Samuel Coleridge was not only a poet. He was concerned with philosophy in a professional way, and advanced original theories which bewildered his contemporaries rather than persuaded them (e. g., Coleridge S. T. A Dissertation on the Science of Method; or, The Laws and Regulative Principles of Education. L.: Griffin, 1859; Coleridge S. T. Hints Towards the Formation of a More Comprehensive Theory of Life. Philadelphia: Lea and Blanchard, 1868). Perhaps he was sure that had seen the truth, but, for some reason, could not put it across. Meanwhile, it alone was capable of opening people’s eyes and giving them a sense of happiness.
After protracted contemplations, Coleridge decided to reach the public by aid of a periodical. And he began to publish one named “Watchman” where both poetry and prose were placed. Coleridge took as its motto the words alluding to the well-known lines of the Scripture: “that all might to know the truth, and that the truth might make us free”. However, his hopes were scarcely to come through the gate of ivory.
The readership got thus much tired out with the profound substance of what was published in “Watchman” that each next issue provoked nothing but disgust. And Coleridge had to put an end to this business after the ninth issue, that is, after two months. It became plain that the periodical is unsaleable.
The enlightenment occurred after a facetious incident. Waken up one morning earlier than usual, Coleridge noticed his servant girl putting a huge armful of papers into the grate to start a fire. Astonished, he mildly reproached her for wastefulness. “No harm in that, Sir”, she retorted resentfully, “it’s barely Watchmen.”
Some of the contemporaries thought the blame to be put on the Coleridge’s irrepressible yearn for order and punctuality or his stodgy philosophical designs – bedrowsing and boring. But in reality, the matters stood much more seriously. He dug into an insensate and, at the same time, unfeasible business.
People need no truth; they prefer truthlikeness. For, as distinct from truth which demands that the minds be checked up by it, truthlikeness adjusts reality itself to the minds. On the other hand, the one having known a great truth has gone far ahead of those around him and possesses no language to bring it home to them. However his revelations may be expounded they would seem to be mystic hallucinations, if not outright ravings not worth discussion. Their genuine meaning will be uncovered by far later. But, unfortunately, neither the pioneer nor his scoffers will live so long to see that.