Chapter III (2)

On the day following the editor promised the character of Buonaparte, but the surmise of a visit from the French minister, then at our court, was sufficient to put a stop to its publication; accordingly it 'never appeared'. Coleridge was requested by the proprietor and editor to report a speech of Pitt's, which at this time was expected to be one of great éclat.

Accordingly, early in the morning off Coleridge set, carrying with him his supplies for the campaign: those who are acquainted with the gallery of the house on a press night, when a man can scarcely find elbow room, will better understand how incompetent Coleridge was for such an undertaking; he, however, started by seven in the morning, but was exhausted long before night. Mr. Pitt, for the first quarter of an hour spoke fluently, and in his usual manner, and sufficiently to give a notion of his best style; this was followed by a repetition of words, and words only; he appeared to "talk against time," as the phrase is. Coleridge fell asleep, and listened occasionally only to the speeches [13] that followed. On his return, the proprietor being anxious for the report, Coleridge informed him of the result, and finding his anxiety great, immediately 'volunteered' a speech for Mr. Pitt, which he wrote off hand, and which answered the purpose exceedingly well: it is here presented. The following day, and for days after the publication, the proprietor received complimentary letters announcing the pleasure received at the report, and wishing to know who was the reporter. The secret was, however, kept, and the real author of the speech concealed; but one day Mr. Canning calling on business, made similar inquiries, and received the same answer. Canning replied, "It does more credit to the author's head than to his memory.

[14] The honourable gentleman calls upon ministers to state the object
of the war in one sentence. I can state it in one word: it is
Security. I can state it in one word, though it is not to be explained
but in many. The object of the war is security: security against a
danger, the greatest that ever threatened this country; the greatest
that ever threatened mankind; a danger the more terrible, because it
is unexampled and novel. It is a danger which has more than menaced
the safety and independence of all nations; it is a danger which has
attacked the property and peace of all individuals; a danger which
Europe has strained all its sinews to repel; and which no nation has
repelled so successfully as the British; because no nation has acted
so energetically, so sincerely, so uniformly on the broad basis of
principle; because no other nation has perceived with equal clearness
and decision the necessity, not only of combating the evil abroad, but
of stifling it at home; because no nation has breasted with so firm a
constancy the tide of jacobinical power; because no nation has pierced
with so steadfast an eye, through the disguises of jacobinical
hypocrisy; but now, it seems, we are at once to remit our zeal and our
suspicion; that Jacobinism, which alarmed us under the stumbling and
drunken tyranny of Robespierre; that Jacobinism, which insulted and
roused us under the short-sighted ambition of the five Directors; that
Jacobinism, to which we have sworn enmity through every shifting of
every bloody scene, through all those abhorred mockeries which have
profaned the name of liberty to all the varieties of usurpation; to
this Jacobinism we are now to reconcile ourselves, because all its
arts and all its energies are united under one person, the child and
the champion of Jacobinism, who has been reared in its principles, who
has fought its battles, who has systematised its ambition, at once the
fiercest instrument of its fanaticism, and the gaudiest puppet of its
folly!

The honourable gentleman has discovered, that the danger of French
power and French principles is at an end, because they are concentred,
and because to uniformity of design is added an unity of direction; he
has discovered that all the objects of French ambition are
relinquished, because France has sacrificed even the 'appearances' of
freedom to the best means of realising them; in short that now, for
the first time, Jacobinism is not to be dreaded, because now, for the
first time, it has superadded to itself the compactness of despotism.
But the honourable gentleman presses hard, and requires me to be
definite and explicit. What, says he, do you mean by destroying the
power of Jacobinism? Will, you persevere in the war, until you have
received evidence that it is extinct in this country, extinct in
France, extinct in the mind of every man? No! I am not so shamefully
ignorant of the laws that regulate the soul of man. The mind once
tainted with Jacobinism can never be wholly free from the taint; I
know no means of purification; when it does not break out on the
surface, it still lurks in the vitals; no antidote can approach the
subtlety of the venom, no length of quarantine secure us against the
obstinacy of the pestilence.

Those who are now telling us, that all danger from revolutionary
principles is now passed by, are yet endeavouring to call up again the
very arguments which they used at the commencement of the war, in the
youth and rampancy of Jacobinism; and repeat the same language, with
which they then attempted to lull the nation into security, combined
with the same acts of popular irritation. They are telling us, that
ministers disregard peace; that they are prodigal of blood; insensible
to the miseries, and enemies to the liberties of mankind; that the
extinction of Jacobinism is their pretext, but that personal ambition
is their motive; and that we have squandered two hundred millions on
an object, unattainable were it desirable, and were it not
unattainable, yet still to be deprecated. Sir, will men be governed by
mere words without application? This country, Sir, will not. It knows
that to this war it owes its prosperity, its constitution, whatever is
fair or useful in public or domestic life, the majesty of her laws,
the freedom of her worship, and the sacredness of our firesides. For
these it has spent two hundred millions, for these it would spend two
hundred millions more; and, should it be necessary, Sir, I doubt not
that I could find those two hundred millions, and still preserve her
resources unimpaired. The only way to make it not necessary is to
avail ourselves of the hearty co-operation of our allies, and to
secure and invigorate that co-operation by the firmness and vigour of
our own conduct. The honourable gentleman then comes back upon me, and
presses me upon the supposed dissonance between our views and those of
our allies. But surely there may allowably exist in the minds of
different men different means of arriving at the same security. This
difference may, without breaking the ties of effective union, exist
even in this house; how much more then in different kingdoms? The
Emperor of Russia may have announced the restoration of monarchy, as
exclusively his object. This is not considered as the ultimate object
by this country, but as the best means and most reliable pledge of a
higher object, viz. our own security, and that of Europe; but we do
not confine ourselves to this, as the only possible means.

From this shade of difference we are required to infer the
impossibility of cordial co-operation! But here the honourable
gentleman falls into a strange contradiction. He affirms the
restoration of monarchy an unjust object of the war, and refuses
expressly and repeatedly to vote a single farthing on such a ground;
and yet the supposed secession of Russia from the allied powers, the
secession of that government, whose 'exclusive' object is the
restoration of monarchy, is adduced by him as another and equal ground
for his refusal. Had the Emperor of Russia persevered in directing his
utmost forces to the attainment of that object, to which Austria will
not pledge herself, and which the honourable gentleman considers as an
unjust object, then the honourable gentleman would have been
satisfied. But I will not press too hard on the honourable gentleman,
or lay an undue weight on an inadvertence. I will deal most fairly
with him if I did believe, which I do not, that Austria saw no
advantages in the restoration of monarchy, yet still I would avail
myself of her efforts, without changing my own object. Should the
security of Britain and Europe result from the exertions of Austria,
or be aided by her influence, I should think it my duty to advise his
Majesty to lend the Emperor every financial assistance, however those
exertions and that influence might spring from principles not in
unison with our own.

If the honourable gentleman will tell me, that the object of Austria
is to regain the Netherlands, and to reconquer all she may leave lost
in Germany and Italy, so far from feeling this as a cause of distress,
I feel it a ground of consolation, as giving us the strongest
assurance of his sincerity, added to that right which we possess of
believing Austria sincere, from our experience that Austria, above
all, must know the insecurity of peace with Jacobins. This, Sir, would
be a ground of consolation and confident hope; and though we should go
farther than the Emperor of Germany, and stop short of Russia, still,
however, we should all travel in the same road. Yet even were less
justifiable objects to animate our ally, were ambition her inspiring
motive, yet even on that ground I contend that her arms and victories
would conduce to our security. If it tend to strip France of territory
and influence, the aggrandisement of Austria is elevated by comparison
into a blessing devoutly to be wished! The aggrandisement of Austria,
founded on the ruins of Jacobinism, I contend, Sir, to be a truly
British object. But, Sir, the honourable gentleman says, he thinks the
war neither just nor necessary, and calls upon me, without the
qualifying reservations and circuitous distinctions of a special
pleader; in short, without BUTS or IFS, to state the real object; and
affirms that in spite of these buts and ifs, the restoration of
monarchy in France is the real and sole object of ministers, and that
all else contained in the official notes are unmeaning words and
distinctions fallacious, and perhaps meant to deceive. Is it, Sir, to
be treated as a fallacious distinction, that the restoration of
monarchy is not my sole or ultimate object; that my ultimate object is
security, that I think no pledge for that security so unequivocal as
the restoration of monarchy, and no means so natural and so effectual?
'but' if you can present any other mode, that mode I will adopt. I am
unwilling to accept an inadequate security; but the nature of the
security which it may be our interest to demand, must depend on the
relative and comparative dangers of continuing the war, or concluding
a peace. And 'if' the danger of the war should be greater than that of
a peace, and 'if' you can shew to me that there is no chance of
diminishing Jacobinism by the war, and 'if' you can evince that we are
exhausting our means more than our enemies are exhausting theirs, then
I am ready to conclude a peace without the restoration of monarchy.

These are the 'ifs' and the 'buts', which I shall continue to
introduce, not the insidious and confounding subtleties of special
pleading, but the just and necessary distinctions of intelligible
prudence; I am conscious of sincere and honest intentions in the use
of them, and I desire to be tried by no other than God and my country.
But are we not weakening ourselves? Let any man calmly, and with the
mind of an Englishman, look round on the state of our manufactures,
our commerce, on all that forms and feeds the sources of national
wealth, and to that man I can confidently leave the following
questions to be answered. From the negotiations at Lisle to the
present moment has England or France weakened itself in the greater
degree? Whether, at the end of this campaign, France is not more
likely to suffer the feebleness ensuing on exhausted finance than
England?

If Jacobinism, enthroned in Buonaparte, should resist both the
pressure of foreign attack, and its own inherent tendencies to
self-destruction, whether it must not derive such power of resistance
from the use of such revolutionary and convulsive efforts, as involve,
and almost imply a consequent state of feebleness? And whether
therefore, if any unexpected reverse of fortune should make it
expedient or necessary for us to compromise with Jacobinism, it would
not be better for us to compromise with it at the end of the campaign,
than at present? And by parity of reasoning, whether it be not true
(even on the supposition that Jacobinism is not to be routed,
disarmed, and fettered); yet, that even on this supposition, the
longer we defer a peace, the safer that peace will be!

Sir, we have been told that Jacobinism is extinct, or at least dying.
We have been asked too, what we mean by Jacobinism? Sir, to employ
arguments solely to the purposes of popular irritation is a branch of
Jacobinism? It is with pain, Sir, that I have heard arguments
manifestly of this tendency, and having heard them, I hear with
redoubled suspicion of the assertions, that Jacobinism is extinct. By
what softer name shall we characterise the attempts to connect the war
by false facts and false reasoning with accidental scarcity? By what
softer name shall we characterise appeals to the people on a subject
which touches their feelings, and precludes their reasoning? It is
this, Sir, which makes me say, that those whose eyes are now open to
the horrors and absurdities of Jacobinism are nevertheless still
influenced by their early partiality to it. A somewhat of the
'feeling' lurks behind, even when all the 'principle' has been
sincerely abjured. If this be the case with mere spectators, who have
but sympathised in the distance, and have caught disease only by
'looking on', how much more must this hold good of the actors? And
with what increased caution and jealousy ought we not to listen to the
affirmation, that Jacobinism is obsolete even in France? The
honourable gentleman next charges me with an unbeseeming haughtiness
of tone, in deeming that the House had pledged itself to the present
measure by their late vote for the continuance of the war. This is not
accurate. I did not deem the House pledged: I only assigned reasons of
'probability', that having voted for the continuance of war, they
would deem themselves inconsistent if they refused assent to those
measures by which the objects of the war were most likely to be
realised. My argument was, not that the House had pledged itself to
this measure directly, but only as far as they must perceive it to be
a means of bringing the war to that conclusion to which they have
pledged themselves: for unless gendemen will tell me, that though they
cannot prevent votes in favour of the war, they will yet endeavour to
palsy the arm of the country in the conduct of it; and though they
cannot stifle the vast majority of suffrages to the plan, they will
yet endeavour to way-lay it in its execution; unless the gentlemen
will tell me so themselves, I will not impute it to them. (Here Mr.
Pitt made a short reply to some observations of Mr. Bouverie in the
early part of the debate, and then proceeded.) It was said of himself
and friends (and often said) by a gentleman who does not now commonly
honour us with his presence here, 'We are the minority who represent
the opinions of the country.' In my opinion a state of universal
suffrage, formal or virtual, in which, nevertheless, the few represent
the many, is a true picture of Jacobinism. But, however this may be,
if smallness of number is to become a mark and pledge of genuine
representation, that gentleman's friends must acquire the
representative character in a continual progression; for the party has
been constantly decreasing in number, and both here and out of this
House, they are at present fewer than they ever were before. But they
vote for peace, and the people wish for peace; and therefore they
represent the opinions of the people. The people wish for peace--so do
I! But for what peace? Not for a peace that is made to-day and will be
broken to-morrow! Not for a peace that is more insecure and hazardous
than war. Why did I wish for peace at Lisle? Because war was then more
hazardous than peace; because it was necessary to give to the people a
palpable proof of the necessity of the war, in order to their cordial
concurrence with that system of finance, without which the war could
not be successfully carried on; because our allies were then but
imperfectly lessoned by experience; and finally, because the state of
parties then in France was less Jacobinical than at any time since
that era. But will it follow that I was then insincere in negotiating
for peace, when peace was less insecure, and war more hazardous;
because now with decreased advantages of peace, and increased means of
war, I advise against a peace? As to the other arguments, it is of
less consequence to insist upon them, because the opposition implied
in them holds not against this measure in particular, but against the
general principle of carrying on the war with vigour. Much has been
said of the defection of Russia, and every attempt made to deduce from
this circumstance so misnamed causes of despair or diminished hope. It
is true that Russia has withdrawn herself from confident co-operation
with Austria, but she has not withdrawn herself from concert with this
country. Has it never occurred, that France, compelled to make head
against armies pressing on the whole of her frontiers, will be
weakened and distracted in her efforts, by a moveable maritime force?
What may be the ultimate extent of the Russian forces engaged in this
diversion, we cannot be expected to know, cut off as we are from the
continent, by the season and the weather. If the Russians, acting in
maritime diversion on the coast of France, and increased by our own
forces, should draw the French forces from Switzerland and Italy, it
does not follow that the Russians may be greatly, and perhaps equally
useful to the objects of the campaign, although they will cease to act
on the eastern side of France. I do not pretend to know precisely the
number and state of the French armies, but reason only on
probabilities; and chiefly with the view of solving the honourable
gentleman's difficulty, how the Russians can be useful, if not on the
continent. It is unnecessary to occupy the time and attention of the
House with a serious answer to objections, which it is indeed
difficult to repeat with the same gravity with which they were
originally stated.

It was affirmed, gravely affirmed, that £12,000,000 would be wanted
for corn! I should be happy, if, in the present scarcity, corn could
be procured from any, and all parts of the world, to one-third of that
amount. It will not be by such arguments as these, that the country
will be induced to cease a war for security, in order to procure corn
for subsistence. I do object, that there is unfairness both in these
arguments in themselves, and in the spirit which produces them. The
war is now reviled as unjust and unnecessary; and in order to prove it
so, appeals are made to circumstances of accidental scarcity from the
visitation of the seasons. The fallacy of these reasonings is equal to
their mischief. It is not true that you could procure corn more easily
if peace were to be made to-morrow. If this war be unjust, it ought to
be stopped on its own account; but if it be indeed a war of principle
and of necessity, it were useless and abject to relinquish it from
terrors like these. As well might a fortress, sure of being put to the
sword, surrender for want of provision. But that man, Sir, does not
act wisely, if, feeling like a good citizen, he use these arguments
which favour the enemy. God forbid, that an opposition in opinion
among ourselves should make us forget the high and absolute duty of
opposition to the enemies of our country. Sir, in the present times,
it is more than ever the bounden duty of every wise and good man to
use more than ordinary caution in abstaining from all arguments that
appeal to passions, not facts; above all, from arguments that tend to
excite popular irritation on a subject and on an occasion, on which
the people can with difficulty be reasoned with, but are irritated
most easily. To speak incautiously on such subjects, is an offence of
no venial order; but deliberately and wilfully to connect the words,
war and scarcity, were infamous, a treachery to our country, and in a
peculiar degree cruel to those whom alone it can delude, the lower
uneducated classes. I will not enlarge upon that subject, but retire
with a firm conviction that no new facts have occurred which can have
altered the opinion of this House on the necessity of the war, or the
suitableness of similar measures to the present to the effectual
carrying of it on, and that the opinion of the House will not be
altered but by experience and the evidence of facts."

The following paragraph is extracted from private memoranda, and was intended for publication ten years afterwards, in the Courier Newspaper, in which he wrote a series of Essays to Judge Fletcher, which were at that time acknowledged by the most able judges to be prophetic. But it must be remembered he never wrote for party purposes. His views were grounded on Platonic principles keeping the balance of the powers, and throwing his weight into the scale that needed assistance.

OF THE PROFANATION OF THE SACRED WORD "THE PEOPLE."

"Every brutal mob, assembled on some drunken St. Monday of faction, is
'_the People_' forsooth, and now each leprous ragamuffin, like a
circle in geometry, is at once one and all, and calls his own brutal
self 'us the People.' And who are the friends of the People? Not those
who would wish to elevate each of them, or at least, the child who is
to take his place in the flux of life and death, into something worthy
of esteem, and capable of freedom, but those who flatter and infuriate
them as they do. A contradiction in the very thought. For if really
they are good and wise, virtuous and well-informed, how weak must be
the motives of discontent to a truly moral being!--but if the
contrary, and the motives for discontent proportionally strong, how
without guilt and absurdity appeal to them as judges and arbiters! He
alone is entitled to a share in the government of all, who has learnt
to govern himself--there is but one possible ground of a right to
freedom, viz. to understand and revere its duties."

As specimens of his political writings I select the following, and leave party men to criticise them--Coleridge being of no party, but guided, as will sufficiently appear to those who have read his works with attention, solely by philosophical principles, from which he never swerved. Nor did he desire the praise of men, merely because they were in power; still less that of the multitude. For this reason, I repeat, these fragments are given, as illustrative of Coleridge's political views, and to shew how easily the harmony of the constitutional balance may be disturbed by party zeal. His opinions were often misunderstood even sometimes by kindly-disposed individuals, when 'theirs' were not founded on certain data, because their principles were not derived from permanent sources. The doctrine of expediency was one he highly censured, and it had existed long enough to prove to him that it was worthless. What one set of well-intentioned men may effect, and which for a time may have produced good, another set of men by the same doctrine, 'i.e.' of expediency may effect, and then produce incalculable mischief, and, therefore, Coleridge thought there was neither guide nor safety, but in the permanent and uncontrovertible truths of the sacred writings, so that the extent of this utility will depend on faith in these truths, and with these truths, his name must 'live or perish'. But some part of Coleridge's writings requiring too much effort of thought to be at once thoroughly understood, may therefore have been found distasteful, and consequently have exposed his name to ridicule, in some cases even to contempt; but the application Coleridge has made of these truths to the duties and various circumstances of life will surely be found an inestimable blessing. They were truly his rock of support, and formed the basis of the building he was endeavouring to raise.

In the year 1807, he wrote those weekly Essays of the Friend, which were published about this time, and thus gave to the world some of his rich intellectual stores. The following letter, which he addressed to Mr. Cottle, will shew the progress of his mind from Socinian to Trinitarian belief at that period of his life:

"Bristol, 1807.

DEAR COTTLE,

To pursue our last conversation. Christians expect no outward or
sensible miracles from prayer. Its effects, and its fruitions are
spiritual, and accompanied, says that true Divine, Archbishop
Leighton, 'not by reasons and arguments but by an inexpressible kind
of evidence, which they only know who have it.'

To this I would add, that even those who, like me I fear, have not
attained it, may yet presume it. First, because reason itself, or
rather mere human nature, in any dispassionate moment, feels the
necessity of religion, but if this be not true there is no religion,
no religation, or binding over again; nothing added to reason, and
therefore Socinianism (misnamed Unitarianism) is not only not
Christianity, it is not even 'religion', it does not religate; does
not bind anew. The first outward and sensible result of prayer, is, a
penitent resolution, joined with a consciousness of weakness in
effecting it, yea even a dread, too well grounded, lest by breaking
and falsifying it, the soul should add guilt to guilt; by the very
means it has taken to escape from guilt; so pitiable is the state of
unregenerate man.

Are you familiar with Leighton's Works? He resigned his
archbishoprick, and retired to voluntary poverty on account of the
persecution of the Presbyterians, saying, 'I should not dare to
introduce Christianity itself with such cruelties, how much less for a
surplice, and the name of a bishop.' If there could be an intermediate
space between inspired, and uninspired writings, that space would be
occupied by Leighton. No show of learning, no appearance, or
ostentatious display of eloquence; and yet both may be shown in him,
conspicuously and holily. There is in him something that must be felt,
even as the scriptures must be felt. [15]

You ask me my views of the 'Trinity'. I accept the doctrine, not as
deduced from human reason, in its grovelling capacity for
comprehending spiritual things, but as the clear revelation of
Scripture. But perhaps it may be said, the 'Socinians' do not admit
this doctrine as being taught in the Bible. I know enough of their
shifts and quibbles, with their dexterity at explaining away all they
dislike, (and that is not a little) but though beguiled once by them,
I happily, for my own peace of mind, escaped from their sophistries,
and now, hesitate not to affirm, that Socinians would lose all
character for honesty, if they were to explain their neighbour's will
with the same latitude of interpretation, which they do the
Scriptures.

I have in my head some floating ideas on the 'Logos', which I hope,
hereafter, to mould into a consistent form; but it is a gross
perversion of the truth, in 'Socinians', to declare that we believe in
'Three Gods', and they know it to be false. They might, with equal
justice, affirm that we believe in 'three suns'. The meanest peasant,
who has acquired the first rudiments of Christianity, would shrink
back from a thought so monstrous. Still the Trinity has its
difficulties. It would be strange if otherwise. A 'Revelation' that
revealed nothing, not within the grasp of human reason!--no
religation, no binding over again, as before said: but these
difficulties are shadows, contrasted with the substantive, and
insurmountable obstacles with which they contend who admit the 'Divine
authority of Scripture', with the 'superlative excellence of Christ',
and yet undertake to prove that these Scriptures teach, and that
Christ taught, his own 'pure humanity!'

If Jesus Christ was merely a Man,--if he was not God as well as Man,
be it considered, he could not have been even a 'good man'. There is
no medium. The SAVIOUR 'in that case' was absolutely 'a deceiver!'
one, transcendently 'unrighteous!' in advancing pretensions to
miracles, by the 'Finger of God,' which he never performed; and by
asserting claims, (as a man) in the most aggravated sense,
blasphemous!

These consequences, Socinians, to be consistent, must allow, and which
impious arrogation of Divinity in Christ, (according to their faith,)
as well as his false assumption of a community of 'glory' with the
Father, 'before the world was,' even they will be necessitated to
admit, completely exonerated the Jews, according to their law, in
crucifying one, who 'being a man,' 'made himself God!' But, in the
Christian, rather than in the 'Socinian', or 'Pharisaic' view, all
these objections vanish, and harmony succeeds to inexplicable
confusion. If Socinians hesitate in ascribing 'unrighteousness' to
Christ, the inevitable result of their principles, they tremble, as
well they might, at their avowed creed, and virtually renounce what
they profess to uphold.

The Trinity, as Bishop Leighton has well remarked, is, 'a doctrine of
faith, not of demonstration,' except in a 'moral' sense. If the New
Testament declare it, not in an insulated passage, but through the
whole breadth of its pages, rendering, with any other admission, the
Book, which is the Christian's anchor-hold of hope, dark and
contradictory, then it is not to be rejected, but on a penalty that
reduces to an atom, all the sufferings this earth can inflict.

Let the grand question be determined; Is, or is not the Bible
'inspired?' No one Book has ever been subjected to so rigid an
investigation as the Bible, by minds the most capacious, and, in the
result, which has so triumphantly repelled all the assaults of
Infidels. In the extensive intercourse which I have had with this
class of men, I have seen their prejudices surpassed only by their
ignorance. This I found conspicuously the case in Dr. D. (Vol. i. p.
167) the prince of their fraternity. Without, therefore, stopping to
contend on what all dispassionate men must deem, undebatable ground, I
may assume inspiration as admitted; and, equally so, that it would be
an insult to man's understanding to suppose any other Revelation from
God than the Christian Scriptures. If these Scriptures, impregnable in
their strength; sustained in their pretensions by undeniable
prophecies and miracles; and by the experience of the 'inner man', in
all ages, as well as by a concatenation of arguments, all bearing upon
one point, and extending, with miraculous consistency, through a
series of fifteen hundred years; if all this combined proof does not
establish their validity, nothing can be proved under the sun; but the
world and man must be abandoned, with all its consequences to one
universal scepticism! Under such sanctions, therefore, if these
Scriptures, as a fundamental truth, 'do' inculcate the doctrine of the
'Trinity;' however surpassing human comprehension; then I say, we are
bound to admit it on the strength of 'moral demonstration'.

The supreme Governor of the world, and the Father of our spirits, has
seen fit to disclose to us, much of his will, and the whole of his
natural and moral perfections. In some instances he has given his
'word' only, and demanded our 'faith'; while, on other momentous
subjects, instead of bestowing a full revelation; like the 'Via
Lactea', he has furnished a glimpse only, through either the medium of
inspiration, or by the exercise of those rational faculties with which
he has endowed us. I consider the Trinity as substantially resting on
the first proposition, yet deriving support from the last.

I recollect when I stood on the summit of Etna, and darted my gaze
down the crater; the immediate vicinity was discernible, till, lower
down, obscurity gradually terminated in total darkness. Such figures
exemplify many truths revealed in the Bible. We pursue them, until,
from the imperfection of our faculties, we are lost in impenetrable
night. All truths, however, that are essential to faith, 'honestly'
interpreted; all that are important to human conduct, under every
diversity of circumstance, are manifest as a blazing star. The
promises also of felicity to the righteous, in the future world,
though the precise nature of that felicity may not be defined, are
illustrated by every image that can swell the imagination: while the
misery of the 'lost', in its unutterable intensity, though the
language that describes it is all necessarily figurative, is there
exhibited as resulting chiefly, if not wholly, from the withdrawment
of the 'light of God's countenance', and a banishment from his
'presence!'--best comprehended in this world, by reflecting on the
desolations which would instantly follow the loss of the sun's
vivifying and universally diffused 'warmth'.

You, or rather 'all', should remember, that some truths, from their
nature, surpass the scope of man's limited powers, and stand as the
criteria of 'faith', determining, by their rejection, or admission,
who among the sons of men can confide in the veracity of heaven. Those
more ethereal truths, of which the Trinity is conspicuously the chief,
without being circumstantially explained, may be faintly illustrated
by material objects.--The eye of man cannot discern the satellites of
Jupiter, nor become sensible of the multitudinous stars, the rays of
which have never reached our planet, and, consequently, garnish not
the canopy of night; yet, are they the less 'real', because their
existence lies beyond man's unassisted gaze? The tube of the
philosopher, and the 'celestial telescope',--the unclouded visions of
heaven, will confirm the one class of truths, and irradiate the other.

The 'Trinity' is a subject on which analogical reasoning may
advantageously be admitted, as furnishing, at least, a glimpse of
light, and with this, for the present, we must be satisfied. Infinite
Wisdom deemed clearer manifestations inexpedient; and is man to
dictate to his Maker? I may further remark, that where we cannot
behold a desirable object distinctly, we must take the best view we
can; and I think you, and every candid and inquiring mind, may derive
assistance from such reflections as the following.

Notwithstanding the arguments of Spinosa, and Descartes, and other
advocates of the 'Material system', (or, in more appropriate language,
the 'Atheistical system!') it is admitted by all men not prejudiced,
not biassed by sceptical prepossessions, that 'mind' is distinct from
'matter'. The mind of man, however, is involved in inscrutable
darkness, (as the profoundest metaphysicians well know) and is to be
estimated, (if at all) alone, by an inductive process; that is, by its
'effects'. Without entering on the question, whether an extremely
circumscribed portion of the mental process, surpassing instinct, may,
or may not, be extended to quadrupeds, it is universally acknowledged,
that the mind of man, alone, regulates all the voluntary actions of
his corporeal frame. Mind, therefore, may be regarded as a distinct
genus, in the scale ascending above brutes, and including the whole of
intellectual existences; advancing from 'thought', (that mysterious
thing!) in its lowest form, through all the gradations of sentient and
rational beings, till it arrives at a Bacon, a Newton, and then, when
unincumbered by matter, extending its illimitable sway through Seraph
and Archangel, till we are lost in the GREAT INFINITE!

Is it not deserving of notice, as an especial subject of meditation,
that our 'limbs', in all they do, or can accomplish, implicitly obey
the dictation of the 'mind'? that this operating power, whatever its
name, under certain limitations, exercises a sovereign dominion, not
only over our limbs, but over all our intellectual pursuits? The mind
of every man is evidently the moving force, which alike regulates all
his limbs and actions; and in which example, we find a strong
illustration of the subordinate nature of mere 'matter'. That alone
which gives direction to the organic parts of our nature, is wholly
'mind'; and one mind, if placed over a thousand limbs, could, with
undiminished ease, control and regulate the whole.

This idea is advanced on the supposition, that 'one mind' could
command an unlimited direction over any given number of 'limbs',
provided they were all connected by 'joint' and 'sinew'. But suppose,
through some occult and inconceivable means, these limbs were
dis-associated, as to all material connexion; suppose, for instance,
one mind, with unlimited authority, governed the operations of 'two'
separate persons, would not this, substantially, be only 'one person',
seeing the directing principle was one? If the truth, here contended
for, be admitted, that 'two persons', governed by 'one mind', is
incontestably 'one person'; the same conclusion would be arrived at,
and the proposition equally be justified, which affirmed that,
'three', or, otherwise, 'four' persons, owning also necessary and
essential subjection to 'one mind', would only be so many diversities,
or modifications of that 'one mind', and therefore the component
parts, virtually collapsing into 'one whole', the person would be
'one'. Let any man ask himself, whose understanding can both reason,
and become the depository of truth, whether, if 'one mind' thus
regulated, with absolute authority, 'three', or, otherwise, 'four'
persons, with all their congeries of material parts, would not these
parts, inert in themselves, when subjected to one predominant mind,
be, in the most logical sense, 'one person'? Are ligament and exterior
combination indispensable pre-requisites to the sovereign influence of
mind over mind? or mind over matter? [16]

But perhaps it may be said, we have no instance of one mind governing
more than one body. This may be, but the argument remains the same.
With a proud spirit, that forgets its own contracted range of thought,
and circumscribed knowledge, who is to limit the sway of Omnipotence?
or, presumptuously to deny the possibility of 'that' Being, who called
light out of darkness, so to exalt the dominion of 'one mind', as to
give it absolute sway over other dependent minds, or (indifferently)
over detached, or combined portions of organized matter? But if this
superinduced quality be conferable on any order of created beings, it
is blasphemy to limit the power of GOD, and to deny 'his' capacity to
transfuse 'his own' Spirit, when, and to whom he will.

This reasoning may now be applied in illustration of the Trinity. We
are too much in the habit of viewing our Saviour Jesus Christ, through
the medium of his body. 'A body was prepared for him,' but this body
was mere matter; as insensible in itself, as every human frame when
deserted by the soul. If therefore the Spirit that was in Christ, was
the Spirit of the Father: if no thought, no vibration, no spiritual
communication, or miraculous display, existed in, or proceeded from
Christ, not immediately and consubstantially identified with JEHOVAH,
the Great First cause; if all these operating principles were thus
derived, in consistency alone with the conjoint divine attributes; of
this Spirit of the Father ruled and reigned in Christ as his own
manifestation, then, in the strictest sense, Christ exhibited 'the
God-head bodily,' and was undeniably ''one' with the Father;'
confirmatory of the Saviour's words; 'Of myself,' (my body) 'I can do
nothing, the Father that dwelleth in me, he doeth the works.'

But though I speak of the body, as inert in itself, and necessarily
allied to matter, yet this declaration must not be understood as
militating against the Christian doctrine of the 'resurrection of the
body'. In its grosser form, the thought is not to be admitted, for,
'flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God,' but, that the
body, without losing its consciousness, and individuality, may be
subjected, by the illimitable power of Omnipotence, to a sublimating
process, so as to be rendered compatible with spiritual association,
is not opposed to reason, in its severe abstract exercises, while in
attestation of this 'exhilarating belief', there are many remote
analogies in nature exemplifying the same truth, while it is in the
strictest accordance with that final dispensation, which must, as
Christians, regulate all our speculations. I proceed now to say, that:

If the postulate be thus admitted, that one mind influencing two
bodies, would only involve a diversity of operations, but in reality
be one in essence; or otherwise, (as an hypothetical argument,
illustrative of truth) if one preeminent mind, or spiritual
subsistence, unconnected with matter, possessed an undivided and
sovereign dominion over two or more disembodied minds, so as to become
the exclusive source of all their subtlest volitions and exercises,
the 'unity', however complex the modus of its manifestation, would be
fully established; and this principle extends to DEITY itself, and
shows the true sense, as I conceive, in which Christ and the Father
are one.

In continuation of this reasoning, if God who is light, the Sun of the
Moral World, should in his union of Infinite Wisdom, Power, and
Goodness, and from all Eternity, have ordained that an emanation from
himself (for aught we know, an essential emanation, as light is
inseparable from the luminary of day) should not only have existed in
his Son, in the fulness of time to be united to a mortal body, but
that a like emanation from himself (also perhaps essential) should
have constituted the Holy Spirit, who, without losing his ubiquity,
was more especially sent to this lower earth, 'by' the SON, 'at' the
impulse of the Father, then, in the most comprehensive sense, God, and
his Son, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost, are ONE. 'Three Persons in
one God,' and thus form the true Trinity in Unity.

To suppose that more than ONE Independent Power, or Governing mind
exists in the whole universe, is absolute Polytheism, against which
the denunciations of all the Jewish, and Christian Canonical books
were directed. And if there be but ONE directing MIND, that Mind is
GOD!--operating, however, in Three Persons, according to the direct
and uniform declarations of that inspiration which 'brought life and
immortality to light.' Yet this divine doctrine of the Trinity is to
be received, not because it is, or can be clear to finite
apprehension, but, (in reiteration of the argument) because the
Scriptures, in their unsophisticated interpretation expressly state
it. The Trinity, therefore, from its important aspects, and Biblical
prominence, is the grand article of faith, and the foundation of the
whole Christian system.

Who can say, as Christ [17] and the Holy Ghost proceeded from, and are
still one with the Father, and as all the disciples of Christ derive
their fulness from him, and, in spirit, are inviolately united to him
as a branch is to the vine, who can say, but that, in one view, what
was once mysteriously separated, may, as mysteriously, be recombined,
and, (without interfering with the everlasting Trinity, and the
individuality of the spiritual and seraphic orders) the Son, at the
consummation of all things, deliver up his mediatorial kingdom to the
Father, and God, in some peculiar, and infinitely sublime sense,
become All 'in' All!

God love you,

S.T. COLERIDGE." [18]

Those who are acquainted with Mr. Coleridge's maturer view of the doctrine of the Trinity, will not need to be informed that this letter does not convey his later conviction in regard to this awful mystery, and will know that his philosophic meditations rested essentially in the same faith that dictated the Article of the Church of England on this subject.

Mr. De Quincey has made several mistatements in a memoir on Mr. Coleridge, which he wrote in Tait's Magazine; but it may be only fair first to quote a few interesting remarks, with which he begins:

"In the summer season of 1807 I first saw this illustrious man, the
largest and most spacious intellect in my judgment that has ever yet
existed amongst men. My knowledge of his works as a most original
genius began about the year 1799."

A little before that time, Wordsworth published the "Lyrical Ballads," in which was the Ancient Mariner of Coleridge, and to which Mr. De Quincey attributes the unfolding of his own mind; this confession is by no means humiliating, for many persons of the highest reputation have made similar acknowledgments, and some there are still living who have the courage and integrity to do so now.

"I found (says this gentleman) that Professor Wilson, as well as
myself, saw in these poems 'the ray of a new morning;'--and to these
names may be added that of the celebrated Sir Walter Scott."

The admiration of Mr. De Quincey was so great that inquiring where Coleridge was to be found, and learning that he was in Malta, he contemplated an immediate visit to that island, but the fear of a French prison reconciled him to remaining in England. When on a visit in 1807 (to a relation), at the Hot Wells, he learnt that Coleridge was staying with a friend not far from Bristol. This friend was Mr. Poole of Nether Stowey, and thither he bent his steps. In this house Mr. De Quincey spent two days, and gives, from his own knowledge, a sketch of Mr. Poole's person and character very descriptive of the original. Coleridge often remarked that he was the best "ideal for a useful member of parliament he ever knew;"

"a plain dressed man leading a bachelor life," as Mr. De Quincey
observes, "in a rustic old fashioned house, amply furnished with
modern luxuries, and a good library. Mr. Poole had travelled
extensively, and had so entirely dedicated himself to his humble
fellow countrymen, who resided in his neighbourhood, that for many
miles round he was the general arbiter of their disputes, the guide
and counsellor of their daily life; besides being appointed executor
and guardian to his children by every third man who died in or about
the town of Nether Stowey."

Such in few words was the individual whom Coleridge, in his social hours and in the full warmth of friendship, would most eloquently and feelingly describe. [19]

Mr. De Quincey having been informed that Coleridge was at Bridgewater, left Nether Stowey for that place, in search of him. The meeting and the description recall him forcibly to the minds of those who twenty years after were so intimately acquainted with him:

"In Bridgewater I noticed a gateway, standing under which was a man
corresponding to the description given me of Coleridge whom I shall
presently describe. In height he seemed to be five feet eight inches,
(he was in reality about an inch and a half taller,) though in the
latter part of life, from a lateral curvature in the spine, he
shortened gradually from two to three inches. His person was broad and
full, and tended even to corpulence; his complexion was fair, though
not what painters technically style fair, because it was associated
with black hair; his eyes were large and soft in their expression, and
it was by the peculiar appearance of haze or dreaminess which mixed
with their light that I recognized my object. This was Coleridge; I
examined him steadily for a moment or more, and it struck me he
neither saw myself, nor any other object in the street. He was in a
deep reverie; for I had dismounted, made two or three trifling
arrangements at the inn door, and advanced close to him, before he
seemed apparently conscious of my presence. The sound of my voice
announcing my name first awoke him; he started, and for a moment
seemed at a loss to understand my purpose, or his own situation, for
he repeated rapidly a number of words which had no relation to either
of us; very likely trying a metre, or making verse, a frequent
practice of his, and of Mr. Wordsworth's. There was no mauvaise haute
in his manner, but simple perplexity, and an apparent difficulty in
recovering his position amongst daylight realities. This little scene
over, he received me with a kindness of manner so marked, that it
might be called gracious. The hospitable family, with whom he was
domesticated, were distinguished for their amiable manners, and
enlightened understandings; they were descendants from Chubb, the
philosophic writer, and bore the same name. For Coleridge they all
testified deep affection and esteem, sentiments which the whole town
of Bridgewater seemed to share, for in the evening, when the heat of
the day had declined, I walked out with him; and rarely, perhaps
never, have I seen a person so much interrupted in one hour's space as
Coleridge on this occasion, by the courteous attentions of young and
old." [20]

This appears so faithful a portraiture of Coleridge that it is impossible to read it without once more beholding him as in a mirror. Continuing his description, he speaks again of his extreme courtesy, and of his easy and gentlemanly manner of receiving strangers. A friend of mine seldom speaks of the past in connexion with Coleridge's name, but he reminds me of a visit he once made to me during my absence at the sea shore, and of the courteous grace he displayed in doing the honours of the house.

In every thing wherein the comfort or happiness of others were concerned, Coleridge ever evinced how entirely he could devote himself to those he loved or who might require his sympathy:

His own fair countenance, his kingly forehead,
His tender smiles, love's day-dawn on his lips--
The sense, the spirit, and the light divine,
At the same moment in his steadfast eye
Were virtue's native crest, the innocent soul's
Unconscious meek self-heraldry--to man
Genial, and pleasant to his guardian angel!
He suffered, nor complained; though oft with tears
He mourned the oppression of his helpless brethren;
Yea with a deeper and yet holier grief
Mourned for th' oppressor; but this
In sabbath hours--a solemn grief,
Most like a cloud at sunset,
Was but the veil of purest meditation,
Pierced through and saturate with the intellectual rays
It softened.

'Literary Remains', vol. i. 277.

These were characteristic beauties, that shone forth in Coleridge, and were deeply felt by all who were attached to him.

With regard to the charge made by Mr. De Quincey, of Coleridge's so borrowing the property of other writers as to be guilty of 'petty larceny'; with equal justice might we accuse the bee which flies from flower to flower in quest of food, and which, by means of the instinct bestowed upon it by the all-wise Creator, extracts its nourishment from the field and the garden, but 'digests' and 'elaborates' it by its own 'native' powers.

Coleridge 'began' the use of opium from bodily pain (rheumatism), and for the same reason 'continued' it, till he had acquired a habit too difficult under his own management to control. To him it was the thorn in the flesh, which will be seen in the following notes

"I have never loved evil for its own sake: no! nor ever sought
pleasure for its own sake, but only as the means of escaping from
pains that coiled around my mental powers, as a serpent around the
body and wings of an eagle! My sole sensuality was 'not' to be in
pain."

'Note from Pocket Book, "The History of my own mind for my own
improvement," Dec. 23, 1804.'