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Gentleman's Magazine 1851 part 1 p.580
know the constitutional weakness against which it had to
struggle. In them we shall find at once the explanation and
the excuse of his short-comings; and far better it is that
they should be fairly expounded by a friend who understands
the whole case, than that scattered evidences of them should
be picked up one by one and exhibited as curiosities and
fragments of "truth brought to light by time," - such
fragments being often only scandals and errors which truth
had in their own day disowned and dismissed to oblivion.
All this we believe to be eminently true with regard to
Hartley Coleridge, and in the copious and candid memoir
attached to these volumes we think the Editor has not only
rendered a service to literary history, by contributing to
it the portrait of a man in all ways interesting and in many
ways remarkable, but has also performed an office of piety
to the memory of his brother. We should have preferred,
indeed, a tone less elaborately apologetic, a more sparing
introduction of censures and regrets, and generally a style
of narrative more concise, and simple, and straight-onward.
But when we remember the relation iin which the Editor
stands to his brother and his family on one side, and to a
jealous and not very reasonable public on the other, we feel
that it would be rash to pronounce judgment on the execution
of a task so very delicate and difficult. Enough that the
story he has recorded is full of interest and instruction,
and as we have good reason to believe that no material part
of the case has been suppressed or misrepresented, those who
are dissatisfied with his treatment of it may treat it
better for themselves.
Hartley Coleridge was born at Clevedon on the 19th of
September, 1796, the eldest son of Samuel Taylor Coleridge,
and therefore with a hereditary title both to gifts of the
intellect and infirmities of the will. About the end of his
fourth year his home was transferred from the banks of the
Severn to the lakes of Cumberland and Westmerland, and fixed
in the house which will long be remembered as the residence
of Southey. He appears to have been distinguished from other
children at a very early age by a certain oddity of manner
and absence of mind, and by a constitutional inaptitude for
all games requiring attention and manual dexterity. This,
rather than any premature devotion to books or aversion from
the society of playmates, prevented him from mixing in
childish sports, and caused him to spend the greater part of
his time in an imaginary world of his own, strangely peopled
with shadows abstracted from the real world in which he
lived, and of the concerns of which he was at the same time
no inattentive observer. How far he was distinguished from
others of the same age by any extraordinary powers of mind
it is not easy to gather. There is hardly any child whose
mind, when subjected to the inspection of poets and
metaphysicians is not full of wonders; and we may more
confidently infer that Hartley was an extraordinary child
from the fact that he certainly grew up to be no ordinary
man, than from the impressions he made on Wordsworth at six
years old, or from his father's report of the metaphysical
mysteries with which his childish understanding perplexed
itself.* Though a clever boy, and not idle, it seems
that he made no remarkable progress in his school-studies,
and it is rather singular that the faculties by which he was
most decidedly distinguished from other boys were not those
which he much cultivated or much excelled in afterwards.
That he lived a great deal in a phantom-world we should not
mention as anything singular - all children do so. Chairs
are turned into carriages and
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* "Hartley, when about five years old, was asked a
question about himself being called Hartley. 'Which
Hartley?' asked the boy. 'Why, is there more than one
Hartley?' 'Yes,' he replied, 'there's a deal of Hartleys.'
'How so?' 'There's Picture-Hartley (Hazlitt had painted a
portrait of him) and Shadow-Hartley, and there's
Echo-Hartley, and there's Catch-me-Fast-Hartley,' at the
same time seizing his own arm with the other hand very
eagerly, and action which shews that his mind must have been
drawn to reflect on what Kant calls the great and
inexplicable mystery, viz. that man should be both his own
subject and object, and that these two should be one." -
p.xxvii.
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