[221] Of the exact date of Sterling’s first visit to Highgate there is no record. It may, however, be taken for granted that his intimacy with Coleridge began in 1828, when he was in his twenty-third year, and continued until the autumn of 1833,—perhaps lasted until Coleridge’s death. Unlike Maurice, and Maurice’s disciple, Kingsley, Sterling outlived his early enthusiasm for Coleridge and his acceptance of his teaching. It may be said, indeed, that, thanks to the genius of his second master, Carlyle, he suggests both the reaction against and the rejection of Coleridge. Of that rejection Carlyle, in his Life of Sterling, made himself the mouth-piece. It is idle to say of that marvellous but disillusioning presentment that it is untruthful, or exaggerated, or unkind. It is a sketch from the life, and who can doubt that it is lifelike? But other eyes saw another Coleridge who held them entranced. To them he was the seer of the vision beautiful, the “priest of invisible rites behind the veil of the senses,” and to their ears his voice was of one who brought good tidings of reconciliation and assurance. Many, too, who cared for none of these things, were attracted to the man. Like the wedding-guest in the Ancient Mariner, they stood still. No other, they felt, was so wise, so loveable. They, too, were eye-witnesses, and their portraiture has not been outpainted by Carlyle. Apart from any expression of opinion, it is worth while to note that Carlyle saw Coleridge for the last time in the spring of 1825, and that the Life of Sterling was composed more than a quarter of a century later. His opinion of the man had, indeed, changed but little, as the notes and letters of 1824-25 clearly testify, but his criticism of the writer was far less appreciative than it had been in Coleridge’s lifetime. The following extracts from a letter of Sterling to Gillman, dated “Hurstmonceaux, October 9, 1834,” are evidence that his feelings towards Coleridge were at that time those of a reverent disciple:—
“The Inscription [in Highgate Church] will forever be enough to put to shame the heartless vanity of a thousand such writers as the Opium Eater. As a portrait, or even as a hint for one, his papers seem to me worse than useless.
“If it is possible, I will certainly go to Highgate, and wait on Mrs. Gillman and yourself. I have travelled the road thither with keen and buoyant expectation, and returned with high and animating remembrances oftener than any other in England. Hereafter, too, it will not have lost its charm. There is not only all this world of recollection, but the dwelling of those who best knew and best loved his work.” Life of Sterling, 1871, pp. 46-54; Samuel Taylor Coleridge, a Narrative, by J. Dykes Campbell, pp. 259-261; British Museum, add. MS. 34,225, f. 194.
[222] The following unpublished lines were addressed by Coleridge to this young lady, a neighbour, I presume, and friend of the Gillmans. They must be among the last he ever wrote:—
ELISA.
Translation of Claudian.
Dulcia dona mihi tu mittis semper Elisa!
Sweet gifts to me thou sendest always, Elisa!
Et quicquid mittis, Thura putare decet.
And whatever thou sendest, Sabean odours to think it it behoves me.
The whole adapted from an epigram of Claudius by substituting Thura for mella, the original distich being in return for a Present of Honey.
Imitation.
Sweet Gift! and always doth Eliza send
Sweet Gifts and full of fragrance to her Friend.
Enough for Him to know they come from Her,
Whate’er she sends is Frankincense and Myrrh.
Another on the same subject by S. T. C. himself:—
Semper, Eliza! mihi tu suaveolentia donas:
Nam quicquid donas, te redolere puto.
Literal translation: Always, Eliza! to me things of sweet odour thou presentest. For whatever thou presentest, I fancy redolent of thyself.