[274] See our Index, under Shelley, G.

(l) FROM ’LETTERS, EMBRACING HIS LIFE, OF JOHN JAMES TAYLER, B.A., PROFESSOR OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY AND BIBLICAL THEOLOGY, AND PRINCIPAL OF MANCHESTER NEW COLLEGE.  LONDON, 1872’ (TWO VOLS. 8vo).

Spring Cottage, Loughrigg, Ambleside, July 26. 1826.

Rydal, where we now are, has an air of repose and seclusion which I have rarely seen surpassed; the first few days we were here we perfectly luxuriated in the purity and sweetness of the air and the delicious stillness of its pastures and woods.  It is interesting, too, on another account, as being the residence of the poet Wordsworth:  his house is about a quarter of a mile from ours; and since Osler joined us we have obtained an introduction to him, and he favoured us with his company at tea one evening last week.  He is a very interesting man, remarkably simple in his manners, full of enthusiasm and eloquence in conversation, especially on the subject of his favourite art—­poetry—­which he seems to have studied in a very philosophical spirit, and about which he entertains some peculiar opinions.  Spenser, Shakspeare, and Milton are his favourites among the English poets, especially the latter, whom he almost idolises.  He expressed one opinion which rather surprised me, and in which I could not concur—­that he preferred the ‘Samson Agonistes’ to ‘Comus.’  He recited in vindication of his judgment one very fine passage from the former poem, and in a very striking manner; his voice is deep and pathetic, and thrills with feeling.  He is Toryish—­at least what would he considered so—­in his political principles, though he disclaims all connection with party, and certainly argues with great fairness and temper on controverted topics, such as Parliamentary Reform and Catholic Emancipation.  We took a long walk with him the other evening, to the scene of one of his Pastorals in the neighbourhood of Grasmere.  He has a good deal of general conversation, and has more the manners of a man of the world than I should have expected from his poems; but his discourse indicates great simplicity and purity of mind; indeed, nothing renders his conversation more interesting than the unaffected tone of elevated morality and devotion which pervades it.  We have been reading his long poem, the ‘Excursion,’ since we came here.  I particularly recommend it to your notice, barring some few extra vagancies into which his peculiar theory has led him:  his fourth book, the last, contains specimens both of versification, sentiment, and imagery, scarcely inferior to what you will find in the best passages of Milton.  He spoke with great plainness, and yet with candour, of his contemporaries.  He admitted the power of Byron in describing the workings of human passion, but denied that he knew anything of the beauties of Nature, or succeeded in describing them with fidelity.  This he illustrated by examples.  He spoke with deserved severity of Byron’s licentiousness and contempt of religious decorum.  He told us he thought the greatest of modern geniuses, had he given his powers a proper direction, and one decidedly superior to Byron, was Shelley, a young man, author of ‘Queen Mab,’ who died lately at Rome. (Vol. i. pp. 72-4.)