Biographia Literaria
'ss than of bodily, convalescence. Who
er? Who has not watched it with a new
omparison of sensual pleasure
r
11
-ITERATURE]
. and sincere good wishes, I would adul literati, grounded on my own expeg, middle, and end converge to one
With the exception of one extraordi, least of all an individual of genius,
: regular employment, which does not
can b~ carried on so far mechanically
;, and intellectual exertion are requiure, unannoyed by any alien anxiety,
and recreation, will suffice to realize
' genial, than weeks of compulsion.
an arbitrary and accidental end of
.ny given exertion will often prove a
nng them will in all works of genius
by excess reverse their very nature,
nd. For it is one contradistinction of
alway comprized in the means; and
1 analogy between genius and virtue.
yet as genius cannot exist, certainly
;e every scholar, who feels the genial
vision between the two, as that he
:ompetence in some known trade or
uil and unbiassed choice; while the
'Y the sincere desire to perform his
iend (I would say) suppose yourself
the manufactory or counting-house,
last patient, you return at evening,
1ome
631
ings as well as thoughts to events and characters past or to come; not a chain of iron
which binds you down to think of the future and the remote by recalling the claims
and feelings of the peremptory present. But why should I say retire! The habits of
active life and daily intercourse with the stir of the world will tend to give you such
self-command, that the presence of your family will be no interruption. Nay, the
social silence, or undisturbing voices of a wife or sister will be like a restorative atmosphere, or soft music which moulds a dream without becoming its object. If facts
are required to prove the possibility of combining weighty performances in literature
with full and independent employment, the works of Cicero and Xenophon among
the ancients; of Sir Thomas Moore, Bacon, Baxter, or to refer at once to later and
contemporary instances, DARWIN and RosCOE, 2 are at once decisive of the question.
* * * It would be a sort of irreligion, and scarcely less than a libel on human nature to believe, that there is any established and reputable profession or employment,
in which a man may not continue to act with honesty and honor; and doubtless there
is likewise none, which may not at times present temptations to the contrary. But
woefully will that man find himself mistaken, who imagines that the profession of literature, or (to speak more plainly) the trade of authorship, besets its members with
fewer or with less insidious temptations, than the church, the law, or the different
branches of commerce. But I have treated sufficiently on this unpleasant subject in
an early chapter of this volume. I will conclude the present therefore with a short extract from HERDER,3 whose name I might have added to the illustrious list of those,
who have combined the successful pursuit of the muses, not only with the faithful
discharge, but with the highest honors and honorable emoluments, of an e tablished
profession. [Coleridge prints the German passage and translates] "With the greatest
possible solicitude avoid authorship. Too early or immoderately employed, it makes
the head waste and the heart empty; even were there no other worse consequences. A
person, who reads only to print, in all probability reads amiss; and he, who sends
away through the pen and the press every thought, the moment it occurs to him, will
in a short time have sent all away, and will become a mere journeyman of the printing-office, a compositor."
To which I may add. from myself, that what medical physiologists affirm of certain secretions, applies equally to our thoughts; they too must be taken up again into
the circulation, and be again and again re-secreted in order to ensure a healthful
vigor, both to the mind and to its intellectual offspring.
from
Chapter 13
(IMAGINATION AND FANCY]
On the imagination, or esemplastic power
with the very countenances of your
..velcome made doubly welcome, by
you have satisfied the demands of
retire into your study, in the books
:nds with whom you can converse.
lXieties than the great minds, that
:iting desk with its blank paper and
owers, capable of linking your feelidge's To A Gentleman (92-93).
Thus far had the work been transcribed for the press, when I received the following
letter from a friend, 1 whose practical judgement I have had ample reason to estimate
and revere, and whose taste and sensibility preclude all the excuses which my selflove might possibly have prompted me to set up in plea against the decision of advisers of equal good sense, but with less tact and feeling.
2. Cicero and Xenophon were illustrious statesmen. More
(147&--1535) and Bacon (1561-1626) both served as Lord
Chancellor in their public careers. Erasmus Darwin, a physician and a poet, and William Roscoe, a lawyer and abolitionist, were contemporaries and friends of Coleridge.
3. J. G. Herder (1744-1803), German poet, critic, and
philosopher of history, was superintenJent of religious
and educational affairs at Weimar. Coleridge quotes from
his Letters on the Study of Theology.
1. Coleridge wrote the letter himself.
632
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
DearC.
You ask my opinion concerning your Chapter on the Imagination, both as to the impressions it made on myself, and as to those which I think it will make on the PUBLIC, i.e.
that part of the public, who from the title of the work and from its forming a sort of introduction to a volume of poems, are likely to constitute the great majority of your readers.
As to myself, and stating in the first place the effect on my understanding, your opinions and method of argument were not only so new to me, but so directly the reverse of all I
had ever been accustomed to consider as truth, that even if I had comprehended your
premises sufficiently to have admitted them, and had seen the necessity of your conclusions,
I should still have been in that state of mind, which in your note, p. 75, 76, you have so ingeniously evolved, as the antithesis to that in which a man is, when he makes a bull.2 In your
own words, I should have felt as if I had been standing on my head.
The effect on my feelings , on the other hand, I cannot better represent, than by supposing myself to have known only our light airy modem chapels of ease, and then for the first
time to have been placed, and left alone, in one of our largest Gothic cathedrals in a gusty
moonlight night of autumn. "Now in glimmer, and now in gloom;"3 often in palpable darkness not without a chilly sensation of terror; then suddenly emerging into broad yet visionary
lights with coloured shadows, of fantastic shapes yet all decked with holy insignia and mystic
symbols; and ever and anon coming out full upon pictures and stone-work images of great
men, with whose names I was familiar, but which looked upon me with countenances and
an expression, the most dissimilar to all I had been in the habit of connecting with those
names . Those whom I had been taught to venerate as almost super-human in magnitude of
intellect, I found perched in little fret-work niches, as grotesque dwarfs; while the
grotesques, in my hitherto belief, stood guarding the high altar with all the characters of
Apotheosis.4 In short, what I had supposed substances were thinned away into shadows,
while every where shadows were deepened into substances:
If substance may be call'd what shadow seem'd,
For each seem'd either!
Milton 5
Yet after all, I could not but repeat the lines which you had quoted from a MS. poem of
your own in the FR!END6 and applied to a work of Mr. Wordsworth's though with a few of
the words altered:
_ _ An orphic tale indeed,
A tale obscure of high and passionate thoughts
To a strange music chaunted!7
Be assured, however, that I look forward anxiously to your great book on the
which you have promised and announced: and that I will do
my best to understand it. Only I will not promise to descend into the dark cave of
Trophonius 9 with you, there to rub my own eyes, in order to make the sparks and figured
flashes, which I am required to see.
CONSTRUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY, 8
2. Contradicts himself, inviting ridicule.
3. Chriscabel, line 163.
4. Divinity.
5. A famous description of Death; Paradise Lost,
2.669-70. Cf. Burke, page 35 and Coleridge, 644.
6. The journal produced by Coleridge in 1809- 18 10.
7. To a Gentleman, 45-47 {variant).
8. Perhaps the Logic or Opus Maximum, or Coleridge's
Kantian model of philosophy.
9. Legendary architect of the temple of Apollo at Delphi.
After his death an oracle was consecrated to him; visitors
were dragged into a cave filled with strange sounds and
glaring lights, where they received the oracle's messages.
So much for myself. But as j
urging you to withdraw the Chl
announced treatises on the Logo
because imperfectly as I understan
much, and yet not enough. You ha
compression, that what remains, k
ments of the winding steps of an ou
one that I am sure will be more fon
reason to complain of you. This C
little as an hundred pages, will of n.
reader who, like myself, is neither t
subject so abstrusely treated, will, t
a sort of imposition on him. For wl
"J)1)p £iternrp £ifr anD E9pinions." pub,
poems, have anticipated, or even c
the same relation in abstruseness tG
ready you have not too much of m
part of the disquisition is historical, 1
to whose unprepared minds your sp
intelligible. Be assured, if you do t
minded of Bishop Berkley's Siris,4
with Tar ends with the Trinity, th
space. I say in the present work. !
years, and study so intense and va
have described and announced both
it, who feel no interest in the subjE
blame.
I could add to these argument
from the probable effects on the sal<
with you compared with the preced
from your own personal interests m
that in money concerns you have
cracy, and like these amiable creatu
in order to make you enter it. All
are merits, you have deserved it.
In consequence of this very judi
my mind, I shall content mysel
Chapter, which I have reserved
which the reader will find at the
l. The Word of God, incarnated in Je
Coleridge announced a study of the Goopel
part of a work that never appeared, the Logos
2. An "ideal realist," Coleridge rejected the P
tinction between the essence and appearan
for an idea of the world and the mind infu
spirit, a position derived from Placo's inherit
Biographia Literaria
~'::futer on the
Imagination, both as to the imch I thmk zt wzll make on the PUBLIC .
he wok df
·
' z.e.
.
rh an rom zts forming a sort of introducitute t e great majority of your readers.
ce the effect on my understanding your opin·o new to me' but so directly the re~erse of all I
ruth, that even if I had comprehended your
mhd. had seen the necessity of your conclusions
u ich m your note P 75 76
h
. '
h· h
' · ' , you ave so m1 zc a man is, when he makes a bul/.2 In your
standing on my head.
nd, I cannot better represent, than by suppos7lodern chapels of ease' and then for the first
rie of our largest Gothic cathedrals in a gust
and now m gloom; "J often in palpable dark~
~n suddenly emerging into broad yet visionar
·s yet all decked with holy insignia and mysti~
P?n pictures and stone-work images of great
11ch lo~ked upon me with countenances and
been m the habit of connecting with those
~ate. as almost super-human in magnitude of
. niches'. as grotesque dwarfs; while the
~g the high altar with all the characters of
stances were thinned away into shadows
ubstances:
'
>eem'd,
Miltons
which you had quoted from a MS. poem of
if Mr. Wordsworth's though with a few of
•ughts
,
. l
. a~xious y to your great book on the
im.zsed and announced: and that I will do
mzse to descend into the dark cave of
m order to make the sparks and figured
erhaps the Logic or Opus M .
·ian
model of ph'I1 osoph y.
aximum, or Coleridge's
·
~~~dJry ~chitect of the temple of Apollo at Delphi.
d s eat. an oracle
w~s consecrated
to him; visitors
7gged mto a cave filled with strange sounds and
ig tghts, where they received the oracl '
e s messages.
633
So much for myself. But as for the PUBLIC, I do not hesitate a moment in advising and
urging you to withdraw the Chapter from the present work, and to reserve it for your
announced treatises on the Logos or communicative intellect in Man and Deity.I First,
because imperfectly as I understand the present Chapter, I see clearly that you have done too
much, and yet not enough. You have been obliged to omit so many links , from the necessity of
compression, that what remains, looks (if I may recur to my former illustration) like the fragments of the winding steps of an old ruined tower. Secondly, a still stronger argument (at least
one that I am sure will be more forcible with you) is, that your readers will have both right and
reason to complain of you. This Chapter, which cannot, when it is printed, amount to so
little as an hundred pages, will of necessity greatly increase the expense of the work; and every
reader who, like myself, is neither prepared or perhaps calculated for the study of so abstruse a
subject so abstrusely treated, will, as I have before hinted, be almost entitled to accuse you of
a sort of imposition on him . For who, he might truly observe, could from your title-page, viz.
"!JlJp £ittrarp £ift ano ~pinions," published too as introductory to a volume of miscellaneous
poems, have anticipated, or even conjectured, a long treatise on ideal Realism, which holds
the same relation in abstruseness to Plotinus , as Plotinus does to Plato. 2 It will be well, if already you have not too much of metaphysical disquisition in your work, though as the larger
part of the disquisition is historical, it will doubtless be both interesting and instructive to many
to whose unprepared minds your speculations on the esemplasticJ power would be utterly unintelligible. Be assured, if you do publish this Chapter in the present work, you will be reminded of Bishop Berkley's Siris,4 announced as an Essay on Tar-water, which beginning
with Tar ends with the Trinity , the omne scibile [everything knowable] forming the interspace. I say in the present work. In that greater work to which you have devoted so many
years, and study so intense and various, it will be in its proper place. Your prospectus will
have described and announced both its contents and their nature; and if any persons purchase
it, who feel no interest in the subjects of which it treats , they will have themselves only to
blame.
I could add to these arguments one derived from pecuniary5 motives, and particularly
from the probable effects on the sale of your present publication; but they would weigh little
with you compared with the preceding. Besides, I have long observed, that arguments drawn
from your own personal interests more often act on you as narcotics than as stimulants, and
that in money concerns you have some small portion of pig nature in your moral idiosyncracy, and like these amiable creatures, must occasionally be pulled backward from the boat
in order to make you enter it. All success attend you, for if hard thinking and hard reading
are merits, you have deserved it.
Your affectionate, & c.
In consequence of this very judicious letter, which produced complete conviction on
my mind, I shall content myself for the present with stating the main result of the
Chapter, which I have reserved for that future publication, a detailed prospectus of
which the reader will find at the close of the second volume.
I. The Word of God, incarnated in Jesus C hrist.
Coleridge announced a study of the Gospel of John as
part of a work that never appeared, the Logosophia.
2. An "ideal realist," Coleridge rejected the Platonic dis·
tinction between the essence and appearance of things
for an idea of the world and the mind infused by one
spirit, a position derived from Plato's inheritor Plotinus.
3. An invented word, meaning unifying or synthesizing.
4. George Berkeley (1685-1753), Irish bishop and
philosopher. Siris ( 1744) begins with a chemica l descrip·
tion of the medicinal adva ntages of tar and proceeds to
reflections on theology. Coleridge admired philosophy
tied to the empirical truths of the natural sciences.
5. Financial.
634
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The IMAGINATION then I consider either as primary, or secondary. The primary
IMAGINATION I hold to be the living Power and prime Agent of all human Perception, and as a repetition in the finite mind of the eternal act of creation in the infinite I AM. The secondary I consider as an echo of the former, co-existing with the
conscious will, yet still as identical with the primary in the kind of its agency, and differing only in degree, and in the mode of its operation. It dissolves, diffuses, dissipates,
in order to re-create; or where this process is rendered impossible, yet still at all
events it struggles to idealize and to unify. It is essentially vital, even as all objects (as
objects) are essentially fixed and dead.
FANCY, on the contrary, has no other counters to play with, but fixities and definites. The Fancy is indeed no other than a mode of Memory emancipated from the
order of time and space; and blended with, and modified by that empirical phenomenon of the will, which we express by the word CHOICE. But equally with the ordinary
memory it must receive all its materials ready made from the law of association.
Whatever more than this, I shall think it fit to declare concerning the powers
and privileges of the imagination in the present work, will be found in the critical essay on the uses of the Supernatural in poetry and the principles that regulate its introduction: which the reader will find prefixed to the poem of ~(Jr Ji'inrimt !Jl)arinrr.6
from
Chapter 14
[OCCASION OF THE LYRICAL BALLADS-PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITIONTHE ENSUING CONTROVERSY]
During the first year that Mr. Wordsworth and I were neighbours, our conversations
turned frequently on the two cardinal points of poetry, the power of exciting the
sympathy of the reader by a faithful adherence to the truth of nature, and the power
of giving the interest of novelty by the modifying colours of imagination. The sudden
charm, which accidents of light and shade, which moon-light or sun-set diffused over
a known and familiar landscape, appeared to represent the practicability of combining both. These are the poetry of nature. The thought suggested itself (to which of us
I do not recollect) that a series of poems might be composed of two sorts. In the one,
the incidents and agents were to be, in part at least, supernatural; and the excellence
aimed at was to consist in the interesting of the affections by the dramatic truth of
such emotions, as would naturally accompany such situations, supposing them real.
And real in this sense they have been to every human being who, from whatever
source of delusion, has at any time believed himself under supernatural agency. For
the second class, subjects were to be chosen from ordinary life; the characters and incidents were to be such, as will be found in every village and its vicinity, where there
is a meditative and feeling mind to seek after them, or to notice them, when they
present themselves.
In this idea originated the plan of the Lyrical Ballads; in which it was agreed, that
my endeavours should be directed to persons and characters supernatural, or at least
romantic; yet so as to transfer from our inward nature a human interest and a semblance of truth sufficient to procure for these shadows of imagination that willing suspension of disbelief for the moment, which constitutes poetic faith. Mr. Wordsworth,
on the other hand, was to propose to himself as his object, to give the charm of novelty to things of every day, and to excite a feeling analogous to the supernatural, by
6. The essay did not appear.
awakening the mind's attention i
loveliness and the wonders of tht
which in consequence of the filn
yet see not, ears that hear not, an
With this view I wrote the"
poems, the "Dark Ladie," and th1
realized my ideal, than I had done
had proved so much more succes
that my compositions, instead of
of heterogeneous matter. Mr. Wc
own character, in the impassione
tic of his genius. In this form the
by him, as an experiment, 2 whetl
usual ornaments and extra-colloq
aged in the language of ordinary l
the peculiar business of poetry to
considerable length; in which n•
trary import, he was understood t
all kinds, and to reject as vicious
were not included in what he ( ut
sion) called the language of real l
was impossible to deny the prese
tion might be deemed, arose th
conjunction of perceived power
in some instances, I grieve to sa)
versy has been conducted by the
Had Mr. Wordsworth's poe
were for a long time described aE
compositions of other poets men
had they indeed contained nothi
tended imitations of them; they
slough of oblivion, and have dra~
increased the number of Mr. W o
lower classes of the reading publi
and meditative minds; and their
position) was distinguished by itE
These facts, and the intellectual
sciously felt, where it was outwar
timents of aversion to his opinio
eddy of criticism, which would
with which it whirled them rour
sense attributed to them and whi
concurred; but on the contrary
contradictory (in appearance at ·
the author's own practice in t
I. Echoing Jeremiah 5.21 and Isaiah 6.10.
2. "Experiments" is Wo rdsworth's term in the