Preacher

At sea, breakfast, Monday, April 9, 1804
Continued from earlier in the morning...

He was very nearly his old ebulient self, what with a new Person to charm, a new Woman to flirt with, to treat to Conundrums & Puns, but not only that--a new Being who could quote his own poetry to him--Well! He still suffered misgivings about Malta, but at least the voyage to Gibralter would be fine! He resumed talking.

He talked on forever (which somehow didn't interfere with his eating) ...

She wished him to talk on forever.

His genius had angelic wings, and fed on manna. His thoughts did not seem to come with labour and effort; but as if borne on the gusts of genius, and as if the wings of his imagination lifted him from off his feet. His voice rolled on the ear like the pealing organ, and its sound alone was the music of thought. His mind was clothed with wings; and raised on them, he lifted philosophy to heaven.

She saw the progress of human happiness and liberty in bright and never-ending succession, like the steps of Jacob's ladder, with airy shapes ascending and descending,

and with the voice of God at the top of the ladder. He launched into his subjects, like an eagle dallying with the wind. He made poetical and pastoral excursions.

She could not have been more delighted had she heard the music of the spheres. Poetry and Philosophy had met together, Truth and Genius had embraced.

He talked very familiarly, and agreeably, and glanced over a variety of subjects. In digressing, in dilating, in passing from subject to subject,

he appeared to float in air, to slide on ice.

He made the whole material universe look like a transparency of fine words. He recited part of the Mariner with a sonorous and musical voice. There was a chaunt to his recitation,

which acted as a spell on her.

His manner was full, animated, varied, dramatic.

On whatever question or author that she mentioned,

he was prepared to take up the theme with advantage--from Peter Abelard down to Thomas Moore, from the subtlest metaphysics to the politics of the Courier. A thousand subjects expanded, startling with their brilliancy or lost in endless obscurity.

(note)

[To STC trivia page]

Good Captain Findlay was charmed enough to join them for a while.

The Mate, 2 boys, 4 men, one sheep, 3 pigs, several Ducks & Chicken, 1 Dog, a Cat and 2 Kittens

apparently took no notice.

The other passengers, however, periodically glared across to them, not appreciating the disturbance.

The other passengers!--Two, a man and a woman, travelling as individuals. The Man a gross worldly minded fellow, not deficient in sense or judgment, but with a bright eye over a yellow purple face, inert to everything except Gain, eating & wine. The Woman, a Monopolist & patentee of flabby Flesh, who would have wanted elbow-room on Salisbury Plain. She was ``always thinking'' upon some little damned article of eating, yawning plaintively, complaining to her dining-companion that she was so unhappy there is nothing & nobody about to amuse her--it makes her so nervous. [This is STC's description--not my political incorrectness, of course ;-) --partly from page 412 in M. Lefebure, partly from STC's letter of April 6, 1804, to Sir George Beaumont, which he evidently ;-) wrote before Rosa came on board.]

Well! STC and Rosa had no choice but to plan to eat together always!

Continued after breakfast...
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