Chapter 17

Coleridge begins Chapter 17 by enthusiastically praising Wordsworth’s preface. However,

the main focus of the chapter is actually a critique of Wordsworth, particularly his claim that
“poetry in general consists entirely of language taken... from the mouths of men in real life”
and expresses “natural feelings.”

Coleridge quickly counters that only a limited type of poetry can be written in the idiom
Wordsworth proposes (“this rule applies only to certain types of poetry”). He argues that, for
example, in the case of eighteenth-century rustic poetry, Wordsworth adds nothing new. The
key objection, however, is to Wordsworth’s idealisation of the "language really used by
men," which Coleridge calls “useless, if not injurious,” and suggests should not be practised.
But who is it injurious to? Coleridge clarifies that this “low and rustic” poetry is not meant
for actual peasants but for middle- and upper-class readers. What pleasure is there in reading
poems about peasants in “peasant-ese”? Coleridge considers three possible answers, only to
dismiss them by emphasising that they were not Wordsworth’s intentions.

The poet informs his reader, that he had generally chosen low and rustic life; but not
as low and rustic, or in order to repeat that pleasure of doubtful moral effect, which
persons of elevated rank and of superior refinement oftentimes derive from a happy
imitation of the rude unpolished manners and discourse of their inferiors. For the
pleasure so derived may be traced to three exciting causes. The first is the naturalness,
in fact, of the things represented. The second is the apparent naturalness of the
representation, as raised and qualified by an imperceptible infusion of the author’s
own knowledge and talent, which infusion does, indeed, constitute it an imitation as
distinguished from a mere copy. The third cause may be found in the reader’s
conscious feeling of his superiority awakened by the contrast presented to him; even
as for the same purpose the kings and great barons of yore retained, sometimes actual
clowns and fools, but more frequently shrewd and witty fellows in that character.
(Biographia Literaria)

The options are: (a) we might simply be interested in the low and rustic, much like a scientist
studies life in a rock pool—perhaps out of a disinterested curiosity about how others (or
rather, most people) live. However, Coleridge doubts that readers engage in poetry for such
reasons. (b) Alternatively, we might take pleasure in imitating those beneath us, like Marie
Antoinette dressing as a milkmaid with elaborate frills and fine china. Coleridge rightly
points out that this type of pleasure is morally questionable. Or, finally, (c) we might enjoy
looking down on our inferiors to reaffirm our own social superiority, which again is far from
morally defensible.

If none of these reasons apply, then what were the true motivations behind Wordsworth’s
adoption of a ‘low and rustic’ style?

He chose low and rustic life, ‘because in that condition the essential passions of the
heart find a better soil, in which they can attain their maturity, are less under restraint,
and speak a plainer and more emphatic language; because in that condi- tion of life
our elementary feelings coexist in a state of greater simplicity, and consequently may
be more accurately contemplated, and more forcibly communicated; because the
manners of rural life germinate from those elementary feelings; and from the
necessary character of rural occupations are more easily comprehended, and are more
durable; and lastly, because in that condition the passions of men are incorporated
with the beautiful and permanent forms of nature’. (Biographia Literaria)

At the heart of Coleridge's argument is a simple point: he disagrees with the idea of the
"noble savage." He believes that "primitive" life is not noble or simple, but rather brutal and
degrading. As the argument progresses, things become more complex. Coleridge admires
certain Wordsworthian poems, but he argues that they don't support Wordsworth's own claim.
In poems like “Brothers”, “Michael”, and “Ruth”, the characters are not truly from “low or
rustic life” in the typical sense. While Coleridge acknowledges that some individual peasants
may display dignity or nobility, he insists that the majority do not, and that poetry should
focus on the general, not the exception.

I adopt with full faith, the principle of Aristotle, that poetry, as poetry, is essentially
ideal, that it avoids and excludes all accident; that its apparent individualities of rank,
character, or occupation must be representative of a class; and that the persons of
poetry must be clothed with generic attributes, with the common attributes of the
class; not with such as one gifted individual might possibly possess. (Biographia
Literaria)
The protagonist of Michael is an exceptional figure (exceptionally old, exceptionally stoic,
and so on), while the Idiot Boy goes to the opposite extreme, presenting only “morbid
idiocy.” Coleridge then quotes from Wordsworth's preface, where he claims that the language
“has been adopted (purified indeed from what appears to be its real defects, from all lasting
and rational causes of dislike or disgust).” Coleridge uses this to argue that...

a rustic’s language, purified from all provincialism and grossness, and so far re-
constructed as to be made consistent with the rules of grammar . . . will not differ
from the language of any other man of common-sense, however learned or refined he
may be, except as far as the notions, which the rustic has to convey, are fewer and
more indiscriminate. (Biographia Literaria)

This is a strong critique of Wordsworth, but it contradicts Coleridge’s earlier objection. If

Wordsworth uses the demeaning, quasi-Jacobin language of the common people, he risks
lowering the tone. If he alters that language to highlight dignity and nobility, he may
contradict his own project in the Preface, but he’s not lowering the tone. Coleridge accuses
Wordsworth of both excessive particularity and inconsistent idealisation of the peasant. He
can’t have it both ways.

I deny that the words and combinations of words derived from the objects, with which
the rustic is familiar, whether with dis- tinct or confused knowledge, can be justly said
to form the best part of language. It is more than probable, that many classes of the
brute creation possess discriminating sounds, by which they can convey to each other
notices of such objects as concern their food, shelter, or safety. Yet we hesitate to call
the aggregate of such sounds a language, otherwise than metaphorically. (Biographia
Literaria)

This returns to the idea of the “purity”of language. Implicit in this is a rebuttal against the
claim that the language of ordinary peasants is “purer” than that of more civilised people, a
view sometimes based on the idea that refined, sophisticated language is overly artificial and
decadent. Coleridge counters this by acknowledging that peasant speech may be simpler than
that of the aristocracy, but argues that a dog barking in anger is even simpler.

The best part of human language, properly so called, is derived from reflection on the
acts of the mind itself. It is formed by a voluntary appropriation of fixed symbols to
 internal acts, to pro- cesses and results of imagination, the greater part of which have
no place in the consciousness of uneducated man. (Biographia Literaria)

Does advanced thought involve abstractions or meta-thought, a reflection on cognition?

Either way, Coleridge suggests, using an example that may seem racist to modern readers,
that:

The extreme difficulty, and often the impossibility, of finding words for the simplest
moral and intellectual processes of the languages of uncivilized tribes has proved
perhaps the weightiest obstacle to the progress of our most zealous and adroit
missionaries. Yet these tribes are surrounded by the same nature, as our peasants are.
(Biographia Literaria)

It’s unclear whether Coleridge believes the indigenous peoples of Papua New Guinea or the
Amazon lack all “moral and intellectual” processes, or if he means their processes are
unchristian and therefore incomplete. The former is overtly racist, while the latter is more
imperialist and appropriative.

The chapter concludes with a jab at Wordsworth for claiming that the proper language of
poetry is that of ordinary speech “in a state of excitement.” Coleridge's mockery is effective,
but Wordsworth never actually said this—his preface refers to "the languages of men in a
state of vivid sensation." Given Coleridge's own emphasis on the precise use of language, this
seems particularly unfair to Wordsworth, as passion and sensation are not the same thing.