CHAPTER III. PANTISOCRACY PROPOSED TO BE TRIED IN WALES.-LETTERS TO MR. G. C. BEDFORD.-DIFFICULTIES MISUNDERSTANDING MR. COLERIDGE.-LETTER TO MR. G. C. BEDFORD. MEETING WITH HIS UNCLE MR. HILL.-CONSENTS TO ACCOMPANY HIM TO LISBON.—MARRIAGE.— LETTERS TO MR. BEDFORD AND MR. COTTLE.-1794-1795. My father was now a homeless adventurer; conscious of great resources in himself, but not knowing how to bring them into use; full of hope and the most ardent aspirations, but surrounded with present wants and difficulties. America was still the haven of his hopes, and for a little while he indulged in the pleasing anticipation, "Would that March were over!" he writes at this time to Mr. Bedford. "Affection has one or two strong cords round my heart, and will try me painfully—you and Wynn! A little network must be broken here; that I mind not, but my mother does; my mind is full of futurity, and lovely is the prospect; I am now like a traveller crossing precipices to get home, but my foot shall not slip."* * Oct. 19. 1794. The difficulty of raising sufficient funds for their purpose was now, however, becoming daily more and more evident; and it appears to have been next proposed by my father that the experiment of Pantisocracy should be first tried in some retired part of Wales, until some lucky turn of fortune should enable them to carry out their scheme of transatlantic social colonisation. To this Mr. Coleridge at first strongly objects, and sees now more clearly the difficulties of the plan, which the roll of the Atlantic seemed to obscure from their sight. "For God's sake, my dear fellow," he writes in remonstrance to my father, "tell me what we are to gain by taking a Welsh farm? Remember the principles and proposed consequences of Pantisocracy, and reflect in what degree they are attainable by Coleridge, Southey, Lovell, Burnett, and Co., some five men going partners together! In the next place, supposing that we have found the preponderating utility of our aspheterising in Wales, let us by our speedy and united inquiries discover the sum of money necessary. Whether such a farm with so very large a house is to be procured without launching our frail and unpiloted bark on a rough sea of anxieties. How much money will be necessary for furnishing so large a house. How much necessary for the maintenance of so large a family — eighteen people for a year at least." But the plan of going into Wales did not prosper any more than that of genuine Pantisocracy: the close of the year and the beginning of the next found matters still in the same unsatisfactory state. Mr. Coleridge had kept the Michaelmas Term at Cambridge the last he kept; and having gone from thence to London, remained there until early in the following January, when he returned to Bristol with my father, who had chanced to go up to town at that time. The following letters will illustrate this period. In the latter one we have a vivid picture of the distresses and difficulties of his present position. To Grosvenor C. Bedford, Esq. "My dear Grosvenor, "Bath, Jan. 5. 1795. "If I were not very well acquainted with your disposition, I should apprehend, by your long silence, that you are offended with me. In one letter I spoke too warmly, but you know my affections are warm. I was sorry at having done so, and wrote to say so. The jolting of a rough cart over rugged roads is very apt to excite tumults in the intestinal canal; even so are the rubs of fortune prone to create gizzard grumblings of temper. "Now, if you are not angry (and, on my soul, I believe you and anger to be perfectly heterogeneous), you will write to me very shortly; if you are, why you must remain so for a fortnight: then, it is probable, I shall pass two days in London, on my way to Cambridge; and, as one of them will be purely to be with you, if I do not remove all cause of complaint you have against Robert Southey, you shall punish him with your everlasting displeasure. "From Horace, too, I hear nothing. Were I on the Alleghany Mountains, or buried in the wilds of Caernarvonshire, I could not have less intercourse with you. Perhaps you are weaning me, like a child. And now, Bedford, I shall shortly see G. S.*, if he be in London or at Trinity. Two days in London: one with you, when I shall call on him; the other with some friends of Coleridge, and correspondents of mine, admirable poets and Pantisocrats. How will G. S. receive me? is he altered? will he be reserved, and remember only our difference? Or is there still the same goodness of heart in him as when we first met? I feel some little agitation at the thought. G. S. was the first person I ever met with, who at all assimilated with my disposition. I was a physiognomist without knowing it. He was my substance. I loved him as a brother once: perhaps he is infected with politesse; is polite to all, and affectionate to none. Coleridge is a man who has every thing of but his vices: he is what would have been, had he given up that time to study, which he consumed you know how lamentably. "I will give you a little piece which I wrote, and which he corrected. 'Twas occasioned by the funeral of a pauper, without one person attending it.† "I like this little poem, and there are few of mine of which I can say that. * A schoolfellow with whom he had once been very intimate. † Here follows "The Pauper's Funeral," printed among my father's minor poems. "Bedford, I can sing eight songs:-1. The antique and exhilarating Bacchanalian, Back and Sides go Bare. 2. The Tragedy of the Mince Pie, or the Cruel Master Cook. 3. The Comical Jest of the Farthing Rushlight. 4. The Bloody Gardener's Cruelty. 5. The Godly Hymn of the Seven Good Joys of the Virgin Mary; being a Christmas Carol. 6. The Tragedy of the Beaver Hat; or, as newly amended, The Brunswick Bonnet; containing three apt Morals. 7. The Quaint Jest of the Three Crows. Life and Death of Johnny Bulan. .. 8. The "Now I shall outdo Horace! . . . Farewell, and believe me always Your sincere and affectionate ROBERT SOUTHEY." To Grosvenor C. Bedford, Esq. 66 'Bristol, Feb. 8. 1795. "I have been reading the four first numbers of 'The Flagellant:' they are all I possess. My dearest Grosvenor, they have recalled past times forcibly to my mind, and I could almost weep at the retrospect. Why have I not written to you before? Because I could only have told you of uncertainty and suspense. There is nothing more to say now. The next six months will afford more variety of incidents. But, my dear Bedford, though you will not love me the less, you will shake your head, and lament the effects of what you call enthusiasm. Would to God that we agreed in sentiment! for then you could enter |