A Night or two after a worse Rogue there came,
The head of the Gang, one Wordsworth by nameâ
âHo! Whatâs in the wind?â Tis the voice of a Wizzard!
I saw him look at me most terribly blue!
He was hunting for witch-rhymes from great A to Izzard,
And soon as heâd found them made no more ado
But changâd me at once to a little Canoe.
From this strange Enchantment uncharmâd by degrees
I began to take courage & hopâd for some Ease,
When one Coleridge, a Raff of the self-same Banditti
Past byâ& intending no doubt to be witty,
Because Iâd thâill-fortune his taste to displease,
He turnâd up his nose,
And in pitiful Prose
Made me into the half of a small Cheshire Cheese.
(âA Soliloquy of the Full Moon, She Being in a Mad Passionâ, PW 2.692â3, 24â40)
Coleridge never published âA Soliloquy of the Full Moonâ, from which the above lines are taken, but it was written about April 1802, the same time he was composing a âVerse Letterâ to Sara âAsraâ Hutchinson, an early version of âDejection. An Odeâ, a poem which he published in the
Morning Post of 4 October 1802 and which would confirm his fame for later readers.
1 Seamus Perry calls the âSoliloquy of the Full Moonâ âa sprightly partner-pieceâ to the more famous poem, âa remarkable, delightful work, also about imagination, poetry, Wordsworth, and the moonâ (145). Taken together, âA Soliloquy of the Full Moonâ and âDejection. An Odeâ represent Coleridgeâs mercurial mind, the compelling, contradictory coexistence of Coleridgeâs depressive and âfuriously clowningâ characteristics.
2 While the âVerse Letterâ to Sara Hutchinson, the first version of âDejection. An Odeâ, is about marital unhappiness and paralysing depression, the âSoliloquy of the Full Moonâ is ostensibly a celebration of shared silliness among a convivial âGangâ of friends. There is a Janus-faced synergy between the two poems. The two speakers, versions of Coleridge himself in some guise, look upwards and downwards respectively. In the âVerse Letterâ and âDejectionâ, the poet-speaker wistfully looks up to the moon and the stars in an attempt to establish some emotional connection with his empirical observation of the sky (âI see them all, so excellently fair, / I see, not feel, how beautiful they are!â
PW 2.699, 37â8), while in the âSoliloquyâ the Moon herself scornfully looks down upon the âPests of the Nationâ (1), those âVentriloquogusty / Poetsâ(12â3) who insist on âTransmogrificationâ (9), turning her into âa little Canoeâ (Wordsworth) or âthe half of a small Cheshire Cheeseâ (Coleridge). But the Full Moon will not be harnessed in poetic metaphors; she insists on knowing, and being, herself: âI am I myself I, the Jolly full Moonâ (52, 66).
While the image of the âGangâ suggests solidarity and camaraderie, Coleridge also draws attention to the hierarchy among its members, with Wordsworth as âhead of the Gangâ and himself as the producer of âpitiful proseâ. The Moonâs defiant dissociation from all metaphoric control, her insistence to be herself and true to herself only, was, in Coleridgeâs mind, not unlike Wordsworthâs assertion of poetic and domestic independence. Sara Hutchinson, the original addressee of the depressed âVerse Letterâ, included the Moonâs âSoliloquyâ as the opening poem in Sarah Hutchinsonâs Poets, a manuscript collection which would include ten other Coleridge poems, eight of which were also published in the Morning Post (Whalley 5, 28). The choice was fitting: this poem was after all about her âpoetsâ, Wordsworth and Coleridge, who, together with Dorothy Wordsworth and Mary Hutchinson, made up their âGangâ. Together with Wordsworth, she was also the object of Coleridgeâs most passionate interest. Neither Wordsworth nor Sara Hutchinson, however, was as obsessed with Coleridge as he was with them. Coleridgeâs reluctant, painful realization of this, and the need to publicize it, is, broadly, the topic of this book. As the Janus-faced coexistence of the depressed âVerse Letterâ and the jocular âSoliloquy of the Full Moonâ already indicated, Coleridgeâs feelings were complex and contradictory, comprising love, admiration, resentment, and envy. His gaze, like the characters in his poems, wanted to soar upwards, but it was often forced downwards. His ideas about poets and poetry were to a surprising degree associated with his frustrated expectations of domestic happiness.
Sara Hutchinson embodied what he wished for and found wanting in his own wife, while Wordsworth was the great bard he himself would never be but from whom he expected the implementation of his poetic vision. In addition, Wordsworth did not follow the path towards the kind of poetic greatness that Coleridge had planned for him. These two strands of thought, the concurrent obsessions with Sara Hutchinson and William Wordsworth, constituted a double helix of poetic inspiration in Coleridgeâs mind, with interconnecting strands of the domestic, the erotic, and the poetic. Coleridgeâs passion for Sara Hutchinson as a creative muse was intertwined with his admiration of, sexual envy of, and disaffection from, Wordsworthâs strong sense of domestic and poetic purpose. Gradually Coleridge had to recognize that Wordsworth, like the Moon in the âSoliloquyâ, would be Wordsworth himself only and not a metaphoric incarnation of Coleridge. The main focus of this study is how Coleridge expressed his emotions and ideas about the Gang in the press, how he broadcast connected passions in a public medium between 1799 and 1802. Like John Worthenâs The Gang: Coleridge, the Hutchinsons & the Wordsworths in 1802 (2001), this study is about a few people in a narrow time frame, but my focus is firmly on Coleridgeâs view of the âwebs of interlocutionâ he engages with and finds himself trapped in. 3 While I take from Worthen the idea of examining this group of connected lives, I also privilege one particular focus or angle: Coleridgeâs compulsion to publish matters of an extraordinarily sensitive personal nature in the unambiguously public space of the newspaper.
As I will indicate later in this chapter in more detail, the âGangâ is less self-contained than might seem at first sight. No matter how exhaustively or conclusively we detail the events of their lives, as Worthen explicitly undertakes to do, every account or narrative of these peopleâs intertwined lives is inevitably biased by the record of transmission and by our interpretations of that record. Worthen associates an exhaustive record with biographical transparency or sincerity: âIf we miss things out on the grounds that they are unimportant, or because we have not space to include them, or because they do not fit the story we are trying to tell, then all we do is conceal our prejudicesâ (1). I believe, however, that âprejudicesâ, no matter how unintentional, are inevitable, and instead, I propose in this study an admission and awareness of a prejudicial slant which, broadly, amounts to a record of Coleridgeâs expressed emotions about his personal and poetical relationships between 1799 and 1802. Similarly, while Worthen associates single subject biographies with âhero-worshippingâ (6), I do not believe that this is necessarily the case. Worthen asserts that we make a mistake by writing âbiographies of individuals as islandsâ because we âlive as part of the mainâ (6). Yet, a perspective of the âmainâ through the eyes of an individual also highlights just to what extent we are islands. While my study avoids vindicating Coleridge against Wordsworth (or vice versa), it also clarifies the extent to which Coleridge felt like an âislandâ amidst the âmainâ.
On 4 October 1802, the wedding day of his best friend William Wordsworth and the seventh anniversary of his own unhappy marriage, Coleridge published âDejection. An Ode, Written April 4, 1802â in a London newspaper, the Morning Post. The poem was signed ÎΣ΀ÎÎŁÎ, and it became, together with Wordsworthâs âIntimations Odeâ and âResolution and Independenceâ, one of âthe most celebrated poems of the centuryâ (Parrish Coleridgeâs Dejection 1). Every biography and critical study of Coleridge and Wordsworth has discussed the crucial significance of âDejection. An Odeâ for our understanding of Coleridgeâs life and poetic career and its vital role in the poetic dynamic between the two friends. 4 Why, you may well ask, another book inspired by âDejectionâ? Briefly: because I wanted to find out more about Coleridgeâs compulsive, public expression of what could be considered private matters. I have never been entirely convinced by readings which define this poem as a âgiftâ to Wordsworth on his marriage to Mary Hutchinson, an epithalamium or âa tribute [to Wordsworth] with no trace of conscious ironyâ (PW 2.696). 5 At the same time, however, I do not subscribe to John Worthenâs categorical verdict: âDejection is a sad and self-mocking tribute rather than a presentâ (264). Worthenâs take on the poem as a âdeeply ironical, self-regarding gift to a man already married, and unable to marry againâ, as âa kind of un-wedding presentâ, reacts too neatly to âgiftâ interpretations and it categorizes the poem too narrowly as confessional self-expression (264â5). The poem signifies, perhaps, all of those things, but it does more than that: it pulls together a number of poetic and domestic developments of a period which started with Coleridgeâs return from Germany in 1799 and which culminated in 1802, an episode which coincided precisely with Coleridgeâs employment by the Morning Post newspaper. Yet, the fact that âDejection. An Odeâ, Coleridgeâs most poignant poetic expression of private despair, was published in a newspaper has never been the subject of a separate critical enquiry. My focus is not so much on Coleridgeâs career as a journalist as on those publications, particularly the poetry and selected prose pieces, which bear upon the tumultuous events leading up to the publication of the poem: his infatuation with Sara Hutchinson (who became Wordsworthâs sister-in-law on the day of the publication of âDejectionâ) and the despair about his own marriage, his poetic friendship with Mary Robinson and his alienation from Wordsworth, his uneasy settlement in the Lakes and his awareness of Wordsworthâs felicitous domestic settlement in a chosen place, surrounded by the women who adored and supported him, his expulsion from the second edition of Lyrical Ballads, and the mixture of envy and admiration he felt for the connection of domestic bliss and poetic productivity in the Wordsworth household.
While my study is biographical, it is also textual and contextual. At the risk of sounding somewhat like a real estate agent (âlocation, location, locationâ), I situate the turmoil of Coleridgeâs private and poetic life very specifically within his newspaper publications during his employment as a writer for Daniel Stuartâs Morning Post from 1799 until 1802. Coleridgeâs intense involvement with the Morning Post during this period is a useful window for unlocking his personal and poetic interests. Already in 1998, Paul Magnuson argued for the importance of reading Romantic poems in their original publications because the âpublic significance of a literary work rests, not in itself, not within its own generic boundaries, but in its locations for the simple reason that without precise location, there is no cultural significanceâ (Reading Public Romanticism 3). Inspired by my teacher Jack Stillinger, I have taken on board that the âknottiest problem in textual theory ⊠is the relationship of the words of a text to the physical document embodying themâ (Coleridge and Textual Instability 133). The ways in which Coleridge wrote and rewrote his poems for publication in the newspaper are revealing, with the differences in other versions highlighting his particular private concerns at the moment of publication. In addition, the newspaper versions of Coleridgeâs poems are sometimes accompanied by, or surrounded by, materials which provide a fascinating insight into the possible significance of the poem. GĂ©rard Genette has identified paratextuality in the context of print culture as âthose liminal devices and conventions, both within the book (peritext) and outside it (epitext), that mediate the book to the readerâ, such as titles, pseudonyms, forewords and afterwords, dedications, epigraphs and epilogues, authorial correspondence. 6 The same applies to Coleridgeâs newspaper contributions, with signatures, prefaces, allusions, accompanying pieces, and editorial correspondence illuminating the significance of the poems.
Some of the poems I will discuss in the following chapters are now little discussed, but they were very popular at the time of their publication, and Daniel Stuartâs concerted efforts to coax newspaper copy out of Coleridge through endless patience, unstinting support, and financial rewards were an indication of how worthwhile Coleridgeâs contributions were. Coleridge himself thought very highly of many of the poems he published between 1799 and 1802 in the
Morning Post.
7 Much newspaper versifying would indeed have conformed to George Crabbeâs condemnation:
Last in these ranks and least, their artâs disgrace,
Neglected stand the Museâs meanest race;
Scribblers who court contempt, whose verse the eye
Disdainful views, and glances swiftly by:
This Poetâs Corner is the place they choose,
A fatal nursery for an infant Muse. (26)
But, clearly, the
Morning Postâs âOriginal Poetryâ section was not a âfatal nurseryâ for the poems which Coleridge published between 1799 and 1802.
8 The lack of attention to the publication of poems in newspapers may have something to do with the disposable, short-lived, transient nature of the newspaper. It is a genre which is fundamentally at odds with, even inimical to, the canonical, monumental, and, therefore, timeless status we now associate with famous poems. The immediacy and urgency associated with newspaper reporting and the vital importance of a continuously changing narrative (ânewsâ) are diametrically opposed to the rhetoric of the Romantic lyric in which a particular moment encapsulates the seemingly timeless disposition of the lyric speaker. Yet, Coleridgeâs poems appealed to the newspaper reader, providing additional comment to, or re...