for in another chapter. It is 
 discouraging to find, from the following letter to 
 Mr. Purkis,^ that the efforts on behalf of the 
 Hospital were unavailing. 
 
 'I thank you,' writes Tom Poole, 'for the trouble 
 1 T. Poole to S. Purkis, April 17, 1793. 
 
1792-93 MOST UNCONSTITUTIONAL 53 
 
 you took about the Taunton Hospital : you have seen 
 in the papers that the building is to be destroyed. . . . 
 
 'The failures at Bristol have been, and continue to 
 be, melancholy. A great slave merchant was the first 
 vi^ho failed, and in his ruin involved hundreds. Un- 
 warrantable speculation seems to have been the cause of 
 these calamities, and indeed may be considered as the 
 mercantile sin of the age. It arises from a bad principle, 
 to pursue which would require more room than I can 
 afford in this letter. 
 
 ' You say you have done nothing respecting our busi- 
 ness before the Lords in Council. I hope you will not 
 allow it to drop, but at present we are urgently called 
 to action before a higher court — I mean the House of 
 Lords, where a Bill is pending which, if I understand 
 it rightly, will, in its operation, do more harm to the 
 leather trade than the loss of all the bark exported this 
 kingdom. Tanners, curriers, cordwainers, all are inter- 
 ested. A most unjust and partial clause is admitted in 
 a most unconstitutional Bill (the Traitorous Correspond- 
 ence Bill), by which clause the leather trade is deprived 
 of the favour extended to other manufactures ; and we are 
 told that it is high treason to supply the French with a 
 pair of shoes, whilst you may very innocently sell them 
 a coat ! I hope our Committee will immediately pay 
 attention to this subject, and, if we are used unjustly, 
 spare neither expense nor pains to obtain redress. All 
 we can do is to lay the business before counsel, and, if 
 necessary, pray to be heard by counsel at the bar of the 
 House of Lords. . . . 
 
 ' I am glad you have so much time allowed to prepare 
 the article for the Encyclopedia. I recommend you to 
 
54 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, in 
 
 begin as soon as you conveniently can, as I am per- 
 suaded many new ideas arise in the progress of a work 
 which we scarcely imagined the subject to be susceptible 
 of at the commencement. Besides, it is suicide to the 
 abilities and an insult to the public to print a crude, 
 hasty composition, where no concurrence of circum- 
 stances prevented mature deliberation. The only assist- 
 ance I can give you is through my chemical, tanning 
 friend at Sherborne, who gives, I think, the best account 
 I have ever heard of the chemical action of the substances 
 used in the process. . . . 
 
 ' "W'ith respect to my Einigration ; I have fixed it for 
 the beginning of June. Wantage seems to be the best 
 place to select. I design being i7icognito and in forma 
 pauperis. The particulars I will give you in a future 
 letter. ..." 
 
 This chapter may be appropriately concluded 
 withanother extract from Charlotte Poole's diary: — 
 
 ^December 14. — Amused ourselves with reading Dr. 
 More's journal while he was in Paris on the dreadful 
 loth of August; which sent us to bed in bad spirits, 
 and not in charity with all mankind, but hating the 
 French.' 
 
1792-93 A CIVILISING ELEMENT 55 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 ' As generations come and go, 
 Their arts, their customs, ebb and flow.' 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 The dignified position of the vicars of Stowey 
 in the estimation of the Stowey neighbourhood 
 has been already mentioned. It was, no doubt, 
 partly due to their being also canons of Windsor ; 
 but the circumstance that two or three vicars 
 successively seem to have been men of some 
 mark, must be allowed its due weight. Miss 
 Charlotte Poole said long afterwards to a niece of 
 hers, who was wondering how, in an age when 
 female education was little attended to, it had 
 come in the way of herself and her sisters to 
 attain to the degree of culture and accomplishment 
 which they actually possessed, that they owed 
 much to the wives of the vicars of Stowey, who 
 unconsciously set a standard of refinement and 
 education distinctly higher than that of the re- 
 
S6 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, iv 
 
 mote little rural world into which their husbands' 
 duties brought them from time to time. 
 
 ' We always looked to them, my dear,' said 
 Miss Charlotte, ' as a civilising element.' 
 
 I suppose it is hard for us to understand how 
 much a civilising element may have been needed 
 before the great improvement in the means of 
 communication arrived to bring even the remotest 
 places into easy connection with the larger world. 
 The Marshmill family were, of course, not parish- 
 ioners, but they were always on terms of friend- 
 ship with the Nether Stowey clergy and their 
 families ; whilst the Thomas Pooles, father and 
 son, seem to have acted as habitual helpers to 
 successive vicars in matters of tithe and glebe, and 
 other parochial questions, in which the assistance 
 of a loyal layman, who is also a man of business, 
 is very essential to a clergyman. The following 
 letters from the younger Thomas Poole to Dr. 
 Majendie,! in which the formal respectfulness of 
 the style does not prevent a tolerably free ex- 
 pression of opinion, give a curious picture of the 
 manners and feelings of a bygone age : — 
 
 ' Rev. Sir — As I have been accustomed to your good- 
 ness, I certainly should have intruded on you ere this 
 had I been able before to procure the little package 
 
 1 Vicar of Stowey from May 1790 to April 1793. The letter is 
 dated December 15, 1792. 
 
1792-93 LETTERS TO DR. MAJENDIE 57 
 
 which accompanies this letter,^ and which we beg, with 
 respectful comphments to yourself and Mrs. Majendie, 
 you will accept. 
 
 ' It gave us great concern that we had not the satisfac- 
 tion of taking leave of you, or of hearing from you, 
 before you left Stowey. Did you know, dear sir, how 
 much we were interested in the event then in contem- 
 plation — I mean your residence in Stowey — you would 
 not wonder at this. We have since heard that you have 
 for the present given up the idea, but we yet hope that a 
 time will come when you will spend a small portion'of the 
 year in Stowey. I need not, sir, observe that your resi- 
 dence here would correct the manners, mend the hearts, 
 and strengthen the faith of all your parishioners, and, 
 I will venture to say, work a very material and desirable 
 change in the disposition of the most insensible. This 
 I should not presume to remark did I not know that this 
 consideration would argue more forcibly in your mind 
 than any other I could offer. ... I can only add that 
 our family would be happy to contribute any means 
 which may fortunately be in their power to make your 
 residence at Stowey as convenient as the place will 
 admit. 
 
 ' But though, sir, we have not heard from you, we 
 suspect that you have further claims on our gratitude. 
 My brother at Sherborne has lately received some atten- 
 tions from the Admiral and Earl Digby, and perhaps 
 you have again kindly reminded them of his residence 
 there. The Admiral honoured my brother with a call, 
 Saturday, the 20th November; and on the Saturday 
 
 1 Perhaps n salmon. That fish abounded in the River Parrett, 
 and Tom Poole often sent presents of salmon to his friends. 
 
58 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, iv 
 
 following he was desired to dine at the castle. He 
 there met the Admiral and his lady, and Mr. and 
 Mrs. Frome, the only people in Sherborne whom my 
 lord and her ladyship visit on anything like familiar 
 terms. He was received with that condescension, 
 even from her ladyship, which I must say is unusual 
 at the castle towards the inhabitants of Sherborne ; 
 and, on taking leave, the Admiral requested my 
 brother to pay him a visit soon at his house in the 
 neighbourhood. These events will give him no in- 
 considerable eclat, and will be, in their consequences, 
 of solid advantage to him. We owe them entirely to 
 you, and can only repeat the thanks we have before 
 offered. . . . 
 
 ' We had a short time since a meeting of the subscribers 
 to the Sunday Schools. We regretted the absence of the 
 principal supporter of those noble institutions, but trust 
 he will approve of the measures on which we determined, 
 which were, to purchase the boys a new coat and hat 
 each, and the girls a hat to wear Sundays ; we hope 
 to get these clothes ready by Christmas Day. As a 
 further inducement, we proposed giving to each child 
 who attends the schools without one omission, one 
 penny on the first Sunday in every month. The expense 
 will be trifling, and being something in the children's 
 own pockets, seems to operate very powerfully. As for 
 the rest, I believe every desired object of these institu- 
 tions is answered. The School of Industry, too, is 
 placed on a new, and, I think, better plan, and we hope 
 to carry it on in a more spirited manner than we have 
 hitherto done. Indeed we should be truly reprehensible 
 did we not exert ourselves to carry into effect those 
 
1792-93 LETTERS TO DR. MAJENDIE 59 
 
 institutions to which you, sir, give such Uberal, such 
 unprecedented support.^ 
 
 ' A more pleasing subject still I have reserved for the 
 end ; it is to congratulate you, sir, on the preferment you 
 have lately acquired, which we see announced in the 
 papers. That this may be only a prelude to that which 
 is yet more solid, and that you may long enjoy all the 
 blessings Providence can bestow, believe to be the 
 sincere hope of, Rev. Sir, your obliged, 
 
 'Thos. Poole.' 
 
 The preferment in question was the rectory of 
 Hungerford, to which Dr. Majendie had been pre- 
 sented. In those days of pluralities this did not 
 involve, as a matter of course, the resignation of 
 the vicarage of Stowey, but the two following 
 letters will show that the consciences of the more 
 earnest among the clergy were already beginning 
 to awaken to the evils of non-residence. 
 
 ' I have both your last letters, but with very different 
 sensations : the former was another instance of your 
 kindness to me, the latter informs me of an event which, 
 
 ^ In a subsequent letter the following passage occurs : — 'It rejoices 
 me exceedingly that when some men of considerable eminence hold 
 up the most cruel and degrading principles, you, sir, remain unshaken 
 in your conviction of the utility of Sunday Schools. In a political 
 pamphlet which Arthur Young has lately published, containing in 
 general most excellent advice, there are some remarks — particularly 
 in the Appendix — which make me blush for enlightened human 
 nature more than I ever saw occasion for in the whole course of my 
 life. Such doctrines might have been expected from some, but to 
 see them come from Arthur Young must give pain to every feeling 
 mind.'— Thomas Poole to Dr. Majendie, April 1793. 
 
6o THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, iv 
 
 I must confess, I have expected, but which gives me 
 more pain than I can express, and which, perhaps, in 
 its consequences, is a loss to me greater than I can 
 estimate. We had no right, sir, to expect such a man 
 as you long to remain Vicar of Stowey, nor has the 
 treatment which you have experienced here given you 
 any reason to resign the living with regret. I do most 
 sincerely lament those disagreeable circumstances which 
 have occurred during the short time you have presided 
 here, not so much in a pecuniary point of view, as 
 because I fear they have frequently agitated your mind 
 and disturbed your peace. I ardently pray that those 
 amongst whom you are now going may know better how 
 to estimate your worth. My father and mother are 
 equally afflicted by this intelligence, and you may rest 
 assured, sir, that your goodness will be impressed on 
 their minds to the latest hour of their lives. . 
 
 ' You say, sir, wheresoever you may go you will not 
 entirely forget him who is now writing. This, sir, is too 
 much, and I fear I can have very little in future to 
 communicate that will be interesting to you ; but if, at a 
 leisurable hour you will condescend to write to me, it 
 will occupy some of my happiest moments to read and to 
 answer your letters, and should you conceive it ever in 
 my power to render you any personal services, here or 
 elsewhere, your commands would give me the highest 
 pleasure. Hungerford is, I think, situated on the great 
 road from Bath to London ; it is possible I may, some 
 time or other, pay my respects to you there. But I 
 have a hope that we shall see you at Stowey once more 
 before you take a final leave. It would give us the 
 greatest, yet I must say a melancholy, satisfaction. . . . 
 
1792-93 LETTERS TO DR. MAJENUIE 6i 
 
 ' At the end of your letter you are pleased to intimate 
 that you will soon inform me more particularly of the 
 circumstances which led to your resignation of this 
 living ; I wait anxiously to hear them, and tho' I regret 
 our loss, yet if it adds satisfaction in any manner to you, 
 be assured it gives the sincerest pleasure to. Rev. Sir, 
 your obliged and sincere humble servant, 
 
 ' Thos. Poole. 
 
 'I'.S. — Since writing this letter I have been so fortun- 
 ate as to meet with a brace of woodcocks, which, tho' 
 hardly worth your acceptance, I have added.' ^ 
 
 In reply Dr. Majendie seems to have said that 
 he had resigned the living of Stowey principally 
 on account of a conscientious objection to be a 
 non-resident vicar, a reason which met with the 
 warmest approval from Thomas Poole. 
 
 ' Happy would it be,' he writes,^ ' for the cause of 
 religion, if every clergyman felt on this subject as you 
 do. Those cavils, and that torrent of abuse, poured 
 out by designing men against the Established Church, 
 had never existed, if all had considered the importance 
 of residence ; or, if by peculiar circumstances their own 
 residence was prevented, the importance of chusing a 
 competent representative. Generally speaking, the digni- 
 taries of the English Church do themselves and the sacred 
 religion of which they are the ministers honour. But 
 you, sir, must be aware that very many of the inferior 
 clergy, to whose care large congregations are frequently 
 entrusted, disgrace their profession and violate their 
 
 1 The date is January 3, 1793. ^ March 4, 1793. 
 
62 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, iv 
 
 religion, not only by the commission and sanction of low 
 vice, but by the neglect of the most positive duties. If 
 on this subject I talk in an unbecoming manner, your 
 goodness will attribute it to no other source than to my 
 ignorance of that propriety of conduct, so difficult 
 sometimes to ascertain ; but, in truth, I am led thus to 
 express myself by comparing your most excellent example 
 with the opposite conduct of many whom I now call to 
 mind. . . . 
 
 ' I write to you, sir, without reserve, and sometimes, 
 I fear, too familiarly, but your repeated assurances 
 prompt me to do it. . . .' 
 
 This series of letters may appropriately con- 
 clude with one ^ in which Tom Poole expresses his 
 indignation that some one should have reported 
 to Dr. Majendie that his brother Richard is a 
 flaming democrat. 
 
 ' Rev. Sir — Your last letter informs me of two circum- 
 stances which have given me no small uneasiness, and 
 which induce me to take this early opportunity of 
 answering it, tho' I am sensible I ought to apologise for 
 thus frequently intruding on your attention. These are, 
 first, your indisposition, which I sincerely hope is ere 
 now entirely removed, and, in the next place, your having 
 heard that my brother at Sherborne is i, flaming democrat. 
 
 ' I most sincerely thank you, sir, for your candour in 
 stating to me what you have heard, and I rejoice that 
 those from whom you receive information at Sherborne 
 condescend to mention any opinions which they suppose 
 my brother to possess, and may, for the moment, dis- 
 
 1 May 27, 1793. 
 
1792-93 HIS BROTHER'S POLITICS 63 
 
 approve. It shows that those, of whom to merit the 
 esteem and approbation will be his highest gratification 
 and honour, do not regard him, or that which may 
 concern his welfare, with indifference. 
 
 ' When my brother first came to Sherborne politicks 
 were not considered in that serious point of view which 
 they have been since, but were rather recurred to as a 
 matter of conversation, about which men might talk 
 without the least apprehension. They seemed peculiarly 
 well suited to a stranger, who, in a mixed company, with 
 the connections of which he was little acquainted, could 
 scarcely venture to speak of local events, lest he should 
 incur the displeasure of some one or other. With respect 
 to any opinions he may have advanced, 1 do believe, 
 sir, they were not those of which you would disapprove. 
 When there was a probability of a limited monarchy in 
 France, he applauded some of their measures, but long, 
 very long since, has he viewed with horror and detesta- 
 tion the excesses perpetrated in that unhappy kingdom. 
 He never admired the democratic form of government, 
 nor did he need the fatal experience of French events 
 to convince him of the futility of that splendid theory. 
 With respect to the British Constitution, he always did, 
 and does, revere it as the greatest effort of human 
 wisdom, and would, if necessary, sacrifice everything to 
 its preservation. To say that he does not see some 
 abuses which in a proper time, and in a proper manner, 
 ought to be amended, would be ridiculous. I believe 
 there is not a Briton but perceives some ravages of time 
 in the splendid mansion of his fathers, in a summer 
 season, and by competent and duly authorised workmen, 
 he could wish to see repaired. 
 
64 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, iv 
 
 ' I need not, sir, observe to you that frequently, very 
 frequently, the vanity of argumentation induces men to 
 advance what they by no means seriously approve, or 
 wish to be considered as their principles. This idle 
 conduct is often exercised in the discussion of topicks 
 which are considered of small importance, which, in fact, 
 was my brother's idea with respect to his opinion on 
 politicks ; but when he found there were those who, 
 perhaps, were jealous of that degree of notice with which, 
 through his friends, and through you, sir, particularly, he 
 was honoured, who carefully propagated any expressions 
 which might fall from him in the juvenile heat of 
 conversation, which they thought would operate to his 
 disadvantage, he became more cautious, and took the 
 only means in his power of refuting those calumnies^by 
 deliberately coming forward among the first to sign the 
 declaration of attachment to the present Establishment 
 in Church and State, which was agreed to by the in- 
 habitants of Sherborne, and patronised by Lord Digby. 
 
 ' I do not know, sir, what more I can add ; but thus 
 much have I said to exculpate him from the charge 
 brought against him, and I entreat you, sir, to undeceive 
 those who informed you of it, as I pledge my honour 
 that what I have asserted is literally and unequivocally 
 true. You will excuse some warmth on my part, as I 
 cannot express how tenderly I feel this circumstance, 
 which strikes so near his best interest, and which may 
 operate to the loss of the good opinion of those whom 
 he loves and honours. I fear, sir, I have tired you with 
 this topick, and will, though reluctantly, change it. . . .' 
 
 And then Mr. Tom Poole plunges into parish 
 
1792-93 QUESTIONS OF TITHE 65 
 
 matters and questions of rent and glebe. He 
 concludes as follows : — 
 
 ' On receiving notice to set out his tithe in kind 
 
 thought proper to offer ninepence in the pound for his , 
 small tithes ; this is the full value of them if he sowed a 
 due proportion of corn, which I am thoroughly convinced 
 he must soon do, to gain anything like the real profits of 
 his farm. On this consideration my father advised Dr. 
 Fisher^ to accept the proposal. . . . You, sir, have fought 
 the battle, and your successor receives the fruits of it. 
 At this I am sure you will not be displeased, but it 
 embitters my mind when I recollect the pain you were 
 given during the time that you presided over us. That 
 you may never again experience the like usage I hope 
 and trust. . . . Believe me to be, with sincere respect 
 and affection, your obliged humble servant, 
 
 'Thos. Poole.' 
 
 In connection w^ith the above letter it may be 
 observed that probably few measures have ever 
 had a more satisfactory effect in healing heart- 
 burnings and averting strife than the Act for the 
 Commutation of Tithes. I have heard my father 
 say that, before that Act was passed, there was 
 scarcely a parish in the kingdom in which the 
 amount of the tithes was not a fruitful occasion 
 of disputes and unpleasantness ; whilst in almost 
 
 1 The Rev. John Fisher, D.D., was Dr. Majendie's successor. 
 He had been tutor to the Princess Charlotte, and was afterwards 
 Bishop of Exeter. 
 
 VOL. I F 
 
66 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, iv 
 
 every instance with which he was personally 
 acquainted, the parson was habitually receiving less 
 than his legal due. 
 
 There will be some, perhaps, who will feel a 
 little offended at the extreme deference with which 
 Mr. Tom Poole, in the foregoing letters, writes 
 to 'a dignitary of the Church,' and still more 
 scandalised at the obsequious tone of the reference 
 to ' my Lord Digby.' We must, however, be 
 careful to remember the difference of manners, and 
 understand not only that, in every kind of social 
 intercourse, a degree of form and ceremony was 
 then observed which, in the present day, has 
 entirely gone out of use ; but also that, when 
 railways had not as yet brought the whole kingdom 
 into easy connection with London, local centres 
 had a far more definitely marked existence, and 
 the chief personages in every country neighbour- 
 hood were far more important potentates than they 
 are now or ever can be again, and were, as a matter 
 of course, approached, and treated, with a deference 
 which is now hardly accorded even to the royal 
 family, and certainly to no one else. Upon the 
 whole, the change of manners has been in the 
 right direction, and means not only a general rise 
 in self-respect, but also a generally higher average 
 of culture and good-breeding throughout all classes, 
 — a sort oi levelling up, which cannot be thought of 
 
1792-93 'MANNERS MAKYTH MAN' 67 
 
 without great satisfaction and thankfulness. Of 
 course there is no advance without its attendant 
 drawbacks, and many of us are inclined to think 
 we are now a little in danger of being carried rather 
 too far in the opposite direction, and becoming 
 unmannerly in our unceremoniousness. Perfect 
 ease and freedom, with perfect self-restraint, is the 
 natural atmosphere of good manners ; but perfect 
 free- and -easyness, with as little self-restraint as 
 possible, is vulgarity in principle, and must, sooner 
 or later, become vulgarity in practice. 
 
 That Mr. Tom Poole's deference to rank and 
 dignity did not prevent a sturdy pride in his 
 position, may be seen from the following letter,^ in 
 which he laments the retirement from business of 
 his friend Mr. Purkis, and bewails the tendency 
 which he observes in those around him, to put 
 sons into professions rather than into trade. It 
 was, perhaps, on account of the declining prospects 
 of the tanning trade at that particular time, that 
 the Poole family seem to have generally, though 
 gradually, withdrawn from it. John Poole had 
 been elected Fellow of Oriel a few months before 
 his father's death, and was intending to take 
 orders ; J. Ruscombe Poole, the next brother, and 
 my own grandfather, had, also just before his 
 father's death, been articled to a Mr. Jeffreys, a 
 1 T. Poole to S. Purkis, undated. Probably December 1793. 
 
68 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, iv 
 
 solicitor in Bridgwater, where, in course of time, he 
 became the founder of a very good business, still, 
 in the third generation, in the hands of his 
 descendants ; another brother, Nathanael, died 
 young. Tom Poole's other uncles left only female 
 descendants ; his brother Richard, we know, was 
 a doctor. He himself held faithfully to the old 
 tanyard, putting a degree of feeling into the 
 matter utterly perplexing to outsiders, whose 
 general impression cannot but be that nobody can 
 imagine what place there is for enthusiasm, in 
 connection with an avocation so undistinguished 
 and so unbeautiful : — 
 
 'My dear Purkis — You are then really about to 
 resign trade. I have written to you sincerely my sentiments 
 on the subject, and I should not have been satisfied had 
 I not done so. I bow to your elder judgment, but I 
 must say a word or two on your sarcastic observations on 
 what fell from me concerning the dignity of man and 
 the duties of a member of society. You say, you could 
 write pretty periods on these holiday theories not fit for 
 every-day practice. Is a man's placing himself in a 
 situation by which he could do much good to society, by 
 supporting a number of its members, a holiday theory un- 
 fit for every-day practice, and a proper subject for pretty 
 periods? If a man is conscious of virtues, does not 
 humanity prompt him to extend the sphere of their influ- 
 ence as far as possible? And does he do this by 
 becoming a hermit? Were all men equally informed, 
 
1792-93 A LETTER TO PURKIS 69 
 
 were the desires of all moderate, were there no room to 
 alleviate the misfortunes and distresses of some, and to 
 check the vice and disgusting ostentation of others, then 
 may the man who feels those things, and thinks of them, 
 indulge the epicurean desire of living only for himself; 
 but as human nature is constituted, it seems to my mind 
 an imperious duty for every such man to extend those 
 principles which he thinks will tend to correct the ex- 
 tremes of society, and to stand firm to the post at which 
 Providence has placed him. You may give the epithet, 
 if you please, of pretty periods to what I now write ; but 
 these are only a very few of the arguments which may be 
 advanced on this side of the question, and I think they 
 are sufficient. 
 
 'We will now contemplate the subject in another point 
 of view. ... In the present state of our community 
 when a man retires, however contracted be his means, he 
 is considered a Gentleman. If he has children, the young 
 mind soon seizes the gilded idea, and they fancy they are 
 to be fine ladies and genteel gentlemen in their turn ; 
 and, in truth, these fancies only fall in with the depraved 
 mind of the public, for it is deemed a retrograde motion 
 of a man in the situation in question, to breed his boys 
 to trade and his girls to housewifery. What then is such 
 a man to do to make his children happy, and to keep up 
 his fancied dignity ? " The professions are open.'' With 
 respect to the Bar, it has in this country been a splendid 
 road to preferment, but I am mistaken if its constitution 
 will not be much altered, before your children or mine 
 are able to enjoy its abuses. Physick, generally speaking, 
 does not offer the means of subsistence ; and as to the 
 lower squad of the Law and the Church, they too often 
 
70 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, iv 
 
 annex disgrace to the characters who fill them. All this 
 proves that the sons of men of middling property ought 
 to be tradesmen,! and their girls tradesmen's wives. 
 Every individual, therefore, who loves this class of society 
 will do everything in his power to make it respectable. 
 
 ' I fear these sounds are harsh gratings to the polished 
 ear; but they are truth. Trade, properly arranged, 
 admits much leisure, and exercise gives additional zest 
 to the gratifications which leisure offers. I would wish 
 Tradesmen to be the best-informed part of the com- 
 munity. The idle, debauched, ostentatious great, should 
 look up to their supporters with respect, and come to 
 them for information. But I remember that I talk here 
 of the subject in general sa7is applying anything to you. 
 You, my dear Purkis, are about to retire, and you, I 
 doubt not, will exercise your superior abilities in some 
 way or other for the good of all. This I expect from 
 you. . . .' 
 
 Tom Poole goes on to hope that his friend will 
 nowr write the book about which they have some- 
 times talked ; after which he adds, inconsist- 
 ently enough: — 
 
 ' I wish I had that leisure, which, if you carry your 
 scheme into execution, you will hereafter enjoy.' 
 
 ^ T. Poole always uses this word in the larger sense of a man 
 engaged in trade, in whatever manner and upon whatever scale. 
 
1793-94 PLAN OF TURNING WORKMAN 71 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 ' So was he framed, and such his course of life. ' 
 
 Wordsworth, The Excursion, Book I. 
 
 That Tom Poole did actually, at some period of 
 his life, carry out his purpose of putting on the 
 dress of a working tanner, and going forth to seek 
 employment in some large yard near London, has 
 always been a well-established tradition in the 
 Poole family ; but it is well-nigh impossible to 
 determine with certainty the particular time which 
 was devoted to this adventure. The motives which 
 had prompted him to undertake it were twofold : 
 first, no doubt, he desired to extend and complete 
 his knowledge of the methods employed in the 
 tanning manufacture. His father's sarcasms had 
 rankled, and he felt that it would be a satisfaction 
 to dispose, once and for ever, of the reproach of 
 being ignorant of the practical details of his own 
 trade. But, besides this, he was sharing very 
 deeply in the social enthusiasm of a time when 
 Southey repeatedly lamented that his father had 
 
72 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, v 
 
 not brought him up to be a carpenter, and 
 Coleridge was longing to live by the labour of his 
 hands in the cultivation of the earth. Tom Poole's 
 experience of business, and his practical turn of 
 mind, alike preserved him from the delusion of 
 visionary extremes ; in him the prevailing, impulse 
 took the form of an eager sympathy with the 
 labourer and the workman, a deep sense of his own 
 duty towards them, as an educated man and an 
 employer of labour, and a determination to set 
 himself to gain a more perfect knowledge of their 
 condition, in order that he might understand their 
 wants and wishes, and how best to help them. 
 His friend Purkis was his chief, perhaps his only, 
 confidant. He must have given, as will be seen 
 by the following letter,^ many useful counsels, but 
 not unmingled with remonstrances, setting forth 
 the unusualness of his design, and the discomforts 
 and inconveniences which would be certain to 
 attend it. 
 
 ' Dear Purkis — I had postponed day after day writing 
 to you, in hopes of being able to transmit the observa- 
 tions of my Sherborne friend on tanning; but I find 
 procrastination is the general sin of mankind, and that 
 not even a Quaker, whose methodical arrangements and 
 unimpassioned line of conduct would, I conceived, have 
 exempted him from this fatal malady, steers entirely free 
 
 ^ T. Poole to S. Purkis, June 27, 
 
 '793- 
 
1793-94 DETAILS OF HIS DESIGN 73 
 
 of that death of time from which most of us have 
 constantly suffered. . . . 
 
 'I have lately been, and indeed am now, much 
 engaged in our little bark harvest,^ so that I have not at 
 this moment time to write you a long letter. ... I will 
 only tell you that I shall set out on my peregrinations 
 some time next week, therefore let me hear from you 
 immediately, that your letter may reach Stowey before I 
 leave it. My plan must be to offer myself to some one 
 in the form of a common workman. This undertaking 
 is, for me, odd, disagreeable, and romantick enough ; yet 
 I am convinced of the necessity of it, and I certainly 
 shall attempt it. I expect some curious circumstances 
 will occur, but I shall feel myself very comfortable under 
 my mask, as I design not only changing my dress for 
 the usual habit of a tanner, but my name also to Thomas 
 Adams. When I am fixed at any place, which I shall 
 first endeavour to be at Wantage, I shall write to you, 
 and inform you how I support my new character. Do, 
 in your letter, give me any hints you think will be useful 
 to me in the progress of my undertaking, and also inform 
 me of the yards which you know of in the kingdom, out 
 of London, at all famous for their manufacture ; so that, 
 in case I should not be admitted in one, I should have 
 others to apply to. 
 
 ' Your reflections on my emigration perhaps are various. 
 First, you will smile at that transition which I certainly 
 must experience ; and, in the next place, you will shake 
 your head at my having neglected acquiring what it was 
 long since my indispensable duty to acquire. But I 
 
 ' Oak underwood is, I am told, barked once in every sixteen 
 years. 
 
74 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, v 
 
 must tell you if my ideas were only to carry on the trade 
 in the manner my father has done, I need not incur the 
 risque of this adventure. My hope is to encrease his 
 trade ; and I wish to see every variety of the manu- 
 facture, that I may appropriate to myself that which I 
 conceive best. Having now a little leisure, and health 
 and strength enough, I do not think I shall spend a few 
 months unprofitably by applying them to this main 
 object. At the close of my peregrinations, when I have 
 washed my hands clean, and by due ablutions am fit to 
 stand before you, I shall call at Brentford, and then I 
 hope you will find I have not contaminated either mind 
 or manners, by intercourse with those in the society of 
 whom I necessarily must be ; but that I have only 
 stooped a little to acquire useful experience, and also to 
 obtain a greater knowledge of that class of life, of which 
 it is our duty to know most, inasmuch as that class most 
 requires our assistance and protection. God Almighty 
 bless you. With kind compliments to Mrs. Purkis, and 
 health to you, to her, and your little ones, believe me, 
 ever yours, Thos. Poole.' 
 
 ' My dear Friend — Perhaps you will be surprised at 
 seeing me date from this place,^ and you will accuse me 
 of unkindness in not having written to you before. 
 You, who, I believe, know the operations of the mind as 
 well as most, will easily conceive the reluctance I felt in 
 writing to you again from Stowey, for after a plan had 
 been laid down to you with so much formality, I could 
 not find it in my heart to tell you that it was in the 
 power of any circumstances to frustrate it. This sensation 
 
 ^ T. Poole to S. Purkis, Stowey, August 13, 1793. 
 
1793-94 UNAVOIDABLE DELAYS 7S 
 
 certainly arises from pride and disappointment ; I hope 
 they are not bad principles excited on such an occasion. 
 I told you in my last that I should leave Stowey the first 
 week in July. I had my clothes packed, and everything 
 ready. Two days before my intended departure my 
 father was seized with a bad fit of the gout; 'twas 
 impossible I could leave home. He got tolerably well ; 
 I was again about to start, when he was attacked with a 
 pleurisy, in so violent a manner that we thought he 
 would have died. Within this fortnight he has been 
 tolerably recovered, and I should have been at Wantage 
 ere this, but fortune seems determined to thwart me in 
 all my plans, for an aunt of mine, the wife of that little 
 old man you saw at Stowey, was about ten days ago, on 
 a visit to a friend in London, taken seriously ill, and is 
 since dead. My uncle has been in London with her, 
 but returns to-morrow; 'tis necessary, for prudential 
 reasons, that I remain at home a week or two to arrange 
 his affairs, as, his wife being dead, he designs altering 
 entirely his plan of living. 
 
 ' You now ask me if I have abandoned my plan. No. 
 I do intend, if fate is willing, to set off on my peregrina- 
 tions from Bristol Fair. Thank you for the instructions 
 and hints contained in your last letter. With respect to 
 my travelling name, I had some reasons for choosing 
 Adams, and should have taken care of the marks on my 
 linen ; but as you propose that of Pope, I will accept it, 
 though at first I revolted at it, for I hate the sound. 
 But on consideration that my plan savours a little of 
 deceit, I think it characteristick, and shall adopt it.^ 
 
 1 Notwithstanding much friendly intercourse with French 
 Roman Catholic priests, Tom I'oole cherished, in the abstract, the 
 
76 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, v 
 
 Mention to me in your next letter in what manner a 
 common fellow comes and asks you for work, and what 
 you say to him, and how he is received in the yard by 
 the workmen — whether he has any footing to pay, 
 etc. etc. The work in the yard I can go through 
 tolerably well. You will laugh at my caution, but I so 
 much dread the support of anything like a feigned 
 character, that I have my fears how I shall go through 
 with it. . . .' 
 
 The letter concludes with one of those 
 sorrowful, indignant references to the state of 
 Europe, and to the part taken by England in the 
 disturbed drama of continental politics, which, 
 occurring as they do in almost every letter he 
 writes, betoken clearly enough how much Tom 
 Poole's mind was pre -occupied with this subject, 
 and how strongly he felt about it. Thus, in 
 writing to another friend ^ he says, at the end of a 
 letter of thanks for civilities shown to his sister, 
 then making a round of visits in London, Isle- 
 worth, Windsor, etc : — • 
 
 ' With respect to the tanning and bark business, I 
 imagine it is pretty much at a stand, both publick and 
 private ; indeed, in our publick business I scarcely know 
 what can be done, yet I think something should — if 
 only to remind Government that though they have 
 neglected everything in their power to preserve the trade, 
 
 strongest possible prejudice against what he would have called 
 ' Popery. ' 
 
 1 T. Poole to Mr. Gutteridge, June 7, 1793. 
 
1793-94 A PAINFUL TOPIC 77 
 
 the tanners are still in being, and have grievances io 
 complain of. As for our private business, I believe 
 there never was such an alteration. Do let me know in 
 your next how your markets are for raw tanned and bark, 
 and what your opinion is concerning the future state of the 
 trade. This is not a pleasant subject to dwell on, and 
 if I turn to politicks, nothing presents itself that can give 
 satisfaction to a benevolent mind. If the French 
 conquer, will licentiousness instead of liberty prevail ? 
 If the French are conquered, Europe is enslaved. I 
 had rather run the risque of the former, than bear the 
 burden of the latter. Yet I trust in God that there is, 
 and I think there is, a medium ; I think that the French 
 will neither conquer nor be conquered, but that they 
 will have strength enough within themselves to establish 
 independently that government which the majority of 
 the people wills — for woe be to that nation whose 
 government is dictated by despots ! Poor, helpless Po- 
 land justifies this exclamation. There is no word in 
 our vocabulary sufficiently expressive of my detestation 
 of the conduct of the tyrants of Russia and Prussia to- 
 wards that unoffending nation. But these tyrants are 
 our allies ! If there be any event in the annals of this 
 country which should make an Englishman's cheeks 
 burn with shame more than another, it is that the govern- 
 ment under which he lives should continue and cherish 
 an alliance with those who had thus acted. . . .' 
 
 ' I am weary of thinking of European politicks,' he says 
 again ; ^ ' America seems the only asylum of peace and 
 
 liberty the only place where the dearest feelings of man 
 
 1 In a letter to Purkis, June 1793. 
 
78 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, v 
 
 are not insulted ; in short, the only spot where a man 
 the least humane and philosophical can live happily. 
 The event of the struggle in France is doubtful, and, 
 should it end victoriously, it cannot end yet. Besides, 
 the vice, deeply rooted in France, will prevent it ever 
 being what America is. England is a declining country, 
 ■ and now too guiltily leagued with despots to obtain an 
 object at which a Briton ought to blush. Few of its 
 inhabitants who feel as their ancestors felt, can have 
 much affection for it ; the mind shrinks with melancholy 
 detestation from contemplating the conduct of most of 
 the crowned heads in Europe, particularly that of Russia. 
 This is a painful topick ; let us change it. Since I saw 
 you I have thought much on the subject, the result you 
 shall have when we meet. I will only say now that I 
 consider the Supreme Being indulgent in allowing man 
 the felicity he enjoys, whilst he, by most of his institu- 
 tions, has counteracted the decrees of the Almighty, his 
 own happiness, and the first feelings of nature. You 
 perhaps will think me gloomy, but I am not so. Yet I 
 should be happy to hear explained some hints in your 
 last letter on the subject of religion. I hope and think 
 there is no material difference in our creeds. Adieu, 
 my dear Purkis. — Believe me, most truly yours, 
 
 'Thos. Poole.' 
 After this exposition of his sentiments we can- 
 not greatly wonder if we find that the free ex- 
 pression of Tom Poole's opinions was getting 
 almost beyond what the Stowey mind, immovably 
 fixed at the opposite point of view, could endure 
 without exasperation, even from an old neighbour's 
 
1793-94 COUSINLY CRITICISMS 79 
 
 son and a cousin of one's own, in whom the diver- 
 gence could be treated as a simple aberration of the 
 intellect, his goodness of heart being too well known 
 to admit of the slightest suspicion that he would 
 like to introduce a Reign of Terror in England. 
 Nevertheless we are not surprised to find Charlotte 
 Poole entering in her journal : ^ — 
 
 ' Tom Poole drank tea with us. I wish he would 
 cease to torment us with his democratick sentiments ; 
 but he is never happy until the subject of politicks is in- 
 troduced, and, as we all differ so much from him, we 
 wish to have no conversation about it.' 
 
 On the same occasion her brother John con- 
 fided to Ms journal that he had been ' a little ' — 
 Charlotte and her sisters had perhaps been not a 
 little — ' warm and irritated ' when Tom, after tea, 
 'produced some of his republican ideas;' and that 
 he was sorry for it afterwards, and ' did not 
 approve of this anger towards a person who, in 
 his last illness, was perhaps the cause of his life 
 being preserved.' 
 
 As Charlotte observed, Tom usually did talk 
 ' politicks ' whenever he came to Marshmill, and he 
 usually ' had all against him.' Not even when he 
 and John went out woodcock -shooting together 
 could he altogether refrain, but John notices that 
 on that November day when Tom came in to fetch 
 
 ^ January 12, 1794. 
 
8o THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, v 
 
 him to go out with him, and Nathanael, the 
 delicate younger brother who afterwards died of 
 consumption, joined them too, ' and shot his first 
 woodcock,' Tom talked politicks indeed, as usual, but 
 ' was very temperate,' and in the evening sat down 
 tranquilly to play cards, whilst John read the Life 
 of Franklin, and admired him as ' a great friend 
 of mankind in many respects,' and above all, ' use- 
 ful in showing in his own life the good effects of 
 industry and exertion,' though perhaps in some 
 respects ' not all a wise man would wish to be.' 
 
 This was on November 27, 1793. It is there- 
 fore clear that on that day Tom Poole was cer- 
 tainly in Somersetshire, so that, if he started on 
 his ' peregrinations ' any time during the summer 
 or autumn of 1793, he must have returned home 
 before the end of November. But it will have 
 been observed that his last letter to Purkis was 
 dated August i 3, and that in it he states his in- 
 tention of starting from Bristol Fair, which was 
 always held in September. This would allow 
 little more than two months for the entire enter- 
 prise, and it may be well to mention that family 
 tradition has assigned it to a later date. One 
 version of the story which has been related to me 
 as a legend handed down from an older generation, 
 supposes a dramatic disappearance on the very 
 day of his father's funeral, in July 1795 ; and, 
 
1793-94 NOT A COMMON WORKMAN 8i 
 
 in support of this view, it might be observed that 
 there is not a single entry in his letter-book be- 
 tween July 24 and September 6, 1795. But the 
 same thing is to be noticed in 1793. The letter 
 that follows the letter to Purkis of August 13, is 
 a letter to Dr. Majendie, dated December 7, and 
 in this a sudden return home on account of his 
 father having been taken ill is mentioned. ' I 
 was much mortified that I could not spend a day 
 or two at Windsor,' he says, 'but my father's in- 
 disposition was such that I was obliged to hasten 
 home as soon as possible.' 
 
 It is clear that, whether in 1793 or in 1795, 
 Poole cannot have been absent from Stowey for 
 much more than two months, and I think the 
 balance of probability is in favour of the year 
 1793. He must have recounted his experiences 
 to Purkis in a personal interview, as, indeed, he 
 had said he would, for there is no further allusion 
 to the matter in any letter that I have been able 
 to discover. The tradition runs that the finding 
 of a Latin Classic, lying on his bench during the 
 dinner hour, discovered to his employers that 
 he certainly was not a commo7i workman ; and, 
 further, that when he parted from them, he warned 
 them against an extensive system of waste and 
 pillage, by which they were the unsuspecting losers 
 of some hundreds of pounds every year, and at 
 
 VOL. I G 
 
82 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, v 
 
 the same time suggested some very simple 
 method whereby matters might easily be placed 
 upon a better footing. 
 
 Many years later, when his services in connec- 
 tion with the Parliamentary Inquiry into the 
 Working of the Poor Laws had brought him into a 
 good deal of notice, and made him acquainted 
 with many men of mark and influence, he was 
 walking one day in the streets of Bath in company 
 with Lord Lansdowne, when he recognised, in an 
 old waggoner, driving by with his team, a man 
 who had been a carter in the yard where he had 
 worked. He excused himself to Lord Lansdowne, 
 and walked across the road, holding out his hand 
 to his old acquaintance. The waggoner stared at 
 him for a moment, and then at last, seizing the 
 offered hand, he delightedly burst forth : ' Sure, 
 'tis never our Tummas ! Well, I did always think 
 thee was summat above the common.' 
 
 There is another tradition connected with this 
 episode in Tom Poole's life which cannot altogether 
 be passed by without notice. The daughters of 
 that Thomas Ward who was a youth, living with 
 Tom Poole as his articled apprentice, at the time 
 when S. T. Coleridge was in Stowey, and who 
 afterwards became his partner, and was ever his 
 attached and intimate friend, are still living in the 
 Stowey neighbourhood, and, indeed, in that very 
 
1793-94 A PUZZLING TRADITION 83 
 
 house at Marshmill which has been so often 
 mentioned as the home of the John Pooles. One 
 of these Miss Wards declared to me quite posi- 
 tively, when I saw her about two years ago, that 
 she could distinctly remember hearing from her 
 father, not once but often, that the very first time 
 S. T. Coleridge and Tom Poole came across one 
 another was in some inn, whether in London or 
 elsewhere she could not be sure, but she thought 
 in London, Coleridge in the guise of a private 
 soldier and Poole in that of a workman, when the 
 soldier was as much astonished at the workman's 
 attainments as the workman was amazed at the 
 conversation of the soldier. ' I cannot have 
 dreamt all this,' she concluded ; ' I am perfectly 
 certain that I am telling you the tale as 'twas told 
 me by my father.' 
 
 This sounds like good authority ; and yet, when 
 we come to compare dates and documents, it 
 appears to be manifestly impossible that the in- 
 cident can ever actually have happened. The 
 time that S. T. Coleridge spent as a private soldier 
 was from December 3, 1793 to April 1794, and it 
 seems undeniable that during the whole of that 
 period Tom Poole was at home at Stowey. Of 
 course, if Poole had been working at Wantage 
 whilst Coleridge was in the barracks at Reading, 
 they would not have been far apart, and a chance 
 
84 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, v 
 
 encounter might very easily have come to pass ; 
 and this, I think, is the direction in which we must 
 look for a solution of the difficulty. Perhaps 
 Coleridge and Poole may sometimes have amused 
 themselves with imaginations of what so very 
 nearly might have been, until conjectures gradually 
 shaped themselves into a real history, and became 
 a sort of household word, not easily distinguishable 
 from actual fact, especially if sometimes deliberately 
 employed for the mystification of the boy Ward 
 himself 
 
1794 FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH COLERIDGE 85 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 ' The privilege of talking and even publishing nonsense, is necessary 
 in a free state ; but the more sparingly we make use of it the better,' 
 
 S. T. Coleridge, The Friend. 
 
 The year 1794 was to be a memorable year in 
 Tom Poole's life, for it is the year of his first ac- 
 quaintance with S. T. Coleridge. It opened, in 
 Stowey, with the annual meeting of the Book 
 Society. The cousins, John and Ruscombe Poole, 
 Tom Poole himself, and ' the greater number of 
 the members of the society,' dined together at the 
 Globe Inn on New Year's Day. ' We had a 
 pleasant meeting,' writes John Poole, ' and matters 
 were, in general, conducted very amicably. About 
 eight the auction began, and I purchased Russell's 
 Viezv of the History of Modem Europe and Gillies's 
 History of Greece. Ruscombe purchased Robert- 
 son's Disquisition, etc. We stayed till ten, and 
 went to supper at Uncle Thomas's.' The ordering 
 of fresh books seems to have been left in the hands 
 
86 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vi 
 
 of Thomas Poole, who asked John to assist him in 
 the task. 
 
 ' He had drawn out a list which he showed me,' John 
 writes,^ ' but I found in it some books that appeared to 
 me very improper to be circulated among the members 
 of our society. I objected particularly to a work of 
 Volney's, which, from some extracts I had seen in the 
 Review, I knew to be strongly tinctured with infidelity. 
 I objected likewise to the introduction of any of those 
 political pamphlets which may be either the vehicles of 
 the present fashionable principles or the occasion of 
 contention and ill-will among the members. I must 
 own that T. Poole readily came in to my wishes, and 
 told me he was not acquainted with Volney's principles 
 with respect to religion, nor did he, he said, think it 
 right to circulate books of that description amongst 
 us. . . .' 
 
 John Poole was at this time living principally 
 at home, at his mother's house at Marshmill, and 
 reading for Holy Orders. From time to time 
 he paid short visits to Oxford, when he used to 
 ride to and fro on his own horse, ' Pud,' over whose 
 comfort and well-being he is very properly solici- 
 tous, noting in his diary with special praise the Inn 
 at Swindon — his first stage on the homeward route 
 —which was ' equal to any inn with respect to 
 comfort, and with respect to stable discipline, 
 superior to all he ever frequented.' The journey 
 
 ' Journal, January 4, 1794. 
 
1794 THE 'END OF HIS BEING' 87 
 
 took him about three days. Like his cousin Tom, 
 though very unlike him in most other respects, 
 John Poole was bent upon a life of usefulness. 
 To him the ' end of his being,' which a man 
 should have ' always before his eyes,' was ' to follow, 
 either directly or obliquely, at all times, the 
 melioration of his nature, the good of others, and 
 the glory of God.' He had a high ideal of what 
 a clergyman ought to be, and his whole heart 
 was set upon realising it in his own career. 
 The course of study that he had laid down for 
 himself centred in a thoughtful and painstaking 
 reading through of the whole Bible, beginning 
 with the Old Testament in the Septuagint, as 
 well as in the Authorised Version. Hebrew, 
 at this time, he did not know, though he learnt 
 it later. He accompanied this study of the 
 Scriptures themselves by the careful reading of 
 a constant succession of books bearing upon the 
 Scriptures, and of well-written sermons, amongst 
 which he particularly notes Bishop Wilson's, as 
 being 'formed on that plan which in my mind 
 best suits a country congregation.'^ John Poole 
 must have been at this period of his life a 
 tall, fair-complexioned young Oxford don, a true 
 
 1 I have heard my father say that in after years his Uncle John's 
 sermons were models of simplicity and clearness. He used to aim 
 at ' preaching in Saxon,' and carefully struck out every word of Latin 
 origin for which it was possible to find an old English equivalent. 
 
88 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vi 
 
 reformer at heart/ but after a sober and tem- 
 perate fashion, having a constitutional distrust 
 of everything spasmodic and extreme, and being 
 in manner somewhat precise and formal, and so 
 much accustomed to meetingwith deference from all 
 around him, that anything like an obstinate asser- 
 tion of opposite opinions must have given him a 
 sort of shock by mere force of unusualness. He 
 loved field-sports and country pursuits, and even 
 followed the hounds occasionally, but never after 
 he took Orders, notwithstanding that he lived in 
 the age of hunting parsons. But his favourite 
 relaxation was botany. I, who remember him 
 only in old age, remember most clearly how fond 
 he even then was of the study of flowers, how he 
 knew the exact habitat of every rare plant in the 
 neighbourhood, and showed me, then a child, the 
 place where Solomon's Seal was to be found, and 
 the one spot where the Narcissus might yet be seen 
 growing wild. In his diary the remarks on the 
 books he is reading are constantly intermixed with 
 notices of the blossoming of plants : — 
 
 ' . . . I observed caltha palustris in flower for the first 
 time this year. . . .' 
 
 ' . . . Walked round Ruxford Meadow, where I met 
 with the pistilliferous flowers of the Dog's Mercury. . . .' 
 
 ^ e.g. He writes February l8, 1794 : ' I was glad to find Mr. 
 Y. was an advocate for the abolition of the slavish duties affix'd to 
 the office of servitors, Bible-clerks, etc' 
 
1794 JOHN POOLE A BORN TEACHER 89 
 
 It is scarcely possible to turn over three pages 
 without coming to some entry of this sort, and 
 whenever he was in Oxford he was a constant 
 visitor of what was then called the ' Physic 
 Garden.' 
 
 In disposition he was very unimaginative and 
 matter of fact, but capable of deep and lasting 
 enthusiasm for the cause to which he principally 
 devoted his life — namely, education, and especially 
 the education of the poor. He was a born teacher, 
 and delighted in the exercise of his gift ; and when 
 Tom Poole asked him to read Latin with him he 
 most readily consented, indeed he had persuaded 
 his younger brother Ruscombe also — the articled 
 clerk — to become his pupil, and read Selecta e 
 veteri Testamento and Caesar's Commentaries with 
 him, finding him ' better acquainted with the 
 language than he expected.' Tom Poole had 
 already, by solitary study, made himself master of 
 the elements. What he now desired was to begin 
 something like a real acquaintance with Latin 
 literature ; and we find from John Poole's journal 
 that during the following twelvemonth there were 
 meetings at least as often as once a week, and the 
 two cousins read together Horace's Ars Poetica, 
 his first and second Satire, and his Odes ; Cicero's 
 Dream of Scipio, De Amicitia, and De Senectiite ; 
 and Virgil's ^neid. 'Tom Poole,' wrote his 
 
go THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vi 
 
 cousin Charlotte in April, 1794, 'is now, with an 
 industry and perseverance that does him honour, 
 acquiring a knowledge of Latin, and has put him- 
 self under my brother John's tuition, so that we 
 shall often have the pleasure of seeing him. . . .' 
 For they were, after all, very fond of poor Tom, 
 notwithstanding his unaccountable opinions, in 
 relation to which their view, being strongly modi- 
 fied by natural regard and great personal respect 
 for their own kinsman, was certainly milder and 
 more tolerant than that of the neighbourhood 
 generally, as will be seen by a letter to Mr. Purkis, 
 dated August 23, 1794, which is also interesting 
 for the account of Tom Poole's studies with which 
 it opens : — 
 
 ' My dear Purkis — I wrote a letter to you some time 
 ago, which I hope you received, and I must acknowledge 
 that I expected an answer ere now ; not that I had any 
 right so to do, but I rather built on your former good- 
 ness in similar circumstances. Besides, I know when 
 you have leisure you feel as much pleasure in writing as 
 in reading, which is not at present the case with me ; 
 for in truth I should scarcely take a pen in hand, were 
 I not stimulated either by necessity in matters of 
 business, or, when I write to my friends, by the regard 
 I bear them. You, I can say from experience, do not 
 want this latter stimulus, but in you it is not counteracted 
 by any other affection, but rather assisted by the love, 
 which is so natural, of exercising that faculty in which 
 
1794 READING FRENCH AND LATIN 91 
 
 we excel. Your love of writing, and my aversion to it, 
 may be accounted for by the particular circumstances of 
 our reading. You seldom read any language for pleasure 
 except the English ; and this you read with such rapidity 
 that, in a very small portion of your leisure period of the 
 day, the mind collects as much as it can conveniently 
 bear off. You naturally fill up the remaining portion, 
 or, at least, feel no aversion so to do, with writing. 
 
 ' I, wishing to be perfectly familiar with French, and to 
 increase my knowledge of Latin, seldom read a book out 
 of one or the other of those languages ; and, indeed, I 
 find nothing on those subjects in which I most delight 
 so well written as in Latin. But then to read these 
 languages, particularly the latter, costs me much 
 more time, and I find I can, without the consciousness 
 of having read too much on account of the matter of 
 fact contained in what I read, read four, five, or six 
 hours in the day ; but this I am sure I could not do 
 with any profit in the English language. This considera- 
 tion consoles me for the time I have spent in acquiring 
 some knowledge of these languages, for perhaps in the 
 very act of acquiring a language, if proper books be 
 chosen, the mind acquires as much information as it can 
 well digest, and after having attended three or four 
 hours, rises, as it were, from a banquet, rather with a 
 satisfied than with a satiated appetite. Thus then I 
 conclude : — we both wish to get a knowledge of the 
 various regions of literature ; you choose a vehicle which 
 carries you with rapidity through that part you wish to 
 contemplate, and leaves you much leisure at the end of 
 every post — I choose one which enables me to view the 
 country with more attention, and attains prospects 
 
92 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vi 
 
 which yours can only show you at a distance. But 
 then mine requires my whole time. As this is not your 
 case, is there anything unreasonable in a friend's request- 
 ing you to fill up a small part of this leisure in writing 
 oftener to him, than he, who has Uttle or no leisure, 
 writes to you ? But you will justly remark this cannot 
 be the case of him who is writing, for the present letter, 
 beyond most others, seems the effort of a mind that 
 knows not how to employ itself I write corrected. 
 Well, then, my dear friend, a curious circumstance, 
 added to the pleasure I always feel in writing to you, 
 has perhaps now induced me to write. 
 
 ' Last Thursday, at Bridgwater, a very particular 
 friend of mine, Robert Anstice, whom I have often 
 mentioned to you, desired me to call on him, as he much 
 wished to talk with me on a subject of consequence. I 
 called. He began by saying he hardly knew how to 
 begin the subject he wished to speak on, but proceeded 
 to say that a person whose sources of information were 
 the very best had told him that I was considered by 
 Government as the most dangerous person in the county 
 of Somerset, and, as it was well known that this part of 
 the country was disaffected, the whole mischief was, by 
 Government, attributed to me. I laughed — thinking he 
 meant to hum me ; he assured me he was serious. He 
 said it was not only on account of my unusual violence 
 in speaking, but also on account of what I had written. 
 I said I had never written a word that had been 
 published. — Never anything in letters? said he. 
 Certainly I had mentioned politicks in letters, but I 
 believe all the world might see what I had written. He 
 said he did not know how it happened, but certainly such 
 
1794 A PETIT TANNER OF STOWEY 93 
 
 was the idea of Government, and he thought it probable 
 that they had intercepted some of my letters and opened 
 them. He concluded by exhorting me by the regard I 
 had for myself, for my family, and for my friends, to 
 be in future particularly cautious both in speaking and 
 writing. 
 
 ' I was differently affected during this recital. At first 
 it flattered the vanity of a petit tanner of Stowey to be 
 thought of consequence by the Government of an empire 
 which holds half the crowned heads of Europe as 
 pensioners. Next, I felt the ridiculous falsity of the 
 story, and could not help laughing. But I assure you, 
 my dear Purkis, the last sensation I experienced, and 
 which still remains with me, was a melancholy one. It 
 was a recollection of what we were, and what we now 
 are. It was a recollection of the boast an Englishman 
 was wont to make that he could think, speak, and write 
 whatever he thought proper, provided he violated no 
 law, nor injured any individual. But now an absolute 
 controul exists, not indeed over the imperceptible 
 operations of the mind, for those no power of man can 
 controul ; but, what is the same thing, over the effects of 
 those operations, and if among those effects that of 
 speaking is to be checked, the soul is as much enslaved 
 as the body in the cell of a Bastile. The man who once 
 feels, nay, fancies, this, is a slave. It shows as if the 
 suspicious secret Government of an Italian Republic had 
 replaced the open, candid Government of the English 
 laws. 
 
 ' I can hardly imagine, according to his suspicions, that 
 anything so unaccountably ridiculous has happened as 
 that a letter of mine has been opened ; if any has in 
 
94 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vi 
 
 which politicks were found, it must have been one to you, 
 for you are almost my only correspondent, and I am 
 sure the only one to whom I talk of politicks. 
 
 ' With respect to my future conduct : as I have 
 done no more than every man ought to do, I shall con- 
 tinue to act as before. Indeed, I have been un- 
 commonly cautious. I have made a rule never to begin 
 the subject of politicks with any one. If the topick be 
 started, I give my opinion if I choose it, and ever will, 
 on every subject, as long as I live. I would fight to the 
 last drop for this privilege, and if the globe were to fall 
 under the dominion of tyranny, would cheerfully die ^ 
 defending the last six feet of ground by two, which 
 should grow green by my ashes, where this principle 
 should be maintained. Is this sedition ? I glory in it. 
 I know what the English constitution is, and the measure 
 of happiness it professes to give to each individual. 
 Shall I be a passive instrument in lessening my own 
 happiness, and a guilty one in abridging that of my 
 posterity ? A man's soul must be all Earth who would 
 subscribe to such notions. With respect to encreasing 
 the advantages of our political state I am not prepared to 
 say this is the proper time. All I ask, at any time, is a 
 reform in our House of Commons ; and on this the 
 People are Fools if they don't insist, immediately after 
 the termination of the war, should we, as a nation, 
 survive it. Our constitution, thus reformed, is the only 
 
 ' The rather heroic phrases that Tom Poole was wont to use 
 exposed him to a certain amount of ridicule. Once, when he 
 wound up an excited period by declaring that ' for these opinions he 
 would willingly go to the tower.' — 'The tower, indeed ! ' said Mr. 
 Anstice — ' I should think Ilchester Gaol would do for you.' 
 
1794 COLERIDGE'S FIRST VISIT TO STOWEY 95 
 
 one suitable to our state of society. But enough. God 
 bless you, my dear friend. Remember me kindly to 
 Mrs. Purkis and to Mary.i — Yours most truly, 
 
 'T. P. 
 ' P.S. — What think you of the death of Robespierre ? ' 
 
 The question in the postscript is one of the 
 links which enable us to fix to a day the exact 
 date of Coleridge's first visit to Stowey. We find 
 in a letter, dated September 22, 1794, that Tom 
 Poole had at that time seen Coleridge, whom he calls 
 
 ' Another curious instance of the intolerance of the time is to be 
 found in John Poole's journal, Maj'ch 19, 1794. He has been 
 reading ' part of Scipio's Dream' with T. Poole, who ' stay'd 
 supper, and during it he shew'd us a letter from Mr. Purkis, con- 
 taining a. copy of the Article Tanning, which he has written for a 
 new Encyclopsedia. He mentions in his letter his having receiv'd a 
 rather unpleasant answer from Sir Joseph Banks, to whom he had 
 written for leave to consult his libraiy for books treating of the 
 article above mentioned. Sir Joseph seemed to suspect Mr. P.'s 
 political principles, which arose probably from his having withdrawn 
 his name from an " Association " in his neighbourhood, inconsequence 
 of their having adopted, as he thought, violent ' ' resolutions. " Upon 
 Mr. P. making a disavowal of any principles inimical to the present 
 constitution. Sir Joseph sent a very candid and liberal answer, and 
 Mr. P. in consequence consulted his library, where he met with every 
 convenience and accommodation worthy of the President of the 
 Royal Academy' (surely « slip of the pen for Institution). The 
 article on Tanning is again alluded to tmMay 10, 1794 : — ' T. Poole 
 called before breakfast and bro't with him a paper, containing an 
 account of the Art of Tanning, etc., written by Mr. Purkis, and de- 
 signed for the Encyclopadia Britannica. T. P. has subjoined his 
 observations on it. He read it to me, and desired my remarks on 
 the language, which I corrected in one or two instances. He 
 breakfasted with us, and we afterwards read the first part of 
 Cicero's De Amicitia.' 
 
96 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vi 
 
 ' Coldridge,' and Southey, once only, and that for 
 but a few hours. In this letter, which is addressed 
 to a gentleman ^ who had asked for information 
 respecting the Pantisocratic Scheme, he gives his 
 first impressions of both ; and it will be observed 
 that, even in that one interview, he has not failed 
 to recognise the extraordinary abilities of Cole- 
 ridge, as well as the entirely different calibre of 
 his otherwise highly cultivated and very clever 
 young companion. He writes as follows : — 
 
 ' Dear Sir — I received your obliging letter a day or 
 two ago, and will with pleasure give you all the informa- 
 tion I can respecting the emigration to America to which 
 you allude. But first, perhaps, you would like to have 
 some idea of the character of the projectors of the 
 scheme. Out of eight whom they informed me were 
 engaged, I have seen but two, and only spent part of 
 one day with them ; their names are Coldridge and 
 Southey. 
 
 ' Coldridge, whom I consider the Principal in the 
 undertaking, and of whom I had heard much before I 
 saw him, is about five and twenty, belongs to the 
 University of Cambridge, possesses splendid abilities — 
 he is, I understand, a shining scholar, gained the prize 
 for the Greek verses the first or second year he entered 
 the University, and is now engaged in publishing a 
 selection of the best modern Latin poems with a poetical 
 translation. He speaks with much elegance and energy, 
 and with uncommon facility, but he, as it generally 
 
 1 Mr. Haskins. 
 
1794 THE PANTISOCRATIC SCHEME 97 
 
 happens to men of his class, feels the justice of Pro- 
 vidence in the want of those inferiour abilities which 
 are necessary to the rational discharge of the common 
 duties of life. His aberrations from prudence, to use 
 his own expression, have been great ; but he now 
 promises to be as sober and rational as his most sober 
 friends could wish. In religion he is a Unitarian, if not 
 a Deist; in politicks a Democrat, to the utmost extent 
 of the word. 
 
 ' Southey, who was with him, is of the University of 
 Oxford, a younger man, without the splendid abilities of 
 Coldridge, though possessing much information, particu- 
 larly metaphysical, and is more violent in his principles 
 than even Coldridge himself. In Religion, shocking to 
 say in a mere Boy as he is, I fear he wavers between 
 Deism and Atheism. 
 
 ' Thus much for the characters of two of the Emigra- 
 tors. Their plan is as follows : — 
 
 'Twelve gentlemen of good education and liberal 
 principles are to embark with twelve ladies in April 
 next. Previous to their leaving this country they are 
 to have as much intercourse as possible, in order to 
 ascertain each other's dispositions, and firmly to settle 
 every regulation for the government of their future 
 conduct. Their opinion was that they should fix them- 
 selves at — -I do not recollect the place, but somewhere 
 in a delightful part of the new back settlements ; that 
 each man should labour two or three hours in a day, the 
 produce of which labour would, they imagine, be more 
 than sufficient to support the colony. As Adam Smith 
 observes that there is not above one productive man in 
 twenty, they argue that if each laboured the twentieth 
 
 VOL. I H 
 
98 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vi 
 
 part of time, it would produce enough to satisfy their 
 wants. The produce of their industry is to be laid up 
 in common for the use of all; and a good library of 
 books is to be collected, and their leisure hours to be 
 spent in study, liberal discussions, and the education of 
 their children. A system for the education of their 
 children is laid down, for which, if this plan at all suits 
 you, I must refer you to the authors of it. The regula- 
 tions relating to the females strike them as the most 
 difficult ; whether the marriage contract shall be dis- 
 solved if agreeable to one or both parties, and many 
 other circumstances, are not yet determined. The 
 employments of the women are to be the care of infant 
 children, and other occupations suited to their strength ; 
 at the same time the greatest attention is to be paid to 
 the cultivation of their minds. Every one is to enjoy his 
 own religious and political opinions, provided they do 
 not encroach on the rules previously made, which rules, 
 it is unnecessary to add, must in some measure be 
 regulated by the laws of the state which includes the 
 district in which they settle. They calculate that each 
 gentleman providing £12^ will be sufficient to carry 
 the scheme into execution. Finally, every individual is at 
 liberty, whenever he pleases, to withdraw from the society. 
 ' These are the outlines of their plan, and such are 
 their ideas. Could they realise them they would, indeed, 
 realise the age of reason; but, however perfectible 
 human nature may be, I fear it is not yet perfect enough 
 to exist long under the regulations of such a system, 
 particularly when the Executors of the plan are taken 
 from a society in a high degree civilised and corrupted. 
 America is certainly a desirable country, so desirable in 
 
1794 THE DEATH OF ROBESPIERRE 99 
 
 my eye that, were it not for some insuperable reasons, I 
 would certainly settle there. At some future period I 
 perhaps may. But I think a man would do well first to 
 see the country and his future hopes, before he removes 
 his connections or any large portion of his property 
 there. I could live, I think, in America, much to my 
 satisfaction and credit, without joining in such a scheme 
 as I have been describing, though I should like well to 
 accompany them, and see what progress they make. . . . 
 I. shall be happy to hear from you soon, and to learn your 
 opinion of this scheme. Should you wish for further 
 information, I will get you Coldridge's address, and pave 
 the way for your writing to him. . . .' ^ 
 
 Only a month or two before this letter was 
 written Coleridge had come to Bristol for the first 
 time to join Southey, Lovell, Burnett, and the 
 other young enthusiasts who were bent upon 
 devoting themselves to the carrying out of the 
 dazzling, but impracticable scheme to which 
 Coleridge had given the name of Pantisocracy or 
 Asphetism. Nothing is easier now, than to see 
 that the entire plan was the baseless fabric of a 
 vision ; but it was different then, to those eager 
 young hearts spell-bound by Coleridge's eloquence, 
 and to Coleridge himself, fairly intoxicated with 
 hope, and full of faith in the impossible. Most 
 likely it was as the apostles of Pantisocracy, and 
 
 1 It may be noted that this is the most detailed account we have 
 of the Pantisocratic Scheme. 
 
100 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vi 
 
 in search of recruits and converts, that he and 
 Southey first made their appearance in Stowey, 
 and spent that half day with Tom Poole, which 
 we clearly understand from the foregoing letter to 
 have been the only occasion upon which Tom Poole 
 had seen either Coleridge or Southey before Sep- 
 tember 23, 1794. But there is a story connected 
 with their names, and with this period, that carries 
 us much closer to the actual day, which we perceive 
 must have been coincident with the very time 
 when the news of the death of Robespierre had 
 but just reached Stowey, and when, therefore, 
 every one was talking about it. John Poole, the 
 story begins, had brought the tidings of the death 
 of Robespierre home with him from Oxford ; but 
 this is manifestly impossible, as we find by his 
 journal that he arrived at Marshmill from Oxford 
 on July 1 8, and Robespierre did not die till 
 July 28. However, it is, of course, easily to be 
 supposed that he may have brought the intelligence 
 home from Bridgwater or Taunton. On his way, 
 according to one tradition, he stopped at his uncle's 
 house in Nether Stowey to tell his news ; according 
 to another it was at Marshmill itself that he found 
 his Cousin Tom, in company with two young men, 
 introduced to him by the names of Coleridge and 
 Southey, who not only did not show the feelings 
 any right-thinking people might have been expected 
 
1794 JOHN POOLE'S JOURNAL loi 
 
 to manifest at such a piece of intelligence, but one 
 of them — ^Southey — actually laid his head down 
 upon his arms and exclaimed, ' I had rather have 
 heard of the death of my own father.' 
 
 So runs the tale as it has been told to me, 
 more often, I think, than any other story that I 
 have ever heard of Coleridge's life at Stowey ; 
 indeed my own father and other members of the 
 family of the same standing, have repeatedly 
 assured me that they have themselves heard it related 
 by Mr. John Poole himself. And yet all who re- 
 member how little sympathy either Coleridge or 
 Southey had with the Jacobins, how deeply they 
 felt the 'murder of Brissot,'i how simply the 
 dramatic fragment on the death of Robespierre 
 relates, but does not lament, his overthrow, must 
 feel that there is something here that requires 
 explanation. Of John Poole's general character 
 some idea will have been formed from the account 
 given in the beginning of this chapter. It may be 
 added that he was a person of the most punctilious 
 veracity, liable, no doubt, to be warped by prejudice, 
 but habitually free from exaggeration, and quite 
 incapable of inventing a sensational story either for 
 fun, or from any other motive. Therefore, making 
 whatever allowance we may for the effect of time 
 in altering the features, and confusing the details, 
 
 1 Southey's Letters. See also the Watchman on Brissot, p. 308. 
 
102 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vi 
 
 of whatever may have been the original history, 
 we cannot escape the conclusion that we have here 
 the genuine impression of some real incident that 
 actually did happen during that short first visit of 
 Coleridge and Southey to Stowey ; and, if so, it is 
 also clear that that visit must have taken place at 
 some time in the month of August. 
 
 So far I had arrived by independent reasoning 
 when John Poole's journals for the year 1793- 
 1798 came into my hands, and the interest with 
 which I opened them, and found the year 1794, 
 may easily be imagined. My hopes that there 
 would be something that would throw light upon 
 the matter amongst the entries for the month of 
 August were not disappointed. In that particular 
 month it so happened that John Poole was keeping 
 his journal in Latin, a practice which certainly had 
 the advantage of preventing most people from 
 reading his diary, if he chanced to leave it lying 
 about, but which otherwise, besides being trouble- 
 some to posterity (but, happily, he did not think 
 of posterity, or he might have burnt his journal), 
 has a certain tendency to the grotesque, so oddly 
 do the names and arrangements of modern English 
 life figure in this -classical disguise. Turning 
 slowly over the pages, and somewhat laboriously 
 spelling through the Latin, very illegible sometimes, 
 in the faint, brown ink, and with the quaint, un- 
 
1794 ISTI DUO IGNOTI 103 
 
 expected contractions, we presently come to the 
 very thing we are looking for, which I give here, 
 as follows : — 
 
 ' 18™. Surge hora 2^^ Post jentaculum ad domum 
 D"i Lewis eo ; at Vitam Johnsonianam Boswelli ab eo 
 mutuam accipio. Hora fere 7™^ Thos. Poole, et frater 
 Richardus, Henricus Poole, et duo juvenes ei familiares 
 hue veniunt. Duo isti ignoti, intelligo, fe Cantabrigia 
 exierant ; et totam fere VValliam peragraverant. Unus 
 Oxoniensis Alumnus ; alter Cantabrigiensis. Uterque 
 verb rabie Democratica, quoad Politiam; et Infidelis 
 quoad Religionem spectat, turpiter fervet. Ego maxime 
 indignor. Tandem verb, hora fere 8^4, omnes discedunt. 
 Post prandium ego me ad Vitam Johnsonianam confero. 
 Hora ferme i™^ D^s Reekes Stoweia venit ; multum 
 indignatur propter malitiam odiosam et detestandam 
 juvenum istorum, quibus, apud Avunculi mei Thomae 
 occurrerat. lUi plus videntur cogitationes suas, quam 
 apud nos, illic indicasse. Sed de talibus satis. . . .' j 
 
 Which may be thus translated : — 
 
 ' Rise about eight. After breakfast go to Mr. Lewis's 
 and get the loan of Boswell's Life of Johnson from him. 
 About one o'clock, Thomas Poole and his brother Richard, 
 Henry Poole, and two young men, friends of his, come 
 in. These two strangers, I understand, had left Cam- 
 bridge, and had walked nearly all through Wales. One 
 is an undergraduate of Oxford, the other of Cambridge. 
 Each of them was shamefully hot with Democratic rage- 
 as regards politics, and both Infidel as to religion. I 
 was extremely indignant. At last, however, about two 
 
I04 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vi 
 
 o'clock, they all go away. After dinner I betake myself 
 to the Life of Johnson. About seven o'clock Mr. Reekes 
 comes from Stowey ; he is very indignant over the odious 
 and detestable ill-feeling of those two young men, whom 
 he had met at my Uncle Thomas's. They seem to have 
 shown their sentiments more plainly there than with us. 
 But enough of such matters. . . .' 
 
 ' Ego maxime indignor ! ' Here, no doubt, we 
 have the germ of the whole history, though John 
 Poole unluckily omits to record the particular 
 nature of the utterances which so strongly moved 
 him to wrath. ' Sed de talibus satis', he contemptu- 
 ously breaks off, without the faintest presentiment 
 of the very different point of view from which 
 another generation would regard the incident. 
 But putting this and that together, it is easy to 
 understand that the death of Robespierre was 
 certain to be mentioned as an awful event and 
 the leading topic of the day, and that the talk of 
 isti duo ignoti was wild enough to be the origin of 
 the most extravagant rumours, as it became em- 
 bedded in fragments in the gossip of a scandalised 
 neighbourhood ; where it was soon 'well known' that 
 one of Tom Poole's literary friends ^ — was it the 
 young man Coldridge, or the young man Southey ? 
 they were not quite sure ; but it was certainly one of 
 
 1 Related to me by Miss Ward in perfect good faith. She herself 
 had always heard it, and it had never occurred to her to entertain 
 any doubts as to the correctness of the tradition. 
 
1794 SHOCKING A NEIGHBOURHOOD 105 
 
 them — had positively said that Robespierre was a 
 ministering angel of mercy, sent to slay thousands 
 that he might save millions. Let us be accurate. 
 It was not positively certain whether the words 
 were hundreds and thousands, or thousands and 
 millions ; but that Robespierre had been called a 
 ' ministering angel of mercy ' everybody knew for 
 a fact. 
 
 This is quite simple ; but what is really per- 
 plexing is to imagine how Coleridge, or even 
 Southey, who, according to Tom Poole, was, on 
 that occasion, ' the most extreme ' of the two, could 
 have said anything so apparently opposite to their 
 own convictions. I believe the solution is to be 
 found in the mischievous enjoyment that they both 
 experienced in the state of superlative indignation 
 into which they provoked John Poole — especially 
 Southey. Let us remember that he was an Oxford 
 undergraduate, and a very insubordinate one, who 
 had already amused himself by making remarks 
 on the ' waste of wigs and want of wits ' to be 
 observed amongst the university authorities ; the 
 very sight of John Poole, serious and scholarly, 
 with powdered locks, and precise attire, and a cer- 
 tain air of expecting every one to mean what he 
 says, and to be reasonable, may have been quite 
 enough to make him set himself, with that peculiar 
 kind of wrongheadedness which is a not uncommon 
 
io6 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vi- 
 
 characteristic of very early manhood, to parade 
 outrageous opinions, and to say whatever came 
 into his head as most Hkely to shock a very proper 
 young Don's sense of fitness.^ 
 
 Usually large allowances are made for this sort 
 of nonsense ; but the temper of the times was 
 grave, the horror which the deeds of the Jacobins 
 had excited was too recent and too genuine to be 
 trifled with ; and nobody except Tom Poole made 
 any allowance at all. Shocking people is, as 
 every one knows, an amusement which gathers zest 
 as it succeeds, and we are not surprised to learn 
 that the evening visitors at Marshmill, who had 
 encountered those strangers later in the day, 
 reported conversation even more detestable than 
 that which had horrified John Poole. It really 
 seems as if they had been trying their very best 
 to scandalise the entire neighbourhood. 
 
 And if so, they certainly succeeded ; and the 
 incident was not without its consequences. It 
 determined the direction of popular opinion, and 
 certainly had its share, perhaps no very small one, 
 in producing that attitude of incurable suspicion 
 and mistrust which was adopted towards Coleridge 
 and Wordsworth when, a little later, they attempted 
 
 ' Compare S. T. C.'s letter to Sir George and Lady Beaumont 
 (Coleortoti Memorials, i. 12) on the subject of Emmett's death, and 
 of the extravagance of his own language and opinions when he, too, 
 was but twenty-four. The passage is too long to quote. 
 
1794 POOLE'S LITERARY FRIENDS 107 
 
 to make their home under the shadow of the 
 Quantocks. For the popular mind cannot take 
 the trouble to be pedantically accurate. What 
 did the name matter? Wordsworth, too, was 
 certainly ' one of Tom Poole's literary friends.' 
 
io8 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vii 
 
 •CHAPTER VII 
 
 '. . . Turning 
 The servile dust of opportunity 
 To gold. . . .' 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 During the whole of the autumn of 1794 Tom 
 Poole was very much out of health — a fact never 
 mentioned in his own letters, but clearly traceable 
 by frequent references in his Cousin John's diary. 
 It seems to have been a long, lingering, nervous 
 illness, which sometimes confined him to his room 
 for days at a time. In October he went to his 
 brother's at Sherborne for change of air, and, call- 
 ing at Marshmill on his return, he ' said he was 
 better ; ' but a very few days later, on November 
 4, he is ' very ill ' again, and, on November 
 27, we find John Poole begging him to seek 
 further advice : ' I persuaded him to go and con- 
 sult Dr. Dunning on his long illness, which I 
 believe he did.' 
 
 But, notwithstanding this illness, Tom Poole 
 
1794-95 DESPONDENCY RESISTED 109 
 
 seems to have kept up all his usual activities ; 
 except that, after the letter to Mr. Haskins on 
 September 23, there is no other letter entered 
 in his Copying-book till the following January. 
 On October 9, when John Poole came to Nether 
 Stowey to read Virgil with him, he showed him 
 the ' new anti-friction steam rollers ' invented by 
 his American friend, Mr. Garnett, which he had 
 introduced into his father's yard ; and in January 
 1795 we find him making his Cousin Charlotte 
 even more angry than usual by what John Poole 
 calls ' noves ejus sententias! 
 
 ' Tom Poole would force politicks into notice,' she 
 complains, ' and was, in consequence, very disagreeable. 
 Since he has adopted these sentiments his mind seems 
 to be enveloped in gloom, and though he preaches 
 liberty, his conduct often contradicts his precepts.' 
 
 It is curious to observe that even here, as in 
 the writings of Burke and of other contemporaries, 
 the word sentiments is almost always employed 
 where, in the present day, we should say views or 
 opinions. This is a subtle instance of the far- 
 reaching influence of the writings of that school of 
 French philosophers of whom Rousseau is the 
 chief example, in producing a habit of mind in 
 which feeling — the subjective effect upon the 
 individual — is the ultimate test of every principle, 
 whether political, moral, or religious. 
 
no THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vii 
 
 It may be that there was a tinge of personal 
 feeling in the ' gloom ' that Charlotte Poole 
 noticed in her cousin, at a time when the visits of 
 a college friend of John Poole's and his courtship 
 of Penelope/ must have been gradually making 
 the knowledge that she would never return the 
 affection with which he himself regarded her, more 
 and more unmistakable ; but it is much more 
 certain that the disappointment of his enthusi- 
 astic hopes, by the dark and terrible turn that 
 events had taken in France, and, in general, the 
 lowering aspect of the political horizon, weighed 
 heavily upon his spirits, and that a strain of de- 
 spondency is traceable in almost every letter he 
 wrote to any intimate friend- A painful impatience 
 of his surroundings, a subdued but continual long- 
 ing to get away, to put himself, by some means or 
 other, into a new framework, seems to have been 
 the almost habitual state of his mind at this 
 particular period, and contrasts remarkably with 
 the steady contentment with his own place in life, 
 the singular absence of any craving after personal 
 distinction, and the strong determination to make 
 the best of his actual position and opportunities, 
 which were his most noticeable characteristics in 
 after years. But these were dreary days. His 
 
 ' They became engaged for a short time, but the engagement was 
 broken ofT. 
 
1794-95 THE NEW BOOK- ROOM iii 
 
 home life was marred by the increasing irritability 
 of his father's temper, and by the self-reproach he 
 experienced when he allowed himself to be drawn 
 into contentions with him ; and though he was 
 more constantly than ever at Marshmill, the atmo- 
 sphere of contradiction and disapproval that he 
 found there, can scarcely have had a soothing 
 effect on his ruffled spirits.^ The one resource 
 and refuge that never disappointed him was his 
 love of books ; even when he was really ill he 
 tried to go on ^ with his Latin reading, and early 
 in 1795 he was able to show his Cousin John his 
 ' new book-room,' where he was already pleasing 
 himself with the arrangement of the small begin- 
 nings of that fine collection of books which, twelve 
 years later, was noticed with so much admiration 
 by Mr. De Quincey. The day was Shrove Tuesday, 
 and, as the two cousins went out for a turn, it is 
 
 ^ In connection with the disapproval Tom Poole excited when he 
 cut his hair short and ceased to wear powder, it is amusing to meet 
 with an entry in Charlotte Poole's journal, March 3, 1795, alluding 
 to the operation of that Hair Powder Tax, which was the subject ot 
 one of S. T. Coleridge's early lectures, and which was shortly to 
 shake the powder out of the hair of even the firmest supporters of 
 ' the present establishment in church and state. ' ' We walked to 
 Stowey,' she says, ' and found all the girls had taken the powder 
 out of their hair, to see if they could avoid the tax without any dimi- 
 nution of their beauty ; but they were so little pleased with themselves 
 they resolved to continue to wear it.' 
 
 2 John Poole'sjournal : ' September 10. Again to see T. P. Not 
 much better, but read a little Cicero together. September 13. T. 
 P. recovering, read De -Senectuie. ' 
 
112 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vii 
 
 characteristic of the times that they ' happened to 
 meet some men carrying a hen up the street with 
 the intention of squalling^ at her.' It was also 
 characteristic of Tom Poole that he immediately 
 put a stop to the brutal amusement ' by purchasing 
 the hen.' Then returning to the house, they ' read 
 Cicero together.' His love for French literature, 
 already mentioned in his letter to Purkis, may be 
 further illustrated by the following extract, which 
 is part of a letter addressed to a neighbouring 
 clergyman, together with a parcel of ' Book Society 
 books.' 
 
 ' As for Brissot's book, I have read it in French ; the 
 translation has as much of the spirit and beauty of the 
 original as a translation can possess, and as you, with 
 Mrs. Clark, are fond of French literature, you will, I trust, 
 be pleased with it, not only on account of its being 
 French, but more particularly as every page is the picture 
 of a benevolent heart. If you think him on some 
 occasions too enthusiastick in the cause of liberty, you 
 must recollect what he suffered under despotism. Brissot 
 was, by the caprice of a French minister, doomed to 
 languish some years in the cells of the Bastile. 'Twas 
 there his indignant soul, brooding over its sufferings, 
 conceived and enlarged those ideas which you will 
 see depicted in his book, and which were realised by his 
 
 1 Squalling or Squailing. Usually the ' fat hen ' was ' thrashed,' 
 and it was the wretched cock that was set up as a mark for 
 throwing sticks at on Shrove Tuesday. This cruel custom is very 
 ancient. See Brande's Popular Antiquities. 
 
1794-95 A FRENCH REFUGEE PRIEST 113 
 
 conduct during his subsequent life. Thus it is that 
 despotism makes patriots, and patriots destroy despotism. 
 Happy had it been for France had all her leaders been 
 like Brissot.i . . .' 
 
 Having experienced the comfort arid advantage 
 of studying Latin under a good tutor, Tom Poole 
 naturally turned his mind to the obtaining of 
 similar assistance in French. Already, in Sep- 
 tember 1794, he had by some means made the 
 acquaintance of a French ecclesiastic, e patria sua 
 pulsis, whom John found sitting with him one day 
 when he walked into Stowey post prandiiini — and 
 who gave them a short account of the dangers that 
 had attended his escape. He was a priest from 
 Brittany, and seems to have found a refuge at a 
 religious house belonging to his own communion, 
 which then, as now, existed at Cannington, a 
 
 ' Brissot's temperament was more congenial and, therefore, more 
 comprehensible, to English people than that of other French patriots. 
 Clarkson visiting Paris found him 'a man of plain and modest 
 appearance. His habits, contrary to those of his countrymen in 
 general, were domestic. In his own family he set an amiable 
 example as a husband and father ; on all occasions he was a faithful 
 friend. He was particularly watchful over his private conduct. 
 From the simplicity of his appearance and the severity of his morals 
 he was called the Quaker in all the circles I frequented. He was 
 a man of deep feeling. He was charitable to the poor as far as a 
 slender income permitted, but his benevolence went beyond the usual 
 bounds. He was no patriot in the ordinary acceptance of the word, 
 for he took the habitable world as his country, and wished to 
 consider every foreigner as his brother.' — Life of Clarkson, I. 
 chap. ii. 
 
 VOL. I I 
 
114 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vii 
 
 village about four miles from Bridgwater, where the 
 old English Roman Catholic family of Clifford has 
 property, and although his name is not mentioned, 
 I think he must be identical with the Mr. Pains 
 with whom we shall find Tom Poole in correspond- 
 ence early in the following year. But there was 
 also a M. Perceval, another French refugee, whom 
 he came across at Sherborne, and whom he invited 
 to spend the Christmas vacation with him, when 
 his 'foreign manners, so different from ours,' were 
 a source of some amusement to the Marshmill 
 sisters, of whom Charlotte took lessons from him. 
 The two following letters are addressed to Mr. 
 Pains : — 
 
 ' My dear Sir,-' — Knowing that every moment of your 
 time, at least during the hours when I am in Bridgwater, 
 is particularly engaged, I have refrained from calling on 
 you. When we last saw each other you kindly ofifered to 
 correct any little exercise, which, from time to time, I 
 may send you. You see I have here taken you at your 
 word, and send you the beginning of a translation which 
 I have attempted of Cicero's Dream of Scipio. You will 
 perhaps be surprised at the choice I have made, but I 
 was led to it both for profit and pleasure ; profit, because 
 I wished to keep and to perfect the knowledge which I 
 have of Latin, even while learning French ; pleasure, 
 because there is no little piece to be found, the contem- 
 plation of which, and the dwelling upon every period and 
 
 ' T. Poole to Mr. Pains, February 1795. 
 
1794-95 HIS STUDIES CONTINUED 115 
 
 every word of which, could give me more sincere 
 delight. . . . Many objections you may justly make to 
 my translating Latin into French. You will say that by 
 writing French through the Latin idiom, which, perhaps, 
 is nearer the French than the English, I shall be at a loss 
 to express my ideas — conceived, of course, in English — in 
 the French language. This would be a consideration for 
 him who is familiarly acquainted with the Latin tongue, 
 but for myself, I believe the sense of most passages is 
 abstracted into English in my mind before I attempt 
 rendering it in French. You will say it may be Latinised 
 English. Probably so. These objections I state for your 
 advice, by which I shall be governed. If you approve 
 the plan I have attempted, I will go through with the 
 little piece in hand, and afterwards any others which you 
 may recommend. I have left a margin for corrections 
 and remarks. If you see I have mistaken the sense of 
 my author, correct it ; for I have had few opportunities 
 of assistance in difficulties, in any literary pursuit. Thus 
 you see I trespass on your goodness and expose my 
 inability. But — 
 
 " Cur nescire pudens fravi quam discere malo ? " 
 When shall I see you at Stowey ? I will send a horse 
 when you can spare a day. . . .' 
 
 On March 17, 1795, Tom Poole writes again 
 to Mr. Pains to thank him for his corrections, and 
 to send him ' another exercise.' The letter con- 
 cludes as follows : — 
 
 ' I hope you received S. Pierre. I am now reading 
 the fourth volume. As a moralist he is divine, but as a 
 
ii6 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vii 
 
 natural philosopher certainly fanciful, though doubtless 
 he elicits bright sparks from whatever he touches — sparks 
 from which men of more patient heads and cooler hearts 
 may perhaps fan a flame which may enlighten the 
 world. ..." 
 
 In after years it seemed wonderful to a younger 
 generation that not only Tom Poole, but even the 
 less impressionable household at Marshmill, and 
 more particularly the cool-headed and rather di- 
 dactic John Poole himself, so greatly admired S. 
 Pierre, as they certainly did. How could they 
 tolerate such sickly sentimentality ? it was asked. 
 But John Poole was, as we know, an ardent 
 botanist, and taking down a volume of S. Pierre, 
 he showed the intolerant niece who raised the 
 objection so beautiful, and at the same time so 
 accurate a description of a strawberry plant, that 
 she was instantly touched with a new comprehen- 
 sion of the charm of a writer once so popular and 
 now so little appreciated. 
 
 Monsieur Pains was the son of a Norman farmer. 
 He had a friend and fellow-student, the son of 
 another farmer, in the same part of Normandy, in 
 a certain Abb^ Barbey, who, having escaped the 
 September Massacres, had taken refuge in England. 
 Perhaps it was Tom Poole's persistent desire to ob- 
 tain instruction in French, which inspired Monsieur 
 Pains with the idea that his friend might find both 
 
1794-95 DEATH OF HIS FATHER 117 
 
 a resting-place and a means of livelihood, at the 
 remote little town of Stowey. Accordingly, some- 
 what later in the year, the Abbe Barbey arrived, 
 and soon became quite a favourite in the neigh- 
 bourhood, teaching French in all the principal 
 families, and usually dining and spending the 
 evening at the house where he gave his lesson. 
 Many old prejudices crumbled away in the general 
 pity for the victims of the Reign of Terror, and I 
 have been told that English Roman Catholics 
 trace a distinct mitigation of the feeling of hostile 
 intolerance with which their clergy had so long 
 been regarded, to the esteem and sympathy felt 
 for so many of the French priests who sought a 
 shelter in England in that day of difficulty 
 and distress. ' Creed and test vanished before 
 the unreserved embrace, of Catholic humanity/ 
 wrote Wordsworth, noting that very circum- 
 stance. 
 
 But in speaking of the Abbe Barbey I have 
 anticipated a little ; for it was not till the 
 autumn of 179S that he came to settle in Stowey, 
 and I must go back to speak of the death of the 
 elder Thomas Poole, which occurred in the July 
 of this same year. His son, whose tenderness in 
 times of sickness and sorrow I have already 
 noticed, himself attended upon his sick-bed, and 
 held him in his arms when he breathed his last. 
 
ii8 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vii 
 
 Yet Charlotte Poole, visiting the bereaved house- 
 hold on July 20, and finding them ' calm and 
 tranquil,' observes that 
 
 'Tom seemed the most gloomy, but the recollection 
 of his father is, I doubt not, embittered by the thoughts 
 of their former petty dissensions, though the blame be- 
 longed as much to my uncle as to him.' 
 
 Tom himself, writing some years later to Mr. 
 Garnett, speaks of the abiding depression into 
 which he was apt to be plunged by any great 
 strain upon his emotions — a dull, brooding con- 
 dition very difficult to shake off. ' Such scenes,' 
 he wrote, ' are equal to seven years' ordinary 
 experience and evaporation of youthful thought- 
 lessness.' A letter written to the same friend ^ very 
 shortly after his father's death, seems to show 
 that the idea of emigration to America had really 
 at one time seriously occupied his mind : — 
 
 ' My dear Sir — You ask me whether my ideas of 
 America are the same as when we parted. My ideas 
 are the same ; but my situation is strangely altered. I 
 have cause to regret not having sieen America during my 
 father's life. ... I hardly think I can now go on a 
 visit of observation. The business left me by my father 
 would be destroyed by my absence ; but a stronger 
 reason than this is the objection my dear mother would 
 make, whose state of health is such that she cannot, I 
 fear, live long. I could not happily leave her, and 
 
 1 T. Poole to Mr. Garnett, July 24, 1795. 
 
.1794-95 MUCH DRAWN TO AMERICA 119 
 
 wherefore should I make two miserable ? However, 
 circumstances and my views of things may change much 
 by the ensuing spring. I acknowledge that I now see 
 everything through a gloomy medium. I should be most 
 happy if, when you were at Bristol, you would come down 
 for a few days and see how I am situated, and weigh well 
 with me the chance of happiness in my present situation 
 against the enjoyment of that which I have reason to 
 expect in America. 
 
 ' When I say this I do not mean to damp, the ardour 
 even of my own mind on the subject. Weigh the advan- 
 tages of competence, consistent with moderate desires ; 
 of a country delightful by nature ; of being loved by my 
 relations, and I hope not disesteemed by my neighbours ; 
 of a business which is in itself particularly independent, 
 producing exercise enough for health, and leisure enough 
 for other pursuits. Weigh these things against those : 
 against political independence, including the full enjoy- 
 ment of the rights of man ; the absence of a proud 
 aristocracy, creating and patronising inhuman and unjust 
 wars ; and of a load of taxes ; and of the risque of those 
 political convulsions which seem just at our doors. ^ . . 
 The side the balance will preponderate in our minds is 
 not difficult to determine. 
 
 ' But here I must be fixed for the present, and while 
 I am here I shall endeavour to improve my business, 
 and make my situation as pleasant as I can. This will 
 be profitable in any event. In the line of business I 
 think I shall have one of your bark-mills, which on 
 many accounts are admirable, though I have my doubts 
 
 1 T. Poole has drawn his pen through this part of the letter, 
 which probably never went beyond his Copying-book. 
 
120 TFIOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vii 
 
 whether the bark is sufficiently lacerated to give out its 
 properties. I am at present making some experiments 
 to ascertain this point, which you will allow is very im- 
 portant. A few weeks since I saw and admired Coxe's 
 mill, and brought home some bark ground by it. . . .' 
 
 The letter concludes with a detailed recom- 
 mendation of a Stowey lad of fifteen, intelligent 
 and well behaved, and possessing a good know- 
 ledge of . arithmetic, who is 'badly off at home, 
 and longs to meet with some situation where he 
 may get his bread.' It will give Tom Poole ' great 
 pleasure,' if Mr. Garnett can find an opening for 
 him. Below the signature comes a short post- 
 script : — 
 
 ' If I go, I must get the best observations I can from 
 some one in whom I can confide — then close my affairs 
 in this country and finally depart' 
 
 But in that very year, 1795, Tom Poole, dis- 
 appointed and unexpectant, fretted by the con- 
 trarieties and limitations of his life, yet loyally 
 convinced that the bonds that held him to his 
 post were ties of love and duty which he would 
 never have the heart to disregard, was in the 
 very act of turning the leaf of a new chapter in 
 life — a chapter in which the commonplace, comfort- 
 able brown house, with the tanyard at the back, 
 and the long garden, from which there was indeed 
 a view of the hills, but which otherwise had 
 
1794-95 FIRST LETTER TO COLERIDGE 121 
 
 manifestly the air of a garden devoted to use 
 rather than to enjoyment, was to become for a 
 short but briUiant period a very centre and focus 
 of the best thought, the truest poetry, the strongest 
 intellectual activity of his time. It is remarkable, 
 almost startling, to observe how exactly Tom 
 Poole had prepared himself for a chance in life, 
 which would have been no chance at all, and 
 indeed must have slipped by absolutely without 
 recognition, if he had not been so strangely and 
 admirably ready to know what to do with it, but 
 which, being ready both in mind and heart, he 
 enthusiastically embraced, to the wide enlargement 
 of his horizon, and the far-increased happiness and 
 usefulness of his life. 
 
 The first letter of his to S. T. Coleridge that 
 has been preserved is dated October 10, 1795, and 
 is a warm outpouring of congratulations on his 
 marriage. It is chiefly remarkable for the ardent 
 expression of faith in Coleridge's powers which it 
 contains : — 
 
 ' I do congratulate you — most heartily I do. I wish 
 I knew Mrs. Coleridge — remember me most kindly to 
 her. May you both long, long be happy, and may the 
 lowering morning of your days precede a meridian 
 serenely bright and cloudless, leading in due time, 
 naturally, to the soft close of a tranquil evening. I 
 cannot tell you, my dear friend, for such I am sure I 
 
122 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vn 
 
 may call you, how much I am interested in everything 
 which concerns you. The world is all before you ; your 
 road seems yet to choose. Providence has been pleased, 
 if I may so express myself, to drop you on this globe as 
 a meteor from the clouds, the track of which is un- 
 determined. But you have now, by marrying, in some 
 sense fixed yourself You have created a rallying point. 
 It is the threshold of your life. It is the epocha from 
 which you must date every subsequent action. You 
 now begin to live. Let us then consider your future 
 prospects : — 
 
 ' You have given up the Magazine. This I am not 
 sorry for. I never liked the plan ; you were not born 
 to be a compiler. Your friends augur higher things, and 
 don't, don't disappoint us. The Cambridge plan does not 
 strike me ; it must have rriany inconveniences. As for 
 the Imitations, as you have so long neglected them, you 
 should not now regard them ; they never could be very 
 popular. They may, it is true, give you the reputation 
 of learning, but simply learned men are not very scarce 
 — original works of genius are your forte. Think not I 
 wish to damp for a moment your extending your literary 
 knowledge, or your improving yourself by the most pro- 
 found speculations. No — what I mean is, that you 
 should set yourself about some work of consequence, 
 which may give you a reputation, whether it be in poetry 
 or prose ; in treating it, delight and improve us all, and 
 remove the prejudices by which we are poisoned, not by 
 an electric spark to which nine out of ten will fear to 
 have recourse, but by those fascinating strains which 
 suspend, and finally destroy, the venom of the serpent's 
 bite. You can shock — you can charm — but the wise 
 
1794-95 BEGINNINGS OF FRIENDSHIPS 123 
 
 physician and the friend of human nature will prefer 
 that prescription which all his patients will swallow. 
 You see that I treat you as a friend in speaking freely. 
 If too freely, forgive me. 'Tis the head, not the heart, 
 which errs. . . .' 
 
 The letter concludes with an outburst of senti- 
 ment, a kind of thing which we nowadays all live 
 far too habitually under the fear of being absurd 
 ever to indulge in for one moment. And then 
 there is a postscript that ' My dear mother begs 
 to say she wishes you all the good that man can 
 know.' 
 
 It is plain that the acquaintanceship has made 
 rapid progress since that letter to Mr. Haskins 
 written a little more than a year earlier. Probably 
 Tom Poole had often journeyed to Bristol to hear 
 Coleridge lecture, perhaps to listen to the course 
 of which I find a prospectus, with some nonsense 
 verses of S. T. C.'s written on the back, laid away 
 among his papers. It may even be that he was 
 the friend at whose particular request the lecture 
 on the Slave Trade was delivered.^ At any rate 
 it is certain that Coleridge had already begun to 
 be a visitor at Stowey, and had been taken, as 
 Tom Poole always loved to take his friends, to 
 Marshmill. We cannot trace that he was recog- 
 nised as one of the two young strangers of the 
 
 1 The only contribution of T. Poole's that appears to have been 
 actually published in the Watchman is on this subject. 
 
124 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vii 
 
 year before, but we find him noted down by 
 Cousin Charlotte, in her keen, epigrammatic way, 
 on September 19, 1795. 
 
 'Tom Poole,' she writes, 'has a friend with him of 
 the name of Coldridge : a young man of brilliant under- 
 standing, great eloquence, desperate fortune, democratick 
 principles, and entirely led away by the feelings of the 
 moment' 
 
 A very different record of the same visit remains 
 in a rude and halting copy of verses, placed in my 
 hands by the kindness of Mr. Ernest H. Coleridge, 
 in which Tom Poole struggles to pour forth his 
 enthusiastic delight in the recognition of his 
 friend's genius. The paper, folded into a small 
 compass, perhaps to suit the size of a pocket-book, 
 is worn and tattered and soiled. The verses are 
 quite unpolished ; evidently Coleridge laid hands 
 upon them and carried them off just as they were, 
 with all the corrections and erasures, and the 
 verse about ' Sarah ' added as a kind of footnote 
 to the rest ; but such as they are, I give them, for 
 however conventional the phrasing, they are no 
 mere abstract burst of imperfectly expressed ad- 
 miration ; they describe Coleridge — and Coleridge 
 as he was in the first early freshness of the dawn 
 of his marvellous powers : — 
 
1794-95 A COPY OF VERSES 125 
 
 ' Hail to thee, Coldridge, youth of various powers ! 
 I love to hear thy soul pour forth the line, 
 To hear it sing of love and liberty 
 
 As if fresh breathing from the hand divine. 
 
 ' As if on earth it never yet had dwelt. 
 
 As if from heaven it now had wing'd its way ; 
 And brought us tidings how, in argent fields. 
 In love and liberty blest spirits stray. 
 
 • I love to mark that soul-pervaded clay, 
 
 To see the passions in thine eyeballs roll — 
 Their quick succession on thy weighty brow — 
 Thy trembling lips express their very soul. 
 
 ' I love to view the abstracted gaze which speaks 
 
 Thy soul to heavenwards towering — then I say, 
 He's gone — for us to cull celestial sweets 
 Amid the flowerets of the milky way. 
 
 ' And now at home, within its mortal cage, 
 I see thy spirit pent — ah me ! — and mourn 
 The sorrow sad, that weighs it down to earth. 
 As if the Cherub Hope would ne'er return. 
 
126 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vii 
 
 ' And then I mark the starting tear that steals 
 
 Adown thy cheek, when of a friend thou speak'st, 
 Who erst, as thou dost say, was wondrous kind, 
 But now, unkind, forgets — I feel and weep. 
 
 • I hear thee speak indignant of the world, 
 
 Th' unfeeling world crowded with folly's train ; 
 I hear thy fervent eloquence dispel 
 
 The murky mists of error's mazy reign.* 
 
 ' And thou. Religion, white-robed Maid of Peace, 
 Who smil'st to hear him raise his voice on high 
 To fix thy image on the Patriot's breast — 
 Remove the bitter tear, the fearful sigh. 
 
 ' T. P. 
 
 ' September 12, 1795.' 
 
 * ' Anon thy Sarah's image cheers thy soul. 
 
 When sickening at the world, thy spirits faint ; 
 Soft balm it brings — thou hail'st the lovely maid, 
 Paint'st her dear form as Love alone can paint' 
 
1795-96 COLERIDGE'S MARRIAGE 127 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 ' Friendship is a sheltering tree. ' 
 
 Coleridge, Ymth and Age. 
 
 The time when Charlotte Poole made the entry 
 in her diary was exactly a fortnight before Cole- 
 ridge's marriage ; and probably no one ever took 
 that important step in life in more blissful ignor- 
 ance of the responsibilities that he was assuming, 
 or with less practical idea of the importance of 
 a regular income, or of the way in which, if he set 
 himself to keep a family upon literature, he would 
 have to clip the muse's wings and teach her to 
 walk in a daily groove. 
 
 What is more surprising is that none of his 
 friends, neither Cottle nor Thomas Poole, nor, for 
 anything that can be discovered, any one else, seems 
 to have even thought of putting in a word of 
 warning or of counselling delay. I do not know 
 whether any belief is to be given to a story told 
 me by a relation of mine, who received it from 
 
128 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vni 
 
 some of the Marshmill family, that the marriage 
 was believed to have been rather hurried on, in 
 consequence of some hostile breath of rumour that 
 had arisen in connection with the Misses Fricker, 
 caused partly by the unconventional manner in 
 which they were constantly to be seen walking 
 about Bristol with two such remarkable and well- 
 known young men as Coleridge and Southey, and 
 partly from the impression that Pantisocracy 
 meant a system of things which dispensed with 
 the marriage-tie. When this disagreeable gossip 
 came round to the ears of those most nearly con- 
 cerned, the result was a generous impatience for 
 immediate marriage on the part of the two poets. 
 Southey, as we know, left his wife at the church 
 door, making, however, careful provision that she 
 should live with the Cottles, and did not claim 
 her companionship till he was able to see his way 
 to something like a regular income ; Coleridge, 
 more impetuous, and much less worldly wise, took 
 his bride home to the cottage at Clevedon, and to 
 the enjoyment of a honeymoon that seems to 
 have been like a brief dream of perfect happiness 
 in the midst of the shifting clouds of a troubled 
 and uncertain life. 
 
 But the glory faded. A remote village such 
 as Clevedon then was, proved to be too inac- 
 cessible a residence for a young man ' of desperate 
 
1795-96 THE JAR OF THE COMMONPLACE 129 
 
 fortune,' compelled to be on the look-out for a 
 career. The distance from Cottle the publisher, 
 from his friends, and from the Bristol library, 
 seemed daily more inconvenient ; and he returned 
 to Bristol, to live, most uncomfortably, in the very 
 centre of a large town, at the house of his wife's 
 mother on Redcliff Hill. And here, of course, it 
 is needful to remember how exceptionally gifted 
 a man Coleridge was, and to picture to ourselves 
 the position of such a nature in the midst of the 
 ordinary surroundings of a family of the narrowest 
 possible means, belonging to the lower middle 
 class. Probably few people ever make enough 
 allowance for the continual jar of the common- 
 place against the consciousness of those, whose 
 habitual region of thought is, as it were, the 
 mountain air of the soul. It is true they would 
 say that they are — and they are — ready to be 
 cheerfully content with the utmost simplicity of 
 life ; but this means, in their imaginations, a large 
 and tranquil simplicity, in which the natural 
 antithesis to few wants is few cares. A life of 
 sordid limitations, thronged with interruptions, 
 and crowded with little anxieties, is almost death 
 to them ; it paralyses their faculties, and torments 
 them with a perpetual difficulty in breathing 
 freely. 
 
 Coleridge drooped and pined on Redcliff Hill, 
 VOL. I K 
 
I30 THOJMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, viii 
 
 and his friends saw that it was so ; but his un- 
 easiness was soon reHeved by a welcome invitation 
 from Tom Poole, asking him to bring his wife 
 and come and spend some time at Stowey. The 
 visit left a deep impression upon Coleridge's mind 
 — an impression as of a haven of rest and sym- 
 pathy to which he could not but long to return. 
 He studied gardening, with a plan working in his 
 mind of which we shall hear more hereafter, wrote 
 Reviews, and ' gave every moment he could 
 spare ' to the congenial task of revising and pre- 
 paring for the press his Religious Musings, which 
 he was ' extremely anxious to have as perfect as 
 possible.' 
 
 Early in 1796 he returned to Bristol, but 
 this time to the definite work of superintend- 
 ing the issue from the press of his first volume 
 of poems ; whilst one of the many projects 
 that followed each other in rapid succession 
 through his mind took form and reality in the 
 publication of the Watchman, of which the first 
 number appeared on March i, 1796. It was in 
 February 1796, and therefore very shortly after 
 the visit of Mr. and Mrs. Coleridge to Stowey, 
 that Tom Poole addressed the following curious 
 letter to a lady whom he must have met whilst 
 staying with his brother at Sherborne. She . and 
 her sisters were the mistresses of a very good 
 
1795-96 HENRIETTA WARWICK 131 
 
 school for girls in that town, and were all of them 
 highly esteemed by Tom Poole ; whilst with ' the 
 admirable Miss Henrietta,' as he sometimes calls 
 her, he seems to have been on terms of friendship, 
 which, however stiff and formal in the estimation 
 of the present day, might reasonably have been 
 expected to ripen into a warmer feeling, but 
 apparently never did so. John Poole, who visited 
 Sherborne in 1794, describes Henrietta Warwick 
 as ' remarkably clever,' but ' not at all hand- 
 some,' and looking much older than her real age, 
 which was then scarcely twenty. He found her, 
 however, a very agreeable companion, and 'had 
 no objection to make the best use of the short 
 time he was in Sherborne to converse with the 
 most sensible woman there. . . . She seemed,' he 
 says, ' to have a masculine understanding, with- 
 out any diminution of feminine softness.' ^ The 
 following letter^ is printed from the rough copy 
 preserved in Tom Poole's Copying-book : — 
 
 ' You reproach me, Henrietta, I understand, for a 
 breach of promise. It is true I agreed to write to you ; 
 but you will remember that no particular time was speci- 
 fied, and did you know my numerous avocations, you 
 would, in candour, hesitate to blame me. I have con- 
 cerns of my own and concerns of others which, though, per- 
 haps, of small individual importance, serve in the aggregate 
 
 - Journal, May 4, 1794. 
 2 T. Poole to Henrietta Warwick, February 6, 1796. 
 
132 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, viii 
 
 to fill the fleeting moment as effectually as the sublime 
 pursuits of a Cook, or the pernicious politicks of a Pitt. 
 There was a time when I had much leisure, when I 
 should have been happy to have written long, very long 
 letters, to such a one as you ; but now, if you find me 
 irregular even in answering your letters, I must implore 
 you to attribute it to no want of inclination, or of interest 
 in the topicks which I am sure will be the subject of our 
 correspondence, but to such causes as you yourself, were 
 I to trouble you by reciting them, would deem sufficient. 
 Thus, you see, at the threshold of our intercourse I am 
 making terms for myself This I deem necessary, as I 
 foresee it will in future prevent my blotting much of 
 that paper with apologies for apparent neglect, which 
 ought to be more profitably employed. 
 
 ' The main design of our correspondence is mutually 
 to instruct and amuse each other, and not, as is too often 
 the case, to exaggerate the value of any talents we may 
 possess, and to foster that vanity which is so natural to 
 the human head. I know you too well to imagine you 
 require such homage, though it were just ; and I should 
 lessen you in my mind were I to attempt offering it. I 
 shall write to you frankly and sincerely, and on whatever 
 subject we speak, I shall give you my undisguised 
 sentiments. Perhaps I may be at times too frank ; if 
 so, pardon it, and be assured that the head not the 
 heart will err. You will observe a trivial example of 
 this when I simply address you — Henrietta. The truth 
 is, I know of no appropriate epithet which I could add 
 with sincerity to your name, without incurring the risque 
 of great singularity. I therefore avoid any. 
 
 ' Thus much for introductory matter. I have heard 
 
1795-96 MEN OF GENIUS 133 
 
 with pain from my sister Mrs. Wolstonecraft's story. . ". . 
 It is a sublime though melancholy instance of the justice 
 of Providence, that we seldom see great talents, partic- 
 ularly that class which we peculiarly denominate genius, 
 enjoying an even tenour of human happiness. A 
 continuation of the rapturous intellectual delights which 
 beings of this description often experience would be 
 inconsistent with that looking forward, which is certainly 
 a duty, to a state of superiour existence. Their souls 
 seem, at times, to start from the flesh, and to mingle 
 with their native skies. But on their return, as if wearied 
 by the exertion, they feel more bitterly the sad weight 
 which surrounds thefn, and seem sunk even below the- 
 common. standard of human nature. Doubtless he who 
 can, with calmness, and most frequently, abstract himself 
 from the body, and come home again with becoming 
 dignity, is of human beings the most perfect. But it be- 
 hooves him who possesses this faculty, so nearly allied 
 to superiour spirits, to keep ever a strong guard over his 
 feelings, to consider that he is at present connected 
 with a mortal part that is earthly, low, has passions and 
 appetites which must be, in a certain degree, indulged. 
 The neglect of this consideration seems to me the great 
 rock against which men of genius are wrecked. In their 
 moments of mind, if I may be allowed the expression, 
 they form plans which would be practicable only if those 
 moments were of continued duration ; but in their 
 career they feel like other mortals the sad burdens of 
 mortality, and these being overlooked in their scheme of 
 life, in the form of various passions they enter the 
 fenceless field, making unbounded havoc. 
 
 ' What a striking instance of this is Mrs. Wolstonecraft ! 
 
134 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, viii 
 
 \Wiat a striking instance is my beloved friend Coleridge ! 
 Spenser, Milton, Dryden, Otway, and last of all, the 
 " sweet Harper of time-shrouded minstrelsy," Chatterton, 
 were the same. This is a sad retrospect, Henrietta, 
 but, alas, a true one. What shall we then say ? Is 
 genius a misfortune ? No. But people of genius ought 
 imperiously to command themselves to think without 
 genius of the common concerns of life. If this be 
 impossible — happy is the genius who has a friend ever 
 near of good sense, a quality distinct from genius, to fill 
 up by his advice the vacuity of his character. Indeed I 
 think a good book might be written entitled Advice to 
 Men of Genius. But a truce to this subject ; it ought 
 not to have been undertaken in a letter, so much may 
 be said on it. 
 
 ' Let me hear from you as soon as you can conven- 
 iently write, and inform me, as far as a platonick friend 
 may be informed, of your principal pursuits. Propose 
 any subject you think proper for our conversation, for I 
 deem letter-writing conversation. It is for you to propose 
 topicks ; fortunate will it be if I, though in an imperfect 
 manner, may be enabled to assist you in discussing them. 
 Adieu. My sister is very well. My dear mother, I 
 thank God, is better. — Believe me, your sincere friend, 
 
 'Thos. Poole.' 
 
 Amongst the various avocations spoken of in 
 the foregoing letter, a constant and ever-deepening 
 interest in the condition of the poor must be 
 reckoned. Bread was almost at famine price in 
 the year 1795, and in that very month of Sep- 
 
1795-96 PIECES OF BREAD 135 
 
 tember, when Coleridge was staying at Stowey, 
 we find Poole in conference with his aunt at 
 Marshmill on the subject of the various experi- 
 ments then making with a view to obtaining a 
 cheaper loaf. 
 
 ' Tom came up,' writes his Cousin Charlotte, ' and 
 brought two pieces of bread as patterns ; one was made 
 with wheat, barley, beans, and potatoes, and nobody 
 can wish to eat better bread. The other is made with 
 wheat, barley, beans, and turnips, and that is likewise 
 good ; but the turnips give it a particular taste which 
 some persons may dislike.' 
 
 Mrs. John Poole seems to have set to work to 
 test the practical value of these combinations, for 
 we find another entry ^ recording that her ' Mother 
 has been employed all day in preparing some 
 bread to sftl to the poor. It is composed of a 
 bushel of wheat flour, one peck of barley flour, 
 one peck of potatoes, peeled, boiled, and rubbed 
 into the flour, and a small quantity of bean flour. 
 Unfortunately Nancy Jones did not quite under- 
 stand her oven, and by not heating it sufficiently 
 spoiled the bread.' 
 
 Let us hope Nancy Jones did not do it on 
 purpose ! But every one who has ever tried the 
 experiment knows only too well the dislike, almost 
 approaching to resentment, with which the unedu- 
 
 ^ November 23. 
 
136 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, vin 
 
 cated are apt to receive an- attempt to persuade 
 them to eat anything to which they are not 
 accustomed. 
 
 But however ready the family at Marshmill 
 might be to co-operate with Tom in his philan- 
 thropic schemes, their dislike to his political 
 opinions was as unmitigated as ever. Imagine, 
 therefore, the point of view from which they would 
 regard his intercourse with Coleridge. To the 
 cousins Tom's ' democratick sentiments ' were 
 becoming no mere eccentricity of vision that 
 might be pitied and tolerated, but a great moral 
 divergence which they were bound to condemn. 
 
 ' Tom Poole came up in the evening,' writes Miss 
 Charlotte on March 15, 1796; 'he is never happy till 
 he has introduced politicks, and as usual he disgusted us ; 
 for he has no candour, and there seems to be so much 
 venom, bitterness, and determination in his whole 
 conduct that it quite shocks me. He endeavours to load 
 the higher class of people indiscriminately with oppro- 
 brium, and magnifies the virtues, miseries, and oppressed 
 state of the poor in proportion. If he does not stand up 
 as the advocate of the French enormities, he endeavours 
 to palliate them, and I am sure, from his conversation 
 and conduct, he would be glad to see all law and order 
 subverted in this country. What can be the cause of 
 such conduct ? Certainly pride and the love of power ; 
 for though the democrats so eloquently talk of the 
 wickedness of the world, and declaim against tyranny, 
 I do not find that their lives are more spotless, and I am 
 
1795-96 LETTER OF RICHARD POOLE 137 
 
 sure in their own little concerns they display a great deal 
 of tyranny. In short, his mind is poisoned — I fear 
 irrecoverably poisoned.' 
 
 But if rebuffed and disappointed at Marshmill, 
 Tom had at least the comfort of finding himself 
 ardently supported in his own household. The 
 sympathy of tastes and convictions of which I have 
 already spoken as existing between him and his 
 brother, is well illustrated by the following letter, 
 addressed by Richard Poole to S. T. Coleridge on 
 May 3, 1796: — 
 
 ' My good Friend — Having lately been at Stowey, 
 and seeing at my brother's several numbers of your 
 Watchman, with which I was much delighted, I will 
 trouble you to send me in future two of the numbers 
 weekly, one for myself, the other for a friend here ; we 
 have a newsman, who goes direct to Bristol, whom I 
 shall direct to call at Mr. Cottle's. ... If you have the 
 numbers from the beginning, I will thank you to send 
 them, as the set will be then compleat. I will either 
 transmit you the money by the newsman, monthly or 
 quarterly, as you may wish. 
 
 ' Your volume of Poems I have likewise read with 
 rapture. Many of them I had seen, or before heard you 
 repeat. Some passages of the Religious Musings are 
 exquisitely sublime ; I only regret that you write not more 
 to the level of common understandings ; you yourself 
 have been much engaged in metaphysical pursuits and 
 studies ; what probably therefore appears easy of compre- 
 hension and familiar to your mind, is either unintelligible 
 
138 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, viii 
 
 to the generality of your readers, or requires so much 
 exertion of the understanding as to give pain and 
 embarrassment instead of pleasure. 
 
 ' I have likewise read your two lectures. If the last 
 were less passionate, I should like it better. The cause 
 of truth and reason never wants violence or invective for 
 its support ; sober argument and rational investigation 
 are alone necessary to convince the unprejudiced and 
 disinterested. As for the herd of interested and luxurious 
 bawlers that every way abound around us, leave them 
 to themselves and the awakening of British freedom 
 and energy. I would avoid all harsh and irritating 
 epithets (of which, by the bye, you are so fond), 
 and steadily inculcate what is right, with temper and 
 philosophy. Leave the rest to Truth. 
 
 ' Your goodness, I am sure, will excuse the above 
 remarks ; they are simply dictated by the wish to see you 
 arrive at that pinnacle of fame to which your writings 
 give you so just a claim, and from a lively interest I 
 take in everything that concerns you. I was sorry to 
 hear from my brother that Fortune, that fickle jade, is 
 not yet tired of playing her slippery tricks towards you. 
 I sincerely hope, however, you keep up your spirits 
 amidst all your difficulties. Your friends are numerous, 
 and I have no doubt will do anything reasonable to serve 
 you. If you persevere in the Watchman I think it will 
 be necessary for you fully to give your opinions on 
 Government, and to support those opinions by cool and 
 dispassionate argument. The man who constantly rails 
 at the establishments that exist, and proposes nothing in 
 their stead, can only be styled an Anarchist, a character 
 which I know you hold in sovereign contempt. If I 
 
1795-95 REMARKS ON THE 'WATCHMAN' 139 
 
 mistake not, you are warmly attached to the principles of 
 the British Constitution for this country. The people 
 here are certainly much prejudiced in favour of monarchy ; 
 to reinstate, therefore, the constitution to its former state 
 of purity should, in my opinion, be your constant theme. 
 Mr. Yorke, whom I have lately seen in Dorchester Bastile, 
 and of whom I will speak more when next I write to 
 you, contends that Annual Parliaments was formerly 
 the law of the land, however, it is certain the general 
 principles of liberty were well understood at least by our 
 ancestors, if not practised. I would wish you very much 
 to turn your attention to the character of Alfred ; he 
 certainly has not been sufficiently attended to by writers 
 on our Constitution. The research would be useful on 
 two accounts, as I hope to see him the hero of an Epic 
 Poem by S. T. Coledridge. May heaven bless and pre- 
 serve you. — Yours fraternally, Richd. Poole.' 
 
 Not a few readers may smile at the calm 
 confidence in his own opinion with which Richard 
 Poole, whilst asking Coleridge to send him the 
 Watchman, scruples not to volunteer his advice as 
 to the subjects and style both of that publication 
 and of Coleridge's other compositions. Not so 
 Coleridge himself. There is a time in the lives 
 of most great men, when, disheartened by the 
 slowness of an unresponsive public to recognise any 
 gift in the utterances of one whose name is as yet 
 unknown to fame, and whose pretensions clash with 
 their accustomed standards, they suffer very cruelly 
 from depression and self- distrust. At such a 
 
140 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, viii 
 
 moment no cordial is of such unspeakable value 
 as one word of genuine appreciation from a friend 
 whose judgment is worth having. In a literary 
 point of view there may not be much in Richard 
 Poole's letter ; but it does express that perfect 
 faith in Coleridge's powers, that undissembled 
 expectation of great things to be accomplished by 
 him, which was as the breath of life to him at that 
 particular moment. 
 
 ' This morning ' [May 5], he writes to Thomas Poole, 
 ' I received a truly fraternal letter from Richard Poole of 
 Sherbourne, containing good and acceptable advice. He 
 deems my Religious Musings too metaphysical for common 
 readers. I answer, the poem was not written for com- 
 mon readers. In so miscellaneous a collection as I 
 have presented to the public singula cuique should be 
 the motto. . . .' 
 
 ' With regard to my own affairs,' he continues, in a 
 well-known passage, part of which must, nevertheless, be 
 transcribed here, ' they are as bad as the most Trinitarian 
 Anathematizer, or rampant Philo-despot could wish in 
 the moment of cursing. ... It is not pleasant, Thomas 
 Poole ! to have worked fourteen weeks for nothing — for 
 nothing I . . . " O Watchman, thou , hast watched in 
 vain,'' said the Prophet Ezekiel, when, I suppose, he 
 was taking a prophetic glimpse of my sorrow- sallowed 
 cheeks. . . ' 
 
 Indeed it would appear that, but for a happy 
 thought, which seems to have originated with Tom 
 
1795-96 FOREDOOMED TO FAILURE 141 
 
 Poole, Coleridge must have found himself at this 
 particular moment absolutely without resources. 
 Of course it is easy to show that the Watchman 
 was foredoomed to failure. That it might avoid 
 the newspaper stamp duty, it was arranged to 
 appear with systematic irregularity, every eighth 
 day, to the discomfiture of all ordinary arrange- 
 ments for receiving periodicals ; and instead of 
 consulting the taste of the public who were ex- 
 pected to take it in, its aim was to improve and 
 instruct their minds ! Yet upon this unbusiness- 
 like project Coleridge was depending for ' that 
 vulgar commodity yclept Bread,' of which marriage 
 was teaching him ' the wonderful uses.' He had 
 conceived the plan with enthusiasm ; he had thrown 
 himself into it with all the ardour of his nature. 
 We know, by his success afterwards in the Morn- 
 ing Post, that he did really possess, in a very high 
 degree, the special kind of aptitude which is 
 needed by a successful writer for the public press, 
 but — the Watchman failed ; only a few appreciated 
 his poems ; many people, even many good people, 
 (and how hard to bear is the condemnation of the 
 good ! ) were utterly offended at them ; what 
 foundation had he for believing that he ever would 
 succeed in anything else ? Succeed, that is, in the 
 sense of achieving a popularity that would pay. 
 When the last number of the Watchman appeared, on 
 
142 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, viii 
 
 May 13, 1 796, he must have been almost desperate, 
 being either penniless or very nearly so, and entirely 
 without any certain prospect of being otherwise. 
 
 But even as early as March 28, the rough 
 sketch of the following letter had been drafted in 
 Tom Poole's Copying-book ; already the plan had 
 been communicated to a few of Coleridge's friends, 
 and ' acted on,' says Tom Poole, ' by I think seven 
 or eight,' and a small sum of ;^35 or .£^40 (a 
 small sum, but how great a relief to one who has 
 come within sight of his last sixpence !) was 
 awaiting Coleridge's acceptance, and that in the 
 honourable form of a testimonial, offered by his 
 admiring friends, as a token of their esteem and 
 appreciation. With the tender forethought and 
 considerateness that belongs to real affection, Tom 
 Poole contrived that the letter should be received 
 on the very day on which the last number of the 
 Watchman was issued. 
 
 [In the Biographical Supplement the project is 
 alluded to as a plan for buying an annuity 
 which was never put into execution. This, it will 
 be seen, is not exact. It is true that the scheme 
 so enthusiastically described was only partially 
 carried out ; namely, on the present occasion, and 
 once again in 1797. It may have been thought 
 that the Wedgwood annuity removed all further 
 necessity for going on with it] 
 
1795-96 A TIMELY OFFERING 143 
 
 ' It has occurred to the undersigned sincere Friends 
 and ardent Admirers of the Author of the " Monody on 
 the Death of Chatterton," and of various other pieces in 
 verse and prose of unusual merit, — it has occurred to 
 these to deposit five guineas each in the hands of John 
 Cruikshank,^ to be by him immediately sent to the person 
 above alluded to. They further purpose annually, for 
 the six succeeding years, in the week preceding Lady 
 Day, each of them to transmit the like sum to the said 
 John Cruikshank, to be immediately after the receipt 
 thereof applied to the same use as the first deposit 
 now made. And this they pledge themselves to each 
 other to perform, in full confidence that a benevolent 
 Providence will enable them, with unabated cheerfulness, 
 to fulfil their engagement. It is their pride and their 
 pleasure, if it seemeth good to S. T. Coleridge, to 
 offer him this trifling mark of their esteem, gratitude, 
 and admiration : esteem generated from a knowledge 
 of his heart ; gratitude for instruction and delight re- 
 ceived by his writings and conversation ; admiration 
 produced by contemplating the extraordinary marks of 
 sublime genius with which he is endowed. 
 
 ' They are also irresistibly impelled to make this offer 
 by recollecting the disinterested traits in his character ; 
 by recollecting that he has abandoned all, even the most 
 seducing allurements, for a situation which leaves him 
 only the triumphs of an honest heart, which are in truth 
 exquisite, and the power to retain and disseminate those 
 principles which he believes to be true, and to tend to 
 the happiness of man. He also united himself to her he 
 
 ^ Mr. Estlin, not Mr. J. Cruikshank, seems to have eventually 
 become the treasurer. 
 
144 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, viii 
 
 loves, regardless of every other consideration. It is thus 
 that, hfted above the cupidity almost Inwoven in the 
 hearts of all who live in such a society as ours, he pre- 
 sents in himself an object which awakens every tender 
 and noble sensation of the soul. 
 
 ' His friends have now only to exhort him to proceed 
 with a steady and unceasing ardour in the career which 
 he has entered ; to exert with kindness his argumentative 
 powers, his forcible eloquence, his keen satire, his learn- 
 ing, in the support and dissemination of what he honestly 
 believes to be the truth; but above all, to invoke that Muse 
 who is the source of his highest delight, who will effectu- 
 ally assist him to that end, and who while she instructs 
 the ignorant, will not cease to charm and elevate the wise. 
 
 'They cannot better close this testimony of their 
 mutual regard for him than by the fond wish that all 
 anguish of mind may be removed from his dwelling, and 
 that he may in peace enjoy the most perfect domestic 
 felicity, added to every intellectual delectation, until the 
 awful moment when the curtain shall be withdrawn, and 
 to his soul shall be disclosed that relation existing between 
 man and the great Invisible, which, during his residence 
 here, his ardent eye had often sought in vain. 
 
 ^ March 28, 1 796.' 
 
 Coleridge's reply vs^as that ' burst of affectionate 
 feeling ' wrhich has already been printed in the 
 Biographical Supplement. 
 
 ' Poole ! ' Coleridge wrote, ' the Spirit, who counts the 
 throbbings of the solitary heart, knows that what my 
 feelings ought to be, such they are; If it were in my 
 power to give you anything which I have not already given, 
 
^Ti(> A 'BURST OF FEELING' 145 
 
 I should be oppressed by the letter now before me. 
 But no ! I feel myself rich in being poor ; and because 
 I have nothing to bestow, I know how much I have 
 bestowed. Perhaps I shall not make myself intelligible , 
 but the stro7ig, and unmixed affection which I bear to you, 
 seems to exclude all emotions oi gratitude, and renders even 
 the principle of esteem latent and inert. Its presence is 
 not perceptible, though its absence could not be endured. 
 
 ' Concerning the scheme itself I am undetermined. 
 Not that I am ashamed to receive; — God forbid ! I 
 will make every possible exertion ; my industry shall be 
 at least commensurate with my learning and talents ; if 
 these do not procure for me and mine the necessary 
 comforts of life, I can receive as I would bestow, and in 
 either case — receiving or bestowing — be equally grateful 
 to my Almighty Benefactor. I am undetermined there- 
 fore, not because I receive with pain and reluctance, 
 but because I suspect that you attribute to others your 
 own enthusiasm of benevolence ; as if the sun should 
 say — "With how rich a purple those opposite windows 
 are burning ! " But with God's permission I shall talk 
 with you on this subject. By the last page of No. X. 
 you will perceive that I have this day dropped the 
 Watchman. On Monday morning I will go per caravan 
 to Bridgwater, where, if you have a horse of tolerable 
 meekness unemployed, you will let him meet me. 
 
 ' I should blame you for the exaggerated terms in 
 which you have spoken of me in the Proposal, did I not 
 perceive your motive. You wished to make it appear an 
 offering, not a favor, and in excess of delicacy, have, I 
 fear, fallen into some grossness of flattery. God bless 
 you, my dear, very dear friend. ..." 
 
 VOL. I L 
 
146 THOMAS TOOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, viii 
 
 Whether or no the meek horse was sent to 
 meet him we cannot say; but in that year 1796 
 Tom Poole's house was a harbour of refuge, 
 always open to poor Coleridge in his many trials ; 
 and certainly, three days later, Charlotte Poole 
 met him in Stowey, and made the following rather 
 savage entry in her diary. On that particular 
 afternoon. May 15, she was drinking tea with 
 her ' Aunt Thomas,' and ' in the evening who 
 should arrive but the famous Mr. Coldridge ! ' 
 
 Oddly enough, she again writes as if she had 
 entirely forgotten ever having seen him before. 
 ' I cannot form an opinion of him in so short a 
 time,' she says, ' but could have discovered, if I 
 had not before heard it, that he is clever, and a 
 very short acquaintance will unfold that he is 
 extremely vain of it' 
 
 It is strange to read these sharp judgments 
 from the pen of one who has left behind her in 
 the memory of the nephews and nieces, with whom 
 she was a favourite and much-loved aunt, nothing 
 but traditions of kindness, geniality, sweetness of 
 temper, and great practical sense and benevolence. 
 It can only be accounted for by remembering how 
 extremely harsh and crude is the colouring that 
 political prejudices lend to the mind. Perhaps, 
 too, the sentence was not wholly at fault, for it 
 is precisely in times of failure that characters 
 
1795 'HONEY PIE' 147 
 
 conscious of power, and perplexed to account for 
 their own want of success, are apt to silence the 
 bitter promptings of self- distrust, to vent the 
 irritation caused by the stings of disappointment, 
 and to express their defiance of an unjust world, 
 by the wildest outbursts of self-assertion. None 
 of us, I think, has ever sufficiently realised the 
 prolonged agonies of defeated hope, and only too 
 well-grounded anxiety, which must have been the 
 portion of poor Coleridge at this period of his life. 
 He stayed one fortnight with his friend, and 
 returned to Bristol on May 29, by coach from 
 Bridgwater, where, arriving 'too early for the 
 caravan,' which did not start till nine, he gives 
 some proof of recovered spirits by penning a 
 nonsensical letter to Tom Poole, recalling the 
 ' honey pie ' that he had eaten at Stowey,^ and 
 relating how he had passed away the time, partly 
 by eating a tremendous breakfast, and partly by 
 wandering along the muddy banks of the Parrett, 
 which, he remarked, ' looked as filthy as if all the 
 parrots in the House of Commons had been washing 
 their consciences therein,' and indulging in tender 
 recollections of the ' dear Gutter of Stowey.'" 
 
 1 In 1796 the Bill for the Abolition of the Slave Trade having 
 been thrown out, friends of the cause all over England were mutely 
 protesting by abstinence from all slave -grown luxuries, and 
 especially sugar. 
 
 2 A straight gutter bordering the street in Stowey, through which 
 a running stream passes. 
 
THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, jx 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 ' Ah me ! Literary adventure is but Bread and Cheese by chance.' 
 
 Coleridge to Thelwall^ 1796. 
 
 In spite of the comical letter sent back to Tom 
 Poole, it is not difficult to understand that neither 
 the heartfelt sympathy that he had found at 
 Stowey, nor even the substantial aid so delicately 
 pressed upon him by Poole and others, could 
 altogether relieve the burden of anxious care 
 which must still have weighed on Coleridge's mind 
 as he returned to Bristol. True, if he did not pay 
 it away to Cottle for the debts the WatcJiman had 
 left behind it, he had a sufficient sum of money in 
 his possession to provide for the necessities of 
 many weeks to come. But afterwards, what then? 
 He was perfectly aware of the transcendent 
 character of his own powers, but the experience 
 of disappointment and failure, the strangling, 
 unrelaxing pressure of domestic responsibility, led 
 him very often, in hours of despondency, to doubt 
 
1796 A TIME OF DISCOURAGEMENT 149 
 
 whether his abilities were of the marketable kind, 
 and to conceive harassing suspicions of his own 
 incapacity to earn an income. A young and 
 untrained wife, fond of him indeed, but perplexed 
 by ways and gifts entirely beyond her small experi- 
 ence, and no doubt tempted to feel both irritated 
 and alarmed at the total absence of what common- 
 place people call ' prospect,' is more to be pitied 
 than blamed if she clung and cried when she 
 ought to have encouraged and comforted, and 
 could neither be very hopeful nor very helpful in 
 the desperate condition of her husband's affairs. 
 To keep out of debt, and to make such small 
 sums of money as drifted irregularly into her 
 hands last as long as possible, must have been to 
 her the one subject of absorbing interest and 
 difficulty ; and if she was, upon the whole, fairly 
 successful in accomplishing this task, must not 
 this have been no unimportant assistance to 
 Coleridge in his struggle with adverse circum- 
 stances ? 
 
 But the struggle was a very hard one, and 
 Coleridge a man of more than ordinary sensitive- 
 ness. His letters during the latter half of the 
 year 1796 are not to be read without pain, so 
 full are they of sadness, disappointment, and 
 suffering. Not till six weeks after his return from 
 Bristol did Tom Poole even hear from him. 
 
150 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, ix 
 
 ' Suspense,' he then wrote, ' has been the real cause 
 of my silence. Day after day I have confidently expected 
 some decisive letter, and as often have been disap- 
 pointed — "Certainly I shall have one to-morrow noon, 
 and then I will write." Thus I contemplated the time 
 of my silence in its small component parts, forgetful into 
 what a sum total they were swelling. . ' 
 
 An opening had, indeed, presented itself, and 
 one that offered a sufficient prospect of ' regular 
 compensation adequate to the maintenance of 
 himself and Mrs. Coleridge,' but it was a proposal 
 to remove to London, and write for the Morning 
 Chronicle, and the idea of writing for a newspaper 
 was at that time most unwelcome to him. He 
 talked of hiring a horse for two days and 
 ' galloping down ' to Poole to have his advice, 
 but the thing seems to have come to nothing, 
 except that Coleridge may actually have gone up 
 to London about the matter, for the following 
 note from Purkis is evidently an answer to a letter 
 from Tom Poole introducing his friend. It would 
 seem that the ride to Stowey must also have been 
 accomplished ; for the letter is so evidently written 
 entirely under the influence of Coleridge's own 
 idea, that to be what he calls ' a hackney writer 
 for a newspaper' would be a melancholy expen- 
 diture, in ephemeral tasks, of powers that were 
 meant to produce something lasting, that we are 
 
1796 A BUSINESS-LIKE POINT OF VIEW 151 
 
 inclined to think the spell of his presence and con- 
 versation must have been upon Poole when he 
 penned it. Purkis treats the subject from a cooler 
 and far more business-like point of view : — 
 
 'My dear Poole — I have this moment received 
 your letter, and as it may be some days before I see 
 your friend Coleridge, I scratch a line in haste to say I 
 shall rejoice to know him, both for your sake and his 
 own. Of his abilities I entertain the very highest opinion, 
 and of his heart I cannot but be favourably impressed 
 by your partiality and affection. To pity him would be 
 an insult, but I cannot help feeling a kind of indignation 
 that such a mind should be doomed to wander through 
 the world, and drudge to-day, in order to make provision 
 for the bread of to-morrow. . . 
 
 ' But to leave this strain. Be assured, dear Poole, that 
 my heart will be open to receive your friend ; and though 
 he will not profit much by any information or advice 
 that I can give him, yet he will at least have the satis- 
 faction of knowing that one more in the world admires 
 his genius, and sympathises with his misfortunes. . . . 
 
 ' With respect to an engagement with an editor of a 
 newspaper, I do not see it in that contemptuous point 
 of view in which you paint it. I allow that Coleridge 
 has talents beyond it, but if Perry will pay him liberally, 
 he may not be uselessly employed. He may benefit 
 himself and his country, perhaps, at the same time. 
 The influence of a well-conducted newspaper on the morals 
 and politics of a nation is beyond what may be at first 
 imagined, and as Raphael did not disdain to paint cups 
 and vases, I think Coleridge may display his taste and 
 
152 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, ix 
 
 genius in a paragraph or an essay. I just know Perry 
 by sight, and have heard him much praised ; but to me 
 he seems to have a spice of puppyism. However, that 
 is nothing to your friend. I hope they will agree on 
 terms. . . . — Yours most faithfully, S. Purkis.' 
 
 But the idea of settling in London passes com- 
 pletely out of sight, and in its stead the name of 
 Mrs. Evans of Darley comes to the front, a widow 
 lady of culture and sensibility who is eager to 
 entrust the education of her sons to Coleridge. 
 Everything is arranged. Coleridge is delighted to 
 undertake the charge ; Tom Poole is happy in the 
 thought that his friend's uncertainties are about to 
 be comfortably concluded, when an incoherent, re- 
 gretful note from Mrs. Evans overthrows the entire 
 scheme. Her boys have guardians, and so strong 
 are their remonstrances that she has been com- 
 pelled to yield up her own wishes. Tom Poole's 
 indignation at the feminine weakness that had in- 
 flicted so severe a disappointment upon his friend, 
 is almost amusing in its vigour : — 
 
 ' My dear, very dear Coleridge — I read with heart- 
 sickening anguish, though not with surprise, your packet 
 by Bob. 
 
 ' My dear fellow, you are schooled to disappointment. 
 I hope you bear this with steadiness. You say you do, 
 and never tell me what is not true. The delusion, how- 
 ever painful the discovery that it was a delusion, has 
 produced solid advantages. You are reconciled to your 
 
1796 'SUCH A WOMAN' 153 
 
 friends ; ^ write to them, I pray you, and tell them that 
 the curtain is withdrawn from before your eyes, and that 
 behind is nothing ! I write immediately, to ease my 
 own heart, for it fears that you may be impatient to be 
 sure that it feels as you feel, and I am in hopes also 
 that it will reach you before you leave Darley. You 
 said that if you had not remained with Mrs. Evans you 
 might have got pupils at Derby. I would have you in- 
 quire before you leave the neighbourhood concerning 
 this. Could you get any to take with you down to 
 Bristol, or to come to you at any fixed period there ? 
 Or perhaps, by settling at Derby, time and your conduct 
 may soften the ferocious opposition made to her plans ; 
 or, at any rate, by the friendship of such a woman you may 
 gain much. I still say such a woman, though she has 
 lamentably betrayed that she knew not that she was 
 woman. I am now convinced of what I doubted before, 
 that woman is inferiour to man. No man who is capable 
 of willing as ardently as she willed, who had the heart 
 and head she possesses, and understood the object to 
 be attained so well, would vacillate. Woman, thou wast 
 destined to be governed. Let us then bow to destiny. 
 
 ' In even mentioning your settling so far off, I sacrifice 
 every selfish feeling to integrity. For I should think 
 myself dishonest if I allowed you to pass a hair that 
 would prop you, though it should lead you far from me. 
 But if, watching anxiously as you beat along the road 
 for some green path which may lead you to a fixed abode, 
 none such be to be found, I shall, I confess, after having 
 
 ^ During the year 1796 Coleridge had visited Ottery, and had 
 been affectionately received by his mother and brothers. — Estlin 
 Letters, printed by the Philobiblon Society. 
 
154 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, ix 
 
 discharged my conscience, rejoice at the fruitlessness of 
 the search. My dear, dear boy, God Almighty bless 
 you and assist you. Adieu ! adieu ! 
 
 ' Thos. Poole. 
 ' Write ! write ! 
 'August 8.' 
 
 The negotiation appears to have gone so far 
 between Coleridge and Mrs. Evans that he and 
 his wife seem to have been actually on their way 
 to Darley, to make final arrangements. The poor 
 lady met them with much agitation and embarrass- 
 ment, but Coleridge hastened to relieve her. 
 
 I told her— he writes to Poole — ' to feel nothing 
 on my account. I cannot be said to have lost 
 that which I never had, and I have gained what I 
 should not otherwise have possessed, your ac- 
 quaintance and esteem.' 
 
 ' Say rather,' she exclaimed, ' my love and 
 veneration.' And the visit which began under 
 such awkward and disappointing circumstances 
 accomplis"hed its course pleasantly enough. Cole- 
 ridge, writing from Stowey to Thelwall in 1797, 
 remembers those five weeks spent by himself and 
 Mrs. Coleridge at Darley as ' a sunny spot in their 
 lives.' By the time that Tom Poole's letter of 
 sympathy reached Darley, the tact and delicacy of 
 his hostess, and his real enjoyment of the beauty of 
 the Derbyshire scenery, had so taken the edge off his 
 disappointment that he could sincerely write : — 
 
1796 A FRIENDLY HEART 155 
 
 ' Indeed, my very dear Poole, I wrote to you the whole 
 truth. After the first moment I was perfectly composed, 
 and from that moment to this have continued calm and 
 light-hearted. I had just quitted you, and I felt myself 
 rich in your love and esteem. You do not know how 
 rich I feel myself " O ever found the same ; and trusted 
 and beloved ! " 
 
 ' The last sentences of your letter affected me more 
 than I can well describe. Words and phrases which 
 might, perhaps, have adequately expressed my feelings, 
 the cold-blooded children of this world have anticipated 
 and exhausted in their unmeaning gabber of flattery. 
 I use common expressions, but they do not convey 
 
 common feelings. My heart has thanked you. In 
 
 preaching on Faith yesterday,^ I said that Faith was in- 
 finitely better than Good Works ; as the Cause is greater 
 than the Effect, as a fruitful Tree is better than its 
 Fruits, and as a friendly heart is of far higher value 
 than the kindnesses which it naturally and necessarily 
 prompts. It is for that friendly heart that I now have 
 thanked you. . .' 
 
 A month later, September 24, 1796, he has 
 been in Birmingham again, staying with the family 
 of Charles Lloyd. 
 
 ' My dear, very dear Poole,' he writes — ' The heart 
 thoroughly penetrated with the flame of virtuous friend- 
 ship is in a state of glory; but "lest it should be exalted 
 above measure, there is given it a Thorn in the Flesh." 
 I mean that when the friendship of any person forms an 
 
 ^ At Birmingham, on his way home from the North. 
 
156 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, ix 
 
 essential part of a man's happiness, he will at times be 
 pestered by the little jealousies and solicitudes of 
 imbecile humanity. Since we last parted I have been 
 gloomily dreaming that you did not leave me so affec- 
 tionately as you were wont to do. Pardon this littleness 
 of heart, and do not think the worse of me for it. 
 Indeed my soul seems so mantled and wrapped round by 
 your love and esteem that even a dream of losing but 
 the smallest fragment of it makes me shiver — as though 
 some tender part of my nature were left uncovered and 
 in nakedness. ..." 
 
 He goes on to say that Lloyd's parents having 
 given their joyful concurrence to their son's resi- 
 dence with him, but particularly wishing to see 
 him for a few days, Mrs. Coleridge had advised 
 him to go, declaring herself not likely to be laid 
 up for three weeks to come ; but ' on Tuesday 
 morning ' he had been surprised by a letter, 
 announcing the birth of his firstborn Son. (SON 
 in the largest possible letters.) 
 
 'I was quite annihilated,' he adds, 'with the sudden- 
 ness of the information, and retired to my room to 
 address myself to my Maker ; but I could only offer up 
 to Him the silence of stupefied feelings. . . .' 
 
 Of course he hastened home ; whether it seemed 
 equally of course to Mrs. Coleridge that, at such 
 a moment, Charles Lloyd should accompany him, 
 may be questioned. But at all times Coleridge 
 
1796 DAVID HARTLEY COLERIDGE 157 
 
 was as social as Wordsworth was segregative in 
 his tendencies, and to congenial guests his house 
 stood ever open, with a comic, heedless indiffer- 
 ence to the limitations of size, or the ins and outs 
 of domestic convenience. 
 
 ' When I first saw the child,' he continues — it is the 
 thought that he afterwards embodied in a sonnet — ' I did 
 not feel that thrill and overflowing of affection which I 
 expected. I looked on it with a melancholy gaze. My 
 mind was intensely contemplative, and my heart only 
 sad. But when, two hours after, I saw it at the bosom 
 of its mother, on her arm, and her eye tearful and 
 watching its little features, — then I was thrilled and 
 melted, and gave it the kiss of a father. . . . The baby 
 seems strong, and the old nurse has overpersuaded my 
 wife to discover a likeness of me in its face ... its 
 name is DAVID HARTLEY COLERIDGE. I hope 
 that ere he be a man, if God destines him for continuance 
 in this life, his head will be convinced of, and his heart 
 saturated with, the truths so ably supported by that great 
 master of Christian Philosophy. ..." 
 
 The letter goes on to speak of Charles Lloyd, 
 of his qualities of mind and heart, and his gratitude 
 to heaven for the opportunity of living with 
 Coleridge. His father, a member of the Society 
 of Friends, has declared that if he sees his son 
 forming habits of severe economy, he will not 
 insist on his adopting a profession : — 
 
158 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, ix 
 
 ' My dearest Poole, can you conveniently receive us in 
 the course of a week ? . . . I have much, very much to 
 say to you and consult with you about, — for my heart is 
 heavy respecting Derby, and my feelings are so dim and 
 huddled that, though I can, I am sure, communicate them 
 to you by my looks and broken sentences, I scarcely 
 know how to convey them in a letter. And Charles 
 Lloyd wishes much to know you personally. . . .' 
 
 Then follow tw^o sonnets of Charles Lloyd's, of 
 which the following one alludes ' to the conviction 
 of the truth of Christianity, which he had received 
 from Coleridge, for he had been, if not a Deist, yet 
 quite a Sceptic : ' — 
 
 ' Lloyd's Sonnet. 
 
 ' If the lone breathings of the poor in heart. 
 If the still gratitude of Wretchedness 
 Reliev'd when least expecting, have access 
 To Thee, th' Almighty Parent ! thou wilt dart 
 Thy loving-kindness on the offering meek 
 My spirit brings, opprest with thankfulness 
 At this lone hout : for Thou dost ever bless 
 The stricken mind, that sighs and cannot speak. 
 
 ' Omniscient Father ! I have been perplex' d. 
 With scoffers link'd ! yea, called them my Friends 
 That snare the Soul. But Doubt and black Despair 
 Are past ! My heart, no longer sorely vex'd. 
 May now unshroud itself — its arm extends 
 To Heaven ! For Thou, my best Friend ! dwellest 
 there ! ' 
 
1796 A BOY THAT KNEW HIS OWN MIND iS9 
 
 The letter concludes with messages to Poole's 
 family circle. ' Give my kind love to your sister 
 and dear mother, and likewise my love to that 
 young man with the soul-beaming face, which I 
 recollect much better than I do his name. . . .' 
 
 This was a youth named Thomas Ward, whose 
 family belonged to the Sherborne neighbourhood, 
 and who had, some little time before, been brought 
 to Stowey on a visit by Richard Poole. He was 
 then a boy of fifteen, intelligent and thoughtful 
 beyond his years, and destined by his friends for 
 the medical profession. But Thomas Ward had 
 never before seen any one like Mr. Poole ; and he 
 attached himself to him with a sudden fervour of 
 boyish enthusiasm and admiration, which was 
 actually powerful enough to alter the whole course 
 of his life. Returning home he had announced 
 that he did not want to be a doctor, and he did 
 not care about going to the university ; the one 
 thing he did desire was to be apprenticed to Mr. 
 Poole. To live in his house and to learn his 
 business, seemed to him a lot in life to be preferred 
 and chosen before every other that could be 
 offered to him. 
 
 It is always such a comfort to have to do with 
 a boy that knows his own mind, that we are not 
 at all surprised to learn that Thomas Ward was 
 allowed to have his own way. Some time in 
 
i6o THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, ix 
 
 1795 or 1796 he was duly articled, and found 
 that a nearer and more intimate acquaintance 
 only increased and deepened the love and venera- 
 tion that he had conceived for Mr. Thomas Poole, 
 who, fully responding, gradually learnt to look 
 upon his articled pupil more and more in the light 
 of a son, and, in later years, he took him into 
 partnership. They were great companions even 
 from the first ; and there is a tradition that one of 
 their favourite amusements was to play chess 
 together, and that when the primitive customs of 
 the household, or Mrs. Poole's motherly solicitude 
 for the lad's health, interrupted their game earlier 
 than they approved, they would sometimes continue 
 it in the dark from their respective bedrooms, 
 shouting the moves across the passage into which 
 their doors opened. To play a game of chess 
 without seeing the board strikes one as a rather 
 unusual intellectual feat on the part of a boy of 
 sixteen or seventeen ; but then Ward was certainly 
 no common boy. He married and spent all his 
 life in Stowey ; and I have already mentioned that 
 many of the. traditions and reminiscences alluded 
 to in these pages have come to me from his 
 daughters. 
 
 The following was Tom Poole's reply to the 
 foregoing letter: — 
 
 ' My dearest Friend — the friend held dearest by me. 
 
1796 EXPECTED VISITORS i6i 
 
 I say it thinkingly — and say it as a full answer to the 
 first part of your last interesting letter. By you, 
 Coleridge, I will always stand, in sickness and health, in 
 prosperity and misfortune; nay, in the worst of all 
 misfortunes, in vice ... if vice should ever taint thee 
 but it cannot. 
 
 ' My dear, I came an hour ago from Sherborne, 
 where I have left my mother and sister. On my arrival 
 I met your letter. 
 
 ' I congratulate you on becoming a father — the father 
 of David Hartley ; on the health of his mother, to 
 whom remember me tenderly. When I have a son, his 
 name shall be John Hampden. If either of them should 
 feel, what a coronet he will have to support ! 
 
 ' I have now two or three buzzing round me, and I can 
 only simply answer yoiir letter. I am happy Mr. Lloyd 
 is with you ; I shall be more happy to see him. Come 
 both directly. I am all alone. And we will live. Yes : 
 I hope we will live. 
 
 ' I have only ran over the poetry. When we meet we 
 will talk of all things. 
 
 ' Give me a line by return of post, just mentioning 
 the day — nay, I will send horses to Bridgwater — only 
 mention the day and the time of the day. They shall 
 be there. — Adieu most kindly, Thos. Poole. 
 
 ' September 26, 1796.' 
 
 VOL. I M 
 
i62 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, x 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 ' That polish of style, that smoothness of versification, and that 
 harmony of periods, which demands labour, and labour only, 
 are incompatible with the strong and rapid combinations of 
 Genius. Restlessness of thought, power superior even to will, 
 ardent but indefinite hope — these constitute the great elements 
 of that feeling which always has something above the common 
 habits of thought ; has been, as it were, supernaturally infused 
 into the mind, or self-born in it, — which, though derived from 
 the senses and feelings, bears very little relation to them, — which 
 is, as it were, matter converted into mind, spirit animating 
 thoughts and feelings, embodied in reasoning.' — From a Note- 
 book of Sir H. Davy. 
 
 Coleridge's visits to Stowey, Coleridge's letters, 
 Coleridge's perplexities, and the constant question 
 how best to help and counsel him, these were, 
 beyond all doubt, the leading interests in Tom 
 Poole's life during the year 1796. But contem- 
 plative philosopher as Coleridge might be by 
 nature, the main tendency of every line that he 
 wrote, the entire bent of his teaching, was ever to 
 awaken that sense of responsibility to God, and 
 brotherhood with man, which is the master-impulse 
 of activity and service, and no one ever came 
 
1796 A HAPPY INFLUENCE 163 
 
 within the sphere of his influence without being 
 quickened to fresh hope, and, as it were, new-born 
 to fresh energy. When the two friends first met 
 Tom Poole was suffering under a load of depres- 
 sion and discouragement, personal and political, 
 which was destroying all his zest in life, and had 
 even affected his health. The mere contact with 
 Coleridge's genius, the delight and stimulation of 
 intercourse with one so highly gifted, was as a 
 draught of clear spring water to a man whose 
 energies were paralysed by thirst. It was a great 
 increase to his happiness to begin with, and in- 
 creased happiness soon showed itself in increased 
 vigour, and renewed confidence in himself and his 
 purposes. 
 
 It is true that the habit of reading Latin with 
 his cousin, John Poole, had been dropped. Some 
 unexplained coolness arose between Tom and the 
 Marshmill family during the earliest weeks of the 
 year ; and although the report of an illness of 
 Tom's mother's brought John Poole instantly to 
 the door, to wonder why they had not heard of 
 it before, after which the intercourse between the 
 two households became almost as frequent as ever, 
 yet signs are not wanting that it was not quite 
 upon the old footing, and there is no more dropping 
 in ante jentaculum to read Horace, or Cicero, or 
 Virgil. That unlucky occasion when John Poole 
 
i64 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, x 
 
 wrote ' maxime indignor ' in his journal, seems to 
 have established a first impression, never to be re- 
 moved, of the characteristics of Tom's new friends, 
 and the chilling disapproval with which he 
 knew his growing intimacy with Coleridge to be 
 regarded at Marshmill, must have created a painful 
 feeling of restraint between him and his cousins. 
 His mother, however, had become in the highest 
 degree sympathetic. John Poole, calling once when 
 Tom was out, was perhaps rather amazed at the 
 vigour with which she repeated and maintained 
 her son's favourite sentiments. 'Aunt Thomas 
 was exceedingly violent against the War, Ministers, 
 etc. etc.,' he complains. Whether Sarah Poole, 
 engaged to be married to a Bristol merchant who 
 was certainly no democrat, shared the same views, 
 is not apparent. She was, like her brothers and 
 her cousins, a person of cultivated understanding, 
 knowing 'from cover to cover,' she is once re- 
 ported to have said, her Bible and her Shakespeare, 
 and many messages of 'fraternal remembrance' 
 addressed to her in Coleridge's letters, seem to 
 show that no prejudices, political or otherwise, 
 prevented her from making herself pleasant to her 
 brother's friends. 
 
 A leading feature in the occupations of the 
 year, at Marshmill as well as at Stowey, was 
 learning French of the Refugee Abbe already 
 
1796 ARRIVAL OF THE ABB^ BARBEY 165 
 
 spoken of. He had arrived in Stowey in August 
 1 79 5 — 'a good old man in appearance, and 
 speaking but little English.' John Poole bridged 
 over the difficulty by conversing with him in Latin, 
 where, one would imagine, the insular eccentricity 
 of English pronunciation may have been rather 
 a bar to mutual comprehension, but the very next 
 day the Abbe was at Marshmill, giving John and 
 his sister Charlotte — the journalising Charlotte — a 
 lesson in French, and, from that day forwards, he 
 was so constantly either there, or at Tom's house 
 at Stowey, that continual practice must soon have 
 developed the power of conversing with him as 
 freely as any one could wish in his own tongue. 
 Happily for the fulfilment of Tom's desire to 
 become acquainted with French literature, the 
 Abbe was evidently a lover of books. Exile as 
 he was, and reduced to live by teaching his own 
 language, there is, among the many mentions of 
 his name in the Pooles' journals, only one notice 
 in which it is observed that the Abbe Barbey 
 seemed depressed and out of spirits ; and then 
 John Poole found that the news had just reached 
 him, indirectly, through Monsieur Pains, that his 
 library had been sold in the course of the pre- 
 ceding year. ' Most of his other property was 
 safe, he having consigned it to his brother.' 
 Emigre and royalist as the Abb6 might be, he 
 
i66 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, x 
 
 could scarcely be a Frenchman and not be ac- 
 quainted with the French philosophical writers of 
 the day, or, at any rate, with the foremost amongst 
 them, and any book that he might mention as 
 worth reading would, doubtless, soon be added 
 to Tom Poole's collection. The following letter ^ 
 will show both his enthusiasm for the study of 
 French, and also the manner in which the half- 
 philosophical, half-sentimental problems of French 
 revolutionary thinkers worked also in English 
 minds, but without the same ferment, and without 
 the dangerous tendency to extremes in thought 
 and action. 
 
 ' I sincerely thank you, my amiable friend, for the ex- 
 cellent letter you sent me, and notwithstanding my long 
 delay in answering it, permit me to assure you that I 
 highly value your correspondence, and anticipate its 
 progress with no small satisfaction. The account of the 
 progress of your own mind highly interested me. There 
 is a celebrated maxim of La Bruyfere which says if " Man 
 is not as good as he should be, it is the fault of his 
 educadon "; with respect to the dispositions of the heart 
 there is, I believe, a great deal of truth in this adage ; 
 but ask yourself, without fearing the imputation of self- 
 complacency, if the most spirited educadon could have 
 given to many of your pupils those quick perceptive 
 powers you must be conscious of possessing. In truth, 
 you, my fair friend, may be what you think proper ; you 
 
 ' T. Poole to Henrietta Warwick, April 2, 1796. 
 
1796 LETTER TO HENRIETTA WARWICK 167 
 
 have only to will ardently, and. the object is attained. 
 And, as you have condescended to ask my opinion con- 
 cerning your future pursuits, I would recommend you, as 
 you anticipated, first, to will that you will acquire a 
 thorough knowledge of the French language. Were I a 
 woman of superiour mind I should bless myself that the 
 tyranny of prejudice had not hitherto proscribed my sex 
 this truly useful and elegant attainment. To be sincere, 
 I cannot consider a woman passably educated without a 
 knowledge of it ; and I am sure I could not, without re- 
 proof, hear her complain of any monopoly of learning on 
 the part of the Man, whilst she herself had neglected this, 
 — in the present moment certainly the first branch of 
 learning. ... I have never felt any delights in reading 
 English literature comparable to those which I have ex- 
 perienced in reading French. L'Emile de Rousseau, for 
 example — what a book is there ! " Comme il peiise et 
 cotnme il fait penser" as has been well said ; but not only 
 this book but many others which I could recommend 
 you, if you read French. I have lately perused with 
 much delight La Citoyenne Roland. Learn French, I 
 pray, and you may make even your learning the language 
 the vehicle of much solid instruction. ... I never 
 retain so much as when I read in a language with which 
 I am not familiar. 
 
 ' I can spare no more of this letter for this subject, 
 as I wish to say a word or two on your question : Is 
 the perfectibility of Man in this world compatible with 
 the comfortable doctrine that our existence here is but 
 antecedent to a better ? — 
 
 ' I have never read Godwin's work ; but I fear in 
 pampering the mind, he has destroyed the heart. How 
 
i68 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, x 
 
 he answers your question I know not, but the question 
 seems to me as if it would bound the benevolence of 
 God. I believe that Man, by physical and moral 
 discipline, may attain perfection as Man ; a perfection 
 of which we have, perhaps, no adequate idea, or which, 
 at any rate, we see but dimly. Yes, I can conceive 
 that his body and mind may be so improved that the 
 former may be more durable, and the latter susceptible 
 of infinitely higher enjoyments than at present; in 
 short, that the age of gold, as it is called, of which there 
 is a tradition with every People, may be renewed — an 
 age when Man, fresh from his Maker's hands, and 
 strongly impressed with a recent revelation, lived over 
 centuries, enjoying a mind and being as yet undisturbed 
 by passion or vice. The transition from this state to 
 our present condition is, perhaps, the truth shadowed 
 out by our Scriptural allegory of the Fall of Man. The 
 very expressions seem to prove it ; the tree of knowledge 
 meant worldly knowledge, i.e. vice. Vice produces 
 death, i.e. shortens life, etc. etc. There was a renewal 
 of this blissful state immediately after the flood — no 
 wonder, after such a lesson; and, at this moment, 
 the awful process going on in Europe, added to the 
 present energetic search after truth, induce me fondly 
 to hope that Mankind is now, though slowly, advanc- 
 ing once more to this, the most perfect state of earthly 
 felicity. 
 
 ' Surely in believing this I can by no means conclude 
 that God designs me to die ! No. The more perfect I 
 am here the more worthy I shall be to live hereafter ; in 
 such a state I am, indeed, worth preserving. I 
 conceive, then, that after being satiated with all earthly 
 
1796 LETTER TO HENRIETTA WARWICK 169 
 
 happiness, we are, by that crisis in our nature which we 
 call death, simply introduced to a new scene, offering a 
 beatitude of which Man, even in his most perfect state, 
 may be incapable of forming an idea. Here we may, 
 with abundant gratitude, rest and be satisfied ; but I do 
 not think that the benevolence of God will rest. I 
 doubt not but hopes more elevated will be there 
 excited ; and they will not be excited in vain ; but we 
 shall, ever in a progressive state of mind, proceed from 
 heaven to heaven, to all eternity, still approaching the 
 great source, and still adoring. . . . 
 
 ' " 'Tis such delights, such strange beatitudes. 
 Seize on my young anticipating heart, 
 When that blest future rushes on my view." 
 
 Coleridge. 
 « 
 ' It is thus that I think the perfectness of Man will 
 prepare him for immortality. I can say no more. The 
 bounds of a letter are unequal to this subject. Adieu. 
 
 ' I trust your admirable sister is better. Where talents 
 are employed as hers have been, the welfare of many is 
 involved in her state of health. . . . How interesting — 
 nay, if the expression may be permitted, how sacred is 
 the work of education. Oh, that it were throughout 
 the world in such hands as at your house. God bless 
 you. Thos. Poole.' 
 
 The composition, and then the copying out, of 
 such an epistle as the above, must have absorbed 
 rather a considerable share of the time which it 
 had been, for years, Thomas Poole's daily habit to 
 devote to what may be called the things of the 
 
I70 THOMAS POOLE AND PUS FRIENDS chap, x 
 
 mind. It must not be forgotten that, in the practical 
 affairs of life, the management of his business, the 
 cultivation of his farm, the local interests of the 
 little place in which he lived, he was as energetic, 
 and capable and industrious, as if he never spared 
 a thought to anything else. And yet he had time 
 to go out woodcock-shooting with his cousin in 
 the shooting season, sometimes even to follow the 
 harriers, and time, too, for social, friendly inter- 
 course with all the large circle of acquaintance 
 and connections living in and about his native 
 place. We are reminded of the common ex- 
 perience that it is only busy people who can be 
 relied upon for finding time for additional work ; 
 idlers never appear to have any leisure, they are 
 too completely occupied in idling. 
 
 We have seen him in eager consultation with 
 his aunt in October 1795 about cheap bread for 
 the poor ; in November of the same year John 
 Poole found him trying to introduce an improved 
 way of planting wheat upon his farm. 
 
 ' Went to Baker's Land,' he says, ' where I found T. 
 Poole overlooking his work-people. Some women were 
 planting wheat. There was one man and three boys 
 dibbling it after the Norfolk method, a description of 
 which has been sent to him by Dr. Fisher, with a sketch 
 by himself.' 
 
 In fact, Tom was making improvements 
 
 in 
 
179^ ALTERATIONS AND IMPROVEMENTS i7r 
 
 every direction — ' taking down useless hedges, 
 clearing ditches, planting, etc.,' and, in his business, 
 leading the way in the use of improved machinery. 
 He had, even then, ' opened a quarry for stones at 
 Castle Hill Gate,' and was building ' a new house 
 for grinding bark'; and in April 1796, John 
 Poole saw the ' new bark mill ' at work, which 
 Tom's American friend, Mr. Garnett, had invented, 
 and records that it ' answered perfectly.' The 
 novelty of the new bark house has departed long 
 since ; but there it still stands, and there, when I 
 last visited Stowey, I saw a woman grinding bark 
 at a mill of perhaps very much the same con- 
 struction, and was told of the local tradition that 
 Mr. Coleridge used to take a great deal of interest 
 in the putting of it up. 
 
 It is probable that this must have been a 
 later mill erected in 1807,^ but one thing is 
 certain, namely, that the practical aspect of his 
 friend's life had always a wonderful fascina- 
 tion for Coleridge. Abstract thinker as he was 
 by nature, his ideal of life at all times, but most 
 especially at this period, was a life in which con- 
 templation, whether in the form of reading, study, 
 or meditation, should rest upon a basis of manual 
 industry, by which the necessaries of life should 
 be provided. To sell the highest intellectual gifts 
 
 ^ Life of WHliam Baker, p. 23. 
 
172 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, x 
 
 for bread was always repugnant to him, and, 
 indeed, in the painful straitness of which he had 
 had so harassing an experience, he was acquiring 
 a conviction that pearls of great price are not very- 
 saleable commodities ; inferior jewels find pur- 
 chasers much more easily. 
 
 In Tom Poole he saw for the first time the actual 
 combination of highly cultivated literary tastes and 
 quick intellectual sympathies, with a no less high 
 degree of practical vigour and utility. The gentle 
 and gifted Charles Lloyd was set apart by infirm 
 health from the active business of life ; Estlin was 
 a Unitarian minister and a schoolmaster ; an older 
 and dearer friend, Charles Lamb, certainly never 
 handled any instrument of labour but a pen ; but 
 Tom Poole actually was, what he delighted to 
 call himself, a tradesman. He belonged, definitely 
 and not indirectly, to the class of producers, and 
 earned his living in what even the most advanced 
 of social reformers would allow to be an entirely 
 satisfactory way, by the manufacture of an article 
 of primary necessity. Not only this, but he had 
 land, which, as has been seen, he farmed himself; 
 and the actual cultivation of the soil is not only 
 the very example and archetype of productive 
 industry, but is capable of being celebrated as such 
 in poetry, which can hardly be said of the humble 
 avocation of tanning. Nor, did Tom Poole lead, 
 
1796 HIS AIMS AND MOTIVES 173 
 
 as many people do lead, a sort of double existence, 
 being, as it were, one man in his book-room and 
 another in his business. His life was eminently 
 all of one piece. Duty and service were alike his 
 watchwords whether he were reading French with 
 Abbe Barbey, or overlooking his work-people on 
 the farm or in the tanyard. Literature was never 
 to him, either 
 
 ' a couch, whereon to rest a searching and restless spirit ; 
 or a terrace for a wandering and variable mind to walk 
 up and down with a fair prospect ; or a tower of state 
 for a proud mind to raise itself upon ; or a fort or com- 
 manding ground for strife and contention; or even a 
 shop, for profit and sale ; and not a rich storehouse, 
 for the glory of the Creator and the relief of man's 
 estate. 1 . . .' 
 
 ' To give a true account of the gift of reason, 
 to the benefit and use of men,' had ever been, 
 and ever was, ' the last and furthest end ' to which 
 the entire course of his studies was directed. 
 
 It is not very wonderful that admiration of Tom 
 Poole's calm, well-ordered life, together with the 
 peace and freedom and perfect toleration, which 
 Coleridge knew awaited him, the moment he could 
 get inside the door of that plain, old-fashioned house, 
 with the tanyard and the garden at the back, and the 
 sight of tranquil rustic labours, and cheerful country 
 
 ^ Bacon's Advancement of Learning, Book I. 
 
174 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, x 
 
 pursuits, all combined to make Stowey seem to 
 Coleridge's imagination the one happy resting- 
 place where he might be safe from all his cares 
 amongst those who loved him. No doubt some 
 expression of longing to live there may have often 
 crossed his lips during his frequent visits to his 
 friend, but it is not till November i, 1796, that 
 we find the subject started in his letters. There 
 was a small house at Adscombe, close to Stowey, 
 which belonged to Lord Egmont, and which, it 
 would seem, Coleridge hoped to be allowed to 
 rent. 
 
 ' I am frightened at not hearing from Cruikshank,' 
 he writes (Cruikshank was Lord Egmont's agent). 'Has 
 Lord Thing-a-my-bob — I forget the animal's name — 
 refused him ? Or has Cruikshank forgotten me V 
 
 How eagerly his mind was set upon the plan 
 is easily to be seen by the following passage from 
 the beginning of the same letter : — 
 
 '. . . I have seen a narrow-necked bottle so full of 
 water that, when turned upside down, not a drop has 
 fallen out. Something like this has been the case with 
 me. My heart has been full, yea, crammed with 
 anxieties, about my residence near you. I so ardently 
 desire it that any disappointment would chill all my 
 faculties, like the fingers of death. And entertaining 
 wishes so irrationally strong, I necessarily have day-maii ^ 
 
 ^ 'Ds.y-mair is S. T. C. 's spelling. As in the Ancient Mariner, 
 ' The night-/Kaz> death-in-life was she.' 
 
1796 A DAY-DREAM 175 
 
 dreams that something will prevent it, so that, since I 
 quitted you, I have been gloomy as the month which 
 even now has begun to lower and rave on us. . . .' 
 
 Four days later ^ he wrote again, in answer to a 
 letter from Tom Poole which has not been pre- 
 served. 
 
 ' Thanks, my heart's warm thanks to you, my beloved 
 friend ! for your tender letter. Indeed I did not deserve 
 so kind a one; but by this time you have received 
 my last. To live in a beautiful country, and to enure 
 myself as much as possible to the labours of the field, 
 have been for this year past my dream of the day, my 
 sigh at midnight ; but to enjoy these blessings near you, 
 to see you daily, to tell you all my thoughts in their first 
 birth, and to hear your's, to be mingling identities with 
 you, as it were ! — the vision-weaving Fancy has indeed 
 often pictured such things, but Hope never dared whisper 
 a promise. Disappointment ! disappointment ! dash not 
 from my trembling hand this bowl which almost touches 
 my lips ! Envy me not this immortal draught, and I will 
 forgive thee all thy persecutions. ... I am anxious 
 beyond measure,' he concludes, ' to be in the country 
 as soon as possible. I would it were possible to get a 
 temporary residence till Adscombe is ready for us. I 
 virould that it could be, that we could have three rooms 
 in Bill Poole's large house for the winter. . . . Tell me 
 whether you think it at all possible to make any terms 
 with him. You know I would not wish to touch with the 
 edge of the nail of my great toe the line which should 
 
 ' November 5- 
 
176 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, x 
 
 be but half a barleycorn out of circle of the most 
 trembling delicacy. . . .' 
 
 This last sentence is surely a caricature of 
 some one. William Poole was an uncle of Tom 
 Poole's. He farmed a good deal of land and was 
 popularly known in Stowey as ' Prophet Poole,' 
 on account of his astonishing sagacity in predict- 
 ing the course of the weather. Coleridge's poem 
 beginning — 
 
 ' Why need I say, Louisa dear ! 
 How glad I am to see you here, 
 A lovely convalescent ; ' 
 
 was addressed to his daughter Lavinia, afterwards 
 Mrs. Draper. Nothing came of the above sug- 
 gestion, but this letter of November 5, 1796, 
 is remarkable amongst Coleridge's letters and 
 papers, as being the very earliest in which, years 
 before opium became his tyrant, recourse to a 
 narcotic is mentioned. Months of wearing anxiety, 
 and of expectations alternately raised and thrust 
 down, acting on a highly sensitive nature could 
 not fail to produce precisely the same kind of 
 physical breakdown which the same causes almost 
 invariably do produce, even in natures far tougher 
 and far less finely strung than Coleridge's, at the 
 present day. In the wilderness of disappointment, 
 and amid the arid wastes of heart -aching care, 
 
I79S THE REALITIES OF BODILY PAIN 177 
 
 Neuralgia, persistent and relentless, dogs her 
 victims, waiting only, like some beast of prey, until 
 the depressing atmosphere has done its work, and 
 the strength is brought too low for resistance. 
 
 ' I wanted such a letter as your's,' writes poor Cole- 
 ridge, ' for I am very unwell. On Wednesday night I 
 was seized with an intolerable pain from my right temple 
 to the tip of my right shoulder, including my right eye, 
 cheek, jaw, and that side of the throat. ... It con- 
 tinued from one in the morning till half-past five, and 
 left me pale and fainty. It came on fitfully but not so 
 violently several times on Thursday, and began severe 
 threats towards night, but I took between sixty and seventy 
 drops of laudanum and sopped the Cerberus just as his 
 mouth began to open. On Friday it only niggled ; as if 
 the Chief had departed from a conquered place, and 
 merely left a small garrison behind . . . but this 
 morning he returned in full force, and his name is 
 Legion ! Giant- fiend of an hundred hands ! With a 
 shower of arrowy death-pangs he transpierced me, and 
 then became a Wolf, and lay gnawing my bones. I 
 am not mad, most noble Festus ! but in sober sadness I 
 have suffered this day more bodily pain than I had 
 before a conception of . . . My medical attendant 
 decides it to be altogether nervous, and that it originates 
 either in severe application, or excessive anxiety. My 
 beloved Poole, in excessive anxiety I believe it might 
 originate. 
 
 ' I have a blister under my right ear, and I take twenty- 
 five drops of laudanum every five hours, the ease and 
 spirits gained by which have enabled me to write you 
 -VOL. I N 
 
178 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, x 
 
 this flighty but not exaggerating account. . . . Your 
 letter is dated November 2. I wrote to you on 
 November i. Your sister was married that day, and 
 on that day, several times, I felt my heart overflowed 
 with such tendernesses towards her, as made me re- 
 peatedly ejaculate prayers in her behalf. Such things 
 are strange. It may be superstition to think about such 
 correspondences ; but it is a superstition which softens 
 the heart, and leads to no evil. . . .' 
 
 Two days later he wrote that he was better ; 
 for the greater part of a whole day he ' had en- 
 joyed perfect ease,' and though 'totally inappe- 
 tent of food, and languid, even to an inward perish- 
 ing,' had found energy to write ' a short note of 
 congratulatory kindness ' to Mrs. King. ' I shall be 
 eager to call upon her,' he adds, ' when LEGION 
 shall have been thoroughly exorcised from my 
 temple and cheek.' 
 
1796 ANXIOUS EXPECTATION 179 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 ' An angry letter, but the breach was soon healed. ' 
 
 Thomas Poolers Memoranda. 
 
 ' I am not fit for public life ; yet the light shall stream to a far dis- 
 tance, from the taper in my cottage window.' — Coleridge to 
 Thelwall, December 1796. 
 
 It is not clear why, or in what manner, Coleridge 
 was disappointed of his hope to be allowed to 
 rent the house at Adscombe. A week passed by, 
 during which perhaps Tom Poole hardly knew 
 what to say to him, for we find Coleridge writing on 
 'Tuesday, November 15, 1796 — half-past five '— 
 
 ' My dearest Poole — Since the receipt of your last 
 letter I have written you twice ; and for this week past 
 I have been punctually at the door of the post -office 
 every evening at five o'clock, anxiously expecting to hear 
 from you. My anxieties eat me up. I entreat you write 
 me, if it be only to say you have nothing to write. Have 
 you thought concerning my suggestions in the letter I 
 wrote during my illness ? Yes ! I am sure you have. 
 Let me know the result of your reflections. . . . 
 
i8o THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xi 
 
 ' If I should be likely to find out any temporary resi- 
 dence near you, I would immediately walk down to 
 Stowey and look for it. 
 
 ' But write ! ' 
 
 In reply Tom Poole seems to have told his 
 friend that the one only house which it was likely 
 to be. in his power to take was the unattractive 
 cottage directly facing the street, which in the 
 end Coleridge actually did inhabit. Tom Poole's 
 doubts whether it could possibly be considered a 
 fit abode for his friend were answered by the 
 following impetuous note : — 
 
 'My beloved Friend — Pardon the childish im- 
 patience which I have betrayed. The sailor who has 
 borne cheerily a circumnavigation may be allowed to 
 feel a little like a coward when within sight of his 
 expected and wished-for port. 
 
 ' We shall be more than content to live a year in the 
 house you mention. It is not a beauty, to be sure, but 
 its vicinity to you shall overbalance its defects. Pray 
 take it for us for a year. I would it were possible that 
 we could get into it in three weeks, for we must quit 
 our house on Christmas Day, and it will be awkward to 
 take lodgings for a week, and expensive. 
 
 ' I will instruct the maid in cooking.' 
 
 The above letter is undated, but was evidently 
 written some time in the last days of November. 
 Tom Poole had, perhaps, expected a different 
 answer to a letter in which he would seem to have 
 
1796 PRUDENT COUNSELS i8i 
 
 dwelt, rather uneasily, on the disadvantages and 
 drawbacks of the house in question. Business, 
 however, called him up to London, and it was not 
 till his return home, ten days later, that a feeling 
 of alarm at the thought that he might be doing 
 anything but an act of friendship in leading 
 Coleridge to bury himself in a remote corner of 
 the world, where he must perforce make his home 
 in a mean and unsuitable cottage, together with 
 the fact that some more advantageous residence 
 had offered itself at a place called Acton, within a 
 short distance of Bristol, or perhaps even, as Cole- 
 ridge himself seems to have suspected, some 
 instance of local prejudice and intolerance, making 
 him feel a little dread as to what might be his 
 friend's reception amongst the inhabitants of 
 Stowey, caused him to write and advise Coleridge 
 after all to think whether he had not better give 
 up the Stowey plan. The chance of renting 
 Adscombe seems to have entirely come to nothing ; 
 and the cottage really would not do — he could 
 never be comfortable there. 
 
 But these prudent counsels were crossed by 
 another enthusiastic note from Coleridge. The 
 account of the dinner at the Kings', with his 
 disgust at Mrs. King's retrogression in the matter 
 of hair-powder, reminds us that the mode of wear- 
 ing the hair was then a political Shibboleth, and 
 
i82 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xi 
 
 the bride's powdered locks were a visible sign of 
 backsliding from her brother's opinions. 
 
 ' My beloved Poole — The sight of your villainous 
 handscrawl was a great comfort to me. How have you 
 been diverted in London ? What of the theatres ? And 
 how found you your old friends ? I dined with Mr. 
 King yesterday week. He is quantum suff: n pleasant 
 man, and (my wife says) very handsome. Hymen lies 
 in the arms of Hygeia, if one may judge by your sister ; 
 she looks remarkably well ! But has not she caught 
 some complaint in t/ie head'i Some scurfy disorder? 
 For her hair was filled with an odious white Dandruff. 
 {^N.B. — Nothing but powder,' — a feminine hand has 
 added here in pencil.) 
 
 ' About myself I have so much to say I really can say 
 nothing. I mean to work very hard — as Cook, Butler, 
 Scullion, Shoe-cleaner, occasional Nurse, Gardener, Hind, 
 Pig -protector, Chaplain, Secretary, Poet, Reviewer, and 
 omnium-botherum shilling-Scavenger. In other words, I 
 shall keep no servant, and shall cultivate my land-acre 
 and my wise-acres as well as I can. ... I wish that 
 little cottage by the roadside were gettable ? That with 
 about two or three rooms — it would quite do for us, as 
 we shall occupy only two rooms. I will write more fully 
 on the receipt of yours. God love you and 
 
 ' S. T. Coleridge.' 
 
 So wrote Coleridge on Sunday morning, De- 
 cember 1 1, 1796 ; and on the very same day, or 
 perhaps on the Saturday, Poole, as we have seen, 
 
1796 VEHEMENT AND RESENTFUL LETTER 183 
 
 was writing too — a letter that fell like ice on the 
 state of ardent expectancy in which his friend had 
 been living for weeks, and threw him into an 
 agitation which found immediate vent in a vehe- 
 ment and resentful letter, written at the Bristol 
 Library on his way home, and followed by the 
 extraordinary outburst of wounded feeling and 
 pathetic remonstrance, which, by the kind per- 
 mission of Mr. Ernest Coleridge, I here print in 
 extenso. It is written as closely as possible on a 
 sheet of paper of the very largest size, larger than 
 ordinary foolscap ; and, it may be observed, it 
 was one of the few papers kept back by Poole 
 when, in 1835 or 1836, he placed the greater 
 number of the letters he had received from S. T. 
 Coleridge at the disposal of his family for bio- 
 graphical purposes. 
 
 Perhaps the vivid picture, undesignedly given 
 here, of a man of genius, endowed with high and 
 singular gifts, and intended to be a leader of 
 national thought, face to face with the narrowest 
 penury, whilst inexperienced as a child in the 
 ordinary concerns of life, may go some way to 
 explain, if it cannot excuse, the inconsistencies and 
 shortcomings which wrecked his later career. It 
 illustrates also the sensitive excitability and vehe- 
 ment impulsiveness which doubtless caused him 
 to be the more beloved by those who loved him ; 
 
1 84 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xi 
 
 but must, also, have often tried the patience, even 
 of those who loved him best. 
 
 The first letter ^ begins tranquilly enough : — ■ 
 
 ' You tell me, my dear Poole, that my residence near 
 you would give you great pleasure, and, I am sure, that 
 if you had any objections on your own account to my 
 settling near Stowey, you would have mentioned them to 
 me. Relying on this, I assure you that a disappointment 
 would try my philosophy. Your letter did indeed give 
 me unexpected and most acute pain. I will make the 
 cottage do. We want but three rooms. . . . 
 
 ' As to Acton, it is out of the question. In Bristol I 
 have Cottle and Estlin (for Mr. Wade is going away) 
 willing and eager to serve me ; but how they can serve 
 me more effectually at Acton than at Stowey, I cannot 
 divine. If I live at Stowey, you indeed can serve me 
 effectually, by assisting me in the acquirement of agri- 
 cultural practice. If you can instruct me to manage an 
 acre and a half of land, and to raise on it, with my own 
 hands, all kinds of vegetables and grain, enough for 
 myself and my wife, and sufficient to feed a pig or two 
 with the refuse, I hope that you will have served me 
 most effectually, by placing me out of the necessity of 
 being served. . . . 
 
 ' But whence this sudden revolution in your opinions, 
 my dear Poole ? You saw the cottage that was to be our 
 temporary residence, and thought we might be happy in 
 it, and now you hurry to tell me that we shall not even 
 be comfortable in it. You tell me I shall be so far from 
 my friends, i.e. Cotde and Estlin, for I have no other 
 ^ Undated. Endorsed December 12, 1796. 
 
1796 SIX COMPANIONS 185 
 
 in Bristol. In the name of heaven, what can Cottle or 
 Estlin [do] for me ? They do nothing who do not teach 
 me how to be independent of any except the Almighty 
 Dispenser of sickness and health. . . . My habits and 
 feelings have suffered a total alteration. I hate company, 
 except of my dearest friends, and systematically avoid 
 it, and when in it keep silence as far as social humanity 
 will permit me. Lloyd's father, in a letter to me 
 yesterday, inquired how I should live without any com- 
 panions ? I answered him, not an hour before I received 
 your letter : — 
 
 ' " I shall have six companions : my Sara, my babe, 
 my own shaping and disquisitive mind, my books, my 
 beloved friend Thomas Poole, and lastly, Nature, looking 
 at me in a thousand looks of beauty, and speaking to 
 me with a thousand melodies of love. If I were capable 
 of being tired with all these, I should then detect a vice 
 in my nature, and would fly to habitual solitude to 
 eradicate it." 
 
 ' Yes ! my friend ! while I opened your letter my heart 
 was glowing with enthusiasm towards you. How little 
 did I expect to find you earnestly and vehemently 
 persuading me to prefer Acton to Stowey ! . . . 
 
 ' On Wednesday week we must leave our house, so that 
 if you continue to dissuade me from settling near Stowey, 
 I scarcely know what I shall do. Surely, my beloved 
 friend ! there must be some reason which you have not 
 yet told me which urged you to send this hasty and 
 heart-chilling letter. I suspect that something has passed 
 between your sister and dear mother, in whose illness I 
 sincerely sympathise with you. I have never considered 
 my settlement at Stowey in any other relation than its 
 
1 86 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xi 
 
 advantages to myself, and they would be great indeed. 
 My objects (assuredly wise ones) are to learn agriculture 
 (and where should I get instruction except at Stowey ?) 
 and to be where I can communicate in a literary way. 
 I must conclude. I pray you let me hear from you 
 immediately. God bless you and 
 
 'S. T. Coleridge.' 
 
 There is a tone of rising passion in the latter 
 part of this letter, which gathered volume as he 
 hurried homewards, and poured out its full tide 
 when, later in the evening, he again snatched pen 
 and paper, and began a second time to write a 
 reply to Poole.^ 
 
 'Monday night. 
 
 ' I wrote the former letter immediately on receipt of 
 your's, in the first flutter of agitation. The tumult of 
 my spirits has now subsided, but the Damp struck into 
 my very Heart ; and there I feel it. O my God 1 my 
 God ! when am I to find rest ! Disappointment follows 
 disappointment, and Hope seems given me merely to 
 prevent my becoming callous to Misery ! Now I know 
 not where to turn myself. I was on my way to the City 
 Library, when I found your letter at the Post-office — I 
 opened it at the Library, and wrote an answer to it there. 
 Since I have returned I have been poring into a book, as 
 a shew for not looking at my Wife and the Baby. By 
 God, I dare not look at them. Acton ! The very name 
 makes me grind my teeth ! What am I to do there ? 
 
 ' " You will have a good Garden ; you may, I doubt 
 
 ^ Postmark Bristol. Endorsed December 12, 1796. 
 
1796 AN AGONY OF DISAPPOINTMENT 187 
 
 not, have ground." But am I not ignorant as a child 
 of everything that concerns the garden and the ground ? 
 And shall I have one human being there who will instruct 
 me? The House too — what should I do with it? We want 
 but two rooms, or three at the furthest. And the country 
 around is intolerably flat. I would as soon live on the 
 banks of a Dutch canal ! And no one human being 
 near me for whom I should, or could, care a rush ! No 
 one walk where the beauties of nature might endear 
 solitude to me ! There is one Ghost that I am afraid 
 of; with that I should be perpetually haunted in this 
 same cursed Acton — the hideous Ghost of departed 
 Hope. O Poole ! how could you make such a proposal 
 to me ? I have compelled myself to reperuse your letter, 
 if by any means I may be able to penetrate into your 
 motives. I find three reasons assigned for my not 
 settling at Stowey. The first, the distance from my 
 friends, and the Press. This I answered in the former 
 letter. As to my friends, what can they do for me ? 
 And as to the Press, even if Cottle had not promised to 
 correct it for me, yet I might as well be fifty miles from 
 it as twelve, for any purpose of correcting. Secondly, the 
 expense of moving. Well, but I must move to Acton, 
 and what will the difference be ? Perhaps three guineas. 
 ... I would give three guineas that you had not 
 assigned this reason. Thirdly, the wretchedness of that 
 cottage, which alone we can get. But, surely, in the 
 house which I saw, two rooms may be found, which, by 
 a little green list and a carpet, and a slight alteration in 
 the fireplace, may be made to exclude the cold : and 
 this is all we want. Besides, it will be but for a while. 
 If Cruikshank cannot buy and repair Adscombe, I have 
 
i88 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xi 
 
 no doubt that my friends here and at Birmingham would, 
 some of them, purchase it. So much for the reasons : 
 but these cannot be the real reasons. I was with you 
 for a week, and then we talked over the whole scheme, 
 and you approved of it, and I gave up Derby. More than 
 nine weeks have elapsed since then, and you saw and 
 examined the cottage, and you knew every other of these 
 reasons, if reasons they can be called. Surely, surely, 
 my friend ! something has occurred which you have not 
 mentioned to me. Your mother has manifested a strong 
 dislike to our living near you — or something or other — 
 for the reasons you have assigned tell me nothing except 
 that there are reasons which you have not assigned. 
 
 ' Pardon if I write vehemently. I meant to have 
 written calmly ; but bitterness of soul came upon me. 
 Mrs. Coleridge has observed the workings of my face 
 while I have been writing, and is intreating to know what 
 is the matter. I dread to shew her your letter. I dread 
 it. My God ! my God ! what if she should dare to think 
 that my most beloved friend has grown cold towards me ! 
 
 '■Tuesday morning, ii d clock. — After an unquiet 
 and almost sleepless night, I resume my pen. As the 
 sentiments over leaf came from my heart, I will not sup- 
 press them. I would keep a letter by me which I wrote 
 to a mere acquaintance, lest anything unwise should be 
 found in it — but my friend ought to know not only 
 what my sentiments are, but what my feelings were. 
 
 ' I am, indeed, perplexed and cast down. My first 
 plan, you know, was this — My family was to have con- 
 sisted of Charles Lloyd, my wife and wife's mother, my 
 infant, the servant, and myself. 
 
 ' My means of maintaining them — Eighty pound a 
 
1796 'WHAT AM I TO DO THEN?' 189 
 
 year from Charles Lloyd, and forty from the Review and 
 Magazine : my time was to have been divided into four 
 parts. I. Three hours after breakfast to studies with 
 C. LI. 2. The remaining hours till dinner to our Garden. 
 3. From after dinner till tea, to Letter-writing and 
 domestic quietness. 4. From tea till prayer-time to the 
 Reviews, Magazines, and other Literary Labors. 
 
 ' In this plan I calculated nothing on my garden but 
 amusement. In the meantime I heard from Birmingham 
 that Lloyd's father had declared that he should insist on 
 his son's returning to him at the close of one twelvemonth. 
 What am I to do then ? I shall be again afloat on the 
 wide sea, unpiloted and unprovisioned. I determined 
 to devote my whole day to the acquirement of practical 
 horticulture, to part with Lloyd immediately, and live 
 without a servant. Lloyd intreated me to give up the 
 Review and Magazine, and devote the evenings to him, 
 but this would be to give up a permanent for a temporary 
 situation, and after subtracting £,\o from C. Ll.'s ^80 
 in return for the Review business, and then calculating 
 the expense of a Servant, a less severe mode of general 
 living, and Lloyd's own Board and Lodging, the remaining 
 ;^4o would make but a poor figure. And what was I 
 to do at the end of the twelvemonth ? In the meantime 
 Mrs. Fricker's son could not be got out as an apprentice — 
 he was too young, and premiumless, and no one would 
 take him ; and the old lady herself manifested a great 
 aversion to leaving Bristol. I recurred therefore to my 
 first promise of allowing her ;^2 a year; but all her 
 furniture must of course be returned, and enough only 
 remains to furnish one bedroom and a kitchen-parlour. 
 
 ' If Charles Lloyd and the servant went with me 
 
igo THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xi 
 
 I must have bought new furniture to the amount 
 of ;^4o or jCs°> which, if not ImpossibiHty in per- 
 son, was ImpossibiUty's first cousin. We determined 
 to live by ourselves. We arranged our time, money, 
 and employments. We found it not only practic- 
 able, iuf easy — and Mrs. Coleridge entered with en- 
 thusiasm into the scheme. To Mrs. Coleridge the 
 nursing and sewing only would have belonged ; the rest 
 I took upon myself, and since our resolution have been 
 learning the practice. With only two rooms and two 
 people — their wants severely simple — no great labour 
 can there be in their waiting upon themselves. Our 
 washing we should put out. I should have devoted my 
 whole Head, Heart, and Body to my Acre and a half of 
 garden land, and my evenings to Literature. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Estlin approved, admired, and applauded the 
 scheme, and thought it not only highly virtuous, but 
 highly prudent. In the course of a year and a half I 
 doubt not that I should feel myself independent, for my 
 bodily strength would have increased, and I should have 
 been weaned from animal food, so as never to touch it but 
 once a week ; and there can be no shadow of a doubt 
 that an acre and a half of land, divided properly, and 
 managed properly, would maintain a small family in 
 everything but cloathes and rent. What had I to ask of 
 my friends ? Not money — for a temporary relief of my 
 wants is nothing, removes no gnawing of anxiety, and 
 debases the dignity of the Man. Not their interest — what 
 could their interest (supposing they had any) do for me ? 
 I can accept no place in State, Church, or Dissenting 
 Meeting. Nothing remains possible but a School, or 
 Writer to a newspaper, or my present plan. I could not 
 
1796 'YOUR LETTER WAS NOT A KIND ONE' 191 
 
 love the man who advised me to keep a school, or write 
 for a newspaper. He must have a hard heart ! What 
 then could I ask of my friends ? What of Mr. Wade ? 
 Nothing. What of Mr. Cottle ? Nothing. . . . What of 
 Thomas Poole ? Ola great deal. Instruction, daily 
 advice, society — everything necessary to my feelings 
 and the realization of my innocent independance. You 
 know it would be impossible for me to learn everything 
 myself To pass across my garden once or twice a day, 
 for five minutes, to set me right, and cheer me with the 
 sight of a friend's face, would be more to me than hun- 
 dreds. Your letter was not a kind one. One week only 
 and I must leave my house, and yet in one week you 
 advise me to alter the plan which I had been three 
 months forming, and in which you must have known by 
 the letters I wrote you, during my illness, that I was 
 interested even to an excess and violence of Hope. And 
 to abandon this plan for darkness, and a renewal of 
 anxieties which might be fatal to me ! Not one word 
 have you mentioned how I am to live, or even exist, 
 supposing I were to go to Acton. Surely, surely, you do 
 not advise me to lean with the whole weight of my 
 necessities on the Press ? Ghosts indeed ! I should be 
 haunted with Ghosts enough — the Ghosts of Otway and 
 Chatterton, and the phantasms of a wife broken-hearted, 
 and a hunger-bitten Baby ! O Thomas Poole ! Thomas 
 Poole ! if you did but know what a Father and a Husband 
 must feel who toils with his brain for uncertain bread ! 
 I dare not think of it The evil face of Frenzy looks at 
 me. The Husbandman puts his seed in the ground, and 
 the goodness, power, and wisdom of God have pledged 
 themselves that he shall have Bread, and Health, and 
 
192 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xi 
 
 quietness in return for industry, and simplicity of wants, 
 and innocence. The author scatters his seed — with 
 aching head, and wasted health, and all the heart-leapings 
 of anxiety ; and the folly, the vices, and the fickleness 
 of man promise him Printers' Bills and the Debtors' 
 Side of Newgate as full and sufficient payment. 
 
 ' Charles Lloyd is at Birmingham. I hear from him 
 daily. In his yesterday's letter he says : " My dearest 
 friend ! everything seems clearing around me. My friends 
 enter fully into my views. They seem altogether to 
 have abandoned any ambitious views on my account. 
 My health has been very good since I left you ; and I 
 own I look forward with more pleasure than ever to 
 a permanent connection with you. Hitherto I could 
 only look forward to the pleasures of a year. All beyond 
 was dark and uncertain. My father now completely 
 acquiesces in my abandoning the prospect of any 
 Profession or Trade. If God grant me health, there now 
 remains no obstacle to a completion of my most sanguine 
 wishes." Charles Lloyd will furnish his oXvn Room, and 
 feels it his duty to be in all things his own servant. He 
 will put up a Press-bed, so that one room will be his 
 bedchamber and parlour ; and I shall settle with him the 
 hours and seasons of our being together, and the hours 
 and seasons of our being apart. But I shall rely on him 
 for nothing except his own maintenance. 
 
 ' As to the Poems, they are Cottle's property, not mine. 
 There is no obstacle from me — no new poems intended 
 to be put in the volume, except the " Visions of the Maid 
 of Orleans." . . . But Literature, though I shall never 
 abandon it, will always be a secondary object with me. 
 My poetic Vanity and my political Furor have been ex- 
 
1796 ' VERY MISERABLE ' 193 
 
 haled ; and I would rather be an expert, self-maintaining 
 Gardener than a Milton, if I could not unite both. 
 
 '■My Friend, wherein I have written impetuously, 
 pardon me ! and consider what I have suffered, and 
 still am suffering, in consequence of your letter. . . . 
 Finally, my Friend I if your opinion of me, and your 
 attachment to me, re7nain unaltered, and if you have 
 assigned the true Reasons which urged you to dissuade 
 me from a settlement at Stowey, and if indeed [provided 
 such settlement were consistent with my good and happiness^ 
 it would give you unmixed Pleasure, I adhere to Stowey, 
 and consider the time from last Evening as a distempered 
 Dream. But if any circumstances have occurred that have 
 lessened your Love, or Esteem, or Confidence ; or if there be 
 objections to my settling in Stowey on your own account, or 
 any other objections than what you have urged, I doubt 
 not you will declare them opetily and unreservedly to me, 
 in your answer to this, which I shall expect with a total 
 incapability of doing, or thinking of, anything, till I have 
 received it. Indeed, indeed, I am very miserable. God 
 bless you and your affectionate 
 
 'S. T. Coleridge. 
 
 ' Tuesday, December 13, 1796-' 
 
 The italics are S. T. C.'s, as is also the em- 
 ployment of capital letters as a minor means of 
 conveying emphasis. 
 
 There is a passage in Cottle's Reminiscences 
 
 which would lead one to suspect that some of 
 
 Coleridge's Bristol friends were a little aggrieved 
 
 at the prospect of losing him, just when a hope 
 
 VOL. I O 
 
194 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xi 
 
 had dawned that he really was settled among 
 them. He had removed from Redcliff Hill to a 
 more comfortable house at Kingsdown. Charles 
 Lloyd was to live with him, and to ' contribute 
 liberally ' to the expenses of the household. 
 ' Friends were kind and numerous. Books of all 
 kinds were at his command. Of the literary 
 society in Bristol he had expressed himself in 
 terms of warm approval' This, Cottle thought, 
 ' looked like permanence,' and if ' the promise was 
 fallacious,' whose was the fault but Mr. Poole's, 
 who, ' desirous of obtaining Mr. C. as a neighbour,' 
 had ' recommended him to take a small house at 
 Nether Stowey, then to be let at seven pounds a 
 year, which he thought would well suit him.' 
 
 It may be that representations may have been 
 addressed to Tom Poole, by Cottle and others, 
 desiring him to consider whether, in encouraging 
 his friend to settle in Stowey, he was advising him 
 for his good, and enumerating all the advantages 
 he would lose by leaving Bristol, and that the 
 epistle which threw Coleridge into such indignant 
 grief, the ' hasty and heart-chilling letter,' was 
 simply the result of some such remonstrances 
 having awakened in Tom Poole's mind a sense 
 that it was a duty to put the reverse side of the 
 question very emphatically before his friend's mind. 
 It is also possible that he was himself uneasy at 
 
1796 LET HIM HAVE HIS WAY 195 
 
 the impracticable nature of Coleridge's plan for 
 living by the labour of his hands, and dreaded the 
 disappointment certain to arise should he ever 
 attempt to realise it. Or else, as Coleridge thought 
 for he tosses all the apparent objections aside like 
 cobwebs, and fastens upon the point that there is 
 certainly something else which has not been 
 allowed to appear — something had been said or 
 done in Stowey to make Tom Poole anxious and 
 doubtful whether Coleridge had better come at all. 
 Seeing, however, that his whole heart was ardently 
 fixed upon this one thing, what could Poole do 
 but just let him have his way, and give all the 
 help he could ? 
 
 The latest letter of the year ^ is written by S. T. 
 Coleridge as it were in the very act of starting for 
 Bristol : — 
 
 ' My dear Poole — I wrote to you with improper 
 impetuosity; but I had been dwelling so long on the 
 circumstance of living near you, that my mind was 
 thrown by your letter into the feelings of those distressful 
 dreams where we imagine ourselves falling from precipices. 
 I seemed falling from the summit of my fondest desires, 
 whirled from the height just as I had reached it. 
 
 ' We shall want none of the Woman's furniture ; we 
 have enough for ourselves. What with Boxes of Books, 
 and Chests of Drawers, and Kitchen Furniture, and Chairs, 
 and our Bed and Bed-linen, etc., we shall have enough to 
 
 ' Undated. Endorsed December 1796. 
 
196 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xi 
 
 fill a small Waggon, and to-day I shall make inquiry among 
 my trading acquaintance whether it would be cheaper 
 to hire a Waggon to take them straight to Stowey, than 
 to put them in the Bridgwater Waggon. Taking in the 
 double trouble and expence of putting them in the Drays 
 to carry them to the public Waggon, and then seeing 
 them packed again, and again to be unpacked and 
 packed at Bridgwater, I much question whether our 
 goods would be good for anything. 
 
 ' I am very poorly, not to say ill. My face monstrously 
 swollen ; my recondite eye sits quaintly behind the 
 flesh-hill, and looks as little as a tomtit's. And I have 
 a sore throat that prevents me eating aught but spoon- 
 meat without great pain. And I have a rheumatic 
 complaint in the back part of my head and shoulders. 
 Now all this demands a small portion of Christian 
 patience, taking in our present circumstances. My 
 Apothecary says it will be madness for me to walk to 
 Stowey on Tuesday, as, in the furious zeal of a new Con- 
 vert to Economy, I had resolved to do. My wife will 
 stay a week or fortnight after me ; I think it not im- 
 probable that the weather may break up by that time. 
 However, if I do not get worse, I will be with you by 
 Wednesday or Thursday at the furthest, so as to be there 
 before the Waggon. Is there any grate in the house ? 
 I should think we might Rumfordize one of the chimneys. 
 I shall bring down with me a dozen yards of green list. 
 I can endure cold, but not a cold room. If we can 
 but contrive to make two rooms warm and wholesome, 
 we will laugh in the faces of Gloom and Ill-lookingness. 
 
 ' I shall lose the post if I say a word more. You 
 thoroughly and in every nook and corner of your heart 
 
1796-97 COLERIDGE COMES TO LIVE AT STOWEY 197 
 
 forgive me for my letters ? Indeed, indeed, Poole ! I 
 know no one whom I esteem more— no one friend whom 
 I love so much. But bear with my Infirmities ! God 
 bless you, and your grateful and affectionate 
 
 ' S. T. Coleridge. 
 
 ' Sunday Morning' \_? December 18, 1796]. 
 
 ' He commenced his residence in Nether Stowey, 
 according to this letter,' is the entry opposite No. 
 1 7 in Mr. Thomas Poole's catalogue. It was in 
 all probability in the Christmas week of 1796. 
 
THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xii 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 ' . . . Beside one friend, 
 Beneath the impervious covert of one oak, 
 I've raised a lowly shed, and know the names 
 Of husband and of father ; not unhearing 
 Of that divine and nightly-whispering voice 
 Which, from my childhood to maturer years, 
 Spake to me of predestinated wreaths 
 Bright with no fading colours ! ' 
 
 Coleridge {May 26, 1797). 
 
 In after years, when the Coleridge family had 
 removed to the north of England, and Coleridge 
 himself had drifted gradually into an almost com- 
 plete cessation of intercourse with his oldest friends, 
 it began to be a custom that Mrs. Coleridge should, 
 as often at least as once a year, take pen in hand 
 and write a long letter to Mr. Tom Poole, entering 
 into the minutest details concerning her children 
 and surroundings, and always giving the latest in- 
 telligence in her possession of her husband's state 
 of health and spirits. These letters were evidently 
 a pleasure to her to write, and they were undoubt- 
 edly much valued by Mr. Poole, yet when the long 
 
1797 'A MISERABLE COTTAGE' 199 
 
 and closely -written sheet was finished, she often 
 seems to have been half inclined to question whether 
 such very domestic records were really worth post- 
 ing, and she frequently ends with a kind of apology 
 for sending them, somewhat after the fashion of 
 the following extract from a letter written in April 
 I 8 1 9, which is inserted here because of the allusion 
 to the home at Stowey into which S. T. Coleridge 
 had installed himself and his family, with such a 
 passion of high-wrought expectation and eager 
 enthusiasm in the last days of 1796 : — 
 
 ' Dear Mr. Poole,' she writes, at the close of a long 
 letter, overflowing with joy at Hartley's election to the 
 Oriel Fellowship, and full of details about Derwent and 
 Sara, ' I scarcely could have ventured this long and 
 egotistical epistle, if I could ever forget that he whom I 
 address is the same person who, in days long past, made 
 so many and so friendly exertions to render a miserable 
 cottage an abode of comparative comfort' 
 
 Let us hope that that zealous assistance, together 
 with the sweet-tempered acquiescence of Charles 
 Lloyd in the ' inconveniences of cottage accommo- 
 dation,' and ' his gentleness to little Hartley,' ^ may 
 have sufficiently comforted the young mistress of 
 the house to prevent her from disappointing her 
 husband by too complete a want of sympathy. Cer- 
 tainly it would seem so, from the joyful little note 
 
 ^ See Biographical Supplement. 
 
200 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xii 
 
 to Cottle {Early Recollections, 1837, i. 188), un- 
 dated, as Coleridge's letters usually are/ but which 
 must have been written in January 1797. To 
 another friend ^ he writes : — 
 
 ' We are very happy, and my little David Hartley 
 grows a sweet boy. ... I raise potatoes and all 
 manner of vegetables ; have an orchard ; and shall raise 
 corn (with the spade) enough for my family. We have 
 two pigs, and ducks and geese. A cow would not 
 answer to keep ; for we have whatever milk we want 
 from T. Poole.' 
 
 Nevertheless, Mrs. Coleridge was not altogether 
 wrong when she remembered the house as a 
 ' miserable cottage,' and, indeed, the day was not 
 far distant when Coleridge himself would write of 
 it as ' the old hovel.' It is now transformed into 
 a small public-house, and, even thus, it is a better 
 and larger house than it was when Coleridge 
 inhabited it, for its size has been increased by the 
 addition of a miscellaneous block of building at 
 the back. In Coleridge's time it would seem to 
 have consisted of two small and rather dark little 
 parlours, one on each side of the front-door, look- 
 
 ^ Fortunately Mr. Poole was in the habit of endorsing all those 
 which he received with the date of the month and the year in which 
 he received them. Later on he had such letters, or parts of letters, 
 as were of general interest copied into a book by Thomas Ward. 
 This book was, I believe, given by him to the Coleridge family after 
 S. T. C. 's death. 
 
 ^ Thelwall, February 6, 1797. 
 
1797 COMMUNICATION WITH POOLE'S GARDEN 201 
 
 ing straight into the street, and a small kitchen 
 behind, wholly destitute of modern conveniences, 
 and where the fire was made on the hearth in the 
 most primitive manner conceivable. There cannot 
 have been more than three, or, at most, four bed- 
 rooms above. The back-door gave access to a long 
 strip of kitchen garden, along the bottom of which 
 was the lane through which the communication 
 into Tom Poole's garden, which ran down from 
 another part of the town into the same lane, was 
 effected. That a man of a strongly meditative 
 turn, and whose chief occupations were study and 
 composition, should adventure himself with a wife, 
 a young baby, and a boarder, into a house which 
 offered no practicable means of securing to himself 
 any private retreat, where he could enjoy freedom 
 from interruption, and whose close neighbourhood 
 to the street must have brought with it a good deal 
 of quite unavoidable noise and disturbance, reads 
 like the height of rashness ; and we have, besides, 
 to remember that, small as the cottage might be, 
 and slender as were the resources of the family, 
 they were rarely without visitors, who followed one 
 another in a constant succession of distinguished 
 names. 
 
 But then there was always Tom Poole's house 
 close at hand, with the quiet ' Book-room' upstairs, 
 where Coleridge could always take refuge ; or, if 
 
202 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xii 
 
 the weather permitted working out of doors, there 
 was the 'Jasmine //arbour,' in Tom Poole's garden, 
 celebrated by Cottle as the scene of that idyllic 
 feast on ' bread and cheese and true Taunton ale,' 
 when there seemed to be ' downright witchery in 
 the provisions,' every one was so happy; and pretty 
 young Mrs. Coleridge, coming out to join them 
 with her boy in her arms, appeared like a poetic 
 embodiment of the idea of Woman, bringing with 
 her the ' smile of home ' to complete the charm 
 of that delicious day. I do not think that rustic 
 arbour was, in itself, a particularly romantic spot, 
 but Coleridge so delighted in it that he called it 
 his ' Elysium.' In the copy of the first edition of 
 his Poems, which he gave Tom Poole on April 1 1 , 
 1796, the following allusion is to be found in a 
 few lines written by him in the first page, where, 
 after saying that he sends his poems to Tom Poole 
 with a better heart than he should to most others, 
 because he knows that he will read them with 
 affection, he adds — 
 
 ' I love to shut my eyes, and bring up before my 
 imagination that Arbour, in which I have repeated 
 so many of these compositions to you. Dear Arbour ! 
 An Elysium to which I have often passed by your Cer- 
 berus, and Tartarean tan-pits ! ' 
 
 So the experiment of living at Stowey was by 
 no means a failure, though it worked out, as many 
 
1797 GOD PROSPER THE EXPERIMENT 203 
 
 experiments do, quite differently from the antici- 
 pations and intentions of the projector. But then 
 it must be allowed that Coleridge's scheme of life 
 and labour had been a perfectly impracticable 
 one, and Tom Poole was not the only person who 
 had misgivings. ' You seem to have set your 
 heart upon this same cottage plan ; and God 
 prosper you in the experiment ! ' wrote Charles 
 Lamb to his old schoolfellow on October 28, 
 1796.-'^ And when the removal from Bristol is 
 an accomplished fact, he sends his congratulations, 
 wishes success to all Coleridge's projects, and ' bids 
 fair peace ' be to that house ; but still — 
 
 ' Do, in your next letter,' he adds a little later, 
 ' and that right soon, give me some satisfaction respecting 
 your present situation in Stowey. Is it a farm you have 
 got ? And what does your worship know about farming ? ' 
 
 What indeed ? But, in truth, what became of 
 the farming and gardening part of Coleridge's 
 plan may be easily judged from the well-known 
 anecdote in his Table Talk (July 27, 1830). 
 
 ' Thelwall thought it very unfair to influence a child's 
 mind by inculcating any opinions before it should come 
 to years of discretion, and be able to choose for itself. I 
 showed him my garden, and told him it was my botanical 
 garden. " How so ? " said he ; " it is covered with weeds." 
 " Oh," I replied, " that is only because it has not yet 
 
 ' Talfourd's Letters of C. Lamb. 
 
204 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xii 
 
 come to its age of discretion and choice. The weeds, 
 you see, have taken the liberty to grow, and I thought 
 it unfair in me to prejudice the soil towards roses and 
 strawberries." ' 
 
 How Thelwall must have laughed to himself 
 if he remembered a certain letter ^ in which Cole- 
 ridge had described himself as getting up before 
 breakfast to work in his garden from seven to 
 half-past eight — that is to say, before sunrise in the 
 chilly month of February ! But that, if it were 
 anything more than an over-confident forecast of 
 unaccomplished intentions, certainly betokened a 
 zeal too extravagant for continuance. 
 
 It was not till almost the end of the time of 
 roses, and long after the time of strawberries, that 
 Thelwall first made his appearance in Stowey, 
 thereby exciting no little commotion in the minds 
 of many, and reviving all the prejudices against 
 Tom Poole's literary friends as Jacobins and 
 Atheists, which had become fixed in the general 
 mind by that unlucky and oft-repeated anecdote 
 of the remarks of isti duo ignoti, now certainly no 
 longer ignoti, upon the death of Robespierre. 
 Thelwall was, of course, drawn thither by the 
 presence of Coleridge, with whom he had been for 
 some time in correspondence, though they had 
 never met. The fact that Thelwall had suffered 
 
 ' Coleridge to Thelwall, February 6, 1797. Mr. Cosens' Collection. 
 
1797 THELWALL APPEARS ON THE SCENE 205 
 
 imprisonment for his political utterances, and that 
 he was even then — to use his own word/ which is 
 not at all too vehement for the occasion — being 
 ' hunted from society ' by a social persecution of 
 a very unrelenting kind, had strongly excited 
 Coleridge's sympathies, and his letters abound 
 with the most cordial overtures of friendship, 
 though without any attempt to disguise that on 
 the great question of religion their convictions 
 are wide as the poles asunder. When a com- 
 plete edition of Coleridge's best letters comes 
 to be published, perhaps few will be read with 
 deeper admiration than one written from Bristol in 
 December 1796, in which Coleridge remonstrates 
 with Thelwall for having spoken contemptuously of 
 the Christian religion, and charges him with anti- 
 religious bigotry. And yet — 
 
 ' I write freely, Thelwall ! ' he says, ' for though per- 
 sonally unknown, I really love you, and I can count but 
 few human beings whose hand I would welcome with a 
 more hearty grasp of friendship. . . .' 
 
 And though he does show how unworthy of 
 any man who can think and feel is the attitude of 
 contempt towards the convictions of others, he is 
 not so much eager to prove an opponent in the 
 wrong as he is to set forth, with all the glow and 
 fervour of a believing heart, the glory and beauty 
 
 "■ Prefatory Memoir to the ' Fairy of the Lake,' by John Thelwall. 
 
2o6 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xii 
 
 of the Christian hope, the loftiness and purity of 
 the Christian standard of morals. 
 
 Thelwall had given up politics, and was 
 anxiously in search of some peaceful retreat, 
 where he might make, ' if not a comfortable, at 
 least a quiet establishment for his encreasing 
 family ' ; and it may not be irrelevant to remark 
 that he was ' particularly happy ' in his ' domestic ' 
 relations. His ' Stella ' has been described as 
 the ' good angel of his life,' and the friends at 
 Stowey admired in him not only ' a man of 
 extraordinary talent,' but a most ' affectionate 
 husband and a good father.' Much more than in 
 the neighbourhood of Bristol, whence Coleridge 
 once wrote to him -^ — 
 
 ' we have an hundred lovely scenes about Bristol which 
 would make you exclaim, O admirable Nature! and 
 me, O Gracious God 1 ' 
 
 — did ' lovely scenes ' abound in the vicinity of 
 Stowey to make it very soon apparent that 
 ' Citizen Thelwall,' though ' brought up in the city 
 on a tailor's board,' was acutely sensible to that 
 beauty of ndture which was as the breath of life 
 itself to Wordsworth and Coleridge, to Lloyd and 
 to Thomas Poole ; and he could talk brilliantly, 
 and listen with appreciation, how was it possible 
 but that he should be often in their society, even 
 
 1 Coleridge to Thelwall, 1796. Mr. Cosens' Collection. 
 
1797 POOR GEORGE BURNETT 207 
 
 though he was opposed to many of their most 
 cherished opinions, and in such bad odour, both 
 theologically and politically, that they cultivated 
 his acquaintance at the peril of the many incon- 
 veniences involved in becoming objects of popular 
 suspicion ? 
 
 This, however, was later in the year. Cole- 
 ridge's first visitor, and a very frequent one, seems 
 to have been poor George Burnett — the wreck of 
 Pantisocracy, listless; disappointed, broken in spirit, 
 and utterly unable to turn his energies into some 
 more practical channel. He was the clever son 
 of a Somersetshire farmer, probably the very 
 'Mr. Burnett' who in March 1793 carried with 
 him up to Oxford a letter of introduction from 
 Tom Poole to his Cousin John : — 
 
 ' He comes to Oxford,' wrote Tom Poole, ' entirely 
 alone, and he will consider himself much obliged to 
 you if you will assist him on his entrance into the 
 University, and give him your advice respecting the 
 arrangements it will be necessary for him to make. . . . 
 He is a young man, I believe, of good dispositions and 
 good sense, and enters into his present line of life with 
 a full conviction that he has nothing to expect but from 
 his own merits. This I esteem a good groundwork on 
 which valuable acquisitions generally arise. . . . One 
 circumstance may be mentioned : he has some acquaint- 
 ance with Mr. White, Vicar of Huntspill, who, from 
 Burnett's account, will be very ready to lend him any 
 
2o8 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xii 
 
 assistance in his power, as I believe his father was one 
 of the few who did not molest Mr. White in his parish. 
 As Burnett designs entering at Baliol, Mr. W. may be 
 of some use to him. . . .' 
 
 Now the village of Huntspill lies between 
 Stowey and the Mendip Hills, and almost opposite 
 the ford at Combwich (Cummage, Coleridge 
 spells it), and the road to Bristol, whether from 
 Stowey, Bridgwater, or Huntspill, being across 
 the Mendips, nothing could be more easily within 
 probability than such an encounter as happened 
 to Coleridge once, when, ' during a pedestrian 
 excursion in Somersetshire,' he was asked by a 
 countrywoman whether he knew ' one Coleridge, 
 of Bristol,' and on answering that he had heard 
 of him, became the involuntary auditor of a violent 
 denunciation of himself as the 'vile Jacobin 
 villain ' whose pernicious eloquence had drawn 
 away ' a young man of our parish, one Burnett.' 
 
 Coleridge, appreciating the humour of the 
 situation, listened very particularly, said ' dear 
 me!' several times, and in fine, so 'won the 
 woman's heart by his civilities that he had not 
 the courage to undeceive her.' And yet, perhaps, 
 when it became more and more evident how little 
 Burnett possessed the necessary strength to re- 
 cover from a lost illusion, though neither Coleridge 
 nor Southey are to be blamed for his want of 
 
1797 THE COTTAGE OVERRUN WITH MICE 209 
 
 moral stamina, a time may have arrived when the 
 recollection of that country -wife's words cannot 
 have been without pain. 
 
 Presently Coleridge, absent in Bristol attending 
 to the publication of the joint volume in which 
 his own poems were to appear together with those 
 of Lamb and Lloyd, was recalled to Stowey by 
 the news that Burnett was ' very ill with jaundice,' 
 and returned to find him ' ill enough. Heaven 
 knows' — as he writes to Cottle (p. 141). 
 
 ' I wish,' he adds in a quaint postscript, ' my 
 pockets were as yellow as George's phiz.' 
 
 A smaller trouble, incidentally mentioned in 
 the same letter, is that the cottage is overrun 
 with mice, which, says Coleridge — 
 
 ' Play the very devil with us. It irks me to set a trap. By 
 all the whiskers of all the pussies that have mewed . . . 
 since the days of Whittington, it is not fair. 'Tis telling 
 a lie. 'Tis as if you said, " Here is a bit of toasted 
 cheese : come, little mice ! I invite you !" when (O, foul 
 breach of the rites of hospitality !) I mean to assassinate 
 my too credulous guests. No ! I cannot set a trap, but 
 I should vastly like to make a Pitt-fall (smoke the pun ?). 
 But, concerning the mice, advise thou, lest there be 
 famine in the land. Such a year of scarcity ! Incon- 
 siderate mice ! Well, well, so the world wags. . . .' 
 
 Sure proof that the stress of life has relaxed, 
 and that the whole man is, for the moment, at 
 VOL. I P 
 
2IO THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xii 
 
 ease and happy, when the spirit of fun awakes, 
 and he breaks forth into drolleries. This is a 
 special characteristic of Coleridge at Stowey, A 
 very small matter will set him off into some 
 grotesque joke, a gambol rather than a play of 
 wit, sometimes without much point, sometimes 
 extremely humorous, sometimes disfigured by a 
 mischievous and, as it were, elvish delight, in 
 shocking ears polite with coarse expressions. It 
 is curious to remember that in the character of 
 Hamlet, between whom and Coleridge it is no new 
 thing to trace the remarkable resemblance, there 
 is the same combination of a deep refinement of 
 nature, and a spirit that is most at home on the 
 rarest intellectual heights, with a fantastic inclina- 
 tion to the grotesque, giving us strange shocks of 
 astonishment at seemingly incongruous outbreaks 
 of irrelevant and superficial coarseness. Coleridge 
 not unfrequently jars upon the sensitiveness of a 
 severely exclusive taste in precisely the same way, by 
 some deliberately clumsy joke, unsavoury metaphor, 
 outrageous pun, or over-homely simile. The cause 
 is perhaps to be sought in an involuntary relax- 
 ation of nature, seeking relief from tension by an 
 antic or a caper. In after years the impulse passes 
 away, and men take their relaxation in silence, 
 but almost all vigorous natures have it in boyhood. 
 Here, for instance, is a grotesque gambol in 
 
1797 AN INVITATION TO DINNER 211 
 
 rhyme, scribbled on the back of a prospectus of 
 his own lectures, and addressed to T. Poole, one 
 day in January 1797.^ 
 
 ' Plucking flowers from the Galaxy ^ 
 On the pinions of Abstraction, 
 I did quite forget to ax 'e, 
 Whether you have an objaction. 
 With us to swill 'e and to swell 'e 
 And make a pigstie of your belly. 
 A lovely limb most dainty 
 Of a ci-devant Mud-raker, 
 I makes bold to acquaint 'e 
 We've trusted to the Baker ;^ 
 And underneath it satis 
 Of that subt^rrene apple 
 By the Erudite 'clep'd taties — 
 With which, if you'd wish to grapple, 
 As sure as I'm a sloven, 
 The Clock will not strike twice one, 
 When the Dish will be out of the Oven, 
 And the dinner will be a nice one.' 
 
 And WciO but Coleridge — or Hamlet — would 
 ever have used the following comparison in 
 speaking of some poems sent by him to Cottle ? — 
 
 ^ ' S. T. Coleridge proposes to give in six lectures a Comparative 
 View of the English Rebellion under Charles the First, and the 
 French Revolution.' 
 
 ^ Evidently a caricature of Poole's own line — 
 
 ' He's gone — for -us to cull celestial sweets 
 Amid the flow'rets of the milky way. " 
 ^ The ' miserable cottage ' did not possess an oven. 
 
212 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xii 
 
 ' ... If you do not like these verses, or if you do not 
 think them worthy of an edition in which I profess to 
 give nothing but my choicest fish, picked, gutted, and 
 cleaned, get somebody to write them out, and send them, 
 with my compliments, to the editor of the new Monthly 
 Magazine. ..." 
 
 During the early months of 1797, Coleridge 
 seems to have been often to and fro between 
 Bristol and Stowey ; and, at last, in May the 
 joint volume appeared, with, among other novelties, 
 the sonnets on the birth of Hartley, the lines on 
 leaving Clevedon, and the ' Dedication ' to his 
 brother George. Lamb's poems were dedicated 
 to his sister ; and the letter in which he asks 
 Coleridge's opinion upon this is so touching and 
 characteristic that I think most of my readers will 
 not be sorry to see it quoted here, though those 
 who are already acquainted with Lamb's letters 
 will remember it quite well : — ■ 
 
 ' . . . I have another sort of dedication,' Lamb writes, 
 ' for my few things, which I want to know if you approve 
 of, and can insert. I mean to inscribe them to my 
 sister. It will be unexpected, and it will give her plea- 
 sure ; or do you think it will look whimsical at all ? As 
 I have not spoke to her about it I can easily reject the 
 idea. But there is a monotony in the affections which 
 people living together, or, as we do now, very frequently 
 seeing each other, are apt to give in to ; a sort of indif- 
 ference in the expression of kindness for each other. 
 
1797 'CULTIVATE THE FILIAL FEELINGS' 213 
 
 which demands that we should sometimes call to our aid 
 the trickery of surprise. . . . 
 
 ' I am wedded, Coleridge, to the fortunes of my sister, 
 and of my poor old father. O, my friend ! I think 
 sometimes could I recall the days that are past, which 
 among them should I choose ? Not those " merrier 
 days," not the " pleasant days of hope," npt those 
 " wanderings with a fair-haired maid," which I have so 
 often and so feelingly regretted, but the days, Coleridge, 
 of a mother^ s fondness for her schoolboy. What would I 
 give to call her back to earth for one day ! — on my knees 
 to ask her pardon for all those little asperities of temper 
 which, from time to time, have given her gentle spirit 
 pain! — and the day, my friend, I trust will come. 
 There will be " time enough " for kind offices of love, 
 if " Heaven's eternal year " be ours. . . . O my friend, 
 cultivate the filial feelings ! and let no one think himself 
 released from the kind " charities " of relationship ; these 
 shall give him peace at the last ; these are the best 
 foundation for every species of benevolence. I rejoice to 
 hear . . . that you, my friend, are reconciled with all your 
 relations. 'Tis the most kindly and natural species of 
 love, and we have all the associated train of early feelings 
 to secure its strength and perpetuity. . . .' 
 
 Shy and sensitive, living always under the 
 shadow of a heavy family affliction, and almost 
 entirely isolated from any congenial companion- 
 ship except that of his sister, the friendship of 
 Coleridge was the chief treasure and embellish- 
 ment of Lamb's life, a life of much restraint 
 
214 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xii 
 
 and of many limitations, patiently accepted and 
 bravely endured. 
 
 '. . . Believe thou, O my soul, 
 Life is a vision shadowy of truth ; 
 And vice, and anguish, and the wormy grave, 
 Shapes of a dream . . . ' 
 
 were his favourite lines in the Religious Musings. 
 In after years he had many friends, and was, if we 
 may use the expression, free of the whole brother- 
 hood of literature ; but, in early manhood, the 
 appreciation and sympathy which were needed to 
 draw out those special gifts of fine taste and 
 delicate humour which were his by nature, came 
 to him from Coleridge alone ; and the relations 
 between them were peculiarly intimate and 
 affectionate. 
 
 '. . . You are the only correspondent, and, I might 
 add, the only friend I have in the world,' Lamb wrote ; 'I 
 go nowhere, and have no acquaintance. Slow of speech, 
 and reserved of manners, no one seeks or cares for my 
 society, and I am left alone. ... I can only converse 
 with you by letters, and with the dead in their books. 
 My sister, indeed, is all I can wish in a companion ; but 
 our spirits are alike poorly ; our reading and knowledge 
 from the self-same sources ; our communication with the 
 scenes of the world alike narrow. Never having kept 
 separate company, or any company together — never 
 having read separate books, and few books together — 
 what knowledge have we to convey to each other ? . . . 
 
1797 A VISIT FROM CHARLES LLOYD 215 
 
 ' I know I am too dissatisfied with the beings around 
 me, but I cannot help occasionally exclaiming, " Woe is 
 me that I am constrained to dwell with Meshech, and to 
 have my habitation among the tents of Kedar." ... I 
 gain nothing by being with such as myself. We en- 
 courage one another in mediocrity. I am always longing 
 to be with men more excellent than myself.' 
 
 So wrote Lamb in 1796-97 ; but before the 
 end of the latter year almost all Coleridge's closest 
 friends were his friends also. He had become 
 one of the Stowey set, as it may not incorrectly 
 be called, since Stowey was the centre of meeting, 
 his name to be henceforward inseparable from theirs, 
 and to be caricatured and celebrated, admired and 
 abused, as one of that much honoured, and much 
 vituperated company. The first extension of his 
 acquaintance in that direction was a visit from 
 Charles Lloyd, who, being in London in the winter 
 of 1797, called upon Lamb as a friend of 
 Coleridge's. Lloyd was deficient in humour, but he 
 had great refinement of literary taste and feeling; 
 his uncertain health and spirits were an appeal to 
 pity and sympathy, and his gentle, quiet manner 
 was very congenial to Lamb, who expressed his 
 pleasure at the unexpected visit in the verses — 
 
 ' Alone, obscure, without a friend, 
 A cheerless, solitary thing. 
 Why seeks my Lloyd the stranger out. 
 
2i6 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xii 
 
 AVhat offering can the stranger bring 
 Of social scenes, homebred delights, 
 That him in aught compensate may, 
 For Stowey's pleasant winter nights. 
 For loves and friendships far away ? ' 
 
 Of course Coleridge, least consecutive and 
 most parenthetical of mortals, did sometimes vex 
 Lamb's gentle, self- distrustful spirit, by unac- 
 countable intervals of silence ; but, as a rule, the 
 letters seem to have been just what Lamb's heart 
 and mind craved for. In 1797 they always 
 contained a pressing invitation to come with his 
 sister and visit Stowey ; but Lamb was but a 
 clerk in the India House, with a slender salary, 
 and one short annual holiday, of which he could 
 not himself fix the time. 
 
 ' I will come as soon as I can,' he wrote, ' but I dread 
 naming a probable time. It depends on fifty things, be- 
 sides the expense, which is not nothing. ... As to , 
 
 caprice may grant what caprice only refused, and it is no 
 more hardship, rightly considered, to be dependent on 
 him for pleasure, than to lie at the mercy of the rain 
 and sunshine for the enjoyment of a holiday. In either 
 case we are not to look for a suspension of the laws of 
 nature—" Grill will be Grill." Vide Spenser.^ . .' 
 
 Unless we are to consider the matter decided 
 by the date 'June 1797' prefixed to Coleridge's 
 
 ' Faery Queen, Book II. Canto xii. 
 
1797 LAMB AND HIS SISTER AT STOWEY 217 
 
 lines, ' This Lime-tree bower my prison,' it is a little 
 difficult to be sure at what particular period the 
 ' laws of nature ' relented, and Lamb got his 
 holiday ; for he, like Coleridge, was not in the 
 habit of dating his letters, and the one which 
 speaks of his visit to Stowey has been assigned 
 to the year 1 800, a manifestly impossible date. 
 From internal evidence it would seem to have 
 been written just before Thelwall's first appearance 
 on the scene, which we know to have been in 
 July 1797.1 
 
 ' I am scarcely yet so reconciled to the loss of you,' 
 Lamb writes, on his return to town, ' or so subsided 
 into my wonted uniformity of feeling, as to sit calmly 
 down to think of you and write to you. But I reason 
 myself into the belief that those few and pleasant 
 holidays shall not have been spent in vain. I feel 
 improvement in the recollection of many a casual con- 
 versation. The names of Tom Poole, of Wordsworth 
 and his good sister, with thine and Sara's, are become 
 " familiar in my mouth as household words." You 
 would make me very happy, if you think W. has no 
 objection, by transcribing for me that inscription of his.^ 
 I have some scattered sentences ever floating on my 
 memory, teasing me that I cannot remember more of it. 
 You may believe I will make no improper use of it. 
 
 1 Since the above was written Canon Ainger's edition of 
 Lamb's Letters has appeared, in which this question is definitely 
 settled. The visit took place in July. 
 
 "- This must have been the ' Lines left upon a Seat by a Yew-tree,' 
 Wordsworth's Poems (Edition 1858), vol. i. p. 38. 
 
2i8 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xii 
 
 Believe me I can think now of many subjects on. which I 
 had planned gaining information from you ; but I forgot 
 my " treasure's worth " while I possessed it. Your leg^ is 
 now become to me a matter of much more importance, 
 and many a little thing which, when I was present with 
 you, seemed scarce to ifident my notice, now presses 
 painfully on my remembrance. 
 
 ' Is the Patriot come yet ? Are Wordsworth and his 
 sister gone yet ? I was looking out for John Thelwall 
 all the way from Bridgwater, and had I met him I think 
 it would have moved me almost to tears. You will 
 oblige me, too, by sending me my greatcoat, which I left 
 behind in the oblivious state the mind is thrown into at 
 parting. Is it not ridiculous that I sometimes envy that 
 greatcoat lingering so cunningly behind ? At present I 
 have none, so send it to me by a Stowey waggon, if there 
 be such a thing, directing for C. L., No. 45 Chapel Street, 
 Pentonville, near London. But above all, that Inscription I 
 It will recall to me the tones of all your voices, and with 
 them many a remembered kindness to one who could 
 and can repay you all only by the silence of a grateful 
 heart. I could not talk much while I was with you, but 
 my silence was not sullenness, nor, I hope, from any bad 
 motive ; but, in truth, disuse has made me awkward at 
 it. I know I behaved myself, particularly at Tom 
 Poole's and at Cruikshanks',^ most like a sulky child ; 
 
 ^ See ' This Lime-tree bower my prison,' Coleridge's Poems. 
 
 ^ A son of Lord Egmont's agent, and known to Poole from boy- 
 hood. He and his wife lived at Stowey, and were pleasant, 
 good-natured young people, though with a taste for show and 
 expense which led to trouble later. Their garden had a gate into 
 the same lane into which the gardens both of Coleridge and of Poole 
 opened, and this led to frequent meetings and some intimacy. 
 
1797 A CRITICAL MOMENT IN HISTORY 219 
 
 but company and converse are strange to me. It was 
 kind in you all to endure me as you did. 
 
 ' Are you and your dear Sara — to me also very dear, 
 because very kind — agreed yet about the management 
 of little Hartley? And how go on the little rogue's 
 teeth? . . . 
 
 ' My love and thanks to you and all of you. 
 
 'C. L.' 
 
 It may be well to remind ourselves that this 
 year 1797 was a very critical moment in the 
 history of Europe, by transcribing the following 
 letter, written on May 10, to Poole's old friend 
 Purkis. It is rather a shock to realise that the 
 'joy' of which it is the expression must have 
 been for Napoleon's second victorious campaign in 
 Italy, and the Preliminaries of Leoben ; but then 
 Napoleon was not yet revealed as the Autocrat 
 of Europe, and we have to remember that, at this 
 stage, Tom Poole and his friends viewed the war 
 as an assault by Government upon the liberties 
 of the French people, and would rejoice at the 
 humiliation of Austria as a popular triumph. It 
 may be mentioned that the Battle of St. Vincent 
 had been fought in February ; Camperdown was 
 yet to come, in October. The mutiny at Spithead 
 had been suppressed in April, that of the Nore 
 was just breaking out. The country was strug- 
 gling with grave financial difficulties, and Ireland 
 
220 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS Chap, xii 
 
 was on the brink of a rebellion. Still it was 
 natural enough that those who had detested the 
 formation of the First Coalition should rejoice at 
 its overthrow. 
 
 ' My dear Friend — At the moment of the arrival of 
 your last letter, I was returned from Bridgwater Market, 
 and sitting in a meditative state of languor by one side 
 of the parlour fire, while my mother, Mr. and Mrs. King, 
 and a neighbour, were playing a rubber of whist at the 
 other. My mind had been in an anxious suspense for 
 the preceding week or ten days respecting the situation 
 of Buonaparte, which I deemed extremely critical. On 
 glancing over your letter an involuntary exclamation 
 arrested the attention of the card-table. I read aloud 
 as well as I could. It was indeed a letter such as no 
 man can hope to write, or to receive, more than once in 
 his life, and I do most cordially congratulate you on the 
 events there mentioned. They are in truth the seal of 
 the liberties of Europe. I sent for the Bard,^ and two or 
 three benevolent souls besides, and we read and re-read 
 till the heart overwhelmed was sad with joy. . . . 
 
 ' And now let us see the situation in which we are : 
 ist, our own internal state; 2d, our relation to France. 
 In England the earnest longings of one party for reforma- 
 tion complete and full, and the anticipations of the other, 
 which, in their own minds, amount almost to certainty, 
 lead, I think, inevitably to the consummation of the 
 event ; and these notions are not confined to the 
 speculative few, but pervade all ranks. Strange if it 
 were not so, since such active and opposite means are 
 ' S. T. Coleridge. 
 
1797 PICTURE OF IRELAND 221 
 
 abroad to induce men to think; events which fill the 
 heart ; incessant conversation ; books ; bat, above all, 
 the weight of government, which our ministry has cause 
 to touch and yark every individual where he never felt 
 it before. The soldiers, as I understand we shall hear 
 soon, and sailors are awakened ; they will no longer be 
 bUnd instruments. They must be convinced that they 
 have due recompense for their exertions, and that those 
 exertions are for the general good, and not for the sup- 
 port of the privileged. If this be the true state of 
 society in England, can the present order of things 
 continue to exist ? It would be a moral miracle if it did. 
 The aristocrats are mad not to give reformation in the 
 present plan of government, to save themselves and to 
 prevent revolution. The picture of Ireland is too 
 horrible to be contemplated. The system carried on 
 there might have done 500 years ago; but are the men 
 FOOLS? I really expect the French will get Ireland in 
 less than six months, if an instant change of measures 
 does not take place there. 
 
 ' As to our relations with France : will the French 
 make peace with us on any honourable terms ? 
 If they will, it will be an instance of their modera- 
 tion. If the war continue, they have nothing to 
 fear : they will grow rich by it ; they will, if they please, 
 retake their foreign possessions ; they will prey on our 
 commerce ; they will keep us in a continual state of 
 fever by their numerous armies. The only chance we 
 have is that at present they are satiated widi vulgar glory, 
 and that, if we would change our ministry, and place 
 men at the head of affairs in whom they could confide, 
 they would make peace in the spirit of peace, in a spirit 
 
222 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xii 
 
 to prevent wars between the two nations in future, and in 
 the world in general, and recall to Frenchmen those ideas 
 of EngHshmen which warmed their hearts at the opening 
 of the French Revolution. Such a connection, I do believe, 
 is yet possible ; but it must be by the annihilation, even 
 in thought, of those principles by which our Government 
 has been actuated during the present war. 
 
 ' I have room for no more. I will only add that I have 
 this minute heard of the fresh and dreadful disturbances at 
 Portsmouth. Why has not Parliament sanctioned what 
 was granted to the sailors? What I alluded to above 
 respecting the military was that I understand various 
 discontents exist among the subalterns respecting pay, 
 etc. . . . 
 
 ' The Bard is very well — but he must be the only 
 subject of a letter when I write of him particularly. . . .' 
 
 As an instance of the clash and conflict of 
 public opinion, this chapter shall conclude with an 
 extract from Charlotte Poole's journal : — 
 
 '■June 4, 1797. — The newspapers are filled with 
 melancholy news from the Fleet, which is still in a state 
 of mutiny, occasioned by the black contrivances of the 
 Democrats, who have got into the Fleet and poisoned 
 the minds of the sailors.' 
 
1797 'A WONDERFUL MAN' 223 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 M. Guizot avail essaye de caract^riser le XVIir*">= Siecle en 
 I'appelant, ' Un siecle de sympathie et de confiance, jeune et 
 presomptueuse, mais sincere et humaine, dont les sentiments 
 valaient mieux que les principes et les mceurs, qui a beaucoup 
 failli parcequ'il a trop cru en lui-meme, doutant d'ailleurs de 
 tout, mais pour qui il est permis d'esp^rer qu'un jour, quand ses 
 fautes paraitront suffisamment expiees, il lui sera beaucoup par- 
 donne parcequ'il a beaucoup aime.' — Histoire des idees morales 
 et politiques en France au XVIII''"" Siicle. Jules Barni. 
 
 The month of June, 1797, was a very notable 
 one in the life of S. T. Coleridge ; it was the 
 month of his visit to Racedown, and first begin- 
 nings of intimate friendship with Wordsworth and 
 his sister. Years afterwards, Wordsworth said 
 ' Coleridge is the only wonderful man that I ever 
 knew,' and the same epithet ' wonderful ' is used 
 to convey the impression made by him at their 
 first meeting. ' He is a wonderful man,' wrote 
 Dorothy Wordsworth ; ' his conversation teems 
 with soul, mind, and spirit.' At first she thought 
 him very plain — ' that is, for about three minutes ; ' 
 but let him once begin to speak and every other 
 
224 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xiii 
 
 feeling was soon forgotten in astonishment and 
 admiration. The one thing that everybody re- 
 membered about his countenance was that they 
 had never seen such eyes in any human face be- 
 fore — light gray eyes they were, ' large and full,' 
 with fine, dark eyebrows, and an overhanging fore- 
 head. ' I have the brow of an angel, arid the 
 mouth of a beast,' ^ he used to say, in mockery of 
 his own personal appearance. He was quite as 
 much impressed by Wordsworth as Wordsworth 
 v/as by him, and dwelt with special pleasure upon 
 the rare satisfaction of recognising in his new ac- 
 quaintance an intellectual giant. ' I speak with 
 heartfelt sincerity,' he wrote to Cottle, ' when I tell 
 you that I feel myself a little man by his side, and 
 yet I do not think myself a less man than I formerly 
 thought myself That ' Wordsworth and his ex- 
 quisite sister ' should at once return his visit by 
 coming to see him at Stowey was, of course, his 
 immediate proposal, and as Lloyd was just then at 
 Birmingham, there was a . present possibility of 
 accommodating two guests in the cottage at 
 Stowey. 
 
 During their fortnight's visit the brother and 
 sister were much delighted with the beautiful 
 neighbourhood, but especially with Coleridge's 
 society. ' There is everything here,' wrote Miss 
 
 1 A Stowey tradition told me by Mrs. J. Anstice. 
 
1797 "WORDSWORTH TAKES ALFOXDEN 225 
 
 Wordsworth, ' sea, woods as wild as fancy ever 
 painted, brooks clear and pebbly as in Cumberland, 
 villages so romantic. . . .' She describes how she 
 and Wordsworth, ' in a wander by ourselves,' 
 found their way into a coomb, which she calls a 
 dell, where was concealed a sequestered waterfall, 
 and whose steep sides were covered with 'full- 
 grown timber trees.' Following the course of the 
 brook, and 'prying into its recesses,' they continued 
 their ramble as far as Alfoxden, where they paused 
 to admire the enchanting situation, and indulged 
 in 'dreams of happiness in a little cottage, and 
 passing wishes that such a place might be found 
 out' A few days later they learnt that Alfoxden 
 itself was to be let, and that at a rent so merely 
 nominal that the sole object seems to have been 
 to keep the house inhabited during the minority 
 of the owner. I hold in my hand the original 
 agreement, written out in Tom Poole's handwrit- 
 ing, and signed by W. Wordsworth and John 
 Bartholomew, who would appear to have been the 
 tenant of the St. Albyn family for the home farm, 
 with some power of subletting the house ; but his 
 exact position is not very easy to determine. 
 
 'Mem. of Agreement made the 14th day of July, 1797, 
 between John Bartholomew and William Wordsworth. 
 That is to say, the said John Bartholomew agrees to let 
 the said William Wordsworth Allfoxen House, Furniture, 
 
 VOL. I Q 
 
226 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xiii 
 
 Gardens, Stables, and Coach-house, and to put him in 
 immediate possession, to hold the same one year from 
 Midsummer last, at the rent of twenty-three pounds. 
 The said John Bartholomew to discharge every rate and 
 tax whatever, and to keep the premises in good tenant- 
 able repair. And the said William Wordsworth agrees in 
 case he quits the house, &c., at the end of the year, to give 
 the said John Bartholomew three months' notice. And 
 it is further agreed that in case the said William Words- 
 worth retains the house, &c., beyond the present year, he 
 shall be allowed by the said John Bartholomew, out of 
 the rent of ;^2 3, any diminution he might secure in the 
 present assessed taxes. As witness our hands 
 
 'John Bartholomew. 
 
 ' William Wordsworth. 
 ' Witness — Thomas Poole.' 
 
 The whole matter was very quickly arranged, 
 for within the next two or three days Wordsworth 
 and his sister, with the child Basil Montagu, of 
 whom they were just then taking charge, were 
 established in their new and sufficiently splendid 
 quarters, of which the following is Dorothy Words- 
 worth's description : — 
 
 ' The house is a large mansion, with furniture enough 
 for a dozen families like ours. . . . The garden is at the 
 end of the house, and our favourite parlour . . . looks that 
 way. . . . The front of the house is to the south, but it 
 is screened from the sun by a high hill which rises im- 
 mediately from it. This hill is beautiful, scattered ir- 
 regularly . . . with trees, and topped with fern. . . . Where- 
 
1797 APPROPRIATE SURROUNDINGS 227 
 
 ever we turn we have woods, smooth downs, and valleys 
 with small brooks running down them ; . . . the hills 
 that cradle these valleys are either covered with fern and 
 bilberries,^ or oak woods, which are cut for charcoal. . . . 
 Walks extend for miles over the hilltops, the great beauty 
 of which is their wild simplicity : they are perfectly 
 smooth, without rocks. . . .' 
 
 Amid these appropriate surroundings Words- 
 worth settled down for the year which was to 
 be both to himself and to Coleridge so ' pleasant ' 
 and so 'productive' a time. It is quite a re- 
 lief to miss, in almost all the various mentions 
 of Coleridge which refer to this period, the con- 
 stant notices of pain and suffering that seem to 
 predominate at every other period of his life. He 
 was better in health, and happier in mind, than he 
 had almost ever been before, or ever was to be 
 again. There were moments when he was even 
 radiantly happy. And yet, even here, the harass- 
 ing uncertainty about ways and means could not 
 but follow him. It may have been at the very 
 time when Wordsworth and his sister were staying 
 at the cottage, for the letter makes mention of 
 Wordsworth's conversation, that, on his return from 
 a resultless visit to Bristol, he wrote to Cottle of 
 what he terms — 
 
 ^ They are called whorts or whortle-berries in the south, bil- 
 berries in the north of England, where also the stems from which 
 the berries are gathered are known as ' bilberry wires.' 
 
228 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xm 
 
 ' A depression too dreadful to be described — 
 
 "So much I felt my genial spirits droop, 
 My hopes all flat ; Nature within me seemed 
 In all her functions, weary of herself." 
 
 Wordsworth's conversation aroused me somewhat, 
 but, even now, I am not the man I have been, and 
 I think I never shall. A sort of calm hopelessness 
 diffuses itself over my heart. Indeed every mode of life 
 which has promised me bread and cheese has been, one 
 after another, torn away from me ; but God remains. . . .' 
 
 He adds that he is in no immediate pecuniary- 
 distress, having just received ;£^io from Lloyd; 
 but there was, then as always, a total absence of 
 any certain and sufficient expectation of making 
 an income, which weighed like lead upon his 
 spirits. Tom Poole, however, was unceasingly 
 watchful over his friend's worldly affairs, and he 
 lost no time in putting into his hands his own and 
 his brother's subscriptions to the little fund that 
 had been planned a year before, while he wrote to 
 Mr. Estlin and one or two other friends, to remind 
 them of their resolve to repeat the offering that 
 had then been made, if Mr. Coleridge's circum- 
 stances should seem to require it. There is a 
 mingled tenderness and dignity in Mr. Poole's 
 letters on this delicate subject, which I think very 
 touching : — 
 
 'June 5, 1797. 
 
 ' Dear Lloyd — When we parted it was, I believe, 
 pretty well understood that some occasional communica- 
 
1797 A LETTER TO LLOYD 229 
 
 tions should take place between us. In writing to you it is 
 natural that the main subject should be our dear friend 
 Col., and, indeed, his concerns are the immediate occasion 
 of my letter. You know, I believe, that last year some 
 of his friends subscribed five guineas apiece, which they 
 presented to him, and pledged themselves to continue 
 the same subscription, if wanted, for seven successive 
 years. Their object was to relieve his mind from painful 
 anxieties respecting pecuniary concerns, so that it may be 
 left at ease to exert its own great natural energies — not 
 doubting but that those energies would, long before the 
 expiration of that period, procure him more than he 
 wants. In conformity with this plan, they are now again 
 making the same offering, and I am certain that if I per- 
 mitted a thing of this kind to pass over without informing 
 you of it, you would justly complain of my unkindness. 
 You will, I know, become one of us. 
 
 ' The money is remitted to Estlin, who is treasurer- 
 general in this little concern, and by him sent to Col. 
 If you know any who are worthy to become members of 
 this little society, apply to them, and get the money 
 remitted accordingly. I say worthy, for, in truth, I 
 know not what purity of heart it requires to present, with 
 due associations, such assistance to such a man. All 
 this you are more capable of feeling than any one I 
 know, and to your discretion I refer it. . . . 
 
 ' I observed in one of your letters to Col. you 
 reminded me of transmitting to you the letters I received 
 from him containing an account of his life.^ The truth 
 is I have as yet received but two. I excuse him ; for 
 his mind has been, and is, deeply engaged in the pro- 
 ' These letters are printed in the Supplement to the Biog. Lit. 
 
230 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xiii 
 
 duction of his tragedy. Three acts are completed. The 
 remaining two will, he says, be finished in a week. What 
 is written is deeply interesting and admired by all. . . . 
 He has reproduced all his former with many new 
 excellences, and I have little hesitation in saying he will 
 be more admired in dramatick than in any other species 
 of writing. At Stowey we are much as you left us. My 
 dear mother still suffers daily. She desires to be kindly 
 remembered to you. . . . From your sincere friend, 
 
 'Thos. Poole.' 
 
 The letter to Mr. Estlin was written the same 
 day. 
 
 'My dear Sir — Some time ago Mr. Garnett^ of Bristol 
 was here at Stowey, and he being a sincere wellwisher 
 of our dear friend Coleridge, we had some confidential 
 conversation respecting him. Mr. Garnett was no 
 stranger to the plan we last year proposed, and in part 
 executed. I stated to him that, according to our agree- 
 ment, it was necessary we should again come forward, and 
 desired him to call on you, and make the necessary 
 arrangements. He promised he would, and give me 
 a line in a. few days. However, I have heard nothing 
 from him. 
 
 ' This, I am sure, knowing him as I do, arises from no 
 unfriendly disposition to the cause, but to that incompre- 
 hensible habit of procrastination, to which he, and such 
 men as he, are subject. You will now, my dear Sir, see 
 him, Ur. Beddoes, and Coleridge's other friends, and 
 state to them what we are doing. You must be treasurer, 
 
 ' This must have been Poole's American friend, the inventor oi 
 the 'anti-friction rollers' and the 'new bark mill.' 
 
1797 'OSORIO' 231 
 
 and through you the money must reach our Bard. Do 
 not apply but to those who love him, for it requires 
 affection and purity of heart to offer, with due associations, 
 assistance of this nature to such a man. I have paid 
 him my subscription and will receive my brother's for 
 him, and I have written to Lloyd who will, I doubt not, 
 write to you. We are going on pretty much as when 
 you were at Stowey. Coleridge is industrious, considering 
 the exertion of mind necessary when he works. The 
 race-horse cannot always be on the turf. He has com- 
 mitted three acts of the tragedy to paper ; the other two 
 have being, but as yet in the chambers of his brain. He 
 promises to produce them in a week. All who have seen 
 what he has written admire it. I refer you to Mr. 
 Garnett for our opinion. . . . Believe me, my dear Sir, 
 your very sincere friend, Thos. Poole. 
 
 'F.S. — Coleridge preached an excellent sermon at 
 Bridgwater last Sunday, on the necessity of religious zeal 
 in these times. Most of the better people in the town 
 were present, and I believe all admired him.' 
 
 The rough draft of the first act of Coleridge's 
 tragedy of Osorto, as it was then called, was left 
 in Thomas Poole's hands, and I have it by me as 
 I write. It is scribbled on a quire of common 
 paper, stitched into the form of a rude copy-book, 
 and has, it would seem, been a good deal carried 
 about in the pocket between Stowey and Alfoxden. 
 Wordsworth, too, was busy with a tragedy, the 
 heaviest and most unreadable thing he ever wrote, 
 
232 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xiii 
 
 and in spite of Poole's admiration, it must be 
 admitted that Coleridge's tragedy too {Remorse) 
 is very far from being a success, though it can be 
 read with pleasure, and is full of noble and elevated 
 feeling. Both poets were giving sedulous toil and 
 pains 1 to produce a kind of work that was alien to 
 their special gifts, and it is a curious instance of 
 the paralysis of the critical faculty, which scarcely 
 any one can escape in judging his own work, that 
 neither of these great poets realised at the time that 
 that which had been so laboriously accomplished 
 was below the level of his own reputation. Only, 
 side by side with the Magnum Opus, Wordsworth 
 wrote, for pure pleasure, some of his most delicious 
 lyrics, and Coleridge composed the first part of 
 Christabel, and The Ancient Mariner. 
 
 John Thelwall was expected in Stowey, as it 
 would seem, on the very day of the Lambs' 
 departure. A letter from him to his wife, dated 
 Alfoxden, July i8, 1797, describes his actual 
 arrival (Mr. Cosens' Collection) : — 
 
 ' Everything but my Stella and my babes,' he writes, 
 ' are now banished from my mind by the enchanting 
 retreat (the Academus of Stowey) from which I write 
 this, and by the delightful society of Coleridge and of 
 
 ^ 'My tragedy employed and strained all my thoughts and 
 faculties for six or seven months ; Wordsworth consumed far more 
 time, and far more thought, and far more genius.' — Coleridge to 
 Cottle, Reminiscences, p. 176. 
 
1797 THELWALL AT ALFOXDEN 233 
 
 Wordsworth, the present occupier of Allfox Den. We 
 have been having a delightful ramble to-day among the 
 plantations, and along a wild, romantic dell in these 
 grounds, through which a foaming, rushing, murmuring 
 torrent of water winds its long artless course. There have 
 we ... a literary and political triumvirate, passed sentence 
 on the productions and characters of the age, burst forth 
 in poetical flights of enthusiasm, and philosophised our 
 minds into a state of tranquillity, which the leaders of 
 nations might envy, and the residents of cities can never 
 know.' 
 
 [Every one will remember Wordsworth's remi- 
 niscence, probably of the same occasion. Cole- 
 ridge exclaimed, ' This is a place to reconcile one 
 to all the jarrings and conflicts of the wide world.' 
 ' Nay,' said Thelwall, ' to make one forget them 
 altogether.'] 
 
 'Samuel was not at home (he was here) when I 
 arrived last night, nor would Sara have been, but that 
 she had quitted this friendly retreat to superintend the 
 wash-tub. I have spoiled the soapsuds, however. . . . 
 I slept at Coleridge's cot, and this morning we rose by 
 times, and came here time enough to call Samuel and 
 his friend Wordsworth up to breakfast. Faith, we are a 
 most philosophical party . . . the enthusiastic group con- 
 sisting of C. and his Sara, W. and his sister, and myself, 
 without any servant, male or female. An old woman, 
 who lives in an adjoining cottage, does what is requisite 
 for our simple wants. " Delightful spot, O were my Stella 
 here!" . . .' 
 
234 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xin 
 
 [He is thinking of Coleridge's Brockley Coomb 
 
 line — 
 
 ' Delightful spot, O were my Sara.here ! '] 
 
 Upon personal acquaintance, Coleridge con- 
 sidered Thelwall 
 
 'a very warm-hearted honest man; and disagreeing, 
 as we do,' he wrote to Cottle, ' on almost every point of 
 religion, of morals, of politics, and philosophy, we like each 
 other uncommonly well. He is a great favourite with 
 Sara. Energetic activity of mind and of heart is his master 
 feature. He is prompt to conceive, and still prompter 
 to execute ; but I think he is deficient in that patience 
 of mind which can look intensely and frequently at 
 the same subject. He beheves and disbelieves with 
 impassioned confidence. I wish to see him doubting. 
 He is intrepid, eloquent, and honest — perhaps the only 
 acting democrat that is honest ; for the patriots are ragged 
 cattle, a most execrable herd, arrogant because they are 
 ignorant, and boastful of the strength of reason because 
 they have never tried it enough to know its weakness.' 
 
 By Coleridge, by Wordsworth, and by Thomas 
 Poole, Thelwall found himself received with that 
 perfect kind of tolerance which is, as it were, a 
 spontaneous effect of nature, therefore happily un- 
 conscious of its own merits ; and he thus enjoyed 
 the singular advantage of being able to speak with 
 absolute freedom on such great subjects as ' religion, 
 morals, politics, and' philosophy,' with men whose 
 intellectual power he could not but recognise, who 
 
1797 'WE ARE SHOCKED' 235 
 
 habitually thought much and deeply on those very 
 subjects, who could listen with patient comprehen- 
 sion, and answer without missing the point of what 
 had been said, and yet whose conclusions were 
 entirely opposite to his own. No wonder that he 
 made up his mind to use the most earnest endeavours 
 to find in the same neighbourhood the retired home 
 that he himself was seeking at that very time. 
 
 But the Stowey world shuddered at hjs very 
 name, and the feeling with which his appearance 
 in their neighbourhood was regarded, may be 
 judged by the following extract from Charlotte 
 Poole's journal : — 
 
 'July 23, 1797. — We are shocked to hear that Mr. 
 Thelwall has spent some time at Stowey this week with 
 Mr. Coleridge, and consequently with Tom Poole. 
 Alfoxton house is taken by one of the fraternity, and 
 Woodlands by another. To what are we coming ? ' 
 
 Woodlands had been taken by a Mr. Willmott, 
 the son of a silk manufacturer in Sherborne. Why 
 he should be reckoned as ' one of the fraternity ' I 
 cannot tell. He was a man of singular upright- 
 ness and activity, and was recommended by Mr. 
 Poole to the Wedgwoods when they needed a 
 confidential steward to manage their estates in 
 Dorsetshire.^ But it was a time of great political 
 
 ^ 'Willmott is extremely useful to me.' — ^J. Wedgwood to T. 
 Poole, April 181 1. 
 
236 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xiii 
 
 excitement, and a little thing alarmed the public 
 mind. All sorts of reports began to be circulated 
 as to the presumably dangerous character of 
 men who made Thelwall their chosen associate ; 
 nor, indeed, can it be denied that Thelwall had 
 been guilty of the use of very violent language, 
 and was apt to think it almost a merit to insult 
 the convictions, and outrage the prejudices of those 
 to whom he felt himself opposed. 
 
 ' Such passages are offensive,' Coleridge once 
 wrote to him, ' they are mere assertions, and can, 
 of course, convince no person who thinks differently, 
 and they give pain and irritate.' 
 
 His very appearance upon the scene was 
 enough to make the position of all the others well- 
 nigh untenable, and the mischief that had been 
 already done was past undoing, when Coleridge 
 wrote the following letter, representing to Thelwall 
 the reasons that existed why Tom Poole, at any 
 rate, should not be asked to find a house for him 
 in Stowey. The letter is undated, but must 
 certainly have been written from Nether Stowey or 
 Bridgwater, some time in the autumn of 1797 : — 
 
 'Dear Thelwall — This is the first hour that I could 
 write to you anything decisive. I have received an answer 
 from Chubb, intimating that he would undertake the office 
 of procuring you a cottage, provided it was thought right 
 that you should settle here. But this i^.e. the whole 
 
1797 THELWALL MUST NOT COME 237 
 
 difficulty) he left for T. Poole and me to settle. . . . 
 Consequently, the whole returns to its former situation, 
 and the hope which I had entertained that you could have 
 settled here, without any, the remotest interference of 
 Poole, has vanished. To such interference on his part 
 there are insuperable difficulties. The whole malignity 
 of the Aristocrats will converge to him, as to one point. 
 His tranquillity will be perpetually interrupted ; his 
 business and his credit hampered and distressed by 
 vexatious calumnies ; the ties of relationship weakened, 
 perhaps broken ; and lastly, his poor old mother made 
 miserable — the pain of the stone aggravated by domestic 
 calamity, and quarrels betwixt her son and those neigh- 
 bours with whom and herself there have been peace and 
 love for these fifty years. 
 
 ' Very great odium Tom Poole incurred by bringing 
 me here ; my peaceable manners, and known attachment 
 to Christianity, had almost worn it away, when Words- 
 worth came, and he, likewise by T. Poole's agency, 
 settled here. You cannot conceive the tumult, calumnies, 
 and apparatus of threatened persecutions which the 
 event has occasioned round about us. If you, too, 
 should come, I am afraid that even riots, and dangerous 
 riots, might be the consequence. Either of us separately 
 would perhaps be tolerated ; but all three together — 
 what can it be less than plot and damned conspiracy ? — 
 a school for the propagation of Demagogy and Atheism ? 
 
 'And it deserves examination whether or no, as 
 moralists, we should be justified in hazarding the certain 
 evil of calling forth malignant passions, for the contingent 
 good \that might result from our living in the same 
 neighbourhood. Add to which ; that in point of public 
 
238 TiroMAS POOLE AND HISJ'RIENDS chap, xiii 
 
 interest, we must put into the balance the Stowey Benefit 
 
 Club. Of the present utility of this T. Poole thinks 
 
 highly — of its possible utility, very, very highly indeed ; 
 
 but the interests, nay, perhaps, the existence of this 
 
 Club is interwoven with his character as a peaceable and 
 
 undesigning man. . . .' 
 
 [In Mr. Cosens' Collection.] 
 
 So Thelwall must not come to Stowey, or, at 
 any rate, not yet. It is evidently very painful to 
 Coleridge to have to say so, and yet he cannot 
 but affirm that this is his ' sad but clear conviction.' 
 
 How correct were his anticipations may be 
 clearly seen in the reception Thelwall met with, 
 when, after a four months' pedestrian excursion 
 ' in unavailing search for an eligible retreat,' he 
 took his family to a little farm at Llys-Wen, an 
 ' obscure and romantic ' village in Brecknockshire, 
 where he hoped, but hoped in vain, to be beyond 
 the reach of his own notoriety, and to live in 
 forgotten and undisturbed tranquillity.^ 
 
 Meanwhile, the uneasiness created by his visit 
 to Stowey was so great that a spy had actually 
 been employed to watch Wordsworth's movements. 
 It is curious that it should have been so particularly 
 upon Wordsworth that popular suspicion fastened, 
 while Coleridge was left comparatively undisturbed, 
 but I think the explanation is to be sought for in 
 the far more strongly marked incomprehensibility 
 
 ^ Prefatory Memoir to ' The Fairy of the Lake,' by John Thelwall. 
 
1797 LIKE OTHER PEOPLE 239 
 
 of Wordsworth's character and position. Coleridge 
 was, at any rate, hving in the very middle of 
 Stowey. People saw him daily and knew, or 
 thought they knew, all about him. Besides, he 
 had a wife, a comfortable young woman with a 
 baby, just like any one else, who enjoyed talking 
 about the little commonplace concerns of life, and 
 was even indiscreet enough to betray to sympa- 
 thising friends, how trying it was when Samuel 
 woidd^ walk up and down composing poetry, 
 instead of coming to bed at proper hours. I have 
 sometimes thought Ophelia might have been like 
 Mrs. Coleridge if she and Hamlet had lived to be 
 married. In her girlish grace and softness she 
 belonged to the very type of woman that a Hamlet, 
 in early youth, most easily falls in love with, for 
 she personifies womanhood to him. In after years 
 the likeness to Polonius would come out more and 
 more ; she would be a loving mother and a careful 
 housewife ; but Hamlet might wake up to perceive 
 that she was a very unsympathetic companion for 
 a man of high intellectual rank, especially if he 
 detected in her a quiet sense of superiority to 
 himself in all practical matters, and a bad habit of 
 frequently wishing that he were a little bit more 
 like other people. 
 
 Mrs. Coleridge was, as we have said, exactly 
 
 1 Told me by Miss Ward. 
 
240 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xiii 
 
 like other people, and her innocent chit-chat may 
 have been really a kind of protection to her 
 husband, making every one clearly understand that 
 he was only a harmless genius, and quite incapable 
 of conspiring to bring the French over, or anything 
 else of the sort. It was otherwise with Words- 
 worth. His sister was as great a mystery to the 
 rustic imagination as he was himself The pro- 
 found seclusion in which they lived, the incompre- 
 hensible nature of their occupations, their strange 
 habit of frequenting out-of-the-way and untrodden 
 spots, the very presence of an unexplained child 
 that was no relation to either of them, all combined 
 to produce an impression of awe and mistrust. 
 Mrs. St. Albyn became alarmed, and found fault 
 with Mr. Bartholomew for having let Alfoxden 
 House to a person concerning whom such unsatis- 
 factory rumours were abroad, and finally Words- 
 worth received notice to quit in June 1798 ; that 
 is to say, the moment his first year's tenancy 
 should expire. 
 
 The following letter from Tom Poole apparently 
 produced no effect ; but it is interesting, and 
 almost amusing that any one could ever have 
 needed to be assured of William Wordsworth's 
 ' respectability ' ! — 
 
 'Madam — I have heard that Mr. Bartholomew of 
 Putsham has incurred your displeasure by letting Allfoxen 
 
1797 LETTER TO MRS. ST. ALBYN 241 
 
 House to Mr. Wordsworth. As it was through me that 
 Mr. Wordsworth was introduced to Mr. Bartholomew as 
 a tenant, I take the liberty of addressing to you this 
 letter, simply to state the circumstances attending the 
 business, and to say a few words of Mr. Wordsworth and 
 his connections. Mr. Wordsworth happened to be on a 
 visit at Stowey. In the course of a walk he saw AUfoxen, 
 and was delighted with its situation. It was just at that 
 time known . . . that it was to be let. Mr. Wordsworth 
 desired me to apply to Mr. Bartholomew, which I did, 
 and strongly recommended Mr. Wordsworth as a tenant, 
 in consequence of which, after two or three meetings, 
 Mr. Wordsworth took the house of Mr. Bartholomew for 
 a twelvemonth. Mr. Bartholomew knew nothing of Mr. 
 Wordsworth but through me, and therefore can deserve 
 no blame ; and I can truly say when he was letting the 
 house he seemed more anxious to have a tenant who 
 would take care of it and not abuse the premises around 
 than to promote his own advantage. These circumstances 
 considered, I am sure your goodness and justice will 
 acquit him of any the least intentional misconduct in 
 this transaction. 
 
 ' As for Mr. Wordsworth, I believe him to be in every 
 respect a gentleman. I have not known him personally 
 long, but I had heard of his family before I knew him. 
 Dr. Fisher, our late Vicar, and one of the Canons of 
 Windsor, had often mentioned to me as his particular 
 and respected friend, Mr. Cookson, Mr. Wordsworth's 
 uncle, and also one of the Canons of Windsor. This 
 circumstance was sufficient to convince me of the 
 respectability of Mr. Wordsworth's family. You may, 
 upon my honour, rest assured that no tenant could have 
 
 VOL. I R 
 
242 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xiu 
 
 been found for AUfoxen whom, if you knew him, you 
 would prefer to Mr. Wordsworth. His family is small, 
 consisting of his sister, who has principally lived with 
 her uncle, Mr. Cookson, a child of five years old, the 
 son of a friend of his, and one excellent female servant. 
 Such a family can neither wear nor tear the house or 
 furniture, and I will venture to say they were never both 
 in better order. How different would be the case with a 
 large family — full of careless servants, a run of idle 
 company, hunting, breaking down fences, etc. 
 
 ' But I am informed you have heard that Mr. Words- 
 worth does keep company, and on this head I fear the 
 most infamous falsehoods have reached your ears. Mr. 
 Wordsworth is a man fond of retirement — fond of read- 
 ing and writing — and has never had above two gentle- 
 men at a time with him. By accident Mr. Thelwall, as 
 he was travelling through the neighbourhood, called at 
 Stowey. The person he called on at Stowey took him 
 to AUfoxen. No person at Stowey nor Mr. Wordsworth 
 knew of his coming. Mr. Wordsworth had never spoken 
 to him before, nor, indeed, had any one of Stowey. 
 Surely the common duties of hospitality were not to be 
 refused to any man ; and who would not be interested 
 in seeing such a man as Thelwall, however they may dis- 
 approve of his sentiments or conduct ? 
 
 ' God knows we are all liable to err, and should bear 
 with patience the difference in one another's opinions. 
 Be assured, and I speak it from my own knowledge, 
 that Mr. Wordsworth, of all men alive, is the last who 
 will give any one cause to complain of his opinions, his 
 conduct, or his disturbing the peace of any one. Let 
 me beg you, madam, to hearken to no calumnies, no 
 
1797 'THE ANTI-JACOBIN' 243 
 
 party spirit, nor to join with any in disturbing one who 
 only wishes to Hve in tranquillity. I will pledge myself 
 in every respect that you will have no cause to complain 
 of Mr. Wordsworth. You have known me from my 
 youth, and know my family — I should not risk my 
 credit with you in saying what I could not answer for. 
 Believe me, with sincere respect, your very obedient 
 and obliged, Thomas Poole. 
 
 'September 16, 1797.' 
 
 It was, perhaps, the rumours of Thelwall's visit 
 to Stowey, and of his intention of settling there, 
 that grouped his name with that of Coleridge in 
 the Anti-Jacobin. There is a kind of irony in the 
 curious circumstance that the ' friends of order and 
 religion ' should have selected so irreverent a 
 medium as a jingling parody of Milton's magnifi- 
 cent Morning Hymn, when they wanted to make 
 atheists and revolutionaries look absurd — a thing 
 that no one possibly could have done who had 
 ever realised that Hymn as a Psalm of Praise to 
 the Creator of Heaven and Earth ! But the 
 literature of attack can seldom pause to be 
 scrupulous, and least of all when ridicule is the 
 weapon employed. Lepaux was a French charla- 
 tan, whose name would have been entirely for- 
 gotten but for the celebrity of the lines — 
 
 ' Thelwall, and ye that lecture as ye go, 
 And for your pains get pelted. 
 
 Praise Lepaux ! 
 
244 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xii 
 
 And ye five other wandering bards that move 
 In sweet accord of harmony and love, 
 
 C- dge and S — th-y, L — d and L — b, and Co, 
 
 Tune all your mystic harps to praise Lepaux !' 
 
 On October 9, Charlotte Poole records in he 
 journal that, being at Tom Poole's, she ' saw Mi 
 Wordsworth and Mr. Coldridge.' It is typical o 
 the attitude of the cousinly mind at Marshmil 
 that she has not, even yet, mastered the ortho 
 graphy of Coleridge's name. His letters, whicl 
 almost always contain not only some word of loving 
 remembrance of Tom's mother — ' Our Mother, 
 he calls her in one letter — but also many littk 
 messages to Stowey friends and acquaintances 
 have never a word for the cousins at Marshmill. 
 
 Once Tom Poole, being there with his friends 
 begged Penelope to sing ' Come, ever smiling 
 Liberty!' {Judas MaccabcBus) for Coleridge anc 
 Wordsworth. Many years afterwards she related 
 the circumstance to her daughter, and told how 
 she persistently selected another song. 
 
 ' I could not sing it,' she said ; ' I knew whal 
 they meant with their liberty.' 
 
1797 ESTEEMED BY WORDSWORTH AS A TYPE 245 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 ' Life's best warmth still radiates from the heart. ' 
 
 S. T. Coleridge, Remorse, Act V. 
 
 It must not be supposed that the new sympathies 
 and friendships which were giving such hitherto 
 untasted interest and freshness to Tom Poole's 
 existence, had at all the effect of making him 
 indifferent to the humbler opportunities of local 
 usefulness in which he had been so long accustomed 
 to spend a large portion of his energies. Coleridge 
 was even inclined to complain that local and 
 family attachments had too strong a hold upon 
 him, a fault which, if it be a fault, is certainly 
 one of those failings which lean to virtue's side. 
 Wordsworth, to whom strong local and family 
 attachments, and a deeply-rooted loyalty to old 
 associations, were as the very groundwork of all 
 healthy national character, thoroughly esteemed 
 and appreciated Tom Poole as a type — surely 
 rather an uncommon type — of the very best sort 
 of rural Englishman. ' During my residence at 
 
246 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xiv 
 
 Alfoxden,' he wrote, ' I used to see much of him, 
 and had frequent occasion to admire the course of 
 his daily life, and especially his conduct to his 
 labourers and poor neighbours. Their wishes he 
 carefully encouraged, and weighed their faults in 
 the scales of charity.' ^ So much, indeed, was 
 Wordsworth delighted with this side of Thomas 
 Poole's character, that he perhaps hardly gave 
 sufficient weight to the strength of his literary 
 tastes and sympathies ; but then, there was always 
 a certain austerity in Wordsworth that kept most 
 people at a distance, and great as was the regard 
 he and Poole sincerely entertained for one another, 
 they never became intimate, however often they 
 might meet. 
 
 One of Poole's minor interests at this period 
 was the improvement of the Nether Stowey Church 
 Choir. Perhaps, however, modern minds may 
 cavil at the word improvement, when it becomes 
 clear that his ideal of Church music must have 
 been Nebuchadnezzar's band. We find him writ- 
 ing to Dr. Langford,2 in December 1797, to report 
 that 'our singers are more than commonly active'; 
 those who had been dissatisfied with certain 
 arrangements made by their new vicar had come 
 round, and had at length joined the choir that 
 
 ^ Wordsworth's Memoirs. 
 2 Successor to Dr. Fisher as Vicar of Stowey. 
 
1797 'THE LOUD BASSOON' 247 
 
 he had estabhshed, and if he would now send ' the 
 Bassoon and the Music ' that he had promised, 
 ' I thinli, sir,' says Tom Poole, ' that we shall 
 make good use of them.' 
 
 Those who are fond of noticing the little 
 coincidences of literary circumstance, will be 
 amused to recognise in that bassoon an instrument 
 of music destined to a celebrity little dreamed of 
 by the Stowey singers ; for who can feel much 
 doubt that this and no other was the very original 
 and prototype of ' the loud Bassoon ' whose sound 
 moved the wedding-guest to beat his breast, whilst 
 none the less he continued to sit spell-bound 
 listening to the Ancient Mariner? 
 
 That wonderful poem in which Coleridge once 
 for all touched that supreme height in poetry, which 
 is neither to be found by seeking nor attained by 
 striving, originated, as we all know, in a walking 
 expedition from Alfoxden to Porlock, Linton, and 
 Lynmouth. Porlock is, perhaps, the most beau- 
 tiful spot in all the beautiful West Country — where 
 the brown tint of the Severn Sea merges, at last, 
 into Atlantic blue ; where the coombs run down 
 to the very water's edge ; and where the sea is 
 bordered by rich red sandstone cliffs, crowned with 
 the overhanging woods that are the latest haunt 
 of the wild red deer. The walk from Porlock 
 to Lynmouth, keeping ' close to the shore about 
 
248 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xiv 
 
 four miles .... through woods rising almost 
 perpendicularly from the sea, with views of the 
 opposite mountains of Wales,' ^ is almost the most 
 charming bit of English scenery that I know. I 
 have walked it more than once, and each time with 
 fresh delight and admiration, — for my husband was 
 a true nephew of Thomas Poole, and loved the 
 Quantocks as if he had been born amongst them, 
 ■ — but certainly we never selected November for 
 such an excursion. It seems to me that a walking 
 tour, begun at ' half-past four,' on a ' dark and 
 cloudy ' November afternoon, is a fairly good 
 illustration of the fantastic waywardness in their 
 proceedings, which excited such unreasonable 
 suspicions in the breasts of the West Country 
 folk concerning the tenants of Alfoxden. 
 
 What possible good motive could any three 
 people have — one a lady — for stealing out of the 
 comfortable shelter of their own roof at such a 
 time, and not coming back for days ? It is true 
 they might have done all this and more in the 
 north, and no one would have made a remark, or 
 hazarded a conjecture ; but in the north Words- 
 worth was a privileged person, as no doubt he 
 would soon have become in Somersetshire if he 
 had stayed there long enough. But in 1797 
 there was a disposition to question everything he 
 
 ^ Wordsworth's Memoirs. Letter of Dorothy Wordsworth. 
 
1797 A NOVEMBER AFTERNOON 249 
 
 did, and we can easily imagine the stories Mrs. St. 
 Albyn may have heard from her maid, illustrating 
 only too well the weightier misgivings of those 
 local magnates who would, perhaps, think it their 
 duty to call, to ask her if she were aware of the 
 kind of person to whom Alfoxden had been let. 
 
 The tour was to be paid for out of the proceeds 
 of a poem, to be sent to the newly-started Monthly 
 Magazine ; and as the trio plodded along in the 
 oncoming darkness for ' the first eight miles,' they 
 eagerly struck out the general plan. Coleridge 
 began by speaking of a remarkable dream of John 
 Cruikshanks', which he had thought of making 
 the subject of a poem ; and then, as they walked, 
 the outline gradually suggested itself The old 
 Navigator, ' as Coleridge afterwards delighted to 
 call him,' should by some crime bring upon 
 himself a spectral persecution. Wordsworth had 
 been reading Shelvocke's Voyages, and had been 
 struck by his description of that ' grand and 
 graceful creature,' the albatross ; let the Ancient 
 Mariner kill one of these birds, he suggests, and 
 let the tutelary spirits of the region avenge that 
 act of cruelty. The pedestrians must have spent 
 that first night at Watchett, a little seaside village 
 where Severn mud still encumbers the shore. It 
 is rather a primitive place even now, and in those 
 days must have been quite primeval in its simplicity. 
 
250 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xiv 
 
 Probably the friends scarcely noticed the rudeness 
 of the accommodation, so eager were they to begin 
 to put their thoughts on paper. But the joint 
 composition originally planned was found to be 
 impracticable, their ' respective manners proved so 
 widely different' Besides, the idea was Coleridge's, 
 he alone knew what he meant — indeed, the vivid 
 succession of perfect and clearly-defined images 
 carries with it the impression of actual vision, and 
 though Wordsworth contributed a few lines and 
 some suggestions, the point was soon reached when 
 the ' making mind ' must be left to proceed alone. 
 The next day the chillness of the November sun 
 seems to have formed no bar to enjoyment, and 
 the travellers fulfilled their intention of exploring 
 the coast line as far as Linton, returning by an 
 inland route through Dulverton — the poem moving 
 and stirring in Coleridge's imagination, and doubt- 
 less, even then, finding voice from time to time in 
 an occasional verse or stanza as he journeyed on 
 with his two congenial companions. It reminds 
 one of Walt Whitman's saying that he believes all 
 most beautiful poems to have been composed in 
 the open air. But the Monthly Magazine was left 
 far behind, and, on their return to Stowey, ' the 
 Ancient Mariner grew and grew,' until finally it 
 stood forth complete, a perfect poem, and, as he 
 himself said, ' not imitable.' 
 
1797 HIS CIRCLE OF FRIENDSHIPS 251 
 
 A little later in the same year, December 19, 
 1797, there was a General Thanksgiving 'for the 
 three signal victories obtained over the Fleets of 
 the French, the Spaniards, and the Dutch, and 
 Miss Charlotte Poole ' observed with satisfaction ' 
 the largeness of the congregation that met in Over 
 Stowey church, ' since,' she wrote in her journal, 
 ' it proves that disaffection has not reached us.' 
 
 There seems to have been a kind of freemasonry 
 in Thomas Poole's circle of friendships, within 
 which something like the ideal brotherhood of 
 Coleridge's imagination was actually realised. 
 Some of the fraternity, like Tom Poole himself, 
 and the Wedgwoods, were simply tradesmen (a 
 name applied in those days to any one engaged in 
 trade ^), members of that same middle class which 
 has so often been reproached for its lack of 
 sweetness and light, and in which, nevertheless, 
 every new movement of the human mind, whether 
 moral or intellectual, has been apt to find the very 
 earliest response of faith and sympathy. Words- 
 worth and Coleridge were men of the highest genius 
 in the kingdoms of thought and poetry ; Lloyd 
 and Lamb, and perhaps we might add, Southey, 
 though he never came quite within the innermost 
 line of intimacy at Stowey, all possessed literary 
 gifts of high individuality and value ; Davy was the 
 1 Not merely, as now, to shopkeepers, carpenters, etc. 
 
252 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xiv 
 
 most remarkable scientific man of his day ; Rick- 
 man was an able economist, deeply versed in the 
 knowledge of facts and statistics ; Clarkson's whole 
 soul was given to the leadership of the greatest 
 philanthropic effort of the century, the heroic 
 work of his whole life ; — the bond which brought 
 them all into fellowship with one another was a 
 common enthusiasm for truth and goodness, a 
 common passion for excellence, a common sense 
 of duty, governing the entire direction of their 
 minds, and a common persuasion that life was 
 worthless and gifts abused, unless both were spent 
 in the service of God and man. Service to their 
 generation was the master-thought in the two 
 leading minds of the group ; and though poor 
 Coleridge's life trailed on a broken wing, the spirit 
 truly was willing if the flesh were weak, and he 
 did not die without having accomplished much, 
 and handing on an unextinguished torch to others. 
 To be useful was the first ambition of Tom Poole's 
 youth, and, long before he knew Coleridge, to fit 
 himself for usefulness had, as we have seen, been 
 the object of all his patient self-culture ; and the 
 Wedgwoods, weighted — overweighted some would 
 think — with that burden of a great fortune which 
 is so apt to smother in material comforts all the 
 nobler aspirations and faculties of the higher nature, 
 have, nevertheless, made good their title to a 
 
1797 THE WEDGWOODS 253 
 
 place amongst the unforgotten names of their 
 epoch, chiefly by the enhghtened hberality of their 
 conviction that money was a trust, which it was 
 their duty to employ carefully for the use and 
 benefit of their fellowmen. 
 
 Cottle tells us that Mr. Poole introduced 
 Coleridge to the Wedgwoods ; it seems probable 
 that his first acquaintance with them began when 
 Tom Wedgwood came into Somersetshire in 1797, 
 to be near Dr. Beddoes, who had first settled in 
 Clifton in 1793, with his mind full of the idea of 
 starting an institution in which the question 'how 
 far pneumatic chemistry could aid in the cure of 
 disease ' should be regularly tried and tested.^ 
 His earliest experiments in the virtues of 'medicated 
 airs ' had been made in Shropshire, at the house 
 of that Mr. Reynolds with whom William Anstice, 
 the William Anstice who married Penelope Poole, 
 afterwards entered into partnership. 
 
 Beddoes was ' sanguine to a fault, hasty in 
 judgment, and prone to theories which, in many 
 respects, proved little more than day-dreams;'" 
 but nothing attracts converts like a sincere 
 enthusiasm, especially in a man of tried and 
 trustworthy attainment, and though there was 
 much difficulty in finding a home for the Pneu- 
 
 ^ He had been Chemical Lecturer at Oxford from 1788 to 1791. 
 ^ Meteyard's Group of Englishmen. 
 
254 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xiv 
 
 matic Institution, on account of a popular impression 
 that ' medicated airs ' were explosive, and that the 
 complaints, which were to be cured by inhaling 
 them, might be infectious, which caused a general 
 unwillingness to be next-door neighbour to so 
 suspicious a novelty, he had none in obtaining the 
 necessary funds to accomplish his design ; and 
 when at last a Cornish undergraduate,^ who had 
 attended his lectures at Oxford with much interest 
 and pleasure, introduced 'young Davy, the carver's 
 son,' of Tredrea,who was so fond of making chemical 
 experiments, and had burst into absurd ' tumult- 
 uous delight ' at the first sight of a well-appointed 
 laboratory, to the doctor's notice, and Beddoes 
 discovered in him the very person he was seeking 
 as superintendent of his new institution, and a 
 house was at last found in Dowry Square, Hot 
 Wells, Thomas Wedgwood actually subscribed 
 _^iOOO to complete the sum I'equired to make 
 it possible to begin immediately. It would 
 be worth that sum, he declared, even to be sure 
 ' that the elastic fluids would not be serviceable in 
 medicine.' 
 
 This was in 1798, when Thomas Wedgwood 
 had already been for some time a patient of Dr. 
 Beddoes, and had already more than once visited 
 Poole at Nether Stowey, where he must have met 
 
 ^ Mr. Davies Giddy, afterwards Sir Davies Gilbert, P.R.S. 
 
1797 'SILVER PICTURES' 255 
 
 both Coleridge and Wordsworth, and have learnt 
 to appreciate them as men of unusual and tran- 
 scendent gifts. He was himself a man of parts 
 considerably abov^e the average ; he was an excel- 
 lent chemist — indeed it is generally admitted that 
 the ' silver pictures ' or ' heliotypes ' which were 
 printed off by him at Etruria in 1791 and 1793, 
 when he was little over twenty years of age, 
 establish his rights to be considered as the earliest 
 discoverer of photography ; and in metaphysics 
 he had a reach of thought that even Coleridge 
 spoke of with respect. His brothers were men of 
 excellent sense and considerable culture, but he 
 was something more, and the pride with which his 
 abilities were regarded by his own family, rendered 
 the disappointment all the more bitter, when it 
 gradually became certain that, young as he was, 
 he was stricken with incurable disease, and would 
 never be well enough to do anything but drag out 
 an invalid's existence, moving listlessly from place 
 to place in the vain search after health. 
 
 Still, until he became a prey to that saddest of 
 all maladies, an utter weariness of life, he must 
 have been a very delightful companion, and to 
 Tom Poole he was ever the object of a tender, 
 considerate affection, quite different from the solid 
 mutual regard which existed between him and his 
 brother Josiah, and of which the expression remains 
 
256 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xiv 
 
 in a large collection of sensible and straightforward 
 letters/ full of practical details concerning purchases 
 of land, farm and dairy management, family plans 
 and projects, and other matters of everyday con- 
 cern. With the third brother, John, who was the 
 eldest of the three, and whose main intention in 
 settling at Cote House, near Bristol, seems to have 
 been to supply the comforts of a home to poor 
 Tom Wedgwood, whenever he wished to be within 
 reach of Dr. Beddoes, Tom Poole was never 
 intimate ; but it was at his house that Coleridge 
 went to meet Tom Wedgwood on his return from 
 Shrewsbury, to make his personal acknowledg- 
 ments of the offer of the annuity which he had 
 just made up his mind to accept. 
 
 He had, as we know, refused, though with 
 some hesitation, their first gift of iTiOO. The 
 letter in which he did so is copied out, in Ward's 
 boyish hand, into the pages of Mr. Poole's copying- 
 book, where it is immediately followed by a copy, 
 in the same writing, of the letter in which Mr. 
 Josiah Wedgwood replies by the offer of the 
 annuity of iJ^i 50 a year, from his brother Thomas 
 and himself, an amount corresponding to the 
 income that would have been his, if he had under- 
 taken the charge of the Unitarian pulpit at 
 Shrewsbury. Coleridge had already started for 
 
 ^ These letters begin in 1797. 
 
1798 AN IMPORTANT LETTER 257 
 
 Shropshire when this important letter reached 
 Stowey, and was opened by Mr. Tom Poole, who 
 seems to have been left in charge of Coleridge's 
 correspondence, and who took immediate measures 
 for communicating the contents to him. One 
 copy, with a letter from himself on the same 
 sheet, earnestly recommending him to accept, was 
 addressed to Coleridge in the first instance at Mr. 
 Estlin's, and thence forwarded to the Rev. John 
 Rowe's, at Shrewsbury. 
 
 ' Penzance, yflmM?-_j/ lOth, 1798. 
 ' Dear Sir — In. the absence of my brother., who has 
 an engagement this morning, I take up the pen to reply to 
 your letter received yesterday. I cannot help regretting 
 very sincerely that, at this critical moment, we are separated 
 by so great a length of the worst road in the kingdom. It 
 is not that we have found much difficulty in deciding how 
 to act in the present jimcture of your affairs, but we are 
 apprehensive that, deprived of the benefit of conversation, 
 we may fail somewhat in explaining our views and inten- 
 tions with that clearness and persuasion which should 
 induce you to accede to our proposal without scruple or 
 hesitation — nay, with that glow of pleasure which the 
 accession of merited good fortime, and the observation of 
 virtuous conduct in others, ought pouierfully to excite in the 
 breast of healthful sensibility. Writing is painful to me. 
 I must endeavor to be concise, yet to avoid abruptness. 
 My brother and myself are possessed of a considerable 
 superfluity of fortune ; squandering and hoarding are 
 equally distant from our inclinations. But we are 
 VOL. I S 
 
25S THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xiv 
 
 earnestly desirous to convert this superfluity into a fund oj 
 be7iefice7ice^ and we have now been accustomed for some 
 time, to regard ourselves rather as Trustees than Fro- 
 prietors. We have canvassed your past life, your present 
 situation and prospects, your character and abilities. As 
 far as certainty is compatible loith the delicacy of the 
 estimate, we have no hesitation in declaring that your 
 claim upon the fund appears to come -under more of the 
 conditions we have prescribed for its disposal, and to be 
 every way more unobjectionable, than we could possibly 
 have expected. This result is so congenial with our heart- 
 felt wishes, that it will be a real mortification to us if any 
 misconception or distrust of our intentions, or any unworthy 
 diffidence of yourself, should interfere to prevent its full 
 operation in your favour. 
 
 '■After what my brother Thomas has written T have 
 only to state the proposal we wish to make to yoit. It is 
 that you shall accept an annuity for life of £i^o, to be 
 regularly paid by us, no condition whatsoever being annexed 
 to it. Thus your liberty will remain entire, you will be 
 under the influence of no professional bias, and will be in 
 possession of & "permanent income not inconsistent with 
 your religious and political creeds," ^ so necessary to your 
 health and activity. 
 
 ' r do fioi now e7iter into the particulars of the mode of 
 securing the annuity, etc. — that will be done when we 
 receive your consent to the proposal we are making ; atid 
 we shall only say that we mean the annuity to be inde- 
 pendent of everything but the wreck of our foi'tutie, an event 
 which we hope is not very likely to happen, though it must 
 in these times be regarded as more than a bare possibility. 
 1 Quotation from S. T. C.'s last letter. 
 
1798 FORWARDED TO COLERIDGE 259 
 
 ' Give me leave now to thank you for the openness 
 with which you have written to ?ne, and the kindness you 
 express for me, to neither of which can T be indifferent, 
 and I shall be happy to derive the advantages from them 
 that a friendly intercourse with you cannot fail to afford 
 me. — / am very sincerely yours, 
 
 'JosiAH Wedgwood.' 
 
 ' Stowey, Saturday, 12 o'clock. 
 
 ' My dearly Beloved — Such is the answer which is 
 sent to your letter. I received it this morning by nine 
 o'clock, and immediately informed Mrs. Coleridge of it, 
 scrawled two notes to you, one directed the Rev. Mr. 
 Rome's, Shreuisbury, the other enclosed in a short letter 
 I wrote to Estlin, desiring him immediately to send or 
 give it to you, and sent off little Tommy to the post-office, 
 where I trust he arrived before the mail went off In 
 my letter to Estlin I informed him of the contents of 
 the above ; told him that when I considered the ministry, 
 and your peculiar character, that I thought you ought 
 not to hesitate to accept the annuity proposed, and that 
 I trusted he would be of the same opinion, as I was 
 satisfied that his approbation of every part of your conduct 
 formed no small ingredient of your happiness. 
 
 ' I now repeat that my opinion is that you ought not 
 to hesitate to accept the annuity. When I consider the 
 MANNER in which the proposal is made, the persons from 
 whom it comes, the property they possess, and the uses 
 to which they have destined that property, I really think 
 it would be palsying that benevolence, which, God be 
 praised, does exist in the human breast, to think of 
 refusing it. This benevolence, in the present case, is 
 
26o THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xiv 
 
 deduced from reason; the utility of it is clearly seen 
 before the feelings are permitted to colour the deed with 
 all that can give joy to the heart of man. The existence 
 of such benevolence is the pledge, and the only pledge, 
 of our perfectibility ; it is, alas ! so overgrown by the 
 various wickedness which has been so systematically 
 excited in the world, that it is rarely seen. You have 
 called it forth in this instance ; don't drive it- back to the 
 honourable breast where it seems peculiarly to keep its 
 court. Excuse my warmth of expression. You can 
 have but two reasons to hesitate : first, that it is more 
 honourable to gain one's own living than to be dependent 
 upon another ; second, that you possibly may be of more 
 use in promoting Christianity as a. minister than as a 
 private man. The first can only be answered by con- 
 sidering the true use which the possessors of wealth ought 
 to make of it, and by your own immutable resolves of 
 falling in with that use — in which case you are not de- 
 pendent, but you labour as effectually for that which 
 you receive, as if you took a spade, and worked for me 
 a day, and received a shilling. You and your friends 
 are only moving in the small sphere which approaches 
 to perfection, which is, by beginnings like these, I trust, 
 to conquer and to involve the whole. Would you prefer 
 sticking to the great circle of vice which heavily, very 
 heavily, now drags itself on ? The second objection is 
 so frivolous that it need not have been mentioned. The 
 nicest notion of honour can only preclude your being an 
 hired minister, while you receive this annuity. You 
 don't think Christianity more pure by coming from the 
 mouth or pen of an hired man ? You are not shackled. 
 Your independence of mind is part of the bond. You 
 
1798 EFFECTS OF SYMPATHY 261 
 
 are to give to mankind that which you think they most 
 want. Religion, if you please, may be, as it will be, 
 the basis of your moral writings — it may shine in your 
 lighter productions, inspire and purify your poetry. You 
 may, if you please, occasionally preach, and these occa- 
 sional addresses are heard with the attention which novelty, 
 as the world is, always excites, and, being gratuitous, 
 possess the aid of disinterestedness on your part, and 
 gratitude on the part of the hearers, to impress on the 
 mind the doctrines you teach. All are well here. 
 Heaven bless and direct you, Thos. Poole.' 
 
 Copies of a letter from Stuart asking for con- 
 tributions, and of a note from Tom Wedgwood 
 begging Coleridge to meet him at Cote House, 
 are forwarded a few days later. Meanwhile Poole 
 has heard of his friend's decision, and adds on 
 the same sheet ^ a few words of exuberant joy and 
 sympathy : — 
 
 ' The receipt of your last letter,' he says, ' made me 
 so happy that I went to a party here in town, and was 
 never so chearful ; never sung so well, never so witty, 
 never so agreeable, — so I was told ten times over ! They 
 little knew the cause which made joy beam from every 
 feature and action. 
 
 ' Make as much haste home as you can, provided it 
 be good speed. You will, of course, stay the necessary 
 time at Cote House. God bless you for ever. . . . 
 Yours affectionately, Thos. Poole.' 
 
 1 Undated ; but Stuart's letter is dated January 20, 1798. 
 
262 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS -chap, xiv 
 
 In SO primitive a place as Nether Stowey, and 
 with a housekeeper so careful as Mrs. Coleridge, 
 and a standard of living so plain as that to which 
 the little family were accustomed, ;£^I50 a year 
 was sufficiency, even though Lloyd had withdrawn 
 himself and returned to Birmingham, and ;£^20 
 had to be subtracted, which Coleridge regularly 
 allowed, year by year, to his wife's mother. For 
 the moment the gnawing pressure of straightened 
 means was removed, Coleridge's nature rose elastic 
 to enjoy the new sense of freedom, and both to 
 him and to Wordsworth, the next six months 
 became one of the very happiest periods in their 
 lives. Wordsworth was under notice to leave 
 Alfoxden in June, and the certainty that the time 
 is limited, during which a particular kind of en- 
 joyment will be within reach, does certainly add 
 intensity to the pleasure we take in it while it lasts. 
 Nature, too, was kind, and the spring and early 
 summer of 1798 were radiantly soft and beautiful. 
 The coombs looked their loveliest, and the two 
 poets fairly lived out of doors together. It is 
 almost painful to trace the allusions to 'that 
 summer' in the closing book of Wordsworth's 
 ' Prelude.' He remembers ' the buoyant spirits, 
 that were their daily portion, when they first 
 together wantoned in wild poesy ' — the ' kindred 
 influence ' which found its way to his ' heart of 
 
1798 'SMOOTH QUANTOCK'S AIRY RIDGE' 263 
 
 hearts ' from ' that capacious soul, placed on this 
 earth to love and understand,' and in whose 
 society 
 
 ' . . . Thoughts and things 
 In the self-haunting spirit learned to take 
 More rational proportions ; mystery, 
 The incumbent mystery of sense and soul, 
 Of life and death, time and eternity, 
 Admitted more habitually a mild 
 Interposition — a serene delight 
 In closelier gathering cares, such as become 
 A human creature howsoe'er endowed. 
 Poet, or destined for a humbler name. 
 And so the deep, enthusiastic joy. 
 The rapture of the hallelujah sent 
 From all that breathes and is, was chastened, stemmed 
 And balanced by pathetic truth, by trust 
 In hopeful reason, leaning on the stay 
 Of Providence ; and in reverence for duty. 
 Here, if need be, struggling with storms, and there 
 Strewing in peace life's humblest ground with herbs. 
 At every season green, sweet at all hours.' 
 
 Recalling the ' memory of that happiness,' he 
 knows well enough that Coleridge too, in looking 
 back, must see, 'in clearer view than any liveliest 
 sight of yesterday, that summer, under whose in- 
 dulgent skies, upon smooth Quantock's airy ridge 
 they roved unchecked, or loitered 'mid her sylvan 
 coombs! The Lyrical Ballads were almost ready 
 for publication, and Coleridge, in the simple glad- 
 
264 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xiv 
 
 ness of his heart, sure of a sympathetic listener, 
 went chaunting ' in bewitching words,' the ' vision 
 of that Ancient Man, the bright -eyed Mariner' ; 
 or recited that lovely fragment of the Lady 
 Christabel, which, amid such surroundings, cer- 
 tainly ought to have been finished, but for that 
 fatal spell of incompleteness which Coleridge 
 never but once seems to have been able to 
 elude ; or listening to Wordsworth ' murmuring 
 of him who, joyous hap, was found, after the 
 perils of his moonlight ride, near the loud water- 
 fall ; or Iter who sate in misery near the miserable 
 Thorn. . . ' 
 
 The entire poem of the ' Idiot Boy ' was sug- 
 gested by some words actually used by a hapless 
 half-wit who was well known in the Stowey neigh- 
 bourhood : ' The cocks did crow, and the moon 
 did shine so cold.' The poem is full of the most 
 tiresome faults and the most exquisite beauties, 
 such as, for instance, the following description of 
 morning twilight : — 
 
 ' By this the stars were almost gone. 
 The moon was setting on the hill. 
 So pale you scarcely looked at her : 
 The little birds began to stir, 
 Though yet their tongues were still. . . ' 
 
 — a stanza which almost makes me forgive Words- 
 worth for having written a poem which, if he had 
 
1798 THE OLD HUNTSMAN 265 
 
 had any sense of humour, he would certainly 
 never have published. It was composed, ' almost 
 extempore,' in the groves of Alfoxden, and was 
 evidently a favourite with the poet himself, per- 
 haps, as his own words would suggest, ' in grati- 
 tude to those happy moments of which it was the 
 offspri7ig.' 
 
 It was at Holford, a village near Alfoxden, 
 that the incident occurred, commemorated by 
 Wordsworth in the ' Last of the Flock,' which to 
 me has always seemed one of the most pathetic 
 poems ever written. Simon Lee, too, had been 
 ' huntsman to the Squires of Alfoxden,' and his 
 ' moss-grown hut of clay ' stood on the common, 
 a little way from the entrance of the park, and 
 ' near the waterfall' Wordsworth knew him well, 
 and had often noted the flicker of former joys in 
 the old man's face whenever ' the chiming hounds 
 were out.' Word for word from his own lips did he 
 take the expression, ' I dearly love their voice, . . .' 
 and that simple, but vividly natural picture of the 
 mingled feebleness and courage of old age among 
 ' the poorest of the poor ' was sketched from life. 
 The hearty outpouring of thanks is specially 
 characteristic of the native-born peasant of the 
 Quantock hills, where, together with the old Celtic 
 names and tricks of pronunciation, there lingers a 
 certain Celtic grace of inbred courtesy of manner— 
 
266 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xiv 
 
 a simple, rustic dignity, rendering to all their due — ■ 
 which I have often observed with admiration, 
 especially in the older people whom I remember 
 in my youth. I trust it is not beginning to die 
 out with the dialect. 
 
1798 ILLNESS OF RICHARD POOLE 267 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 ' I cannot doubt that they whom you deplore 
 Are glorified ; or, if they sleep, shall wake 
 From sleep, and dwell with God in endless love. 
 Hope, below this, consists not with belief 
 In mercy, carried infinite degrees 
 Beyond the tenderness of human hearts : 
 Hope, below this, consists not with belief 
 In perfect wisdom, guiding mightiest power, 
 That finds no limits but her own pure will.' 
 
 Wordsworth, The Excursion, Book IV. 
 
 In that same year, 1798, which was, upon the 
 whole, such a happy one to his friends, a sudden 
 cloud of sorrow, heavy and dark, descended upon 
 Tom Poole. On May 9, the news arrived from 
 Sherborne that his brother Richard had been taken 
 alarmingly ill, and Tom, hurrying off to see him, 
 found him stricken with a malignant fever, whilst 
 his young wife, forced from his side by the pains 
 and perils of childbirth, had, on the very day of 
 Tom Poole's arrival, brought into the world a little 
 daughter. The mother was a widow and the 
 child fatherless before the babe was a week old. 
 
268 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xv 
 
 From the manner in which the letter is addressed 
 we gather that Richard Poole was not actually- 
 dead, but evidently beyond any hope of recovery, 
 when Coleridge penned the following letter on 
 May 14: — 
 
 ' My dearest Friend — I have been sitting many 
 minutes with my pen in my hand, full of prayers and 
 wishes for you, and the house of affliction in which 
 you have so trying a part to sustain — but I know not 
 what to write. May God support you ! May He re- 
 store your brother — but, above all, I pray that He will 
 make us able to cry out with a fervent sincerity, Thy 
 Will be done ! I have had lately some sorrows that 
 have cut more deeply into my heart than they ought to 
 have done, and I have found religion, and commonplace 
 religion too, my restorer and my comfort, giving me 
 gentleness, and calmness, and dignity. Again and again, 
 may God be with you, my best, dear friend ! O believe 
 me, believe me, my Poole ! dearer, to my understanding 
 and affections unitedly, than all else in this world ! 
 
 ' It is almost painful and a thing of fear to tell you 
 that I have another boy ; it will bring upon your mind 
 the too affecting circumstance of Mrs. Richard Poole. 
 The prayers which I have offered for her have been a 
 relief to my own mind ; I would that they could have 
 been a consolation to her. Scripture seems to teach us 
 that our fervent prayers are not without efficacy even for 
 others ; and though my reason is perplexed, yet my 
 internal feelings impel me to a humble faith, that it is 
 possible and consistent with the divine attributes. . . .' 
 
1798 GRIEF AT HIS BROTHER'S DEATH 269 
 
 A few days later Thomas Poole returned 
 home in such grief that even Coleridge shrank 
 from approaching him, till assured that his presence 
 would be acceptable. Here is a note, written on 
 ' Sunday morning,' and endorsed ' from Coleridge. 
 May 20, '98' : — 
 
 ' My dearest Poole — I was all day yesterday in a 
 distressing perplexity whether or no it would be wise or 
 consolatory for me to call at your house — or whether I 
 should write to your mother, as a Christian friend — or 
 whether it would not be better to wait for the exhaustion 
 of that grief which must have its way. . . . 
 
 ' . . . Do you wish to see me to-day ? Shall I call on 
 you ? Shall I stay with you ? Or had I better leave 
 you uninterrupted ? 
 
 ' In all your sorrows as in your joys, I am, indeed, my 
 dearest Poole, a true and faithful sharer. May God 
 bless and comfort you all ! S. T. Coleridge.' 
 
 Poor Tom Poole took his trouble very hard ; 
 there had been a more than ordinary closeness 
 of sympathy between himself and his brother, and 
 his departure left a wound which was, perhaps, 
 only healed by the gradual comfort that came to 
 him through his intense devotion to his brother's 
 fatherless child. ' You can scarcely conceive,' 
 writes one who remembers them both, ' the extra- 
 ordinary vehemence of Mr. Tom Poole's affection 
 for his niece.' But this was years later, when the 
 
270 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xv 
 
 babe had grown into a girl ; in her baby days she 
 was indeed a treasure, but one whose very sight 
 recalled painful memories. 
 
 ' I shall be more likely to see you at Salisbury than at 
 Sherborne,' he writes to the eldest of the Miss Warwicks,^ 
 who had informed him of an intended removal of their 
 school to Salisbury. ' My associations concerning Salis- 
 bury are at any rate neuter, nay, rather pleasant. But 
 when I think of Sherborne, Miss Warwick, there is such 
 a load at my heart, such a tumult of agony in my mind, 
 as are altogether intolerable. I little thought how de- 
 pendent a being I was. It was right that I should be 
 taught. Be it so. I cannot bow in resignation. You 
 will remember me, I pray, first, to Henrietta and all 
 your family ; next, to all that loved my brother and 
 knew his value. Mrs. Poole is tolerably well. The 
 precious little infant is her comfort. She has just passed 
 through the smallpox very favourably ^ — and is a most 
 interesting baby.' 
 
 But in moving on to October, I have too much 
 anticipated the course of events, and must go 
 back to the days when the date fixed for Wordsr 
 worth's departure from Alfoxden was drawing 
 nearer and nearer ; and in the consideration of 
 future plans, the idea of going to Germany to 
 study the language and literature had been sug- 
 gested, perhaps by Thomas Wedgwood, in one of 
 his visits at Tom Poole's, and was being enter- 
 
 1 In October 1798. ^ i.e. inoculation. 
 
1798 IMPRESSIONS OF AN OLD FRIEND 271 
 
 tained with some eagerness, by Coleridge even 
 more than by Wordsworth, whilst the generous 
 Wedgwoods, acting on their principle that wealth 
 is a trust to be wisely and thoughtfully expended 
 by those to whom it is confided, for the general 
 good, were ready and willing to provide the 
 necessary funds. It seems to have been prin- 
 cipally for conference on this subject that Coleridge 
 visited Mr. Josiah Wedgwood at Stoke, in June, 
 stopping on the way first at Bristol and then at 
 Brentford, at which latter place he was the guest 
 of Poole's old friend, Mr. Purkis, of whom he thus 
 gives his impressions : — 
 
 ' My dear Poole — I arrived in Bristol on Monday 
 evening, spent the next day at Estlin's, who opposed my 
 German tx^pedxtion furore per-religioso, amicissimo furore. 
 At Brentford I arrived Wednesday evening, and was 
 driven by Mr. Purkis great part of the way to Stoke on 
 Thursday evening; and here I am, well, etc. etc. . . . Purkis 
 is a gentleman, with the free and cordial and interesting 
 manners of the man of literature. His colloquial diection 
 is uncommonly pleasing, his information various, his own 
 mind elegant and acute. These are but general expres- 
 sions ; but this I can say, that if he liked me as well as 
 I liked him, I have left very agreeable thoughts and 
 feelings in the mind of an excellent man. And I like 
 Mrs. Purkis. 
 
 ' The Wedgwoods received me with joy and affection. 
 I have been metaphysicizing so long and so closely with 
 T.- Wedgwood, that I am a caput mortuum, mere lees 
 
272 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xv 
 
 and residuum. . . . This place is a noble, large house 
 in a rich, pleasant country ; but the little Toe of 
 Quantock is better than the head and shoulders of Surrey 
 and Middlesex. These dull places, however, have the 
 effect of livehness from their being a variety to me. May 
 you say the same by this letter, for it is scarcely worth 
 the postage. . . — Yours ever, S. T. Coleridge.' 
 
 In that same month of June Wordsworth and 
 his sister quitted Alfoxden, and after a short stay 
 at Coleridge's house at Stowey, and a week at 
 Cottle's, started together on a walking tour along 
 the banks of the Wye, of which the poetical 
 fruits were the lines on Tintern Abbey. Then 
 they took lodgings in Bristol, so that Wordsworth 
 might be near the printer, whilst the Lyrical 
 Ballads were issuing from the press. Here Cole- 
 ridge visited them, and the German plan began 
 to take definite shape. On August 3, 1798 he 
 writes to lay the matter before Poole, telling him 
 he thinks ' the realisation of the scheme of great 
 importance to his intellectual activity, and, of 
 course, to his moral happiness.' Whether to take 
 Mrs. Coleridge and the children is another question, 
 both on account of the expense and of the un- 
 settled state of the continent. It will be more 
 prudent to go alone in the first instance, for three 
 or four months, after which he can either fetch 
 over his family, or return • with his German for 
 
1798 A FAREWELL LETTER 273 
 
 his pains.' Poole must consider the whole scheme, 
 and be ready to advise him, for in another week 
 he will be in Stowey. He intends to ' dart into 
 Wales,' and return by Swansea ' usque ad Bridg- 
 water sive Cummage. . . .' 
 
 When the printing of the Lyrical Ballads was 
 completed, the Wordsworths removed to London. 
 About a fortnight afterwards, on September 1 6, they 
 sailed from Yarmouth, together with Coleridge, 
 and arrived at Hamburgh two days later, after a 
 voyage of which Coleridge wrote an amusing 
 description in a long letter to Mr. Poole. His 
 very last act, before the packet started, had been 
 to pen a few lines of affectionate farewell •} — 
 
 ' Myvery dear Poole — We have arrived at Yarmouth 
 just in time to be hurried into the packet — and four or 
 five letters of recommendation have been taken away from 
 me, owing to their being wafered. Wedgwood's luckily 
 were not. 
 
 ' I am on the point of leaving my native country for 
 the first time, a country which, God Almighty knows, is 
 dear to me above all things for the love I bear to you. 
 Of many friends whom I love and esteem, my head and 
 heart have ever chosen you as the friend — as the one being 
 in whom is involved the full and whole meaning of that 
 sacred title. God love you, my dear Poole, and your 
 faithful and most affectionate S. T. Coleridge. 
 
 ' We may be only two days, we may be a fortnight going. 
 
 ^ Postmark, September 17, 1798. 
 VOL. I T 
 
274 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xv 
 
 The same of the packet that returns. So do not let my 
 poor Sara be alarmed if she do not hear from me. 1 
 will write alternately to you and to her, twice every week 
 during my absence. May God preserve us, and make 
 us continue to be joy, and comfort, and wisdom, and 
 virtue to each other, my dear, dear Poole ! ' 
 
 In the following month, July 1798, Charlotte 
 Poole went to live in Bridgwater, to keep house 
 for her brother Ruscombe.-' Here is an extract 
 from her journal of October 3 in the same year : — ■ 
 
 ' The mail came in covered with laurels, and brought 
 the account of the complete defeat of the French fleet, 
 at the mouth of the Nile, by Admiral Nelson. The 
 cannons were instantly set firing, and an almost general 
 illumination took place. One obstinate democrat who 
 refused to put up lights had his windows entirely 
 destroyed.' 
 
 In those far-off days telegrams and railways as 
 yet were not ; the earliest intimation of great news 
 from the seat of war always arrived at Bridgwater 
 in the form of some tumultuous rumour, flying 
 from mouth to mouth, of laurels on the London 
 Coach, which would bring everybody into the 
 streets to learn the truth, and to see Mr. Anstice 
 
 ' The writer's grandfather. He, too, had a passion for usefulness. 
 When his children desired to raise some monument to his memory, 
 the thing that occurred to them as most appropriate, was a school for 
 the education of the children of the poor, in what was then a neglected 
 part of the town. 
 
1798 NEWS FROM THE WAR 275 
 
 come hurrying out to get his newspaper — for that 
 Mr. Anstice took in a London newspaper was an 
 important and well-known fact. Then, almost 
 before he had it well into his hand, lo ! there was 
 a barrel reared up on end near the Market Cross, 
 which he was then and there expected to mount, 
 and to read the news aloud to his fellow townsmen, 
 which, indeed, he always did, upon such occasions, 
 in the most patriotic manner, and amid the eager 
 acclamations of the crowd. 
 
 The arrival of a telegram is not half so dramatic, 
 though no doubt a far swifter and surer mode of 
 obtaining intelligence ; just as the present Cornhill, 
 as the open space in the centre of the town is still 
 called, with circular-fronted market-house adorned 
 with pillars, is as much more convenient as it is 
 less picturesque than the old one, with its fine old 
 Market Cross, bearing the excellent motto, 'Let 
 every one mind his own business,' which was de- 
 stroyed over half a century ago by a set of wild 
 young men, who had formed themselves into a 
 Committee of Grievances, and having voted the 
 Market Cross to be obstructive, decided that it was 
 their business to pull it down. 
 
 The news of the battle of the Nile has a special 
 connection with what I think may be considered 
 as the second greatest friendship of Tom Poole's 
 life ; for it was in the very same week of October, 
 
276 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xv 
 
 1798, that Humphrey Davy, then a lad of nineteen, 
 left Penzance for Bristol, where, as we have seen, 
 he was to undertake the superintendence of Dr. 
 Beddoes' Pneumatic Institution. The news of the 
 great naval victory reached Devon one day later 
 than it reached Somerset, therefore it was not till 
 October 4 that the happy-hearted youth, strong 
 in the modest consciousness of his own powers, 
 and fairly overflowing with exultation at having 
 obtained his first opportunity of showing what he 
 could do, met at Okehampton the laurel-crowned 
 coach, streaming with ribbons, that was bearing 
 the tidings westward, and was lifted to a still higher 
 pitch of exhilaration by the glorious intelligence. 
 
 A scheme to which Tom Wedgwood had given 
 ;i"iOOO could not fail to be a subject of interest to 
 Tom Poole, and some time in i 799 he was intro- 
 duced to Davy at the Pneumatic Institution, where 
 he ' inhaled his nitrous oxide with the usual ex- 
 traordinary and transitory sensations.' ^ But ' the 
 interesting conversation, manners, and appearance 
 of the youthful operator ' made no transitory 
 impression ; and it is easy to understand how 
 delightful to a nature like his the discovery of such 
 a being as Davy must have been, and what a con- 
 solation it must have afforded in the flatness which 
 
 ■■ Poole's letter to Dr. Paris. Published in Fragmentary Remains 
 of Sir H. Davy, by his brother. 
 
1798 SATYRANE'S LETTERS 277 
 
 the departure of Coleridge had left, to find himself 
 enjoying once again that rare pleasure of intercourse 
 Vflth. genius, which to him was the crowning charm of 
 life. Acquaintance quickly ripened into friendship, 
 and the foundations were soon laid of a lasting 
 lifelong regard. 
 
 Meanwhile Coleridge had not, of course, written 
 as often as he had planned to do ; was it to be 
 expected that he should ? But he had written, 
 and did write, pretty fully and continually, and 
 many of his letters are already known to the public, 
 having been published in the Biographia Liter aria 
 under the name of Satyrane's Letters.^ In these, 
 however, all that is intimate and personal has 
 been omitted ; nor perhaps was it necessary to re- 
 produce the exceeding homeliness of the details 
 which occasionally passed between the two friends. 
 Some readers, however, may be interested in the 
 following selections from Thomas Poole's side of 
 the correspondence, illustrated by quotations 
 from those passages in Coleridge's letters to 
 which they refer. 
 
 I 
 
 'Stowey, October?,, 1798. 
 
 ' My very dear Col. — ^We have received all your four 
 
 ' Spenser's Satyrane — 
 
 ' Plain, faithful, true, and enemy of shame. 
 Who far abroad for strange adventures sought.' 
 
 Faery Queen, Canto VI. 
 
278 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xv 
 
 letters ^ . . . and have been made most happy to hear 
 from each stage that you were well. May God preserve 
 your health till you return, and always. This homespun 
 wish is at last the very best we can feel for our friends. 
 We are going on at Stowey just as when you left us. 
 Mrs. C. and the children are perfectly well. Mrs. C. 
 keeps up her spirits, and I believe every one is anxious to 
 make her happy. My poor mother suffers — still she 
 suffers. What a mysterious affliction for so good a woman ! 
 
 ' If we have no domestic news, we have had brilliant 
 publick news : the resplendent victory gained by Nelson 
 has, I imagine, lit up the world from the north to the 
 southern pole. We illuminated at Stowey, all except 
 that mulish fellow W. 
 
 ' We long for your journal. Be sure to be particular, 
 and don't mind a little trouble in writing — and write 
 with good pens upon large paper ; let the hand be very 
 small, and the lines very close together. . . . 
 
 ' We were amused by your account of the sea and your 
 companions during your passage. ^ The sparkling waves, 
 I imagine, charmed away your share of sickness. You 
 have seen Klopstock ! Be particular in describing the 
 physiognomy and stature of all such men, as well as 
 noting their habits and sayings. The Wordsworths have 
 left you — so there is an end of our fears about amalga- 
 mation, etc. I think you both did perfectly right. It 
 was right for them to find a cheaper situation ; and it 
 was right for you to avoid the expense of travelling, 
 provided you are where pure German is spoken. You 
 will, of course, frequently hear from Wordsworth. When 
 
 ' Two to Mrs. Coleridge, two to himself. 
 ''■ Satyrane's Letters. 
 
1798 POOLE'S REPLIES 279 
 
 you write remember me to him and to his sister, and 
 thank him for his tragedy, which I am to receive from 
 the Wedgwoods. Thank him in proportion as I value 
 the present, which is indeed very highly. . . . 
 
 ' You are now, dear Col., fixed in Germany, and what 
 you have to do is to attend wholly to those things which 
 are better attained in Germany than elsewhere. Let 
 nothing divert you from them. And, on this considera- 
 tion, I should spend no time to send anything to Stewart 
 but what was involved in the progress of those pursuits. 
 If any matter to narrate occurred, which, for certain, 
 could be despatched without exertion of mind, or any 
 great consumption of time, send it to him. But begin 
 no poetry — no original composition — unless translation 
 from German may be so called. One thing which you 
 must determine to acquire while you are in Germany is 
 as perfect a knowledge of the language as possible. 
 You will thus have to show one distinct and almost 
 tangible addition to your stock of knowledge, for the 
 trouble and expence to yourself, for the anxieties and 
 fears of your family and friends, incurred by this journey. 
 . . Beware of being too much with Chester. I could 
 wish you had not both been in one house. Speak nothing 
 but German. Live with Germans. Read in German. 
 Think in German. Don't mind a few pounds while you 
 are out for any assistance in learning German; nor, 
 while you are out, must you regard a few weeks or 
 months of time. You must stay long enough to do the 
 business you are gone to do ; but do it as quick as you 
 can do it well. . . ■ 
 
 'Make a strict arrangement of your time and chain your- 
 self down to it. This may not be advisable for the gener- 
 
28o THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xv 
 
 ality, but I am persuaded it would counteract a disease 
 of your mind — which is an active subtilty of imagination 
 ever suggesting reasons to push off whatever excites a 
 moment of languor or ennui. This many of your friends 
 falsely call irresolution. No one has more resolution and 
 decision than you ; no one sooner sees the side of a 
 question on which the balance of argument turns. But 
 then that same habit of giving free scope to the activity 
 of your imagination, makes it death to you to chain 
 the mind long to any particular object. This habit to 
 acquire a language must be conqicered, and I am sure is 
 conquerable. To acquire a language — nay, to acquire 
 excellence in any point. . . You desired me to send 
 you some agricultural queries. ... I can find no 
 general ones in the reports of the Board of Agriculture 
 which would suit your purpose ; I should think it would 
 be a good object for Chester to take a very accurate ac- 
 count of the agriculture, horticulture, implements relat- 
 ing to those objects, and, in short, of every species of 
 rural and domestic management which he has the 
 opportunity of observing, or collecting information on. 
 
 ' I know not that I can say anything more. I thank 
 you for the books I am to receive, which I will read — 
 Home Tooke's work, if I can, with particular attention. 
 I feel how little I know of English, and I would wish to 
 know it well. Mrs. C. will write you a long letter 
 next. . . . My mother desires her dear love to you. 
 She weeps with a mother's affection at hearing your 
 letters read. Sir John Sinclair, in his plan for reward- 
 ing useful discoveries by an agreement among the 
 European powers and America, states that it is said a 
 German physician has found out a very effectual pallia- 
 
1798 HOME DETAILS 281 
 
 tive, if not a cure, for the stone. Do inquire about it. 
 And though you shall not fly home, yet let a letter fly 
 with all speed if such a thing is to be found. God bless 
 you, my dear Col. I shall just take and read this letter 
 to Mrs. C. and send it off by the boy who is waiting. 
 From your sincere friend, Thos. Poole. 
 
 'P.S. — I see there were very general queries given by 
 the Board of Agriculture to the Surveyors of the Counties 
 of England, and as they will answer pretty well for all 
 countries, Ward shall copy them and I will send them 
 in my next. Ward's kind love.' 
 
 II 
 
 ' November 22,, 1798. 
 
 ' My very dear Col. — We have received your letters, 
 and I need not say how delighted and happy we are 
 when we receive them. You have by this time, I hope, re- 
 ceived Mrs. Coleridge's long letter. . . . Mrs. Col. and the 
 little ones are perfectly well. Berkeley was, as you have 
 heard, well peppered with the smallpox, but never in any 
 danger. . . . He is a delightful boy, and we begin to 
 think him very like you. Hartley speaks everything, 
 and knows two or three letters. . . . He knows the names 
 of all the books in the house which have pictures in 
 them. . . . My dear mother is much better. She gets 
 up now by ten, and sits up frequently after me. I went 
 to bed and left her and Mrs. Coleridge chatting two 
 nights ago. Lime water was the last thing she took, 
 and to the last thing, you know, we always attribute the 
 most efficacy. . . . Your progress in the German 
 language amazes us. Proceed, proceed. Make your- 
 self, I charge you, compleatly master of it. I shall post- 
 
282 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xv 
 
 pone looking at it before you come home, and then, before 
 I look, we must talk about it. The wish that I should 
 know what you know is very natural — 'twas what I always 
 felt when I used to urge you to learn French. I do not 
 say I won't apply to it ; but a language — and the German 
 language — is an arduous task. . . . You say you wish 
 to come home ; I need not say we wish to see you — but 
 I trust you and we can submit to absence till every ob- 
 ject of your journey be attained. Be unremittingly 
 diligent in attaining those objects, but stay till they are 
 attained. Have you heard from the Wordsworths ? Let 
 us hear how they go on. Stuart has written a very 
 kind letter to Mrs. Coleridge. He is afraid that he 
 offended you, as you did not call before you left London. 
 He says he hopes you consider his engagement as exist- 
 ing with you. He has been anxiously expecting the com- 
 munication you promised him respecting German litera- 
 ture. . . . Why have you not sent it? Though I repeat that 
 I advise you not to suffer your thoughts to stray from the 
 main objects, to send communications to Stewart, if in 
 pursuing those objects suitable matter occur, transmit 
 it. By way of a little remuneration for the advantages 
 I gain by Stewart, I have taken it into my head to 
 write an essay concerning the encroachments of men on 
 the ernployments of women — which Mrs. C. this day 
 sent him. She has told him if it suit his purpose it is at 
 his service ; if not, to throw it aside without ceremony. 
 To finish on the plan I have begun with will take half 
 a dozen essays about the length of a Spectator. The 
 subject is important, and though old, is interesting, and 
 one on which I think a man may honestly write with 
 the hope of doing good. . . . 
 
1798 AGRICULTURAL QUESTIONS 283 
 
 ' Mrs. Coleridge desires me to ask you if you have any 
 objection to your letters being read when she goes to 
 Bristol to your friends there? Ward copies them all 
 into a book. I read extracts from the letters, according 
 to the dispositions and capacities of the hearers.' 
 
 The promised list of agricultural questions 
 follows, copied in Ward's handwriting. 
 
 'You'll have enough to do, even with the assistance 
 of the Muses, to answer all these questions ; and if those 
 ladies, (though once so complaisant to Virgil) should turn 
 up their noses if enhsted by you into the service, I 
 would recommend you to consign those inquiries to 
 Chester, or, at any rate, to make him your pioneer in the 
 business. . . . Well, my dear, dear Col., I don't know that 
 I have anything more to say. May God Almighty bless 
 you and ever make you happy. May you live long to 
 undeceive the miserable reptiles who have been so busy 
 to disturb your tranquillity ; and while you are respected 
 and beloved by the best of your own country, and by the 
 most respectable strangers whom you meet, let those 
 tapers which blink in the noontide sun burn out and 
 die away by their own nature. — Once more believe me, 
 with entire affection, yours ever, ' Thos. Poole. 
 
 ^ J'.S. . . . Have you the opportunity of any good 
 libraries where you are ? Is your host a man of litera- 
 ture ? You will, of course, buy some German books. . . . 
 y^TiXt. particularly, long, a.i\d freqtiently. Write all about 
 your own pursuits above all. This is writing about our- 
 selves, for you are a part of ourselves. Once more Adieu. 
 My mother desires her dear love to you. And kind 
 remembrances I am desired to give by dozens.' 
 
284 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xv 
 
 III 
 ' Stowev, ye 2\th January 1799. 
 
 ' My very dear Col. — We were rejoiced last night by 
 the receipt of your two letters, one for Mrs. Coleridge, the 
 other for me. When letters from Hamburg were announced 
 Ward jumped up and twirled round like a whirlygig, in 
 spite of the barricade of chairs and tables that were near 
 him, to the great derangement of the bread and cheese, 
 and two or three full glasses of beer which were splashed 
 over. I sat grinning and broke the seal. Why will you 
 make yourself unhappy at not hearing from us ? It is 
 true I cannot account any more than you for the irregu- 
 larity of the packets, but I consider it utterly impossible, 
 situated as we are, with the feelings we reciprocally 
 possess, that we can neglect writing sufficiently frequently 
 to satisfy those feelings ; therefore, if I had not known 
 that the ice prevented the arrival of the Hamburg mails, 
 I should have attributed our not hearing from you to an 
 irregularity in the conveyance of which I knew nothing. 
 Be assured, unless we are all taken off in a whirlwind, 
 that, if you do not hear from us, it will always arise from 
 the miscarriage or delay of a letter. 
 
 ' Mrs. Coleridge went to Bristol the last day of the old 
 year. . . . She arrived safely at Bristol with the little ones, 
 and is very well Hartley is very well ; nothing ails 
 him. He is a most amusing rogue. Berkeley had a 
 cough which prevailed amongst the children here. I 
 find from my sister that the change of air has been of 
 great service to him ; but the particulars of the children 
 Mrs. C. will inform you of Let, my dear Col., nothing 
 trouble you. When Berkeley had the small-pox, and gave 
 
1799 ANXIETY DEPRECATED 285 
 
 his mother trouble, I assure you she and all of us rejoiced 
 you were not at home. I forwarded this morning the 
 letter for Mrs. C. I did not open it, as she told me I 
 must not if it was a small letter ; however, I desired her, 
 after she had had the first view of it, and if it was not 
 too foolish, to send it to me. I am delighted to hear of 
 your progress in German; dehghted to hear of your 
 progress in mastering the untired and unbidden excur- 
 sions of your mind. Perfect yourself, oh perfect your- 
 self, I pray you, in this latter discipline, for who knows 
 how to do well like you, if you could acquire power to 
 do it. . 
 
 ' I am highly pleased with your intended removal to 
 Gottingen. Being a university it must possess advantages 
 which your present situation does not — to say nothing of 
 the economy of the plan. . . . But once more, my dearly 
 beloved, let me entreat you not to over-interest yourself 
 about your family and friends here ; not to incapacitate 
 yourself by idle apprehensions and tender reveries of 
 imagination concerning us. Those things are wrong. 
 They can do no good, and you are not fit to see many 
 people, and many nations, if you indulge in them. Mrs. 
 Coleridge has sent me from Bristol the letter you wrote 
 her. Was it well to indulge in, much less to express, 
 such feelings concerning any circumstance which could 
 relate to two infants ? I do not mean to check tender- 
 ness, for in the folly of tenderness I can sympathise — 
 but be rational, I implore you — in your present situation, 
 your happiness depends upon it. I was grieved to hear 
 of your eyes. Take care of your health, remember that. 
 Water and vegetable food will not do for you. . . . 
 
 ' We received from Johnson six copies of the poems 
 
286 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xv 
 
 the Account of Paraguay, and the Essay on Pof illation, 
 but not the Diversions of Purley. Every one admires 
 the poems, and I am told they are much admired in 
 London. As to the house — I have long felt that in 
 Lime Street is unsuitable for you. The old house at 
 Woodlands, Wilmott intends living in himself; the new 
 house is too large. What think you of the house in 
 which Hancock lived at Stowey ? . . . There is a com- 
 munication with the fields behind, a good garden, and a 
 noble room adjoining the garden, retired from the house. 
 The rent . . . may be ;^i6 or_;^i8 a year; perhaps I 
 am beyond the mark. However, you may be certain I 
 shall keep an eye on every house to be had here and in 
 the neighbourhood. / will not part from you, if you 
 will not part from me; be assured of that. I can truly 
 say that your society is a principal ingredient of my 
 happiness, a principal source of my improvement. The 
 time will, I trust, come, when it will contribute still more 
 than it has done both to the one and to the other. God 
 send you in due time safely home is my present prayer. 
 I have lately been very idle. I began learning Greek, 
 and am now oscillating whether I shall attend to it or 
 go on with what I had in my mind ••■ before you left 
 Stowey. The only advantages I see in Greek are, read- 
 ing the New Testament in the original language, knowing 
 something which forms a part of a good education, and 
 being -made happy by the magick of sound — for the sense 
 at any rate which T should find in the Greek writers I 
 presume we have translated. Perhaps it is my duty to 
 proceed with the other ; it may be working the works of 
 Him that sent me ere the night cometh. The night 
 ^ Political Economy, I fancy. 
 
1799 A FOREWARNING- 287 
 
 descended, as you know, on one half of our family 
 suddenly, and so it may on me. Think of that. Col., 
 when, if you hear an infant, an unconscious infant, 
 is recovered from an illness, you indulge in tumultuous 
 feelings. Remember me affectionately to the Words- 
 worths. Should they settle near Stowey they may 
 depend on all my good offices to make them comfort- 
 able. But has Wordsworth any idea of returning soon 
 from Germany?' 
 
 Messages and greetings and details of his 
 mother's improved health follow, and the letter 
 concludes : — 
 
 ' Once more I implore you to permit no circumstance, 
 of whatever nature, to make you unhappy. All that 
 depends on you, you do ; therefore you have no cause 
 to be unhappy. Whatever is external — independent of 
 you — what have you to do with it 2 — For ever your 
 affectionate Thos. Poole.' 
 
 This letter was re-addressed at Ratzburg to 
 Gottingen. 
 
THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xvi 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 ' Life ! Power ! Being ! Organisation may be and probabl}' is their 
 
 effect ; their cause it cannot be! . . .' 
 ' Oh ! this strange, strange, strange Scene-shifter, Death ! . . . ' 
 S. T. C. to T. P. on the death of his infant. 
 
 When Thomas Poole wrote the last sentences 
 it is probable that he foresaw an approaching trial 
 which his friend would be certain to feel more 
 deeply than he was at that time able to com- 
 prehend, tender and true as his sympathies 
 usually were. Thomas Poole was not a father, 
 and the quaint simplicity with which he sets forth 
 the unreasonableness of any vehement going forth 
 of the affection to an unconscious infant, discovers 
 a most masculine absence of sentiment in relation 
 to babies. Perhaps it is only fathers and mothers, 
 but especially mothers, who instinctively recognise 
 the individual soul with its infinite possibilities in 
 the little undeveloped human creature ; certainly 
 Tom Poole writes as if, in his mind, a baby 
 scarcely ranked as a human being. Still, in 
 
1799 DEATH OF THE INFANT BERKELEY 289 
 
 sympathy, it is personality that conveys comfort, 
 not the actual words that are said ; and Poole 
 suited Coleridge. The letter, such as it was, in 
 which he informed him of the infant's death, drew 
 forth just such an outpouring in response as more 
 than anything else relieves a burdened heart, and 
 which it is a victory of sympathy to win from 
 sorrow. 
 
 Inoculation was a process always attended 
 with much discomfort and inconvenience, and the 
 fact that this or that infant has ' got safely over 
 the smallpox ' is often recorded with expressions 
 of thankfulness in the family letters of this period. 
 Little Berkeley Coleridge was supposed to have 
 passed happily through the ordeal, yet there had 
 been some anxiety on his account, and perhaps he 
 did not really recover as he should have done. 
 Presently, as we have seen, he contracted a cough, 
 which had resisted all the usual remedies, but 
 which his mother hoped might yield to change of 
 air. In February, 1 799, an undated letter, written 
 in the first tumult of her grief, comes to say that 
 all is over. 
 
 'Monday, Noon. 
 
 ' Oh, my dear Mr. Poole, I have lost my dear, dear 
 child ! At one o'clock on Sunday morning a convulsive 
 fit put an end to his painful existence. Myself and two 
 of his aunts were watching by his cradle. I wish I had 
 not seen it, for I am sure it will never leave my memory. 
 
 VOL. I U 
 
290 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xvi 
 
 Sweet babe ! what will thy father feel when he shall hear 
 of thy sufferings and death? I am perfectly aware of 
 everything you have said on the subject in your letter. 
 I shall not yet write to Coleridge, and when I do, I will 
 pass over all disagreeable subjects with the greatest care, 
 for well I know their violent effect upon him — but I 
 account myself most unfortunate in being at a distance 
 from him at this time, wanting his consolation as I do, 
 and feeling my griefs almost too much to support with 
 fortitude. ... I suppose you will have received from 
 Coleridge the promised letter for me. I long for it, for 
 I am very miserable. . . .' 
 
 Southey, with his usual kindness, was seeing to 
 the little funeral, and would take the bereaved 
 mother, and her remaining child, back with him to 
 his home at Westbury immediately afterwards ; but 
 still she begs Tom Poole to come to her, and con- 
 fides to him the little details of her situation as to an 
 almost father. Her money is nearly spent. Can he 
 supply her till Samuel makes some provision? She 
 does not choose to be obliged to any one at Bristol. 
 Perhaps her husband thinks she has enough to last 
 till his return, not knowing her situation. To 
 Tom Poole, also, was entrusted the task of breaking 
 the news to Coleridge, which he does as follows: — 
 
 IV 
 
 'March 15, 1799.' 
 
 ' My ever dear Col. — The Hamburg mail at length 
 arrived, but it brought no great weight of pleasure for 
 ' Bristol postmark, March 18. 
 
[799 POOLE BREAKS THE NEWS 291 
 
 ne. One letter came for Mrs. Coleridge, which, as she 
 iesired, I opened. ... I sent it to Mrs. C. at Bristol, 
 md desired her not to write to you till I had written, 
 md that I would forward her my letter to read. I have 
 ;his morning heard from her. . . . She is very well, and I 
 shall send her this letter that she may read it and for- 
 ward it to you. Perhaps even by reading so far, yon feel 
 'he reason for my wishing to write to you before Mrs. 
 I!oleridge. I suspect you feel it by the anticipations in 
 rour last letter. You say there that you have serious mis- 
 givings concerning Berkeley — well — you now, my dear 
 Dol., know the worst. I thus give you to understand the 
 ;atastrophe of the drama, without heightening it by first 
 larrating the circumstances which led to it ; but, as you 
 vill hear by and by, those circumstances were purely 
 latural, and such as probably no human conduct or fore- 
 light could have averted. The child was got perfectly well 
 )ut of the smallpox, and enjoyed a clear interval of health 
 )efore he was seized with a cough. ... As he did not get 
 )etter, the medical men, and indeed all of us, advised 
 yirs. C. to go to Bristol and try change of air, or 
 ather to carry into execution the visit she intended. For 
 lome time the child appeared better, but the cough again 
 eturned, and he lost flesh and grew weaker daily — in 
 ;hort, from the accounts Mrs. Coleridge wrote me, I was 
 luite prepared for the event, ... On examination it 
 vas found that he died of a consumption. Mrs. Cole- 
 idge was much fatigued during the child's illness, but 
 ler health was very good, and she very wisely kept up 
 ler spirits. . . . 
 
 ' I have thus, my dear Col., informed you of the 
 vhole truth. It was long contrary to my opinion 
 
292 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xvi 
 
 to let you know of the child's death before your arrival 
 in England. And I thought, and still think myself 
 justified in that notion, by the ovER-anxiety you ex- 
 pressed in your former letters concerning the children. 
 Doubtless the affection found to exist between parents 
 and infant children is a wise law of nature, a mere instinct 
 to preserve Man in his infant state. . . . But the moment 
 you make this affection the creature of reason, you 
 degrade reason. When the infant becomes a reasonable 
 being, then let the affection be a thing of reason, not 
 before. Brutes can only have an instinctive affection. 
 Hence, when that ceases to be necessary, all affection 
 ceases. This seems to me to be a great line of demar- 
 cation between Men and Beasts, between Reason and 
 Instinct. If then the love of infants be a mere instinct, it 
 is extraordinary that sensible men should be much dis- 
 turbed at the counteraction of it, particularly when the 
 end of that action, if I may so speak, becomes a nullity. 
 Certainly, if I had an only child, and no hopes of 
 another, who alone was to be the solace of my age, 
 who was to take my property, to bear my name, to re- 
 present myself; in short, to be another self — certainly, if 
 this child were to die, I should feel my earthly being as 
 it were suddenly stopped, and something like a feeling 
 of annihilation would occur, which of all others is the 
 most disconsolate. But this is not your case. Hartley is 
 brave and well, and hke to give you grandchildren and 
 great-grandchildren, ad libitum; and, I need not add, 
 very likely to have a plenty of brothers and sisters. 
 The truth is, my dear Col., it is idle to reason about a 
 thing of this nature. Therefore I talk quaintly — your 
 mind must suggest everything I can suggest and more. 
 
799 RELATES A DISAPPOINTMENT 293 
 
 Dnly let your mind act, and not your feelings. Don't 
 onjure up any scenes of distress which never happened. 
 tirs. Coleridge felt as a mother . . . and, in an exemplary 
 nanner, did all a mother could do. But she never for- 
 'ot herself. She is now perfectly well, and does not 
 nake herself miserable by recalling the engaging, though, 
 emember, mere instinctive attractions of an infant a few 
 nonths old.^ Heaven and Earth ! I have myself within 
 he last month experienced disappointments more weighty 
 han the death of ten infants. There are two particular 
 riends of yours and mine,^ who offered, ten days ago, 
 ^22,000 for a delightful estate within seven miles of 
 jtowey. But for a most untoward circumstance which I 
 lave not now room to explain, they would have had it. . . . 
 ; was much interested, and for a fortnight busily em- 
 )loyed about this business. They came down and saw 
 he estate, and were determined, I believe, to purchase 
 t almost at any price. Now as to the pecuniary dis- 
 ippointment, as far as it relates to them, or as to the 
 Dersonal one, as far as it relates to you and me, it may 
 lot be very weighty, though whatever it be, it is 
 ■ational ; but the loss to the neighbourhood is incalcul- 
 ible. A humane and wise expenditure of a large income 
 ffould have been an example so novel and extraordinary 
 
 ' Poor Mrs. Coleridge ! It may be questioned whether Tom 
 Poole knew what he was talking about. Neither he nor Coleridge, 
 ifter this exchange of letters, ever mention the lost child, but 
 ^ears afterwards she alludes to him again and again as a loved and 
 iving memory in her letters to Tom Poole. She remembers his 
 Dirthday, realises what his age would have been, and once almost 
 :)reaks down with emotion when a Stowey acquaintance visits her, of 
 whom she recollects that, when last they met, she sat long by 
 Berkeley's cradle. 
 
 2 The Wedgwoods. 
 
294 THOMAS POOLE "AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xv: 
 
 to our country gentlemen, that I could not help antici 
 pating much good from it, to say nothing of the happiness 
 they would have conferred on individuals immediatel) 
 within the sphere of their action. The failure of a plar 
 of this nature I take to be a justifiable cause for regret. 
 
 ' Another circumstance has occurred to me within a 
 month, which mixes so much feeling with so much 
 rational cause for regret, that it has altogether made me 
 very unhappy. I have been used ill by some of my 
 servants whom I treated best, whom I most confided in 
 — in a word, whom I most loved. Now this is a prool 
 of such melancholy insensibility on their part, not to say 
 depravity, and so damps every benevolent feehng of my 
 own mind, as far as relates to their class of society, 
 that it is difficult to say how injurious to me, and to 
 them, the consequences of it may be. Say nothing 
 about this to anybody. I hope I have made them 
 sensible of their errors, and that in future they will be 
 better, that I may be prevented from being worse. Thus, 
 my dear Col., we must look to ourselves, and I am afraid 
 to ourselves alone, for happiness. Woe be to him who 
 cannot in these days turn with satisfaction from the 
 contemplation of the species to the contemplation of 
 himself — who cannot keep the little court of his own 
 breast swept clean of the degrading passions and low 
 vices, which alone brave the sun, and triumph in the 
 face of day. Let us hear from you circumstantially, 
 let us hear that you are happy. . . . We long to see 
 you. But still I say, don't come till you have done 
 your business. My mother is better, ten times better 
 than she has been these two years. Heaven bless you, 
 
 'Thos. Poole.' 
 
1799 HOW THE NEWS WAS RECEIVED 295 
 
 Coleridge did not weep, he tells Poole, when 
 he received the news of his infant's death. ' I 
 walked out into the open fields, oppressed — not by 
 my feelings — but by the riddles which the thought 
 so easily proposes — and solves, never!' And 
 when he returned he sat down to cover the first 
 half of a large sheet of paper with a series of 
 reflective ' fancies ' upon the phenomena of Life, 
 Consciousness, and Personal Identity. If Poole's 
 letter was designed to raise a barrier against 
 violent agitation, by exciting a train of meta- 
 physical speculations, it succeeded. 
 
 ' I am perplexed,' wrote Coleridge, ' I am sad ; and 
 a little thing, a very trifle, would make me weep ; but for 
 the death of my baby I have not wept.' 
 
 Nevertheless, he could write of nothing else that 
 day ; it is not till two days later that he takes 
 up his pen again to finish the sheet, and to answer 
 the concluding portion of his friend's letter — • 
 
 ' April ?>, 1799. — I feel disappointed beyond doubt,' 
 he says, 'at the circumstance of which you have half 
 informed me . . . but still, we can hofe. If you live at 
 Stowey, and my moral and intellectual being grows and 
 purifies, as I would fain believe that it will, there will 
 always be a motive, a strong one, to their coming. 
 
 ' As to your servants and the people of Stowey in 
 general, Poole, my beloved ! you have been often unwisely 
 fretful with me when I have pressed upon you their 
 
296 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xvi 
 
 depravity. Without religious joys and religious terrors, 
 nothing can be expected from the inferior classes in 
 society. Whether or no any class is strong enough to 
 stand firm without them, is to me doubtful. There are 
 favoured individuals but not classes. ..." 
 
 Expressions of almost filial joy at the improved 
 health of Poole's mother come next, and then 
 some account of his own studies ; lastly — 
 
 ' With regard to the house in Stowey,' he says, ' I 
 must not disguise from you that to live in Stowey, and 
 in that house which you mention, is to me an exceedingly 
 unpleasant thought. Rather than go anywhere else I 
 assuredly would do it, and be glad, but the thought is 
 unpleasant to me. I do not like to live iti a town, still 
 less in Stowey, where, excepting yourself and mother, 
 there is no human being attached to us, and few who do 
 not dislike us. Besides, it is a sad tyranny that all who 
 live in towns are subject to, that of inoculating all at 
 once, etc. And then the impossibility of keeping one's 
 children free from vice and profaneness, etc. 
 
 ' If I do not send off this letter now, I must wait 
 another week. What must I do ? How you will look 
 when you see the blank page ! My next shall make up 
 for it. Heaven bless you 
 
 ' and S. T. Coleridge.' 
 
 It is amusing to find an apology for brevity at 
 the close of a letter which entirely covers two 
 sides of an immense sheet of paper, with minute 
 and closely compressed handwriting ; but it was 
 not at all uncommon at this period of their lives 
 
1799 HOME -SICKNESS 297 
 
 for Coleridge to write to Tom Poole upon paper 
 of this description, and to fill the entire sheet, 
 only leaving the vacant space required for the 
 address, in the centre of the last page. The 
 child's death, for which he had not wept, must 
 nevertheless have preyed a good deal upon his 
 mind, if we may judge from the tone of passionate 
 home-sickness which pervades the next letter, dated 
 'May 6, 1799, Monday morning' ; and, indeed, it 
 must have taken the entire morning to write it, 
 for it occupies the whole of just such another 
 sheet of paper as the last. That part of it which 
 refers to the relations between Poole and Cole- 
 ridge, and to the question of returning to live at 
 Stowey, may be transcribed here : — 
 
 ' My dear Poole ! My dear Poole ! I am home-sick. 
 Society is a burthen to me ; and I find relief only in 
 labour. So I read and transcribe from morning to 
 night, and never in my life have I worked so hard as 
 this last month, for indeed I must sail over an ocean of 
 matter with almost spiritual speed, to do what I have to 
 do i» the time in which I ivill do it, or else leave it 
 undone ! O my God ! how I long to be at home ! My 
 whole being so yearns after you, that when I think of the 
 moment of our meeting, I catch the fashion of German 
 joy, rush into your arms, and embrace you. Methinks 
 my hand would swell, if the whole force of my feeling 
 were crowded there. Now the Spring comes, the vital 
 sap of my affections rises as in a tree. And what a 
 
298 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xv! 
 
 gloomy Spring ! But a few days ago, all the new buds 
 were covered with snow ; and everything yet looks sc 
 brown and wintry, that yesterday the roses (which the 
 ladies carried on the Ramparts, their Promenade), beauti- 
 ful as they were, so little harmonized with the genera] 
 face of nature they looked to me like silk and paper roses. 
 But these leafless Spring woods ! O how I long to heai 
 your whistle to the Rippers ! '^ There are a multitude ol 
 nightingales here (poor things ! they sang in the snow). 
 I thought of my own verses on the nightingale, only 
 because I thought of Hartley, my only child. Dea: 
 lamb ! I hope he viron't be dead before I get home. 
 There are moments in which I have such a power of life 
 within me, such a cojiceit of it, I mean, that I lay the 
 blame of my child's death to my absence. Not intellect- 
 ually ; but I have a strange sort of sensation, as if while 
 I was present none could die whom I intensely loved. 
 And doubtless it was no absurd idea of yours that there 
 may be unions and connections out of the visible world. 
 ' Wordsworth and his sister passed through here, as 
 I have informed you. I walked on with them five English 
 miles, and spent a day with them. They were melan- 
 choly and hypp'd. W. was affected to tears at the 
 thought of not living near me — wished me, of course, to 
 live in the north of England near them and Sir Frederic 
 Vane's great library. I told him that, independent oi 
 the expense of removing, and the impropriety of takins 
 Mrs. Coleridge to a place where she would have nc 
 acquaintance, two insurmountable objections, the librarj 
 was no inducement, for I wanted old books chiefly, sucli 
 as could be procured anywhere better than in a gentle- 
 1 Blackbirds. 
 
99 POOLE FELT TO BE AN ANCHOR 299 
 
 an's new fashionable collection. Finally, I told him 
 ainly that you had been the man in whom first and 
 
 whom alone I had felt an anchor! With all my 
 her connections I felt a dim sense of insecurity and 
 icertainty, terribly uncomfortable. W. was affected to 
 ars, very much affected. But he deemed the vicinity 
 
 a library absolutely necessary to his health, nay, to 
 s existence. It is painful to me, too, to think of not 
 dng near him : for he is a good and kind man, and the 
 ily one whom in all things I feel my superior ; and 
 >u will believe me when I say, that I have few feelings 
 ore pleasurable than to find myself, in intellectual 
 culties, an inferior. 
 
 But my resolve is fixed, not to leave you till you leave 
 e. I still think Wordsworth will be disappointed in his 
 pectations of relief from reading, without society ; and 
 think it highly probable that where I live there he 
 11 live, unless he should find in the North any person, 
 
 persons, who can feel with and understand .him, can 
 ciprocate and react on him. My many weaknesses are 
 
 some advantage to me ; they unite me more with the 
 eat mass of my fellow-beings — but dear Wordsworth 
 >pears to me to have hurtfully segregated and isolated 
 5 being. Doubtless, his delights are more deep and 
 blime, but he has likewise more hours that prey on 
 s flesh and blood. With regard to Hancock's house, if 
 :an get no place within a mile or two of Stowey, I must 
 ■f to get that ; but I confess I like it not. ..." 
 
 Written across the paper, in the folded oblong 
 ece below the cover, comes a tiny note to Mrs. 
 oleridge : — 
 
300 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xvi 
 
 'My dear Sara — On Saturday next I go to the 
 famous Harz Mountains, about twenty English miles 
 from Gottingen, to see the mines and other curiosities. 
 On my return I will write you all that is writable. God 
 bless you, my dear, dear, dear Love ! and your affectionate 
 and ever faithful husband, S. T. Coleridge. 
 
 ' With regard to money, my Love ! Poole can write to 
 Mr. Wedgwood, if it is not convenient for him to let you 
 have it' 
 
 Such were the almost more than brotherly 
 terms that existed between the two young men ; 
 but Sara, perhaps, would have preferred greater 
 ceremony, and the wholesome, commonplace rou- 
 tine of regular remittances. It seems likely that 
 the above note may have been an answer to some 
 kind of representation on her part that she had 
 been again obliged to apply to Mr. Poole, for a 
 letter of hers exists, dated April 2, 1799, in which, 
 after a variety of domestic details, and some com- 
 ments on the letters from Germany, mingled with 
 longings for her husband's return, she goes on : — 
 
 'My principal reason for troubling you now is, to 
 beg you will send me ten guineas, for I expected 
 Coleridge would have thought of it, but he has not, prob- 
 ably thinking I can do without till he arrives. ... I 
 shall want the cash as soon as you can provide me with 
 it conveniently, for I have many little bills to pay, and 
 must purchase a few things to bring with me to Stowey.' 
 
 Then follows a petulant postscript : — 
 
1799 ' THE LYRICATL BALLADS ' 301 
 
 ' The Lyrical Ballads are not liked at all by any.' 
 And then, yet another afterthought : — 
 
 ' It is very unpleasant to me to be often asked if 
 Coleridge has changed his political sentiments, for I 
 know not properly how to reply. Pray furnish me.' 
 
 In later years this perplexed, and sometimes 
 much provoked young wife, with her warm affec- 
 tions and her untrained mind, had grown to her 
 surroundings, and we smile to find her writing to 
 Mr. Poole in 1 8 1 5 of Wordsworth's Excursion 
 and the White Doe, that ' there are still two very 
 opposite opinions concerning his poetry, you know 
 ours, and Sir George and Lady Beaumont think 
 him the first of living poets.' 
 
 In 1799 there was no Sir George or Lady 
 Beaumont to be quoted against the unappreciative 
 multitude ; the general voice was still her standard, 
 and she had not that happy, blind belief in her 
 husband that might have led her to take his side 
 against the clamour of the crowd, with dogged, 
 uncritical conviction of the excellence of anything 
 that 'he' had done. Popularity would have in- 
 stantly opened her eyes to their merits, but if they 
 were not popular, how, she seems to ask, could the 
 Lyrical Ballads be anything else but a failure ? 
 
 And yet the collection included the Ancient 
 Mariner, Coleridge's one absolutely perfect achieve- 
 
302 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xvi 
 
 ment Be sure he knew its excellence himself, 
 and was aware that he had done what he could 
 never surpass, and had produced something that his 
 countrymen should not willingly let die — and mea- 
 sure, if you can, his sense of disappointment, almost 
 of despair, when this, like everything else, met with 
 no recognition, and was actually received with a 
 howl of derision. 
 
 ' The Lyrical Ballads^ writes Sara, in another of her 
 postscripts, ' are laughed at and disliked by all with very 
 few exceptions. . . . ' 
 
 Even Southey and C. Lloyd were not among 
 the ' few exceptions.' 
 
 ' If you wrote that review . . . ,' says Charles Lamb to 
 Southey in November 1798, ' I am sorry you are so spar- 
 ing of praise to the Anciertt Maritiere. . . . You have 
 selected a passage fertile in unmeaning miracles, but have 
 passed by fifty passages as miraculous as the miracles they 
 celebrate. I never so deeply felt the pathedc as in that 
 part — 
 
 ' "A spring of love gushed from my heart, 
 And I blessed them unaware.'' 
 
 It Stung me into high pleasure through sufferings. 
 Lloyd does not like it. His head is too metaphysical, 
 and your taste too correct : at least I must allege some- 
 thing against you both to excuse my own dotage. 
 ' " So lonely 'twas that God himself 
 Scarce seemed there to be ! " etc. etc. 
 
 But you allow some elaborate beauties. You should 
 have extracted 'em. ..." 
 
1799 BACK IN STOWEY 303 
 
 Let US hope that the few who felt with Charles 
 Lamb may have consoled Coleridge for the many 
 who stood cold and unresponsive to his highest 
 effort. 
 
 ' I pine, languish, and waste away to be at 
 home,' he wrote to Thomas Poole in May 1799, 
 ' for though in England only I have those that 
 hate me, yet there only I have those whom I 
 love ; ' and some time in the summer of that 
 year saw him at Stowey again, but only for a 
 short time. Early in September he was with the 
 Wordsworths in the North, and one or two notes 
 written from ' Southey's lodgings in Exeter ' later 
 in the same month, tell us that he had then been, 
 with Mrs. Coleridge and little Hartley, visiting his 
 kindred, and taking a few days' tour in Devon- 
 shire, a county which he vehemently declared to 
 be very inferior to Somersetshire in everything 
 except perhaps ' clouted cream, bless the in- 
 ventor thereof,' &nd ' the vievsfs of Totness and 
 Dartmouth.' 
 
 ' I shall be back in Stowey in three weeks,' he 
 writes, and there, as of old, the spirit of drollery 
 reawakens, and we find him sending a bundle of 
 quill pens over to Ward to be mended, and 
 acknowledging their return in what I should think 
 must be the only monosyllabic note that he ever 
 wrote in his life : — 
 
304 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xvi 
 
 • October 7, 1799- 
 ' Thank you ! 
 
 'S. T. Coleridge.' 
 
 This is speedily followed by a quaintly folded 
 epistle, addressed as follows : — 
 
 ' To Mr. Ward. 
 ' This pentagonal letter comes /^wcil'd as well as 
 /enn'd.' 
 
 And on the reverse : — 
 
 ' Your messenger neither came nor returned /^^zniless.' 
 
 ' Most exquisite Pennefactor — I will speak dirt 
 and daggers of the wretch who shall deny thee to be the 
 most heaven-inspired, munificent Penmaker that these 
 latter times, these superficial, weak, and evirtuate ages 
 have produced to redeem themselves from ignominy ! 
 And may he, great Calamist, who shall vili/^«d or 
 derogate from thy pe?imaking merits, do /^«ance, and 
 suffer /^«itential /(?«alty, penn'd up in some J>eminous 
 J>emnsu]a. of feftaX and /(?«etrant fire, perfixwt and 
 /f^dulous, /««ding a huge slice of Eternity. 
 
 ' Were I to write till /'wztecost, filling whole PefiXz.- 
 teuchs, my expressions would still remain a mere 
 /^;zumbra of my debt of gratitude. Thine, 
 
 ' S. T. Coleridge.' 
 
 But unluckily Ward never handled those pens 
 at all ! Coleridge's message arrived in his absence, 
 and they were mended by Govatt, the clerk, as a 
 matter of course ; though, later in the day, and 
 
1799 PEN-MENDING 30S 
 
 perhaps not knowing what Govatt had done, 
 Ward on his return mended and despatched a 
 second batch of pens himself, but only to meet 
 with the following uncomplimentary reception : — 
 
 ' Ward ! I recant, I recant ! solemnly recant and 
 disannul all praise, puff, and panegyric on your damned 
 pens. I have this moment read the note wrapped round 
 your last present, and last night therefore wrote my Elogy 
 on the assured belief that the first batch were yours, and 
 before I had tried the second. The second ! I'm sick 
 on't. Such execrable Blurrers of innocent white paper. 
 Villains with uneven legs. Hexameter and Pentameter 
 Pens. Elogy. No, no, no. Elegies written with 
 Elegiac pens — Elegies on my poor Thoughts doing pen- 
 ance in white sheets, filthily illegible. 
 
 ' My rage prevents me from writing sense. But O 
 Govatt, dear Govatt ! kicl. that spectacle-mongering son 
 of a Pen-hatchet out of creation, and remain alone, from 
 the date hereof, invested with the rank and office of 
 Penmaker to my immortal Bardship, with all the dignities 
 and emoluments thereunto annexed. 
 
 ' Given from Apollo's temple in the 
 odoriferous Lime Grove Street, in 
 what Olympiad our Inspiration 
 knows not, but of the usurping 
 Christian iEra 1799. Oct. 8. 
 
 ' S. T. Coleridge.' 
 
 Govatt is expected to express>is gratitude by 
 an immediate present of half a dozen pens, 
 VOL. I ^ 
 
3o6 THOMAS POOLE AND HIS FRIENDS chap, xvi 
 
 amended — if indeed the reprobates be not in- 
 corrigible. 
 
 Probably the ' Devil's Walk ' was written with 
 one of these very pens ; for this, too, belongs to the 
 same month of October. The poem in Southey's 
 version concludes with the lines — 
 
 ' Therewith in second-sight he saw 
 The place, and the manner, and time, 
 In which this mortal story- 
 Would be put in immortal rhyme. 
 
 ' That it would happen when two poets 
 Should on a time be met, 
 In the town of Nether Stowey, 
 In the shire of Somerset. 
 
 ' There, while the one was shaving. 
 Would he the song begin. 
 And the other when he heard it at breakfast. 
 In ready accord join in. 
 
 ' So each would help the other, 
 Two heads being better than one, 
 And the phrase and conceit 
 Would in unison meet. 
 And so with glee the verse flow free. 
 In ding-dong chime of sing-song rhyme. 
 Till the whole were merrily done. 
 
 ' And because it is set to the razor. 
 Not to the lute or harp, 
 Therefore it was that the fancy 
 Should be bright and the wit be sharp. . . .' 
 
1799 NEW YEAR'S EVE, 1799 307 
 
 In its original shape the ' Devil's Walk ' went 
 up to the Morning Post, and created a great 
 sensation. It is grotesque, and rather in the 
 manner of Southey than in Coleridge's own 
 manner ; but there is a searching quality in the 
 irony of which Southey possessed not the secret, 
 and a fantastic extravagance in the wit, which has 
 a good deal more of Coleridge's fling than of 
 Southey's fancy in it. By November Coleridge 
 had accepted an engagement to write regularly 
 for the Morning Post, and was settled with his 
 wife and child in what he describes in a letter to 
 Tom Poole— whom he invites to come and stay 
 with him — as ' quiet and healthful ' lodgings 
 in London, where his first occupation was to 
 prepare and to publish his fine translation of 
 Wallenstein, that work which cost him so much 
 labour, and which brought him in so little profit 
 and so little fame. The newspaper work paid ; 
 but the unbought copies of Wallenstein were 
 actually sold for waste-paper ! It was from these 
 lodgings that he penned that loving greeting to 
 Tom Poole, on New Year's Eve, I799. which 
 stands on the first page of these Memoirs. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 ':^',U%:if^p, 
 
 i