Litchfield enquirer., 1881-03-17
WHOLE, NO. .2..YI1

| matters which were of no interest to us (and ! even reading pieces in proof of his opinions thereon). had him to myself once or twice, in various parts of the garden walks, and tried hard to get something about Kant and Go. | from him, about treason" versus understand | ing" and the like, but in vain. Nothing came from him that was of use to me that day, or ] in fact any day. The sight and sound of a sage who was so venerated by those about me, and whomI too would willingly have vener- ated, but could not-this was all. Several times afterward, Montagu, on Coleridge's 'Thursday evening"" carried Irving and me cut, and returned blessing Heaven q not) for what he had received. Irving and walked out more than once on mornings too, and found the Dodona oracle humanly ready to act, but never to me, or Irving either sus- pect, explanatory of the question put. Good Irving strove always to think that he was get ting priceless wisdom out of this great man, but must have had his misgivings. Except by the Montagu-Irving channel, l at no time communicated with COleridge. I had never | on my own strength had much esteem for him, and found slowly in spite of myself that was | getting to have less and less.
 | soUTHEY
 l Carlyle thus describes a conversation with Southey at a dinner party; rH l t'.'Do you, know .DeQuincey2" 0he opium eater, whom I knew. to have lived in | Cumberland as his neighbor). 'Yes, ST." said Southey, with extraordinary anmosity, | ''aud if you have opportunity, I'll thank you to tell him he is one of the greatest scoundrels livingl" laughed lightly, said l had myself little acquaintance with the man, and could \ net wish to recommend myself by that mes- sage. Southeys face as l looked at it, was become of slate color, the eyes glancing, the attitude rigid, the figure altogether picture of Rhadamanthiue rage-that is, rage conscious l to itself of being just. He doubtless felt l would expect some explanation from him 'I have told Hartley Coleridge," said he "that he ought to take stroug eudgel, proceed straight to Edinburgh, and give De Quincey, publicly in the streets there, a sound beating -as calumniator, cowardy spy, traitor, base I betrayer of the hOspitable social hearth, for one thing" It appeared De Quincey was then, and for some time past, writing in | "Black woods Magazine" something of auto- biQgraphic nature, a series of papers on the "Lake" period of his life, merely for the sake of the highly needful tri1e of money, poer soul, and with no wish to be untrue q could believe), or hurt anybody, though not without his own bits of splenetc conviction, and to | which latter, in regard to Coleridge in particu- iar he had given more rein than was agreeable to parties concerned. In few minutes we let the topic drop, helping what could, and | u6 SceLlcu tO Ie6l aS II u6 udQ uOu6 h UJLI6 wrong and was bound to show himself more than usually amicable and social, especially with me, for the rest of the evening, which he did in effect; thougL quite forget the details, only that 1 had a good deal of talk with him, in the circle of the others; and had again l more than once te notice the singular readl- ness of the bushes; amiable red blush, beau- tiful like young girls, when you touched genially the pleasant theme; and serpent like nF k1,,ah (el nsa fnr Sn~ the rarer kind, though it did recur, toO) when you struck upon the opposite. All details of the evening, except that primary one, are clean gone; but the effect was interesting, pleasant ly stimulating and surprising. 1 said to my self, "How has this man contrived, with such @ nervous system, to keep alive for near sixty vears9 Now blushing under his gray hairs, rosy like maiden of fifteen now slaty al- most, like a rattlesnake or fiery serpent How has he not been torn to pieces long since, under such furious pulling this way and that He must have somewhere a great deal of methOdic virtue in him; 1 suppose too his heart is thoroughly honest, which helps con siderably !"
 WORDSWORTH.
 1 saw Wordsworth number of times, at dinner, in evening parties and we grew lit- tie more familiar, but without much increase of real intimacy or affection springing up be- tween us. He was willing to talk with me in a corner, in noisy, extensive circles, having weak eyes, and little loving the general bab. ble current in such places. Que evening, probably about thls time, got him upon the subject of great pOets who 1 thought might be admirable equally to us both but was rather mistaken, as gradually found. POpe's partial failure was prepared for; less for the narrowish limits visible in Milton and others. tried him with Burns, of whom he had sung tender recognition but Burns also turned out to be aelimited inferior creature any genius he had theme for ones pathos rather; even Shakespeare himself had his blind sides, his linitations gradually it became apparent to me that of transcendent unlimited there was, to this critic, probably but one specimen known, Wordsworth himself! He by no means said SO, or hinted so, in words but on the whole, it was all 1 gathered from him in this considerable tete-a-tete of ours; aud 1t was not ali agreeable conquest. New notion as to poetry or poet had not in the smallest degree got; but my insight into the depths of | Wordsworth's pride in himself had considerably augmented; and it did not increase my love of him though did not in the least hate 1t either, so quiet was it, SO fixed. unappealing, like dim old lichened crag on the wayside, the private meaning of which, in contrast with any public meaning it had. you recOg- niZed him with a kind of not wholly melan- choly grin. Carlyle was much struck with his criticisms. of the noted men of his time: Noted" and named, ought perhapsto say, rather than mote worthy ;" for in general 1 forget what men they were, and now remem- Der only the excellent sagacity, distinctness and credibility of Wordsworth's little biograph- ic portraitures of them Never, or never but once, had seen stronger intellect more luminona and uarooinua 0f iuci directed upon such survey of fellow-men and their contemporary journey through the world. A great deal of Wordsworth lay in the mode and tone of drawing, but you per- ceived it to be faithful, accurate and altogeth- CT life-like, though Wordsworthian.
 I 2i'N''ss DE QUNoEY.
 De Qulncey, whom wished to know, was reported to trenble at the thought of such thing, and did fly pale as ashes, poor little soul, the first time we actually met. He was pretty little creature, full of wire-drawn in- genuties, Bankrupt enthusiasms, bankrupt pride, with the finest silver-toned low voice and Dostselaborate gently winding courtesies and ingenuities in conversation. "What wouldn't one give to have him in box and take him out to talk !" That was Her criti- cisnpof him, and it was right good. A bright, ready and melodious talker but in the end an 2 ineonclusive and long winded. One of the, smallest man figures ever saw shaped like la pair of tongs, and hardly above five feet in all When he sate you would have taken him, by candelight, for the. ,beautlfullest lil- tie child; blue eyed, sparkling face, had there not been something, too, which said Eccoot Athis child has been in he'll" After leaving Edinburgh never saw him, hardly ever heard of him. His fate, owing to opium etc., was hard and sore, poor fine-strung weak creature, launched so into the literary career of ambf- ton and mother of dead dogs ia9s s4. iis ~. sss ot l1eJs ad SHELLEY. H7.sl .3 eser
 "To me also poor Shelley always was, and is, kind of ghastly object, colorless, pallio, without health or warmth or vgof the sound