Part 25

[Footnote HD: "His story is here truly related. He was a schoolfellow of mine for some years. He came to us when he was at least seventeen years of age, very tall, robust, and full grown. This prevented him from falling into the amusements and games of the school; consequently, he gave more time to books. He was not remarkably bright or quick, but, by industry, he made a progress more than respectable. His parents not being wealthy enough to send him to college when he left Hawkshead, he became a schoolmaster, with a view to prepare himself for holy orders. About this time he fell in love, as related in the poem, and everything followed as there described, except that I do not know exactly when and where he died."--I. F.]

[Footnote HE: Compare, in Keble's _Christian Year_, "Forms of Prayer to be used at Sea."

Far, far away, the home-sick seaman's hoard, Thy fragrant tokens live, Like flower-leaves in a precious volume stored, To solace and relieve, etc. ED. ]

[Footnote HF: "The Miner, described as having found his treasure after twice ten years of labour, lived in Paterdale, and the story is true to the letter. It seems to me, however, rather remarkable, that the strength of mind which had supported him through his long unrewarded labour, did not enable him to bear its successful issue."--I.F.]

[Footnote HG: See _Paradise Lost_, book v. l. 899.--ED.]

[Footnote HH: See _Comus_, I. 244.--ED.]

[Footnote HI: "The next character, to whom the priest is led by contrast with the resoluteness displayed by the foregoing, is taken from a person born and bred in Grasmere, by name Dawson; and whose talents, dispositions, and way of life, were such as are here delineated. I did not know him, but all was fresh in memory when we settled at Grasmere in the beginning of the century."--I. F.]

[Footnote HJ: Hawkshead. The series of small valleys from Dunmail Raise to Esthwaite is described as one "far-winding vale."--ED.]

[Footnote HK: "Two individuals, who, by their several fortunes, were, at different times, driven to take refuge at the small and obscure town of Hawkshead on the skirt of these mountains. Their stories I had from the dear old dame with whom, as a schoolboy, and afterwards, I lodged for nearly the space of ten years. The elder, the Jacobite, was named Drummond, and was of a high family in Scotland."--I. F.]

[Footnote HL: "The Hanoverian Whig bore the name of Vandeput [Sir George Vandeput], and might, perhaps, be a descendant of some Dutchman who had come over in the train of King William."--I.F.]

[Footnote HM: Of this "dial," as of the "decorated pillar," there is no trace in Grasmere churchyard, and no tradition exists of either. There is, however, a pillar in Bowness churchyard in which a dial used to stand, and Wordsworth may have blended his descriptions of Grasmere with his remembrances of Bowness.--ED.]

[Footnote HN: See the note on the previous page.]

[Footnote HO: This may be an allusion to Wray Ghyll Force, which descends between Silver How and Easdale. No other white torrent falling down rocks is visible from the Grasmere churchyard. This one is distinctly seen, when looking towards Silver How to the west.--ED.]

[Footnote HP: Compare "How many people there are that weep with want, and are mad with oppression, or are desperate by too quick a sense of a constant infelicity."--Jeremy Taylor's _Rule and Exercises of Holy Dying_, i. 5, 2.--ED.]

[Footnote HQ: Prometheus, son of the Titan Iapetus, outwitted Jupiter, stealing fire from heaven, etc. Jupiter, in revenge, caused Vulcan to chain him to a rock in the Caucasus, where an eagle or vulture preyed on his liver daily. See Æsch. _Prometheus_. Compare, "Prometheus tied to Caucasus," _Titus Andronicus_, act II. scene i.--ED.]

[Footnote HR: Tantalus, son of Jupiter, punished for disclosing his father's secrets, by being placed after death up to the chin in the waters of a lake, which withdrew whenever he attempted to drink, while boughs laden with fruit hung above his head, and were tossed from him by the wind whenever he tried to grasp them.--ED.]

[Footnote HS: "The dark sorrows of the line of Thebes" descended for three generations; from Lais and Iocaste to Œdipus; thence to Eteocles, Polynices, Antigone, and Ismene.

Compare Milton's lines in _Il Penseroso_, ll. 97-100--

Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy In sceptred pall come sweeping by, Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine. ED. ]

[Footnote HT: Grasmere churchyard was, in Wordsworth's time,

almost wholly free From interruption of sepulchral stones.

Compare the Fenwick note to the _Epistle to Sir George Beaumont_ (vol. iv. p. 258). Dr. Cradock wrote in 1878--"I cannot count more than two or three gravestones of earlier date than 1800. Most of the others are of a much more recent date."--ED.]

[Footnote HU: Was he thinking of such a spectacle as the churchyard at Crosthwaite, Keswick, now presents?--ED.]

[Footnote HV: "This person lived at Town-end, and was almost our next neighbour.... She was a most striking instance how far a woman may surpass in talent, in knowledge, and culture of mind, those with and among whom she lives, and yet fall below them in Christian virtues of the heart and spirit."--I.F.]

[Footnote HW: As is notably the case with the beck in Tongue Ghyll.--ED.]

[Footnote HX: This "long stone seat" (now a thing of the past) was fixed to the wall on the left of the south entrance-gate into the churchyard; and not--as might have been supposed--on the opposite wall, which reaches from the entrance-gate to the poet's grave. The old wall was rebuilt by the late rector, but the seat was not replaced.--ED.]

[Footnote HY: "The story was told to Mrs. Wordsworth and my sister, by the sister of this unhappy young woman. Every particular was exactly as I have related.... She lived at Hawkshead."--I. F. See the whole of the Fenwick note, also Charles Lamb's remarks, in his letter of Aug. 14, 1814.--ED.]

[Footnote HZ: Compare the Hon. Justice Coleridge's "Reminiscences" of a walk and conversation with Wordsworth (October 1836) in Easdale, where--at the pool, which many have identified as "Emma's Dell"--he said, "I have often thought what a solemn thing it would be could we have brought to our mind at once all the scenes of distress and misery which any spot, however beautiful and calm before us, has been witness to since the beginning." (See vol. ii. p. 156.)--ED.]

[Footnote IA: Compare _Hamlet_, act III. scene i. l. 72--

The pangs of despised love, the law's delay. ED. ]

[Footnote IB: This custom still survives in the country; sons working as servants on ground belonging to their parents, and receiving payment for it.--ED.]

Book Seventh

THE CHURCH-YARD AMONG THE MOUNTAINS--_Continued_

ARGUMENT

_Impression of these Narratives upon the Author's mind--Pastor invited to give account of certain Graves that lie apart--Clergyman and his Family--Fortunate influence of change of situation--Activity in extreme old age--Another Clergyman, a character of resolute Virtue--Lamentations over mis-directed applause--Instance of less exalted excellence in a deaf man--Elevated character of a blind man--Reflection upon Blindness--Interrupted by a Peasant who passes--his animal cheerfulness and careless vivacity--He occasions a digression on the fall of beautiful and interesting Trees--A female Infant's Grave--Joy at her Birth--Sorrow at her Departure--A youthful Peasant--his patriotic enthusiasm and distinguished qualities--his[627] untimely death--Exultation of the Wanderer, as a patriot, in this Picture--Solitary how affected--Monument of a Knight--Traditions concerning him--Peroration of the Wanderer on the transitoriness of things and the revolutions of society--Hints at his own past Calling--Thanks the Pastor._

While thus from theme to theme the Historian passed, The words he uttered, and the scene that lay Before our eyes, awakened in my mind Vivid remembrance of those long-past hours; When, in the hollow of some shadowy vale, 5 (What time the splendour of the setting sun Lay beautiful on Snowdon's sovereign brow,[628] On Cader Idris, or huge Penmanmaur) A wandering Youth, I listened with delight To pastoral melody or warlike air,[IC] 10 Drawn from the chords of the ancient British harp By some accomplished Master, while he sate Amid the quiet of the green recess, And there did inexhaustibly dispense An interchange of soft or solemn tunes, 15 Tender or blithe; now, as the varying mood Of his own spirit urged,--now, as a voice From youth or maiden, or some honoured chief Of his compatriot villagers (that hung Around him, drinking in the impassioned notes 20 Of the time-hallowed minstrelsy) required For their heart's ease or pleasure. Strains of power Were they, to seize and occupy the sense; But to a higher mark than song can reach Rose this pure eloquence. And, when the stream 25 Which overflowed the soul was passed away, A consciousness remained that it had left, Deposited upon the silent shore Of memory, images and precious thoughts, That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed. 30

"These grassy heaps lie amicably close," Said I, "like surges heaving in the wind Along[629] the surface of a mountain pool: Whence comes it, then, that yonder we behold Five graves, and only five, that rise together 35 Unsociably sequestered, and encroaching[630] On the smooth play-ground of the village-school?"[ID]

The Vicar answered,--"No disdainful pride In them who rest beneath, nor any course Of strange or tragic accident, hath helped 40 To place those hillocks in that lonely guise. --Once more look forth, and follow with your sight The length of road that[631] from yon mountain's base Through bare enclosures stretches, 'till its line Is lost within[632] a little tuft of trees;[IE] 45 Then, reappearing in a moment, quits The cultured fields; and up the heathy waste, Mounts, as you see, in mazes serpentine, Led towards[633] an easy outlet of the vale.[IF] That little shady spot, that sylvan tuft, 50 By which the road is hidden, also hides A cottage from our view; though I discern (Ye scarcely can) amid its sheltering trees The smokeless chimney-top.--

"All unembowered And naked stood that lowly Parsonage 55 (For such in truth it is, and appertains To a small Chapel in the vale beyond) When hither came its last Inhabitant.[IG] Rough and forbidding were the choicest roads By which our northern wilds could then be crossed; 60 And into most of these secluded vales[634] Was no access for wain, heavy or light. So, at his dwelling-place the Priest arrived With store of household goods, in panniers slung On sturdy horses graced with jingling bells, 65 And on the back of more ignoble beast; That, with like burthen of effects most prized Or easiest carried, closed the motley train. Young was I then, a school-boy of eight years; But still, methinks, I see them as they passed 70 In order, drawing toward[635] their wished-for home. --Rocked by the motion of a trusty ass Two ruddy children hung, a well-poised freight, Each in his basket nodding drowsily; Their bonnets, I remember, wreathed with flowers, 75 Which told it was[636] the pleasant month of June; And, close behind, the comely Matron rode, A woman of soft speech and gracious smile, And with a lady's mien.--From far they came, Even from Northumbrian hills; yet theirs had been 80 A merry journey, rich in pastime, cheered By music, prank, and laughter-stirring jest; And freak put on, and arch word dropped--to swell The cloud of fancy and uncouth surmise That gathered round the slowly-moving train. 85 --'Whence do they come? and with what errand charged? 'Belong they to the fortune-telling tribe 'Who pitch their tents under the green-wood tree? 'Or Strollers are they,[637] furnished to enact 'Fair Rosamond,[IH] and the Children of the Wood,[II] 90 'And, by that whiskered tabby's aid, set forth 'The lucky venture of sage Whittington,[IJ] 'When the next village hears the show announced 'By blast of trumpet?' Plenteous was the growth Of such conjectures, overheard, or seen 95 On many a staring countenance portrayed Of boor or burgher, as they marched along. And more than once their steadiness of face Was put to proof, and exercise supplied To their inventive humour, by stern looks, 100 And questions in authoritative tone, From some staid guardian of the public peace, Checking the sober steed on which he rode, In his suspicious wisdom; oftener still, By notice indirect, or blunt demand 105 From traveller halting in his own despite, A simple curiosity to ease: Of which adventures, that beguiled and cheered Their grave migration, the good pair would tell, With undiminished glee, in hoary age. 110

"A Priest he was by function; but his course From his youth up, and high as manhood's noon, (The hour of life to which he then was brought) Had been irregular, I might say, wild; By books unsteadied, by his pastoral care 115 Too little checked. An active, ardent mind; A fancy pregnant with resource and scheme To cheat the sadness of a rainy day; Hands apt for all ingenious arts and games; A generous spirit, and a body strong 120 To cope with stoutest champions of the bowl; Had earned for him sure welcome, and the rights Of a prized visitant, in the jolly hall Of country 'squire; or at the statelier board Of duke or earl, from scenes of courtly pomp 125 Withdrawn,--to while away the summer hours In condescension among rural guests.

"With these high comrades he had revelled long, Frolicked industriously, a simple Clerk By hopes of coming patronage beguiled 130 Till the heart sickened. So, each loftier aim Abandoning and all his showy friends,[638] For a life's stay (slender it was, but sure) He turned to this secluded chapelry; That[639] had been offered to his doubtful choice 135 By an unthought-of patron. Bleak and bare They found the cottage, their allotted home; Naked without, and rude within; a spot With which the Cure not long had been endowed: And far remote the chapel stood,[IK]--remote, 140 And, from his Dwelling, unapproachable, Save through a gap high in the hills, an opening Shadeless and shelterless, by driving showers Frequented, and beset with howling winds.[640] Yet cause was none, whate'er regret might hang 145 On his own mind, to quarrel with the choice Or the necessity that fixed him here; Apart from old temptations, and constrained To punctual labour in his sacred charge. See him a constant preacher to the poor! 150 And visiting, though not with saintly zeal, Yet, when need was, with no reluctant will, The sick in body, or distrest in mind; And, by as salutary change, compelled To rise[641] from timely sleep, and meet the day 155 With no engagement, in his thoughts, more proud Or splendid than his garden could afford, His fields, or mountains by the heath-cock ranged, Or the[642] wild brooks; from which he now returned Contented to partake the quiet meal 160 Of his own board,[643] where sat his gentle Mate And three fair Children, plentifully fed Though simply, from their little household farm; Nor wanted timely treat[644] of fish or fowl By nature yielded to his practised hand;-- 165 To help the small but certain comings-in Of that spare benefice. Yet not the less Theirs was a hospitable board, and theirs A charitable door. "So days and years Passed on;--the inside of that rugged house 170 Was trimmed and brightened by the Matron's care, And gradually enriched with things of price, Which might be lacked for use or ornament. What, though no soft and costly sofa there Insidiously stretched out its lazy length, 175 And no vain mirror glittered upon[645] the walls, Yet were the windows of the low abode By shutters weather-fended, which[646] at once Repelled the storm and deadened its loud roar. There snow-white curtains hung in decent folds; 180 Tough moss, and long-enduring mountain plants, That creep along the ground with sinuous trail, Were nicely braided; and composed a work Like Indian mats, that with appropriate grace Lay at the threshold and the inner doors; 185 And a fair carpet, woven of homespun wool But tinctured daintily with florid hues, For seemliness and warmth, on festal[647] days, Covered the smooth blue slabs of mountain-stone With which the parlour-floor, in simplest guise 190 Of pastoral homesteads, had been long inlaid.[IL]

"Those[648] pleasing works the Housewife's skill produced: Meanwhile the unsedentary Master's hand Was busier with his task--to rid, to plant, To rear for food, for shelter, and delight; 195 A thriving covert! And when wishes, formed In youth, and sanctioned by the riper mind, Restored me to my native valley, here To end my days; well pleased was I to see The once-bare cottage, on the mountain-side, 200 Screen'd from assault of every bitter blast; While the dark shadows of the summer leaves Danced in the breeze, chequering its mossy roof.[649] Time, which had thus afforded willing help To beautify with nature's fairest growths[650] 205 This rustic tenement, had gently shed, Upon its Master's frame, a wintry grace; The comeliness of unenfeebled age.

"But how could I say, gently? for he still Retained a flashing eye, a burning palm, 210 A stirring foot, a[651] head which beat at nights Upon its pillow with a thousand schemes. Few likings had he dropped, few pleasures lost; Generous and charitable, prompt to serve; And still his harsher passions kept their hold-- 215 Anger and indignation. Still he loved The sound of titled names, and talked in glee Of long-past banquetings with high-born friends: Then, from those lulling fits of vain delight Uproused by recollected injury, railed 220 At their false ways disdainfully,--and oft In bitterness, and with a threatening eye Of fire, incensed beneath its hoary brow. --Those[652] transports, with staid looks of pure good-will, And with soft smile, his consort would reprove. 225 She, far behind him in the race of years, Yet keeping her first mildness, was advanced Far nearer, in the habit of her soul, To that still region whither all are bound. Him might we liken to the setting sun 230 As seen not seldom[653] on some gusty day, Struggling and bold, and shining from the west With an inconstant and unmellowed light; She was a soft attendant cloud, that hung As if with wish to veil the restless orb; 235 From which it did itself imbibe a ray Of pleasing lustre.--But no more of this; I better love to sprinkle on the sod That[654] now divides the pair, or rather say, That[655] still unites them, praises, like heaven's dew, 240 Without reserve descending[656] upon both.

[657]"Our very first in eminence of years This old Man stood, the patriarch of the Vale! And, to his unmolested mansion, death Had never come, through space of forty years; 245 Sparing both old and young in that abode. Suddenly then they disappeared: not twice Had summer scorched the fields; not twice had fallen, On those high peaks, the first autumnal snow, Before the greedy visiting was closed, 250 And the long-privileged house left empty--swept As by a plague.[IM] Yet no rapacious plague Had been among them; all was gentle death, One after one, with intervals of peace. A happy consummation! an accord 255 Sweet, perfect, to be wished for! save that here Was something which to mortal sense might sound Like harshness,--that the old grey-headed Sire, The oldest, he was taken last, survived When the meek Partner of his age, his Son, 260 His Daughter, and that late and high-prized gift, His little smiling Grandchild, were no more.