Part 10

[Footnote BT: Bowfell, Great End, Shelter Crags, and Pike o' Blisco to the west straight before them, the Langdale Pikes to the north on the right, with Wrynose, Wetherlam, and the Coniston Mountains to the south-west.--ED.]

[Footnote BU: The head of Little Langdale, with Blea Tarn in the centre, as seen from the top of Lingmoor, the only point, except the summit of Blake Rigg, from which it appears "urn-like."

With the six previous lines compare Beattie's _Minstrel_, book ii. stanza vi.--

It was his chance to wander far abroad, And o'er a lonely eminence to climb, Which, heretofore, his foot had never trode; A vale appeared below, a deep retired abode. ED. ]

[Footnote BV: The "small opening, where a heath-clad ridge supplied a boundary," is that which leads down into Little Langdale by Fell Foot and Busk.--ED.]

[Footnote BW: The "nook" is not now "treeless," but the fir-wood on the western side of the Vale adds to its "quiet," and deepens the sense of seclusion.--ED.]

[Footnote BX: Blea Tarn. "The scene in which this small piece of water lies, suggested to the Author the following description (given in his poem of _The Excursion_), supposing the spectator to look down upon it, not from the road, but from one of its elevated sides." (See Wordsworth's _Description of the Scenery of the District of the Lakes_ in his _Prose Works_.)--ED.]

[Footnote BY: The solitary cottage, called Blea Tarn house, which is passed on the left of the road under Side Pike.--ED.]

[Footnote BZ: The following is from Dorothy Wordsworth's Grasmere Journal: Wednesday, 3rd September 1800.--"I went to a funeral at John Dawson's. About 10 men and 4 women.... The dead person 56 years of age, buried by the parish.... They set the corpse down at the door; and, while we stood within the threshold, the men, with their hats off, sang, with decent and solemn countenances, a verse of a funeral psalm. The corpse was then borne down the hill, and they sang till they had passed the Town-end. I was affected to tears while we stood in the house.... There were no near kindred, no children. When we got out of the dark house the sun was shining, and the prospect looked as divinely beautiful as I ever saw it. It seemed more sacred than I had ever seen it, and yet more allied to human life.... When we came to the bridge, they began to sing again, and stopped during four lines before they entered the churchyard." Compare this with such phrases in _The Excursion_ as--

They shaped their course along the sloping side Of that small valley, singing as they moved; A sober company and few, the men Bare-headed, --(p. 84.)

We heard the hymn they sang--a solemn sound Heard any where; but in a place like this 'Tis more than human! --(p. 90.)--ED. ]

[Footnote CA: See the note on the preceding page.--ED.]

[Footnote CB: Descending from the top of Lingmoor to Blea Tarn.--ED.]

[Footnote CC: The upper part of Little Langdale, descending to Fell Foot.--ED.]

[Footnote CD: A spot exactly similar to this can easily be found, about two hundred yards above the house, in the narrow gorge of Blea Tarn Ghyll, below a waterfall, where a "moss-grown wall" still approaches the rock on the other side of the stream, and where a "penthouse" might easily be made by children.--ED.]

[Footnote CE: It may not be too trivial to note that, to this day, in the Cumberland and Westmoreland vales, one of the favourite games of children on the fell-sides near their cottages, is playing at mimic gardens and parterres, made out of fragments of broken pottery.--ED.]

[Footnote CF: Compare Lamb's remark in a letter to Wordsworth, 14th August 1814. See _Letters of Charles Lamb_, edited by Canon Ainger, vol. i. p. 271.--ED.]

[Footnote CG: The flat ground on the more level part of the valley near Blea Tarn cottage.--ED.]

[Footnote CH: Compare _Resolution and Independence_, stanza xiii. (see vol. ii. p. 319).--ED.]

[Footnote CI: Compare the note p. 83; also the Fenwick note, in which Wordsworth laments the change in the "manner in which, till lately, every one was borne to the place of sepulture."--ED.]

[Footnote CJ: The custom of mourners kneeling round the coffin was, till quite lately, in common use. It is still observed in some churches in Cumberland and Westmoreland, but is gradually passing away.--ED.]

[Footnote CK: Blea Tarn house is a humble cottage, resembling Anne Tyson's house at Hawkshead where Wordsworth lived when at school. On the ground-floor are a parlour, kitchen, and dairy. You ascend by nine stone steps to the upper flat, where there are four small rooms, and the window of one of them faces the north in the direction of the Langdale Pikes. The foundations of an older house may be seen a little lower down, about twenty yards nearer the tarn; but the present house was probably standing at the beginning of this century. As there are two poplars to the north of the cottage, and a sycamore near them, it is not likely that the place was _entirely_ "treeless" in Wordsworth's time. In the Fenwick memoranda he says "the cottage was called Hackett, and stands, as described, on the southern extremity of the ridge which separates the two Langdales." In this he evidently confounds Hackett cottage, near Colwith--which separates the two Langdales as you ascend them from the lower country--with the Blea Tarn cottage, which stands on "the southern extremity of the ridge which separates the Langdale" valleys as you descend them.--ED.]

[Footnote CL: It is generally supposed that the

two huge Peaks, That from some other vale peered into this,

are the Langdale Pikes; and it is the most likely supposition. But, if the three were seated, as described, in the upper room of the cottage (which has one small window looking toward the Pikes), they could not possibly see them. Side Pike and Pike o' Blisco alone could be seen. Either then, these are the Peaks referred to; or, what is much more likely, the realism of the narrative here gives way; and the far finer pikes of Langdale are introduced--although they are not visible from the house--because they belong to the district, and can be seen from so many points around. The phrases "from some other vale" and "lusty twins" point unmistakably to those two characteristic pikes which "peer" over the crest of the ridge dividing the Langdale valleys. "Let a man," says Dr. Cradock, "as he approaches Blea Tarn from Little Langdale, see these slowly rising, and peering alone over the depression (or Haws) which divides the Langdales, and he cannot doubt that they are the 'lusty twins.' Let the Haws be in shadow, and the Pikes in sunlight, or the reverse, and the effect is one of the most striking in all the district." Compare the sonnet, _November 1, 1815_, beginning--

How clear, how keen, how marvellously bright. ED. ]

[Footnote CM: This is strictly accurate. On and about the 21st June, the sun, as seen from Blea Tarn, sets just between the Langdale Pikes.--ED.]

[Footnote CN: "Mark how the wind rejoices in these peaks, and they give back its wild pleasure; how all the things which touch and haunt them get their reply; how they are loved and love; how busy are the mute agents there; how proud the stars to shine on them." (Stopford A. Brooke's _Theology in the English Poets_, p. 108.)--ED.]

[Footnote CO: "The account given by the Solitary, towards the close of the second book, in all that belongs to the character of the old man, was taken from a Grasmere pauper, who was boarded in the last house quitting the vale on the road to Ambleside."--I.F.]

[Footnote CP: "The character of his hostess, and all that befell the poor man upon the mountain, belongs to Paterdale. The woman I knew well; her name was Ruth Jackson, and she was exactly such a person as I describe. The ruins of the old chapel, among which the old man was found lying, may yet be traced, and stood upon the ridge that divides Paterdale from Boardale and Martindale, having been placed there for the convenience of both districts."--I.F.

The following is Dorothy Wordsworth's account of the same occurrence, given in a record of what she called "a Mountainous Ramble," written in 1805. Her brother afterwards incorporated this passage, with a few alterations, in his _Description of the Scenery of the Lakes_.

"Looked into Boar Dale above Sanwick--deep and bare, a stream winding down it. After having walked a considerable way on the tops of the hills, came in view of Glenridding and the mountains above Grisdale. Luff then took us aside, before we had begun to descend, to a small ruin, which was formerly a chapel or place of worship where the inhabitants of Martindale and Paterdale were accustomed to meet on Sundays. There are now no traces by which you could discover that the building had been different from a common sheepfold; the loose stones and the few which yet remain piled up are the same as those which lie about on the mountain; but the shape of the building being oblong is not that of a common sheepfold, and it stands east and west. Whether it was ever consecrated ground or not I know not; but the place may be kept holy in the memory of some now living in Paterdale; for it was the means of preserving the life of a poor old man last summer, who, having gone up the mountain to gather peats, had been overtaken by a storm, and could not find his way down again. He happened to be near the remains of the old chapel, and, in a corner of it, he contrived, by laying turf and ling and stones from one wall to the other, to make a shelter from the wind, and there he lay all night. The woman who had sent him on his errand began to grow uneasy towards night, and the neighbours went out to seek him. At that time the old man had housed himself in his nest, and he heard the voices of the men, but could not make _them_ hear, the wind being so loud, and he was afraid to leave the spot lest he should not be able to find it again, so he remained there all night; and they returned to their homes, giving him up for lost; but the next morning the same persons discovered him huddled up in the sheltered nook. He was at first stupefied and unable to move; but after he had eaten and drunk, and recollected himself a little, he walked down the mountain, and did not afterwards seem to have suffered."--ED.]

[Footnote CQ: Compare Ezekiel, chap. i.--ED.]

[Footnote CR: "The glorious appearance disclosed above and among the mountains, was described partly from what my friend Mr. Luff, who then lived in Paterdale, witnessed upon that melancholy occasion, and partly from what Mary and I had seen, in company with Sir George and Lady Beaumont, above Hartshope Hall, on our way from Paterdale to Ambleside."--I. F.

Compare the lines 827-881 with the account of the view from the top of Snowdon, in _The Prelude_, book xiv. II. 11-62 (vol. iii. pp. 367-68), and see Charles Lamb's remarks in his letter to Wordsworth (Aug. 14, 1814) on receiving a copy of _The Excursion_. (_Letters of Charles Lamb_, edited by Alfred Ainger, vol. i. p. 271.) In his _Table Talk_ Coleridge expresses a wish "that the first two books of _The Excursion_ had been published separately under the name of 'The Deserted Cottages.' They would have formed, what indeed they are, one of the most beautiful poems in the language." This advice has been followed more than once--ED.]

=Book Third=

DESPONDENCY

ARGUMENT

_Images in the Valley--Another Recess in it entered and described--Wanderer's sensations--Solitary's excited by the same objects--Contrast between these--Despondency of the Solitary gently reproved--Conversation exhibiting the Solitary's past and present opinions and feelings, till he enters upon his own History at length--His domestic felicity--Afflictions--Dejection--Roused by the French Revolution--Disappointment and disgust--Voyage to America--Disappointment and disgust pursue him--His return--His languor and depression of mind, from want of faith in the great truths of Religion, and want of confidence in the virtue of Mankind._

A HUMMING BEE--a little tinkling rill-- A pair of falcons wheeling on the wing, In clamorous agitation, round the crest Of a tall rock, their airy citadel-- By each and all of these the pensive ear 5 Was greeted, in the silence that ensued, When through the cottage threshold we had passed, And, deep within that lonesome valley, stood Once more beneath the concave of a[211] blue And cloudless sky.--Anon exclaimed our Host, 10 Triumphantly dispersing with the taunt The shade of discontent which on his brow Had gathered,--"Ye have left my cell,--but see How Nature hems you in with friendly arms! And by her help ye are my prisoners still. 15 But which way shall I lead you?--how contrive, In spot so parsimoniously endowed, That the brief hours, which yet remain, may reap Some recompense of knowledge or delight?" So saying, round he looked, as if perplexed; 20 And, to remove those doubts, my grey-haired Friend Said--"Shall we take this pathway for our guide?-- Upward it winds, as if, in summer heats, Its line had first been fashioned by the flock Seeking a place of refuge[212] at the root 25 Of yon black Yew-tree, whose protruded boughs Darken the silver bosom of the crag,[CS] From which she draws her[213] meagre sustenance. There in commodious shelter may we rest. Or let us trace this streamlet to its[214] source; 30 Feebly it tinkles with an earthy sound, And a few steps may bring us to the spot Where, haply, crowned with flowerets and green herbs, The mountain infant to the sun comes forth, Like human life from darkness."--A quick turn[215] 35 Through a strait passage of encumbered ground, Proved that such hope was vain:--for now we stood Shut out from prospect of the open vale, And saw the water, that composed this rill, Descending, disembodied, and diffused 40 O'er the smooth surface of an ample crag, Lofty, and steep, and naked as a tower. All further progress here was barred;--And who, Thought I, if master of a vacant hour, Here would not linger, willingly detained? 45 Whether to such wild objects he were led When copious rains have magnified the stream Into a loud and white-robed waterfall, Or introduced at this more quiet time.

Upon a semicirque of turf-clad ground, 50 The hidden nook discovered to our view A mass of rock, resembling, as it lay Right at the foot of that moist precipice, A stranded ship, with keel upturned, that rests Fearless of winds and waves. Three several stones 55 Stood near, of smaller size, and not unlike To monumental pillars: and, from these Some little space disjoined, a pair were seen, That with united shoulders bore aloft A fragment, like an altar, flat and smooth: 60 Barren the tablet, yet thereon appeared[216] A tall and shining holly, that[217] had found A hospitable chink, and stood upright, As if inserted by some human hand In mockery, to wither in the sun, 65 Or lay its beauty flat before a breeze, The first that entered. But no breeze did now Find entrance;--high or low appeared no trace Of motion, save the water that descended, Diffused adown that barrier of steep rock, 70 And softly creeping, like a breath of air, Such as is sometimes seen, and hardly seen, To brush the still breast of a crystal lake.[CT]

"Behold a cabinet for sages built, Which kings might envy!"--Praise to this effect 75 Broke from the happy old Man's reverend lip; Who to the Solitary turned, and said, "In sooth, with love's familiar privilege, You have decried the wealth which is your own.[218] Among these rocks and stones, methinks, I see 80 More than the heedless impress that belongs To lonely nature's casual work: they bear A semblance strange of power intelligent, And of design not wholly worn away. Boldest of plants that ever faced the wind, 85 How gracefully that slender shrub looks forth From its fantastic birth-place! And I own, Some shadowy intimations haunt me here, That in these shows[219] a chronicle survives Of purposes akin to those of Man,[CU] 90 But wrought with mightier arm than now prevails. --Voiceless the stream descends into the gulf With timid lapse;--and lo! while in this strait I stand--the chasm of sky above my head Is heaven's profoundest azure; no domain 95 For fickle, short-lived clouds to occupy, Or to pass through; but rather an abyss In which the everlasting stars abide; And whose soft gloom, and boundless depth, might tempt The curious eye to look for them by day.[CV] 100 --Hail Contemplation! from the stately towers, Reared by the industrious hand of human art To lift thee high above the misty air And turbulence of murmuring cities vast; From academic groves, that have for thee 105 Been planted, hither come and find a lodge To which thou mayst resort for holier peace,-- From whose calm centre thou, through height or depth, Mayst penetrate, wherever truth shall lead; Measuring through all degrees, until the scale 110 Of time and conscious nature disappear, Lost in unsearchable eternity!"[CW]

A pause ensued; and with minuter care We scanned the various features of the scene: And soon the Tenant of that lonely vale 115 With courteous voice thus spake-- "I should have grieved Hereafter, not escaping self-reproach,[220] If from my poor retirement ye had gone Leaving this nook unvisited: but, in sooth, Your unexpected presence had so roused 120 My spirits, that they were bent on enterprise; And, like an ardent hunter, I forgot, Or, shall I say?--disdained, the game that lurks[221] At my own door. The shapes before our eyes, And their arrangement, doubtless must be deemed 125 The sport of Nature, aided by blind Chance Rudely to mock the works of toiling Man. And hence, this upright shaft of unhewn stone, From Fancy, willing to set off her stores By sounding titles, hath acquired the name 130 Of Pompey's pillar; that I gravely style My Theban obelisk; and, there, behold A Druid cromlech!--thus I entertain The antiquarian humour, and am pleased To skim along the surfaces of things, 135 Beguiling harmlessly the listless hours. But if the spirit be oppressed by sense Of instability, revolt, decay, And change, and emptiness, these freaks of Nature And her blind helper Chance, do _then_ suffice 140 To quicken, and to aggravate--to feed Pity and scorn, and melancholy pride, Not less than that huge Pile (from some abyss Of mortal power unquestionably sprung)[CX] Whose hoary diadem of pendent rocks 145 Confines the shrill-voiced whirlwind, round and round Eddying within its vast circumference, On Sarum's naked plain--than pyramid Of Egypt, unsubverted, undissolved-- Or Syria's marble ruins towering high[CY] 150 Above the sandy desert, in the light Of sun or moon.--Forgive me, if I say That an appearance which hath raised your minds To an exalted pitch (the self-same cause Different effect producing) is for me 155 Fraught rather with depression than delight, Though shame it were, could I not look around,[222] By the reflection of your pleasure, pleased. Yet happier, in my judgment, even than you With your bright transports, fairly may be deemed 160 The wandering Herbalist,[223]--who, clear alike From vain, and, that worse evil, vexing thoughts, Casts, if he ever chance to enter here, Upon these uncouth Forms[224] a slight regard Of transitory interest, and peeps round 165 For some rare floweret of the hills, or plant Of craggy fountain; what he hopes for wins, Or learns, at least, that 'tis not to be won: Then, keen and eager, as a fine-nosed hound By soul-engrossing instinct driven along 170 Through wood or open field, the harmless Man Departs, intent upon his onward quest!-- Nor is that Fellow-wanderer, so deem I, Less to be envied, (you may trace him oft By scars which his activity has left 175 Beside our roads and pathways, though, thank Heaven! This covert nook reports not of his hand) He who with pocket-hammer smites the edge Of luckless rock or prominent stone, disguised In weather-stains or crusted o'er by Nature 180 With her first growths,[225] detaching by the stroke A chip or splinter--to resolve his doubts; And, with that ready answer satisfied, The substance classes by some barbarous name, And[226] hurries on; or from the fragments picks 185 His specimen, if but haply interveined[227] With sparkling mineral, or should crystal cube Lurk in its cells--and thinks himself enriched, Wealthier, and doubtless wiser, than before! Intrusted safely each to his pursuit, 190 Earnest alike, let both from hill to hill Range;[228] if it please them, speed from clime to clime; The mind is full--and free from pain their pastime."[229]

"Then," said I, interposing, "One is near, Who cannot but possess in your esteem 195 Place worthier still of envy. May I name, Without offence, that fair-faced cottage-boy? Dame Nature's pupil of the lowest form, Youngest apprentice in the school of art! Him, as we entered from the open glen, 200 You might have noticed, busily engaged, Heart, soul, and hands,--in mending the defects Left in the fabric of a leaky dam Raised[230] for enabling this penurious stream To turn a slender mill (that new-made plaything) 205 For his delight--the happiest he of all!"

"Far happiest," answered the desponding Man, "If, such as now he is, he might remain! Ah! what avails imagination high Or question deep? what profits all that earth, 210 Or heaven's blue vault, is suffered to put forth Of impulse or allurement, for the Soul To quit the beaten track of life, and soar Far as she finds a yielding element In past or future; far as she can go 215 Through time or space--if neither in the one, Nor in the other region, nor in aught That Fancy, dreaming o'er the map of things, Hath placed beyond these penetrable bounds, Words of assurance can be heard; if nowhere 220 A habitation, for consummate good, Or for[231] progressive virtue, by the search Can be attained,--a better sanctuary From doubt and sorrow, than the senseless grave?"