Coleridge’s Study at Greta Hall

Coleridge & His Study at Greta Hall, Keswick, 1800-06.

Friday, July 25, 1800

From the leads on the housetop of Greta Hall, Keswick, Cumberland, at the present time in the occupancy and usufruct-possession of S. T. Coleridge, Esq., Gentleman-poet and Philosopher in a mist.

Yes, my dear Tobin, here I am, with Skiddaw behind my back; the Lake of Bassenthwaite, with its simple and majestic case of mountains, on my right hand; on my left, and stretching far away into the fantastic mountains of Borrowdale, the Lake of Derwent-water; straight before me a whole camp of giants' tents,—or is it an ocean rushing in, in billows that, even in the serene sky, reach halfway to heaven? When I look at the feathery top of this scoundrel pen, with which I am making desperate attempts to write, I see (in that slant direction) the sun almost setting,—in ten minutes it will touch the top of the crag; the vale of Keswick lies between us. So much for the topography of the letter; as to the chronology, it is half past seven in the evening.

Letter to James Webbe Tobin,

From Collected Letters, Ed E L Griggs, I 612.

Charles Lamb's view:

[Coleridge] dwells upon a small hill by the side of Keswick, in a comfortable house, quite enveloped on all sides by a nest of mountains: great floundering bears & monsters they seem’d, all couchant and asleep. We got in in the evening, travelling in a Post Chaise from Penrith, in the midst of a gorgeous sun shine, which transmuted all the mountains into colours, purple &c. &c. We thought we had got into Fairy Land. But that went off (as it never came again while we stayed, we had no more fine sun sets) and we entered Coleridge’s comfortable study just in the dusk, when the mountains were all dark with clouds upon their heads. Such an impression I never received from objects of sight before, nor do I suppose that I can ever again. Glorious creatures, fine old fellows, Skiddaw &c. I never shall forget ye, how ye lay about that night, like an intrenchment, gone to bed as it seemed for the night, but promising that ye were to be seen in the morning. Coleridge had got a blazing fire in his study, which is a large antique ill-shaped room, with an old fashioned organ, never play’d upon, big enough for a church, Shelves of scattered folios, an Eolian Harp, & an old sofa, half bed &c. And all looking out upon the last fading view of Skiddaw & his broad-breasted brethren: What a night!—

From Charles Lamb’s letter, London, 24^th September 1802 to Thomas Manning after a three week stay with Coleridge at Greta Hall.

The Letters of Charles and Mary Lamb, ed Edwin W. Marrs Jr (Cornell UP, 1976), II 68-69.

“The room in which I write”: Coleridge's description:

Every thing, I promised myself in this country, has answered far beyond my expectation. The room in which I write commands six distinct Landscapes—the two Lakes, the Vale, River, & mountains, & mists, & Clouds, & Sunshine make endless combinations, as if heaven & Earth were for ever talking to each other.—Often when in a deep Study I have walked to the window & remained there looking without seeing, all at once the Lake of Keswic[k] & the fantastic Mountains of Borrodale at the head of it have entered into my mind with a suddenness, as if I had been snatched out of Cheapside & placed for the first time on the spot where I stood.—And that is a delightful Feeling—these Fits & Trances of Novelty received from a long known Object. The river Greta flows behind our house, roaring like an untamed Son of the Hills, then winds round, & glides away in the front—so that we live in a penins[ula.]—But besides this etherial Eye-feeding, we have very substantial Conveniences. We are close to the town, where we have a respectable & neighbourly acquainta[nce] and a sensible & truly excellent medical man.—Our Garden is part of a large nursery Garden / which is the same to us & as private as if the whole had been our own, & thus too we have delightful walks without passing our garden gate.

Letter to Josiah Wedgwood, Nov. 1. 1800.—Keswick.

From Collected Letters, Ed E L Griggs, I 644.

... and now the Rain Storm pelts against my Study Window.

Oct. 19. 1803. The general Fast Day—and all hearts anxious concerning the Invasion.—A grey Day, windy—the vale, like a place in Faery, with the autumnal Colours, the orange, the red-brown, the crimson. the light yellow, the yet lingering Green, Beeches ~~all~~ & Birches, as they were blossoming Fire & Gold!—& the Sun in slanting pillars, or illuminated small parcels of mist, or single spots of softest greyish Light, now racing, now slowly gliding, now stationary/—the mountains cloudy—the Lake has been a mirror so very clear, that the water became almost invisible—& and now it rolls in white Breakers, like a Sea; & the wind snatches up the water, & drifts it like Snow/—and now the Rain Storm pelts against my Study Window!—O Σαρα Σαρα why am I not happy! why have I not an unencumbered Heart! these beloved Books still before me, this noble Room, the very centre to which a whole world of beauty converges, the deep reservoir into which all these streams & currents of lovely forms flow—my own mind so populous, so active, so full of noble schemes, so capable of realizing them/this heart so loving, so filled with noble affections—O Ασρα! wherefore am I not happy! why for years have I not enjoyed one pure & sincere pleasure!—one full Joy!—one genuine Delight, that rings sharp to the Beat of the Finger!—all cracked, & dull with base Alloy!

...my Books on the side shelves of the Room were lettered, as it were, on their Backs with Stars.

The Window of my Library at Keswick is opposite to the Fire-place, and looks out on the very large Garden that occupies the whole slope of the Hill on which the House stands. Consequently, the rays of Light transmitted through the Glass, (i.e. the Rays from the Garden, the opposite Mountains, and the Bridge, River, Lake, and Vale interjacent) and the rays reflected from it, (of the Fire-place, &c.) enter the eye at the same moment. At the coming on of Evening, it was my frequent amusement to watch the image or reflection of the Fire, that seemed burning in the bushes or between the trees in different parts of the Garden or the Fields beyond it, according as there was more or less Light; and which still arranged itself among the real objects of Vision, with a distance and magnitude proportioned to its greater or less faintness. For still as the darkness encreased, the Image of the Fire lessened and grew nearer and more distinct; till the twilight had deepened into perfect night, when all outward objects being excluded, the window became a perfect Looking-glass: save only that my Books on the side shelves of the Room were lettered, as it were, on their Backs with Stars, more or fewer as the sky was more or less clouded (the rays of the stars being at that time the only ones transmitted.) Now substitute the Phantom from the brain for the Images of reflected light (the Fire for instance) and the Forms of the room and its furniture for the transmitted rays, and you have a fair resemblance of an Apparition, and a just conception of the manner in which it is seen together with real objects.

Wednesday Midnight ... I went to the window, to empty my Urine-pot, & wondered at the simple grandeur of the View/1. darkness & only not utter black undistinguishableness—2. The grey-blue steely Glimmer of the Greta, & the Lake, 3./The black, yet form preserving Mountains/4 the Sky, moon-whitened there, cloud-blackened here—& yet with all its gloominess & sullenness forming a contrast with the simplicity of the Landscape beneath.
Over the black form-retaining Mountains the Horizon of Sky grey-white all round the whole Turn of my Eye the Sky above chiefly dark, but not nearly so black as the space between my eye & the Lake, which is one formless Black, or as the black nothing-but-form-& colour-Mountains beyond the grey-steely glimmery Lake & River/& this diminished Blackness mottled by the not-far-from-setting half-moon.—O that I could but explain these concentric Wrinkles in my Spectra!

Thursday, Nov. 24th, 1803.—Lo! on this day we change Houses!—All is in a bustle/and I do not greatly like Bustle; but it is not that that depresses me/it is the Change!—Change! —O Change doth trouble me with Pangs untold!—But change, and change! change about!—But they shall not get me out—from Thee, Dear Study!—I must write a Poem on this.

The Coleridges were relocating to the other side of Greta Hall to make room for the Southey family who were moving in. Coleridge made sure he kept his dear study!

Tuesday ½ past 3. beautiful Sun set—the Sun setting behind Newlands across the foot of the Lake. The Sky cloud-less, save that there is a cloud on Skiddaw, one on the highest Mountain in Borrodale, some on Helvellin, and the Sun sets in a glorious Cloud/these Clouds are of various shapes, various Colours —& belong to their mountains, & have nothing to do with the Sky. —N.B. Something metallic, silver playfully & imperfectly gilt, & highly polished; or rather something mother of pearlish, in the Sun gleams upon Ice, thin Ice.

“As I first sink on the pillow”—falling asleep on the pillow breasts of the study couch

When in a state of pleasurable & balmy Quietness I feel my Cheek and Temple on the nicely made up Pillow in Cælibe Toro meo, the fire-gleam on my dear Books, that fill up one whole side from ceiling to floor of my Tall Study—& winds, perhaps are driving the rain, or whistling in frost, at my blessed Window, whence I see Borrodale, the Lake, Newlands—wood, water, mountains, omniform Beauty—O then as I first sink on the pillow, as if Sleep had indeed a material realm, as if when I sank on my pillow, I was entering that region & realized Faery Land of Sleep—O then what visions have I had, what dreams—the Bark, the Sea, ~~the~~ all the shapes & sounds & adventures made up of the Stuff of Sleep & Dreams, & yet my Reason at the Rudder/O what visions, <µαστοι> as if my Cheek & Temple were lying on me gale o' mast on—Seele meines Lebens!—& I sink down the waters, thro' Seas & Seas—yet warm, yet a Spirit—/Pillow = mast high <οι>.

Cælibe Toro meo: on my bachelor bed ( i.e. what Lamb described as "old sofa, half bed" in C's study). Coburn translates this as "celibate couch", but C's chosen expression caelebs torus, which according to its editor only appears in Seneca's Agamemnon, has an association with extra-marital sexual activity. In Seneca's play Clytemnestra jealously complains that Agamemnon, away at Troy, always has a barbarian mistress in his cælebs torus (bachelor bed) (Line 185). C's study bed, as this entire entry makes abundantly clear, offers him similar opportunities in his fantasy world. This link is strengthened by the knowledge that C was reading Seneca's tragedies at Greta Hall during this period. In January 1801 he was reading Thyestes - see CNI 884, and in September 1803 Troades - see CNI 1507.

me gale o’mast on: large breasted (phonetic from the Greek megalomaston)

µαστοι; mast high <οι>: mastoi = breasts (Greek). Coburn's layout of the bottom line is misleading. "Pillow..." is on the same line as "Spirit—/ " . Coleridge inserted "οι" above "high" and Coburn created space for this by placing "Pillow = mast high" a line below its true position. Her normal editorial procedure is to place such insertions in angular brackets <> in the line where they belong.