is, perhaps, not a page of them that he did not read me in MS.; and
several of the Dialogues are upon subjects which we have often
discussed. I am greatly interested with much of the book; but upon its
effect as a whole I can yet form no opinion, as it was read to me as it
happened to be written. I need scarcely say that Mr. Southey ranks very
highly, in my opinion, as a prose writer. His style is eminently clear,
lively, and unencumbered, and his information unbounded; and there is a
moral ardour about his compositions which nobly distinguishes them from
the trading and factious authorship of the present day. He may not
improbably be our companion in Wales next year. At the end of this month
he goes, with his family, to the Isle of Man for sea-air; and said, if I
would accompany him, and put off the Welsh tour for another year, he
would join our party. Notwithstanding the inducement, I could not bring
myself to consent; but as things now are, I shall remind him of the hope
he held out.
Believe me, very faithfully, yours,
WM. WORDSWORTH.
There is no probability of my being in town this season. I have a
horror of smoking; and nothing but a necessity for health's sake could
reconcile me to it in William.[74]
[74] _Memoirs_, ii. 22.
44. _Of alleged Changes in Political Opinions_.
LETTER TO A FRIEND, 1821.
In the year 1821 (October 7) an old friend of Wordsworth thus writes to
him: 'They tell me you have changed your opinions upon many subjects
respecting which we used to think alike; but I am persuaded we shall
neither of us change those great principles which ought to guide us in
our conduct, and lead us to do all the good we can to others. And I am
much mistaken if we should not find many things to talk about without
disturbing ourselves with political or party disputes.'
To this Wordsworth answered as follows:
Rydal Mount, Dec. 4. 1821.
MY DEAR L----,
Your letter ought to have been much earlier acknowledged, and would have
been so, had I not been sure you would ascribe my silence to its true
cause, viz. procrastination, and not to indifference to your kind
attention. There was another feeling which both urged and indisposed me
to write to you,--I mean the allusion which, in so friendly a manner,
you make to a supposed change in my political opinions. To the
scribblers in pamphlets and periodical publications who have heaped so
much obloquy upon myself and my friends Coleridge and Southey, I have
not condescended to reply, nor ever shall; but to you, my candid and
enlightened friend, I will say a few words on this subject, which, if we
have the good fortune to meet again, as I hope we may, will probably be
further dwelt upon.
I should think that I had lived to little purpose if my notions on the
subject of government had undergone no modification: my youth must, in
that case, have been without enthusiasm, and my manhood endued with
small capability of profiting by reflection. If I were addressing those
who have dealt so liberally with the words renegade, apostate, &c., I
should retort the charge upon them, and say, _you_ have been deluded by
_places_ and _persons_, while I have stuck to _principles_. _I_
abandoned France and her rulers when _they_ abandoned the struggle for
liberty, gave themselves up to tyranny, and endeavoured to enslave the
world. I disapproved of the war against France at its commencement,
thinking, which was, perhaps, an error, that it might have been avoided;
but after Buonaparte had violated the independence of Switzerland, my
heart turned against him, and against the nation that could submit to be
the instrument of such an outrage. Here it was that I parted, in
feeling, from the Whigs, and to a certain degree united with their
adversaries, who were free from the delusion (such I must ever regard
it) of Mr. Fox and his party, that a safe and honourable peace was
practicable with the French nation, and that an ambitious conqueror like
Buonaparte could be softened down into a commercial rival.
In a determination, therefore, to aim at the overthrow of that
inordinate ambition by war, I sided with the ministry, not from general
approbation of their conduct, but as men who thought right on this
essential point. How deeply this question interested me will be plain to
any one who will take the trouble of reading my political sonnets, and
the tract occasioned by the 'Convention of Cintra,' in which are
sufficient evidences of my dissatisfaction with the mode of conducting
the war, and a prophetic display of the course which it would take if
carried on upon the principles of justice, and with due respect for the
feelings of the oppressed nations.
This is enough for foreign politics, as influencing my attachments.
There are three great domestic questions, viz. the liberty of the press,
parliamentary reform, and Roman Catholic concession, which, if I briefly
advert to, no more need be said at present.
A free discussion of public measures through the press I deem the _only_
safeguard of liberty: without it I have neither confidence in kings,
parliaments, judges, or divines: they have all in their turn betrayed
their country. But the press, so potent for good, is scarcely less so
for evil; and unfortunately they who are misled and abused by its means
are the persons whom it can least benefit. It is the fatal
characteristic of their disease to reject all remedies coming from the
quarter that has caused or aggravated the malady. I am _therefore_ for
vigorous restrictions; but there is scarcely any abuse that I would not
endure rather than sacrifice, or even endanger, this freedom.
When I was young (giving myself credit for qualities which I did not
possess, and measuring mankind by that standard) I thought it derogatory
to human nature to set up property in preference to person as a title
for legislative power. That notion has vanished. I now perceive many
advantages in our present complex system of representation which
formerly eluded my observation; this has tempered my ardour for reform:
but if any plan could be contrived for throwing the representation
fairly into the hands of the property of the country, and not leaving it
so much in the hands of the large proprietors as it now is, it should
have my best support; though even in that event there would be a
sacrifice of personal rights, independent of property, that are now
frequently exercised for the benefit of the community.
Be not startled when I say that I am averse to further concessions to
the Roman Catholics. My reasons are, that such concessions will not
produce harmony among the Roman Catholics themselves; that they among
them who are most clamorous for the measure care little about it but as
a step, first, to the overthrow of the Protestant establishment in
Ireland, as introductory to a separation of the two countries--their
ultimate aim; that I cannot consent to take the character of a religion
from the declaration of powerful professors of it disclaiming doctrines
imputed to that religion; that, taking its character from what it
_actually teaches to the great mass_, I believe the Roman Catholic
religion to be unchanged in its doctrines and unsoftened in its
spirit,--how can it be otherwise unless the doctrine of Infallibility be
given up? that such concessions would set all other dissenters in
motion--an issue which has never fairly been met by the friends to
concession; and deeming the Church Establishment not only a fundamental
part of our constitution, but one of the greatest upholders and
propagators of civilization in our own country, and, lastly, the most
effectual and main support of religious Toleration, I cannot but look
with jealousy upon measures which must reduce her relative influence,
unless they be accompanied with arrangements more adequate than any yet
adopted for the preservation and increase of that influence, to keep
pace with the other powers in the community.
I do not apologise for this long letter, the substance of which you may
report to any one worthy of a reply who, in your hearing, may animadvert
upon my political conduct. I ought to have added, perhaps, a word on
_local politics_, but I have not space; but what I should have said may
in a great measure be deduced from the above.
I am, my dear L----,
Yours, &c. &c.,
W.W.[75]
[75] _Memoirs_, ii. 23-27.
45. _Of his Poems and others_.
LETTER TO BERNARD BARTON.
Rydal Mount, near Ambleside, Jan. 12. 1816.
DEAR SIR,
Though my sister, during my absence, has returned thanks in my name for
the verses which you have done me the honour of addressing to me, and
for the obliging letter which accompanies them, I feel it incumbent on
me, on my return home, to write a few words to the same purpose, with my
own hand.
It is always a satisfaction to me to learn that I have given pleasure
upon _rational_ grounds; and I have nothing to object to your poetical
panegyric but the occasion which called it forth. An admirer of my
works, zealous as you have declared yourself to be, condescends too much
when he gives way to an impulse proceeding from the ----, or indeed from
any other Review. The writers in these publications, while they
prosecute their inglorious employment, cannot be supposed to be in a
state of mind very favourable for being affected by the finer influences
of a thing so pure as genuine poetry; and as to the instance which has
incited you to offer me this tribute of your gratitude, though I have
not seen it, I doubt not but that it is a splenetic effusion of the
conductor of that Review, who has taken a perpetual retainer from his
own incapacity to plead against my claims to public approbation.
I differ from you in thinking that the only poetical lines in your
address are 'stolen from myself.' The best verse, perhaps, is the
following:
'Awfully mighty in his impotence,'
which, by way of repayment, I may he tempted to steal from you on some
future occasion.
It pleases, though it does not surprise me, to learn that, having been
affected early in life by my verses, you have returned again to your old
loves after some little infidelities, which you were shamed into by
commerce with the scribbling and chattering part of the world. I have
heard of many who upon their first acquaintance with my poetry have had
much to get over before they could thoroughly relish it; but never of
one who having once learned to enjoy it, had ceased to value it, or
survived his admiration. This is as good an external assurance as I can
desire, that my inspiration is from a pure source, and that my
principles of composition are trustworthy.
With many thanks for your good wishes, and begging leave to offer mine
in return,
I remain,
Dear Sir,
Respectfully yours,
WM. WORDSWORTH.[76]
[76] _Memoirs_, ii. 52-4.
Bernard Barton, Esq., Woodbridge, Suffolk.
46. _Of the Thanksgiving Ode and 'White Doe of Rylston.'_
LETTER TO ROBERT SOUTHEY.
1816.
MY DEAR SOUTHEY,
I am much of your mind in respect to my Ode. Had it been a hymn,
uttering the sentiments of a _multitude_, a _stanza_ would have been
indispensable. But though I have called it a 'Thanksgiving Ode,'
strictly speaking it is not so, but a poem, composed, or supposed to be
composed, on the morning of the thanksgiving, uttering the sentiments of
an _individual_ upon that occasion. It is a _dramatised ejaculation_;
and this, if any thing can, must excuse the irregular frame of the
metre. In respect to a _stanza_ for a grand subject designed to be
treated comprehensively, there are great objections. If the stanza be
short, it will scarcely allow of fervour and impetuosity, unless so
short, as that the sense is run perpetually from one stanza to another,
as in Horace's Alcaics; and if it be long, it will be as apt to generate
diffuseness as to check it. Of this we have innumerable instances in
Spenser and the Italian poets. The sense required cannot he included in
one given stanza, so that another whole stanza is added, not
unfrequently, for the sake of matter which would naturally include
itself in a very few lines.
If Gray's plan be adopted, there is not time to become acquainted with
the arrangement, and to recognise with pleasure the recurrence of the
movement.
Be so good as to let me know where you found most difficulty in
following me. The passage which I most suspect of being misunderstood
is,
'And thus is missed the sole true glory;'
and the passage, where I doubt most about the reasonableness of
expecting that the reader should follow me in the luxuriance of the
imagery and the language, is the one that describes, under so many
metaphors, the spreading of the news of the Waterloo victory over the
globe. Tell me if this displeased you.
Do you know who reviewed 'The White Doe,' in the _Quarterly_? After
having asserted that Mr. W. uses his words without any regard to their
sense, the writer says, that on no other principle can he explain that
Emily is _always_ called 'the consecrated Emily.' Now, the name Emily
occurs just fifteen times in the poem; and out of these fifteen, the
epithet is attached to it _once_, and that for the express purpose of
recalling the scene in which she had been consecrated by her brother's
solemn adjuration, that she would fulfil her destiny, and become a soul,
'By force of sorrows high
Uplifted to the purest sky
Of undisturbed mortality.'
The point upon which the whole moral interest of the piece hinges, when
that speech is closed, occurs in this line,
'He kissed the consecrated maid;'
and to bring back this to the reader, I repeated the epithet.
The service I have lately rendered to Burns' genius[77] will one day be
performed to mine. The quotations, also, are printed with the most
culpable neglect of correctness: there are lines turned into nonsense.
Too much of this. Farewell!
Believe me affectionately yours,
W. WORDSWORTH.[78]
[77] See his 'Letter to a Friend of Burns.'
[78] _Memoirs_, ii. 60-1.
_47. Of Poems in Stanzas_.
LETTER TO ROBERT SOUTHEY.
DEAR SOUTHEY,
* * * * *
My opinion in respect to _epic poetry_ is much the same as the critic
whom Lucien Buonaparte has quoted in his preface. _Epic_ poetry, of the
highest class, requires in the first place an action eminently
influential, an action with a grand or sublime train of consequences; it
next requires the intervention and guidance of beings superior to man,
what the critics I believe call _machinery_; and, lastly, I think with
Dennis, that no subject but a religious one can answer the demand of the
soul in the highest class of this species of poetry. Now Tasso's is a
religious subject, and in my opinion, a most happy one; but I am
confidently of opinion that the _movement_ of Tasso's poem rarely
corresponds with the essential character of the subject; nor do I think
it possible that written in _stanzas_ it should. The celestial movement
cannot, I think, be kept up, if the sense is to be broken in that
despotic manner at the close of every eight lines. Spenser's stanza is
infinitely finer than the _ottaca rhima_, but even Spenser's will not
allow the epic movement as exhibited by Homer, Virgil, and Milton. How
noble is the first paragraph of the _Aeneid_ in point of sound, compared
with the first stanza of the _Jerusalem Delivered_! The one winds with
the majesty of the Conscript Fathers entering the Senate House in solemn
procession; and the other has the pace of a set of recruits shuffling on
the drill-ground, and receiving from the adjutant or drill-serjeant the
commands to halt at every ten or twenty steps. Farewell.
Affectionately yours,
W. WORDSWORTH.[79]
[79] _Memoirs_, ii. 62-3.
48. _The Classics: Translation of Aeneid, &c._
[Laodamia, Dion, &c.] These poems were written in 1814-16. About this
time Wordsworth's attention was given to the education of his eldest
son: this occupation appears to have been the occasion of their
composition. In preparing his son for his university career, he
reperused the principal Latin poets; and doubtless the careful study of
their works was not without a beneficial influence on his own. It
imparted variety and richness to his conceptions, and shed new graces on
his style, and rescued his poems from the charge of mannerism.
Among the fruits of this course of reading, was a translation of some of
the earlier books of VIRGIL'S AENEID. Three books were finished. This
version was not executed in blank verse, but in rhyme; not, however, in
the style of Pope, but with greater freedom and vigour. A specimen of
this translation was contributed by Wordsworth to the _Philological
Museum_, printed at Cambridge in 1832.[80] It was accompanied with the
following letter from the author:--
TRANSLATION OF PART OF THE FIRST BOOK OF THE AENEID.[81]
_To the editor off the Philological Museum_.
Your letter reminding me of an expectation I some time since held out to
you, of allowing some specimens of my translation from the _Aeneid_ to
be printed in the _Philological Museum_, was not very acceptable; for I
had abandoned the thought of ever sending into the world any part of
that experiment--for it was nothing more--an experiment begun for
amusement, and, I now think, a less fortunate one than when I first
named it to you. Having been displeased, in modern translations, with
the additions of incongruous matter, I began to translate with a resolve
to keep clear of that fault, by adding nothing; but I became convinced
that a spirited translation can scarcely be accomplished in the English
language without admitting a principle of compensation. On this point,
however, I do not wish to insist; and merely send the following passage,
taken at random, from a wish to comply with your request.
W.W.[82]
[80] Vol. i. p. 382.
[81] _Philological Museum_, edit. Camb. 1832, vol. i. p. 382.
[82] _Memoirs_, ii. 68-9.
49. _On the same: Letters to Earl Lonsdale_.
MY LORD,
Many thanks for your obliging letter. I shall be much gratified if you
happen to like my translation, and thankful for any remarks with which
you may honour me. I have made so much progress with the second book,
that I defer sending the former till that is finished. It takes in many
places a high tone of passion, which I would gladly succeed in
rendering. When I read Virgil in the original I am moved; but not so
much so by the translation; and I cannot but think this owing to a
defect in the diction, which I have endeavoured to supply, with what
success you will easily be enabled to judge.
Ever, my Lord,
Most faithfully your obliged friend and servant,
WM. WORDSWORTH.[83]
Feb. 5 [1829].
MY LORD,
I am truly obliged by your friendly and frank communication. May I beg
that you would add to the favour, by marking with a pencil some of the
passages that are faulty, in your view of the case? We seem pretty much
of opinion upon the subject of rhyme. Pentameters, where the sense has a
close of some sort at every two lines, may be rendered in regularly
closed couplets; but hexameters (especially the Virgilian, that run the
lines into each other for a great length) cannot. I have long been
persuaded that Milton formed his blank verse upon the model of the
_Georgics_ and the _Aeneid_, and I am so much struck with this
resemblance, that I should have attempted Virgil in blank verse, had I
not been persuaded that no ancient author can be with advantage so
rendered. Their religion, their warfare, their course of action and
feeling, are too remote from modern interest to allow it. We require
every possible help and attraction of sound, in our language, to smooth
the way for the admission of things so remote from our present concerns.
My own notion of translation is, that it cannot be too literal, provided
three faults be avoided: _baldness_, in which I include all that takes
from dignity; and _strangeness_ or _uncouthness_, including harshness;
and lastly, attempts to convey meanings which, as they cannot be given
but by languid circumlocutions, cannot in fact be said to be given at
all. I will trouble you with an instance in which I fear this fault
exists. Virgil, describing Aeneas's voyage, third book, verse 551,
says--
'Hinc sinus Herculei, si vera est fama. Tarenti
Cernitur.'
[83] _Memoirs_, ii. 69.
I render it thus:
'Hence we behold the bay that bears the name
Of proud Tarentum, proud to share the fame
Of Hercules, though by a dubious claim.'
I was unable to get the meaning with tolerable harmony into fewer words,
which are more than to a modern reader, perhaps, it is worth.
I feel much at a loss, without the assistance of the marks which I have
requested, to take an exact measure of your Lordship's feelings with
regard to the diction. To save you the trouble of reference, I will
transcribe two passages from Dryden; first, the celebrated appearance of
Hector's ghost to Aeneas. Aeneas thus addresses him:
'O light of Trojans and support of Troy,
Thy father's champion, and thy country s joy,
O long expected by thy friends, from whence
Art thou returned, so late for our defence?
Do we behold thee, wearied as we are
With length of labours and with toils of war?
After so many funerals of thy own,
Art thou restored to thy declining town?'
This I think not an unfavourable specimen of Dryden's way of treating
the solemnly pathetic passages. Yet, surely, here is _nothing_ of the
_cadence_ of the original, and little of its spirit. The second verse is
not in the original, and ought not to have been in Dryden; for it
anticipates the beautiful hemistich,
'Sat patriae Priamoque datum.'
By the by, there is the same sort of anticipation in a spirited and
harmonious couplet preceding:
'Such as he was when by _Pelides slain_
Thessalian coursers dragged him o'er the plain.'
This introduction of Pelides here is not in Virgil, because it would
have prevented the effect of
'Redit exuvias indutus Achillei.'
There is a striking solemnity in the answer of Pantheus to Aeneas:
'Venit summa dies et ineluctabile tempus
Dardaniae: fuimus TroÎs, fuit Ilium, et ingens
Gloria Teucrorum,' &c.
Dryden thus gives it:
'Then Pantheus, with a groan,
Troy is no more, and Ilium was a town.
The fatal day, the appointed hour is come
When wrathful Jove's irrevocable doom
Transfers the Trojan state to Grecian hands.
The fire consumes the town, the foe commands.'
My own translation runs thus; and I quote it because it occurred to my
mind immediately on reading your Lordship's observations:
'Tis come, the final hour,
Th' inevitable close of Dardan power
Hath come! we _have_ been Trojans, Ilium _was_,
And the great name of Troy; now all things pass
To Argos. So wills angry Jupiter.
Amid a burning town the Grecians domineer.'
I cannot say that '_we have been_,' and 'Ilium _was_,' are as sonorous
sounds as 'fuimus,' and 'fuit;' but these latter must have been as
familiar to the Romans as the former to ourselves. I should much like to
know if your Lordship disapproves of my translation here. I have one
word to say upon ornament. It was my wish and labour that my translation
should have far more of the _genuine_ ornaments of Virgil than my
predecessors. Dryden has been very careless of these, and profuse of his
own, which seem to me very rarely to harmonise with those of Virgil; as,
for example, describing Hector's appearance in the passage above alluded
to,
'A _bloody shroud_, he seemed, and _bath'd_ in tears.
I wept to see the _visionary_ man.'
Again,
'And all the wounds he for his country bore
Now streamed afresh, and with _new purple ran_.'
I feel it, however, to be too probable that my translation is deficient
in ornament, because I must unavoidably have lost many of Virgil's, and
have never without reluctance attempted a compensation of my own. Had I
taken the liberties of my predecessors, Dryden especially, I could have
translated nine books with the labour that three have cost me. The third
book, being of a humbler character than either of the former, I have
treated with rather less scrupulous apprehension, and have interwoven a
little of my own; and, with permission, I will send it, ere long, for
the benefit of your Lordship's observations, which really will be of
great service to me if I proceed. Had I begun the work fifteen years
ago, I should have finished it with pleasure; at present, I fear it will
take more time than I either can or ought to spare. I do not think of
going beyond the fourth book.
As to the MS., be so kind as to forward it at your leisure to me, at Sir
George Beaumont's, Coleorton Hall, near Ashby, whither I am going in
about ten days. May I trouble your Lordship with our respectful
compliments to Lady Lonsdale?
Believe [me] ever
Your Lordship's faithful
And obliged friend and servant,
WM. WORDSWORTH.[84]
[84] _Memoirs_, ii. 69-74.
50. _Tour on the Continent, 1820_.
LETTERS TO THE EARL OF LONSDALE.
Lucerne, Aug. 19. 1820.
MY LORD,
You did me the honour of expressing a wish to hear from me during my
continental tour; accordingly, I have great pleasure in writing from
this place, where we arrived three days ago. Our route has lain through
Brussels, Namur, along the banks of the Meuse, to Liege; thence to
Aix-la-Chapelle, Cologne, and along the Rhine to Mayence, to Frankfort,
Heidelberg (a noble situation, at the point where the Neckar issues from
steep lofty hills into the plain of the Rhine), Carlsruhe, and through
the Black Forest to Schaffhausen; thence to Zurich, Berne, Thun,
Interlachen. Here our Alpine tour might be said to commence, which has
produced much pleasure thus far, and nothing that deserves the name of
difficulty, even for the ladies. From the Valley of Lauterbrunnen we
crossed the Wengern Alp to Grindelwald, and then over the grand Sheideck
to Meyringen. This journey led us over high ground, and for fifteen
leagues along the base of the loftiest Alps, which reared their bare or
snow-clad ridges and pikes, in a clear atmosphere, with fleecy clouds
now and then settling upon and gathering round them. We heard and saw
several avalanches; they are announced by a sound like thunder, but more
metallic and musical. This warning naturally makes one look about, and
we had the gratification of seeing one falling, in the shape and
appearance of a torrent or cascade of foaming water, down the deep-worn
crevices of the steep or perpendicular granite mountains. Nothing can
be more awful than the sound of these cataracts of ice and snow thus
descending, unless it be the silence which succeeds. The elevations from
which we beheld these operations of Nature, and saw such an immense
range of primitive mountains stretching to the east and west, were
covered with rich pasturage and beautiful flowers, among which was
abundance of the monkshood, a flower which I had never seen but in the
trim borders of our gardens, and which here grew not so much in patches
as in little woods or forests, towering above the other plants. At this
season the herdsmen are with their cattle in still higher regions than
those which we have trod, the herbage where we travelled being reserved
till they descend in the autumn. We have visited the Abbey of Engelberg,
not many leagues from the borders of the Lake of Lucerne. The tradition
is, that the site of the abbey was appointed by angels, singing from a
lofty mountain that rises from the plain of the valley, and which, from
having been thus honoured, is called Engelberg, or the Hill of the
Angels. It is a glorious position for such beings, and I should have
thought myself repaid for the trouble of so long a journey by the
impression made upon my mind, when I first came in view of the vale in
which the convent is placed, and of the mountains that enclose it. The
light of the sun had left the valley, and the deep shadows spread over
it heightened the splendour of the evening light, and spread upon the
surrounding mountains, some of which had their summits covered with pure
snow; others were half hidden by vapours rolling round them; and the
Rock of Engelberg could not have been seen under more fortunate
circumstances, for masses of cloud glowing with the reflection of the
rays of the setting sun were hovering round it, like choirs of spirits
preparing to settle upon its venerable head.
To-day we quit this place to ascend the mountain Righi. We shall be
detained in this neighbourhood till our passports are returned from
Berne, signed by the Austrian minister, which we find absolutely
necessary to enable us to proceed into the _Milanese_. At the end of
five weeks at the latest, we hope to reach Geneva, returning by the
Simplon Pass. There I might have the pleasure of hearing from your
Lordship; and may I beg that you would not omit to mention our
Westmoreland politics? The diet of Switzerland is now sitting in this
place. Yesterday I had a long conversation with the Bavarian envoy,
whose views of the state of Europe appear to me very just. This letter
must unavoidably prove dull to your Lordship, but when I have the
pleasure of seeing you, I hope to make some little amends, though I feel
this is a very superficial way of viewing a country, even with reference
merely to the beauties of Nature. We have not met with many English;
there is scarcely a third part as many in the country as there was last
year. A brother of Lord Grey is in the house where we now are, and Lord
Ashburton left yesterday. I must conclude abruptly, with kindest
remembrances to Lady Lonsdale and Lady Mary. Believe me, my Lord, most
faithfully
Your Lordship's
WM. WORDSWORTH.
Paris, Oct. 7 [1820], 45 Rue Charlot,
Boulevards du Temple.
MY LORD,
I had the honour of writing to your Lordship from Lucerne, 19th of
August, giving an account of our movements. We have visited, since,
those parts of Switzerland usually deemed most worthy of notice, and the
Italian lakes, having stopped four days at Milan, and as many at Geneva.
With the exception of a couple of days on the Lake of Geneva, the
weather has been most favourable, though frequently during the last
fortnight extremely cold. We have had no detention from illness, nor any
bad accident, for which we feel more grateful, on account of some of our
fellow travellers, who accidentally joined us for a few days. Of these,
one, an American gentleman, was drowned in the Lake of Zurich, by the
upsetting of a boat in a storm, two or three days after he parted with
us; and two others, near the summit of Mount Jura, and in the middle of
a tempestuous night, were precipitated, they scarcely knew how far,
along with one of those frightful and ponderous vehicles, a continental
diligence. We have been in Paris since Sunday last, and think of staying
about a fortnight longer, as scarcely less will suffice for even a hasty
view of the town and neighbourhood. We took Fontainebleau in our way,
and intend giving a day to Versailles. The day we entered Paris we
passed a well-drest young man and woman, dragging a harrow through a
field, like cattle; nevertheless, working in the fields on the sabbath
day does not appear to be general in France. On the same day a
wretched-looking person begged of us, as the carriage was climbing a
hill. Nothing could exceed his transport in receiving a pair of old
pantaloons which were handed out of the carriage. This poor mendicant,
the postilion told us, was an _ancien CurÈ_. The churches seem generally
falling into decay in the country. We passed one which had been recently
repaired. I have noticed, however, several young persons, men as well as
women, earnestly employed in their devotions, in different churches,
both in Paris and elsewhere. Nothing which I have seen in this city has
interested me at all like the Jardin des Plantes, with the living
animals, and the Museum of Natural History which it includes. Scarcely
could I refrain from tears of admiration at the sight of this apparently
boundless exhibition of the wonders of the creation. The statues and
pictures of the Louvre affect me feebly in comparison. The exterior of
Paris is much changed since I last visited it in 1792. I miss many
ancient buildings, particularly the Temple, where the poor king and his
family were so long confined. That memorable spot, where the Jacobin
Club was held, has also disappeared. Nor are the additional buildings
always improvements; the Pont des Arts, in particular, injures the view
from the Pont Neuf greatly; but in these things public convenience is
the main point.
I say nothing of public affairs, for I have little opportunity of
knowing anything about them. In respect to the business of our Queen, we
deem ourselves truly fortunate in having been out of the country at a
time when an inquiry, at which all Europe seems scandalised, was going
on.
I have purposely deferred congratulating your Lordship on the marriage
of Lady Mary with Lord Frederick Bentinck, which I hear has been
celebrated. My wishes for her happiness are most earnest.
With respectful compliments and congratulations to Lady Lonsdale, in
which Mrs. Wordsworth begs leave to join,
I have the honour to be,
My Lord,
Your Lordship's
Obliged and faithful friend and servant,
WM. WORDSWORTH.[85]
[85] _Memoirs_, ii. 90-104.
51. _Shakespeare's Cliff at Dover_.
How strange that the description of Dover Cliff, in _King Lear_, should
ever have been supposed to have been meant for a reality! I know nothing
that more forcibly shows the little reflection with which even men of
sense read poetry. The cliff cannot be more than 400 feet high; and yet,
'how truly,' exclaims the historian of Dover, 'has Shakespeare described
the precipice!' How much better would the historian have done, had he
given us its actual elevation![86]
[86] _Memoirs_, ii. 116.
52. _Of Affairs on the Continent_, 1828.
LETTER TO A NEPHEW.
Rydal Mount, Nov. 27. 1828.
MY DEAR C----,
It gives me much pleasure to learn that your residence in France has
answered so well. As I had recommended the step, I felt more especially
anxious to be informed of the result. I have only to regret that you did
not tell me whether the interests of a foreign country and a brilliant
metropolis had encroached more upon the time due to academical studies
than was proper.
As to the revolution which Mr. D---- calculates upon, I agree with him
that a great change must take place, but not altogether, or even mainly,
from the causes which he looks to, if I be right in conjecturing that he
expects that the religionists who have at present such influence over
the king's mind will be predominant. The extremes to which they wish to
carry things are not sufficiently in the spirit of the age to suit their
purpose. The French monarchy must undergo a great change, or it will
fall altogether. A constitution of government so disproportioned cannot
endure. A monarchy, without a powerful aristocracy or nobility
graduating into a gentry, and so downwards, cannot long subsist. This is
wanting in France, and must continue to be wanting till the restrictions
imposed on the disposal of property by will, through the Code Napoleon,
are done away with: and it may be observed, by the by, that there is a
bareness, some would call it a simplicity, in that code which unfits it
for a complex state of society like that of France, so that evasions
and stretchings of its provisions are already found necessary, to a
degree which will ere long convince the French people of the necessity
of disencumbering themselves of it. But to return. My apprehension is,
that for the cause assigned, the French monarchy may fall before an
aristocracy can be raised to give it necessary support. The great
monarchies of Russia, Prussia, and Austria, having not yet been subject
to popular revolutions, are still able to maintain themselves, through
the old feudal _forces_ and qualities, with something, not much, of the
feudal _virtues_. This cannot be in France; popular inclinations are
much too strong--thanks, I will say so far, to the Revolution. How is a
government fit for her condition to be supported, but by religion, and a
spirit of honour, or refined conscience? Now religion, in a widely
extended country plentifully peopled, cannot be preserved from abuse of
priestly influence, and from superstition and fanaticism, nor honour be
an operating principle upon a large scale, except through
_property_--that is, such accumulations of it, graduated as I have
mentioned above, through the community. Thus and thus only can be had
exemption from temptation to low habits of mind, leisure for solid
education, and dislike to innovation, from a sense in the several
classes how much they have to lose; for circumstances often make men
wiser, or at least more discreet, when their individual levity or
presumption would dispose them to be much otherwise. To what extent that
constitution of character which is produced by property makes up for the
decay of chivalrous loyalty and strengthens governments, may be seen by
comparing the officers of the English army with those of Prussia, &c.
How far superior are ours as gentlemen! so much so that British officers
can scarcely associate with those of the Continent, not from pride, but
instinctive aversion to their low propensities. But I cannot proceed,
and ought, my dear C----, to crave your indulgence for so long a prose.
When you see Frere, pray give him my kind regards, and say that he shall
hear from me the first frank I can procure. Farewell, with kindest love
from all,
Yours, very affectionately,
W.W.[87]
[87] _Memoirs_, ii. 129-131.
53. _Style: Francis Edgeworth's 'Dramatic Fragment:' Criticisms_. I
should say [to your young friend] style is in Poetry of incalculable
importance. He seems, however, aware of it, for his diction is obviously
studied. Now the great difficulty is to determine what constitutes a
good style. In estimating this we are all subject to delusion, not
improbably I am so, when it appears to me that the metaphor in the first
speech of his dramatic scene is too much drawn out. It does not pass off
as rapidly as metaphors ought to do, I think, in dramatic writing. I am
well aware that our early dramatists abound with these continuities of
imagery, but to me they appear laboured and unnatural, at least unsuited
to that species of composition, of which action and motion are the
essentials. 'While with the ashes of a light that was,' and the two
following lines, are in the best style of dramatic writing. To every
opinion thus given always add, I pray you, 'in my judgment,' though I
may not, to save trouble or to avoid a charge of false modesty, express
it. 'This over-pressure of a heavy pleasure,' &c., is admirable; and,
indeed, it would be tedious to praise all that pleases me. Shelley's
'Witch of Atlas' I never saw; therefore the stanza referring to
Narcissus and her was read by me to some disadvantage. One observation I
am about to make will at least prove I am no flatterer, and will
therefore give a qualified value to my praise.
'There was nought there that morn
But thrice three antient hills _alone_.'
Here the word 'alone,' being used instead of only, makes an absurdity
like that noticed in the _Spectator_--'Enter a king and three fidlers
_solus_.'[88]
54. _Of the 'IcÙn BasilikÈ,' &c._ LETTER TO SOUTHEY.
MY DEAR S----,
I am ashamed not to have done your message about the _IcÙn_ to my
brother.[89]
[88] Extract of Letter to Professor Hamilton, 12th Feb. 1829, here first
printed. G. [F9] This refers to Dr. Wordsworth's volume on the authorship
of _IcÙn BasilikÈ_. London, 1824.
I have no excuse, but that at that time both my body and my memory were
run off their legs. I am very glad you thought the answer[90] appeared
to you triumphant, for it had struck me as in the main point, knowledge
of the subject, and spirit in the writing, and accuracy in the logic, as
one of the best controversial tracts I ever had.
I am glad you have been so busy; I wish I could say so much of myself. I
have written this last month, however, about 600 verses, with tolerable
success.
Many thanks for the review: your article is excellent. I only wish that
you had said more of the deserts of government in respect to Ireland;
since I do sincerely believe that no government in Europe has shown
better dispositions to its subjects than the English have done to the
Irish, and that no country has improved so much during the same period.
You have adverted to this part of the subject, but not spoken so
forcibly as I could have wished. There is another point might be
insisted upon more expressly than you have done--the danger, not to say
the absurdity, of Roman Catholic legislation for the property of a
_Protestant_ church, so inadequately _represented in Parliament_ as ours
is. The Convocation is gone; clergymen are excluded from the House of
Commons; and the Bishops are at the beck of Ministers. I boldly ask what
real property of the country is so inadequately represented: it is a
mere mockery.
Most affectionately yours,
W.W.[91]
[90] This alludes to Dr. Wordsworth's second publication, entitled 'King
Charles the First the Author of _IcÙn BasilikÈ_.' London, 1828.
[91] _Memoirs_, ii. 132-3.
55. _Of the Roman Catholic Question_.
LETTER TO G. HUNTLY GORDON, ESQ.
Rydal Mount, Thursday Night, Feb. 26. 1829.
You ask for my opinion on the Roman Catholic Question.
I dare scarcely trust my pen to the notice of the question which the
Duke of Wellington tells us is about to be _settled_. One thing no
rational person will deny, that the experiment is hazardous. Equally
obvious is it that the timidity, supineness, and other unworthy
qualities of the government for many years past have produced the
danger, the extent of which they now affirm imposes a necessity of
granting all that the Romanists demand. Now, it is rather too much that
the country should be called upon to take the measure of this danger
from the very men who may almost be said to have created it. Danger is a
relative thing, and the first requisite for judging of what we have to
dread from the physical force of the Roman Catholics is to be in
sympathy with the Protestants. Had our Ministers been so, could they
have suffered themselves to be bearded by the Catholic Association for
so many years?
C----, if I may take leave to say it, loses sight of _things_ in
_names_, when he says that they should not be admitted as Roman
Catholics, but simply as British subjects. The question before us is,
Can Protestantism and Popery be coordinate powers in the constitution of
a _free_ country, and at the same time Christian belief be in that
country a vital principle of action?
I fear not. Heaven grant I may be deceived!
W.W.[92]
[92] _Memoirs_, ii. 134.
56. _Of the Roman Catholic Emancipation Bill_.
LETTER TO THE EARL OF LONSDALE.
Rydal Mount, Wednesday.
MY LORD,
* * * * *
There is one point also delicate to touch upon and hazardous to deal
with, but of prime importance in this crisis. The question, as under the
conduct of the present Ministers, is closely connecting itself with
religion. Now after all, if we are to be preserved from utter confusion,
it is religion and morals, and conscience, which must do the work. The
religious part of the community, especially those attached to the Church
of England, must and _do_ feel that neither the Church as an
establishment, nor its points of Faith as a church, nor Christianity
itself as governed by Scripture, ought to be left long, if it can be
prevented, in the hands which manage our affairs.
But I am running into unpardonable length. I took up the pen principally
to express a hope that your Lordship may have continued to see the
question in the light which affords the only chance of preserving the
nation from several generations perhaps of confusion, and crime, and
wretchedness.
Excuse the liberty I have taken,
And believe me most faithfully,
Your Lordship's
Much obliged,
W. WORDSWORTH.[93]
[93] _Memoirs_, ii. 135.
57. _Of Ireland and the Poor Laws, &c._
LETTER TO G. HUNTLY GORDON, ESQ.
Rydal Mount, Dec. 1. 1829.
MY DEAR SIR,
You must not go to Ireland without applying to me, as the guide-books
for the most part are sorry things, and mislead by their exaggerations.
If I were a younger man, and could prevail upon an able artist to
accompany me, there are few things I should like better than giving a
month or six weeks to explore the county of Kerry only. A judicious
topographical work on that district would be really useful, both for the
lovers of Nature and the observers of manners. As to the Giant's
Causeway and the coast of Antrim, you cannot go wrong; there the
interests obtrude themselves on every one's notice.
The subject of the Poor Laws was never out of my sight whilst I was in
Ireland; it seems to me next to impossible to introduce a general system
of such laws, principally for two reasons: the vast numbers that would
have equal claims for relief, and the non-existence of a class capable
of looking with effect to their administration. Much is done at present
in many places (Derry, for example) by voluntary contributions; but the
narrow-minded escape from the burthen, which falls unreasonably upon the
charitable; so that assessments in the best-disposed places are to be
wished for, could they be effected without producing a greater evil.
The great difficulty that is complained of in the well-managed places is
the floating poor, who cannot be excluded, I am told, by any existing
law from quartering themselves where they like. Open begging is not
practised in many places, but there is no law by which the poor can be
prevented from returning to a place which they may have quitted
voluntarily, or from which they have been expelled (as I was told). Were
it not for this obstacle compulsory local regulations might, I think, be
applied in many districts with good effect.
It would be unfair to myself to quit this momentous subject without
adding that I am a zealous friend to the great principle of the Poor
Laws, as tending, if judiciously applied, much more to elevate than to
depress the character of the labouring classes. I have never seen this
truth developed as it ought to be in parliament.
The day I dined with Lord F.L. Gower at his official residence in the
Phoenix Park, I met there with an intelligent gentleman, Mr. Page, who
was travelling in Ireland expressly to collect information upon this
subject, which, no doubt, he means to publish. If you should hear of
this pamphlet when it comes out procure it, for I am persuaded it will
prove well worth reading. Farewell.
Faithfully yours,
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.[94]
58. _Of the Earl of Lonsdale: Virgil: Book-buying: Gifts of Books:
Commentaries_.
TWO LETTERS TO THE VENERABLE ARCHDEACON WRANGHAM.
Rydal Mount, Feb. 19. 1819.
DEAR WRANGHAM,
I received your kind letter last night, for which you will accept my
thanks. I write upon the spur of that mark of your regard, or my
aversion to letter-writing might get the better of me.
I find it difficult to speak publicly of good men while alive,
especially if they are persons who have power. The world ascribes the
eulogy to interested motives, or to an adulatory spirit, which I detest.
But of LORD LONSDALE, I will say to you, that I do not think there
exists in England a man of any rank more anxiously desirous to discharge
his duty in that state of life to which it has pleased God to call him.
His thought and exertions are constantly directed to that object; and
the more he is known the more is he beloved, and respected, and admired.
[94] _Memoirs_, ii. 155-6.
I ought to have thanked you before for your version of VIRGIL'S
ECLOGUES, which reached me at last. I have lately compared it line for
line with the original, and think it very well done. I was particularly
pleased with the skill you have shown in managing the contest between
the shepherds in the third Pastoral, where you have included in a
succession of couplets the sense of Virgil's paired hexameters. I think
I mentioned to you that these poems of Virgil have always delighted me
much; there is frequently either an elegance or a happiness which no
translation can hope to equal. In point of fidelity your translation is
very good indeed.
You astonish me with the account of your books; and I should have been
still more astonished if you had told me you had read a third (shall I
say a tenth part?) of them. My reading powers were never very good, and
now they are much diminished, especially by candle-light; and as to
_buying_ books, I can affirm that in _new_ books I have not spent five
shillings for the last five years, _i.e._, in Reviews, Magazines,
Pamphlets, &c. &c.; so that there would be an end of Mr. Longman, and
Mr. Cadell, &c. &c., if nobody had more power or inclination to buy than
myself. And as to old books, my dealings in that way, for want of means,
have been very trifling. Nevertheless, small and paltry as my collection
is, I have not read a fifth part of it. I should, however, like to see
your army.
'Such forces met not, nor so wide a camp,
When Agrican, with fill his _northern_ powers,
Besieged Albracca, as _romances_ tell.'
Not that I accuse you of romancing; I verily believe that you have all
the books you speak of. Dear Wrangham, are you and I ever like to meet
in this world again? _Yours_ is a _corner_ of the earth; _mine_ is _not_
so. I never heard of anybody going to Bridlington; but all the world
comes to the Lakes. Farewell. Excuse this wretched scrawl; it is like
all that proceeds from, my miserable pen.
* * * * *
Ever faithfully yours,
WM. WORDSWORTH.
DEAR WRANGHAM,
You are very good in sending one letter after another to inquire after a
person so undeserving of attentions of this kind as myself. Dr. Johnson,
I think, observes, or rather is made to observe by some of his
biographers, that no man delights to _give_ what he is accustomed to
_sell_. 'For example: you, Mr. Thrale, would rather part with anything
in this way than your porter.' Now, though I have never been much of a
salesman in matters of literature (the whole of my returns--I do not say
_net profits_, but _returns_--from the writing trade, not amounting to
seven score pounds), yet, somehow or other, I manufacture a letter, and
part with it as reluctantly as if it were really a thing of price. But,
to drop the comparison, I have so much to do with writing, in the way of
labour and profession, that it is difficult to me to conceive how
anybody can take up a pen but from constraint. My writing-desk is to me
a place of punishment; and, as my penmanship sufficiently testifies. I
always bend over it with some degree of impatience. All this is said
that you may know the real cause of my silence, and not ascribe it in
any degree to slight or forgetfulness on my part, or an insensibility to
your worth and the value of your friendship.... As to my occupations,
they look little at the present age; but I live in hope of leaving
something behind me that by some minds will be valued.
I see no new books except by the merest accident. Of course your poem,
which I should have been pleased to read, has not found its way to me.
You inquire about old books: you might almost as well have asked for my
teeth as for any of mine. The only _modern_ books that I read are those
of Travels, or such as relate to matters of fact; and the only modern
books that I care for; but as to old ones, I am like yourself--scarcely
anything comes amiss to me. The little time I have to spare--the very
little, I may say--all goes that way. If, however, in the _line of your
profession_ you want any bulky old Commentaries on the Scriptures (such
as not twelve strong men of these degenerate days will venture--I do not
say to _read_, but to _lift_), I can, perhaps, as a special favour,
accommodate you.
I and mine will be happy to see you and yours here or anywhere; but I am
sorry the time you talk of is so distant: a year and a half is a long
time looking forward, though looking back ten times as much is as brief
as a dream. My writing is wholly illegible--at least I fear so; I had
better, therefore, release you.
Believe me, my dear Wrangham,
Your affectionate friend,
W. WORDSWORTH.[95]
59. _Poems of Edward Moxon_.
LETTER TO MOXON.
(Postmark) Dec. 8. 1826.
DEAR SIR,
It is some time since I received your little volume, for which I now
return you my thanks, and also for the obliging letter that accompanied
it.
Your poem I have read with no inconsiderable pleasure; it is full of
natural sentiments and pleasing pictures: among the minor pieces, the
last pleased me much the best, and especially the latter part of it.
This little volume, with what I saw of yourself during a short
interview, interest me in your welfare; and the more so, as I always
feel some apprehension for the destiny of those who in youth addict
themselves to the composition of verse. It is a very seducing
employment, and, though begun in disinterested love of the Muses, is too
apt to connect itself with self-love, and the disquieting passions which
follow in the train of that our natural infirmity. Fix your eye upon
acquiring independence by honourable business, and let the Muses come
after rather than go before. Such lines as the latter of this couplet,
'Where lovely woman, chaste as heaven above.
Shines in the golden virtues of her love,'
and many other passages in your poem, give proof of no common-place
sensibility. I am therefore the more earnest that you should guard
yourself against this temptation.
Excuse this freedom; and believe me, my dear Sir, very faithfully,
Your obliged servant,
WM. WORDSWORTH.[96]
[95] _Memoirs_, ii. 205-9.
[96] _Ibid._ ii. 211-12.
60. _Of Hamilton's 'It haunts me yet' and Miss Hamilton's 'Boys'
School.'_
LETTER TO W.R. HAMILTON, ESQ., OBSERVATORY, NEAR DUBLIN.
Rydal Mount, near Kendal, Sept. 24. 1827.
MY DEAR SIR,
You will have no pain to suffer from my sincerity. With a safe
conscience I can assure you that in my judgment your verses are animated
with true poetic spirit, as they are evidently the product of strong
feeling. The sixth and seventh stanzas affected me much, even to the
dimming of my eye and faltering of my voice while I was reading them
aloud. Having said this, I have said enough; now for the _per contra_.
You will not, I am sure, be hurt, when I tell you that the workmanship
(what else could be expected from so young a writer?) is not what it
ought to be; even in those two affecting stanzas it is not perfect:
'Some touch of human sympathy find way,
And whisper that though Truth's and Science' ray
With such serene effulgence o'er thee shone.'
Sympathy might whisper, but a '_touch_ of sympathy' could not. 'Truth's
and Science' ray,' for the ray of truth and science, is not only
extremely harsh, but a 'ray _shone_' is, if not absolutely a pleonasm, a
great awkwardness: 'a ray fell' or 'shot' may be said, and a sun or a
moon or a candle shone, but not a ray. I much regret that I did not
receive these verses while you were here, that I might have given you,
_viv‚ voce_, a comment upon them, which would be tedious by letter, and
after all very imperfect. If I have the pleasure of seeing you again, I
will beg permission to dissect these verses, or any other you may be
inclined to show me; but I am certain that without conference with me,
or any benefit drawn from my practice in metrical composition, your own
high powers of mind will lead you to the main conclusions.
You will be brought to acknowledge that the logical faculty has
infinitely more to do with poetry than the young and the inexperienced,
whether writer or critic, ever dreams of. Indeed, as the materials upon
which that faculty is exorcised in poetry are so subtle, so plastic, so
complex, the application of it requires an adroitness which can proceed
from nothing but practice, a discernment which emotion is so far from
bestowing that at first it is ever in the way of it. Here I must stop:
only let me advert to two lines:
'But shall despondence therefore _blench_ my _brow_,
Or pining sorrow sickly ardor o'er.'
These are two of the worst lines in mere expression. 'Blench' is perhaps
miswritten for 'blanch;' if not, I don't understand the word. _Blench_
signifies to flinch. If 'blanch' be the word, the next ought to be
'_hair_.' You cannot here use _brow_ for the _hair_ upon it, because a
white brow or forehead is a beautiful characteristic of youth. 'Sickly
ardor o'er' was at first reading to me unintelligible. I took 'sickly'
to be an adjective joined with 'ardor,' whereas you mean it as a portion
of a verb, from Shakspeare, 'Sicklied o'er with the pale cast of
thought.' But the separation of the parts or decomposition of the word,
as here done, is not to be endured.
Let me now come to your sister's verses, for which I thank you. They are
surprisingly vigorous for a female pen, but occasionally too rugged, and
especially for such a subject; they have also the same faults in
expression as your own, but not, I think, in quite an equal degree. Much
is to be hoped from feelings so strong, and from a mind thus disposed. I
should have entered into particulars with these also, had I seen you
after they came into my hands. Your sister is, no doubt, aware that in
her poem she has trodden the same ground as Gray, in his 'Ode upon a
distant Prospect of Eton College.' What he has been contented to treat
in the abstract, she has represented in particular, and with admirable
spirit. But again, my dear Sir, let me exhort you (and do you exhort
your sister) to deal little with modern writers, but fix your attention
almost exclusively upon those who have stood the test of time. _You_
have not leisure to allow of your being tempted to turn aside from the
right course by deceitful lights. My household desire to be remembered
to you in no formal way. Seldom have I parted, never I was going to say,
with one whom after so short an acquaintance, I lost sight of with more
regret. I trust we shall meet again, if not [sentence cut off with the
autograph]. Postscript. Pray do not forget to remember me to Mr. Otway.
I was much pleased with him and with your fellow-traveller Mr. Nimmo,
as I should have been, no doubt, with the young Irishman, had not our
conversation taken so serious a turn. The passage in Tacitus which
Milton's line so strongly resembles is not in the 'Agricola,' nor can I
find it, but it exists somewhere.
W. WORDSWORTH.[97]
61. _Of Collins, Dyer, Thomson, &c._
LETTER TO REV. ALEXANDER DYCE.
Rydal Mount, Kendal, Jan. 12. 1829.
DEAR SIR,
I regret to hear of the indisposition from which you have been
suffering.
That you are convinced[98] gives me great pleasure, as I hope that every
other editor of Collins will follow your example. You are at perfect
liberty to declare that you have rejected Bell's copy in consequence of
my opinion of it; and I feel much satisfaction in being the instrument
of rescuing the memory of Collins from this disgrace. I have always felt
some concern that Mr. Home, who lived several years after Bell's
publication, did not testify more regard for his deceased friend's
memory by protesting against this imposition. Mr. Mackenzie is still
living; and I shall shortly have his opinion upon the question; and if
it be at all interesting, I shall take the liberty of sending it to you.
[97] _Memoirs_, ii. 212-14, with important additions from the original.
G.
[98] _i.e._ convinced by what Wordsworth had remarked to me, that those
portions of Collins's 'Ode on the Superstitions of the Highlanders,'
which first appeared in Bell's edition of that Ode, were forgeries.
_A.D._
Dyer is another of our minor poets--minor as to quantity--of whom one
would wish to know more. Particulars about him might still be collected,
I should think, in South Wales, his native country, and where in early
life he practised as a painter. I have often heard Sir George Beaumont
express a curiosity about his pictures, and a wish to see any specimen
of his pencil that might survive. If you are a rambler, perhaps you may,
at some time or other, be led into Carmarthenshire, and might bear in
mind what I have just said of this excellent author.
I had once a hope to have learned some unknown particulars of Thomson,
about Jedburgh, but I was disappointed. Had I succeeded, I meant to
publish a short life of him, prefixed to a volume containing 'The
Seasons,' 'The Castle of Indolence,' his minor pieces in rhyme, and a
few extracts from his plays, and his 'Liberty;' and I feel still
inclined to do something of the kind. These three writers, Thomson,
Collins, and Dyer, had more poetic imagination than any of their
contemporaries, unless we reckon Chatterton as of that age. I do not
name Pope, for he stands alone, as a man most highly gifted; but
unluckily he took the plain when the heights were within his reach.
Excuse this long letter, and believe me,
Sincerely yours,
WM. WORDSWORTH.[99]
[99] _Memoirs_, ii. 214-16.
62. _Verses and Counsels_.
LETTER TO PROFESSOR HAMILTON, OBSERVATORY, DUBLIN.
Rydal Mount, July 24. 1820.
MY DEAR SIR,
I have been very long in your debt. An inflammation in my eyes cut me
off from writing and reading, so that I deem it still prudent to employ
an Amanuensis; but I had a more decisive reason for putting off payment,
nothing less than the hope that I might discharge my debt in person: it
seems better, however, to consult you beforehand. I wish to make a Tour
in Ireland, and _perhaps_ along with my daughter, but I am ignorant of
so many points, as where to begin, whether it be safe at this _rioting_
period, what is best worth seeing, what mode of travelling will furnish
the greatest advantages at the least expense. Dublin of course--the
Wicklow mountains--Killarney Lakes--and I think the ruins not far from
Limerick would be among my objects, and return by the North; but I can
form no conjecture as to the time requisite for this, and whether it
would be best to take the steamboat from Liverpool to Cork, beginning
there, or to go from Whitehaven to Dublin. To start from Whitehaven by
steam to Dublin would suit me as being nearer this place and a shorter
voyage; besides my son is settled near Whitehaven, and I could
conveniently embark from his abode.
I have read with great pleasure the 'Sketches in Ireland' which Mr.
Otway was kind enough to present to me; but many interesting things he
speaks of in the West will be quite out of my reach. In short I am as
unprepared with Tourists' information as any man can be, and sensible as
I am of the very great value of your time, I cannot refrain from begging
you to take pity upon my ignorance and to give me some information,
keeping in mind the possibility of my having a female companion.
It is time to thank you for the verses you so obligingly sent me.
Your sister's have abundance of spirit and feeling; all that they want
is what appears in itself of little moment, and yet is of incalculably
great,--that is, workmanship,--the art by which the thoughts are made to
melt into each other, and to fall into light and shadow, regulated by
distinct preconception of the best general effect they are capable of
producing. This may seem very vague to you, but by conversation I think
I could make it appear otherwise. It is enough for the present to say
that I was much gratified, and beg you would thank your sister for
favouring me with the sight of compositions so distinctly marked with
that quality which is the subject of them ['Genius']. Your own verses
are to me very interesting, and affect me much as evidences of high and
pure-mindedness, from which humble-mindedness is inseparable. I like to
see and think of you among the stars, and between death and immortality,
where three of these poems place you. The 'Dream of Chivalry' is also
interesting in another way; but it would be insincere not to say that
something of a style more terse, and a harmony more accurately balanced,
must be acquired before the bodily form of your verses will be quite
worthy of their living soul. You are probably aware of this, tho'
perhaps not in an equal degree with myself; nor is it desirable you
should, for it might tempt you to labour, which would divert you from
subjects of infinitely greater importance.
Many thanks for your interesting account of Mr. Edgeworth. I heartily
concur with you in the wish that neither Plato nor any other profane
author may lead him from the truths of the Gospel, without which our
existence is an insupportable mystery to the thinking mind.
Looking for a reply at your early convenience,
I remain, my dear Sir, faithfully, your obliged
WM. WORDSWORTH.[100]
[100] _Memoirs_, ii. 216-17.
63. _'Annuals' and publishing Roguery_.
LETTER TO C. HUNTLY GORDON, ESQ. Rydal Mount, July 29. 1829.
MY DEAR SIR,
I hope you have enjoyed yourself in the country, as we have been doing
among our shady woods, and green hills, and invigorated streams. The
summer is passing on, and I have not left home, and perhaps shall not;
for it is far more from duty than inclination that I quit my dear and
beautiful home; and duty pulls two ways. On the one side my mind stands
in need of being fed by new objects for meditation and reflection, the
more so because diseased eyes have cut me off so much from reading; and,
on the other hand, I am obliged to look at the expense of distant
travelling, as I am not able to take so much out of my body by walking
as heretofore.
I have not got my MS. back from the ----,[101] whose managers have,
between them, used me shamefully; but my complaint is principally of the
editor, for with the proprietor I have had little direct connection. If
you think it worth while, you shall, at some future day, see such parts
of the correspondence as I have preserved. Mr. Southey is pretty much in
the same predicament with them, though he has kept silence for the
present.... I am properly served for having had any connection with such
things. My only excuse is, that they offered me a very liberal sum, and
that I have laboured hard through a long life, without more pecuniary
emolument than a lawyer gets for two special retainers, or a public
performer sometimes for two or three songs. Farewell; pray let me hear
from 3-011 at your early convenience,
And believe me faithfully your
Much obliged
WM. WORDSWORTH.[102]
[101] An Annual, to which Wordsworth had been induced to become a
contributor.
[102] _Memoirs_, ii. 217-18.
64. _Works of George Peele_.
LETTER TO REV. ALEXANDER DYCE.
Rydal Mount, Kendal, Oct. 16. 1829.
MY DEAR SIR,
On my return from Ireland, where I have been travelling a few weeks, I
found your present of George Peele's works, and the obliging letter
accompanying it; for both of which I offer my cordial thanks.
English literature is greatly indebted to your labours; and I have much
pleasure in this occasion of testifying my respect for the sound
judgment and conscientious diligence with which you discharge your duty
as an editor. Peele's works were well deserving of the care you have
bestowed upon them; and, as I did not previously possess a copy of any
part of them, the beautiful book which you have sent me was very
acceptable.
By accident, I learned lately that you had made a Book of Extracts,
which I had long wished for opportunity and industry to execute myself.
I am happy it has fallen into so much better hands. I allude to your
_Selections from the Poetry of English Ladies_. I had only a glance at
your work; but I will take this opportunity of saying, that should a
second edition be called for, I should be pleased with the honour of
being consulted by you about it. There is one poetess to whose writings
I am especially partial, the Countess of Winchelsea. I have perused her
poems frequently, and should be happy to name such passages as I think
most characteristic of her genius, and most fit to be selected.
I know not what to say about my intended edition of a portion of
Thomson. There appears to be some indelicacy in one poet treating
another in that way. The example is not good, though I think there are
few to whom the process might be more advantageously applied than to
Thomson. Yet, so sensible am I of the objection, that I should not have
entertained the thought, but for the expectation held out to me by an
acquaintance, that valuable materials for a new Life of Thomson might be
procured. In this I was disappointed.
With much respect, I remain, dear Sir,
Sincerely yours,
WM. WORDSWORTH.[103]
[103] _Memoirs_, ii. 219-220.
65. _Of Lady Winchelsea, Tickell, &c.: Sonnets, &c._
LETTER TO REV. ALEXANDER DYCE.
Rydal Mount, Kendal, May 10. 1830.
MY DEAR SIR,
My last was, for want of room, concluded so abruptly, that I avail
myself of an opportunity of sending you a few additional words free of
postage, upon the same subject.
I observed that Lady Winchelsea was unfortunate in her
models--_Pindarics_ and _Fables_; nor does it appear from her
_Aristomenes_ that she would have been more successful than her
contemporaries, if she had cultivated tragedy. She had sensibility
sufficient for the tender parts of dramatic writing, but in the stormy
and tumultuous she would probably have failed altogether. She seems to
have made it a moral and religious duty to control her feelings lest
they should mislead her. Of love, as a passion, she is afraid, no doubt
from a conscious inability to soften it down into friendship. I have
often applied two lines of her drama (p. 318) to her affections:
'Love's soft bands,
His gentle cords of hyacinths and roses,
Wove in the dewy Spring when storms are silent.'
By the by, in the next page are two impassioned lines spoken to a person
fainting:
'Then let me hug and press thee into life,
And lend thee motion from my beating heart.'
From the style and versification of this, so much her longest work, I
conjecture that Lady Winchelsea had but a slender acquaintance with the
drama of the earlier part of the preceding century. Yet her style in
rhyme is often admirable, chaste, tender, and vigorous, and entirely
free from sparkle, antithesis, and that overculture, which reminds one,
by its broad glare, its stiffness, and heaviness, of the double daisies
of the garden, compared with their modest and sensitive kindred of the
fields. Perhaps I am mistaken, but I think there is a good deal of
resemblance in her style and versification to that of Tickell, to whom
Dr. Johnson justly assigns a high place among the minor poets, and of
whom Goldsmith rightly observes, that there is a strain of
ballad-thinking through all his poetry, and it is very attractive. Pope,
in that production of his boyhood, the 'Ode to Solitude,' and in his
'Essay on Criticism,' has furnished proofs that at one period of his
life he felt the charm of a sober and subdued style, which he afterwards
abandoned for one that is, to my taste at least, too pointed and
ambitious, and for a versification too timidly balanced.
If a second edition of your 'Specimens' should be called for, you might
add from Helen Maria Williams the 'Sonnet to the Moon,' and that to
'Twilight;' and a few more from Charlotte Smith, particularly,
'I love thee, mournful, sober-suited Night.'
At the close of a sonnet of Miss Seward are two fine verses:
'Come, that I may not hear the winds of night.
Nor count the heavy eave-drops as they fall.'
You have well characterised the poetic powers of this lady; but, after
all, her verses please me, with all their faults, better than those of
Mrs. Barbauld, who, with much higher powers of mind, was spoiled as a
poetess by being a dissenter, and concerned with a dissenting academy.
One of the most pleasing passages in her poetry is the close of the
lines upon 'Life,' written, I believe, when she was not less than eighty
years of age:
'Life, we have been long together,' &c.[104]
You have given a specimen of that ever-to-be-pitied victim of Swift,
'Vanessa.' I have somewhere a short piece of hers upon her passion for
Swift, which well deserves to be added. But I am becoming tedious, which
you will ascribe to a well-meant endeavour to make you some return for
your obliging attentions.
I remain, dear Sir, faithfully yours,
WM. WORDSWORTH.[105]
[104] It was on hearing these lines repeated by his friend, Mr. H.C.
Robinson, that Wordsworth exclaimed, 'Well! I am not given to envy other
people their good things; but I _do_ wish I had written _that_.' He much
admired Mrs. Barbauld's Essays, and sent a copy of them, with a
laudatory letter upon them, to the Archbishop of Canterbury.
[105] _Memoirs_, ii. 220-22.
66. _Hamilton's 'Spirit of Beauty:' Verbal Criticism: Female Authorship:
Words_.
Where there is so much sincerity of feeling in a matter so dignified as
the renunciation of poetry for science, one feels that an apology is
necessary for verbal criticism. I will therefore content myself with
observing that 'joying' for joy or joyance is not to my taste. Indeed I
object to such liberties upon principle. We should soon have no language
at all if the unscrupulous coinage of the present day were allowed to
pass, and become a precedent for the future. One of the first duties of
a Writer is to ask himself whether his thought, feeling, or image cannot
be expressed by existing words or phrases, before he goes about creating
new terms, even when they are justified by the analogies of the
language. 'The cataract's steep flow' is both harsh and inaccurate:
'thou hast seen me bend over the cataract' would express one idea in
simplicity and all that was required. Had it been necessary to be more
particular, 'steep flow' are not the words that ought to have been used.
I remember Campbell says in a composition that is overrun with faulty
language, 'And dark as winter was the _flow_ of Iser rolling rapidly;'
that is, 'flowing rapidly.' The expression ought to have been 'stream'
or 'current...' These may appear to you frigid criticisms, but depend
upon it no writings will live in which these rules are disregarded....
Female authorship is to be shunned as bringing in its train more and
heavier evils than have presented themselves to your sister's ingenuous
mind. No true friend I am sure will endeavour to shake her resolution to
remain in her own quiet and healthful obscurity. This is not said with a
view to discourage her from writing, nor have the remarks made above any
aim of the kind; they are rather intended to assist her in writing with
more permanent satisfaction to herself. She will probably write less in
proportion as she subjects her feelings to logical forms, but the range
of her sensibilities so far from being narrowed will extend as she
improves in the habit of looking at things thro' a steady light of
words; and, to speak a little metaphysically, words are not a mere
vehicle, but they are powers either to kill or animate.[106]
[106] Extract of letter to Professor Hamilton, Dublin, Dec. 23d, 1829.
67. _His 'Play:' Hone: Eyesight failing, &c._
TO CHARLES LAMB, ESQ.
Jan. 10. 1830.
MY DEAR LAMB,
A whole twelvemonth have I been a letter in your debt, for which fault I
have been sufficiently punished by self-reproach.
I liked your Play marvellously, having no objection to it but one, which
strikes me as applicable to a large majority of plays, those of
Shakspeare himself not entirely excepted--I mean a little degradation of
character for a more dramatic turn of plot. Your present of Hone's book
was very acceptable; and so much so, that your part of the book is the
cause why I did not write long ago. I wished to enter a little minutely
into notice of the dramatic extracts, and, on account of the smallness
of the print, deferred doing so till longer days would allow me to read
without candle-light, which I have long since given up. But, alas! when
the days lengthened, my eyesight departed, and for many months I could
not read three minutes at a time. You will be sorry to hear that this
infirmity still hangs about me, and almost cuts me off from reading
altogether. But how are you, and how is your dear sister? I long much,
as we all do, to know.
For ourselves, this last year, owing to my sister's dangerous illness,
the effects of which are not yet got over, has been an anxious one and
melancholy. But no more of this. My sister has probably told everything
about the family; so that I may conclude with less scruple, by assuring
you of my sincere and faithful affection for you and your dear sister.
WM. WORDSWORTH.[107]
68. _Summer: Mr. Quillinan: Draining, &c._
LETTER TO G. HUNTLY GORDON, ESQ.
Rydal Mount, April 6. 1830.
MY DEAR MR. GORDON,
You are kind in noticing with thanks my rambling notes.[108]
We have had here a few days of delicious summer weather.
[107] _Memoirs_, ii. 223.
[108] On a proposed tour.
It appeared with the suddenness of a pantomimic trick, stayed longer
than we had a right to expect, and was as rapidly succeeded by high
wind, bitter cold, and winter snow, over hill and dale.
I am not surprised that you are so well pleased with Mr. Quillinan. The
more you see of him the better you will like him. You ask what are my
employments. According to Dr. Johnson they are such as entitle me to
high commendation, for I am not only making two blades of grass grow
where only one grew before, but a dozen. In plain language, I am
draining a bit of spungy ground.[109] In the field where this goes on I
am making a green terrace that commands a beautiful view of our two
lakes, Rydal and Windermere, and more than two miles of intervening vale
with the stream visible by glimpses flowing through it. I shall have
great pleasure in showing you this among the other returns which I hope
one day to make for your kindness.
Adieu, yours,
W.W.[110]
69. _Works of Webster, &c.: Elder Poets: Dr. Darwin: 'Excursion:'
Collins, &c._
LETTER TO REV. ALEXANDER DYCE.
[No date, but Postmark, 1830.]
I am truly obliged, my dear Sir, by your valuable present of Webster's
Dramatic Works and the 'Specimens.'[111] Your publisher was right in
insisting upon the whole of Webster, otherwise the book might have been
superseded, either by an entire edition separately given to the world,
or in some _corpus_ of the dramatic writers. The poetic genius of
England, with the exception of Chaucer, Spenser, Milton, Dryden, Pope,
and a very few more, is to be sought in her drama. How it grieves one
that there is so little probability of those valuable authors being read
except by the curious! I questioned my friend Charles Lamb whether it
would answer for some person of real taste to undertake abridging the
plays that are not likely to be read as wholes, and telling such parts
of the story in brief abstract as were ill managed in the drama. He
thought it would not. I, however, am inclined to think it would.
[109] In the field to the S.W. below the garden at Rydal.
[110] _Memoirs_, ii. 224.
[111] _Specimens of British Poetesses. A.D._
The account of your indisposition gives me much concern. It pleases me,
however, to see that, though you may suffer, your industry does not
relax; and I hope that your pursuits are rather friendly than injurious
to your health.
You are quite correct in your notice of my obligation to Dr.
Darwin.[112] In the first edition of the poem it was acknowledged in a
note, which slipped out of its place in the last, along with some
others. In putting together that edition, I was obliged to cut up
several copies; and, as several of the poems also changed their places,
some confusion and omission, and, in one instance, a repetition, was the
consequence. Nothing, however, so bad as in the edition of 1820, where a
long poem, 'The Lament of Mary Queen of Scots,' was by mistake
altogether omitted. Another unpleasantness arose from the same cause;
for, in some instances, notwithstanding repeated charges to the printer,
you have only two Spenserian stanzas in a page (I speak now of the last
edition) instead of three; and there is the same irregularity in
printing other forms of stanza.
You must indeed have been fond of that ponderous quarto, 'The
Excursion,' to lug it about as you did.[113] In the edition of 1827 it
was diligently revised, and the sense in several instances got into less
room; yet still it is a long poem for these feeble and fastidious times.
You would honour me much by accepting a copy of my poetical works; but I
think it better to defer offering it to you till a new edition is called
for, which will be ere long, as I understand the present is getting low.
[112] In Mr. W.'s lines 'To Enterprise.' _A.D._
[113] I had mentioned to Mr. W. that, when I had a curacy in Cornwall, I
used frequently to carry 'The Excursion' down to the sea-shore, and read
it there. _A.D._
A word or two about Collins. You know what importance I attach to
following strictly the last copy of the text of an author; and I do not
blame you for printing in the 'Ode to Evening' 'brawling' spring; but
surely the epithet is most unsuitable to the time, the very worst, I
think, that could have been chosen.
I now come to Lady Winchelsea. First, however, let me say a few words
upon one or two other authoresses of your 'Specimens.' British poetesses
make but a poor figure in the 'Poems by Eminent Ladies.'[114]
[114] Two volumes, 1755. _A.D._
But observing how injudicious that selection is in the case of Lady
Winchelsea, and of Mrs. Aphra Behn (from whose attempts they are
miserably copious), I have thought something better might have been
chosen by more competent persons who had access to the volumes of the
several writers. In selecting from Mrs. Pilkington, I regret that you
omitted (look at p. 255) 'Sorrow,' or at least that you did not abridge
it. The first and third paragraph are very affecting. See also
'Expostulation,' p. 258: it reminds me strongly of one of the
Penitential Hymns of Burns. The few lines upon St. John the Baptist, by
Mrs. Killigrew (vol. ii. p. 6), are pleasing. A beautiful Elegy of Miss
Warton (sister to the poets of that name) upon the death of her father,
has escaped your notice; nor can I refer you to it. Has the Duchess of
Newcastle written much verse? her Life of her Lord, and the extracts in
your book, and in the 'Eminent Ladies,' are all that I have seen of
hers. The 'Mirth and Melancholy' has so many fine strokes of
imagination, that I cannot but think there must be merit in many parts
of her writings. How beautiful those lines, from 'I dwell in groves,' to
the conclusion, 'Yet better loved, the more that I am known,' excepting
the four verses after 'Walk up the hills.' And surely the latter verse
of the couplet,
'The tolling bell which for the dead rings out;
A mill where rushing waters run about;'
is very noticeable: no person could have hit upon that union of images
without being possessed of true poetic feeling. Could you tell me
anything of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu more than is to be learned from
Pope's letters and her own? She seems to have been destined for
something much higher and better than she became. A parallel between her
genius and character and that of Lady Winchelsea her contemporary
(though somewhat prior to her) would be well worth drawing.
And now at last for the poems of Lady Winchelsea. I will transcribe a
note from a blank leaf of my own edition, written by me before I saw the
scanty notice of her in Walpole. (By the by, that book has always
disappointed me when I have consulted it upon any particular occasion.)
The note runs thus: 'The "Fragment," p. 280, seems to prove that she was
attached to James II., as does p. 42, and that she suffered by the
Revolution. The most celebrated of these poems, but far from the best,
is "The Spleen." "The Petition for an absolute Retreat," and the
"Nocturnal Reverie," are of much superior merit. See also for favourable
specimens, p. 156; "On the Death of Mr. Thynne," p. 263; and p. 280,
"Fragment." The Fable of "Love, Death, and Reputation," p. 29, is
ingeniously told.' Thus far my own note. I will now be more particular.
P. 3, 'Our Vanity,' &c., and p. 163 are noticeable as giving some
account from herself of her authorship. See also p. 148, where she
alludes to 'The Spleen.' She was unlucky in her models, Pindaric Odes
and French Fables. But see p. 70, 'The Blindness of Elymas,' for proof
that she could write with powers of a high order when her own individual
character and personal feelings were not concerned. For less striking
proofs of this power, see p. 4, 'All is Vanity,' omitting verses 5 and
6, and reading 'clouds that are lost and gone,' &c. There is merit in
the two next stanzas; and the last stanza towards the close contains a
fine reproof for the ostentation of Louis XIV., and one magnificent
verse,
'Spent the astonished hours, forgetful to adore.'
But my paper is nearly out. As far as 'For my garments,' p. 36, the poem
is charming; it then falls off; revives at p. 39, 'Give me there;' p.
41, &c., reminds me of Dyer's 'Grongar Hill;' it revives p. 47, towards
the bottom, and concludes with sentiments worthy of the writer, though
not quite so happily expressed as other parts of the poem. See pages 82,
92, 'Whilst in the Muses' paths I stray;' p. 113. 'The Cautious Lovers,'
p. 118, has little poetic merit, but is worth reading as characteristic
of the author. P. 143, 'Deep lines of honour,' &c., to 'maturer age.' P.
151, if shortened, would be striking; p. 154, characteristic; p. 159,
from 'Meanwhile, ye living parents,' to the close, omitting 'Nor could
we hope,' and the five following verses; p. 217, last paragraph; p. 259,
_that_ you have;[115] pp. 262, 263; p. 280, Was Lady W. a R. Catholic?
p. 290, 'And to the clouds proclaim thy fall;' p. 291, omit 'When
scatter'd glow-worms,' and the next couplet. I have no more room. Pray,
excuse this vile scrawl.
Ever faithfully yours, W.W.
P.S. I have inconsiderately sent your letter to my daughter (now
absent), without copying the address. I knew the letter would interest
her. I shall direct to your publisher.[116]
Rydal Mount.
[115] Mr. W. means, that I _have_ inserted that poem in my 'Specimens.'
_A.D._
[116] _Memoirs_, ii. 225-30.
70. _French Revolution_, 1830.
LETTERS TO G. HUNTLY GORDON, ESQ.
MY DEAR MR. GORDON,
* * * * *
I cannot but deeply regret that the late King of France and his
ministers should have been so infatuated. Their stupidity, not to say
their crimes, has given an impulse to the revolutionary and democratic
spirit throughout Europe which is premature, and from which much
immediate evil may be apprehended, whatever things may settle into at
last. Whereas had the Government conformed to the increasing knowledge
of the people, and not surrendered itself to the counsels of the priests
and the bigoted Royalists, things might have been kept in an even
course, to the mutual improvement and benefit of both governed and
governors.
In France incompatible things are aimed at--a monarchy and democracy to
be united without an intervening aristocracy to constitute a graduated
scale of power and influence. I cannot conceive how an hereditary
monarchy can exist without an hereditary peerage in a country so large
as France, nor how either can maintain their ground if the law of the
Napoleon Code, compelling equal division of property by will, be not
repealed. And I understand that a vast majority of the French are
decidedly adverse to the repeal of that law, which, I cannot but think,
will ere long be found injurious both to France and, in its collateral
effects, to the rest of Europe.
Ever, dear Mr. Gordon,
Cordially and faithfully yours,
WM. WORDSWORTH.
MY DEAR MR. GORDON,
Thanks for your hint about Rhenish: strength from wine is good, from
water still better.
* * * * *
One is glad to see tyranny baffled and foolishness put to shame; but the
French King and his ministers will be unfairly judged by all those who
take not into consideration the difficulties of their position. It is
not to be doubted that there has long existed a determination, and that
plans have been laid, to destroy the Government which the French
received, as they felt, at the hands of the Allies, and their pride
could not bear. Moreover, the Constitution, had it been their own
choice, would by this time have lost favour in the eyes of the French,
as not sufficiently democratic for the high notion _that_ people
entertain of their fitness to govern themselves; but, for my own part,
I'd rather fill the office of a parish beadle than sit on the throne
where the Duke of Orleans has suffered himself to be placed.
The heat is gone, and but that we have too much rain again the country
would be enchanting.
With a thousand thanks,
I remain ever yours,
WM. WORDSWORTH.[117]
71. _Nonsense: Rotten Boroughs: Sonnets: Pegasus: Kenelm Digby:
Tennysons_.
LETTERS TO PROFESSOR HAMILTON.
Trinity Lodge, Cambridge, November 26. 1830.
MY DEAR MR. HAMILTON,
I reached this place nine days ago, where I should have found your
letter of the 23d ult., but that it had been forwarded to Coleorton
Hall, Leicestershire, where we stopped a week on our road. I am truly
glad to find that your good spirits put you upon writing what you call
nonsense, and so much of it; but I assure you it all passed with me for
very agreeable sense, or something better, and continues to do so even
in this learned spot; which you will not be surprised to hear, when I
tell you that at a dinner-party the other day, I heard a Head of a
House, a clergyman also, gravely declare, that the rotten boroughs, as
they are called, should instantly be abolished without compensation to
their owners; that slavery should be destroyed with like disregard of
the _claims_ (for rights he would allow none) of the proprietors, and a
multitude of extravagances of the same sort. Therefore say I, Vive la
Bagatelle; motley is your only wear.
[117] _Memoirs_, ii. 230-1.
You tell me kindly that you have often asked yourself where is Mr.
Wordsworth, and the question has readily been solved for you. He is at
Cambridge: a great mistake! So late as the 5th of November, I will tell
you where I was, a solitary equestrian entering the romantic little town
of Ashford in the Waters, on the edge of Wilds of Derbyshire, at the
close of day, when guns were beginning to be left [let?] off and squibs
to be fired on every side. So that I thought it prudent to dismount and
lead my horse through the place, and so on to Bakewell, two miles
farther. You must know how I happened to be riding through these wild
regions. It was my wish that Dora should have the benefit of her pony
while at Cambridge, and very valiantly and economically I determined,
unused as I am to horsemanship, to ride the creature myself. I sent
James with it to Lancaster; there mounted; stopped a day at Manchester,
a week at Coleorton, and so reached the end of my journey safe and
sound, not, however, without encountering two days of tempestuous rain.
Thirty-seven miles did I ride in one day through the worse of these
storms. And what was my resource? guess again: writing verses to the
memory of my departed friend Sir George Beaumont, whose house I had left
the day before. While buffetting the other storm I composed a Sonnet
upon the splendid domain at Chatsworth, which I had seen in the morning,
as contrasted with the secluded habitations of the narrow dells in the
Park; and as I passed through the tame and manufacture-disfigured
country of Lancashire I was reminded by the faded leaves, of Spring, and
threw off a few stanzas of an ode to May.
But too much of self and my own performances upon my steed--a descendant
no doubt of Pegasus, though his owner and present rider knew nothing of
it. Now for a word about Professor Airey. I have seen him twice; but I
did not communicate your message. It was at dinner and at an evening
party, and I thought it best not to speak of it till I saw him, which I
mean to do, upon a morning call.
There is a great deal of intellectual activity within the walls of this
College, and in the University at large; but conversation turns mainly
upon the state of the country and the late change in the administration.
The fires have extended to within 8 miles of this place; from which I
saw one of the worst, if not absolutely the worst, indicated by a
redness in the sky--a few nights ago.
I am glad when I fall in with a member of Parliament, as it puts me upon
writing to my friends, which I am always disposed to defer, without such
a determining advantage. At present we have two members, Mr. Cavendish,
one of the representatives of the University, and Lord Morpeth, under
the Master's roof. We have also here Lady Blanche, wife of Mr.
Cavendish, and sister of Lord Morpeth. She is a great admirer of Mrs.
Hemans' poetry. There is an interesting person in this University for a
day or two, whom I have not yet seen--Kenelm Digby, author of the
'Broadstone of Honor,' a book of chivalry, which I think was put into
your hands at Rydal Mount. We have also a respectable show of blossom in
poetry. Two brothers of the name of Tennison, in particular, are not a
little promising. Of science I can give you no account; though perhaps I
may pick up something for a future letter, which may be long in coming
for reasons before mentioned. Mrs. W. and my daughter, of whom you
inquire, are both well; the latter rides as often as weather and regard
for the age of her pony will allow. She has resumed her German labours,
and is not easily drawn from what she takes to. Therefore I hope Miss
Hamilton will not find fault if she does not write for some time, as she
will readily conceive that with this passion upon her, and many
engagements, she will be rather averse to writing. In fact she owes a
long letter to her brother in Germany, who, by the bye, tells us that he
will not cease to look out for the Book of Kant you wished for.
Farewell, with a thousand kind remembrances to yourself and sister, and
the rest of your amiable family, in which Mrs. W. and Dora join.
Believe me most faithfully yours,
WM. WORDSWORTH.[118]
[118] Here first printed. G.
72. _Verses: 'Reform Bill:' Francis Edgeworth: Eagles: 'Yarrow
Revisited.'_
Rydal Mount, Oct. 27 [1831].
MY DEAR MR. HAMILTON,
A day or two before my return from Scotland arrived your letter and
verses; for both of which I thank you, as they exhibit your mind under
those varied phases which I have great pleasure in contemplating. My
reply is earlier than it would have been, but for the opportunity of a
frank from one of the Members for the University of Oxford--a friend of
Mr. Southey's and mine, who by way of recreating himself after the
fatigues of the last Session, had taken a trip to see the Manchester
railway, and kindly and most unexpectedly came on to give a day apiece
to Southey and me. He is, like myself, in poor heart at the aspect of
public affairs. In his opinion the Ministers when they brought in the
Bill neither expected nor wished it to be carried. All they wanted was
an opportunity of saying to the people, 'Behold what great things we
would have done for you had it been in our power: we must now content
ourselves with the best we can get.' But, to return to your letter. To
speak frankly, you appear to be at least three-fourths gone in love;
therefore, think about the last quarter in the journey. The picture you
give of the lady makes one wish to see her more familiarly than I had an
opportunity of doing, were it only to ascertain whether, as you
astronomers have in your observatories magnifying glasses for the stars,
you do not carry about with you also, when you descend to common life,
coloured glasses and Claude Loraine mirrors for throwing upon objects
that interest you enough for the purpose, such lights and hues as may be
most to the taste of the intellectual vision. In a former letter you
mention Francis Edgeworth. He is a person not to be forgotten. If you be
in communication with him pray present him my very kind respects, and
say that he was not unfrequently in my thoughts during my late poetic
rambles; and particularly when I saw the objects which called forth a
Sonnet that I shall send you. He was struck with my mention of a sound
in the eagle's notes, much and frequently resembling the yelping and
barking of a dog, and quoted a passage in Eschylus where the eagle is
called the flying hound of the air, and he suggested that Eschylus might
not only allude by that term to his being a bird of chase or prey, but
also to this barking voice, which I do not recollect ever hearing
noticed. The other day I was forcibly reminded of the circumstances
under which the pair of eagles were seen that I described in the letter
to Mr. Edgeworth, his brother. It was the promontory of Fairhead, on the
coast of Antrim, and no spectacle could be grander. At Dunally Castle, a
ruin seated at the tip of one of the horns of the bay of Oban, I saw
the other day one of these noble creatures cooped up among the ruins,
and was incited to give vent to my feelings as you shall now see:
'Dishonoured Rock and Ruin! that by law
Tyrannic, keep the Bird of Jove imbarred,
Like a lone criminal whose life is spared.
Vexed is he and screams loud:--The last I saw
Was on the wing, and struck my soul with awe,
Now wheeling low, then with a consort paired,
From a bold headland their loved aery's guard,
Flying, above Atlantic waves,--to draw
Light from the fountain of the setting sun.
Such was this prisoner once; and, when his plumes
The sea-blast ruffles as the storm comes on,
In spirit, for a moment he resumes
His rank 'mong free-born creatures that live free;
His power, his beauty, and his majesty.'
You will naturally wish to hear something of Sir Walter Scott, and
particularly of his health. I found him a good deal changed within the
last three or four years, in consequence of some shocks of the
apoplectic kind; but his friends say that he is very much better, and
the last accounts, up to the time of his going on board, were still more
favourable. He himself thinks his age much against him, but he has only
completed his 60th year. But a friend of mine was here the other day,
who has rallied, and is himself again, after a much severer shock, and
at an age several years more advanced. So that I trust the world and his
friends may be hopeful, with good reason, that the life and faculties of
this man, who has during the last six and twenty years diffused more
innocent pleasure than ever fell to the lot of any human being to do in
his own life-time, may be spared. Voltaire, no doubt, was full as
extensively known, and filled a larger space probably in the eye of
Europe; for he was a great theatrical writer, which Scott has not proved
himself to be, and miscellaneous to that degree, that there was
something for all classes of readers: but the pleasure afforded by his
writings, with the exception of some of his Tragedies and minor Poems,
was not pure, and in this Scott is greatly his superior.
As Dora has told your sister, Sir W. was our guide to Yarrow. The
pleasure of that day induced me to add a third to the two poems upon
Yarrow, 'Yarrow Revisited.' It is in the same measure, and as much in
the same spirit as matter of fact would allow. You are artist enough to
know that it is next to impossible entirely to harmonise things that
rest upon their poetic credibility, and are idealised by distance of
time and space, with those that rest upon the evidence of the hour, and
have about them the thorny points of actual life. I am interrupted by a
stranger, and a gleam of fine weather reminds me also of taking
advantage of it the moment I am at liberty, for we have had a week of
incessant rain.
[Ever faithfully yours,
WM. WORDSWORTH.][119]
[119] _Memoirs_, ii. 241-2. Given completely (instead of the brief
extract) from the original. The autograph, &c. cut away. G.
73. _Tour in Scotland_.
LETTER TO LADY FREDERICK BENTINCK.
Rydal Mount, Nov. 9.
MY DEAR LADY FREDERICK,
* * * * *
You are quite right, dear Lady F., in congratulating me on my late
ramble in Scotland. I set off with a severe inflammation in one of my
eyes, which was removed by being so much in the open air; and for more
than a month I scarcely saw a newspaper, or heard of their contents.
During this time we almost forgot, my daughter and I, the deplorable
state of the country. My spirits rallied, and, with exercise--for I
often walked scarcely less than twenty miles a day--and the employment
of composing verses, amid scenery the most beautiful, and at a season
when the foliage was most rich and varied, the time flew away
delightfully; and when we came back into the world again, it seemed as
if I had waked from a dream, that never was to return. We travelled in
an open carriage with one horse, driven by Dora; and while we were in
the Highlands I walked most of the way by the side of the carriage,
which left us leisure to observe the beautiful appearances. The rainbows
and coloured mists floating about the hills were more like enchantment
than anything I ever saw, even among the Alps. There was in particular,
the day we made the tour of Loch Lomond in the steamboat, a fragment of
a rainbow, so broad, so splendid, so glorious, with its reflection in
the calm water, it astonished every one on board, a party of foreigners
especially, who could not refrain from expressing their pleasure in a
more lively manner than we are accustomed to do. My object in going to
Scotland so late in the season was to see Sir Walter Scott before his
departure. We stayed with him three days, and he quitted Abbotsford the
day after we left it. His health has undoubtedly been much shattered, by
successive shocks of apoplexy, but his friends say he is so much
recovered, that they entertain good hopes of his life and faculties
being spared. Mr. Lockhart tells me that he derived benefit by a change
of his treatment made by his London physicians, and that he embarked in
good spirits.
As to public affairs, I have no hope but in the goodness of Almighty
God. The Lords have recovered much of the credit they had lost by their
conduct in the Roman Catholic question. As an Englishman I am deeply
grateful for the stand which they have made, but I cannot help fearing
that they may be seduced or intimidated. Our misfortune is, that the
disapprovers of this monstrous bill give way to a belief that nothing
can prevent its being passed; and therefore they submit.
As to the cholera, I cannot say it appals me much; it may be in the
order of Providence to employ this scourge for bringing the nation to
its senses; though history tells us in the case of the plague at Athens,
and other like visitations, that men are never so wicked and depraved as
when afflictions of that kind are upon them. So that, after all, one
must come round to our only support, submission to the will of God, and
faith in the ultimate goodness of His dispensations.
I am sorry you did not mention your son, in whose health and welfare,
and progress in his studies, I am always much interested. Pray remember
me kindly to Lady Caroline. All here join with me in presenting their
kindest remembrances to yourself; and believe me, dear Lady Frederick,
Faithfully and affectionately yours,
WM. WORDSWORTH.[120]
[120] _Memoirs_, ii. 242-4.
74. _Sir Walter Scott_.
EXTRACT OF LETTER TO MRS. HEMANS.
Rydal Mount, Aug. 20. 1833.
The visit which occasioned the poem ['Yarrow Revisited'] addressed to
Sir Walter Scott, that you mention in terms so flattering, was a very
melancholy one. My daughter was with me. We arrived at his house on
Monday noon, and left it at the same time on Thursday, the very day
before he quitted Abbotsford for London, on his way to Naples. On the
morning of our departure he composed a few lines for Dora's Album, and
wrote them in it. We prize this memorial very much, and the more so as
an affecting testimony of his regard at a time when, as the verses
prove, his health of body and powers of mind were much impaired and
shaken. You will recollect the little green book which you were kind
enough to write in on its first page.
Let me hope that your health will improve, so that you may be enabled to
proceed with the sacred poetry with which you are engaged. Be assured
that I shall duly appreciate the mark of honour you design for me in
connection with so interesting a work.[121]
[121] _Memoirs_, ii. 244.
75. _Of Advices that he would write more in Prose_.
LETTER TO REV. J.K. MILLER, VICAR OF WALKERINGHAM.
Rydal Mount, Kendal, Dec. 17. 1831.
MY DEAR SIR,
You have imputed my silence, I trust, to some cause neither disagreeable
to yourself nor unworthy of me. Your letter of the 26th of Nov. had been
misdirected to Penrith, where the postmaster detained it some time,
expecting probably that I should come to that place, which I have often
occasion to visit. When it reached me I was engaged in assisting my wife
to make out some of my mangled and almost illegible MSS., which
inevitably involved me in endeavours to correct and improve them. My
eyes are subject to frequent inflammations, of which I had an attack
(and am still suffering from it) while that was going on. You would
nevertheless have heard from me almost as soon as I received your
letter, could I have replied to it in terms in any degree accordant to
my wishes. Your exhortations troubled me in a way you cannot be in the
least aware of; for I have been repeatedly urged by some of my most
valued friends, and at times by my own conscience, to undertake the task
you have set before me. But I will deal frankly with you. A conviction
of my incompetence to do justice to the momentous subject has kept me,
and I fear will keep me, silent. My sixty-second year will soon be
completed, and though I have been favoured thus far in health and
strength beyond most men of my age, yet I feel its effects upon my
spirits; they sink under a pressure of apprehension to which, at an
earlier period of my life, they would probably have been superior. There
is yet another obstacle: I am no ready master of prose writing, having
been little practised in the art. This last consideration will not weigh
with you; nor would it have done with myself a few years ago; but the
bare mention of it will serve to show that years have deprived me of
_courage_, in the sense the word bears when applied by Chaucer to the
animation of birds in spring time.
What I have already said precludes the necessity of otherwise confirming
your assumption that I am opposed to the spirit you so justly
characterise.[122] To your opinions upon this subject, my judgment (if I
may borrow your own word) 'responds.' Providence is now trying this
empire through her political institutions. Sound minds find their
expediency in principles; unsound, their principles in expediency. On
the proportion of these minds to each other the issue depends. From
calculations of partial expediency in opposition to general principles,
whether those calculations be governed by fear or presumption, nothing
but mischief is to be looked for; but, in the present stage of our
affairs, the class that does the most harm consists _of
well-intentioned_ men, who, being ignorant of human nature, think that
they may help the thorough-paced reformers and revolutionists to a
_certain_ point, then stop, and that the machine will stop with them.
After all, the question is, fundamentally, one of piety and morals; of
piety, as disposing men who are anxious for social improvement to wait
patiently for God's good time; and of morals, as guarding them from
doing evil that good may come, or thinking that any ends _can_ be so
good as to justify wrong means for attaining them. In fact, means, in
the concerns of this life, are infinitely more important than ends,
which are to be valued mainly according to the qualities and virtues
requisite for their attainment; and the best test of an end being good
is the purity of the means, which, by the laws of God and our nature,
must be employed in order to secure it. Even the interests of eternity
become distorted the moment they are looked at through the medium of
impure means. Scarcely had I written this, when I was told by a person
in the Treasury, that it is intended to carry the Reform Bill by a new
creation of peers. If this be done, the constitution of England will be
destroyed, and the present Lord Chancellor, after having contributed to
murder it, may consistently enough pronounce, in his place, its _Èloge
funËbre_!
[122] As revolutionary.
I turn with pleasure to the sonnets you have addressed to me and if I
did not read them with unqualified satisfaction it was only from
consciousness that I was unworthy of the enconiums they bestowed upon
me.
Among the papers I have lately been arranging are passages that would
prove as forcibly as anything of mine that has been published, you were
not mistaken in your supposition that it is the habit of my mind
inseparably to connect loftiness of imagination with that humility of
mind which is best taught in Scripture.
Hoping that you will be indulgent to my silence, which has been, from
various causes, protracted contrary to my wish,
Believe me to be, dear Sir,
Very faithfully yours,
WM. WORDSWORTH.[123]
[123] _Memoirs_, ii. 252-4.
76. _Of Poetry and Prose: Milton and Shakspeare: Reform, &c._
LETTER TO PROFESSOR HAMILTON, DUBLIN.
Nov. 22. 1831.
MY DEAR MR. HAMILTON,
You send me showers of verses, which I receive with much pleasure, as do
we all; yet have we fears that this employment may seduce you from the
path of Science, which you seem destined to tread with so much honour to
yourself and profit to others. Again and again I must repeat, that the
composition of verse is infinitely more of an art than men are prepared
to believe; and absolute success in it depends upon innumerable
minutiae, which it grieves me you should stoop to acquire a knowledge
of. Milton talks of 'pouring easy his unpremeditated verse.' It would be
harsh, untrue, and odious, to say there is anything like cant in this;
but it is not true to the letter, and tends to mislead. I could point
out to you five hundred passages in Milton upon which labour has been
bestowed, and twice five hundred more to which additional labour would
have been serviceable. Not that I regret the absence of such labour,
because no poem contains more proofs of skill acquired by practice.
These observations are not called out by any defects or imperfections in
your last pieces especially: they are equal to the former ones in
effect, have many beauties, and are not inferior in execution; but again
I do venture to submit to your consideration, whether the poetical parts
of your nature would not find a field more favourable to their exercise
in the regions of prose: not because those regions are humbler, but
because they may be gracefully and profitably trod with footsteps less
careful and in measures less elaborate. And now I have done with the
subject, and have only to add, that when you write verses you would not
fail, from time to time, to let me have a sight of them; provided you
will allow me to defer criticism on your diction and versification till
we meet. My eyes are so often useless both for reading and writing, that
I cannot tax the eyes and pens of others with writing down observations
which to indifferent persons must be tedious.
Upon the whole, I am not sorry that your project of going to London at
present is dropped. It would have grieved me had you been unfurnished
with an introduction from me to Mr. Coleridge; yet I know not how I
could have given you one--he is often so very unwell. A few weeks ago he
had had two attacks of cholera, and appears to be so much broken down
that unless I were assured he was something in his better way I could
not disturb him by the introduction of any one. His most intimate friend
is Mr. Green, a man of science and a distinguished surgeon. If to him
you could procure an introduction he would let you know the state of
Coleridge's health; and to Mr. Green, whom I once saw, you might use my
name with a view to further your wish, if it were at all needful.
Shakspeare's sonnets (excuse this leap) are not upon the Italian model,
which Milton's are; they are merely quatrains with a couplet tacked to
the end; and if they depended much upon the versification they would
unavoidably be heavy.
One word upon Reform in Parliament, a subject to which, somewhat
reluctantly, you allude. You are a Reformer! Are you an approver of the
Bill as rejected by the Lords? or, to use Lord Grey's words, anything
'as efficient?'--he means, if he means anything, for producing change.
Then I earnestly entreat you to devote hours and hours to the study of
human nature, in books, in life, and in your own mind; and beg and pray
that you would mix with society, not in Ireland and Scotland only, but
in England; a fount of destiny which, if once poisoned, away goes all
hope of quiet progress in well doing. The constitution of England, which
seems about to be destroyed, offers to my mind the sublimest
contemplation which the history of society and government have ever
presented to it; and for this cause especially, that its principles have
the character of preconceived ideas, archetypes of the pure intellect,
while they are, in fact, the results of a humble-minded experience.
Think about this, apply it to what we are threatened with, and farewell.
WM. WORDSWORTH.[124]
77. _Of the Reform Bill_.
EXTRACT OF LETTER TO LORD LONSDALE.
Rydal Mount, Feb. 17. 1832.
MY LORD,
* * * * *
If, after all, I should be asked how I would myself vote, if it had been
my fortune to have a seat in the House of Lords, I must say that I
should oppose the second reading, though with my eyes open to the great
hazard of doing so. My support, however, would be found in standing by a
great _principle_; for, without being unbecomingly personal, I may state
to your Lordship, that it has ever been the habit of my mind to trust
that expediency will come out of fidelity to principles, rather than to
seek my principles of action in calculations of expediency.
[124] _Memoirs_, ii. 255-7, with important additions from the original.
G.
With this observation I conclude, trusting your Lordship will excuse my
having detained you so long.
I have the honour to be, most faithfully,
Your much obliged,
WM. WORDSWORTH.[125]
78. _Of Political Affairs_.
EXTRACT OF LETTER TO LADY FREDERICK BENTINCK.
You were not mistaken in supposing that the state of public affairs has
troubled me much. I cannot see how the government is to be carried on,
but by such sacrifices to the democracy as will, sooner or later, upset
everything. Whoever governs, it will be by out-bidding for popular
favour those who went before them. Sir Robert Peel was obliged to give
way in his government to the spirit of Reform, as it is falsely called;
these men are going beyond him; and if ever he shall come back, it will
only, I fear, be to carry on the movement, in a shape somewhat less
objectionable than it will take from the Whigs. In the mean while the
Radicals or Republicans are cunningly content to have this work done
ostensibly by the Whigs, while in fact they themselves are the Whigs'
masters, as the Whigs well know; but they hope to be preserved from
destruction by throwing themselves back upon the Tories when measures
shall be urged upon them by their masters which they may think too
desperate. What I am most afraid of is, alterations in the constituency,
and in the duration of Parliament, which will bring it more and more
under the dominion of the lower and lowest classes. On this account I
fear the proposed Corporation Reform, as a step towards household
suffrage, vote by ballot, &c. As to a union of the Tories and Whigs in
Parliament, I see no prospect of it whatever. To the great Whig lords
may be truly applied the expression in _Macbeth_,
'They have eaten of the insane root
That takes the reason prisoner.'
* * * * *
I ordered two copies of my new volume to be sent to Cottesmere. And now
farewell; and believe me,
Dear Lady Frederick, ever faithfully yours,
W. WORDSWORTH.[126]
[125] _Memoirs_, ii. 257.
[126] _Ibid._ ii. 258-9. Y
79. _Family Affliction and State of Public Affairs_.
LETTER TO THE REV. DR. WORDSWORTH.
Rydal Mount, April 1. 1832.
MY DEAR BROTHER,
Our dear sister makes no progress towards recovery of strength. She is
very feeble, never quits her room, and passes most of the day in, or
upon, the bed. She does not suffer much pain, and is very cheerful, and
nothing troubles her but public affairs and the sense of requiring so
much attention. Whatever may be the close of this illness, it will be a
profound consolation to you, my dear brother, and to us all, that it is
borne with perfect resignation; and that her thoughts are such as the
good and pious would wish. She reads much, both religious and
miscellaneous works.
If you see Mr. Watson, remember me affectionately to him.