Titlebook: Samuel Taylor Coleridge; A Literary Life William Christie Book 2007 Palgrave Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited 2007 Col

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,‘To Rust Away’: The Lost Years 1800–6, the rear. Atop a small hill that nestled in a moat-like horse-shoe curve of the River Greta, it looked out over Lake Keswick and Bassenthwaite Water and up into ‘the most fantastic mountains, that ever Earthquakes made in sport’ (. I, 615). Behind it, ‘ & entering into all our views’, rose the moun

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,‘The One Proteus of the Fire and the Flood’: Critic for Hire,and family – at least, those friends and family living in the north of England. It took him a month even to write to his wife, who in 1803 had been joined at Greta Hall by her sister and Robert Southey and their family. The Wordsworths, with whom Coleridge communicated more promptly, received only c

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Epilogue,ssed on a version of Wordsworth’s message about how insufferable Coleridge had been to live with (CAT III, 4006). He was wrong. No one had ever loved him enough to satisfy his insatiable needs, perhaps – ‘The whole craving of his moral being was for love’, wrote his disciple Thomas Allsop. – but Col

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,‘A Known and Familiar Landscape’: Conversations, two years, because the Wedgwood annuity that would be bestowed upon him in January 1798 seemed at the time to answer this anxiety. The truth is, however, it was an anxiety that would afflict him on and off for the remainder of his life. On this occasion, Poole revealed that he and other friends and

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,‘The One Proteus of the Fire and the Flood’: Critic for Hire,Dorothy Wordsworth’s reaction to Coleridge after three years apart in late October suggests that a consciousness of his own visible decline may have been another reason for Coleridge’s reluctance to return to the Lake District, however sympathetic his friends might have been:

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Epilogue,Morgan, Henry Crabb Robinson – none of them would have expressed it in Lamb’s inimitable way, but every one of them knew the affection and frustration of being Coleridge’s friend. And for all of them, Wordsworth included, the affection survived the frustration. For Lamb especially, the poetry, too,