Specimens of the Table Talk of S.T.Coleridge | Page 3

experiment, probing the depths of your consciousness,
and revealing visions of glory and of terror to the imagination; but
pouring withal such floods of light upon the mind, that you might, for a
season, like Paul, become blind in the very act of conversion. And this
he would do, without so much as one allusion to himself, without a
word of reflection on others, save when any given act fell naturally in
the way of his discourse,--without one anecdote that was not proof and
illustration of a previous position;--gratifying no passion, indulging no
caprice, but, with a calm mastery over your soul, leading you onward
and onward for ever through a thousand windings, yet with no pause, to
some magnificent point in which, as in a focus, all the party-coloured
rays of his discourse should converge in light. In all this he was, in
truth, your teacher and guide; but in a little while you might forget that

he was other than a fellow student and the companion of your way,--so
playful was his manner, so simple his language, so affectionate the
glance of his pleasant eye!
There were, indeed, some whom Coleridge tired, and some whom he
sent asleep. It would occasionally so happen, when the abstruser mood
was strong upon him, and the visiter was narrow and ungenial. I have
seen him at times when you could not incarnate him,--when he shook
aside your petty questions or doubts, and burst with some impatience
through the obstacles of common conversation. Then, escaped from the
flesh, he would soar upwards into an atmosphere almost too rare to
breathe, but which seemed proper to him, and there he would float at
ease. Like enough, what Coleridge then said, his subtlest listener would
not understand as a man understands a newspaper; but upon such a
listener there would steal an influence, and an impression, and a
sympathy; there would be a gradual attempering of his body and spirit,
till his total being vibrated with one pulse alone, and thought became
merged in contemplation;--
And so, his senses gradually wrapt In a half sleep, he'd dream of better
worlds, And dreaming hear thee still, O singing lark, That sangest like
an angel in the clouds!
But it would be a great mistake to suppose that the general character of
Mr. Coleridge's conversation was abstruse or rhapsodical. The contents
of the following pages may, I think, be taken as pretty strong
presumptive evidence that his ordinary manner was plain and direct
enough; and even when, as sometimes happened, he seemed to ramble
from the road, and to lose himself in a wilderness of digressions, the
truth was, that at that very time he was working out his fore-known
conclusion through an almost miraculous logic, the difficulty of which
consisted precisely in the very fact of its minuteness and universality.
He took so large a scope, that, if he was interrupted before he got to the
end, he appeared to have been talking without an object; although,
perhaps, a few steps more would have brought you to a point, a
retrospect from which would show you the pertinence of all he had
been saying. I have heard persons complain that they could get no
answer to a question from Coleridge. The truth is, he answered, or
meant to answer, so fully that the querist should have no second
question to ask. In nine cases out of ten he saw the question was short

or misdirected; and knew that a mere yes or no answer could not
embrace the truth--that is, the whole truth--and might, very probably,
by implication, convey error. Hence that exhaustive, cyclical mode of
discoursing in which he frequently indulged; unfit, indeed, for a dinner-
table, and too long-breathed for the patience of a chance visiter,--but
which, to those who knew for what they came, was the object of their
profoundest admiration, as it was the source of their most valuable
instruction. Mr. Coleridge's affectionate disciples learned their lessons
of philosophy and criticism from his own mouth. He was to them as an
old master of the Academy or Lyceum. The more time he took, the
better pleased were such visiters; for they came expressly to listen, and
had ample proof how truly he had declared, that whatever difficulties
he might feel, with pen in hand, in the expression of his meaning, he
never found the smallest hitch or impediment in the utterance of his
most subtle reasonings by word of mouth. How many a time and oft
have I felt his abtrusest thoughts steal rhythmically on my soul, when
chanted forth by him! Nay, how often have I fancied I heard rise up in
answer to his gentle touch, an interpreting music of my own, as from
the passive strings of some wind-smitten lyre!