COTTLE'S ItEMINISCENCES OF COLERIDGE AND

SOUTHEY.

Ma. JOSEPH COTTLE is the bookseller and poet of Bristol, who was well known half a century ego by the attacks of Canning in the Antijacobin, for Revolutionary opinions, at the time when his friends Southey, Cole- ridge, Wordsworth, and some lesser names, were classed in a similar category. A sort of bibliopolie Mectenas, Mr. Cottle was the means of making the world acquainted with the genius of his friends, and the first to publish the Joan If Arc of Southey, the Lyrical Ballads of Words- worth, and a poetical volume of Coleridge, at some loss, we believe, to himself. The intimacy thus begun yet endures with Wordsworth, and continued uninterruptedly with Southey to the last glimmering of reason. A sort of acquaintanceship was kept up with Coleridge to nearly his death ; but the friendship was dropped in 1814, when Mr. Cottle de- clined to lend him money, which lie knew would be spent on opium.

On Coleridge's death, Mr. Cottle, either voluntarily or by request, drew up reminiscences of Coleridge for the use of his official biogra- pher. His friends Foster and Southey both warned him that the opium subject would be shirked, and no true picture of Coleridge's misery and degradation from his self-indulgence exhibited. Mr. Cottle therefore stipulated, that the original letters upon that subject should, in obedience to Coleridge's written desire, appear ; and this being "promptly refused," Mr. Cottle, in 1837, published his very interesting Early Re- collections of Coleridge,—it now appears, under the sanction of Southey, who read the whole, and advised some omissions. That publication we noticed at considerable length, just ten years ago ;* and it firms the basis of the present book. The reminiscences of Coleridge, indeed, seem to us merely reproduced, with some additional letters to his early patrons the Wedgewoods, who allowed him 150/. a year to write some great works. The new matter contains anecdotes and several letters from Foster and other friends; but the most striking feature of the book is tbe Recollections of Southey. These extend from 1794 till Southey ceased to be capable of any mental effort ; but they are fullest during the earlier period of their friendship, and in reference to the lamentable case of Coleridge. As it stood originally, this was one of the saddest ex- hibitions in biography. We have now, in addition to the narrative of Cottle, and the self-deceiving though to some extent hypocritical letters of Coleridge, the commentary of Southey, whom Mr. Cottle consulted on every important step. - In this part, and indeed throughout, Southey appears in a very excellent light ; warm and firm in friendship, grateful for early „kindness, mid above the little weakness of shrinking from the avowal of his difficulties or his obligations. His cordiality, his unceasing and rapid industry, his critical sagacity, and his calm sound sense as applied to affairs of life, come out with great clear- ness, without any of those weaknesses of the author that were visible in his correspondence with Taylor of Norwich. Coleridge, on the other hand, looks worse than before. It now appears that he must have begun the practice of opium-taking at an early period (about 1800) ; that while • Spectator, No. 462; 6th May len. writing to his friends of illness or incapacity arising from bodily indispo- sition, he had really incapacitated himself by indulgence in opium. He quarrelled with his wife, and left her with her children to be supported by Southey ; only assigning them the 671. 10s. a year he received under the will of one of the Wedgewoods, which did not pay for the boy's schooling; and neither writing to them nor opening their letters. We formerly observed upon his insensibility to pecuniary obligations, and devoted some space to an exhibition of his fatal propensity. In addition to opium, he took large quantities of ardent spirits ; and besides utter want of reliance upon him for engagements he might enter into, he dis- played ingratitude to his best friends. Even after his death, Southey could write of him in these terms.

"I know that Coleridge at different times of his life never let pass an oppor- tunity of speaking ill of Inc. Both Wordsworth and myself have often lamented the exposure of duplicity which must result from the publication of his letters, and by what he has delivered by word of mouth to the worship- ers by whom lie was always surrounded. To Wordsworth and to me it matters little. Coleridge received from us such substantial services as few men have ieceived from those whose friendship they had forfeited. This, indeed, was not the case with Wordsworth, as it was with me, for he knew not in what man- ner Coleridge had latterly spoken of him. But I continued all possible offices of kindness to his children, long after I regarded his own conduct with that utter disapprobation which alone it can call forth from all who had any sense of duty and moral obligation."

The early career of Southey, and the character of Coleridge, are topics that attract us, but would lead over too much ground. We must con- tent ourselves with drawing upon Mr. Cattle's rich though rather egotis- tical memorials for some miscellaneous anecdotes.

COLERIDGE ON PITT AND FOX.

"Pitt and Fox completely answered my pre-formed ideas of them. The ele- gance and high finish of Pitt s periods, even in the most sudden replies, is curious, but that is all. He argues but so so, and does not reason at all. Nothing is re- memberable of what he says. Fox possesses all the full and °yellowing eloquenoe of a man of clear head, clear heart, and Impetuous feelings. He is to my mind a. great orator. All the rest that spoke were mere creatures. I could make a better speech myself than any that I heard, except Pitt and Fox. I reported that part of Pitt's which I have enclosed in brackets; not that I report ex-officio, but my curiosity having led me there, I did Stuart [of the Courier newspaper] a service by taking a few notes." COLERIDGE ON matrix.

"Keswick, September 16, 1803. "My dear Wedgewood—I reached home on yesterday noon. William Harlin is a thinking, observant, original man; of great power as a painter of character- pertraits, and far more m the manner of the old painters than any living arthilt But the objects most be before him: he has no imaginative memory. So much for his intellectuals. His manners are to ninety-nine in one hundred singularly repulsive; brow-hanging, shoe-contemplating—strange. Sharp seemed to like him; but Sharp saw him only for half an hour, and that walking. He is, I verily believe, kindly-natured; is very fond of, attentive to, and patient with chil- dren: but he is jealous, gloomy, and of an irritable pride. With all this, there is much good in him. He is disinterested; an enthusiastic lover of the great 111811 who have been before us. He says things that are his own in a way ot his own: and though from habitual shyness, and the outside of bear-skin, at least of mis- anthropy, he is strangely confused and dark in his conversation, and delivers himself of almost all his conceptions with a forceps: yet he says more than any man I ever knew (you yourself only excepted) of that which is his own, in a way of his own; and oftentimes when he has wearied his mind, and the juice is come out and spread over his spirits, he will gallop for half an hour together with real eloquence. He sends well-feathered thought straight forward to the mark with a twang of the bowstring. If you could recommend him as a portrait-painter, I should be glad. To be your companion, he is, in my opinion, utterly Unfit. MS own health is fitful."

SOUTHEY AND TLIE PE.ESENT QUEEN.

He said, some years before when he chanced to be in London' he accepted SR invitation to dine with the Aechbiabop of Canterbury; but subsequently be -re- ceived an invitation for the same day from the Datchess of Kent, to dine at Ken- sington Palace-' and as invitations from royalty supersede all others, he sent an apology to the Archbishop, and dined with more lords and ladies than he could remember. At the conclusion of the repast, before the ladies retired, she who was destined to receive homage, on proper occasions had learnt to pay respect: for the young Princess (our present gracious Queen Victoria) came up to him, and curtseying, very prettily said, " Mr. Southey, I thank you for the pleasure I have received in reading your Life of Lord Nelson."

FIRST ESTIMATION OF WORDSWORTH'S LYRICAL liALLADS.

As a curious literary fact, I might mention that the sale of the first edition of the "Lyrical Ballads" was so slow, and the severity of moat of the reviews BO great, that their progress to oblivion, notwithstanding the merit which I was Quite sure they possessed, seemed ordained to be as rapid as it was certain. Iliad given thirty guineas for the copyright, as detailed in the preceding letters; but the heavy sale induced me at length to part with, at a loss, the largest proportion of the ins-

pression of five hundred, to Mr. Arch, a London bookseller. s •

On my reaching London, having an account to settle with Messrs. Longman and Rees, the booksellers of Paternoster Row I sold them all my copyrights; which were valued as one lot, by a third party. On my next seeing Mr. Longman' he told me, that in estimating the value of the copyrights, Fox's "Achmed" and Wordsworth's "Lyrical Ballads" were "reckoned as nothing." "That being the case," I replied, "as both these authors are my personal friends, I should be-. obliged if you would return me again these two copyrights, that I may have the pleasure of presenting them to the respective writers." Mr. Longman answered, with his accustomed liberality, "You are welcome to them." On my reaching, Bristol, I gave Mr. Fox his receipt for twenty guineas; and on Mr. Coleridge's return from the North, I gave him Mr. Wordsworth's receipt for his thirty guineas; so that whatever advantage has arisen subseqemitly from the sale of this volume of the "Lyrical Ballads, I am happy to say, has pertained exclusively to Mr. W.

SOUTHEY'S BOORS.

"How you would like to see my library, and to recognise among them some volumes as having been the gift of Joseph Cottle, seven or eight and twenty years ago! I have a great many thousand volumes, of all sorts, sizes, languages, and kinds, upon all subjects, and in all aorta of trims, from those which are displayed in reacock Place' to the ragged inhabitants of 'Duck Row.' The room in which I am now writing contains two thousand four hundred volumes, all in good apparel; many of them of singular rarity and value. I have another room full, and a passage full; book-cases in both lauding-places; and from six to seven hun- dred volumes in my bedroom. You have never seen a more cheerful rown than my study."

FIBRILS OF REVIEWING.

Mr. Southey mentioned to me, the last time I saw him, the jeopardy in which he had recently been placed through his "killing off"; arid from which danger he was alone saved by his anonymous garb. lie said he had found itnecessary in reviewing a book, written by a native of the Emerald Isle, to treat it with rather unwonted severity, such as it richly deserved. A few days after the critique had appeared, he happened to call on a literary friend, in one of the inns of court. They were conversing on this work, and the incompetence of the writer, when the author, a gigantic Irishman, entered the room, in a great rage, and vowing ven- geance against the remorseless critic. Standing very near Mr. Southey, he raised his huge fist, and exclaimed," And, if I knew who it was, I'd bate him!" Mr. S. observed a very profound silence; and not liking the vicinity of a volcano, quietly retired, reserving his laugh for a less hazardous occasion.