Life of Samuel Taylor Coleridge | Page 3

scene took
place. The bishop had a maiden daughter, past the meridian of life, who
was always glad to see and converse with the "dear good old man" (his
usual appellation), and who was also kind enough to remind him of his
little 'Forgets' in society, and rouse him from his absent moods. It not
being the fashion in his day for gentlemen to wear braces, his
small-clothes, receding from his waistcoat, left a space in his black
dress, through which often appeared a portion of his linen. On these
occasions, the good lady would draw his attention to this appearance,
by saying in an under tone, "A little to this side, Mr. Coleridge," or to
that, as the adjustment might require. This hint was as instantly
attended to as his embarrassed manner, produced by a sense of the
kindness, would permit. On the day above alluded to, his kind friend
sat next to him, dressed, as was then the fashion, in a smart party-going
muslin apron. Whilst in earnest conversation with his opposite
neighbour, on the side next the lady appeared the folds of his shirt,
through the hiatus before described, so conspicuously as instantly to
attract her notice. The hint was immediately given: "Mr. Coleridge, a
little on the side next me;"--and was as instantly acknowledged by the
usual reply, "Thank you, ma'am, thank you," and the hand set to work
to replace the shirt; but unfortunately, in his nervous eagerness, he
seized on the lady's apron, and appropriated the greater part of it. The
appeal of "Dear Mr. Coleridge, do stop!" only increased his
embarrassment, and also his exertions to dispose, as he thought, of his

shirt; till the lady, to put a stop to the titter of the visitors, and relieve
her own confusion, untied the strings, and thus disengaging herself, left
the room, and her friend in possession of her apron. [2]
Mrs. Coleridge, the mother of my friend, and of whom I have already
spoken, had naturally a strong mind. She was an uneducated woman,
industriously attentive to her household duties, and devoted to the care
of her husband and family. Possessing none, even of the most common
female accomplishments of her day, she had neither love nor sympathy
for the display of them in others. She disliked, as she would say, "your
harpsichord ladies," and strongly tried to impress on her sons their little
value, in their choice of wives. As a clergyman's wife her conduct was
exemplary; the father of my friend had a fortune in such a woman, and
she found in him, with all his peculiarities, a kind, sweet tempered,
engaging husband. She was, I should add, a very good woman, though
like Martha, over careful in many things, very ambitious for the
advancement of her sons in life, but wanting perhaps that flow of heart
which her husband possessed so largely. But "imperfection cleaves to
mortality." Such, as given in this brief sketch, were the parents of the
subject of this memoir. [3]
I have heard Coleridge relate the following anecdote of his father. The
old gentleman had to take a short journey on some professional
business, which would detain him from home for three or four days: his
good wife, in her care and watchfulness, had packed a few things in a
small trunk, and gave them in charge to her husband, with strong
injunctions that he was to put on a clean shirt every day. On his return
home, his wife went to search for his linen, when, to her dismay, it was
not in the trunk. A closer search, however, discovered that the vicar had
strictly obeyed her injunctions, and had put on daily a clean shirt, but
had forgotten to remove the one underneath. This might have been the
pleasantest and most portable mode of carrying half a dozen shirts in
winter, but not so in the dog-days.
As a preacher, he was peculiar: it is said, that the poor idolized, and
looked upon him with great reverence; and when death removed this
distinguished and eminent scholar from among them, his successor had

little chance of pleasing to the same extent. In their great admiration of
him, they would often say, "How fine he was in his discourse, for he
gave us the very words the spirit spoke in," viz. the Hebrew, with
which he frequently indulged them in his sermons, and which seems
greatly to have attracted the notice of the agricultural population, who
flocked from the neighbourhood, to the town in which he resided.
Excited and stimulated by curiosity, this class of persons might attend
the church, and in listening for the Hebrew they would perhaps be more
attentive, and carry away some useful portions of the English from this
amiable and accomplished pastor.
As