_Tuesday, 4th May._--Though William went to bed nervous, and jaded in
the extreme, he rose refreshed. I wrote out _The Leech Gatherer_ for
him, which he had begun the night before, and of which he wrote several
stanzas in bed this morning. [They started to walk to Wytheburn.] It was
very hot.... We rested several times by the way,--read, and repeated
_The Leech Gatherer_.... We saw Coleridge on the Wytheburn side of the
water; he crossed the beck to us. Mr. Simpson was fishing there. William
and I ate luncheon, and then went on towards the waterfall. It is a
glorious wild solitude under that lofty purple crag. It stood upright by
itself; its own self, and its shadow below, one mass; all else was
sunshine. We went on further. A bird at the top of the crag was flying
round and round, and looked in thinness and transparency, shape and
motion like a moth.... We climbed the hill, but looked in vain for a
shade, except at the foot of the great waterfall. We came down, and
rested upon a moss-covered rock rising out of the bed of the river.
There we lay, ate our dinner, and stayed there till about four o'clock
or later. William and Coleridge repeated and read verses. I drank a
little brandy and water, and was in heaven. The stag's horn is very
beautiful and fresh, springing upon the fells; mountain ashes, green. We
drank tea at a farm house.... We parted from Coleridge at Sara's crag,
after having looked for the letters which C. carved in the morning. I
missed them all. William deepened the X with C.'s pen-knife. We sate
afterwards on the wall, seeing the sun go down, and the reflections in
the still water. C. looked well, and parted from us cheerfully, hopping
upon the side stones. On the Raise we met a woman with two little girls,
one in her arms, the other, about four years old, walking by her side, a
pretty little thing, but half-starved.... Young as she was, she walked
carefully with them. Alas, too young for such cares and such travels.
The mother, when we accosted her, told us how her husband had left her,
and gone off with another woman, and how she "_pursued_" them. Then her
fury kindled, and her eyes rolled about. She changed again to tears. She
was a Cockermouth woman, thirty years of age--a child at Cockermouth
when I was. I was moved, and gave her a shilling.... We had the crescent
moon with the "auld moon in her arms." We rested often, always upon the
bridges. Reached home at about ten o'clock.... We went soon to bed. I
repeated verses to William while he was in bed; he was soothed, and I
left him. "This is the spot" over and over again.
_Wednesday, 5th May._--A very fine morning, rather cooler than
yesterday. We planted three-fourths of the bower. I made bread. We sate
in the orchard. The thrush sang all day, as he always sings. I wrote to
the Hutchinsons, and to Coleridge. Packed off _Thalaba_. William had
kept off work till near bed-time, when we returned from our walk. Then
he began again, and went to bed very nervous. We walked in the twilight,
and walked till night came on. The moon had the old moon in her arms,
but not so plain to be seen as the night before. When we went to bed it
was a boat without the circle. I read _The Lover's Complaint_ to William
in bed, and left him composed.
_Thursday, 6th May._--A sweet morning. We have put the finishing stroke
to our bower, and here we are sitting in the orchard. It is one o'clock.
We are sitting upon a seat under the wall, which I found my brother
building up, when I came to him.... He had intended that it should have
been done before I came. It is a nice, cool, shady spot. The small birds
are singing, lambs bleating, cuckoos calling, the thrush sings by fits,
Thomas Ashburner's axe is going quietly (without passion) in the
orchard, hens are cackling, flies humming, the women talking together at
their doors, plum and pear trees are in blossom--apple trees
greenish--the opposite woods green, the crows are cawing, we have heard
ravens, the ash trees are in blossom, birds flying all about us, the
stitchwort is coming out, there is one budding lychnis, the primroses
are passing their prime, celandine, violets, and wood sorrel for ever
more, little geraniums and pansies on the wall. We walked in the evening
to Tail End, to inquire about hurdles for the orchard shed.... When we
came in we found a magazine, and review, and a letter from Coleridge,
verses to Hartley, and Sara H. We read the review, etc. The moon was a
perfect boat, a silver boat, when we were out in the evening. The birch
tree is all over green in _small_ leaf, more light and elegant than when
it is full out. It bent to the breezes, as if for the love of its own
delightful motions. Sloe-thorns and hawthorns in the hedges.
_Friday, 7th May._--William had slept uncommonly well, so, feeling
himself strong, he fell to work at _The Leech Gatherer_; he wrote hard
at it till dinner time, then he gave over, tired to death--he had
finished the poem. I was making Derwent's frocks. After dinner we sate
in the orchard. It was a thick, hazy, dull air. The thrush sang almost
continually; the little birds were more than usually busy with their
voices. The sparrows are now full fledged. The nest is so full that they
lie upon one another; they sit quietly in their nest with closed mouths.
I walked to Rydale after tea, which we drank by the kitchen fire. The
evening very dull; a terrible kind of threatening brightness at sunset
above Easedale. The sloe-thorn beautiful in the hedges, and in the wild
spots higher up among the hawthorns. No letters. William met me. He had
been digging in my absence, and cleaning the well. We walked up beyond
Lewthwaites. A very dull sky; coolish; crescent moon now and then. I had
a letter brought me from Mrs. Clarkson while we were walking in the
orchard. I observed the sorrel leaves opening at about nine o'clock.
William went to bed tired with thinking about a poem.
_Saturday Morning, 8th May._--We sowed the scarlet beans in the orchard,
and read _Henry V._ there. William lay on his back on the seat, and
wept.... After dinner William added one to the orchard steps.
_Sunday Morning, 9th May._--The air considerably colder to-day, but the
sun shone all day. William worked at _The Leech Gatherer_ almost
incessantly from morning till tea-time. I copied _The Leech Gatherer_
and other poems for Coleridge. I was oppressed and sick at heart, for he
wearied himself to death. After tea he wrote two stanzas in the manner
of Thomson's _Castle of Indolence_, and was tired out. Bad news of
Coleridge.
_Monday, 10th May._--A fine clear morning, but coldish. William is
still at work, though it is past ten o'clock; he will be tired out, I am
sure. My heart fails in me. He worked a little at odd things, but after
dinner he gave over. An affecting letter from Mary H. We sate in the
orchard before dinner.... I wrote to Mary H.... I wrote to Coleridge,
sent off reviews and poems. Went to bed at twelve o'clock. William did
not sleep till three o'clock.
_Tuesday, 11th May._--A cool air. William finished the stanzas about C.
and himself. He did not go out to-day. Miss Simpson came in to tea,
which was lucky enough, for it interrupted his labours. I walked with
her to Rydale. The evening cool; the moon only now and then to be seen;
the lake purple as we went; primroses still in abundance. William did
not meet me. He completely finished his poem, I finished Derwent's
frocks. We went to bed at twelve o'clock....
_Wednesday, 12th May._--A sunshiny, but coldish morning. We walked into
Easedale.... We brought home heckberry blossom, crab blossom, the
anemone nemorosa, marsh marigold, speedwell,--that beautiful blue one,
the colour of the blue-stone or glass used in jewellery--with the
beautiful pearl-like chives. Anemones are in abundance, and still the
dear dear primroses, violets in beds, pansies in abundance, and the
little celandine. I pulled a bunch of the taller celandine. Butterflies
of all colours. I often see some small ones of a pale purple lilac, or
emperor's eye colour, something of the colour of that large geranium
which grows by the lake side.... William pulled ivy with beautiful
berries. I put it over the chimney-piece. Sate in the orchard the hour
before dinner, coldish.... In the evening we were sitting at the table
writing, when we were roused by Coleridge's voice below. He had walked;
looked palish, but was not much tired. We sate up till one o'clock, all
together, then William went to bed, and I sate with C. in the
sitting-room (where he slept) till a quarter past two o'clock. Wrote to
M. H.
_Thursday, 13th May._--The day was very cold, with snow showers.
Coleridge had intended going in the morning to Keswick, but the cold and
showers hindered him. We went with him after tea as far as the
plantations by the roadside descending to Wytheburn. He did not look
well when we parted from him....
_Friday, 14th May._--A very cold morning--hail and snow showers all
day. We went to Brothers wood, intending to get plants, and to go along
the shore of the lake to the foot. We did go a part of the way, but
there was no pleasure in stepping along that difficult sauntering road
in this ungenial weather. We turned again, and walked backwards and
forwards in Brothers wood. William tired himself with seeking an epithet
for the cuckoo. I sate a while upon my last summer seat, the mossy
stone. William's, unoccupied, beside me, and the space between, where
Coleridge has so often lain. The oak trees are just putting forth yellow
knots of leaves. The ashes with their flowers passing away, and leaves
coming out; the blue hyacinth is not quite full blown; gowans are coming
out; marsh marigolds in full glory; the little star plant, a star
without a flower. We took home a great load of gowans, and planted them
about the orchard. After dinner, I worked bread, then came and mended
stockings beside William; he fell asleep. After tea I walked to Rydale
for letters. It was a strange night. The hills were covered over with a
slight covering of hail or snow, just so as to give them a hoary winter
look with the black rocks. The woods looked miserable, the coppices
green as grass, which looked quite unnatural, and they seemed half
shrivelled up, as if they shrank from the air. O, thought I! what a
beautiful thing God has made winter to be, by stripping the trees, and
letting us see their shapes and forms. What a freedom does it seem to
give to the storms! There were several new flowers out, but I had no
pleasure in looking at them. I walked as fast as I could back again with
my letter from S. H.... Met William at the top of White Moss.... Near
ten when we came in. William and Molly had dug the ground and planted
potatoes in my absence. We wrote to Coleridge; sent off bread and frocks
to the C.'s. Went to bed at half-past eleven. William very nervous.
After he was in bed, haunted with altering _The Rainbow_.
* * * * * *
_Saturday, 15th._--A very cold and cheerless morning. I sate mending
stockings all the morning. I read in Shakespeare. William lay very late
because he slept ill last night. It snowed this morning just like
Christmas. We had a melancholy letter from Coleridge at bedtime. It
distressed me very much, and I resolved upon going to Keswick the next
day.
(The following is written on the blotting-paper opposite this date:--)
S. T. Coleridge.
Dorothy Wordsworth. William Wordsworth.
Mary Hutchinson. Sara Hutchinson.
William. Coleridge. Mary.
Dorothy. Sara.
16th May
1802.
John Wordsworth.
_Sunday, 16th._--William was at work all the morning. I did not go to
Keswick. A sunny, cold, frosty day. A snowstorm at night. We were a good
while in the orchard in the morning.
_Monday, 17th May._--William was not well, he went with me to Wytheburn
water, and left me in a post-chaise. Hail showers, snow, and cold
attacked me. The people were graving peats under Nadel Fell. A lark and
thrush singing near Coleridge's house. Bancrofts there. A letter from M.
H.
_Tuesday, 18th May._--Terribly cold, Coleridge not well. Froude called,
Wilkinsons called, C. and I walked in the evening in the garden. Warmer
in the evening. Wrote to M. and S.
_Wednesday, 19th May._--A grey morning--not quite so cold. C. and I set
off at half-past nine o'clock. Met William near the six-mile stone. We
sate down by the road-side, and then went to Wytheburn water. Longed to
be at the island. Sate in the sun. We drank tea at John Stanley's. The
evening cold and clear. A glorious light on Skiddaw. I was tired.
Brought a cloak down from Mr. Simpson's. Packed up books for Coleridge,
then got supper, and went to bed.
_Thursday, 20th May._--A frosty, clear morning. I lay in bed late.
William got to work. I was somewhat tired. We sate in the orchard
sheltered all the morning. In the evening there was a fine rain. We
received a letter from Coleridge telling us that he wished us not to go
to Keswick.
_Friday, 21st May._--A very warm gentle morning, a little rain. William
wrote two sonnets on Buonaparte, after I had read Milton's sonnets to
him. In the evening he went with Mr. Simpson with Borwick's boat to
gather ling in Bainrigg's. I plashed about the well, was much heated,
and I think I caught cold.
_Saturday, 22nd May._--A very hot morning. A hot wind, as if coming
from a sand desert. We met Coleridge. He was sitting under Sara's rock.
When we reached him he turned with us. We sate a long time under the
wall of a sheep-fold. Had some interesting, melancholy talk, about his
private affairs. We drank tea at a farmhouse. The woman was very kind.
There was a woman with three children travelling from Workington to
Manchester. The woman served them liberally. Afterwards she said that
she never suffered any to go away without a trifle "sec as we have." The
woman at whose house we drank tea the last time was rich and
senseless--she said "she never served any but their own poor." C. came
home with us. We sate some time in the orchard.... Letters from S. and
M. H.
_Sunday._--I sat with C. in the orchard all the morning.... We walked in
Bainrigg's after tea. Saw the juniper--umbrella shaped. C. went to the
Points,[67] joined us on White Moss.
[Footnote 67: Mary Point and Sara Point; the "two heath-clad rocks"
referred to in one of the "Poems on the Naming of Places."--ED.]
_Monday, 24th May._--A very hot morning. We were ready to go off with
Coleridge, but foolishly sauntered, and Miss Taylor and Miss Stanley
called. William and Coleridge and I went afterwards to the top of the
Raise.