Kate Moss, allerweë bekend as ‘n ietwat kontroversiële model en sosiale vlinder, het die bewakers van kulturele erfenis en fatsoenlikheid onkant betrap nadat dit bekend gemaak is dat sy Samuel Coleridge se historiese huis, The Grove, in Highgate, Londen, vir die bedrag van 8 miljoen pond gekoop het.
Volgens The Guardian se berig het Coleridge dié huis in 1816 gekoop ten tye van sy stryd om van sy opium-verslawing ontslae te raak. Dr James Gillman, wat Coleridge hiermee gehelp het, het glo nie ver van The Grove gewoon nie. Coleridge was op dié tydstip “44 years old, battered and silver-haired, but still handsome and astonishingly eloquent. He carried with him the proof copy of his unpublished erotic poem Christabel‘. With a gentle reminder of his wilder days, his friend Charles Lamb described Coleridge as ‘an Arch Angel a little damaged’.”
Na alle waarskynlikheid is dit juis die romantiese idee van die ‘gekneusde engel’ waarby Kate Moss aanklank behoort te vind; afgesien van die wonderbaarlike uitsig op Hampstead Heath en Kenwood House, natuurlik. Coleridge het glo gereeld na hierdie huis (en uitsig) verwys as sy eie, private Xanadu.
Maar helaas, met die skoner geslag was Coledridge glo minder suksesvol: “Like a true Romantic, Coleridge was unusually sensitive to women. Despite – or because of – an unhappy marriage, he had a passionate if unfulfilled affair over 30 years with Sara Hutchinson, the sister-in-law of his great friend William Wordsworth. Many of his later poems were dedicated to Sara, including several written at The Grove.”
Draai Coleridge daarom moontlik in sy graf om met die skone Kate Moss wat nou die gange van sy heiligdom betree? Waarskynlik nié. Sy is immers ook ‘n engel in haar eie reg, soos die meegaande foto’s van getuig …
Nietemin, as leestoegif plaas ek ‘n uittreksel uit Deel I van die lang gedig “Chrisabel” onderaan. Die volledige gedig kan hier gelees word.
***
‘In the touch of this bosom there worketh a spell,
Which is lord of thy utterance, Christabel!
Thou knowest to-night, and wilt know to-morrow,
This mark of my shame, this seal of my sorrow;
But vainly thou warrest,
For this is alone in
Thy power to declare,
That in the dim forest
Thou heard’st a low moaning,
And found’st a bright lady, surpassingly fair:
And didst bring her home with thee, in love and in charity,
To shield her and shelter her from the damp air.’
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge (Uit: Chrisabel, Part I)