By Richard Holmes
Richard Holmes's Coleridge: Early Visions gained the 1989 Whitbread e-book of the 12 months Prize. Coleridge: Darker Reflections, the long-awaited moment quantity, chronicles the final thirty years of his occupation (1804-1834), a interval of family turmoil. His marriage foundered, his opium habit elevated, he quarreled bitterly with Wordsworth, and his son, Hartley (a talented poet himself), turned an alcoholic. yet after a determined time of transition, Coleridge reemerged as a brand new type of philosophical and meditative writer, a very good and bold poet, and a lecturer of genius.
Holmes strains the advance of Coleridge right into a legend one of the more youthful new release of Romantic writers--the "hooded eagle among blinking owls"--and the impact he had on Hazlitt, De Quincey, Byron, Shelley, Keats, Walter Scott, Carlyle, and J. S. Mill, between others. And he rediscovers Coleridge's strength as a conversationalist and a ceaseless generator of rules. As Charles Lamb famous, "his face whilst he repeats his verses hath its historical glory, an Archangel a bit damaged."
Although Coleridge's later existence was once now not a cheerful one, it truly is always attention-grabbing. As Holmes brings it vividly to lifestyles in those pages, we consider his hopeless heartaches, his moments of elation, his electrifying creativity and boundless power, his unfailing skill to rescue himself from the darkest abyss. the result's a brilliantly lively, fantastically specific, wondrously provocative portrait of a rare artist and a good extra remarkable individual.
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Additional info for Coleridge: Darker Reflections, 1804-1834
Coleridge claimed that his unsatisfied marriage was once the resource of all his problems. “This, this perpetual fight, and unending heart-wasting, used to be on the backside of all my irresolution, procrastination, languor, and previous detestable behavior of poison-taking –: this grew to become me away see you later from political and ethical disquisition, poetry, and all of the plants & herbs that develop within the gentle and Sunshine, to be in the meantime a Delver within the unwholesome quick-silver mines of abstruse Metaphysics…”9 He had stated it prior to, and he might say it back, perpetually, and with nice poetic conviction. definitely he believed now that his marriage had continuously been ill-destined, and it had lengthy been past his powers to reserve it. each divorce attorney knows such retrospective statements. but the strangest declare used to be no longer that his “former” opium behavior was once the manufactured from his marriage; or that his spouse had “turned him away” from a literary profession. Even their mutual neighbors (even Southey) observed they'd lengthy been not able to live to tell the tale efficient, or maybe tranquil phrases. It used to be the declare that metaphysics, which in fact he enjoyed passionately and to which he might commit rather a lot of his later lifestyles, was once by some means shameful and “unwholesome”. For those “quick-silver mines” have been additionally his magic caverns “measureless to man”, the size that gave his poetry and all his writing its precise resonance. Why may still he deny those to Stuart, except they have been inextricably linked in his brain with the guilt and deception of his opium underworld? whereas Coleridge lurked in London, frightened messages beamed out from Grasmere. Dorothy wrote to Mary Lamb, and Wordsworth to Sir George Beaumont. The deliberate autumn circulation to Beaumont’s property at Coleorton used to be in suspense, until eventually Coleridge had selected his “settled rational plan” and this appeared much less and not more imminent. A unmarried sonnet seemed within the pages of the Courier of 27 September, like misery flare. It was once entitled “Farewell to Love”, a gorgeous edition of a bit via Fulke Greville. yet to whom was once it addressed – to which Sara? To Asra or to Mrs Coleridge? (And did it comprise a reproach to Wordsworth in its 7th line? ) Farewell, candy Love! but blame you now not my fact; extra fondly ne’er did mom eye her baby Than I your shape: yours have been my hopes of adlescent, And as you formed my ideas I sighed or smiled. whereas such a lot have been wooing wealth, or gaily swerving To pleasure’s mystery haunts, and a few aside Stood powerful in delight, self-conscious of deserving, To you I gave my complete susceptible wishing center. And whilst I met the maid that realised Your reasonable creations, and had received her kindness, Say, yet for her if aught in the world I prized! Your desires by myself I dreamt, and stuck your blindness. O grief! – yet farewell, Love! i'll move play me With strategies that please me much less, and no more betray me. 10 Wordsworth wrote impatiently to Beaumont: “What shall I say of Coleridge? …he dare no longer pass domestic, he recoils lots from the idea of domesticating with Mrs Coleridge…he is so depressing that he dare now not stumble upon it.