Staël. CHAP. XIII. you let him attack, his bite is mortal. Some years 1810. after this, when I saw Madame de Staël in London, I Madame de asked her what she thought of him: she replied, “He is very great in monologue, but he has no idea of dialogue." This I repeated, and it appeared in the Quarterly Review. Flaxman. Miss Flax man. It was at the very close of the year that I made an acquaintance which afforded me unqualified satisfaction, except as all enjoyments that are transient are followed by sorrow when they are terminated. This new acquaintance was the great sculptor, John Flaxman. Having learned from Rough that my German acquaintance, Miss Flaxman, had returned, and was living with her brother, I called on her to make my apologies for neglecting to deliver my letter to Rough. She received them, not with undignified indifference, but with great good-nature. On this occasion I was introduced to Mrs. Flaxman, a shrewd lively talkative woman, and received an invitation to spend the last night of the year with them. The whole day was interesting. I find from my pocket-book that I transTranslat- lated in the forenoon a portion of Goethe's "Sammler Goethe. und die Seinigen," which I never ended, because I could not invent English comic words to express the abuses arising from one-sidedness in the several schools of Mrs. Bar- painting. In the afternoon I sat with Mrs. Barbauld, still in all the beauty of her fine taste, correct underParty at standing, as well as pure integrity; and, in the evening, I was one of a merry party at Flaxman's. But this evening I saw merely the good-humoured, even frolic ing from bauld. Flaxman's. 1810. some, kind-hearted man. Every sportive word and CHAP. XIII. action of Flaxman's was enhanced by his grotesque figure. He had an intelligent and benignant countenance, but he was short and hump-backed, so that in his laughter it often seemed as if he were mocking himself. There were the Roughs and a few others, enough to fill two very small rooms (No. 7, Buckingham Street, which Flaxman bought when he settled in London on his return from Italy, and in which he died). He introduced to me a lively, rather short, and stout girl, whom he called his "daughter Ellen." I took him literally, and said I thought he had no child. "Only in one way she is my daughter. Her other father, there, is Mr. Porden, the architect." This same Ellen Porden became ultimately the wife of Captain Franklin, the North Pole voyager. He It was also in this year that I became acquainted Manning. with Manning, then a special pleader, now, perhaps, the most learned man at the bar, serjeant or barrister. was the son of a well-known Arian divine at Exeter, and he has had the manliness and integrity never to be ashamed of Dissent. I ought not to omit the circumstance that I kept four terms this year. H. C. R. TO MISS WORDSWORTH. 56, Hatton Garden, Dec. 23rd, 1810. My Dear Madam, I have postponed answering your * The Queen's Ancient Serjeant, who died in 1866. In early life Manning devoted himself for a year and a half to agriculture. Afterwards he went to Germany for a year, to learn the language, in order to fit himself for mercantile pursuits. Finally he fixed on the law as a profession. 316 Letter to Miss Wordsworth. CHAP. XIII. acceptable letter till I could speak to you concerning 1810. Charles and Coleridge. H. C. R.'s love of Spain. our common friends, the Lambs. Mary, I am glad to say, is just now very comfortable. But I hear she has been in a feeble and tottering condition. She has put herself under Dr. Tuthill, who has prescribed water. Charles, in consequence, resolved to accommodate himself to her, and since lord mayor's day has abstained from all other liquor, as well as from smoking. We shall all rejoice, indeed, if this experiment succeeds. Who knows but that this promising resolution may have been strengthened by the presence of Coleridge? I have spent several evenings with your friend. I say a great deal when I declare that he has not sunk below my expectations, for they were never raised so before by the fame of any man. He appears to be quite well, and if the admiration he excites in me be mingled with any sentiments of compassion, this latter feeling proceeds rather from what I have heard, than from what I have seen. He has more eloquence than any man I ever saw, except perhaps Curran, the Irish orator, who possesses in a very high degree the only excellence which Coleridge wants, to be a perfect parlour orator, viz. short sentences. Coleridge cannot converse. He addresses himself to his hearers. At the same time, he is a much better listener than I expected. Your kind invitation to the Lakes is most welcome. If I do not embrace the offer, be assured it is not from want of a strong desire to do so. I wish for no journey so much, except, indeed, another voyage to Spain. My admiration, my love, and anxious care con Making Verbs. 1810. 317 tinue to be fixed on that country; and I have no CHAP. XIII. doubt that if my hopes are not so lofty as those your brother cherishes, it is only because I am myself not so lofty. Coleridge spent an afternoon with us on Sunday. He was delightful. Charles Lamb was unwell, and could not join us. His change of habit, though it on the whole improves his health, yet when he is lowspirited leaves him without a remedy or relief. * To Mr. Wordsworth my best remembrances. We want unprofaned and unprostituted words to express the kind of feeling I entertain towards him. Believe me, &c. &c. H. C. R. P.S. I was interested in your account of the children, and their reception of you; but it is not only mountainchildren that make verbs. I heard an Essex child of seven say lately, in delight at a fierce torrent of rain, "How it is storming!" The same boy had just before said, "I love to see it roaring and pouring." I have more than once remarked the elements of poetic sense in him. Diary. C. Lamb's opinion of Kchama. This relieves me Hitherto I have THIS year I began to keep a Diary. Fanuary 8th.-Spent part of the evening with Charles Lamb (unwell) and his sister. He had just read the "Curse of Kehama," which he said he liked better than any of Southey's long poems. The descriptions he thought beautiful, particularly the finding of Kailyal by Ereenia. He liked the opening, and part of the description of hell; but, after all, he was not made happier by reading the poem. There is too much trick in it. The three statues and the vacant space for Kehama resemble a pantomime scene; and the love is ill managed. On the whole, however, Charles Lamb thinks the poem infinitely superior to "Thalaba." * Henceforward selections will be given from the Diary, with additions from the Reminiscences. These additions will be marked [Rem.], and the year in which they were written will be stated at the foot of the page. |