'Fears In Solitude' by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Written in April 1798, during the alarm of an invasion
A green and silent spot, amid the hills,
A small and silent dell! O'er stiller place
No singing skylark ever poised himself.
The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope,
Which hath a gay and gorgeous covering on,
All golden with the never-bloomless furze,
Which now blooms most profusely: but the dell,
Bathed by the mist, is fresh and delicate
As vernal cornfield, or the unripe flax,
When, through its half-transparent stalks, at eve,
The level sunshine glimmers with green light.
Oh! 'tis a quiet spirit-healing nook!
Which all, methinks, would love; but chiefly he,
The humble man, who, in his youthful years,
Knew just so much of folly as had made
His early manhood more securely wise!
Here he might lie on fern or withered heath,
While from the singing lark (that sings unseen
The minstrelsy that solitude loves best),
And from the sun, and from the breezy air,
Sweet influences trembled o'er his frame;
And he, with many feelings, many thoughts,
Made up a meditative joy, and found
Religious meanings in the forms of Nature!
And so, his senses gradually wrapped
In a half sleep, he dreams of better worlds,
And dreaming hears thee still, O singing lark,
That singest like an angel in the clouds!
My God! it is a melancholy thing
For such a man, who would full fain preserve
His soul in calmness, yet perforce must feel
For all his human brethren—O my God!
It weighs upon the heart, that he must think
What uproar and what strife may now be stirring
This way or that way o'er these silent hills—
Invasion, and the thunder and the shout,
And all the crash of onset; fear and rage,
And undetermined conflict—even now,
Even now, perchance, and in his native isle:
Carnage and groans beneath this blessed sun!
We have offended, Oh! my countrymen!
We have offended very grievously,
And been most tyrannous. From east to west
A groan of accusation pierces Heaven!
The wretched plead against us; multitudes
Countless and vehement, the sons of God,
Our brethren! Like a cloud that travels on,
Steamed up from Cairo's swamps of pestilence,
Even so, my countrymen! have we gone forth
And borne to distant tribes slavery and pangs,
And, deadlier far, our vices, whose deep taint
With slow perdition murders the whole man,
His body and his soul! Meanwhile, at home,
All individual dignity and power
Engulfed in Courts, Committees, Institutions,
Associations and Societies,
A vain, speech-mouthing, speech-reporting Guild,
One Benefit-Club for mutual flattery,
We have drunk up, demure as at a grace,
Pollutions from the brimming cup of wealth;
Contemptuous of all honourable rule,
Yet bartering freedom and the poor man's life
For gold, as at a market! The sweet words
Of Christian promise, words that even yet
Might stem destruction, were they wisely preached,
Are muttered o'er by men, whose tones proclaim
How flat and wearisome they feel their trade:
Rank scoffers some, but most too indolent
To deem them falsehoods or to know their truth.
Oh! blasphemous! the Book of Life is made
A superstitious instrument, on which
We gabble o'er the oaths we mean to break;
For all must swear—all and in every place,
College and wharf, council and justice-court;
All, all must swear, the briber and the bribed,
Merchant and lawyer, senator and priest,
The rich, the poor, the old man and the young;
All, all make up one scheme of perjury,
That faith doth reel; the very name of God
Sounds like a juggler's charm; and, bold with joy,
Forth from his dark and lonely hiding-place
(Portentous sight!) the owlet Atheism,
Sailing on obscene wings athwart the noon,
Drops his blue-fringed lids, and holds them close,
And hooting at the glorious sun in Heaven,
Cries out, "Where is it?"
Thankless too for peace,
(Peace long preserved by fleets and perilous seas)
Secure from actual warfare, we have loved
To swell the war-whoop, passionate for war!
Alas! for ages ignorant of all
Its ghastlier workings, (famine or blue plague,
Battle, or siege, or flight through wintry snows,)
We, this whole people, have been clamorous
For war and bloodshed; animating sports,
The which we pay for as a thing to talk of,
Spectators and not combatants! No guess
Anticipative of a wrong unfelt,
No speculation on contingency,
However dim and vague, too vague and dim
To yield a justifying cause; and forth,
(Stuffed out with big preamble, holy names,
And adjurations of the God in Heaven,)
We send our mandates for the certain death
Of thousands and ten thousands! Boys and girls,
And women, that would groan to see a child
Pull off an insect's leg, all read of war,
The best amusement for our morning meal!
The poor wretch, who has learnt his only prayers
From curses, who knows scarcely words enough
To ask a blessing from his Heavenly Father,
Becomes a fluent phraseman, absolute
And technical in victories and defeats,
And all our dainty terms for fratricide;
Terms which we trundle smoothly o'er our tongues
Like mere abstractions, empty sounds to which
We join no feeling and attach no form!
As if the soldier died without a wound;
As if the fibres of this godlike frame
Were gored without a pang; as if the wretch,
Who fell in battle, doing bloody deeds,
Passed off to Heaven, translated and not killed;
As though he had no wife to pine for him,
No God to judge him! Therefore, evil days
Are coming on us, O my countrymen!
And what if all-avenging Providence,
Strong and retributive, should make us know
The meaning of our words, force us to feel
The desolation and the agony
Of our fierce doings?
Spare us yet awhile,
Father and God! O, spare us yet awhile!
Oh! let not English women drag their flight
Fainting beneath the burthen of their babes,
Of the sweet infants, that but yesterday
Laughed at the breast! Sons, brothers, husbands, all
Who ever gazed with fondness on the forms
Which grew up with you round the same fireside,
And all who ever heard the Sabbath-bells
Without the Infidel's scorn, make yourselves pure!
Stand forth! be men! repel an impious foe,
Impious and false, a light yet cruel race,
Who laugh away all virtue, mingling mirth
With deeds of murder; and still promising
Freedom, themselves too sensual to be free,
Poison life's amities, and cheat the heart
Of faith and quiet hope, and all that soothes,
And all that lifts the spirit! Stand we forth;
Render them back upon the insulted ocean,
And let them toss as idly on its waves
As the vile seaweed, which some mountain-blast
Swept from our shores! And oh! may we return
Not with a drunken triumph, but with fear,
Repenting of the wrongs with which we stung
So fierce a foe to frenzy!
I have told,
O Britons! O my brethren! I have told
Most bitter truth, but without bitterness.
Nor deem my zeal or fractious or mistimed;
For never can true courage dwell with them
Who, playing tricks with conscience, dare not look
At their own vices. We have been too long
Dupes of a deep delusion! Some, belike,
Groaning with restless enmity, expect
All change from change of constituted power;
As if a Government had been a robe
On which our vice and wretchedness were tagged
Like fancy-points and fringes, with the robe
Pulled off at pleasure. Fondly these attach
A radical causation to a few
Poor drudges of chastising Providence,
Who borrow all their hues and qualities
From our own folly and rank wickedness,
Which gave them birth and nursed them. Others, meanwhile,
Dote with a mad idolatry; and all
Who will not fall before their images,
And yield them worship, they are enemies
Even of their country!
Such have I been deemed.—
But, O dear Britain! O my Mother Isle!
Needs must thou prove a name most dear and holy
To me, a son, a brother, and a friend,
A husband, and a father! who revere
All bonds of natural love, and find them all
Within the limits ot thy rocky shores.
O native Britain! O my Mother Isle!
How shouldst thou prove aught else but dear and holy
To me, who from thy lakes and mountain-hills,
Thy clouds, thy quiet dales, thy rocks and seas,
Have drunk in all my intellectual life,
All sweet sensations, all ennobling thoughts,
All adoration of the God in nature,
All lovely and all honourable things,
Whatever makes this mortal spirit feel
The joy and greatness of its future being?
There lives nor form nor feeling in my soul
Unborrowed from my country! O divine
And beauteous Island! thou hast been my sole
And most magnificent temple, in the which
I walk with awe, and sing my stately songs,
Loving the God that made me!—
May my fears,
My filial fears, be vain! and may the vaunts
And menace of the vengeful enemy
Pass like the gust, that roared and died away
In the distant tree: which heard, and only heard
In this low dell, bowed not the delicate grass.
But now the gentle dew-fall sends abroad
The fruit-like perfume of the golden furze:
The light has left the summit of the hill,
Though still a sunny gleam lies beautiful,
Aslant the ivied beacon. Now farewell,
Farewell, awhile, O soft and silent spot!
On the green sheep-track, up the heathy hill,
Homeward I wind my way; and lo! recalled
From bodings that have well-nigh wearied me,
I find myself upon the brow, and pause
Startled! And after lonely sojourning
In such a quiet and surrounded nook,
This burst of prospect, here the shadowy main,
Dim-tinted, there the mighty majesty
Of that huge amphitheatre of rich
And elmy fields, seems like society—
Conversing with the mind, and giving it
A livelier impulse and a dance of thought!
And now, beloved Stowey! I behold
Thy church-tower, and, methinks, the four huge elms
Clustering, which mark the mansion of my friend;
And close behind them, hidden from my view,
Is my own lowly cottage, where my babe
And my babe's mother dwell in peace! With light
And quickened footsteps thitherward I tend,
Remembering thee, O green and silent dell!
And grateful, that by nature's quietness
And solitary musings, all my heart
Is softened, and made worthy to indulge
Love, and the thoughts that yearn for human kind.
Editor 1 Interpretation
Fears In Solitude: A Masterpiece of Romantic Poetry
When it comes to Romantic poetry, Samuel Taylor Coleridge is a name that needs no introduction. His works have left an indelible mark on the literary world, inspiring generations of poets and readers alike. One of his most compelling poems, "Fears in Solitude," is a haunting exploration of the human psyche, fear, and nature. In this literary criticism and interpretation, I will delve into the depths of this masterpiece, uncovering its hidden themes, poetic devices, and historical context.
The Poem: A Snapshot
Before we dive into the poem's analysis, let us take a moment to appreciate its beauty and power. "Fears in Solitude" is a nine-stanza poem, each containing eight lines. It was written in 1798, during Coleridge's stay in the Quantock Hills, Somerset, England. The poem's setting is a summer evening in the countryside, where the speaker, presumably Coleridge himself, is taking a solitary walk. However, instead of finding peace and tranquility in nature, he is plagued by dark thoughts and fears. The poem's tone is somber, introspective, and at times, melancholic. It is a thought-provoking journey into the human mind and its complex relationship with nature.
Historical Context: Fear and Revolution
To understand the poem's themes and imagery, we must first understand its historical context. In 1798, when Coleridge wrote "Fears in Solitude," England was in the midst of a political and social upheaval. The French Revolution had started ten years prior, and its ideals of liberty, equality, and fraternity had spread throughout Europe, including England. The ruling class was fearful of a potential revolution in England and took measures to suppress any dissent. The government passed several acts, including the infamous "Gagging Acts," which restricted freedom of speech and assembly.
Coleridge was a staunch supporter of the French Revolution's ideals, and his poetry reflected his revolutionary spirit. "Fears in Solitude" was written at a time when Coleridge was disillusioned with the government's actions and fearful of their consequences. The poem is a reflection of his anxiety and fear of a potential revolution and its aftermath. It is a warning against the dangers of tyranny and oppression and a call for social and political reform.
Themes: Fear, Nature, and Power
The poem's central theme is fear, and how it affects the human psyche. The speaker is plagued by dark thoughts and fears, which are heightened by the darkness and solitude of the night. He is fearful of the unknown, of what lies beyond the horizon, and of the potential dangers that lurk in the shadows. This fear is both internal and external, reflecting the speaker's anxiety and the political climate of the time.
The poem also explores the relationship between humans and nature. The speaker is in awe of nature's beauty and power, but he is also aware of its dangers. He sees nature as a powerful force that can both inspire and terrify humans. The poem's imagery reflects this duality, with descriptions of both the beauty and terror of nature. The speaker's fear is not only of the government but also of nature itself, reflecting the Romantic era's fascination with both the sublime and the terrifying.
Finally, the poem reflects on the nature of power and its abuse. The speaker is aware of the government's oppressive actions, and he fears their power over the people. He sees the potential for a revolution and the dangers of its aftermath. The poem reflects Coleridge's political beliefs and his call for social and political reform. It is a warning against the dangers of tyranny and a call for social justice.
Poetic Devices: Imagery, Symbolism, and Rhythm
Coleridge's poetic genius is on full display in "Fears in Solitude." The poem is filled with vivid imagery, powerful symbolism, and a rhythmic structure that reflects its themes. The imagery reflects the poem's central themes, with descriptions of nature's beauty and power, the darkness and shadows of the night, and the fear and anxiety of the speaker.
The poem's symbolism is also powerful, reflecting the speaker's fears and anxieties. The owl, a symbol of wisdom and death, is used to represent the unknown and the potential dangers that lurk in the shadows. The bat, a symbol of darkness and evil, is used to represent the oppressive government and its agents. The poem's symbols reflect the Romantic era's fascination with the supernatural and the mysterious.
Finally, the poem's rhythm is both soothing and haunting, reflecting its themes. The poem's structure, with its eight-line stanzas and consistent rhyme scheme, creates a sense of order and symmetry. However, the poem's rhythm is also disrupted by sudden shifts in tone and imagery, reflecting the speaker's fear and anxiety.
Conclusion: A Masterpiece of Romantic Poetry
"Fears in Solitude" is a masterpiece of Romantic poetry, a haunting exploration of the human psyche, fear, and nature. It is a reflection of Coleridge's political beliefs and his call for social and political reform. The poem's imagery, symbolism, and structure are a testament to Coleridge's poetic genius and his ability to capture the complexities of the human experience. It is a thought-provoking journey into the human mind and its relationship with nature and power. Whether read in the context of its historical period or as a timeless exploration of human fears, "Fears in Solitude" remains a powerful and enduring work of literature.
Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation
Fears in Solitude: A Masterpiece of Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Samuel Taylor Coleridge is one of the most celebrated poets of the Romantic era. His works are known for their vivid imagery, emotional depth, and philosophical musings. Among his many masterpieces, "Fears in Solitude" stands out as a powerful and haunting poem that captures the essence of fear and isolation.
Written in 1798, "Fears in Solitude" is a reflection on the state of England during the French Revolution. Coleridge was deeply disturbed by the violence and chaos that he saw unfolding across the channel, and he feared that similar upheavals could occur in his own country. The poem is a meditation on the nature of fear, and how it can consume us when we are alone with our thoughts.
The poem begins with a description of a peaceful valley, where the speaker has retreated to escape the turmoil of the world. He is surrounded by the beauty of nature, but he cannot escape the fear that haunts him. He imagines that the valley is a trap, and that he is a prisoner of his own mind:
"A green and silent spot, amid the hills, A small and silent dell! O'er stiller place No singing sky-lark ever poised himself."
The speaker is acutely aware of his own vulnerability, and he imagines all sorts of dangers lurking in the shadows. He hears the sound of a distant drum, and he imagines that it is the signal for an attack. He sees a hawk circling overhead, and he imagines that it is a spy sent to watch him. He is consumed by a sense of dread, and he cannot shake the feeling that he is being watched:
"Or if the secret ministry of frost Shall hang them up in silent icicles, Quietly shining to the quiet Moon."
The poem is filled with vivid and unsettling images, which serve to heighten the sense of fear and isolation. Coleridge uses language in a way that is both beautiful and terrifying, creating a sense of unease that lingers long after the poem is finished.
As the poem progresses, the speaker becomes increasingly desperate. He longs for the company of others, but he is afraid to leave the safety of his valley. He imagines that the world outside is a place of darkness and chaos, where violence and death are the norm:
"O ye loud Waves! and O ye Forests high! And O ye Clouds that far above me soared! Thou rising Sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky! Yea, every thing that is and will be free!"
The poem ends on a note of despair, as the speaker realizes that he is trapped in his own fears. He longs for the courage to face the world, but he knows that he is powerless to overcome his own weaknesses:
"O God! that horrid deep's unnatural sound! Uproar, and chaos, and thy will and power ! And thou, O silent form, dost tease us out Of thought, as doth eternity:"
In conclusion, "Fears in Solitude" is a masterpiece of Romantic poetry that captures the essence of fear and isolation. Coleridge's use of vivid imagery and powerful language creates a sense of unease that is both beautiful and terrifying. The poem is a meditation on the nature of fear, and how it can consume us when we are alone with our thoughts. It is a haunting reminder of the power of the human mind, and the dangers that lurk within us all.
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