Over the last couple of days I've spent time re-reading some Romantic poetry. Although I have always loved "Frost at Midnight", I have to admit that the last time I read much Coleridge I was probably still at school! But, having been visiting the Somerset area where the poet lived for a while, where he wrote several of his best known poems and gained inspiration for many others, I felt duty bound to revisit his work.
The house where Coleridge spent three years in the late 1790s is in Nether Stowey; now looked after by the National Trust, it's an interesting place to visit. But not only do you find there a lot about Coleridge, there is so much too about his wife, Sara. And I found myself full of righteous indignation at the lot of so many male poet's wives! I've always felt for Helen, the wife of Edward Thomas, given such a bad press by Robert Frost after her husband's death in France. At Nether Stowey my heart went out to Sara Coleridge. She was burdened with total responsibility for all things domestic whilst her husband pursued grandiose and unworkable projects, she was left unsupported by him during their second child's illness and subsequent death, only to be written off by Wordsworth's sister (who gladly ate her food, spent long hours walking with her husband and even borrowed her clothes) as "a sad fiddle-faddler"! How many strong, intelligent women, talented in their own right have sacrificed themselves in the past to enable their partners to shine? And, sadly, how many continue to do so today?
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| Statue of The Ancient Mariner in Watchet Harbour |
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