GARDENS OF CELEBRITIES 
her in the memoirs of his family—wearing the lace cap that in 
those days even the youngest matron wore—dropped her work, 
and came forward to receive him. So great was the poet’s tact 
and savoir-faire—that there seems to have been neither constraint 
nor awkwardness on either side. They met as old friends rather 
than as strangers; Dr. Gillman says, ‘“‘ Coleridge took his seat ; 
his manner, his appearance, and above all, his conversation, were 
captivating ; we listened with delight.”” So much at ease were 
hosts and guests, that, on the first pause, the visitor before men- 
tioned, who had not been there long, rose to go, under the im- 
pression that he was witnessing the reunion of long-parted friends. 
Such a successful meeting between total strangers with none 
present to introduce them and bring forward topics of common 
interest—would even under ordinary circumstances, speak well 
for the native courtesy of the hosts, and the utter freedom from 
self-consciousness of the newcomer: it was nothing less than 
wonderful when we remember what were the actual conditions 
under which it took place, and the deep emotions that (under- 
lying their calm exterior) must have been stirring in the breasts 
of at least two of the actors in the silently-tragical drama: but 
the poet had come in his life to the parting of the ways, had made 
a stern and heroic resolve ; and the physician was a man of subtle 
Sympathy and insight. He beheld in his new patient a dis- 
appointed and saddened man of genius; whose magnificent 
poetry and prose works, had met with small success ; who, conscious 
of his own powers—paralysed as they were by slavery to the drug 
—after receiving an unprofessional and cruel opinion warning 
him that to discontinue it would be fatal, yet at the same time 
telling him the consequences of persistence in its use—had braced 
himself to come to him to cure him. 
In a pathetic letter written next day, Coleridge urges the doctor 
to watch him closely, for though he could not bring himself to 
speak an untruth, he might be tempted to act one. ‘‘ Not sixty 
hours,” he said, “ have yet passed without my taking laudanum 
. .. for the first week I shall not, must not, be permitted to 
leave your house unless with you. Delicately or indelicately, this 
must be done, and both the servants and assistants must receive 
absolute command from you. The stimulus of conversation 
suspends the terror that haunts my mind, but when I am alone, 
242 
