. He would
do a great deal for noodles, being sorry for them, and feeling quite sure that
they could have no power over him: he had thought of joining the Saint Simonians
when he was in Paris, in order to turn them against some of their own doctrines.
All his faults were marked by kindred traits, and were those of a man who had a
fine baritone, whose clothes hung well upon him, and who even in his ordinary
gestures had an air of inbred distinction. Where then lay the spots of
commonness? says a young lady enamoured of that careless grace. How could there
be any commonness in a man so well-bred, so ambitious of social distinction, so
generous and unusual in his views of social duty? As easily as there may be
stupidity in a man of genius if you take him unawares on the wrong subject, or
as many a man who has the best will to advance the social millennium might be
ill-inspired in imagining its lighter pleasures; unable to go beyond Offenbach's
music, or the brilliant punning in the last burlesque. Lydgate's spots of
commonness lay in the complexion of his prejudices, which, in spite of noble
intention and sympathy, were half of them such as are found in ordinary men of
the world: that distinction of mind which belonged to his intellectual ardour,
did not penetrate his feeling and judgment about furniture, or women, or the
desirability of its being known (without his telling) that he was better born
than other country surgeons. He did not mean to think of furniture at present;
but whenever he did so, it was to be feared that neither biology nor schemes of
reform would lift him above the vulgarity of feeling that there would be an
incompatibility in his furniture not being of the best.
    As to women, he had once already been drawn headlong by impetuous folly,
which he meant to be final, since marriage at some distant period would of
course not be impetuous. For those who want to be acquainted with Lydgate it
will be good to know what was that case of impetuous folly, for it may stand as
an example of the fitful swerving of passion to which he was prone, together
with the chivalrous kindness which helped to make him morally lovable. The story
can be told without many words. It happened when he was studying in Paris, and
just at the time when, over and above his other work, he was occupied with some
galvanic experiments. One evening, tired with his experimenting, and not being
able to elicit the facts he needed, he left his
