1888.] on S. T. Coleridge. 211 



An experienced person La> said, " Do not marrj a man of genius." 

 I have no personal interest in that qntsticn, nor will I express any 

 opinion upon it. bnt one is inclined to siy, Don't be his brother-in- 

 law, or his publisher, or his editor, or anything that is his if you care 

 twopence — it is probably an excessive valuation — for the opinion of 

 postliumous critics. 



But, again, I would avoid moi-alising. I only ask what is the 

 true inference as to Coleridge's character. And that consideration 

 may bring us back to less painful reflections. It is preposterous to 

 maintain the thesis that Coleridge was the kind of person to be held 

 up as a pattern to young men about to marry. Opium had ruined 

 the power of will, never very strong, and any capacity he may have 

 liad — and his versa rility was perhaps incompatible with any great 

 capacity — for concentration on a great task. The consequences of 

 such indulgence had ruined his home life, and all but ruined his 

 intellectual career. But there is also this to be said, that at his 

 worst Coleridge was both loved and eminently lovable. His failings 

 excited far more compassion than indignation. The " pity of it ' 

 expresses the sentiment of all eye-witnesses. He was always full of 

 kindly feelings, never soured into cynicism. The stran ^e power of 

 fascination which he had shown in his poetic youth never deserted 

 Lim. As De Quincey has said : " Beyond all men wbo ever perhaps 

 have lived, he found means to engage a constant succession of most 

 faithful friends. He received the 'services of sisters, brothers, 

 daughters, sons, from the hands of strangers, attracted to him by no 

 possible impulses but those of reverence for his intellect and love for 

 his gracious nature. Perpetual relays were laid aloncj his path in 

 life of zealous and judicious supporters." Whenever Coleridze was 

 at his lowest, some one was ready to help him. Poole, and Lloyd, 

 and Wedgwood, and De Quincey, had come forward in their turn. 

 Through the dismal ye^irs of degradation which preceded his final 

 refuge at Gillman's, the faithful Morgans had made him a home ; 

 tried to break off his bad habits, and enabled him to carry on the 

 almost hopeless struggle. When Morgan himself became bankrupt, 

 it is pleasant to knuw that Coleridge, among whose faults pecuniary 

 meanness had i o place, gave what he could — and far more than he 



I could really spaie — to help his < Id friend. When he delivered his 

 I lectures or poured out a i amazing monologue at Lamb's suppers, or 

 \ in Godwin's shop, yotmg men, at the age of hero-worship, were already 

 i prepared not only to wonder at the iutellectual display, but to feel 

 their hearts war.red by the real goodness shining through the shattered 

 and imperfectly transparent vessel. Coleridge's letters may reveal 

 Bome part of this charm, though some part, too, of the drawback. 

 His long involved sentences, compared by himself to a Surinam toad 

 with a brood of little toads escaping from his back, wind about in 

 something between a spoken reverie and a sympathetic effusion of 

 confidential confessions. When they touch the practical, e. ^ . 

 publishers' accounts, they are apt to become hopelessly uninteUi^Hble. 



