166 



POETRY AND POETS. 



" On the following morning, for 

 a wonder, Mr. Coleridge called for 

 me at the time he had appointed, 

 and we proceeded together in a 

 hack carriage to St. James's Place. 

 Mr. Eogers himself received us, 

 and as none of the other invited 

 guests had arrived, I had a favour- 

 able opportunity of observing the 

 venerable poet. 



" I had anticipated seeing what 

 is termed a plain face, but I had 

 not pictured to myself one so un- 

 poetical as Rogers'. Byron's lines 

 on it, ill-natured and uncalled for as 

 they were, were at least pictorially 

 true to nature. There was recently 

 published in the Pictorial Times, 

 or London Illustrated News, I for- 

 get which, a sketch of him, taken 

 at the National Gallery, in the act 

 of examining a painting. 



" That likeness is correct in every 

 respect. The sunken eye, shrivelled 

 nose, toothless jaws, and retracted 

 lips are to the life. But though 

 time has been busy with the poet's 

 mortal part, he has not interfered 

 with the jewel it contains. That 

 remains undimmed, and although 

 it emits fewer rays than of yore, 

 its capability of doing so is not de- 

 stroyed. 



" The poet is of middle stature, 

 and unbowed by age. Indeed, in 

 his motions he is, to use a common 

 but expressive figure, ' as brisk as 

 a boy.' Nothing on earth is more 

 delightful, I think, than a cheerful, 

 intelligent old man. And such is 

 Samuel Eogers. He, indeed, pos- 

 sesses all ' the pleasures of memory,' 

 ami has had the rare good fortune 

 to live and experience what he sang 

 about years and years ago. 



" His conversation was lively and 

 piquant, but did not exhibit any of 

 those sallies of wit which are so 

 often attributed to him in the news- 

 papers, under the head of ' Sam 

 Eogers' last,' &c. To Coleridge's 

 observations he was profoundly at- 

 tentive ; but the great conversa- 



tionalist was not in a very talking 

 humour, and I was rather glad of 

 it, as it gave me a better oppor- 

 tunity of using my eyes than I 

 should have had, had his words 

 fallen on my charmed ear. 



" Mr. Eogers received me very 

 kindly, without an introduction ; 

 for Coleridge, with his usual ab- 

 sence of mind, or rather utter dis- 

 regard of all the minor courtesies 

 and usages of society, neglected to 

 present me to Mr. Bogers, until the 

 latter looked very hard at me, and 

 I reminded Coleridge that he had 

 a companion. 



" What a magnificent room was 

 that library of Eogers' ! There 

 were paintings from the hands of 

 the best ancient and modern mas- 

 ters, in gorgeous frames ; portfolios 

 of the choicest and rarest prints ; 

 water-colour drawings, by every 

 artist of celebrity of past and pre- 

 sent times ; rare specimens of vert''. 

 which would have thrown the pro- 

 prietor of Strawberry Hill into a 

 very flutter of excitement ; busts, 

 some brown with age, and others 

 in all the brilliant modern white- 

 ness of Carrara marble; costly gems 

 and princely intaglios; books curious 

 in their old literal board covers, 

 with ancient silver clasps and ven- 

 erable letters ; manuscripts so pre- 

 cious from time, and in consequence 

 of the labour which had been be- 

 stowed on them by gray monks, in 

 solemn old cells, ages since, that 

 they were shrined in crystal cases. 



" There was a large piece of am- 

 ber, in which was a fly inclosed, 

 perfect and unmutilated, leaving 

 us to wonder how it got there, and 

 achieved its transparent immortal- 

 ity. Sidney Smith, once taking it up, 

 said, ' Perhaps it buzzed in Adam s 

 ear.' And there were vases of ex- 

 quisite form and workmanship 

 relics from Pompeii and from far 

 away Ind; and all so tastefully dis- 

 posed that no museum effect wa-? 

 produced, nor did any one oK 



