201 |
The intimacy with Shelley, which also was not of Godwin’s seeking, was destined to have a far more abiding influence on the lives of both. The first notice of Shelley in the Godwin Diaries is under date Jan. 6, 1811. “Write to Shelly.” It is the only time his name is so spelt, his letter was in answer to Shelley’s first letter, in which he introduced himself, and was written at once, when he was not quite clear about the name of his correspondent.
Shelley was at this time living at Keswick, in the earlier and happier days of his marriage with Harriet Westbrook, and his eager and restless spirit prompted him to form the acquaintance, by letter, with others whom he believed to be like himself enthusiasts in the cause of humanity, of liberty, and progress. He had already, in this manner, made the acquaintance of Leigh Hunt, when, in January 1811, he wrote thus to Godwin:—
“——You will be surprised at hearing from a stranger. No introduction has, nor in all probability ever will, authorize that which common thinkers would call a liberty. It is, however, a liberty which, although not sanctioned by. custom, is so far from being reprobated by reason, that the dearest interests of mankind imperiously demand that a certain etiquette of fashion should no
202 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
SHELLEY IN IRELAND. | 203 |
The answer to this is lost, but it appears from the diary that the correspondence was frequent. From Keswick Shelley went to Dublin, and devoted himself to the cause of Irish Patriotism, with his usual chivalry, and perhaps even less than his usual discretion. Godwin did all that he could, not by any means to change Shelley’s principles, but to inculcate prudence and discretion in the mode of carrying them out. The following letters serve well to show their writer’s political standpoint, though it may be doubted if they had much effect on the vehement young dreamer to whom they were addressed. In fact, very shortly after the last was written, Shelley had made Ireland too hot to hold him, for venturing to suggest that even Protestants were entitled to toleration. The police warned him that he had better quit the country, and after a while he settled for a time his wandering household at Lynmouth, in North Devon.
“My good Friend,—I have read all your letters (the first perhaps excepted) with peculiar interest, and I wish it to be understood by you unequivocally that, as far as I can yet penetrate into your character, I conceive it to exhibit an extraordinary assemblage of lovely qualities not without considerable defects. The defects do, and always have arisen chiefly from this source, that you are still very young, and that in certain essential respects you do not sufficiently perceive that you are so.
“In your last letter you say, ‘I publish because I will publish
204 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“Oh, my friend, how short-sighted are the views that dictated this sentence! Every man, in every deliberate action of his life, imagines he sees a preponderance of good likely to result. This is the law of our nature, from which none of us can escape. You do not in this point generically differ from the human beings about you. Mr Burke and Tom Paine, when they wrote on the French Revolution, perhaps equally believed that the sentiments they supported were essentially conducive to the welfare of man. When Mr Walsh resolved to purloin to his own use a few thousand pounds, with which to settle himself and his family and children in America, he tells us that he was for some time anxious that the effects of his fraud should fall upon Mr. Oldham rather than upon Sir Thomas Plumer, because, in his opinion, Sir Thomas was the better man. And I have no doubt that he was fully persuaded that a greater sum of happiness would result from these thousand pounds being employed in settling his innocent and lovely family in America, than in securing to his employer the possession of a large landed estate. . . .
“In the pamphlet you have just sent me, your views and mine as to the improvement of mankind are decisively at issue. You profess the immediate objects of your efforts to be ‘the organization of a society whose institution shall serve as a bond to its members.’ If I may be allowed to understand my book on Political Justice, it’s pervading principle is, that association is a most ill-chosen and ill-qualified mode of endeavouring to promote the political happiness of mankind. And I think of your pamphlet, however commendable and lovely are many of its sentiments, that it will either be ineffective to its immediate object, or that it has no very remote tendency to light again the flames of rebellion and war. . . . .
“Discussion, reading, enquiry, perpetual communication: these are my favourite methods for the improvement of mankind, but associations, organized societies, I firmly condemn. You may as well tell the adder not to sting:
LETTERS TO SHELLEY. | 205 |
‘You may as well use question with the wolf: You may as well forbid the mountain pines To wag their high tops, and to make no noise When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven,’ |
“Discussion and conversation on the best interests of society are excellent as long as they are unfettered, and each man talks to his neighbour in the freedom of congenial intercourse as he happens to meet with him in the customary haunts of men, or in the quiet and beneficent intercourse of each other’s fireside. But they become unwholesome and poisonous when men shape themselves into societies, and become distorted with the artifices of organization. It will not then long be possible to reason calmly and dispassionately: men will heat each other into impatience and indignation against their oppressors; they will become tired of talking for ever, and will be in a hurry to act. If this view of things is true, applied to any country whatever, it is peculiarly and fearfully so when applied to the fervent and impetuous character of the Irish. . . . .
“One principle that I believe is wanting in you, and in all our too fervent and impetuous reformers, is the thought that almost every institution and form of society is good in its place and in the period of time to which it belongs. How many beautiful and admirable effects grew out of Popery and the monastic institutions
206 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“You say that you count but on a short life. In that too you are erroneous. I shall not live to see you fourscore, but it is not improbable that my son will. I was myself in early life of a remarkably puny constitution. Pope, who was at all times kept alive only by art, reached his fifty-seventh year. The constitution of man is a theatre of change, and I think it not improbable that at thirty or forty you will be a robust man. . . . .
“To descend from great things to small, I can perceive that you are already infected with the air of the country [Ireland]. Your letter with its enclosures cost me by post 1s. 8d., and you say in it that you ‘send it in this way to save expense.’ The post always charges parcels that exceed a sheet or two by weight, and they should therefore always be forwarded by some other conveyance. . . . .
“I take up the pen again immediately on the receipt of yours, because I am desirous of making one more effort to save yourself
LETTERS TO SHELLEY. | 207 |
“You say, ‘What has been done within these last twenty years?’ Oh, that I could place you upon the pinnacle of ages, from which these twenty years would shrink to an invisible point! It is not after this fashion that moral causes work in the eye of him who looks profoundly through the vast and—allow me to add—venerable machine of human society. But so reasoned the French Revolutionists. Auspicious and admirable materials were working in the general mind of France; but these men said, as you say, ‘When we look on the last twenty years, we are seized with a sort of moral scepticism; we must own we are eager that something should be done.’ And see what has been the result of their doings. He that would benefit mankind on a comprehensive scale, by changing the principles and elements of society, must learn the hard lesson, to put off self, and to contribute by a quiet but incessant activity, like a rill of water, to irrigate and fertilise the intellectual evil. . . .
“I wish to my heart you would come immediately to London. I have a friend who has contrived a tube to convey passengers sixty miles an hour: be youth your tube. I have a thousand things I could say, really more than I could say in a letter on this important subject. You cannot imagine how much all the females of my family, Mrs Godwin and three daughters, are interested in your letters and your history.”
“I received your last letter on the 24th inst., and the perusal of it gave me a high degree of pleasure. . . . I can now look upon you as a friend. Before, I knew not what might happen. It was
208 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“You say, ‘I will look to events in which it will be impossible I can share, and make myself the cause of an effect which will take place ages after I shall have mouldered into dust.’ In saying this you run from one extreme to another. I have often had occasion to apply a principle on the subject of education, which is equally applicable here—‘Be not easily discouraged; sow the seed, and after a season, and when you least look for it, it will germinate and produce a crop.’ I have again and again been hopeless concerning the children with whom I have voluntarily, or by the laws of society, been concerned. Seeds of intellect and knowledge, seeds of moral judgment and conduct, I have sown; but the soil for a long while seemed ungrateful to the tiller’s care. It was not so; the happiest operations were going on quietly and unobserved, and at the moment when it was of the most importance, they unfolded themselves to the delight of every beholder.
“These instances of surprise are owing solely to the bluntness of our senses. You find little difference between the men of these islands of Europe now and twenty years ago. If you looked more into these things you would perceive that the alteration is immense. The human race has made larger strides to escape from a state of childhood in these twenty years than perhaps in any hundred years preceding. . . .
JOURNAL OF TOUR. | 209 |
When arranging his usual short summer excursion in 1812, Godwin determined to combine this with a visit to the Shelleys. They had asked him to visit them, but no time had been fixed for his arrival; indeed the invitation had not been pressed when Godwin first thought of making his tour westward, for the Shelleys feared they could scarcely make him quite comfortable in the limited accommodation they could offer him. But on his arrival at Lynmouth, the Shelleys were gone, and had taken up their abode at Tanyr-alt in North Wales. The diary illustrates the difficulties of a pleasure tour sixty years since, and the perseverance of the tourist in spite of ill-health.
“Sep. 9, W. Twice to Bagley’s banker: coach Gerards Hall: sup at Slough. Write to Place.
“10, Th. Breakfast at Thatcham: lunch Beckhampton: cyder, Bath: sleep at Bristol, Bush. Fellow travellers; Mrs Major Wms (Picton) rev. Gibbs, spouter, and Mrs Harwood. Write to M. J. [Mrs Godwin.]
“11, F. Call on Gutch: New Passage to Chepstow: Black Rock Inn, Mr and Mrs Griffiths: dine w. Vivian, Beaufort Arms; walk to the Castle. Write to M. J.
“12, Sa. Boat to Tintern; St Peter’s Thumb, Twelve Apostles, Lover’s Leap: dine at Chepstow: walk to Black Rock; adv. Griffiths (al Lewis) and Yescomb. Write to M. J.
“13, Su. Passage, with 12 horses, &c .: return chaise to Bristol: call on Dr Kentish, deceased. Write to Shelley.
“14, M. Call on
Gutch, and w. him on Cottle: meet Vivian: w.
him Cathedral and Redcliffe: dine at Gutch’s w.
Dr Pritchard. Write to M. J.
French enter Moscow.
210 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“Sep. 15, Tu. Breakfast at Gutch’s: walk w. him to St Vincent’s: tea Cottle’s: Bradbury’s theatre. Write to M. J., sent Wednesday.
“16, W. Call on Gutch and Shephard: Jane, Capt. Edwards, w. Lawrence and son, Capt. Cotham, Miss Fisher, Mrs Kirkby, &c.
“17, Th. Rainy morning: pass Minehead: turned back by a squall, to Penarth, one mile from Cardiff, where it was proposed by the Captain we should sleep on shore, I believe in a barn. Deliquium.
“18, F. Lynmouth, three in afternoon: eat nothing from Wednesday’s dinner: walk to the Valley of Stones. Deliquium, in bed-chamber.
“19, Sa. Call on Mrs Hooper; see Mrs Sandford: horses to Barnstaple; mall and fair.
“20, Su. Coach w. East-Indian and wife, Capt. Burke, Major Hatherley, Lyndon cripple, &c.: South Molton: dine at Tiverton: Peverel; Wellington: sleep at Taunton. Write to M. J.
“21, M. Breakfast at Somerton: walk and prospect at Castle Carey: Wincaunton; Mere: dine at Hindon: sleep at Salisbury: call on Dowding: Cathedral, moonlight. Write to M. J.
“22, Tu. Del. impm. Call on Dowding, and w. Luxford on Jeffery, picture-dealer: meet Tinney: Cathedral and Close: dine at Luxford’s: sup on Welch Rabbit.
“23, W. Deliquia impa. Call on Dowding and Jeffery: Cathedral, charity-sermon, Bp. &c.: dine at Jeffery’s w. Coates, Finches, Miss Noyes, Long and Luxford: adv. Bushel and Mitty. Write to M. J. Darmany calls.
“24, Th. Call on Dowding and Luxford, Jeffery n. and Coates: chaise to Stonehenge and Amesbury: return do. to Andover; call on Godden, tanner. Write to M. J.
THE BRISTOL CHANNEL. | 211 |
“Sep. 25, F. Coach, outside; w. postmaster, Jew, and 2 daughters, D. Hayter of Whitchurch, mechanist: dine at Staines: tea Skinner Street.”
The narrative is given in greater detail to Mrs Godwin. The letter has already been printed by Lady Shelley in her “Shelley Memorials.”
“My dear Love,—The Shelleys are gone! have been gone these three weeks. I hope you hear the first from me; I dread lest every day may have brought you a letter from them, conveying this strange intelligence. I know you would conjure up a thousand frightful ideas of my situation under this disappointment. I have myself a disposition to take quietly any evil, when it can no longer be avoided, when it ceases to be attended with uncertainty, and when I can already compute the amount of it. I heard this news instantly on my arrival at this place, and therefore walked immediately (that is, as soon as I had dined) to the Valley of Stones, that, if I could not have what was gone away, I might at least not fail to visit what remained.
“You advise me to return by sea; I thank you a thousand times for your kind and considerate motive in this, but certainly nothing more could be proposed to me at this moment than a return by sea. I left Bristol at one o’clock on Wednesday, and arrived here at four o’clock on Friday, after a passage of fifty-one hours. We had fourteen passengers, and only four berths, therefore I lay down only once for a few hours. We had very little wind, and accordingly regularly tided it for six hours, and lay at anchor for six, till we reached this place. This place is fifteen miles short of Ilfracombe. If the Captain, after a great entreaty from the mate and one of his passengers (for I cannot entreat for such things) [had not] lent me his own boat to put me ashore, I really think I should have died with ennui. We anchored, Wednesday night, somewhere within sight of the Holmes (small islands,
212 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“Since writing the above I have been to the house where Shelley lodged, and I bring good news. I saw the woman of the house, and I was delighted with her. She is a good creature, and quite loved the Shelleys. They lived here nine weeks and three days. They went away in a great hurry, in debt to her and two more. They gave her a draft upon the Honourable Mr Lawless, brother to Lord Cloncurry, and they borrowed of her twenty-nine shillings, besides that she got for them from a neighbour, all of which they faithfully returned when they got to Ilfracombe, the people not choosing to change a bank-note which had been cut in half for safety in sending it by the post. But the best news is that the woman says they will be in London in a fortnight. This quite comforts my heart.”
The Shelleys arrived in London after their stay at Tanry-alt on October 4th, and dined with Godwin. They remained in London just six weeks, during which time
MARY GODWIN. | 213 |
When Mary Godwin was fifteen her father received a letter from an unknown correspondent, who took a deep interest in the theories of education which had been held by Mary Wollstonecraft, and who was anxious to know how far these were carried out in regard to the children she had left. An extract from Godwin’s reply paints his daughter as she was at that period:—
“Your enquiries relate principally to the two daughters of Mary Wollstonecraft. They are neither of them brought up with an exclusive attention to the system and ideas of their mother. I lost her in 1797, and in 1801 I married a second time. One among the motives which led me to chuse this was the feeling I had in myself of an incompetence for the education of daughters. The
214 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“Of the two persons to whom your enquiries relate, my own daughter is considerably superior in capacity to the one her mother had before. Fanny, the eldest, is of a quiet, modest, unshowy disposition, somewhat given to indolence, which is her greatest fault, but sober, observing, peculiarly clear and distinct in the faculty of memory, and disposed to exercise her own thoughts and follow her own judgment. Mary, my daughter, is the reverse of her in many particulars. She is singularly bold, somewhat imperious, and active of mind. Her desire of knowledge is great, and her perseverance in everything she undertakes almost invincible. My own daughter is, I believe, very pretty; Fanny is by no means handsome, but in general prepossessing.”
In 1813 Shelley was again in London for a short time during the summer, but Mary was absent in Scotland. She was not strong, and as a growing girl needed purer air than Skinner Street could offer; she had therefore gone to Dundee with her father’s friends, Mr Baxter and his daughter; and remained with them six months. It was not until the summer of 1814 that Shelley and Mary Godwin became really acquainted, when he found the child whom he had scarcely noticed two years before had grown into the woman of nearly seventeen summers.
The story has often been told, and told in different ways; but the facts as far as they can be gleaned from the scanty entries in Godwin’s Diary are these. Shelley came to London on May 18th, leaving his wife at Binfield, certainly
ATTACHMENT TO SHELLEY. | 215 |
It was easy for the lovers, for such they became before they were aware of it, to meet without the attention of the parents being drawn to the increasing intimacy, and yet without any such sense of clandestine interviews, as might have disclosed to themselves whither they were drifting. Mary was unhappy at home; she thoroughly disliked Mrs Godwin, to whom Fanny was far more tolerant; her desire for knowledge and love for reading were discouraged, and when seen with a book in her hand, she was wont to hear from her step-mother that her proper sphere was the storeroom. Old St Pancras churchyard was then a quiet and secluded spot, where Mary Wollstonecraft’s grave was shaded by a fine weeping willow. Here Mary Godwin used to take her books in the warm days of June, to spend every hour she could call her own. Here her intimacy with Shelley ripened, and here, in Lady Shelley’s words, “she placed her hand in his, and linked her fortunes with his own.”
It was not till July 8th that Godwin saw in any degree what was going on. The Diary records a “Talk with Mary,” and a letter to Shelley. The explanation was satisfactory—it was before the mutual confession in St Pancras
216 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“15, F. M[arshal] and Shelley for Nash: Balloon: P. B. and H. Shelley to calln.: M. and F. Jones call, for Miss White: call on H. Shelley.
“16, Sa. C. Turner (fr. Mackintosh and Dadley) call: call on Shelleys; coach w. P. B. S.”
It is quite certain that Godwin used all his influence to restore the old relations between husband and wife; and on the 22d “Talk with Jane, letter fr. do. Write to H. S.,” evidently refer to his dislike of the attention which Shelley now paid his daughter. But it was too late; for on July 28th, early in the morning, Mary Godwin left her father’s house, accompanied by Jane Clairmont. They joined Shelley, posted to Dover, and crossed in an open boat to Calais during a violent storm, during which they were in considerable danger. As soon as the elopement was discovered Mrs Godwin pursued the party.
Godwin’s Diary is here also extremely brief:—
“28, Th. Five in the morning. Macmillan calls. M. J. for Dover.”
Charles Clairmont wrote to break the news to Fanny, and devoted himself to his step-father during the three days of uncertainty, till Mrs Godwin returned from Calais on July 31st.
On the evening of their arrival at Calais, Shelley and Mary began a joint diary, which was continued by one or the other through the remainder of Shelley’s life. The entry for the second day gives an account of the entrance
JOURNEY THROUGH FRANCE. | 217 |
Sleeping now in a cabaret and now in a cottage, they at last finished this strange honeymoon, and the strangest sentimental journey ever undertaken since Adam and Eve went forth with all the world before them where to choose.
Godwin’s irritation and displeasure at the step his daughter had taken were extreme. His own views on the subject of marriage had undergone a considerable change, and he was more alive than in former years to the strictures of the world. Nor is it possible for the most enthusiastic admirers of Shelley to palliate materially his conduct in the matter. On any view of the relations between the sexes, on any view of the desirableness of divorce, the breach with Harriet, was far too recent to justify his conduct. In spite of her after-conduct our sympathies cannot but be in some measure with the discarded wife. But neither need they be refused to Mary Godwin. Let it be remembered that she was not seventeen, that her whole sympathies were with her mother, who had held views on marriage, different indeed to those which her daughter was upholding by her action, but which a young
218 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
Godwin’s sources of trouble were considerable at the time of Mary’s leaving her home. He was not a tender father in outward show, but he was sincerely attached to his children, and Mary was bound up with the happiest and the saddest days of the past. William also began to give his father a good deal of uneasiness, and the week after Mrs Godwin returned from her bootless mission to Calais, the boy ran away from home—the first, but by no means the last, escapade of the kind—and could not be found till after two nights’ search and anxiety. And the day after his disappearance was that on which Godwin heard of Patrickson’s suicide.
It has seemed best to give the narratives of Patrickson and Shelley without intermission, but the following letters, which need little elucidation, fall within the period to which the death of the one and the elopement of the other, bring the narrative of Godwin’s life.
“Dear Sir,—I received your letter and the accompanying booklet yesterday. Some one recommended to Gainsborough a subject for a picture: it pleased him much, but he immediately said with a sigh, ‘What a pity I did not think of it myself!’ Had I been
LETTER FROM WORDSWORTH. | 219 |
‘. . . . . . for which cause Among the beasts no mate for thee was found.’” |
“These are objects to which the attention of the mind ought not to be turned even as things in possibility. I have never seen the tale in French, but, as every one knows, the word Bête in French conversation perpetually occurs as applied to a stupid, senseless, half-idiotic person. Bêtise in like manner stands for stupidity. With us, beast and bestial excite loathsome and disgusting ideas—I mean when applied in a metaphorical manner:
220 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“Wm. Taylor of Norwich took the trouble of versifying ‘Blue Beard’ some years ago, and might perhaps not decline to assist you in the present case, if you are acquainted with him, or could get at him. He is a man personally unknown to me, and in his literary character doubtless an egregious coxcomb, but he is ingenious enough to do this, if he could be prevailed upon to undertake it.
“Permit me to add one particular. You live, and have lived, long in London, and therefore may not know at what rate parcels are conveyed by coach. Judging from the size, you probably thought the expense of yours would be trifling. You remember the story of the poor girl who, being reproached with having brought forth an illegitimate child, said it was true, but added that it was a very little one, insinuating thereby that her offence was small in proportion. But the plea does not hold good, as it is in these cases of immorality, so it is with the rules of the coach-offices. To be brief, I had to pay for your tiny parcel 4/9, and should have to pay no more if it had been twenty times as large. . . . . I deem you, therefore, my debtor, and will put you in the way of being quits with me. If you can command a copy of your book upon burial, which I have never seen, let it be sent to Lamb’s for my use, who in the course of this spring will be able to forward it to me.—Believe me, my dear Sir, to be yours sincerely,
LETTER FROM LAMB. | 221 |
“‘Bis dat qui dat
cito.’
|
“I hate the pedantry of expressing that in another language which we have sufficient terms for in our own. So in plain English I very much wish you to give your vote to-morrow at Clerkenwell, instead of Saturday. It would clear up the brows of my favourite candidate, and stagger the hands of the opposite party. It commences at nine. How easy, as you come from Kensington (à propos, how is your excellent family?) to turn down Bloomsbury, through Leather Lane (avoiding Hay Stall St. for the disagreeableness of the name). Why, it brings you in four minutes and a half to the spot renowned on northern milestones, ‘where Hicks’ Hall formerly stood.’ There will be good cheer ready for every independent freeholder; where you see a green flag hang out go boldly in, call for ham, or beef, or what you please, and a mug of Meux’s Best. How much more gentlemen like to come in the front of the battle, openly avowing one’s sentiments, then to lag in on the last day, when the adversary is dejected, spiritless, laid low. Have the first cut at them. By Saturday you’ll cut into the mutton. I’d go cheerfully myself, but I am no freeholder (Fuimus Troes, fuit Ilium), but I sold it for £50. If they’d accept a copy-holder, we clerks are naturally copy-holders.
“By the way, get Mrs Hume, or that agreeable Amelia or Caroline, to stick a bit of green in your hat. Nothing daunts the adversary more than to wear the colours of your party. Stick it in cockade-like. It has a martial, and by no means disagreeable effect.
“Go, my dear freeholder, and if any chance calls you out of this transitory scene earlier than expected, the coroner shall sit lightly on your corpse. He shall not too anxiously enquire into the circumstances of blood found upon your razor. That might happen to any gentleman in shaving. Nor into your having been heard to express a contempt of life, or for scolding Louisa for what Julia did, and other trifling incoherencies.—Yours sincerely,
222 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“My Dear Godwin,—I receive twice the pleasure from my recovery that it would have otherwise afforded, as it enables me to accept your kind invitation, which in this instance I might with perfect propriety and manliness thank you for, as an honour done to me. To sit at the same table with Grattan, who would not think it a memorable honour, a red-letter day in the almanac of his life? No one certainly who is in any degree worthy of it. Rather than not be in the same room, I could be well content to wait at the table at which I was not permitted to sit, and this not merely for Grattan’s undoubted great talents, and still less from any entire accordance with his political opinions, but because his great talents are the tools and vehicles of his genius, and all his speeches are attested by that constant accompaniment of true genius, a certain moral bearing, a moral dignity. His love of liberty has no snatch of the mob in it.
“Assure Mrs Godwin of my anxious wishes respecting her health. The scholar Salernitanus says:
“‘Si tibi deficiant medici, medici tibi
fias
Haec tria: mens hilaris, requies, moderata
diæta.’ |
“The regulated diet she already has, and now she must contrive to call in the two other doctors. . . . God bless you.
“Dear Godwin,—Mr Grattan did me the honour of calling on me and leaving his card on Sunday afternoon, unfortunately a few minutes after I had gone out, and I am so unwell that I am afraid I shall not be able to return the call to-day, as I had intended, though it is a grief even for a brace of days to appear
LETTER FROM COLERIDGE. | 223 |
“‘Ha d’ uopo solo Mendicar dall’ orgoglio, onore e stima Chi senza lui di vilipendio è degno.’ (Chiabrera.) |
“I half caught from Lamb that you had written to Wordsworth with a wish that he should versify some tale or other, and that he had declined it. I told dear Miss Lamb that I had formed a complete plan of a poem, with little plates for children, the first thought, but that alone, taken from Gesner’s ‘First Mariner;’ and this thought I have reason to believe was not an invention of Gesner’s. It is this: that in early time, in some island or part of the continent, the ocean had rushed in, overflowing a vast plain of twenty or thirty miles, and thereby insulating one small promontory or cape of high land, on which was a cottage, containing a man and his wife and an infant daughter. This is the one thought. All that Gesner has made out of it (for I once translated into blank verse about half of the poem, but gave it up under the influence of a double disgust, moral and poetical), I have rejected, and, strictly speaking, the tale in all its parts, that one idea excepted, would be original. The tale will contain the cause, the occasions, the process, with all its failures and ultimate success, of the construction of the first boat, and of the undertaking of the first naval expedition. Now, supposing you liked the idea—I address you and Mrs Godwin as commerciants, not you as the philosopher who gave us the first system in England that ever dared reveal at full that most important of all important truths, that morality might be built up on its own foundation like a castle built from the rock, and on the rock, with religion for the ornaments and completion of its roof and upper storeys—nor as the critic who in the life of Chaucer has given us, if not principles of aesthetic, or taste, yet more and better data for principles than had hitherto existed in our language. If we, pulling like two friendly tradesmen together (for you and your wife must be one flesh, and I trust are one heart), you approve of the plan, the next
224 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“Another thought has struck me of a school-book in two octavo volumes of ‘Lives’ in the manner of Plutarch’s, but instead of comparing and coupling Greek with Roman, Dion with Brutus, and Cato with Aristides, of placing ancient and modern together, Hume with Alfred, Cicero with Bacon, Hannibal with Gustavus Adolphus, and Julius Cæsar with Buonaparte. Or, which perhaps might be at once more interesting and more instructive, a series of ‘Lives,’ from Moses to Buonaparte, of all those great men who in states, or in the mind of man, had produced great revolutions, the effects of which still remain, and are more or less distant causes of the present state of the world. . . .”
“Dear Godwin,—My chief motive in undertaking ‘the first mariner’ is merely to weave a few tendrils around your destined walking stick, which, like those of the wood-bine (that, serpent-like climbing up, and with tight spires embossing the straight hazel, rewards the lucky school-boy’s search in the hazel-copse), may remain on it when the wood-bine, root and branch, lies trampled in the earth. I shall consider the work as a small plot of ground given up to you to be sown at your own hazard with your own seed (gold grains would have been but a bad pun, and besides have spoiled the metaphor). If the increase should more than repay your risk and labour, why then let me be one of your guests at Harvest Home.
“Your last letter impressed and affected me strongly. Ere I had yet read or seen your works, I, at Southey’s recommendation, wrote a sonnet in praise of the author. When I had read them, religious bigotry, the but half-understanding of your principles, and the not half-understanding my own, combined to render me a warm
COLERIDGE ON GODWIN. | 225 |
“As for ——, I cannot justify him; but he stands in no one of the former classes. When he was young he just looked enough into your books to believe you taught republicanism and stoicism; ergo, that he was of your opinion and you of his, and that was all.
226 | WILLIAM GODWIN |
“I am still confined by indisposition, but intend to step out to Hazlitt’s, almost my next door neighbour, at his particular request. It is possible that I may find you there.
“Yours, dear Godwin, affectionately,
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