448. *_To_ ----, _on the Birth of her first Child_. [XXXII.]
Written at Moresby near Whitehaven, 1833, when I was on a visit to my
son, then incumbent of that small living. While I am dictating these
Notes to my friend Miss Fenwick, Jan. 24th, 1843, the child, upon whose
birth these verses were written, is under my roof, and is of a
disposition so promising that the wishes and prayers and prophecies
which I then breathed forth in verse are, thro' God's mercy, likely to
be realised. [In pencil--Jane?]
449. *_The Warning: a Sequel to the Foregoing_. [XXXIII.]
These lines were composed during the fever spread through the nation by
the Reform Bill. As the motives which led to this measure, and the good
or evil which has attended or has risen from it, will be duly
appreciated by future historians, there is no call for dwelling on the
subject in this place. I will content myself with saying that the then
condition of the people's mind is not, in these verses, exaggerated.
450. *_The Labourer's Noon-day Hymn_. [XXXV.]
Bishop Ken's Morning and Evening Hymns are, as they deserve to be,
familiarly known. Many other hymns have also been written on the same
subjects; but not being aware of any being designed for noon-day I was
induced to compose these verses. Often we had occasion to observe
cottage children carrying in their baskets dinner to their fathers
engaged with their daily labours in the fields and woods. How gratifying
would it be to me could I be assured that any portion of these stanzas
had been sung by such a domestic concert under such circumstances. A
friend of mine has told me that she introduced this Hymn into a
village-school which she superintended; and the stanzas in succession
furnished her with texts to comment upon in a way which without
difficulty was made intelligible to the children, and in which they
obviously took delight; and they were taught to sing it to the tune of
the old 100th Psalm.
451. *_Ode composed on May Morning_. [XXXVI.]
*_To May_. [XXXVII.]
These two Poems originated in these lines 'How delicate, &c.' My
daughter and I left Rydal Mount upon a Tour through our mountains with
Mr. and Mrs. Carr, in the month of May 1826; and as we were going up the
Vale of Newlands I was struck with the appearance of the little chapel
gleaming through the veil of half-opened leaves, and the feeling which
was then conveyed to my mind was expressed in the stanza that follows.
As in the case of 'Liberty' and 'Humanity,' mentioned before, my first
intention was to write only one Poem; but subsequently I broke it into
two, making additions to each part, so as to produce a consistent and
appropriate whole.
452. *_Lines suggested by a Portrait from the Pencil of F. Stone_.
[XXXVIII.]
*_The foregoing Subject resumed_. [XXXIX.]
This Portrait has hung for many years in our principal sitting-room, and
represents J.Q. as she was when a girl. The picture, though it is
somewhat thinly painted, has much merit in tone and general effect. It
is chiefly valuable, however, from the sentiment that pervades it. The
anecdote of the saying of the monk in sight of Titian's picture was told
in this house by Mr. Wilkie, and was, I believe, first communicated to
the public in this poem, the former portion of which I was composing at
the time. Southey heard the story from Miss Hutchinson, and transferred
it to the 'Doctor;' but it is not easy to explain how my friend Mr.
Rogers, in a note subsequently added to his 'Italy,' was led to speak of
the same remarkable words having many years before been spoken in his
hearing by a monk or priest in front of a picture of the Last Supper
placed over a refectory-table in a convent at Padua. [Printed note on
XXXVIII., last line: 'The Escurial. The pile of buildings composing the
palace and convent of San Lorenzo has, in common usage, lost its proper
name in that of the Escurial, a village at the foot of the hill upon
which the splendid edifice, built by Philip the Second, stands. It need
scarcely be added, that Wilkie is the painter alluded to.' On XXXIX.:
'Frail ties, dissolving or dissolved
On earth, will be revived, we trust, in heaven.'
'In the class entitled "Musings," in Mr. Southey's Minor Poems, is one
upon his own miniature picture, taken in childhood, and another upon a
landscape painted by Gaspar Poussin. It is possible that every word of
the above verses, though similar in subject, might have been written had
the author been unacquainted with those beautiful effusions of poetic
sentiment. But, for his own satisfaction, he must be allowed thus
publicly to acknowledge the pleasure those two Poems of his friend have
given him, and the grateful influence they have upon his mind as often
as he reads them or thinks of them.']
453. *_Upon seeing a coloured Drawing of the Bird of Paradise in an
Album_. [XLI.]
I cannot forbear to record that the last seven lines of this poem were
composed in bed, during the night of the day on which my sister S.H.
died, about six P.M., and it was the thought of her innocent and
beautiful life that through faith prompted the words:
'On wings that fear no glance of God's pure sight,
No tempest from His breath.'
The reader will find two Poems on pictures of this bird among my Poems.
I will here observe, that in a far greater number of instances than have
been mentioned in these Notes one Poem has, as in this case, grown out
of another, either because I felt the subject had been inadequately
treated or that the thoughts and images suggested in course of
composition have been such as I found interfered with the unity
indispensable to every work of art, however humble in character.
XIX. SONNETS DEDICATED TO LIBERTY AND ORDER.
454. _Change_, [iv. 1. 14.]
'Perilous is sweeping change, all chance unsound.'
'All change is perilous, and all chance unsound.' SPENSER.
455. _American Repudiation_. [VIII.]
'Men of the Western World.'
These lines were written several years ago, when reports prevailed of
cruelties committed in many parts of America, by men making a law of
their own passions. A far more formidable, as being a more deliberate
mischief, has appeared among those States, which have lately broken
faith with the public creditor in a manner so infamous. I cannot,
however, but look at both evils under a similar relation to inherent
good, and hope that the time is not distant when our brethren of the
West will wipe off this stain from their name and nation.
456. _To the Pennsylvanians_. [IX.]
Happily the language of expostulation in which this Sonnet is written is
no longer applicable. It will be gratifying to Americans and Englishmen
(indignos fraternum rumpere foedus) to read the following particulars
communicated in a letter from Mr. Reed, dated October 28, 1850. 'In Mr.
Wordsworth's letters to me you will have observed that a good deal is
said on the Pennsylvania Loans, a subject in which, as you are aware, he
was interested for his friends rather than for himself. Last December,
when I learned that a new edition of his poems was in press, I wrote to
him (it was my last letter) to say frankly that his Sonnet "To
Pennsylvanians" _was no longer just_, and to desire him _not to let_ it
stand so for after time. It was very gratifying to me on receiving a
copy of the new edition, which was not till after his death, to find the
'_additional note_' at the end of the fifth volume, showing by its being
printed on the unusual place of a fly-leaf, that he had been anxious to
attend to such a request. It was characteristic of that righteousness
which distinguished him as an author; and it has this interest (as I
conjecture) that it was probably the last sentence he composed for the
press. It is chiefly on this account that I mention it to you.'[7]
[7] _Memoirs_, ii. p. 114.
457. *_Feel for the Wrongs, &c._ [XIV.]
This Sonnet is recommended to the perusal of the Anti-Corn-Law-Leaguers,
the Political Economists, and of all those who consider that the evils
under which we groan are to be removed or palliated by measures
ungoverned by moral and religious principles.
458. _Sonnets upon the Punishment of Death_,[XX.]
Of these Sonnets the author thus wrote to John Peace, Esq., Bristol:
Rydal Mount, Feb. 23. 1842.
MY DEAR SIR,
I was truly pleased with the receipt of the letter which you were put
upon writing by the perusal of my 'Penal Sonnets' in the _Quarterly
Review_. Being much engaged at present, I might have deferred making my
acknowledgments for this and other favours (particularly your 'Descant')
if I had not had a special occasion for addressing you at this moment. A
Bristol lady has kindly undertaken to be the bearer of the walking-stick
which I spoke to you of some time since. It was cut from a holly-tree
planted in our garden by my own hand.
* * * * *
Your 'Descant' amused me, but I must protest against your system, which
would discard punctuation to the extent you propose. It would, I think,
destroy the harmony of blank verse when skilfully written. What would
become of the pauses at the third syllable followed by an _and_, or any
such word, without the rest which a comma, when consistent with the
sense, calls upon the reader to make, and which being made, he starts
with the weak syllable that follows, as from the beginning of a verse? I
am sure Milton would have supported me in this opinion. Thomson wrote
his blank verse before his ear was formed as it was when he wrote the
'Castle of Indolence,' and some of his short rhyme poems. It was,
therefore, rather hard in you to select him as an instance of
punctuation abused. I am glad that you concur in my view on the
_Punishment of Death_. An outcry, as I expected, has been raised against
me by weak-minded humanitarians. What do you think of one person having
opened a battery of nineteen fourteen-pounders upon me, _i.e._ nineteen
sonnets, in which he gives himself credit for having blown me and my
system to atoms? Another sonneteer has had a solitary shot at me from
Ireland.
Ever faithfully yours,
W. WORDSWORTH.[8]
[8] _Memoirs_, ii. pp. 386-7.
* * * * *
XX. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
459. _Epistle to Sir G. H. Beaumont, Bart_.[1.]
From the South-west Coast of Cumberland,--1811. This poem opened, when
first written, with a paragraph that has been transferred as an
introduction to the first series of my 'Scotch Memorials.' The journey,
of which the first part is here described, was from Grasmere to Bootle,
on the south-west coast of Cumberland, the whole along mountain-roads,
through a beautiful country, and we had fine weather. The verses end
with our breakfast at the Head of Yewdale, in a yeoman's house, which,
like all the other property in that sequestered vale, has passed, or is
passing, into the hands of Mr. James Marshall, of Monk Coniston, in Mr.
Knott's, the late owner's time, called Waterhead. Our hostess married a
Mr. Oldfield, a lieutenant in the navy; they lived together for some
time at Hackett, where she still resides as his widow. It was in front
of that house, on the mountain-side, near which stood the peasant who,
while we were passing at a distance, saluted us, waving a kerchief in
his hand, as described in the poem. The dog which we met soon after our
starting, had belonged to Mr. Rowlandson, who for forty years was curate
at Grasmere, in place of the rector, who lived to extreme old age, in a
state of insanity. Of this Mr. R. much might be said, both with
reference to his character, and the way in which he was regarded by his
parishioners. He was a man of a robust frame, had a firm voice and
authoritative manner, of strong natural talents, of which he was
himself conscious, for he has been heard to say (it grieves me to add
with an oath), 'If I had been brought up at college by ---- I should have
been a Bishop.' Two vices used to struggle in him for mastery, avarice
and the love of strong drink. But avarice, as is common in like cases,
always got the better of its opponent, for though he was often
intoxicated it was never, I believe, at his own expense. As has been
said of one in a more exalted station, he could take any _given_
quantity. I have heard a story of him which is worth the telling. One
Summer's morning our Grasmere curate, after a night's carouse in the
Vale of Langdale, on his return home having reached a point near which
the whole Vale of Grasmere might be seen with the Lake immediately below
him, he stept aside and sat down upon the turf. After looking for some
time at the landscape, then in the perfection of its morning beauty, he
exclaimed, 'Good God! that I should have led so long such a life in such
a place!' This no doubt was deeply felt by him at the time, but I am not
authorised to say that any noticeable amendment followed. Penuriousness
strengthened upon him as his body grew feebler with age. He had
purchased property and kept some land in his own hands, but he could not
find in his heart to lay out the necessary hire for labourers at the
proper season, and consequently he has often been seen in half dotage
working his hay in the month of November by moonlight--a melancholy
sight, which I myself have witnessed. Notwithstanding all that has been
said, this man, on account of his talents and superior education, was
looked up to by his parishioners, who, without a single exception, lived
at that time (and most of them upon their own small inheritances) in a
state of republican equality, a condition favourable to the growth of
kindly feelings among them, and, in a striking degree, exclusive to
temptations to gross vice and scandalous behaviour. As a pastor, their
curate did little or nothing for them; but what could more strikingly
set forth the efficacy of the Church of England, through its Ordinances
and Liturgy, than that, in spite of the unworthiness of the minister,
his church was regularly attended; and though there was not much
appearance in his flock of what might be called animated piety,
intoxication was rare, and dissolute morals unknown? With the Bible they
were, for the most part, well acquainted, and, as was strikingly shown
when they were under affliction, must have been supported and comforted
by habitual belief in those truths which it is the aim of the Church to
inculcate. [Notes: 'Sled' (l.110)--a local word for sledge; 'bield' (l.
175)--a word common in the country, signifying shelter, as in Scotland.]
460. *_Upon perusing the foregoing Epistle, thirty Years after its
Composition_.
Loughrigg Tarn.
This beautiful pool, and the surrounding scene, are minutely described
in my little book on the Lakes.
Sir G.H.B., in the earlier part of his life, was induced, by his love of
Nature and the art of painting, to take up his abode at Old Brathay,
about three miles from this spot, so that he must have seen it [the
Tarn] under many aspects; and he was so much pleased with it, that he
purchased the Tarn with a view to build such a residence as is alluded
to in this 'Epistle.' Baronets and knights were not so common in that
day as now, and Sir M. le Fleming, not liking to have a rival in this
kind of distinction so near him, claimed a sort of lordship over the
territory, and showed dispositions little in unison with those of Sir G.
Beaumont, who was eminently a lover of peace. The project of building
was given up, Sir G.B. retaining possession of the Tarn. Many years
afterwards, a Kendal tradesman, born upon its banks, applied to me for
the purchase of it, and, accordingly, it was sold for the sum that had
been given for it, and the money was laid out, under my direction, upon
a substantial oak fence for a certain number of yew-trees, to be planted
in Grasmere Churchyard. Two were planted in each enclosure, with a view
to remove, after a certain time, the one which throve the least. After
several years, the stouter plant being left, the others were taken up,
and placed in other parts of the same churchyard, and were adequately
fenced at the expense and under the care of the late Mr. Barber, Mr.
Greenwood, and myself. The whole eight are now thriving, and are an
ornament to a place which, during late years, has lost much of its
rustic simplicity by the introduction of iron palisades, to fence off
family burying-grounds, and by numerous monuments, some of them in very
bad taste, from which this place of burial was in my memory quite free:
see the lines in the sixth book of 'The Excursion,' beginning,
'Green is the Churchyard.'
The 'Epistle,' to which these notes refer, though written so far back as
1811, was carefully revised so late as 1842, previous to its
publication. I am loath to add, that it was never seen by the person to
whom it is addressed. So sensible am I of the deficiencies in all that I
write, and so far does every thing that I attempt fall short of what I
wish it to be, that even private publication, if such a term may be
allowed, requires more resolution than I can command. I have written to
give vent to my own mind, and not without hope that, some time or other,
kindred minds might benefit by my labours; but I am inclined to believe
I should never have ventured to send forth any verses of mine to the
world, if it had not been done on the pressure of personal occasions.
Had I been a rich man, my productions, like this 'Epistle,' the 'Tragedy
of the Borderers,' &c., would most likely have been confined to MS.
461. _Ibid._
Loughrigg Tarn, alluded to in the foregoing Epistle, resembles, though
much smaller in compass, the Lake Nemi, or _Speculum Dianae_ as it is
often called, not only in its clear waters and circular form, and the
beauty immediately surrounding it, but also as being overlooked by the
eminence of Langdale Pikes as Lake Nemi is by that of Monte Calvo. Since
this Epistle was written Loughrigg Tarn has lost much of its beauty by
the felling of many natural clumps of wood, relics of the old forest,
particularly upon the farm called 'The Oaks,' from the abundance of that
tree which grew there.
It is to be regretted, upon public grounds, that Sir George Beaumont did
not carry into effect his intention of constructing here a Summer
Retreat in the style I have described; as his taste would have set an
example how buildings, with all the accommodations modern society
requires, might be introduced even into the most secluded parts of this
country without injuring their native character. The design was not
abandoned from failure of inclination on his part, but in consequence of
local untowardness which need not be particularised.
462. *_Gold and Silver Fishes in a Vase_.[II.]
They were a present from Miss Jewsbury, of whom mention is made in the
Note at the end of the next poem. The fish were healthy to all
appearance in their confinement for a long time, but at last, for some
cause we could not make out, languished; and one of them being all but
dead, they were taken to the pool under the old pollard oak. The
apparently dying one lay on its side unable to move. I used to watch it,
and about the tenth day it began to right itself, and in a few days more
was able to swim about with its companions. For many months they
continued to prosper in their new place of abode; but one night by an
unusually great flood they were swept out of the pool and perished, to
our great regret.
463. *_Liberty_ (_Sequel to the above_). [III.]
The connection of this with the preceding poem is sufficiently obvious.
464. _Liberty_. [III.]
'Life's book for thee may be unclosed, till age
Shall with a thankful tear bedrop its latest page.'
There is now, alas! no possibility of the anticipation, with which the
above Epistle concludes, being realised: nor were the verses ever seen
by the Individual for whom they were intended. She accompanied her
husband, the Rev. Wm. Fletcher, to India, and died of cholera, at the
age of thirty-two or thirty-three years, on her way from Shalapore to
Bombay, deeply lamented by all who knew her.
Her enthusiasm was ardent, her piety steadfast; and her great talents
would have enabled her to be eminently useful in the difficult path of
life to which she had been called. The opinion she entertained of her
own performances, given to the world under her maiden name, Jewsbury,
was modest and humble, and, indeed, far below their merits; as is often
the case with those who are making trial of their powers, with a hope to
discover what they are best fitted for. In one quality, viz., quickness
in the motions of her mind, she had, within the range of the Author's
acquaintance, no equal.
465. _Poor Robin_. [IV.]
The small wild Geranium known by that name.
466. *_Ibid._
I often ask myself what will become of Rydal Mount after our day. Will
the old walls and steps remain in front of the house and about the
grounds, or will they be swept away with all the beautiful mosses and
ferns and wild geraniums and other flowers which their rude construction
suffered and encouraged to grow among them? This little wild flower,
'Poor Robin,' is here constantly courting my attention and exciting what
may be called a domestic interest with the varying aspects of its stalks
and leaves and flowers. Strangely do the tastes of men differ, according
to their employment and habits of life. 'What a nice well would that
be,' said a labouring man to me one day, 'if all that rubbish was
cleared off.' The 'rubbish' was some of the most beautiful mosses and
lichens and ferns and other wild growths, as could possibly be seen.
Defend us from the tyranny of trimness and neatness, showing itself in
this way! Chatterton says of Freedom, 'Upon her head wild weeds were
spread,' and depend upon it, if 'the marvellous boy' had undertaken to
give Flora a garland, he would have preferred what we are apt to call
weeds to garden-flowers. True taste has an eye for both. Weeds have been
called flowers out of place. I fear the place most people would assign
to them is too limited. Let them come near to our abodes, as surely they
may without impropriety or disorder.
467. *_To the Lady le Fleming_. [IX.]
After thanking in prose Lady Fleming for the service she had done to her
neighbourhood by erecting this Chapel, I have nothing to say beyond the
expression of regret that the architect did not furnish an elevation
better suited to the site in a narrow mountain pass, and what is of more
consequence, better constructed in the interior for the purposes of
worship. It has no chancel. The Altar is unbecomingly confined. The Pews
are so narrow as to preclude the possibility of kneeling. There is no
vestry, and what ought to have been first mentioned, the Font, instead
of standing at its proper place at the entrance, is thrust into the
farthest end of a little pew. When these defects shall be pointed out to
the munificent patroness, they will, it is hoped, be corrected. [In
pencil--Have they not been corrected in part at least? 1843.]
468. *_To a Redbreast (in Sickness)_. [VI.]
Almost the only Verses composed by our lamented sister S.H. [=Miss Sarah
Hutchinson, sister of Mrs. Wordsworth].
469. *_Floating Island_. [VII.]
My poor sister takes a pleasure in repeating these Verses, which she
composed not long before the beginning of her sad illness.
470. *_Once I could hail, &c._ [VIII.]
'No faculty yet given me to espy the dusky shape.' Afterwards, when I
could not avoid seeing it, I wondered at this, and the more so because,
like most children, I had been in the habit of watching the moon thro'
all her changes, and had often continued to gaze at it while at the
full, till half-blinded.
471. *_The Gleaner (suggested by a Picture)_.
This poem was first printed in the Annual called 'The Keep-sake.' The
Painter's name I am not sure of, but I think it was Holmes.
472. _Nightshade_. [IX. ii. 6.]
Bekangs Ghyll--or the dell of Nightshade--in which stands St. Mary's
Abbey in Low Furness.
473. _Churches--East and West_. [X.]
Our churches, invariably perhaps, stand east and west, but why is by few
persons exactly known; nor that the degree of deviation from due east
often noticeable in the ancient ones was determined, in each particular
case, by the point on the horizon at which the sun rose upon the day of
the saint to whom the church was dedicated. These observances of our
ancestors, and the causes of them, are the subject of the following
stanzas.
474. _The Horn of Egremont Castle_. [XI.]
This story is a Cumberland tradition. I have heard it also related of
the Hall of Hutton John, an ancient residence of the Huddlestons, in a
sequestered valley upon the river Dacor. [In the I.F. MSS. the Note runs
thus: '1806. A tradition transferred from the ancient mansion of Hutton
John, the seat of the Huddlestons, to Egremont Castle.']
475. *_Goody Blake and Harry Gill_. [XII.]
Written at Alfoxden, 1798. The incident from Dr. Darwin's _Zoonomia_.
476. *_To a Child: written in her Album_. [XIV.]
This quatrain was extempore on observing this image, as I had often
done, on the lawn of Rydal Mount. It was first written down in the Album
of my god-daughter, Rotha Quillinan.
477. *_Lines written in the Album of the Countess of Lonsdale_. [XV.]
This is a faithful picture of that amiable Lady as she then was. The
youthfulness of figure and demeanour and habits, which she retained in
almost unprecedented degree, departed a very few years after, and she
died without violent disease by gradual decay, before she reached the
period of old age. [In pencil--Was she not 70? Mr. J.]
478. _The Russian Fugitive_. [XVII.]
Peter Henry Bruce, having given in his entertaining Memoirs the
substance of this Tale, affirms that, besides the concurring reports of
others, he had the story from the lady's own mouth. The Lady Catherine,
mentioned towards the close, is the famous Catherine, then bearing that
name as the acknowledged wife of Peter the Great.
479. *_Ibid._
Early in life this story had interested me; and I often thought it would
make a pleasing subject for an Opera or musical drama.
XXI. INSCRIPTIONS.
480. *(I.) In the grounds of Coleorton these verses are engraved on a
stone, placed near the tree, which was thriving and spreading when I saw
it in the summer of 1841.
481. *(II.) This Niche is in the sandstone rock in the winter-garden at
Coleorton, which garden, as has been elsewhere said, was made under our
direction out of an old unsightly quarry. While the labourers were at
work Mrs. Wordsworth, my sister, and I used to amuse ourselves
occasionally in scooping this seat out of the soft stone. It is of the
size, with something of the appearance, of a stall in a cathedral. This
inscription is not engraven, as the former and the two following are, in
the grounds.
482. *(VI.) The circumstance alluded to at the conclusion of these
verses was told me by Dr. Satterthwaite, who was Incumbent of Boodle, a
small town at the foot of Black Combe. He had the particulars from one
of the engineers, who was employed in making trigonometrical surveys of
that region.
483. *(VIII.) Engraven, during my absence in Italy, upon a brass plate
inserted in the stone.
484. *(IX.) The walk is what we call the far-terrace, beyond the
summer-house, at Rydal Mount. The lines were written when we were afraid
of being obliged to quit the place to which we were so much attached.
485. *(XI.) The monument of ice here spoken of I observed while
ascending the middle road of the three ways that lead from Rydal to
Grasmere. It was on my right hand, and my eyes were upon it when it
fell, as told in these lines.
486. *(XII.) Where the second quarry now is, as you pass from Rydal to
Grasmere, there was formerly a length of smooth rock that sloped towards
the road on the right hand. I used to call it tadpole slope, from having
frequently observed there the water bubbles gliding under the ice,
exactly in the shape of that creature.
* * * * *
XXII. SELECTIONS FROM CHAUCER MODERNISED.
487. _Of the Volume in which the 'Selections' appeared_.
Of these 'Selections' the Author wrote as follows to Professor Reed, of
Philadelphia:
'There has recently been published in London a volume of some of
Chaucer's tales and poems modernised. This little specimen originated in
what I attempted with the "Prioress's Tale;" and if the book should find
its way to America, you will see in it two further specimens from
myself. I had no further connection with the publication than by making
a present of these to one of the contributors. Let me, however,
recommend to your notice the "Prologue" and the "Franklin's Tale;" they
are both by Mr. Horne, a gentleman unknown to me, but are, the latter in
particular, very well done. Mr. Leigh Hunt has not failed in the
"Manciple's Tale," which I myself modernised many years ago; but, though
I much admire the genius of Chaucer as displayed in this performance, I
could not place my version at the disposal of the editor, as I deemed
the subject somewhat too indelicate, for pure taste, to be offered to
the world at this time of day. Mr. Horne has much hurt this publication
by not abstaining from the "Reve's Tale;" this, after making all
allowance for the rude manners of Chaucer's age, is intolerable, and by
indispensably softening down the incidents, he has killed the spirit of
that humour, gross and farcical, that pervades the original. When the
work was first mentioned to me, I protested as strongly as possible
against admitting any coarseness or indelicacy; so that my conscience is
clear of countenancing aught of that kind. So great is my admiration of
Chaucer's genius, and so profound my reverence for him as an instrument
in the hands of Providence for spreading the light of literature through
his native land, that, notwithstanding the defects and faults in this
publication, I am glad of it, as a mean for making many acquainted with
the original who would otherwise be ignorant of everything about him but
his name.'[9]
[9] Extract: January 13th, 1841 (_Memoirs_, ii. p. 374-5).
488. _The Prioress's Tale_.
'Call up him who left half told
The story of Cambuscan bold.'
In the following Poem no further deviation from the original has been
made than was necessary for the fluent reading and instant understanding
of the Author: so much, however, is the language altered since Chaucer's
time, especially in pronunciation, that much was to be removed, and its
place supplied with as little incongruity as possible. The ancient
accent has been retained in a few conjunctions, as _alsÚ_ and _alw‡y_,
from a conviction that such sprinklings of antiquity would be admitted,
by persons of taste, to have a graceful accordance with the subject. The
fierce bigotry of the Prioress forms a fine back-ground for her
tender-hearted sympathies with the Mother and Child; and the mode in
which the story is told amply atones for the extravagance of the
miracle.
XXIII. POEMS REFERRING TO THE PERIOD OF OLD AGE.
489. _The Old Cumberland Beggar_. [I.]
The class of Beggars to which the Old Man here described belongs will
probably soon be extinct. It consisted of poor, and mostly old and
infirm persons, who confined themselves to a stated round in their
neighbourhood, and had certain fixed days, on which, at different
houses, they regularly received alms, sometimes in money, but mostly in
provisions.
490. *_Ibid._
Observed, and with great benefit to my own heart, when I was a child.
Written at Racedown and Alfoxden in my 23d year. The political
economists were about that time beginning their war upon mendicity in
all its forms, and by implication, if not directly, on alms-giving also.
This heartless process has been carried as far as it can go by the
AMENDED Poor Law Bill, tho' the inhumanity that prevails in this measure
is somewhat disguised by the profession that one of its objects is to
throw the poor upon the voluntary donations of their neighbours, that
is, if rightly interpreted, to force them into a condition between
relief in the Union Poor House and alms robbed of their Christian grace
and spirit, as being forced rather from the avaricious and selfish; and
all, in fact, but the humane and charitable are at liberty to keep all
they possess from their distressed brethren.
491. _The Farmer of Tilsbury Vale_.
With this picture, which was taken from real life, compare the
imaginative one of 'The Reverie of Poor Susan,' and see (to make up the
deficiencies of the class) 'The Excursion' _passim_.
492. _Ibid._
The character of this man was described to me, and the incident upon
which the verses turn was told me by Mr. Pool, of Nether Stowey, with
whom I became acquainted through our common friend S.T.C. During my
residence at Alfoxden, I used to see a great deal of him, and had
frequent occasions to admire the course of his daily life, especially
his conduct to his labourers and poor neighbours. Their virtues he
carefully encouraged, and weighed their faults in the scales of charity.
If I seem in these verses to have treated the weaknesses of the farmer
and his transgression too tenderly, it may in part be ascribed to my
having received the story from one so averse to all harsh judgment.
After his death was found in his _escritoir_ a lock of gray hair,
carefully preserved, with a notice that it had been cut from the head of
his faithful shepherd, who had served him for a length of years. I need
scarcely add that he felt for all men as brothers. He was much beloved
by distinguished persons:--Mr. Coleridge, Mr. Southey, Sir H. Davy, and
many others, and in his own neighbourhood was highly valued as a
magistrate, a man of business, and in every other social relation. The
latter part of the poem, perhaps, requires some apology, as being too
much of an echo to the 'Reverie of Poor Susan.'
493. _The small Celandine_. [III.]
See 'Poems of the Fancy' [XI.].
494. *_The two Thieves_. [IV.]
This is described from the life, as I was in the habit of observing when
a boy at Hawkshead School. Daniel was more than 80 years older than
myself when he was daily thus occupied under my notice. No book could
have so early taught me to think of the changes to which human life is
subject, and while looking at him I could not but say to myself, We may,
any of us, I or the happiest of my playmates, live to become still more
the object of pity than the old man, this half-doating pilferer.
495. *_Animal Tranquillity and Decay_. [V.]
If I recollect right, these verses were an overflow from the 'Old
Cumberland Beggar.'
* * * * *
XXIV. EPITAPHS AND ELEGIAC PIECES.
496. *_From Chiabrera_. [I. to IX.]
Those from Chiabrera were chiefly translated when Mr. Coleridge was
writing his _Friend_, in which periodical my Essay on Epitaphs, written
about that time, was first published. For further notice of Chiabrera in
connection with his Epitaphs see 'Musings at Aquapendente.'
497. *_By a blest Husband, &c._
This lady was named Carleton. She, along with a sister, was brought up
in the neighbourhood of Ambleside. The Epitaph, a part of it at least,
is in the church at Bromsgrove, where she resided after her marriage.
498. _Cenotaph_.
In affectionate remembrance of Frances Fermor, whose remains are
deposited in the Church of Claines, near Worcester, this stone is
erected by her sister, Dame Margaret, wife of Sir George Beaumont,
Bart., who, feeling not less than the love of a brother for the
deceased, commends this memorial to the care of his heirs and successors
in the possession of this place. (See the verses on Mrs. F.)
499. *_Epitaph in the Chapel-yard of Langdale, Westmoreland_. [IV.]
Owen Lloyd, the subject of this Epitaph, was born at Old Brathay, near
Ambleside, and was the son of Charles Lloyd and his wife Sophia (nÈe
Pemberton), both of Birmingham. They had many children, both sons and
daughters, of whom the most remarkable was the subject of this Epitaph.
He was educated under Dawes of Ambleside, Dr. Butler of Shrewsbury, and
lastly at Trin. Coll., Cambridge, where he would have been greatly
distinguished as a scholar, but for inherited infirmities of bodily
constitution, which from early childhood affected his mind. His love for
the neighbourhood in which he was born and his sympathy with the habits
and characters of the mountain yeomanry, in conjunction with irregular
spirits, that unfitted him for facing duties in situations to which he
was unaccustomed, inclined him to accept the retired curacy of Langdale.
How much he was beloved and honoured there and with what feelings he
discharged his duty under the oppressions of severe malady is set forth,
though imperfectly, in this Epitaph.
500. *_Address to the Scholars of the Village School_.
Were composed at Goslar in Germany. They will be placed among the
Elegiac pieces.
501. *_Elegiac Stanzas suggested by a Picture of Peel Castle_. [VI.]
Sir George Beaumont painted two pictures of this subject, one of which
he gave to Mrs. Wordsworth, saying she ought to have it: but Lady B.
interfered, and after Sir George's death she gave it to Sir Uvedale
Price, in whose house at Foxley I have seen it--rather grudgingly I own.
502. _Elegiac Verses_. [VIII.]
In memory of my Brother, John Wordsworth, Commander of the E.I.
Company's ship the Earl of Abergavenny, in which he perished by
calamitous shipwreck, Feb. 6, 1805. Composed near the Mountain track
that leads from Grasmere through Grisdale Hawes, where it descends
towards Patterdale. 1805.
503. _Moss Campion_ (_Silene acaulis_). [_Ibid._ II. l. 5.]
This most beautiful plant is scarce in England, though it is found in
great abundance upon the mountains of Scotland. The first specimen I
ever saw of it, in its native bed, was singularly fine, the tuft or
cushion being at least eight inches in diameter, and the root
proportionably thick. I have only met with it in two places among our
mountains, in both of which I have since sought for it in vain.
Botanists will not, I hope, take it ill, if I caution them against
carrying off, inconsiderately, rare and beautiful plants. This has often
been done, particularly from Ingleborough and other mountains in
Yorkshire, till the species have totally disappeared, to the great
regret of lovers of Nature living near the places where they grew.
504. _Lines_.
Composed at Grasmere, during a walk one evening after a stormy day, the
Author having just read in a newspaper that the dissolution of Mr. Fox
was hourly expected, 'Loud is the Vale,' &c. [IX.]
505. *_Invocation to the Earth_. [x.]
Composed immediately after the Thanksgiving Ode, to which it may be
considered as a second part.
506. *_Elegiac Stanzas. Addressed to Sir G.H.B_. [XII.]
On Mrs. Fermor. This lady had been a widow long before I knew her. Her
husband was of the family of the lady celebrated in the 'Rape of the
Lock,' and was, I believe, a Roman Catholic. The sorrow which his death
caused her was fearful in its character, as described in this Poem, but
was subdued in course of time by the strength of her religious faith. I
have been for many weeks at a time an inmate with her at Coleorton Hall,
as were also Mary and my sister. The truth in the sketch of her
character here given was acknowledged with gratitude by her nearest
relatives. She was eloquent in conversation, energetic upon public
matters, open in respect to these, but slow to communicate her personal
feelings. Upon these she never touched in her intercourse with me, so
that I could not regard myself as her confidential friend, and was
accordingly surprised when I learnt she had left me a legacy of 100_l._
as a token of her esteem. See in further illustration, the second stanza
inscribed upon her cenotaph in Coleorton Church.
507. *_Elegiac Musings in the Grounds of Coleorton Hall_.[XIII.]
These verses were in fact composed on horseback during a storm, whilst I
was on my way from Coleorton to Cambridge. They are alluded to
elsewhere. [Intercalated by Mrs. Quillinan--My father was on my pony,
which he rode all the way from Rydal to Cambridge that I might have the
comfort and pleasure of a horse at Cambridge. The storm of wind and rain
on this day was so violent that the coach in which my mother and I
travelled, the same coach, was all but blown over, and had the coachman
drawn up as he attempted to do at one of his halting-places, we must
have been upset. My father and his pony were several times actually
blown out of the road. D.Q.]
508. _Charles Lamb_. [XIV.]
From the most gentle creature nursed in fields.
This way of indicating the _name_ of my lamented friend has been found
fault with; perhaps rightly so; but I may say in justification of the
double sense of the word, that similar allusions are not uncommon in
epitaphs. One of the best in our language in verse I ever read, was upon
a person who bore the name of Palmer; and the course of the thought,
throughout, turned upon the Life of the Departed, considered as a
pilgrimage. Nor can I think that the objection in the present case will
have much force with any one who remembers Charles Lamb's beautiful
sonnet addressed to his own name, and ending--
'No deed of mine shall shame thee, gentle name!'
509. *_Ibid._
Light will be thrown upon the tragic circumstance alluded to in this
Poem when, after the death of Charles Lamb's sister, his biographer, Mr.
Serjeant Talfourd, shall be at liberty to relate particulars which could
not, at the time when his Memoir was written, be given to the public.
Mary Lamb was ten years older than her brother, and has survived him as
long a time. Were I to give way to my own feelings, I should dwell not
only on her genius and intellectual powers, but upon the delicacy and
refinement of manner which she maintained inviolable under most trying
circumstances. She was loved and honoured by all her brother's friends,
and others, some of them strange characters whom his philanthropic
peculiarities induced him to countenance. The death of C. Lamb himself
was doubtless hastened by his sorrow for that of Coleridge, to whom he
had been attached from the time of their being schoolfellows at Christ's
Hospital. Lamb was a good Latin scholar, and probably would have gone to
college upon one of the School foundations but for the impediment in his
speech. Had such been his lot, he would have probably been preserved
from the indulgences of social humours and fancies which were often
injurious to himself and causes of severe regret to his friends, without
really benefiting the object of his misapplied kindness.
510. *_Extempore Effusion upon the Death of James Hogg_. [XV.]
These verses were written extempore immediately after reading a notice
of the Ettrick Shepherd's death in the Newcastle Paper, to the Editor of
which I sent a copy for publication. The persons lamented in these
Verses were all either of my friends or acquaintance. In Lockhart's Life
of Sir Walter Scott an account is given of my first meeting with him in
1803. How the Ettrick Shepherd and I became known to each other has
already been mentioned in these Notes. He was undoubtedly a man of
original genius, but of coarse manners and low and offensive opinions.
Of Coleridge and Lamb I need not speak here. Crabbe I have met in London
at Mr. Rogers', but more frequently and favourably at Mr. Hoare's upon
Hampstead Heath. Every Spring he used to pay that family a visit of some
length, and was upon terms of intimate friendship with Mrs. Hoare, and
still more with her daughter-in-law, who has a large collection of his
letters addressed to herself. After the Poet's decease application was
made to her to give up these letters to his biographer, that they, or at
least a part of them, might be given to the public. She hesitated to
comply, and asked my opinion on the subject. 'By no means,' was my
answer, grounded not upon any objection there might be to publishing a
selection from those letters, but from an aversion I have always felt to
meet idle curiosity by calling back the recently departed to become the
object of trivial and familiar gossip. Crabbe obviously for the most
part preferred the company of women to that of men; for this among other
reasons, that he did not like to be put upon the stretch in general
conversation. Accordingly, in miscellaneous society his talk was so
much below what might have been expected from a man so deservedly
celebrated, that to me it seemed trifling. It must upon other occasions
have been of a different character, as I found in our rambles together
on Hampstead Heath; and not so much so from a readiness to communicate
his knowledge of life and manners as of natural history in all its
branches. His mind was inquisitive, and he seems to have taken refuge
from a remembrance of the distresses he had gone through in these
studies and the employments to which they led. Moreover such
contemplations might tend profitably to counterbalance the painful
truths which he had collected from his intercourse with mankind. Had I
been more intimate with him I should have ventured to touch upon his
office as a Minister of the Gospel, and how far his heart and soul were
in it, so as to make him a zealous and diligent labourer. In poetry,
tho' he wrote much, as we all know, he assuredly was not so. I happened
once to speak of pains as necessary to produce merit of a certain kind
which I highly valued. His observation was, 'It is not worth while.' You
are right, thought I, if the labour encroaches upon the time due to
teach truth as a steward of the mysteries of God; but if poetry is to be
produced at all, make what you do produce as good as you can. Mr. Rogers
once told me that he expressed his regret to Crabbe that he wrote in his
late works so much less correctly than in his earlier. 'Yes,' replied
he, 'but then I had a reputation to make; now I can afford to relax.'
Whether it was from a modest estimate of his own qualifications or from
causes less creditable, his motives for writing verse and his hopes and
aims were not so high as is to be desired. After being silent for more
than twenty years he again applied himself to poetry, upon the spur of
applause he received from the periodical publications of the day, as he
himself tells us in one of his Prefaces. Is it not to be lamented that a
man who was so conversant with permanent truth, and whose writings are
so valuable an acquisition to our country's literature, should have
_required_ an impulse from such a quarter?[10]
[10] In pencil on opposite page, by Mrs. Quillinan--Daddy dear, I don't
like this. Think how many reasons there were to depress his Muse--to say
nothing of his duties as a Priest, and probably he found poetry
interfere with them. He did not _require_ such praise to make him write,
but it just put it into his heart to try again, and gave him the courage
to do so. (See Notes and Illustrations at close. G)
Mrs. Hemans was unfortunate as a Poetess in being obliged by
circumstances to write for money, and that so frequently and so much,
that she was compelled to look out for subjects wherever she could find
them, and to write as expeditiously as possible. As a woman she was to a
considerable degree a spoilt child of the world. She had been early in
life distinguished for talents, and poems of hers were published whilst
she was a girl. She had also been handsome in her youth, but her
education had been most unfortunate. She was totally ignorant of
housewifery, and could as easily have managed the spear of Minerva as
her needle. It was from observing these deficiencies that one day, while
she was under my roof, I purposely directed her attention to household
economy, and told her I had purchased scales which I intended to present
to a young lady as a wedding present; pointed out their utility (for her
especial benefit), and said that no menage ought to be without them.
Mrs. Hemans, not in the least suspecting my drift, reported this saying
in a letter to a friend at the time, as a proof of my simplicity. Being
disposed to make large allowances for the faults of her education and
the circumstances in which she was placed, I felt most kindly disposed
towards her and took her part upon all occasions, and I was not a little
affected by learning that after she withdrew to Ireland a long and
severe illness raised her spirit as it depressed her body. This I heard
from her most intimate friends, and there is striking evidence of it in
a poem entitled [Blank; and in pencil on opposite page--Do you mean a
Sonnet entitled 'Sabbath Sonnet,' composed by Mrs. Hemans, April 26th,
1835, a few days before her death? 'How many blessed groups this hour
are wending!'] These notices of Mrs. Hemans would be very unsatisfactory
to her intimate friends, as indeed they are to myself, not so much for
what is said, but what for brevity's sake is left unsaid. Let it suffice
to add there was much sympathy between us, and if opportunity had been
allowed me to see more of her, I should have loved and valued her
accordingly. As it is, I remember her with true affection for her
amiable qualities, and above all for her delicate and irreproachable
conduct during her long separation from an unfeeling husband, whom she
had been led to marry from the romantic notions of inexperienced youth.
Upon this husband I never heard her cast the least reproach, nor did I
ever hear her even name him, though she did not forbear wholly to touch
upon her domestic position; but never so as that any fault could be
found with her manner of adverting to it.
511. _Dead friends: 'Immortals.'_ [XV.]
Walter Scott died 21st Sept. 1832.
S.T. Coleridge " 25th July 1834.
Charles Lamb " 27th Dec. 1834.
Geo. Crabbe " 3rd Feb. 1832.
Felicia Hemans " 16th May 1835.
512. *_Ode: Intimations of Immortality, from Recollections of early
Childhood_. [Headed in I.F. MSS. 'The Ode.']
This was composed during my residence at Town-End, Grasmere. Two years
at least passed between the writing of the four first stanzas and the
remaining part. To the attentive and competent reader the whole
sufficiently explains itself, but there may be no harm in adverting here
to particular feelings or _experiences_ of my own mind on which the
structure of the poem partly rests. Nothing was more difficult for me in
childhood than to admit the notion of death as a state applicable to my
own being. I have said elsewhere
'A simple child
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?'[11]
[11] In pencil on opposite page--But this first stanza of 'We are Seven'
is Coleridge's Jem and all (Mr. Quillinan).
But it was not so much from the source of animal vivacity that _my_
difficulty came as from a sense of the indomitableness of the spirit
within me. I used to brood over the stories of Enoch and Elijah, and
almost to persuade myself that, whatever might become of others, I
should be translated in something of the same way to heaven. With a
feeling congenial to this, I was often unable to think of external
things as having external existence, and I communed with all that I saw
as something not apart from, but inherent in, my own immaterial nature.
Many times while going to school have I grasped at a wall or tree to
recall myself from this abyss of idealism to the reality. At that time I
was afraid of such processes. In later periods of life I have deplored,
as we have all reason to do, a subjugation of an opposite character,
and have rejoiced over the remembrances, as is expressed in the lines,
'Obstinate questionings,' &c. To that dreamlike vividness and splendour
which invest objects of sight in childhood, every one, I believe, if he
would look back, could bear testimony, and I need not dwell upon it
here; but having in the Poem regarded it as presumptive evidence of a
prior state of existence, I think it right to protest against a
conclusion which has given pain to some good and pious persons, that I
meant to inculcate such a belief. It is far too shadowy a notion to be
recommended to faith as more than an element in our instincts of
immortality. But let us bear in mind that, though the idea is not
advanced in Revelation, there is nothing there to contradict it, and the
fall of man presents an analogy in its favour. Accordingly, a
pre-existent state has entered into the popular creeds of many nations,
and among all persons acquainted with classic literature is known as an
ingredient in Platonic philosophy. Archimedes said that he could move
the world if he had a point whereon to rest his machine. Who has not
felt the same aspirations as regards the world of his own mind? Having
to wield some of its elements when I was impelled to write this poem on
the 'Immortality of the Soul,' I took hold of the notion of
pre-existence as having sufficient foundation in humanity for
authorising me to make for my purpose the best use of it I could as a
Poet.
* * * * *
XXV. 'THE EXCURSION.'
513. *_On the leading Characters and Scenes of the Poem_.
Something must now be said of this Poem, but chiefly, as has been done
through the whole of these Notes, with reference to my personal friends,
and especially to her [Miss Fenwick] who has perseveringly taken them
down from my dictation. Towards the close of the 1st book, stand the
lines that were first written, beginning 'Nine tedious years,' and
ending 'last human tenant of these ruined walls.' These were composed in
1795, at Racedown; and for several passages describing the employment
and demeanour of Margaret during her affliction, I was indebted to
observations made in Dorsetshire, and afterwards at Alfoxden, in
Somersetshire, where I resided in 1797 and 1798. The lines towards the
conclusion of the 4th book, 'Despondency corrected,' beginning 'For the
man who in this spirit,' to the words 'intellectual soul,' were in order
of time composed the next, either at Racedown or Alfoxden, I do not
remember which. The rest of the poem was written in the vale of
Grasmere, chiefly during our residence at Allan Bank. The long poem on
my own education was, together with many minor poems, composed while we
lived at the cottage at Town-End. Perhaps my purpose of giving an
additional interest to these my poems, in the eyes of my nearest and
dearest friends, may he promoted by saying a few words upon the
character of the 'Wanderer,' the 'Solitary,' and the 'Pastor,' and some
other of the persons introduced. And first of the principal one, the
'Wanderer.'
My lamented friend Southey (for this is written a month after his
decease[12]) used to say that had he been a Papist, the course of life
which would in all probability have been his, was the one for which he
was most fitted and most to his mind, that of a Benedictine Monk, in a
Convent, furnished, as many once were, and some still are, with an
inexhaustible library. _Books_, as appears from many passages in his
writings, and was evident to those who had opportunities of observing
his daily life, were, in fact, _his passion_; and _wandering_, I can
with truth affirm, was mine; but this propensity in me was happily
counteracted by inability from want of fortune to fulfil my wishes.
[12] Which took place in March, 1843.
But had I been born in a class which would have deprived me of what is
called a liberal education, it is not unlikely that, being strong in
body, I should have taken to a way of life such as that in which my
'Pedlar' passed the greater part of his days. At all events, I am here
called upon freely to acknowledge that the character I have represented
in his person is chiefly an idea of what I fancied my own character
might have become in his circumstances.
Nevertheless much of what he says and does had an external existence,
that fell under my own youthful and subsequent observation.
An individual, named Patrick, by birth and education a Scotchman,
followed this humble occupation for many years, and afterwards settled
in the town of Kendal. He married a kinswoman of my wife's, and her
sister Sarah was brought up from early childhood under this good man's
eye.[13] My own imaginations I was happy to find clothed in reality, and
fresh ones suggested, by what she reported of this man's tenderness of
heart, his strong and pure imagination, and his solid attainments in
literature, chiefly religious, whether in prose or verse. At Hawkshead
also, while I was a school-boy, there occasionally resided a packman
(the name then generally given to this calling), with whom I had
frequent conversations upon what had befallen him, and what he had
observed during his wandering life, and, as was natural, we took much to
each other; and upon the subject of Pedlarism in general, as _then_
followed, and its favourableness to an intimate knowledge of human
concerns, not merely among the humbler classes of society, I need say
nothing here in addition to what is to be found in 'The Excursion,' and
a note attached to it.
[13] In pencil on opposite page--Sarah went to Kendal on our mother's
death, but Mr. P. died in the course of a year or two. M.W.
Now for the _Solitary_. Of him I have much less to say. Not long after
we took up our abode at Grasmere, came to reside there, from what motive
I either never knew or have forgotten, a Scotchman, a little past the
middle of life, who had for many years been chaplain to a Highland
regiment. He was in no respect, as far as I know, an interesting
character, though in his appearance there was a good deal that attracted
attention, as if he had been shattered in for bane, and not happy in
mind. Of his quondam position I availed myself to connect with the
'Wanderer,' also a Scotchman, a character suitable to my purpose, the
elements of which I drew from several persons with whom I had been
connected, and who fell under my observation during frequent residences
in London at the beginning of the French Revolution. The chief of these
was, one may now say, a Mr. Fawcett, a preacher at a Dissenting
meeting-house at the Old Jewry. It happened to me several times to be
one of his congregation through my connection with Mr. Nicholson of
Cateaton Street, Strand, who, at a time when I had not many
acquaintances in London, used often to invite me to dine with him on
Sundays; and I took that opportunity (Mr. N. being a Dissenter) of going
to hear Fawcett, who was an able and eloquent man. He published a poem
on War, which had a good deal of merit, and made me think more about him
than I should otherwise have done. But his Christianity was probably
never very deeply rooted; and, like many others in those times of like
shewy talents, he had not strength of character to withstand the effects
of the French Revolution, and of the wild and lax opinions which had
done so much towards producing it, and far more in carrying it forward
in its extremes. Poor Fawcett, I have been told, became pretty much such
a person as I have described, and early disappeared from the stage,
having fallen into habits of intemperance, which I have heard (though I
will not answer for the fact) hastened his death. Of him I need say no
more. There were many like him at that time, which the world will never
be without, but which were more numerous then, for reasons too obvious
to be dwelt upon.
_The Pastor_.--To what is said of the 'Pastor' in the poem, I have
little to add but what may be deemed superfluous. It has ever appeared
to me highly favourable to the beneficial influence of the Church of
England upon all gradations and classes of society, that the patronage
of its benefices is in numerous instances attached to the estates of
noble families of ancient gentry; and accordingly I am gratified by the
opportunity afforded me in 'The Excursion,' to pourtray the character of
a country clergyman of more than ordinary talents, born and bred in the
upper ranks of society so as to partake of their refinements, and at the
same time brought by his pastoral office and his love of rural life into
intimate connection with the peasantry of his native district.
To illustrate the relation which in my mind this 'Pastor' bore to the
'Wanderer,' and the resemblances between them, or rather the points of
community in their nature, I likened one to an oak, and the other to a
sycamore; and having here referred to this comparison, I need only add,
I had no one individual in my mind, wishing rather to embody this idea
than to break in upon the simplicity of it by traits of individual
character, or of any peculiarity of opinion.
And now for a few words upon the scene where these interviews and
conversations are supposed to occur.
The scene of the first book of the poem is, I must own, laid in a tract
of country not sufficiently near to that which soon comes into view in
the second book, to agree with the fact. All that relates to Margaret,
and the ruined cottage, &c., was taken from observations made in the
south-west of England, and certainly it would require more than
seven-leagued boots to stretch in one morning from a common in
Somersetshire, or Dorsetshire, to the heights of Furness Fells, and the
deep valleys they embosom. For this dealing with space, I need make, I
trust, no apology; but my friends may be amused by the truth.
In the poem, I suppose that the Pedlar and I ascended from a plain
country up the vale of Langdale, and struck off a good way above the
chapel to the western side of the Vale. We ascended the hill, and thence
looked down upon the circular recess in which lies Blea Tarn, chosen by
the 'Solitary' for his retreat. After we quit his cottage, passing over
a low ridge, we descend into another Vale, that of Little Langdale,
towards the head of which stands embowered, or partly shaded by yews and
other trees, something between a cottage and a mansion, or gentleman's
house, such as they once were in this country. This I convert into the
parsonage, and at the same time, and as by the waving of a magic wand, I
turn the comparatively confined Vale of Langdale, its tarn, and the rude
chapel which once adorned the valley, into the stately and comparatively
spacious Vale of Grasmere and its ancient parish church; and upon the
side of Loughrigg Fell, at the foot of the Lake, and looking down upon
it and the whole Vale and its accompanying mountains, the 'Pastor' is
supposed by me to stand, when at sunset he addresses his companions in
words which I hope my readers may remember,[14] or I should not have
taken the trouble of giving so much in detail the materials on which my
mind actually worked.
[14] Excursion; book the last, near the conclusion.
Now for a few particulars of _fact_, respecting the persons whose
stories are told or characters described by the different speakers. To
Margaret I have already alluded. I will add here that the lines
beginning,
'She was a woman of a steady mind,'
and,
'Live on earth a life of happiness,'
faithfully delineate, as far as they go, the character possessed in
common by many women whom it has been my happiness to know in humble
life; and that several of the most touching things which she is
represented as saying and doing are taken from actual observation of the
distresses and trials under which different persons were suffering,
some of them strangers to me, and others daily under my notice.
I was born too late to have a distinct remembrance of the origin of the
American war; but the state in which I represent Robert's mind to be, I
had frequent opportunities of observing at the commencement of our
rupture with France in 1793; opportunities of which I availed myself in
the story of the 'Female Vagrant,' as told in the poem on 'Guilt and
Sorrow.' The account given by the 'Solitary,' towards the close of the
second book, in all that belongs to the character of the old man, was
taken from a Grasmere pauper, who was boarded in the last house quitting
the Vale on the road to Ambleside; the character of his hostess, and all
that befell the poor man upon the mountain, belongs to Paterdale. The
woman I knew well; her name was Ruth Jackson, and she was exactly such a
person as I describe. The ruins of the old chapel, among which the old
man was found lying, may yet be traced, and stood upon the ridge that
divides Paterdale from Boardale and Martindale, having been placed there
for the convenience of both districts. The glorious appearance disclosed
above and among the mountains, was described partly from what my friend
Mr. Luff, who then lived in Paterdale, witnessed upon this melancholy
occasion, and partly from what Mrs. Wordsworth and I had seen, in
company with Sir G. and Lady Beaumont, above Hartshope Hall, in our way
from Paterdale to Ambleside.
And now for a few words upon the church, its monuments, and of the
deceased who are spoken of as lying in the surrounding churchyard. But
first for the one picture given by the 'Wanderer' of the living. In this
nothing is introduced but what was taken from Nature, and real life. The
cottage was called Hackett, and stands, as described, on the southern
extremity of the ridge which separates the two Langdales. The pair who
inhabited it were called Jonathan and Betty Yewdale. Once when our
children were ill, of whooping-cough I think, we took them for change of
air to this cottage, and were in the habit of going there to drink tea
upon fine summer afternoons; so that we became intimately acquainted
with the characters, habits, and lives of these good, and let me say, in
the main, wise people. The matron had, in her early youth, been a
servant in a house at Hawkshead, where several boys boarded, while I
was a school-boy there. I did not remember her as having served in that
capacity; but we had many little anecdotes to tell to each other of
remarkable boys, incidents, and adventures, which had made a noise in
their day in that small town. These two persons were induced afterwards
to settle at Rydal, where they both died.
_Church and Churchyard_.--The church, as already noticed, is that of
Grasmere. The interior of it has been improved lately and made warmer by
underdrawing the roof, and raising the floor; but the rude and antique
majesty of its former appearance has been impaired by painting the
rafters; and the oak benches, with a simple rail at the back dividing
them from each other, have given way to seats that have more the
appearance of pews. It is remarkable that, excepting only the pew
belonging to Rydal Hall, that to Rydal Mount, the one to the parsonage,
and, I believe, another, the men and women still continue, as used to be
the custom in Wales, to sit separate from each other. Is this practice
as old as the Reformation? and when and how did it originate? In the
Jewish synagogues, and in Lady Huntingdon's chapels, the sexes are
divided in the same way. In the adjoining churchyard greater changes
have taken place; it is now not a little crowded with tombstones; and
near the schoolhouse, which stands in the churchyard, is an ugly
structure, built to receive the hearse, which is recently come into use.
It would not be worth while to allude to this building, or the
hearse-vehicle it contains, but that the latter has been the means of
introducing a change much to be lamented in the mode of conducting
funerals among the mountains. Now, the coffin is lodged in the hearse at
the door of the house of the deceased, and the corpse is so conveyed to
the churchyard gate. All the solemnity which formerly attended its
progress, as described in this poem, is put an end to. So much do I
regret this, that I beg to be excused for giving utterance here to a
wish that, should it befall me to die at Rydal Mount, my own body may be
carried to Grasmere Church after the manner in which, till lately, that
of every one was borne to the place of sepulchre here, namely, on the
shoulders of neighbours; no house being passed without some words of a
funeral psalm being sung at the time by the attendants bearing it. When
I put into the mouth of the 'Wanderer,' 'Many precious rites and customs
of our rural ancestry are gone, or stealing from us,' 'this, I hope,
will last for ever,' and what follows, little did I foresee that the
observance and mode of proceeding which had often affected me so much
would so soon be superseded.
Having said much of the injury done to this churchyard, let me add, that
one is at liberty to look forward to a time when, by the growth of the
yew-trees thriving there, a solemnity will be spread over the place that
will in some degree make amends for the old simple character which has
already been so much encroached upon, and will be still more every year.
I will here set down, by way of memorial, that my friend Sir G.
Beaumont, having long ago purchased the beautiful piece of water called
Loughrigg Tarn, on the banks of which he intended to build, I told him
that a person in Kendal who was attached to the place wished to purchase
it. Sir George, finding the possession of no use to him, consented to
part with it, and placed the purchase-money, 20_l._, at my disposal, for
any local use which I thought proper. Accordingly, I resolved to plant
yew-trees in the churchyard; and had four pretty strong large oak
enclosures made, in each of which was planted under my own eye, and
principally, if not entirely, by my own hand, two young trees, with the
intention of leaving the one that throve best to stand. Many years
after, Mr. Barber, who will long be remembered in Grasmere, Mr.
Greenwood (the chief landed proprietor), and myself, had four other
enclosures made in the churchyard at our own expense, in each of which
was planted a tree taken from its neighbour, and they all stand thriving
admirably, the fences having been removed as no longer necessary. May
the trees be taken care of hereafter, when we are all gone; and some of
them will perhaps, at some far-distant time, rival the majesty of the
yew of Lorton, and those which I have described as growing at
Borrowdale, where they are still to be seen in grand assemblage.
And now for the persons that are selected as lying in the churchyard.
But first for the individual whose grave is prepared to receive him.
His story is here truly related. He was a schoolfellow of mine for some
years. He came to us when he was at least seventeen years of age, very
tall, robust, and full grown. This prevented him from falling into the
amusements and games of the school; consequently, he gave more time to
books. He was not remarkably bright or quick, but, by industry, he made
a progress more than respectable. His parents not being wealthy enough
to send him to college when he left Hawkshead, he became a schoolmaster,
with a view to preparing himself for holy orders. About this time he
fell in love, as related in the poem, and every thing followed as there
described, except that I do not know exactly when and where he died. The
number of youths that came to Hawkshead school from the families of the
humble yeomanry, to be educated to a certain degree of scholarship, as a
preparation for the church, was considerable; and the fortunes of those
persons in after life various of course, and some not a little
remarkable. I have now one of this class in my eye who became an usher
in a preparatory school, and ended in making a large fortune. His
manners, when he came to Hawkshead, were as uncouth as well could be;
but he had good abilities, with skill to turn them to account, and when
the master of the school to which he was usher died, he stept into his
place, and became proprietor of the establishment. He continued to
manage it with such address, and so much to the taste of what is called
high society and the fashionable world, that no school of the kind, even
till he retired, was in such high request. Ministers of State, the
wealthiest gentry, and nobility of the first rank, vied with each other
in bespeaking a place for their sons in the seminary of this fortunate
teacher. [In pencil on opposite page--Mr. Pearson.] In the solitude of
Grasmere, while living as a married man in a cottage of 8_l._ per annum
rent, I often used to smile at the tales which reached me of the
brilliant career of this quondam clown--for such in reality he was, in
manners and appearance, before he was polished a little by attrition
with gentlemen's sons trained at Hawkshead, rough and rude as many of
our families were. Not 200 yards from the cottage in Grasmere just
mentioned, to which I retired, this gentleman, who many years afterwards
purchased a small estate in the neighbourhood, is now erecting a
boat-house, with an upper story to be resorted to as an entertaining
room when he and his associates may feel inclined to take their pastime
on the Lake. Every passenger will be disgusted with the sight of this
edifice, not merely as a tasteless thing in itself, but as utterly out
of place, and peculiarly fitted, as far as it is observed (and it
obtrudes itself on notice at every point of view), to mar the beauty
and destroy the pastoral simplicity of the Vale. For my own part, and
that of my household, it is our utter detestation, standing by a shore
to which, before the high road was made to pass that way, we used daily
and hourly to repair for seclusion and for the shelter of a grove, under
which I composed many of my poems--the 'Brothers' especially; and for
this reason we gave the grove that name. 'That which each man loved and
prized in his peculiar nook of earth dies with him or is changed.' So
much for my old schoolfellow and his exploits. I will only add that, as
the foundation has twice failed, from the Lake no doubt being intolerant
of the intrusion, there is some ground for hoping that the impertinent
structure will not stand. It has been rebuilt in somewhat better taste,
and much as one wishes it away, it is not now so very unsightly. The
structure is an emblem of the man. Perseverance has conquered
difficulties, and given something of form and polish to rudeness. [In
pencil on opposite page--This boat-house, badly built, gave way, and was
rebuilt. It again tumbled, and was a third time reconstructed, but in a
better fashion than before. It is not now, _per se_, an ugly building,
however obtrusive it may be.]
The Miner, next described as having found his treasure after twice ten
years of labour, lived in Paterdale, and the story is true to the
letter. It seems to me, however, rather remarkable, that the strength of
mind which had supported him through his long unrewarded labour, did not
enable him to bear its successful issue. Several times in the course of
my life I have heard of sudden influxes of great wealth being followed
by derangement; and, in one instance, the shock of good fortune was so
great as to produce absolute idiotcy. But these all happened where there
had been little or no previous effort to acquire the riches, and
therefore such a consequence might the more naturally be expected, than
in the case of the solitary miner. In reviewing his story, one cannot
but regret that such perseverance was not sustained by a worthier
object. Archimedes leaped out of his bath and ran about the streets,
proclaiming his discovery in a transport of joy; but we are not told
that he lost either his life or his senses in consequence.
The next character, to whom the priest is led by contrast with the
resoluteness displayed by the foregoing, is taken from a person born
and bred in Grasmere, by name Dawson, and whose talents, dispositions,
and way of life, were such as are here delineated. I did not know him,
but all was fresh in memory when we settled at Grasmere in the beginning
of the century. From this point the conversation leads to the mention of
two individuals, who by their several fortunes were, at different times,
driven to take refuge at the small and obscure town of Hawkshead on the
skirt of these mountains. Their stories I had from the dear old dame
with whom, as a school-boy, and afterwards, I lodged for the space of
nearly ten years. The elder, the Jacobite, was named Drummond, and was
of a high family in Scotland; the Hanoverian Whig bore the name of
Vandeput,[15] and might, perhaps, be a descendant of some Dutchman who
had come over in the train of King William. At all events, his zeal was
such, that he ruined himself by a contest for the representation of
London or Westminster, undertaken to support his Party, and retired to
this corner of the world, selected as it had been by Drummond for that
obscurity which, since visiting the Lakes became fashionable, it has no
longer retained. So much was this region considered out of the way till
a late period, that persons who had fled from justice used often to
resort hither for concealment, and some were so bold as to not
unfrequently make excursions from the place of their retreat for the
purpose of committing fresh offences. Such was particularly the case
with two brothers of the name of Weston, who took up their abode at Old
Brathay, I think about seventy years ago. They were highwaymen, and
lived there some time without being discovered, though it was known that
they often disappeared, in a way, and upon errands, which could not be
accounted for. Their horses were noticed as being of a choice breed, and
I have heard from the Relph family, one of whom was a saddler in the
town of Kendal, that they were curious in their saddles, and housings,
and accoutrements of their horses. They, as I have heard, and as was
universally believed, were, in the end, both taken and hanged.
[15] Sir George Vandeput.
_Tall was her stature, her complexion dark, and saturnine_.--This person
lived at Town-End, and was almost our next neighbour. I have little to
notice concerning her beyond what is said in the poem. She was a most
striking instance how far a woman may surpass in talent, in knowledge,
and culture of mind, those with and among whom she lives, and yet fall
below them in Christian virtues of the heart and spirit. It seemed
almost, and I say it with grief, that in proportion as she excelled in
the one, she failed in the other. How frequently has one to observe in
both sexes the same thing, and how mortifying is the reflection!
_As on a sunny bank the tender lamb_.--The story that follows was told
to Mrs. Wordsworth and my sister, by the sister of this unhappy young
woman. Every particular was exactly as I have related. The party was not
known to me, though she lived at Hawkshead; but it was after I left
school. The clergyman who administered comfort to her in her distress I
knew well. Her sister, who told the story, was the wife of a leading
yeoman in the Vale of Grasmere, and they were an affectionate pair, and
greatly respected by every one who knew them. Neither lived to be old;
and their estate, which was, perhaps, the most considerable then in the
Vale, and was endeared to them by many remembrances of a salutary
character, not easily understood or sympathised with by those who are
born to great affluence, past to their eldest son, according to the
practice of these Vales, who died soon after he came into possession. He
was an amiable and promising youth, but was succeeded by an only
brother, a good-natured man, who fell into habits of drinking, by which
he gradually reduced his property, and the other day the last acre of it
was sold, and his wife and children, and he himself still surviving,
have very little left to live upon; which it would not, perhaps, have
been worth while to record here, but that through all trials this woman
has proved a model of patience, meekness, affectionate forbearance, and
forgiveness. Their eldest son, who through the vices of his father has
thus been robbed of an ancient family inheritance, was never heard to
murmur or complain against the cause of their distress, and is now,
deservedly, the chief prop of his mother's hopes.