1. Acquaintance, associate, companion, friend refer to a person with whom one is in contact. An acquaintance is someone recognized by sight or someone known, though not intimately: a casual acquaintance. An associate is a person who is often in one's company, usually because of some work, enterprise, or pursuit in common: a business associate. A companion is a person who shares one's activities, fate, or condition: a traveling companion; companion in despair. A friend is a person with whom one is on intimate terms and for whom one feels a warm affection: a trusted friend. 3. familiarity, awareness.
Based on the Random House Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2017.
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Examples for acquaintance Expand
In the early 2000s, an acquaintance told Sun about the possibility of doing business in Ethiopia.
And then she realizes, through an acquaintance. that there is still something better out there.
acquaintance made another "appointment" for the next month as well, and I again agreed to give the person a ride.
Cain acknowledged knowing White, telling CNN she was an “acquaintance ” he had tried to help.
He insulted a female poet of his acquaintance by remarking “that she and her family were Jews.”
Does he come under the recommendatory 'firman' of any dear friend or acquaintance.
Then, knowing Hokar was safe, he went into the bar to make the acquaintance of his other victim.
But my acquaintance with him is wholly of a public character.
He had had some acquaintance with me, but the rest of the party were strangers.
My questions are these—Have you put an end to that acquaintance.
Date Rape Date rape is a crime that is difficult to define. assess. and prevent Society did not acknowledge date rape as a problem until the early 1980 's. Today. a large number of women and a small number of men experience this type of traumatic event
Date rape usually happens between two people who are dating or at least know each other. It does not have to occur during a date in to be classified as such. People who have been together before can commit or fall victim to date rape
if one of them doesn 't want to be intimate at the time. Even marital rape is considered to be a type of date rape
Because of low report rates. it is hard to establish how big the problem actually is. This makes it difficult to reach out to victims who might need the help of a mental health professional (Russo. page 1 According to available research. one in three women will be raped in their life. Only seven to ten percent of rape victims are men (Nemours Foundation ) Half of all victims who are raped know their attacker
Alcohol and drugs such as gamma hydroxybutrate (GHB ) are often involved in a date rape. also known as acquaintance rape. GHB is a serious drug that can cause a person to black out for hours or even kill them. Common side effects are blurred vision. lack of memory. and a paralyzed feeling. Women especially need to be careful about keeping track of their drinks because GHB can be easily and quickly slipped in when they are not paying attention. Alcohol can reduce common sense and bring out violent and aggressive intentions
Date rape is a highly controversial issue because there is a lack of agreement on the definition. It is often difficult to determine whether or not the sexual activity was wanted by both parties. Some argue that the victims were somehow asking for it ' because of the way the acted or dressed. or their willingness to put themselves in a situation where they were alone with the other person. This type of defense. which places the blame on the victim. is often criticized and is becoming a less favorable excuse for date rape
There is also a lack of research on the. According to conservative FBI statistics. only three to ten percent of all types of rape are reported (University at Buffalo. page 1 ) One of the contributing factors for non-disclosure and disinclination to seek help is self blame by the victims (Easteal 1994 ) Victims sometimes speculate as to whether or not they could have done something to prevent the rape especially if they had chosen to drink alcohol. As for the victims who actually do come forward in an attempt to press charges. little action is being taken. Very few cases of date rape are prosecuted in court (Russo. page 1
Research indicates that date rape can be just as traumatic as being raped by.
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Rape Essay, Research Paper
Thesis: Acquaintance rape, a crime that psychologically and socially impacts its victims,
continues to flourish on American campuses and college administrators and society must
impose stronger preventive measures.
Although rape has taken place since history began, America just began to
acknowledge it?s rape problem in the early 1970?s. Urged by the strong feminist
movement of this time, woman began to come forward with their stories. The very act of
speaking out – on the printed page and at public meetings – was a courageous first step for
many women and men in naming the unnamable and identifying rape as an act of violence
and hatred against all humanity. The crime, the criminal, and the victim of rape all began
to come into focus. Women already understood that they had to be wary of strange men.
They checked over their shoulders as they walked down the street and took self-defense
classes. But as the awareness of rape grew, so too did the understanding of it as a
phenomenon that reaches beyond dark hallways and back alleys. In September of 1982,
Ms. magazine published an article that offered disturbing evidence of a still hidden type of
rape, popularly called ?date rape. that involved men and women who knew each other.
Preliminary research indicated there were more victims of this kind of rape than of what
was believed to be the most common, rape by strangers. An extensive study and survey of
32 college campuses provided some disquieting statistics, including one astonishing fact:
One in four female respondents had had an experience that met the legal definition of rape
or attempted rape. When this statistic was released, the phenomenon was starting to be
called by the broader term ?acquaintance rape. an accurate label for rapes that take place
between people who know each other, whether from dating relationships or otherwise.
Women were and are being raped by a wide range of men they know – dates, friends,
classmates, colleagues, and neighbors. Acquaintance rape continues to be hidden because
few people identify it for what it really is – a crime, just like robbery, forgery, arson,
embezzlement, or even rape by a stranger. It is no less a crime simply because the
perpetrator has a familiar face.
Despite philosophical and political changes brought about by the feminist
movement, dating relationships between women and men are still often marked by passivity
on the woman?s part and aggression on the man?s. Nowhere are these two seen in greater
contrast than among young adults who often, out of their own fears, insecurity and
teachings provided by their parents and peers, adopt the worst sex-role stereotypes. From
an early age boys are taught to ?get as much sex as they can as often as possible. Women
are directed to ?save it? until Mr. Right comes along. This is where the ?battle of the
sexes? comes into play. These stereotypical attitudes foster a continuum of sexual
victimization – from unwanted sexual touching to psychologically coerced sex to rape – that
is tolerated as normal in our society. Dating places individuals with these socialized but
differing expectations into an ambiguous situation in which there is maximum privacy.
That is, dating can easily to lead to rape.
Women 16 to 24 years old, the prime dating age, are at highest risk for rape. Half
of all men arrested for rape are also 24 years old or younger. Because 26 percent of all 18
to 24 year olds in the United States attend college, these institutions have become focal
points for studying and identifying date and acquaintance rape. Several additional factors
converge during the college years that also make campus life optimal sites for observing the
dynamics of acquaintance rape.
Going to college often means leaving home, moving away from parental control
and protection and into a world of seemingly unlimited freedoms. The imperative to party
and date, although strong in high school, intensifies in this environment. Until the 1970?s,
colleges often adopted a ?substitute parent? attitude towards students. Many dorms had
housemothers who lived with and watched over students. Colleges had curfews (often
more strict for females than males), liquor bans, and stringent disciplinary punishments.
Student were punished for violating the ?three feet on the floor? rules during coed visiting
hours or for being caught with alcohol on college property. Although those regulations did
not fully prevent acquaintance rape, they kept down the number of incidents by making
women?s dorms havens of safety. Such regulations were swept out of most schools during
the Vietnam War era. Today, campuses commonly have coed dorms and socializing
unchecked by curfews or controls on alcohol and drugs. Many people are lulled by the
same myths that pervade our society at large: Rape is not committed by people you know,
against ?good? girls in ?safe? places like university campuses (Koss, pg. 17). By ignoring
the realities of social pressures at college on male and female students, and the often
catastrophic effects of those pressures, students, parents, and administrators help
perpetuate the awareness vacuum in which acquaintance rape continues to happen with
regularity? (Warshaw, pg. 22).
There is also a large correlation between acquaintance rape and drug and alcohol
use. Seventy-five percent of the men and 55% of women involved in acquaintance rape
had been intoxicated just before the attack. Although it is possible to drink alcohol without
becoming ?drunk. in many settings, especially those at college – getting intoxicated is the
point of drinking. Use is encouraged by a college world that demands heavy drinking as
proof of having fun. Drinking, combined with marijuana, hashish, LSD, or heroin deepens
the level of intoxication. Alcohol and drugs distort reality, cloud judgment, slow reactions,
and cause men and women to expose themselves to dangers and risks that normally would
not be considered if they were sober. When intoxicated, a women?s perceptions become
blurred. Her ability to resist an attack is lessened as her verbal and physical response
mechanisms become sedated (Walsh, pg. 372). She may rely on other people to take care
of her, bring her home and protect her from harm. A woman in this state tends to ?trust?
people very easily. Women who become drunk or high on their own often become targets
for individual or groups of men scouting for a victim. Men have been known to purposely
feed? a women alcohol or drugs before forcing her to have sex to reduce her defenses.
An intoxicated man becomes more sexually aggressive, more violent, and less interested in
a woman?s feelings than when he is sober. Many men who commit acquaintance rape
excuse their acts because they were under the influence of a controlled substance.
Intoxication is never an excuse for rape. The victim will suffer the same effects.
Miscommunication between the sexes is the main contributor to ?the perceptual
fogs that cloud acquaintance rape incidents. This miscommunication may occur because
men and women interpret behaviors and conversation differently. In general, men give
more sexual reading to behaviors than women. In a 1982 study at Northwestern University
in Illinois, female and male students watched two actors talk to each other. The ?acting?
was performed from a detailed script. The male students rated the female actor as being
more seductive and promiscuous than the women did. Women and men in a 1983
research project read scenarios about college students who went on dates and then
evaluated whether or not the ?dates? wanted sex from each other. Regardless of who
initiated the date, who paid for it, or where the couple went, the male participants were
more likely than the females to believe that the women in the scenarios wanted sex from
Administrators, parents, and law-providers hope that improving the woman?s ability
to communicate what she wants will lead the man to understand how to proceed.
Although the ?deafness? that some males involved in rapes experience may indeed be due
to not being told in a decisive, clear way what the woman wants, many men ignore what a
woman says or reinterprets it to fit their own needs. Men in our society have been raised
to believe that women will always resist sexual advances, in fear of being labeled ?easy?.
Men have also chosen to ignore women, whether they are responding positively to sexual
encounters or pushing, crying or resisting them. Saying ?No? is often meaningless when
spoken by a female.
Most people believe that because acquaintance rape usually involves little ?real?
violence, such as beating or use or weapons, victims are less traumatized than women
raped by strangers. The opposite may be true. Acquaintance rape victims rate themselves
less recovered than do stranger-rape victims for up to four year following their rape
experience (Scott, pg. 65). In any rape, a woman feels invaded and violated, her
comfortable reality shattered because she has not been able to control her own physical
safety. A woman raped by a stranger can often hold on to a sense that the people she
knows provides a zone of protections and support (Lee, pg. 124). Her experience can be
supported by the reactions of the people close to her. For a woman raped by a man she
knows, this ?zone? is often missing. Like a stranger-rape victim, her confidence in the
world has been lessened but unlike a stranger-rape victim, few people will offer her
sympathy due to social myths about acquaintance rape, the tendency to blame the victim,
and her own likelihood to keep silent about the rape (Finkelher, pg. 20). The effects of
rape on a woman are profound, reflecting feelings of diminished self-worth, raised fear,
anxiety and depression. Thirty percent of acquaintance rape victims contemplated suicide
after the indigent, 31% sought psychotherapy, 22% took self-defense courses, 82% stated
that the experience permanently changed them. Eight percent of rape victims showed signs
of post-traumatic stress disorder. Women experiencing this disorder might be unable to
concentrate, perform simple tasks, or hold a simple conversation. She may be jumpy or
edge, suffer shakiness, trembling or hot and cold flashes. Some may have uncharacteristic
personality shifts. Promiscuous women will now be extra careful about how who they
sleep with. Outgoing women may become withdrawn while vain women may dress
themselves with the intention of going unnoticed. Fear overtakes their lives. Women
experiencing acquaintance rape become afraid of large crowds or being alone. The
woman?s personal world and the world at large are now seen as threatening (Bohmer, pg.
45). Without positive support, the victim may begin to rebuild her life based on knowledge
that she is worthless, helpless and alone.
Of all the after effects of acquaintance rape, the problems victims attend to most
quickly are physical. Victims of rape tend to bleed due to roughness of the man, her own
physical resistance, or lack of lubrication. Marks and bruises are often visible, especially
around the wrists or on the back, from where the attacker held her down. Although it is
unusual (less that 3%), women do become pregnant from rape. When pregnancy occurs, a
woman who has already been traumatized, must face the decision to abort or keep the
baby. This is a difficult decision for most, especially women who have been raised in
strict, religious families. Many victims have a long road of recovery in front of them
before they ever feel good about themselves or trust men again.
Whether brutalized or not, many acquaintance rape victims decide to go to the
hospital. Many medical centers are now equipped with SANE (Sexual Assault Nurse
Examiners). These nurses take samples from the vaginal area (blood and semen left by the
perpetrator) and often give the victim the ?morning after? pill (diethylstilbestrol). The
victims are treated for sexually transmitted diseases, including AIDS. After this very
invasive examination, the victim must decide whether or not to press charges against the
According to sociologists and criminologists nationwide, convictions of rapists are
most likely to occur in cases that fit society?s stereotype of rape: An act committed by an
armed stranger. Rape convictions are less likely to occur in cases in which the man and
woman know each other. This is true especially if they were dating or had any prior sexual
conduct. Police and prosecutors are often reluctant to charge perpetrators in acquaintance
rape crimes, just as juries are unwilling to convict (Koss, pg. 126) This bias is so strong
that some rape-crisis counselors sometimes advise victims of acquaintance rape not to
become involved in criminal proceedings at all. In criminal trials, there are usually three
factors weighing against the date-rape victim: The defendant does not have to testify; the
law demands a high burden of proof, and the decision to convict must be reached by a
unanimous jury. In civil court the man may be forced to testify, the burden of proof
required is somewhat less, and the decision in favor of the victim may be made with a less
than unanimous jury.
Many college students choose an alternative to criminal and civil proceedings -
University Judicial Boards. Schools and universities have such boards to enforce behavior
codes and to hand out punishment to those who break the rules. These boards are often
leftover? from the days when universities functioned in parental roles, although
membership usually includes students as well as faculty. The boards are often ill-prepared
to handle the complexities of acquaintance rape. Most college behavioral codes call for
suspension often a first rape offense and expulsion after a second. Some colleges just give
probation and even order the rapist to simply write a paper on sexual assault. Some
university boards refuse to even hear a case, for fear that highly publicized cases will cause
society to look down upon that institution. One woman stated ?Acquaintance rapes are
very common at our college, but the administration is unwilling to believe it and many
women are afraid to tell?.
Do college judicial boards serve a useful function in combating acquaintance rape?
There are those who feel that university judicial boards are doing the best they can, given
the circumstances. In rape circumstances its always ?her work against his. Statistics
report that being brought before a hearing board has an effect on the accused male
students. Thomas Dougan, dean of student life at the University of Rhode Island, sums up
the effects of hearings. Do they take it seriously? You betcha. Does it have an impact on
them? No question. Will they ever do it again? I don?t know?.
Acquaintance rape is wrong and it is time for parents, students, educators, and
administrators to combine their voices to get that message across. By joining together we
can make it clear that sex and violence do not belong together, sexual assault will not be
tolerated, acquaintance rape victims deserve and will receive help from their community,
and their attackers will be punished.
Colleges across America can work together to make sure this crime is ended.
These institutions must: 1) provide sound information on acquaintance rape; 2) establish
on-campus rape counseling and treatment; and 3) institute fair university procedures for
dealing with offenders. Colleges should establish control of fraternities and sororities and
reconsider the establishment of a ?house parent? living on the premises. They might
consider setting up self-defense classes and re-regulate drug and alcohol laws. Many
students (although they are under the legal drinking age of 21 in the United States)
continue to purchase, distribute, and consume alcohol and drugs in the safety of their own
rooms. Although drugs are not normally tolerated, many resident assistants and
administrators ?look the other way? when they see illegal drinking taking place. College
students are not above the law and should be held accountable for their wrongdoing.
Administrators need to reevaluate dorm safety. Most date rapes have occurred in
coed dorms (Warshaw, pg. 112). Campuses should provide the option of single-sex
dorms to their students. Coed dorms are best organized by single-sex floors or halls,
instead of typical alternating rooms. All dorms should have live-in supervision and
residence hall assistants should receive date rape training each semester. Each student
should be mandated to go through a seminar early in the school year. Topics should
include factually stated impacts of alcohol and drugs upon dating behavior, accountability
for personal behavior, common sense measures to avoid at-risk situations, ways to help
other students, e.g. buddy system at parties and taking car keys, procedures to report all
rapes, confidentiality of counseling and treatment, and finally, college consequences for
sexual assaults. A ?No tolerance? policy should be clearly stated. The sooner we begin to
educate, the sooner date rape might come to an end.
Unfortunately, America?s education system is often unmotivated to correct injustice
on it?s own initiative. In reality, funding is a primary motivate and a tuition-paying student
body means a continued funding flow. Perhaps it is time for students to demand to know
the safety, as well as the academic standards, of the colleges they may choose to attend.
Parents need to determine if administrators establish a campus where their daughters and
sons do not fear for their personal well-being. This includes the proclivity of a campus
toward acquaintance rape. Such information should be demanded and could be provided
easily. Institutions could include statistics of reported student-on-student crimes (not
convictions), by type, in all marketing and recruiting materials and school bulletins.
Statistics could be reported across the previous five years. Colleges and universities should
also report the measures taken that respond to the trends. This could be done either
through voluntary adoption by colleges (successful marketing and recruiting by those
institutions with good safety records could make this common practice), by Department of
Education policy, or enactment of law. In the long run, measures that prevent
acquaintance rape will ?pay off? for universities.
America cannot eliminate acquaintance rape by ending dating. We must redefine
dating and other social interactions between men and women; how we relate as parents,
siblings, friends, peers, co-workers. This means teaching children to break the model of
aggression/passivity that marks male and female interaction. Schools must promote
constructive ways to deal with conflict and anger and teach everyone the responsible use of
alcohol, the dangers of drugs and rejection of the myths that so often contribute to belief in
Only by promoting the idea of sex as a mutually undertaken, freely chosen, fully
conscious interaction … can society create an atmosphere free of the threat of rape.?
"My First Acquaintance with Poets" 1
My father was a Dissenting Minister, at Wem, in Shropshire; and in the year 1798 (the figures that compose the date are to me like the "dreaded name of Demogorgon"). Mr Coleridge came to Shrewsbury, to succeed Mr Rowe in the spiritual charge of a Unitarian Congregation there. He did not come till late on the Saturday afternoon before he was to preach; and Mr Rowe, who himself went down to the coach, in a state of anxiety and expectation, to look for the arrival of his successor, could find no one at all answering the description but a round-faced man, in a short black coat (like a shooting-jacket) which hardly seemed to have been made for him, but who seemed to be talking at a great rate to his fellow-passengers. Mr Rowe had scarce returned to give an account of his disappointment when the round-faced man in black entered, and dissipated all doubts on the subject by beginning to talk. He did not cease while he stayed; nor has he since, that I know of. He held the good town of Shewsbury in delightful suspense for three weeks that he remained there, "fluttering the proud Salopians, like an eagle in a dove-cote"; and the Welsh mountains that skirt the horizon with their tempestuous confusion, agree to have heard no such mystic sound since the days of
"High-born Hoel's harp or soft Llewellyn's lay."
As we passed along between Wem and Shrewbury, and I eyed their blue tops seen through the wintry branches, or the red rustling leaves of the sturdy oak-trees by the road-side, a sound was in my ears as of a Siren's song; I was stunned, startled with it, as from deep sleep; but I had no notion then that I should ever be able to express my admiration to others in motley imagery or quaint allusion, till the light of his genius shone into my soul, like the sun's rays glittering in the puddles of the road. I was at that time dumb, inarticulate, helpless, like a worm by the way-side, crushed, bleeding lifeless; but now, bursting from the deadly bands that "bound them,
"With Styx nine times round them,"
my ideas float on winged words, and as they expand their plumes, catch the golden light of other years. My soul has indeed remained in its original bondage, dark, obscure, with longing infinite and unsatisfied; my heart, shut up in the prison-house of this rude clay, has never found, nor will it ever find, a heart to speak to; but that my understanding also did not remain dumb and brutish, or at length found a language to express itself, I owe to Coleridge. But this is not to my purpose.
My father lived ten miles from Shrewsbury, and was in the habit of exchanging visits with Mr Rowe, and with Mr Jenkins of Whitchurch (nine miles farther on), according to the custom of Dissenting Ministers in each other's neighbourhood. A line of communication is thus established, by which the flame of civil and religious liberty is kept alive, and nourishes its smouldering fire unquenchable, like the fires in the Agamemnon of Aeschylus, placed at different stations, that waited for ten long years to announce with their blazing pyramids the destruction of Troy. Coleridge had agreed to come over and see my father, according to the courtesy of the country, as Mr Rowe's probable successor; but in the meantime, I had gone to hear him preach the Sunday after his arrival. A poet and a philosopher getting up into a Unitarian pulpit to preach the gospel, was a romance in these degenerate days, a sort or revival of the primitive spirit of Christianity, which was not to be resisted.
It was in January of 1798, that I rose one morning before day-light to walk ten miles in the mud, to hear this celebrated person preach. Never, the longest day I have to live, shall I have such another walk as this cold, raw, comfortless one, in the winter of the Year 1798. Il y a des impressions que ni le tems ni les circumstances peuvent effacer. Dusse-je vivre des siecles entiers, le doux tens de ma jeanesse ne peut renatre pour moir, ni s'effacer jamais dans ma memoire. When I got there, the organ was playing the 100th Psalm, and when it was done, Mr Coleridge rose and gave out his text, "And he went up into the mountain to pray, HIMSELF, ALONE." As he gave out this text, his voice "rose like a steam of rich distilled perfumes," and when he came to the two last words, which he pronounced loud, deep, and distinct, it seemed to me, who was then young, as if the sounds had echoed from the bottom of the human heart, and as if that prayer might have floated in solemn silence through the universe. The idea of St. John came into my mind, "of one crying in the wilderness, who had his loins girt about, and whose food was locusts and wild honey." The preacher then launched into his subject, like an eagle dallying with the wind. The sermon was upon peace and war; upon church and state, not their alliance, but their separation -- on the spirit of the world and the spirit of Christianity, not the same, but as opposed to one another. He talked of those who had "inscribed the cross of Christ on banners dripping with human gore." He made a poetical and pastoral excursion -- and to show the fatal effects of war, drew a striking contrast between the simple shepherd-boy, driving his team afield, or sitting under the hawthorne, piping to his flock, "as though he should never been old," and the same poor country-lad, crimped, kidnapped, brought into town, made drunk at an alehouse, turned into a wretched drummer-boy, with his hair sticking on end with powder and pomatum, a long cue at his back, and tricked out in the loathsome finery of the profession of blood:
"Such were the notes our once-loved poet sung."
And for myself, I could not have been more delighted if I had heard the music of the spheres. Poetry and philosophy had met together. Truth and Genius had embraced, under the eye and with the sanction of Religion. This was even beyond my hopes. I returned home well satisfied. The sun that was still labouring pale and wan through the sky, obscured by thick mists, seemed an emblem of the good cause; and the cold dank drops of dew, that hung half melted on the beard of the thistle, had something genial and refreshing in them; for there was a spirit of hope and youth in all nature, that turned everything into good. The face of nature had not then the brand of JUS DIVINUM on it:
"Like to that a sanguine flower inscrib'd with woe."
On the Tuesday following, the half-inspired speaker came. I was called down into the room where he was, and went half-hoping, half-afraid. He received me very graciously, and I listened for a long time without uttering a word. I did not suffer in his opinion by my silence. "For those two hours, " he afterwards was pleased to say, "he was conversing with William Hazlitt's forehead!" His appearance was different from what I had anticipated from seeing him before. At a distance, and in the dim light of chapel, here was to me a strange wildness in his aspect, a dusky obscurity, and I thought him pitted with the small-box. His complexion was at that time clear, and even bright --
"As are the children of yon azure sheen."
His forehead was broad and high, light as if built on ivory, with large projecting eyebrows, and his eyes rolling beneath them, like a sea with darkened lustre. "A certain tender bloom his face o'erspread," a purple tinge as we see it in the pale thoughtful complexions of the Spanish portrait-painters, Murillo and Valesquez. His mouth was gross, voluptuous, open, eloquent; his chin good-humoured and round; but his nose, the rudder of the face, the index of the will, was small, feeble, nothing -- like what he has done. It might seem that the genius of his face as from a height surveyed and projected him (with sufficient capacity and huge aspiration) into the world unknown of thought and imagination, with nothing to support or guide his veering purpose, as if Columbus had launched his adventurous course for the New World in a scallop, without oars or compass. So, at least, I comment on it after the event. Coleridge, in his person, was rather above the common size, inclining to be corpulent, or like Lord Hamlet, "somewhat fat and pursy." His hair (now, alas! Grey) was then black and glossy as the raven's, and fell in smooth masses over his forehead. This long pendulous hair is peculiar to enthusiasts, to those whose minds tend heavenward; and is traditionally inseparable (though of a different colour) from the pictures of Christ. It ought to belong, as a character, to all who preach Christ crucified, and Coleridge was at that time one of those!
It was curious to observe the contrast between him and my father, who was a veteran in the cause, and then declining into the vale of years. He had been a poor Irish lad, carefully brought up by his parents, and sent to the University of Glasgow (where he studied under Adam Smith) to prepare him for his future destination. It was his mother's proudest wish to see her son a Dissenting Minister. So, if we look back to past generations (as far as eye can reach), we see the same hopes, fears, wishes, followed by the same disappointments, throbbing in the human heart; and so we may see them (if we look forward) rising up for ever, and disappearing, like vaporish bubbles in the human breast! After being tossed about from congregation to congregation in the heats of the Unitarian controversy, and squabbles about the American war, he had been relegated to an obscure village, where he was to spend the last thirty years of his life, far from the only converse that he loved, the talk about disputed texts of Scripture, and the cause of civil and religious liberty. Here he passed his days, repining, but resigned, in the study of the Bible and the perusal of the Commentators -- huge folios, not easily got through, one of which would outlast a winter! Why did he pore on these from morn to night (with the exception of a walk in the fields or a turn in the garden to gather broccoli-plants or kidney beans of his own rearing, with no small degree of pride and pleasure)? Here were "no figures nor no fantasies" -- neither poetry nor philosophy -- nothing to dazzle, nothing to excite modern curiosity; but to his lack-lustre eyes there appeared within the pages of the ponderous, unwieldy, neglected tomes, the sacred name of JEHOVAH in Hebrew capitals: pressed down by the weight of the style, worn to the last fading thinness of the understanding, there were glimpses, glimmering notions of the patriarchal wanderings, with plam-trees hovering in the horizon, and the processions of camels at the distance of three thousand years; there was Moses with the Burning Bush, the number of the Twelve Tribes, types, shadows, glosses on the law and the prophets; there were discussions (dull enough) on the age of Methuselah, a mighty speculation! There were outlines, rude guesses at the shape of Noah's Ark and the riches of Solomon's Temple; questions as to the date of the creation, predictions of the end of all things; the great lapses of time, the strange mutations of the globe were unfolded with the voluminous leaf, as it turned over; and though the soul might slumber with an hieroglyphic veil of inscrutable mysteries drawn over it, yet it was in a slumber ill-exchanged for all the sharpened realities of sense, wit, fancy, or reason. My father's life was comparatively a dream; but it was a dream of infinity and eternity, of death, the resurrection, and a judgment to come!
No two individuals were ever more unlike then were the host and his guest. A poet was to my father a sort of nondescript; yet whatever added grace to the Unitarian cause was to him welcome. He could hardly have been more surprised or pleased, if our visitor had worn wings. Indeed, his thoughts had wings: and as the silken sound rustled round our little wainscoted parlour, my father threw back his spectacles over his forehead, his white hairs mixing with its sanguine hue; and a smile of delight beamed across his rugged, cordial face, to think that Truth had found a new ally in Fancy!2 Besides, Coleridge seemed to take considerable notice of me, and that of itself was enough. He talked very familiarly, but agreeably, and glanced over a variety of subjects. At dinner-time he grew more animated, and dilated in a very edifying manner on Mary Wolstonecraft and Mackintosh.3 The last, he said, he considered (on my father's speaking of his Vindiciae Gallicae as a capital performance) as a clever, scholastic man -- a master of the topics -- or, as the ready warehouseman of letters, who knew exactly where to lay his hand on what he wanted, though the goods were not his own. He thought him no match for Burke. either in style or matter. Burke was a metaphysician, Mackintosh a mere logician. Burke was an orator (almost a poet) who reasoned in figures, because he had an eye for nature: Mackintosh, on the other hand, was a rhetorician, who had only an eye to common-places. On this I venture to say that I had always entertained a great opinion of Burke, and that (as far as I could find) the speaking of him with contempt might be made the test of a vulgar, democratical mind. This was the first observation I ever made to Coleridge, and he said it was a very just and striking one. I remember the leg of Welsh mutton and the turnips on the table that day had the finest flavour imaginable. Coleridge added that Mackintosh and Tom Wedgwood (or whom, however he spoke highly) had expressed a very indifferent opinion of his friend Mr Wordsworth. on which he remarked to them -- "He strides on so far before you, that he dwindles in the distance!" Godwin had once boasted to him of having carried on an argument with Mackintosh for three hours with dubious success; Coleridge told him -- "If there had been a man of genius in the room, he would have settled the question in five minutes." He asked me if I had ever seen Mary Wolstonecraft, and I said, I had once for a few moments, and that she seemed to me to turn off Godwin's objections to something she advanced with quite a playful, easy air. He replied, that "this was only one instance of the ascendancy which people of imagination exercised over those of mere intellect." He did not rate Godwin very high4 (this was caprice or prejudice, real or affected), but he had a great idea of Mrs Wolstonecraft's powers of conversation; none at all of her talent for book-making. We talked a little about Holcroft. He had been asked if he was not much struck with him, and he said, he thought himself in more danger of being struck by him. I complained that he would not let me get on at all, for he required a definition of even the commonest word, exclaiming, "What do you mean by a sensation, Sir? What do you mean by an idea?" This, Coleridge said, was barricadoing the road to truth; it was setting up a turnpike-gate at every step we took. I forget a great number of things, many more than I remember; but the day passed off pleasantly, and the next morning Mr Coleridge was to return to Shrewsbury. When I came down to breakfast, I found that he had just received a letter from his friend, T. Wedgwood, making him an offer of 150L a-year if he chose to waive his present pursuit, and devote himself entirely to the study of poetry and philosophy. Coleridge seemed to make up his mind to close with this proposal in the act of tying on one of his shoes. It threw an additional damp on his departure. It took the wayward enthusiast quite from us to cast him into Deva's winding vales, or by the shores of old romance. Instead of living at ten miles' distance, of being a pastor of a Dissenting congregation at Shrewsbury, he was henceforth to inhabit the Hill of Parnassus, to be a Shepherd on the Delectable Mountains. Alas! I knew not the way thither, and felt very little gratitude for Mr Wedgwood's bounty. I was presently relived from this dilemma; for Mr Coleridge, asking for a pen and ink, and going to at table to write something on a bit of card, advanced towards me with undulating step, and giving me the precious document, said that that was his address, Mr Coleridge, Nether-Stowey, Somersetshire; and that he should be glad to see me there in a few weeks' time, and, if I chose, would come half-way to meet me. I was not less surprised than the shepherd-boy (this simile is to be found in Cassandra), when he sees a thunder-bolt fall close at his feet. I stammered out my acknowledgments and acceptance of this offer (I thought Mr Wedgwood's annuity a trifle to it) as well as I could; and this mighty business being settled, the poet-preacher took leave, and I accompanied him six miles on the road. It was a fine morning in the middle of winter, and he talked the whole way. The scholar in Chaucer is described as going
-----"Sounding on his way."
So Coleridge went on his. In digressing, in dilating, in passing from subject to subject, he appeared to me to float in air, to slide on ice. He told me in confidence (going along) that he should have preached two sermons before he accepted the situation at Shrewbury, one on Infant Baptism, the other on the Lord's Supper, showing that he could not administer either, which would have effectually disqualified him for the object in view. I observed that he continually crossed me on the way by shifting from one side of the foot-path to the other. This struck me as an odd movement; but I did not at that time connect it with an instability of purpose or involuntary change of principle, as I have done since. He seemed unable to keep on in a straight line. He spoke slightingly of Hume (whose Essay on Miracles he said was stolen from an objection started in one of South's sermons -- Credat Judeaus Apella!) I was not very much pleased at this account of Hume, for I had just been reading, with infinite relish, that completest of all metaphysical choke-pears, his Treatise on Human Nature. to which the Essays, in point of scholastic subtility and close reasoning are mere elegant trifling, light summer reading. Coleridge even denied the excellence of Hume's general style, which I think betrayed a want of taste or candour. He however, made me amends by the manner in which he spoke of Berkeley. He dwelt particularly on his Essay on Vision as a masterpiece of analytical reasoning. So it undoubtedly is. He was exceedingly angry with Dr Johnson for striking the stone with his foot, in allusion to this author's Theory of Matter and Spirit, and saying "Thus I confute him, Sir." Coleridge drew a parallel (I don't know how he brought about the connexion) between Bishop Berkeley and Tom Paine. He said the one was an instance of a subtle, the other of an acute mind, than which no two things could be more distinct. The one was a shop-boy's quality, the other the characteristic of a philosopher. He considered Bishop Butler [1774-1839] as a true philosopher, a profound and conscientious thinker, a genuine reader of nature and his own mind. He did not speak of his Analogy, but of his Sermons at the Rolls' Chapel, of which I had never heard. Coleridge somehow always contrived to prefer the unknown to the known. In this instance he was right. The Analogy is a tissue of sophistry, of wire-drawn, theological special-pleading; the Sermons (with the preface to them) are in a fine vein of deep, matured reflection, a candid appeal to our observation of human nature, without pedantry and without bias. I told Coleridge I had written a few remarks, and was sometimes foolish enough to believe that I had made a discovery on the same subject (The Natural Disinterestedness of the Human Mind) -- and I tried to explain my view of it to Coleridge, who listened with great willingness, but I did not succeed in making myself understood. I sat down to the task shortly afterwards for the twentieth time, got new pens and paper, determined to make clear work of it, wrote a few meagre sentences in the skeleton-style of a mathematical demonstration, stopped half-way down the second page; and after trying in vain to pump up any words, images, notions, apprehensions, facts or observations, from that gulph of abstraction in which I had plunged myself for four or five years preceding, gave up the attempt as labour in vain, and shed tears of helpless despondency on the blank unfinished paper. I can write fast enough now. Am I better than I was then? Or no! One truth discovered, one pang of regret at not being able to express it, is better than all the fluency and flippancy in the world. Would that I could go back to what I then was! Why can we not revive past times as we can revisit old places? If I had the quaint Muse of Sir Philip Sidney to assist me, I would write a Sonnet to the Road between Wem and Shrewsbury, and immortalise every step of it by some fond enigmatical conceit. I would swear that the very milestones had ears, and that Harmer-hill stooped with all its pines, to listen to a poet, as he passed! I remember but one other topic of discourse in this walk. He mentioned Paley, praised the naturalness and clearness of his style, but condemned his sentiments, thought him a mere time-serving casuist, and said that "the fact of his work on Moral and Political Philosophy being made a text book in our Universities was a disgrace to the natural character." We parted at the six-mile stone; and I returned homeward, pensive, but much pleased. I had met with unexpected notice from a person whom I believed to have been prejudiced against me. "Kind and affable to me had been his condescension and should be honoured ever with suitable regard." He was the first poet I had known, and he certainly answered to that inspired name. I had heard a great deal of his powers of conversation, and was not disappointed. In fact, I never met with anything at all like them, either before or since, I could easily credit the accounts which were circulated of his holding forth to a large party of ladies and gentlemen, an evening or two before, on the Berkeleian Theory, when he made the whole material universe look like a transparency of fine words; and another story (which I believe he has somewhere told himself) of his being asked to a party at Birmingham, of his smoking tobacco and going to sleep after dinner on a sofa, where the company found him, to their no small surprise, which was increased to wonder when he started up of a sudden, and rubbing his eyes, looked about him, and launched into a three hours' description of the third heaven, of which he had had a dream, very different from Mr Southey's Vision of Judgment, and also form that other Vision of Judgment, which Mr Murray, the Secretary of the Bridge-street Junto, took into his especial keeping!
On my way back, I had a sound in my ears -- it was the voice of Fancy; I had a light before me -- it was the face of Poetry. The one still lingers there, the other has not quitted my side! Coleridge, in truth, met me half-way on the ground of philosophy, or I should not have been won over to his imaginative creed. I had an uneasy, pleasurable sensation all the time, till I was to visit him. During those months the chill breath of winter gave me a welcoming; the vernal air was balm and inspiration to me. The golden sun-sets, the silver star of evening, lighted me on my way to new hopes and prospects. I was to visit Coleridge in the Spring. This circumstance was never absent form my thoughts, and mingled with all my feelings. I wrote to him at the time proposed, and received an answer postponing my intended visit for a week or two, but very cordially urging me to complete my promise then. This delay did not damp, but rather increased my ardour. In the meantime, I went to Llangollen Vale, by way of initiating myself in the mysteries of natural scenery; and I must say I was enchanted with it. I had been reading Coleridge's description of England in his fine Ode on the Departing Year, and I applied it, con amore. to the objects before me. That valley was to me (in a manner) the cradle of a new existence: in the river that winds through it, my spirit was baptised in the waters of Helicon!
I returned home, and soon after set out on my journey with unworn heart, and untried feet. My way lay through Worcester and Gloucester, and by Upton, where I thought of Tom Jones and the adventure of the muff. I remember getting completely wet through one day, and stopping at an inn (I think it was at Tewkesbury) where I sat up all night to read Paul and Virginia. Sweet were the showers in early youth that drenched my body, and sweet the drops of pity that fell upon the books I read! I recollect a remark of Coleridge's upon this very book -- that nothing could show the gross indelicacy of French manners and the entire corruption of their imagination more strongly than the behaviour of the heroine in the last fatal scene, who turns away from a person on board the sinking vessel, that offers to save her life, because he has thrown off his clothes to assist him in swimming. Was this a time to think of such a circumstance? I once hinted to Wordsworth, as we were sailing in his boat on Grasmere lake, that I thought he had borrowed the idea of his Poems on the Naming of Places, from the local inscriptions of the same kind in Paul and Virginia. He did not own the obligation, and stated some distinction without a difference, in defense of his claim to originality. Any the slightest variation would be sufficient for this purpose in his mind; for whatever he added or altered would inevitably be worth all that any one else had done, and contain the marrow of the sentiment. -- I was still two days before the time fixed for my arrival, for I had taken care to set out early enough, I stopped these two days at Bridgewater; and when I was tired of sauntering on the banks of its muddy river, returned to the inn and read Camilla. So have I loitered my life away, reading books, looking at pictures, going to plays, hearing, thinking, writing on what pleased me best. I have wanted only one thing to make me happy; but wanting that, have wanted everything!
I arrived, and was well received. The country about Nether Stowey is beautiful, green and hilly, and near the sea-shore. I saw it but the other day, after an interval of twenty years, from a hill near Taunton. How was the map of my life spread out before me, as the map of the country lay at my feet. In the afternoon, Coleridge took me over to All-Foxden, a romantic old family mansion of the St. Aubins, where Wordsworth lived. It was then in the possession of a friend of the poet's who gave him the free use of it. Somehow, that period (the time just after the French Revolution) was not a time when nothing was given for nothing. The mind opened and a softness might be perceived coming over the heart of individuals beneath "the scales that fence" our self-interest. Wordsworth himself was from home, but his sister kept house, and set before us a frugal repast; and we had free access to her brother's poems, the Lyrical Ballads. which were still in manuscript, or in the form of Sybilline Leaves. I dipped into a few of these with great satisfaction, and with the faith of a novice. I slept that night in an old room with blue hangings and covered with round-faced family-portraits of the age of George I and II, and from the wooded declivity of the adjoining park that overlooked my window, at the dawn of day, could
---"hear the loud stag speak."
In the outset of life (and particularly at this time I felt it so) our imagination has a body to it. We are in a state between sleeping and waking, and have indistinct but glorious glimpses of strange shapes, and there is always something to come better than what we see. As in our dreams the fullness of the blood gives warmth and reality to the coinage of the brain, so in youth our ideas are clothed, and fed, and pampered with our good sprits, we breathe thick with thoughtless happiness, the weight of future years presses on the strong pulses of the heart, and we repose with undisturbed faith in truth and good. As we advance, we exhaust our fund of enjoyment and of hope. We are no longer wrapped in lamb's-wool lulled in Elysium. As we taste the pleasures of life, their spirit evaporates, the sense palls; and nothing is left but the phantoms, the lifeless shadows of what has been!
That morning, as soon as breakfast was over, we strolled out into the park, and seating ourselves on the trunk of an old ash-tree that stretched along the ground, Coleridge read aloud with a sonorous and musical voice, the ballad of Betty Foy. I was not critically or sceptically inclined. I saw touches of truth and nature, and took the rest for granted. But in the Thorn, the Mad Mother, and the Complaint of a Poor Indian Woman, I felt that deeper power and pathos which have been since acknowledged,
"In spite of pride, in erring reason's spite,"
as the characteristics of this author; and the sense of a new style and a new spirit in poetry came over me. It had to me something of the effect that arises form the turning up of the fresh soil, or of the first welcome breath of Spring;
"While yet the trembling year is unconfirmed."
Coleridge and myself walked back to Stowey that evening, and his voice sounded high
"Of Providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, Fix'd fate, free-will, foreknowledge absolute."
as we passed through echoing grove, by fair stream or waterfall gleaming in the summer moonlight! He lamented that Wordsworth was not prone enough to believe in the traditional superstitions of the place and that there was something corporeal, a-matter-of-fact-ness, a clinging to the palpable, or often to the petty, in his poetry, in consequence. His genius was not a spirit that descended to him through the air; it sprung out of the ground like a flower, or unfolded itself from a green spray, on which the goldfinch sang. He said, however (if I remember right), that this objection must be confined to his descriptive pieces, that his philosophic poetry had a grand and comprehensive spirit, in it, so that his soul seemed to inhabit the universe like a palace, and to discover truth by intuition, rather than by deduction. The next day Wordsworth arrived from Bristol at Coleridge's cottage. I think I see him now. He answered in some degree to his friend's description of him, but was more quaint and Don Quixote-like. He was quaintly dressed (according the costume of that unconstrained period) in a brown fustian jacket and striped pantaloons. There was something of a roll, a lounge in his gait, not unlike his own Peter Bell. There was a severe, worn pressure of thought about his temples, a fire in his eye (as if he saw something in objects more than the outward appearance), an intense, high, narrow forehead, a Roman nose cheeks furrowed by strong purpose and feeling, and a conclusive inclination to laughter about the mouth, a good deal at variance with the solemn, stately expression of the rest of his face. Chantrey's bust wants the marking traits; but he was teazed into making it regular and heavy: Haydon's head of him, introduced into the Entrance of Christ into Jerusalem, is the most like his drooping weight of thought and expression. He sat down and talked very naturally and freely, with a mixture of clear, gushing accents in his voice, a deep guttural intonation, and a strong tincture of the northern burr, like the crust on wine. He instantly began to make havoc of the half of a Cheshire cheese on the table, and said, triumphantly, that "his marriage with experience had not been so productive as Mr Southey's in teaching him a knowledge of the good things of this life." He had been to see the Castle Spectre by Monk Lewis, while at Bristol, and described it very well. He said "it fitted the taste of the audience like a glove." This ad captandum merit was however by no means a recommendation of it, according to the severe principles of the new school, which reject rather than court popular effect. Wordworth, looking out of the low, latticed window, said, "How beautifully the sun sets on that yellow bank!" I thought within myself, "With what eyes these poets see nature!" and ever after, when I saw the sun-set stream upon the objects facing it, conceived I had made a discovery, or thanked Mr Wordsworth for having made one for me! We went over to All-Foxden again the day following, and Wordsworth read us the story of Peter Bell in the open air; and the comment made upon it by his face and voice was very different from that of some later critics! Whatever might be thought of the poem, "His face was as a book where men might read strange matters," and he announced the fate of his hero in prophetic tones. There was a chaunt in the recitation both of Coleridge and Wordsworth, which acts as a spell upon the hearer, and disarms the judgment. Perhaps they have deceived themselves by making habitual use of this ambiguous accompaniment. Coleridge's manner is more full, animated, and varied; Wordworth's more equable, sustained, and internal. The one might be termed more dramatic, the other more lyrical. Coleridge has told me that he himself liked to compose in walking over uneven ground, or breaking through the straggling branches of a copse-wood, whereas Wordsworth always wrote (if he could) walking up and down a straight gravel-walk, or in some spot where the continuity of his verse met with no collateral interruptions. Returning that same evening, I got into a metaphysical argument with Wordsworth, while Coleridge was explaining the different notes of the nightingale to his sister, which we neither of us succeeded in making ourselves perfectly clear and intelligible. Thus I passed three weeks at Nether Stowey and in the neighborhood, generally devoting the afternoons to a delightful chat in an arbour made of bark by the poet's friend Tom Poole, sitting under to fine elm trees, and listening to the bees humming round us, while we quaffed our flip. It was agreed, among other things, that we should make a jaunt down the Bristol Channel, as far as Linton. We set off together on foot, Coleridge, John Chester, and I. This Chester was a native of Nether Stowey, one of those who were attracted to Coleridge's discourse as flies are to honey, or bees in swarming-time to the sound of a brass pan. He "followed in the chace like a dog who hunts, not like one that made up the cry." He had on a brown cloth coat, boots, and corduroy breeches, was low in stature, bow-legged, had a drag on his walk like a drover, which he assisted by a hazel switch, and kept on a sort of trot by the side of Coleridge, like a running footman by a state coach, that he might not lose a syllable or sound that fell from Coleridge's lips. He told me his private opinion that Coleridge was a wonderful man. He scarcely opened his lips, much less offered an opinion the whole way: yet of the three, had I to choose during the journey, I would be John Chester. He afterwards followed Coleridge into Germany, were the Kantean philosophers were puzzled how to bring him under any of their categories. When he sat down at table with is idol, John's felicity was complete; Sir Walter Scot's or Mr Blackwood's when they sat down at the same table with the King, was not more so. We passed Dunster on our right, a small town between the brow of the a hill and the sea. I remember eyeing it wistfully as it lay below us: contrasted with the woody scene around, it looked as clear, as pure, as embrowned and ideal as any landscape I have seen since, of Gaspar Poussin's or Domenichino's. We had a long day's march -- (our feet kept time to the echoes of Coleridge's tongue) -- through Minehead and by the Blue Anchor, and on to Linton, which we did not reach till near midnight, and where we had some difficulty in making a lodgment. We, however, knocked the people of the house up at last, and we were repaid for our apprehensions and fatigue by some excellent rashers of fried bacon and eggs. The view in coming along had been splended. We walked for miles and miles on dark brown heaths overlooking the Channel, with the Welsh hills beyond, and at times descended into little sheltered valleys close by the sea-side, with a smuggler's face scowling by us, and then had to ascend conical hills with a path winding up through a coppice to a barren top, like a monk's shaven crown, from one of which I pointed out to Coleridge's notice the bare masts of a vessel on the very edge of the horizon, and within the red-orbed disk of the setting sun, like his own spectre-ship in the Ancient Mariner. At Linton the character of the sea-coast becomes more marked and rugged. There is a place called the Valley of Rocks (I suspect this was only the poetical name for it,) bedded among precipices overhanging the sea, with rocky caverns beneath, into which the waves dash, and where the sea-gull for ever wheels its screaming flight. On the tops of these are huge stones thrown transverse, as if an earthquake had tossed them there, and behind these is a fretwork of perpendicular rocks, something like the Giant's Causeway. A thunderstorm came on while we were at the inn, and Coleridge was running out bare-headed to enjoy the commotion of the elements in the Valley of Rocks, but as if in spite, the clouds only muttered a few angry sounds, and let fall a few refreshing drops. Coleridge told me that he and Wordsworth were to have made this place the scene of a prose-tale, which was to have been in the manner of, but far superior to, the Death of Abel, but they had relinquished the design. In the morning of the second day, we breakfasted luxuriously in an old-fashioned parlour on tea, toast, eggs, and honey, in the very sight of the bee-hives from which it had been taken, and a garden full of thyme and wildflowers that had produced it. On this occasion Coleridge spoke of Virgil's Georgics, but not well. I do not think he had much feeling for the classical or elegant. It was in this room that we found a little worn-out copy of the Seasons. lying in a window-seat, on which Coleridge exclaimed, "That is true fame!" He said Thomson was a great poet, rather than a good one; his style was as meretricious as his thoughts were natural. He spoke of Cowper as the best modern poet. He said the Lyrical Ballads were an experiment about to be tried by him and Wordsworth, to see how far the public taste would endure poetry written in a more natural and simple style than had hitherto been attempted; totally discarding the artifices of poetical diction, and making use only of such words as had probably been common in the most ordinary language since the days of Henry II. Some comparison was introduced between Shakspeare and Milton. He said "he hardly knew which to prefer. Shakspeare appeared to him a mere stripling in the art, he was as tall and as strong, with infinitely more activity than Milton, but he never appeared to have come to man's estate; of if he had, he would not have been a man, but a monster." He spoke with contempt for Gray. and with intolerance of Pope. He did not like the versification of the latter. He observed that "the ears of these couplet-writers might be charged with having short memories that could not retain the harmony of whole passages." He thought little of Junius as a writer, he had a dislike of Dr Johnson; and much higher opinion of Burke as an orator and politician, than of Fox or Pitt. He, however, thought him very inferior in richness of style and imagery to some of out elder prose-writers, particularly Jeremy Taylor. He liked Richardson, but not Fielding; nor could I get him to enter in the merits of Caleb Williams .5 In short, he was profound and discriminating with respect to those authors whom he liked, and where he gave his judgment fair play; capricious, perverse, and prejudiced in his antipathies and distastes. We loitered on the "ribbed sea-sands," in such talk as this a whole morning, and, I recollect, met with a curious sea-weed, of which John Chester told us the country name! A fisherman gave Coleridge an account of a boy that had been drowned the day before, and that they had tried to save him at the risk of their own lives. He said "he did not know how it was that they ventured, but Sir, we have a nature towards one another." This expression Coleridge remarked to me, was a fine illustration of that theory of disinterestedness which I (in common with Butler) had adopted. I broached to him an argument of mine to prove that likeness was not mere association of ideas. I said the mark in the sand put one in mind of a man's foot, not because it was part of a former impression of a man's foot (for it was quite new), but because it was like the shape of a man's foot. He assented to the justness of this distinction (which I have explained at length elsewhere, for the benefit of the curious) and John Chester listened; not from any interest in the subject, but because he was astonished that I should be able to suggest anything to Coleridge that he did not already know. We returned on the third morning, and Coleridge remarked the silent cottage-smoke curling up the valleys where, a few evenings before we had seen the lights gleaming through the dark.
In a day or two after we arrived at Stowey, we set out, I on my return home, and he for Germany. It was a Sunday morning, and he was to preach that day for Dr Toulmin of Taunton. I asked him if he had prepared anything for the occasion? He said he had not even thought of the text, but should as soon as we parted. I did not go to hear him -- this was a fault -- but we met in the evening at Bridgewater. The next day we had a long day's walk to Bristol, and sat down, I recollect, by a well-side on the road, to cool ourselves and satisfy our thirst, when Coleridge repeated to me some descriptive lines of his tragedy of Remorse; which I must say became his mouth and that occasion better than they, some years after, did Mr Ellistons' and the Drury-lane boards --
"Oh, memory! Shield me from the world's poor strife,
And give these scenes thine everlasting life."
I saw no more of him for a year or two, during which period he had been wandering in the Hartz Forest, in Germany; and his return was cometary, meteorous, unlike his setting out. It was not till some time after that I knew of his friends Lamb and Southey. The last always appears to me (as I first saw him) with a commonplace book under his arm, and the first with a bon-mot in his mouth. It was at Godwin's that I met with Holcroft and Coleridge, where they were disputing fiercely which was the best -- Man as he was, or man as he is to be. "Give me," says Lamb, "man as he is not to be." This saying was the beginning of a friendship between us, which I believe still continues. -- Enough of this for the present.
"But there is matter for another rhyme,
And I to this may add a second tale."
1 Hazlitt's "My First Acquaintance with Poets" was first published in the The Liberal. April, 1823 and can be found reproduced in Winterslow, Essays and Characters Written There (Oxford University Press, 1906.); Selected Essays Geoffrey Keynes, Ed. (London: Nonsuch Press, 1930); The Best of Hazlitt. P. P. Howe, Ed. (London: Methuen, 1947); Hazlitt's Essays introduction by Herbert Paul (London: Cassell, nd); and, William Hazlitt, Selected Writings. edited and with introduction by Jon Cook (Oxford University Press, 1991).
2 (My father was one of those who mistook his talent, after all. He used to be very much dissatisfied that I preferred his Letters to his Sermons. The last were forced and dry; the first came naturally from him. For ease, half-plays on words, and a supine, monkish, indolent pleasantry, I have never seen them equalled.) The original footnote found in Keynes' colllection; I have, in turn, placed them in parentheses.
3 This would be Sir James Mackintosh (1765-1832), who, though he showed brilliant promise, like Coleridge, became an opium addict.
4 (He complained in particular of the presumption of his attempting to establish the future immortality of man, "without" (as he said) "knowing what Death was or what Life was" -- and the tone in which he pronounced these two words seemed to convey a complete image of both.)
5 (He had no idea of pictures, of Claude or Raphael, and at this time I had as little as he. He sometimes gives a striking account at present of the Cartoons at Pisa by Buffamalco and others; of one in particular, where Death is seen in the air brandishing his scythe, and the great and mighty of the earth shudder at his approach, while the beggars and wretched kneel to him as their deliverer. He would, of course, understand so broad and fine a moral as this at any time.)
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