[Footnote 35: This title is given by the editor. There is none in the
original MS.--ED.]
* * * * *
_Wednesday, November 7th._--On a damp and gloomy morning we set forward,
William on foot, and I upon the pony, with William's greatcoat slung
over the saddle crutch, and a wallet containing our bundle of
"needments." As we went along the mist gathered upon the valleys, and it
even rained all the way to the head of Patterdale; but there was never a
drop upon my habit larger than the smallest pearls upon a lady's ring.
The trees of the larger island upon Rydale Lake were of the most
gorgeous colours; the whole island reflected in the water, as I remember
once in particular to have seen it with dear Coleridge, when either he
or William observed that the rocky shore, spotted and streaked with
purplish brown heath, and its image in the water, together were like an
immense caterpillar, such as, when we were children, we used to call
_Woolly Boys_, from their hairy coats.... As the mist thickened, our
enjoyments increased, and my hopes grew bolder; and when we were at the
top of Kirkstone (though we could not see fifty yards before us) we were
as happy travellers as ever paced side by side on a holiday ramble. At
such a time and in such a place every scattered stone the size of one's
head becomes a companion. There is a fragment of an old wall at the top
of Kirkstone, which, magnified yet obscured as it was by the mist, was
scarcely less interesting to us when we cast our eyes upon it, than the
view of a noble monument of ancient grandeur has been--yet this same
pile of stones we had never before observed. When we had descended
considerably, the fields of Hartsop, below Brotherswater, were first
seen like a lake, coloured by the reflection of yellow clouds. I mistook
them for the water; but soon after we saw the lake itself gleaming
faintly with a grey, steely brightness; then appeared the brown oaks,
and the birches of splendid colour, and, when we came still nearer to
the valley, the cottages under their tufts of trees and the old Hall of
Hartsop with its long irregular front and elegant chimneys....
_Thursday, November 8th._--Incessant rain till eleven o'clock, when it
became fair, and William and I walked to Blowick. Luff joined us by the
way. The wind was strong, and drove the clouds forward along the side of
the hill above our heads; four or five goats were bounding among the
rocks; the sheep moved about more quietly, or cowered in their
sheltering-places. The two storm-stiffened black yew-trees on the crag
above Luff's house were striking objects, close under or seen through
the flying mists.... When we stood upon the naked crag upon the common,
overlooking the woods and bush-besprinkled fields of Blowick, the lake,
clouds, and mists were all in motion to the sound of sweeping winds--the
church and cottages of Patterdale scarcely visible from the brightness
of the thin mist. Looking backwards towards the foot of the water, the
scene less visionary. Place Fell steady and bold as a lion; the whole
lake driving down like a great river, waves dancing round the small
islands. We walked to the house. The owner was salving sheep in the
barn; an appearance of poverty and decay everywhere. He asked us if we
wanted to purchase the estate. We could not but stop frequently, both
in going and returning, to look at the exquisite beauty of the woods
opposite. The general colour of the trees was dark-brown, rather that of
ripe hazel-nuts; but towards the water there were yet beds of green, and
in some of the hollow places in the highest part of the woods the trees
were of a yellow colour, and through the glittering light they looked
like masses of clouds as you see them gathered together in the west, and
tinged with the golden light of the sun. After dinner we walked with
Mrs. Luff up the vale; I had never had an idea of the extent and width
of it, in passing through along the road, on the other side. We walked
along the path which leads from house to house; two or three times it
took us through some of those copses or groves that cover every little
hillock in the middle of the lower part of the vale, making an intricate
and beautiful intermixture of lawn and woodland. We left William to
prolong his walk, and when he came into the house he told us that he had
pitched upon the spot where he should like to build a house better than
in any other he had ever yet seen. Mrs. Luff went with him by moonlight
to view it. The vale looked as if it were filled with white light when
the moon had climbed up to the middle of the sky; but long before we
could see her face a while all the eastern hills were in black shade,
those on the opposite side were almost as bright as snow. Mrs. Luff's
large white dog lay in the moonshine upon the round knoll under the old
yew-tree, a beautiful and romantic image--the dark tree with its dark
shadow, and the elegant creature as fair as a spirit.
_Friday, November 9th._--It rained till near ten o'clock; but a little
after that time, it being likely for a tolerably fine day, we packed up,
and with Luff's servant to help to row, set forward in the boat. As we
proceeded the day grew finer, clouds and sunny gleams on the mountains.
In a grand bay under Place Fell we saw three fishermen with a boat
dragging a net, and rowed up to them. They had just brought the net
ashore, and hundreds of fish were leaping in their prison. They were all
of one kind, what are called Skellies. After we had left them the
fishermen continued their work, a picturesque group under the lofty and
bare crags; the whole scene was very grand, a raven croaking on the
mountain above our heads. Landed at Sanwick, the man took the boat home,
and we pursued our journey towards the village along a beautiful summer
path, at first through a copse by the lake-side, then through green
fields. The village and brook very pretty, shut out from mountains and
lake; it reminded me of Somersetshire. Passed by Harry Hebson's house; I
longed to go in for the sake of former times. William went up one side
of the vale, and we the other, and he joined us after having crossed the
one-arched bridge above the church; a beautiful view of the church with
its "base ring of mossy wall" and single yew-tree. At the last house in
the vale we were kindly greeted by the master.... We were well prepared
to face the mountain, which we began to climb almost immediately.
Martindale divides itself into two dales at the head. In one of these
(that to the left) there is no house to be seen, nor any building but a
cattle-shed on the side of a hill which is sprinkled over with wood,
evidently the remains of a forest, formerly a very extensive one. At the
bottom of the other valley is the house of which I have spoken, and
beyond the enclosures of this man's farm there are no other. A few old
trees remain, relics of the forest; a little stream passes in serpentine
windings through the uncultivated valley, where many cattle were
feeding. The cattle of this country are generally white or
light-coloured; but those were mostly dark-brown or black, which made
the scene resemble many parts of Scotland. When we sat on the hillside,
though we were well contented with the quiet everyday sounds, the lowing
of cattle, bleating of sheep, and the very gentle murmuring of the
valley stream, yet we could not but think what a grand effect the sound
of the bugle-horn would have among these mountains. It is still heard
once a year at the chase--a day of festivity for all the inhabitants of
the district, except the poor deer, the most ancient of them all. The
ascent, even to the top of the mountain, is very easy. When we had
accomplished it we had some exceedingly fine mountain views, some of the
mountains being resplendent with sunshine, others partly hidden by
clouds. Ulswater was of a dazzling brightness bordered by black hills,
the plain beyond Penrith smooth and bright (or rather _gleamy_) as the
sea or sea-sands. Looked into Boar Dale above Sanwick--deep and bare, a
stream winding down it. After having walked a considerable way on the
tops of the hills, came in view of Glenridding and the mountains above
Grisdale. Luff then took us aside, before we had begun to descend, to a
small ruin, which was formerly a chapel or place of worship where the
inhabitants of Martindale and Patterdale were accustomed to meet on
Sundays. There are now no traces by which you could discover that the
building had been different from a common sheepfold; the loose stones
and the few which yet remain piled up are the same as those which lie
about on the mountain; but the shape of the building being oblong is not
that of a common sheepfold, and it stands east and west. Whether it was
ever consecrated ground or not I know not; but the place may be kept
holy in the memory of some now living in Patterdale; for it was the
means of preserving the life of a poor old man last summer, who, having
gone up the mountain to gather peats, had been overtaken by a storm, and
could not find his way down again. He happened to be near the remains of
the old chapel, and, in a corner of it, he contrived, by laying turf and
ling and stones from one wall to the other, to make a shelter from the
wind, and there he lay all night. The woman who had sent him on his
errand began to grow uneasy towards night, and the neighbours went out
to seek him. At that time the old man had housed himself in his nest,
and he heard the voices of the men, but could not make _them_ hear, the
wind being so loud, and he was afraid to leave the spot lest he should
not be able to find it again, so he remained there all night; and they
returned to their homes, giving him up for lost; but the next morning
the same persons discovered him huddled up in the sheltered nook. He was
at first stupefied and unable to move; but after he had eaten and drunk,
and recollected himself a little, he walked down the mountain, and did
not afterwards seem to have suffered.[36] As we descend, the vale of
Patterdale appears very simple and grand, with its two heads, Deep Dale,
and Brotherswater or Hartsop. It is remarkable that two pairs of
brothers should have been drowned in that lake. There is a tradition, at
least, that it took its name from two who were drowned there many years
ago, and it is a fact that two others did meet that melancholy fate
about twenty years since....
[Footnote 36: Compare the account given of this incident in _The
Excursion_, towards the close of book ii.; also in the Fenwick note to
_The Excursion_.--ED.]
_Saturday, November 10th._--A beautiful morning. When we were at
breakfast we heard suddenly the tidings of Lord Nelson's death and the
victory of Trafalgar. Went to the inn to make further inquiries.
Returned by William's rock and grove, and were so much pleased with the
spot that William determined to buy it if possible, therefore we
prepared to set off to Parkhouse that William might apply to Thomas
Wilkinson to negotiate for him with the owner. We went down that side of
the lake opposite to Stybarrow Crag. I dismounted, and we sat some time
under the same rock as before, above Blowick. Owing to the brightness of
the sunshine the church and other buildings were even more concealed
from us than by the mists the other day. It had been a sharp frost in
the night, and the grass and trees were yet wet. We observed the
lemon-coloured leaves of the birches in the wood below, as the wind
turned them to the sun, sparkle, or rather flash, like diamonds. The day
continued unclouded to the end.
_Monday, November 12th._--The morning being fine, we resolved to go to
Lowther.... Crossed the ford at Yanworth. Found Thomas Wilkinson at work
in one of his fields; he cheerfully laid down the spade and walked by
our side with William. We left our horses at the mill below Brougham,
and walked through the woods till we came to the quarry, where the road
ends--the very place which has been the boundary of some of the happiest
of the walks of my youth. The sun did not shine when we were there, and
it was mid-day; therefore, if it had shone, the light could not have
been the same; yet so vividly did I call to mind those walks, that, when
I was in the wood, I almost seemed to see the same rich light of evening
upon the trees which I had seen in those happy hours....
_Tuesday, November 13th._--A very wet morning; no hope of being able to
return home. William read in a book lent him by Thomas Wilkinson. I read
_Castle Rackrent_. The day cleared at one o'clock, and after dinner, at
a little before three, we set forward.... Before we reached Ullswater
the sun shone, and only a few scattered clouds remained on the hills,
except at the tops of the very highest. The lake perfectly calm. We had
a delightful journey.... The trees in Gowborough Park were very
beautiful, the hawthorns leafless, their round heads covered with rich
red berries, and adorned with arches of green brambles; and eglantine
hung with glossy hips; many birches yet tricked out in full foliage of
bright yellow; oaks brown or leafless; the smooth branches of the ashes
bare; most of the alders green as in spring. At the end of Gowborough
Park a large troop of deer were moving slowly, or standing still, among
the fern. I was grieved when our companions startled them with a
whistle, disturbing a beautiful image of grave simplicity and thoughtful
enjoyment, for I could have fancied that even they were partaking with
me a sensation of the solemnity of the closing day. I think I have more
pleasure in looking at deer than any other animals, perhaps chiefly from
their living in a more natural state. The sun had been set some time,
though we could only just perceive that the daylight was partly gone,
and the lake was more brilliant than before.... A delightful evening;
the Seven Stars close to the hill-tops in Patterdale; all the stars
seemed brighter than usual. The steeps were reflected in Brotherswater,
and above the lake appeared like enormous black perpendicular walls. The
torrents of Kirkstone had been swollen by the rains, and filled the
mountain pass with their roaring, which added greatly to the solemnity
of our walk. The stars in succession took their stations on the
mountain-tops. Behind us, when we had climbed very high, we saw one
light in the vale at a great distance, like a large star, a solitary
one, in the gloomy region. All the cheerfulness of the scene was in the
sky above us....[37]
[Footnote 37: A curious _recast_ of this journal by his sister was
published by Wordsworth, in his _Description of the Scenery of the
Lakes_.--ED.]