Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1885-06-19


way. with instructive tact he touches
the right cord of association, and is sat
isiicd, as we also are. | should lind it
hard to explain the singular charm of his
diCtiOn, there is 50 much nicely of art
and purpose in It, whether for music or
meaning. Nor does it need any eXplnna-
ton, for we all feel it. The words seem
common words enough, but III the order
of them, III the choice, variety and posi-
ton of the vowel sounds they become mag
iCnl. The most decrepit VOcaOle in the
language throws away its crutcheS to
dance and sing ut his piping. ! cannot
think it II personal peculiarly, but mat
ter oi universal experience, that more
bits of Coleridge have imbibed themselves
III my memory than of any other poet
who delighted my youth--unless should
except the sonnets of Shakespeare. This
argues DerfectneSS OF expression. Let me
cite an example or two
The suns RIM dips, the stars rush out,
AT one stride comes the dark
with iur-heurd whisper, DER the sea,
ON shot the spectre bnrquc.
Or take this as bit of landscape
Beneath yon birch with silver bark
And DOuphs so pcndulOns and fair
The brook falls scattered down the rock,
And all is messy there.
1t is perfect little picture and so easily
done. But try to do something like it,.
Coleridge's words have the unashamed
nakednesS of Scripture, of the Eden of
dlctiOn ere the vOluble serpent had enter
ed it. This felicity of speech in COleridge' s
best verses is more remarkable because it
was an acquisition. His earlier poems are
apt to be turgid, and in his prose there is
too often II lauguOr of proluSeness, and
there are pages where he seems to be talk
| ing to himself and not to us, rs | have
heard Il guide do in tOtuOuS caverns of
the catacombs when he was doubtful if
he had not lost his way. But when his
genius runs freely and full in his prose,
the style, as he said of Pascal, is a gar
ment of light He knewa all our best prose
and knew the secret of its composition.
/ When he is well inspired, rs in his best
poetry he commonly Is he gives us the very
qulntesSenCe of perception, the clearly
cryStallized precipitation of all that is
most precious in the ferment of impress
sion after all the impertinent and obtru-
slve particulars have evaporated from the
memory. 1t is the pure visual ecstacy dis
engaged from the confused and confusing
material that gave it birth. 1t seems the
very beatitude of artlesS simplicity, and
is the most finished product of art, |
know nothing 50 perfect in its KIND since
Dante. | confess that | prefer The An
Gent Mariner to 'ChriStabel,' and fine as
that poem is in parts and tantallzing as it
is the suggestion of deeper meanings than
were ever there. The Ancient Mariner
/
label, fancy him saying, Go to, let us
write an imaginative poem 1t never
could be finished on those terms.
This Is not the time nor the place to pass
judgment on COleridge the man. Doubt
less it would have been happier for him
had he been endowed with the business
faculty that makes his friend Words
worth so almost irritatingly respectable.
But would it have been happier for us
We are here not to consider what Cole
ridge owed to himself, to his family, or
to the world, but what we owe to him.
Let us ut least not volunteer to draw his
fralties from their dread abode. Our
own are Il far more profitable subject of
contemplation. Let the man OF magma
tive temperament, who has never pro-
crastinated. who has made all that was
possible of his powers, cast the first stone.
| The cairn, think, will not be as tall as
Hectors's. With Coleridge | believe the
the opium to have been cOngenltal, and II
we may judge by many profoundly pa
thetic cry both in his poems and his let
tiers, h e answered grievously for his frail-
ties during the last thirty years of his
/ life. In an unpublished letter OF his he
says speaking of another, but certainly OF
himself An unfortunate man, enemy to
himself only, and like all of that charac-
ter, eXpatng his faults by suffering be
You'd what the severest judge Wnuld have
inflicted as their due punishment There
let us leave it, for nothingis more certain
than that our personal weaknesses exact
the utmost farthing of penalty from us
while we live. Even in the dilapidatiol
OF his powers, due chiefly, if you will, tc
his own unthrifty management of them
we might, making proper deductions, ap
ply to him what Mark Antony says of tn,
dead Caesar
He was the ruins OF the noblcst man
That ever lived III the tide of tunes.
Whatever may have been his faults ant
weaknesses, he was the man of all hi'
generation to whom we should most un
hcsitatingly allow the distinction of gen
ius-that is OF one automatically possessed
from time to time by some influence thai
made him better and greater than him
self If he lost himself too much in what
Mr.. Pater has admirably called impas
stoned contemplation he has at least lef
us such legacy as only genius, and gen
ius not always, can leave. 1t Is for thi:
that we pay him this homage of memory
He himself has said that
1t seems like stories from the land of spirit
If any man can obtain that which he merits
Or any merit that which he attains.
Both conditions are fulfilled to-day"
Imprisoned in Shipwrecked Vessel.
From the London Standard
One of the most extraordinary escapes
after shipwreck, was reported on May /
at Hull. On the previous day il keel boun,
from Grimsby to Leeds was driven agaus
a sandbank and capSAed, and it was sup
posed that all on bOard-the master, hi
wife and three children-had persisted.
On that morning about 10 O'Clock, thu
captain of a steam tug was passing tn
spot where the accident happened, anC
saw the keel floating bottom upward OF