Opus maximum: The Clare College Conference 2003

 

INTRODUCTION

 

Camille Wingo

 

Through Lent and Easter terms (2003), in the Faculty of Divinity at the University of Cambridge, a seminar met weekly to  read selections from the Opus Maximum.  Attendance was open to all, and the nature of the resultant collective hints that perhaps it is the signature trait of a genuinely profound intellect that its product continues to draw attention from thinkers in a range of disciplines, not only for general interest, but especially for the vibrant insights it brings to specialist in their respective fields: we met and read as literary critics, philosophers, theologians, and cognitive scientists.  Discussion alternated between reading in context—Coleridge's life, his work and his period—and scrutinizing passages in their particularity.  The study was always diverse and exploratory, but bounded and bonded in close, never hasty, attention to the text.

The closing workshop, which met on Friday, June 20, 2003 in the Thirkill Room, brought to plain view themes which, for me at least, had lurked throughout the seminar.  John Beer showed us that editing Coleridge is hard, meticulous work; we are very grateful to editors for blazing this trail.  Graham Davidson asked us to consider the whole person: should we disdain the seamy side of Coleridge or romanticize it as the swelling of an un-encumbered spirit, in so doing we are likely to miss the Christian grappling with profound conundrums.   Luke Wright paralleled the dating and ordering of fragments from the Opus Maximum with the archaeological reconstruction of a pot from shards, a parallel which illustrates that we must remain open-minded to  a) new ways of reading a text and  b) the possibility that the shards do not, in fact, all belong to the same, cohesive pot.  Dan Hardy's characterization—‘implicateness’, folded-ness—for Coleridge's work captured well its particular subtlety; but also described how the seminar proceeded, not so much by each of us interpreting as by each of us unfolding the text before us.  Like a road map, it never folded or unfolded the same way twice, and therein lies the intrigue 'implicateness' so well captures.  A Coleridge scholar's deepest appreciation of implicateness, however, as Jeff Barbeau demonstrated on Fragment 2, only follows upon careful explication, an achievement complementary to the editor's: the editor blazed the trail; Jeff drew us the map. 

 

 

 


Coleridge’s Magnum Opus and his Opus Maximum

 

John Beer

 

I have long known the manuscripts that form the contents of the newly published volume and consulted them in various forms and on various occasions, but I have always found them puzzling, the main enigma being that there is so little evidence in them of their overall organization and that Coleridge never gives an account within them of his main purpose in creation—though of course he often indicates his current topic in individual manuscripts, and they are quite evidently meant to be associated with some of the major projects of his later years—particularly with what he calls ‘The Assertion of Religion’. We do not even know the order in which he expected his sections to appear and it seems quite possible that he was not finally sure. It seems to me that there is also a difficulty for the general reader in the ‘Prolegomena’, which arises from an ambiguity involved in the concept of the edition itself: that is, the roles of the ‘magnum opus’ and of the ‘opus maximum’ and the editor’s apparent acceptance of the fact that the second is not to be identified with the first. The most prominent idea in the editor’s original Prolegomena was associated with Coleridge’s desire to complete a magnum opus, the roots of this idea as a concept in Western culture and his fascination with it as a concept. Yet to an intelligent reader of the texts themselves it soon becomes clear that what is presented here is not his magnum opus but a series of manuscripts associated with that dream. McFarland of course, shows himself thoroughly alive to the issues involved, which is not surprising, since one of his most important books was a series of studies entitled Romanticism and the Forms of Ruin in which a constant theme was the difficulty for the Romantic writer in achieving a great and fully satisfying whole, so that the most characteristic Romantic form becomes the fragment; and of course what we have in the volume are labeled precisely as ‘Fragments’; but I think that in his treatment as a whole he has still allowed some of the ambiguities to be left unresolved.

 

 


Fragment One

Duty and Power: Conflicts of the Will in Coleridge’s Creation of the Self

 

Graham Davidson

 

The Will as the foundation of human individuality is an idea that permeates Coleridge’s thinking and takes center stage as the premise of the Opus Maximum.

There are two principal orders of the Will in the Opus: the first is materialist, serving our appetites and desires, which Coleridge associated with the animal part of our nature and which if given primacy creates a phantom self; the second is rational, of Reason, the law of conscience, the moral moving towards the spiritual in us, and which identifies self as other.  Behind both is a third, what Coleridge calls “the Absolute will”, which transcends finite existence.

Coleridge more or less opposes the rational and the animal, which become the prime sources of Duty and Power.  To those who justify their appetites and desires by comparing them with those of beasts, Coleridge declares, “[b]ut you are not a beast, for beasts are not capable of reasoning; and you are not a man, for you disown the principles of reason.” Coleridge believes that the truths of Reason are the truths of our distinct humanity, and to reject moral truths constitutes a dereliction of one’s humanity.

What I intended to show was that the theoretical opposition he posited in the realization of the adult self is not consistent with what he says about the development of the self through the relations between mother and child, his principal example of how we create a self based on the principles of reason.

In preparation for this argument he denied that we use Reason exclusively to discover the truths of reason, and he develops the metaphor of priming a pump to illustrate his point.  This metaphor permits the child’s relationship with the mother to begin in sense, in appetite.  His language in describing that relationship is the language of love and dalliance: ‘… the little creature has slept out its sleep and stilled its hunger at the mother’s bosom/ that very hunger a mode of Love, all made up of Kisses—and coos and wantons with pleasure, and laughs and plays bob cherry with the Mother, that is all, all to it…’

In the second part of the paper I traced how this kind of kind of language empowers Coleridge’s later poetry, how the love language Coleridge ascribes to the child devoted to the mother is the love language of his poems – which often begin with his sense of devotion, perhaps subliminally mixed with appetite, to a muse or mother-like figure.  However Coleridge’s firm belief in his moral and philosophical principles finally caused him to reject this both as a poetic method and as a mode of behaviour.  This caused him profound internal conflict, which may be witnessed in certain poems – ‘Duty Surviving Self-love’ for example – but which called him more and more towards a desire to realize ‘the full Idea of the Reality of the Absolute Will’.  His final hope was expressed in a couplet – ‘O! might Life cease, and selfless Mind,/ Whose Being is Act, alone remain behind!’ – whether a triumphant or a tragic declaration I cannot determine.

 


Fragment Two

Coleridge’s Natural Theology and Atheism: The demonstration of God in Fragment 2 of the Opus Maximum

 

Jeffrey W. Barbeau

 

My introduction to fragment 2 explained how Coleridge attempts to clear away false demonstrations of the doctrine of God in the Opus in order to prepare his readers for an adequate conception of how only the revelation in Reason and Faith is capable of rightly beholding the Divine.  The first section of the paper developed, on biographical and historical grounds, the course of Coleridge’s own shifting views of God.  Coleridge was raised under the orthodox tutelage of his father, Rev. John Coleridge, who was not only the vicar at Ottery St. Mary but a biblical scholar.  Later, after his father’s death, Coleridge came under the influence of William Frend and Unitarianism at Cambridge.  Following Joseph Priestley, Coleridge’s writings during this time reflect a latent distrust for the corruption of Christianity through contact with Platonism and a reliance on the notion of mystery.  Slowly, however, Coleridge’s anti-Trinitarianism faded through contact with the idealism of German philosophy and, especially, the writings of Anglican theologians such as Bishop Samuel Horsley.  Thus, by 1805, Unitarianism was no longer, for Coleridge, a reasonable philosophical option.  Placed in the framework of Coleridge’s freshly kindled religious devotion, “Unitarianism in all its Forms is Idolatry” (CN, 2:2448), and abhorrently unfaithful to the God it claimed.

The second section of the paper takes up this intellectual and spiritual shift and places it in contact with the Opus.  With particular attention to the Trinitarian theology of Aids to Reflection, Barbeau turns to Coleridge’s approach to the demonstration of God in the Opus.  After appropriating the manuscript fragment known as the “Essay on Faith,” Coleridge presents a section entitled “On the existential reality of the Idea of the Supreme Being, i.e. of God” (96).  In this section, Coleridge argues against the ontological argument of English divines and the evidentiary theology used not only by Paley but by Unitarians such as Thomas Belsham invoking the authority of fulfilled prophecies and miracles in Scripture.  Coleridge suggests that the belief that the existence of God may be demonstrated [from nature] is so widespread that it seems to be the only rational approach to the problem.  On the contrary, Coleridge maintains that “the most dangerous of all weakness is a false presumption of strength.”  In particular, Coleridge opposes the consequent reasoning of a natural theology that attempts to discern the existence of the Creator on the basis of the wonders of creation; theologians risk equating Nature with the Divine.  According to Coleridge, the depersonalization of the Divine, common to pantheism and Unitarianism, ultimately leads to Atheism.  Rather than the basis of theistic proofs, Coleridge proposes that natural theology is no more than “an efficient ally” (110).

 

 


Fragment Three

The Divine Ideas and the Absolute Will

 

Luke Wright

 

Fragment three of the Opus Maximum is titled ‘On the Divine Ideas’.  The central project of this attempt to begin the work again (and that it is an attempt to begin the work again is clear from the fact that it commences with an introduction to the project as a whole,) is to see the world through the hermeneutic of understanding God as the Absolute Will.  Using this hermeneutic Coleridge attempted to demonstrate that when the idea of the Divine was considered rationally from the perspective of Absolute Will: the Trinity is the only form in which the divine could exist—because of the fact that the will must manifest itself, i.e. in an incarnation, to be actual.  His second project within the first chapter of Fragment Three was to attempt to demonstrate that employing the hermeneutic of Absolute Will solves the problem of evil—though this theodicy is inclusive and unsatisfying. 

The second chapter of the work attempts to treat the subject through an a posteriori approach.  Coleridge first discussed the futility of scientific attempts to demonstrate the existence of God, reiterating that an a-priori approach using the hermeneutic of Absolute Will is the only potentially productive avenue.  In the second half of the second chapter Coleridge undertook a piece of Comparative Religion which took a second, a posteriori  line of attack to demonstrate that the Trinity is the only rationally consistent form of the Divine (and though his History of Religion methodology is crude by today’s standards, for the time it was not anthropologically unperceptive). 

  The focus of fragment three can be seen in other areas throughout the work, such as the fact that the very first page of fragment one discusses both the assumptions of Science and the concept of the Will.  This is equally true of Fragment two: where the first paragraph begins a discussion of the individual will and individual consciousness.  It is equally discernible later in the fragment when Coleridge writes that ‘The Will of God is the last and final claim of all our duties… But the supreme Will, which is one with the supreme Intelligence, is revealed to man through the conscience; (Opus Maximum, p. 93).  Fragment three should be seen as an attempt formally to clarify a work in progress.

 

 

 

 

Fragment Four

The Implicateness of the Opus Maximum

 

Dan Hardy, by Camille Wingo

 

The last of our workshop presenters, Dan Hardy, proffered the word ‘implicate’ as key to understanding Opus Maximum, and the characterization has appeal.  As a compound of the Latin in ('in') and plicare ('to fold'), its etymological connotations evoke various, suggestive images.  We may think of the in-folding of wadded up paper, of a road map or of a an origami sculpture; we may contemplate as implicate either Coleridge's literary style or the metaphysical reality which he explicates.  What fascinates, however, is not that all of these in-foldings are alike, nor that they are analogous, nor even that they are identical; but — and this is the thrust of Fragment 4 — that in-folding is the metaphysical principle which undergirds all holistic complexity, and life in particular.

The universe, according to Coleridge, is what it is by virtue of ‘compound powers’: a single power compounded of two powers which do not merely co-exist, but exist in an ‘interchange of being’, are ‘inter-agents’ and, in some cases, mutually antecedent.  There is a relation between the two along a particular but ephemeral issue like relation of two faces along a fold, yet one face folded.  To be more precise, ‘...the law of polarity...by means of two contrary powers united in the same subject, and manifesting the unity by opposition.   (p. 298)

One power may be antecedent to the other.  Quality, for instance, is antecedent to quantity in a certain proportion; quantity — which we, I think, would call complexity — follows from quality.  A stone is abundantly stony (quality), but in its very stoniness simpler (of lower quantity); whereas organisms, although abundantly mineral-y (carbon-based), being more complex than a stone, have a higher proportion of quantity to quality.  Everything is in some proportion qualitative and quantitative.  Where the two facets meet, that is at their just their being stuff, like the infinitely yet locatable line that is a fold, is ineffably simple.

The powers comprising the compound may, however, be reciprocally antecedent.  Following Aristotle, Coleridge cites the relation between whole and parts.  It is not merely epistemologically that a whole should imply parts, and parts a whole, an accident of language; but that wholes and parts exist ontologically and are ontologically prior to each other.  Something would not be a part were there no whole; neither would there be any whole without there being already its parts.  Thus wholes and parts are symmetrical facets along a fold.

‘Implicate’ also nicely describes Coleridge's literary style.  His writings are adventurous: we follow as he folds.  Like a master of origami, seemingly suddenly, presents to us a sculpture; a sculpture, never a road map, but, on occasion and by his own admission, a wad of paper.  Regarding a particular paragraph point he writes, ‘The truth I seem to myself to have mastered, but I shrink from the difficulty of explication.’  (p.24)

Thus the whole of reality is implicate, comprised in such in-folding.  It is in the nature of folds, however, to fold into another dimension; hence the origami universe in which, as Dan Hardy pointed out for us, it is possible following the folds to get from anywhere to anywhere in our uni-verse.

 

*  *  *  *

 

 

The conference met on Friday, June 20, 2003; 9:00 a.m. – 5:00 p.m.; Thirkill Room; Old Court, Clare College; University of Cambridge.

 

The working title of the book is The Harmony of All Knowledge: Variations and Themes in the 'Great Work' of S. T. Coleridge.

 

Contributors: Jeffrey W. Barbeau, Murray J. Evans, Luke Wright, Graham Davidson, James Vigus, Alan P. R. Gregory, Douglas Hedley, Karen McLean, Scott Masson, Nick Reid, Dan Hardy, and John Beer.

 

The publication of Coleridge’s unfinished Opus Maximum is a landmark in modern thought.  These essays are the first collection of scholarship on the fragments that form Coleridge’s lifelong dream of writing a ‘great work’ that would demonstrate the philosophical vitality of true religion.  Left to J. H. Green at Coleridge’s death, the fragmentary remains of the Opus were the source of considerable speculation during the nineteenth century.  In the twentieth century, renewed interest in the unpublished remains of the Opus led to the collection of the fragments by several libraries.  Yet, the fragments remained inaccessible to all but those few scholars willing and able to examine the Opus in manuscript.  The complete publication of the Collected Coleridge has now made these fragments accessible to all.  Still, Coleridge’s wide-ranging interest in philosophical and theological traditions, along with a sophisticated if fragmented philosophical rhetoric, leave even specialists of Coleridge bewildered at the task of understanding the Opus.  The essayists in this volume, all scholars engaged in the study of Coleridge, bring together a range and depth of insight that will open the fragments to critical appreciation for the first time.  Thus, The Harmony of All Knowledge will long remain a standard resource for any subsequent appreciation of Coleridge’s lifelong work