Some of his theological observations are here detailed. He said, he had recently had a long conversation with an Unitarian minister, who declared, that, he could discover nothing in the New Testament which in the least favoured the Divinity of Christ, to which Mr. C. replied that it appeared to him impossible for any man to read the New Testament, with the common exercise of an unbiassed understanding, without being convinced of the Divinity of Christ, from the testimony almost of every page.
He said it was evident that different persons might look at the same object with very opposite feelings. For instance, if Sir Isaac Newton looked at the planet Jupiter, he would view him with his revolving moons, and would be led to the contemplation of his being inhabited, which thought would open a boundless field to his imagination: whilst another person, standing perhaps at the side of the great philosopher, would look at Jupiter with the same set of feelings that he would at a silver sixpence. So some persons were wilfully blind, and did not seek for that change, that preparation of the heart and understanding, which would enable them to see clearly the gospel truth.
He said that Socinians believed no more than St. Paul did before his conversion: for the Pharisees believed in a Supreme Being, and a future state of rewards and punishments. St. Paul thought he ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth. The saints he shut up in prison, having received authority from the High Priest, and when they were put to death, he gave his voice against them. But after his conversion, writing to the Romans, he says, ‘I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God to salvation unto every man that believeth: to the Jew first, and also to the Gentiles.’
He then referred to the dreadful state of the literati in London, as it respects religion, and of their having laughed at him, and believed him to be in jest, when he professed his belief in the Bible.
Having introduced Mr. Davy to Mr. C. some years before, I inquired for him with some anxiety, and expressed a hope that he was not tinctured with the prevailing scepticism since his removal from Bristol to London. Mr. C. assured me that he was not: that his heart and understanding were not the soil for infidelity. I then remarked, “During your stay in London, you doubtless saw a great many of what are called ‘the cleverest men,’ how do you estimate Davy, in comparison with these?” Mr. Coleridge’s reply was strong, but expressive. “Why, Davy could eat them all! There is an energy, an elasticity in his mind, which enables him to seize on, and analyze, all questions, pushing them to their legitimate consequences. Every subject in Davy’s mind has the principle of vitality. Living thoughts spring up like the turf under his feet.” With equal justice, Mr. Davy entertained the same exalted opinion of Mr. Coleridge.
Mr. C. now changed the subject, and spoke of Holcroft; who he said was a man of but small powers, with superficial, rather than solid talents, and possessing principles of the most horrible description; a man who at the very moment he denied the existence of a Deity, in his heart believed and trembled. He said that Holcroft, and other Atheists, reasoned with so much fierceness and vehemence against a God, that it plainly showed they were inwardly conscious there was a GOD to reason against; for, a nonentity would never excite passion.
He said that in one of his visits to London, he accidentally met Holcroft in a public office without knowing his name, when he began, stranger as he was, the enforcement of some of his diabolical sentiments! which, it appears, he was in the habit of doing, at all seasons, and in all companies; by which he often corrupted the principles of those simple persons who listened to his shallow, and worn-out impieties. Mr. C. declared himself to have felt indignant at conduct so infamous, and at once closed with the “prating atheist,” when they had a sharp encounter. Holcroft then abruptly addressed him, “I perceive you have mind, and know what you are talking about. It will be worth while to make a convert of you. I am engaged at present, but if you vrill call on me to-morrow morning, giving him his card, I will engage, in half an hour, to convince you there is no God!”
Mr. Coleridge called on him the next morning, when the discussion was renewed, but none being present except the disputants, no account is preserved of this important conversation; but Mr. C. affirmed that he beat all his arguments to atoms; a result that none who knew him could doubt. He also stated that instead of his being converted to atheism, the atheist himself, after his manner, was converted; for the same day he sent Mr. C. a letter, saying his reasoning was so clear and satisfactory, that he had changed his views and was now “a theist.” The next sun probably beheld him an atheist again; but whether he called himself this or that, his character was the same.
Soon after the foregoing incident, Mr. Coleridge said, he found himself in a large party, at the house of a man of letters, amongst whom to his surprise, he saw Mr. and Mrs. Holcroft, when, to incite to a renewal of their late dispute, and before witnesses, (in the full consciousness of strength) Mr. C. enforced the propriety of teaching children, as soon as they could articulate, to lisp the praises of their Maker; “for,” said he, “though they can, form no correct idea of God, yet they entertain a high opinion of their father, and it is an easy introduction to the truth, to tell them that their Heavenly Father is stronger, and wiser, and better, than their earthly father.”
The whole company looked at Mr. Holcroft, implying that now was the time for him to meet a competent opponent, and justify sentiments which he had so often triumphantly advanced. They looked in vain. He maintained, to their surprise, a total silence, well remembering the severe castigation he had so recently received. But a very different effect was produced on Mrs. Holcroft. She indignantly heard, and giving vent to her passion and her tears, said, she was quite surprised at Mr. Coleridge talking in that way before her, when he knew that both herself and Mr. Holcroft were atheists!
Mr. C. spoke of the unutterable horror he felt, when Holcroft’s son, a boy eight years of age, came up to him and said, “There is no God!” So that these wretched parents, alike father and mother, were as earnest in inculcating atheism on their children, as christian parents are in inspiring their offspring with respect for religious truth.
Actions are often the best illustration of principles. Mr. Coleridge also stated the following circumstance, notorious at the time, as an evidence of the disastrous effects of atheism. Holcroft’s tyrannical conduct toward his children was proverbial. An elder son, with a mind embued with his father’s sentiments, from extreme severity of treatment, had run away from his paternal roof, and entered on board a ship. Holcroft pursued his son, and when the fugitive youth saw his father in a boat, rowing toward the vessel, rather than endure his frown and his chastisement, he seized a pistol, and blew his brains out!
An easy transition having been made to the Bible, Mr. C. spoke of our Saviour with an utterance so sublime and reverential, that none could have heard him without experiencing an accession of love, gratitude, and adorations to the Great Author of our salvation. He referred to the Divinity of Christ, as a truth, incontestable to all who admitted the inspiration, and consequent authority of Scripture. He particularly alluded to the 6th of John, v. 15. “When Jesus perceived that they would come and take him by force to make him a king, he departed again into a mountain ‘alone.’” He said it characterized the low views, and worldly-mindedness of the Jews, that, after they had seen the miracles of Jesus Christ, and heard his heavenly doctrine, and had been told that his kingdom was not of this world, they should think of conferring additional honour on him, by making him their King! He departed from these little views and scenes, by night, to a neighbouring mountain, and there, in the spirit of prescience, meditated on his approaching crucifixion; on that attendant guilt, which would bring on the Jews, wrath to the uttermost, and terminate their impieties, by one million of their race being swept from the face of the earth.
Mr. C. noticed Doddridge’s works with great respect, particularly his “Rise and Progress of Religion.” He thought favourably of Lord Rochester’s conversion as narrated by Burnet
; spoke of Jeremy Taylor in exalted terms, and thought the compass of his mind discovered itself in none of his works more than in his “Life of Christ,” extremely miscellaneous as it was. He also expressed the strongest commendation of Archbishop Leighton, whose talents were of the loftiest description, and which were, at the same time, eminently combined with humility. He thought Bishop Burnet’s high character of Leighton justly deserved, and that his whole conduct and spirit were more conformed to his Divine Master, than almost any man on record.
I now proceed to say, it was with extreme reluctance that the Unitarians in Bristol resigned their champion, especially as other defections had recently occurred in their community, and that among the more intellectual portion of their friends. Although the expectation might be extravagant, they still cherished the hope, however languid, that Mr. C. after some oscillations, would once more bestow on them his suffrage; but an occurrence took place, which dissipated the last vestige of this hope, and formed between them a permanent wall of separation.
Mr. Coleridge was lecturing in Bristol, surrounded by a numerous audience, when, in referring to the “Paradise Regained,” he said that Milton had clearly represented Satan, as a “sceptical Socinian.” This was regarded as a direct and undisguised declaration of war. It so happened that indisposition prevented me from attending that lecture, but I received from Mr. C. directly after, a letter, in which he thus writes:
“… Mr. —— I find is raising the city against me, as far as he and his friends can, for having stated a mere matter of fact; viz. that Milton had represented Satan as a sceptical Socinian; which is the case; and I could not have explained the excellence of the sublimest single passage in all his writings, had I not previously informed the audience, that Milton had represented Satan, as knowing the Prophetic and Messianic character of Christ, but was sceptical as to any higher claims. And what other definition could Mr. —— himself give of a sceptical Socinian? (with this difference indeed, that Satan’s faith somewhat exceeded that of Socinians.) Now that Satan has done so, will you consult ‘Paradise Regained,’ Book IV. from line 196, and the same Book, from line 500.”
It is of consequence that Mr. Coleridge’s later sentiments on the subject of Socinianism should be given; but as I had no opportunity of ascertaining what those sentiments were, it was satisfactory to learn from the testimony of Mr. C.’s “Table Talk,” that his last and maturest opinions were, to the fullest, confirmatory of those expressed by him in these pages.
The following letter was written by Mr. Coleridge, to Mr. George Fricker, his brother-in-law; it is believed in 1807. Mr. F. died 1828; pious and respected.
“Saturday afternoon.
My dear young friend,
I am sorry that you should have felt any delicacy in disclosing to me your religious feelings, as rendering it inconsistent with your tranquillity of mind to spend the Sunday evening with me. Though I do not find in that book, which we both equally revere, any command, either express, or which I can infer, which leads me to attach any criminality to cheerful and innocent social intercourse on the Lord’s day; though I do not find that it was in the least degree forbidden to the Jews on their Sabbath; and though I have been taught by Luther, and the great founders of the Church of England, that the Sabbath was a part of the ceremonial and transitory parts of the law given by heaven to Moses; and that our Sunday is binding on our consciences, chiefly from its manifest and most awful usefulness, and indeed moral necessity; yet I highly commend your firmness in what you think right, and assure you solemnly, that I esteem you greatly for it. I would much rather that you should have too much, than an atom too little. I am far from surprised that, having seen what you have seen, and suffered what you have suffered, you should have opened your soul to a sense of our fallen nature; and the incapability of man to heal himself. My opinions may not be in all points the same as yours; but I have experienced a similar alteration. I was for many years a Socinian; and at times almost a Naturalist, but sorrow, and ill health, and disappointment in the only deep wish I had ever cherished, forced me to look into myself; I read the New Testament again, and I became fully convinced, that Socinianism was not only not the doctrine of the New Testament, but that it scarcely deserved the name of a religion in any sense. An extract from a letter which I wrote a few months ago to a sceptical friend, who had been a Socinian, and of course rested all the evidences of christianity on miracles, to the exclusion of grace and inward faith, will perhaps, surprise you, as showing you how much nearer our opinions are than what you must have supposed. ‘I fear that the mode of defending christianity, adopted by Grotius first; and latterly, among many others, by Dr. Paley, has increased the number of infidels; — never could it have been so great, if thinking men had been habitually led to look into their own souls, instead of always looking out, both of themselves, and of their nature. If to curb attack, such as yours on miracles, it had been answered:—”Well, brother! but granting these miracles to have been in part the growth of delusion at the time, and of exaggeration afterward, yet still all the doctrines will remain untouched by this circumstance, and binding on thee. Still mast thou repent and be regenerated, and be crucified to the flesh; and this not by thy own mere power; but by a mysterious action of the moral Governor on thee; of the Ordo-ordinians, the Logos, or Word. Still will the eternal filiation, or Sonship of the Word from the Father; still will the Trinity of the Deity, the redemption, and the thereto necessary assumption of humanity by the Word, ‘who is with God, and is God,’ remain truths: and still will the vital head-and-heart FAITH in these truths, be the living and only fountain of all true virtue. Believe all these, and with the grace of the spirit consult your own heart, in quietness and humility, they will furnish you with proofs, that surpass all understanding, because they are felt and known; believe all these I say, so as that thy faith shall be not merely real in the acquiescence of the intellect; but actual, in the thereto assimilated affections; then shalt thou KNOW from God, whether or not Christ be of God. But take notice, I only say, the miracles are extra essential; I by no means deny their importance, much less hold them useless, or superfluous. Even as Christ did, so would I teach; that is, build the miracle on the faith, not the faith on the miracle.”
May heaven bless you, my dear George, and
Your affectionate friend,
S. T. C.”
In the intervening time, between the receipt of Mr. C.’s last letter, and his calling on me, I received a note from a lady, an old friend, begging permission to introduce to me, a clever young man of her acquaintance, whom she even so honoured as to call “A little John Henderson;” concerning whom, this young man wished to make inquiries. An invitation immediately followed, and the lady introduced to me, young Mr. De Quincey. Several interviews followed, each exhibiting his talents in a more favourable view, till I was satisfied he would either shine in literature, or, with steady perseverance, acquire eminence in either of the professions.
He made many inquiries respecting John Henderson, of whose learning, and surprising attainments, he had heard much. After conversing long on this subject, Mr. De Q. asked me if I knew any thing of Mr. Coleridge’s pecuniary affairs. I replied, “I am afraid he is a legitimate son of genius.” He asked if I thought he would accept a hundred or two pounds. I answered, I could not tell, but that I expected shortly to see him, when, if he seriously desired to learn, I would ascertain what the state of his finances was, and let him know. This he said, was his particular wish.
When Mr. Coleridge called on me, and the extended conversation had occurred, before stated, I asked him concerning his circumstances. He confessed that he had some present difficulties, which oppressed his mind. He said that all the money he had received from his office in Malta, as secretary to Sir Alexander Ball, had been expended in Italy, and on his way home. I then told him, that a young man of fortune, who admired his talents, had inquired of me, if I thought he would accept the present of a hundred or two pounds, “and I now ask you,” said I, �
�that question, that I may return an answer.” Mr. Coleridge rose from his seat. He appeared much oppressed, and agitated, and, after a short silence, he turned to me, and said. “Cottle I will write to you. We will change the subject.” The next day I received from Mr. C. the following letter.
“My dear Cottle,
Independent of letter-writing, and a dinner engagement with C. Danvers, I was the whole of yesterday till evening, in a most wretched restlessness of body and limbs, having imprudently discontinued some medicines, which are now my anchor of hope. This morning I dedicate to certain distant calls on Dr. Beddoes and Colston, at Clifton, not so much for the calls themselves, as for the necessity of taking brisk exercise.
But no unforeseen accident intervening, I shall spend the evening with you from seven o’clock.
I will now express my sentiments on the important subject communicated to you. I need not say it has been the cause of serious meditation. Undoubtedly, calamities have so thickened on me for the last two years, that the pecuniary pressures of the moment, are the only serious obstacles at present to my completion of those works, which, if completed, would make me easy. Besides these, I have reason for belief that a Tragedy of mine will be brought on the stage this season, the result of which is of course only one of the possibilities of life, on which I am not fool enough to calculate.
Finally therefore, if you know that any unknown benefactor is in such circumstances, that, in doing what he offers to do, he transgresses no duty of morals, or of moral prudence, and does not do that from feeling, which after reflection might perhaps discountenance, I shall gratefully accept it, as an unconditional loan, which I trust I shall be able to restore at the close of two years. This however, I shall be able to know at the expiration of one year, and shall then beg to know the name of my benefactor, which I should then only feel delight in knowing, when I could present to him some substantial proof, that I have employed the tranquillity of mind, which his kindness has enabled me to enjoy, in sincere desires to benefit my fellow men. May God bless you.
Complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey Page 340