The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 6 (of 8)
mill. It was only by inquiring of the older inhabitants that I learnt
these ruined walls standing by the Beck represent that 'mill for spinning yarn,' of which Wordsworth says that it calls to mind 'the momentous changes wrought by such inventions in the frame of society.' The ruin stands on the Tarn Beck, a few yards below Seathwaite Chapel, and on the other side of the stream.
The last three lines of the sonnet,
While the warm hearth exalts the mantling ale, etc.,
are probably an allusion to the Inn which, in Wordsworth's time, was to be found here. This is now a farmstead. It is called Newfield, and is just below Seathwaite Chapel. In Wordsworth's day it was inn and farm combined.
Mr. Malleson, in the article quoted above, appears (p. 576) to regard the green slope ascending towards Seathwaite Tarn, which opens on the left about a mile before the traveller reaches Seathwaite Chapel, as the 'Open Prospect'; but, though the fields here are certainly 'sprinkled o'er with dwellings,' the juxtaposition of the 'hamlet,' the 'barn and byre,' and the 'spouting mill' is wanting, and the allusion to the inn loses its point." (Herbert Rix.)
* * * * *
"It may be of interest to know that still the Newfield farm (in Wordsworth's time farm and inn combined) keeps up the well-deserved description of the poet. It is still 'a generous household.' When the yeoman, who was the last innkeeper and farmer combined, was on his death-bed, he enjoined those to whom Newfield passed to remember that 'though the license was to drop, and it was to become a private house, yet no stranger in the valley who requested a night's lodging was ever to be refused,' and the generous household are proud to keep up the tradition of hospitality." (H. D. Rawnsley.)]
[Footnote FM: Compare Virgil, _Æneid_ iii. 23--
Densis hastilibus horrida myrtus.
(W. G. Rushbrooke.) ]
XIV
"O MOUNTAIN STREAM! THE SHEPHERD AND HIS COT"
O mountain Stream! the Shepherd and his Cot Are privileged Inmates of deep solitude; Nor would the nicest Anchorite exclude A field or two of brighter green, or plot Of tillage-ground, that seemeth like a spot 5 Of stationary sunshine:--thou hast viewed These only, Duddon! with their paths renewed By fits and starts, yet this contents thee not. Thee hath some awful Spirit impelled to leave, Utterly to desert, the haunts of men,[FN] 10 Though simple thy companions were and few; And through this wilderness a passage cleave Attended but by thy own voice, save when The clouds and fowls of the air thy way pursue!
This sonnet was first published in the small two-volume edition of the _Poems_ in 1807, and was therefore written during or before 1807. In the present edition, however, it was not printed amongst the poems belonging to that year, since its appropriate place is manifestly in the series of sonnets relating to the River Duddon.--ED.
XV
"FROM THIS DEEP CHASM, WHERE QUIVERING SUNBEAMS PLAY"
From this deep chasm, where quivering sunbeams play Upon its loftiest crags, mine eyes behold A gloomy NICHE, capacious, blank, and cold;[FO] A concave free from shrubs and mosses grey; In semblance fresh, as if, with dire affray, 5 Some Statue, placed amid these regions old For tutelary service, thence had rolled, Startling the flight of timid Yesterday! Was it by mortals sculptured?--weary slaves Of slow endeavour! or abruptly cast 10 Into rude shape by fire, with roaring blast Tempestuously let loose from central caves? Or fashioned by the turbulence of waves, Then, when o'er highest hills the Deluge pass'd?
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote FN: See note [A] p. 243.--ED.]
XVI
AMERICAN TRADITION
Such fruitless questions may not long beguile Or plague the fancy 'mid the sculptured shows Conspicuous yet where Oroonoko flows; _There_ would the Indian answer with a smile Aimed at the White Man's ignorance the while, 5 Of the GREAT WATERS telling how they rose, Covered the plains, and, wandering where they chose, Mounted through every intricate defile, Triumphant.--Inundation wide and deep, O'er which his Fathers urged, to ridge and steep 10 Else unapproachable, their buoyant way; And carved, on mural cliff's undreaded side, Sun, moon, and stars, and beast of chase or prey; Whate'er they sought, shunned, loved, or deified![FP]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote FO: "The 'deep chasm' of this sonnet is identical with the 'passage cleft through the wilderness' of Sonnet XIV. It lies between the Pen on the left hand, and Wallabarrow Crag on the right. As to the _niche_, which forms the subject of the sonnet, it cannot now be identified. There are, of course, plenty of such niches in the crags which tower above the Duddon just here, but none more striking than the rest. From the fact that it was 'free from shrubs and mosses grey,' one may perhaps infer that it was a place in the cliff from which a mass of rock had recently fallen. The bed of the stream just here is a chaos of such masses of rock, some of them being of enormous size.
Mr. Chattock identifies the 'chasm' with that at Gowdrel, higher up the river--a view which, besides breaking the order of the sonnets, would seem to be excluded by Wordsworth's note on Sonnets XVII. and XVIII., wherein he expressly states that the scenery 'which gave occasion to the sonnets _from the 14th to the 20th inclusive_,' lies about Seathwaite. Mr. Chattock's remark that 'the rocks are columnar in character,' so that the fall of a fragment readily gives rise to the appearance of an elongated 'niche,' is worthy of note. It would probably apply to either chasm." (Herbert Rix.)
"I searched most carefully for some Gloomy NICHE, capacious, blank, and cold,
on Wallabarrow, but found none there sufficiently striking to suggest Sonnet XV. Standing at Newfield Farm and looking north to the Pen, where it rises beyond the ruined mill, there certainly is upon its southern face just such a niche, but the green ivy has displaced the 'gloom.'" (H. D. Rawnsley.)]
[Footnote FP: See Humboldt's Personal Narrative.--W. W. 1820.
"I cannot quit this first link (the finding of a piece of gold) of the mountains of Encaramada without recalling to mind a fact that was not unknown to Father Gili, and which was often mentioned to me during our abode in the Missions of the Orinoco. The natives of those countries have retained the belief that, 'at the time of the great waters, when their fathers were forced to have recourse to boats to escape the general inundation, the waves of the sea beat against the rocks of Encaramada.' This belief is not confined to one nation singly, the Tamanacs; it makes part of a system of historical tradition, of which we find scattered notions among the Maypures of the great cataracts, among the Indians of the Rio Erevato, which runs into the Caura, and among almost all the tribes of the Upper Orinoco. When the Tamanacs are asked how the human race survived this great Deluge, the 'age of water' of the Mexicans, they say, 'a man and a woman saved themselves on a high mountain, called Tamanacu, situated on the banks of the Asiveru, and casting behind them, over their heads, the fruits of the Mauritia palm-tree, they saw the seeds contained in those fruits produce men and women, who re-peopled the earth.' Thus we find in all its simplicity, among nations now in a savage state, a tradition which the Greeks embellished with all the charms of imagination! A few leagues from Encaramada, a rock, called _Tepu-mereme_, or 'the painted rock,' rises in the midst of the Savannah. Upon it are traced representations of animals, and symbolic figures resembling those we saw in going down the Orinoco, at a small distance below Encaramada, near the town Caycara. Similar rocks in Africa are called by travellers _fetish-stones_. I shall not make use of this term, because fetishism does not prevail among the natives of the Orinoco; and the figures of stars, of the sun, of tigers, and of crocodiles, which we found traced upon the rocks in spots now uninhabited, appeared to me in no way to denote the objects of worship of those nations. Between the banks of the Cassiquiare and the Orinoco, between Encaramada, the Capuchino, and Caycara, these hieroglyphic figures are often seen at great heights, on rocky cliffs which could be accessible only by constructing very lofty scaffolds. When the natives are asked how those figures could have been sculptured, they answer with a smile, as if relating a fact of which only a white man could be ignorant, that 'at the period of the great waters, their fathers went to that height in boats.'" Extract from _Humboldt's Travels_, vol. ii. chap. iv. pp. 182-3 (Bohn's Edition.)--ED.
"The weathering of the volcanic ash of the Pen and the cliff of Wallabarrow opposite would naturally have suggested this sonnet. Evidence of ice-marking and glacier-action are not wanting in the neighbourhood." (H. D. Rawnsley.)]
XVII
RETURN
A dark plume fetch me from yon blasted yew, Perched on whose top the Danish Raven croaks; Aloft, the imperial Bird[445] of Rome invokes Departed ages, shedding where he flew[446] Loose fragments of wild wailing, that bestrew 5 The clouds and thrill the chambers of the rocks; And into silence hush the timorous flocks, That, calmly couching[447] while the nightly dew Moistened each fleece, beneath the twinkling stars Slept amid[448] that lone Camp on Hardknot's height, 10 Whose Guardians bent the knee to Jove and Mars: Or, near[449] that mystic Round of Druid frame Tardily sinking by its proper weight Deep into patient Earth, from whose smooth breast it came!
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 445: 1820.
Wheeling aloft the Bird ... 1838.
The text of 1840 returns to that of 1820. ]
[Footnote 446: 1820.
... and still sheds anew 1838.
The text of 1840 returns to that of 1820. ]
[Footnote 447: 1827.
That slept so calmly ... 1820. ]
[Footnote 448: 1827.
These couch'd mid ... 1820. ]
[Footnote 449: 1827.
These near ... 1820. ]
XVIII
SEATHWAITE CHAPEL[FQ]
Sacred Religion! "mother of form and fear,"[FR] Dread arbitress of mutable respect, New rites ordaining when the old are wrecked, Or cease to please the fickle worshipper, Mother of Love! (that name best suits thee here)[450] 5 Mother of Love! for this deep vale, protect Truth's holy lamp, pure source of bright effect, Gifted to purge the vapoury atmosphere That seeks to stifle it;--as in those days When this low Pile a Gospel Teacher knew, 10 Whose good works formed an endless retinue: A Pastor such as Chaucer's verse portrays;[451][FS] Such as the heaven-taught skill of Herbert drew;[FT] And tender Goldsmith crowned with deathless praise![FU]
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 450: 1837.
... the fickle worshipper; If one strong wish may be embosomed here, 1820. ]
[Footnote 451: 1845.
Such Priest as Chaucer sang in fervent lays; 1820. ]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote FQ: "Seathwaite Chapel has been rebuilt. It may be worth mentioning that there is a woodcut of the original structure at p. 23 of Thorne's _Rambles by Rivers_ (12mo, London, 1844), and a good engraving in the Rev. Canon Parkinson's _Old Church Clock_ (5th edition, 1880, p. 99). The Parsonage, too, has been enlarged. It was formerly a mere cottage, with a peat-house at one end and an out-house of some kind at the other. These have been removed, and additions made to the dwelling at both ends. The brass in the church to the memory of 'Wonderful Walker' was taken from the tombstone. The stone has been turned over, and a new inscription cut." (Herbert Rix.)]
[Footnote FR: See Daniel's _Musophilus_, l. 47.--ED.]
[Footnote FS: The allusion is to the description of the "poure persoun of a toun" in the _Prologue_ to the _Canterbury Tales_, ll. 477-528.--ED.]
[Footnote FT: See George Herbert's _Priest to the Temple_.--ED.]
[Footnote FU: The reference is to the lines in _The Deserted Village_--
A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich on forty pounds a year.
ED. ]
XIX
TRIBUTARY STREAM[FV]
My frame hath often trembled with delight When hope presented some far-distant good, That seemed from heaven descending, like the flood Of yon pure waters, from their aëry height Hurrying, with lordly Duddon to unite; 5 Who, 'mid a world of images imprest On the calm depth of his transparent breast, Appears to cherish most that Torrent white, The fairest, softest, liveliest of them all! And seldom hath ear listened to a tune 10 More lulling than the busy hum of Noon, Sworn by that voice--whose murmur musical Announces to the thirsty fields a boon Dewy and fresh, till showers again shall fall.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote FV: "The 'tributary stream,' which forms the subject of this sonnet, is the Tarn Beck, which rises in Seathwaite Tarn, and joins the Duddon just opposite Newfield. Seathwaite Chapel itself is not on the Duddon, but on the Tarn Beck. The sonnet gives a perfect description of its leading characteristics.
Mr. Chattock has given an etching of the Tarn." (Herbert Rix.)
"If one stands upon the Pen and looks up the Duddon Vale, the
Field or two of brighter green, or plot Of tillage-ground, that seemeth like a spot Of stationary sunshine:
will be seen, exactly described, upon the shoulder of the Fell that drops down from Heath Fell to the north-west. Is it possible that Wordsworth, as he gazed, was moved by
the flood Of yon pure waters, from their aëry height ... that Torrent white,
just beneath the little upland farm with its emerald plot of tillage, shining like jewels in the July sun,
Hurrying, with lordly Duddon to unite,
--is it possible, I suggest, that Wordsworth was moved by this scene to write Sonnet XIX.?" (H. D. Rawnsley.)]
XX
THE PLAIN OF DONNERDALE[FW]
The old inventive Poets, had they seen, Or rather felt, the entrancement that detains Thy waters, Duddon! 'mid these flowery plains; The still repose, the liquid lapse serene, Transferred to bowers imperishably green, 5 Had beautified Elysium! But these chains Will soon be broken;--a rough course remains,[452] Rough as the past; where Thou, of placid mien, Innocuous as a firstling of the flock, And countenanced like a soft cerulean sky, 10 Shalt change thy temper; and, with many a shock Given and received in mutual jeopardy, Dance, like a Bacchanal, from rock to rock, Tossing her frantic thyrsus wide and high!
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote FW: "The term _Donnerdale_ (now usually spelt _Dunnerdale_) is strictly applied to the district on the east bank of the Duddon from Broughton up to Ulpha Bridge, and extending thence parallel to Seathwaite, from which it is divided by fells. Guide-books sometimes apply the term to the whole valley of the Duddon, but this is entirely wrong; the term is never applied by the inhabitants to the upper or confined part of the valley, and is correctly used by Wordsworth to indicate the open plain of the lower stream.
_Hall Dunnerdale_, sometimes shortened into _Dunnerdale_, is a hamlet on the high-road between Seathwaite and Ulpha. From a bridge just below this hamlet the characteristics of the stream at this part of its course as described in Sonnet XX. may best be noted. The banks are thickly wooded with oak, ash, beech, alder, sycamore, and larch; the hills are lower and greener than the fells farther up the valley, and for the moment we might almost think we had been transported to the banks of the Wey, and were looking upon a Surrey landscape. The water above and below the bridge is comparatively still. But this, as the sonnet says, is not to last long,--'a rough course remains, rough as the past.' Before we reach Ulpha Bridge 'suspended animation is again succeeded by the clamorous war of stones and waters, which assail the ear of the traveller all the way to Duddon Bridge.'"[453] (Herbert Rix.)]
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 452: 1820.
... and a course remains MS.
... For a course remains, MS. ]
[Footnote 453: Green's _Comprehensive Guide to the Lakes_, quoted in Whellan's _History and Topography_, p. 59.
[Concerning the limits of Dunnerdale, the Rev. S. R. M. Walker, Vicar of Seathwaite, in answer to a question on the subject, wrote to Mr. Rix as follows:--
"SEATHWAITE VICARAGE, _June 21, 1883._
DEAR SIR--I am not surprised at our topographical divisions giving a stranger difficulty. They belong to the cross kind. Thus, Dunnerdale (as it is now here usually spelled) forms an integral part of the civil division, or township, of Dunnerdale and Seathwaite, whilst ecclesiastically it is attached, not to Seathwaite, but to the ecclesiastical parish or district of Broughton-in-Furness; Seathwaite, Broughton-in-Furness, and Woodland (now all separate benefices), being so many outlying parts of the ancient ecclesiastical and civil parish of Kirkby-Ireleth. Dunnerdale itself is the name given to the district which lies on the east or Lancashire bank of the Duddon, from a point a few yards south of Ulpha bridge till it meets the boundary of Broughton proper, or the right bank of the Lickle, a small tributary of the Duddon, the main portion of it being enclosed in a little valley parallel to that of the Duddon. The fells bounding it do, on the more northern part, form a line of division from Seathwaite....
S. R. M. WALKER."] ]
XXI
"WHENCE THAT LOW VOICE?--A WHISPER FROM THE HEART"
Whence that low voice?--A whisper from the heart, That told of days long past, when here I roved With friends and kindred tenderly beloved;[FX] Some who had early mandates to depart, Yet are allowed to steal my path athwart 5 By Duddon's side; once more do we unite, Once more beneath the kind Earth's tranquil light; And smothered joys into new being start. From her unworthy seat, the cloudy stall Of Time, breaks forth triumphant Memory; 10 Her glistening tresses bound, yet light and free As golden locks of birch, that rise and fall On gales that breathe too gently to recal Aught of the fading year's inclemency![FY]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote FX: See the Fenwick note prefixed to the Duddon Sonnets.--ED.]
[Footnote FY: "If, in Sonnet VI., Wordsworth was describing the Duddon in April, the lines
Golden locks of birch, that rise and fall On gales that breathe too gently to recal Aught of the fading year's inclemency,
tell us that he was a wanderer here in October also." (H. D. Rawnsley.)]
XXII
TRADITION[FZ]
A love-lorn Maid, at some far-distant time, Came to this hidden pool, whose depths surpass In crystal clearness Dian's looking-glass; And, gazing, saw that Rose, which from the prime Derives its name, reflected as the chime 5 Of echo doth reverberate some sweet sound: The starry treasure from the blue profound She longed to ravish;--shall she plunge, or climb The humid precipice, and seize the guest Of April, smiling high in upper air? 10 Desperate alternative! what fiend could dare To prompt the thought?--Upon the steep rock's breast The lonely Primrose yet renews its bloom, Untouched memento of her hapless doom!
XXIII
SHEEP-WASHING[GA]
Sad thoughts, avaunt!--partake we their blithe cheer Who gathered in betimes the unshorn flock To wash the fleece, where haply bands of rock, Checking the stream, make a pool smooth and clear As this we look on. Distant Mountains hear,[454] 5 Hear and repeat, the turmoil that unites Clamour of boys with innocent despites Of barking dogs, and bleatings from strange fear. And what if Duddon's spotless flood receive[455] Unwelcome mixtures as the uncouth noise 10 Thickens, the pastoral River will forgive Such wrong; nor need _we_ blame the licensed joys, Though false to Nature's quiet equipoise: Frank are the sports, the stains are fugitive.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote FZ: "This tradition appears to have completely died out. I asked many old inhabitants of the place if they had ever heard such a story, but it was quite new to them.
The scene of the tragedy is not, however, very difficult to identify. There are very few 'hidden pools' in this part of the stream; it is mostly a shallow, brawling brook. I have carefully tracked the stream from Donnerdale Bridge to Ulpha Bridge, and can only find two places which at all answer to the description given in the sonnet. One of these is opposite the 'Traveller's Rest' inn, the other, is a little higher up. This latter is a deep and placid pool, situated half way down a curious corridor, known as 'Long Dub,' where the stream flows for some distance in a straight line between walls of rough mountain slate, the strata having been tilted almost at right angles to their natural position. Here a little rill tumbles into the Duddon by a miniature cascade, and the pool is sheltered and darkened by oak and beech--a not unlikely spot to have inspired the sonnet." (Herbert Rix.)]
[Footnote GA: "The pool under Ulpha Bridge has for many generations been used for sheep-washing. The sheep from Birks Farm are now (1894) washed there every year. If we suppose the poet, in one of his frequent journeys down the valley, to have paused upon the bridge to witness this pastoral sight, the local order of the Sonnets is maintained." (Herbert Rix.)]
XXIV
THE RESTING-PLACE
Mid-noon is past;--upon the sultry mead No zephyr breathes, no cloud its shadow throws: If we advance unstrengthened by repose, Farewell the solace of the vagrant reed! This Nook[GB]--with woodbine hung and straggling weed, 5 Tempting recess as ever pilgrim chose, Half grot, half arbour--proffers to enclose Body and mind, from molestation freed, In narrow compass--narrow as itself: Or if the Fancy, too industrious Elf, 10 Be loth that we should breathe awhile exempt From new incitements friendly to our task, Here[456] wants not stealthy prospect, that may tempt Loose Idless to forego her wily mask.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 454: 1845.
Sad thoughts, avaunt!--the fervour of the year, Poured on the fleece-encumbered flock, invites To laving currents, for prelusive rites Duly performed before the Dales-men shear Their panting charge. The distant Mountains hear, 1820.
]
[Footnote 455: 1845.
Meanwhile, if Duddon's spotless breast receive 1820. ]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote GB: See note to Sonnet xxvii.--ED.]
XXV
"METHINKS 'TWERE NO UNPRECEDENTED FEAT"
Methinks 'twere no unprecedented feat Should some benignant Minister of air Lift, and encircle with a cloudy chair, The One for whom my heart shall ever beat With tenderest love;--or, if a safer seat 5 Atween his downy wings be furnished, there Would lodge her, and the cherished burden bear O'er hill and valley to this dim retreat! Rough ways my steps have trod; too rough and long For her companionship; here dwells soft ease: 10 With sweets that[457] she partakes not some distaste Mingles, and lurking consciousness of wrong; Languish the flowers; the waters seem to waste Their vocal charm; their sparklings cease to please.
XXVI
"RETURN, CONTENT! FOR FONDLY I PURSUED"
Return, Content! for fondly I pursued, Even when a child, the Streams[GC]--unheard, unseen; Through tangled woods, impending rocks between; Or, free as air, with flying inquest viewed The sullen reservoirs whence their bold brood-- 5 Pure as the morning, fretful, boisterous, keen, Green as the[458] salt-sea billows, white and green-- Poured down the hills, a choral multitude! Nor have I tracked their course for scanty gains; They taught me random cares and truant joys, 10 That shield from mischief and preserve from stains Vague minds, while men are growing out of boys; Maturer Fancy owes to their rough noise Impetuous thoughts that brook not servile reins.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 456: 1837.
There ... 1820. ]
[Footnote 457: 1837.
... which ... 1820. ]
[Footnote 458: 1820.
Sparkling like ... C. ]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote GC: See note to Sonnet XXVII.--ED.]
XXVII
"FALLEN, AND DIFFUSED INTO A SHAPELESS HEAP"
Fallen, and diffused into a shapeless heap, Or quietly self-buried in earth's mould, Is that embattled House, whose massy Keep Flung from yon cliff[459] a shadow large and cold. There dwelt the gay, the bountiful, the bold; 5 Till nightly lamentations, like the sweep Of winds--though[460] winds were silent--struck a deep And lasting terror through that ancient Hold. Its line of Warriors fled;--they shrunk when tried[461] By ghostly power:--but Time's unsparing hand 10 Hath plucked such foes, like weeds, from out the land; And now, if men with men in peace abide, All other strength the weakest may withstand, All worse assaults may safely be defied.[GD]
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 459: 1819.
... height ... MS. ]
[Footnote 460: 1827.
... when ... MS. and 1819. ]
[Footnote 461: 1819.
There dwelt the rash, the bountiful, the bold, The fair, the gay; undaunted, unabased; Till supernatural visitation chased That line of warriors from their ancient hold. --Stranger they fled--their courage shrunk when tried MS. ]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote GD: Sonnet No. XXVII. having been first published in _The Waggoner_ and other poems (1819), was not reprinted in either of the editions of 1820. It was "taken from a tradition belonging to Rydal Hall," as is explained in the Fenwick note, p. 226.--ED.
"Sonnets XXIV. to XXVII. appear to have been written in one spot,--some 'Nook--with woodbine hung and straggling weed.' If the poet has strictly retained in the sonnets the order in which the places lie upon the river-bank, this nook must be within a stone's throw of the pool mentioned in the preceding note, for the scenes of Sonnets XXIX. and XXXI. are close at hand. But, though there are plenty of such 'grottos' or 'arbours' here, some difficulty arises from the fact that the Old Hall and ruined keep cannot be seen from this part of the stream, nor, indeed, can they be seen from Ulpha itself, nor from any part of the high road. The height upon which the ruin stands is certainly a prominent feature in the landscape, but the ruin itself is completely hidden by a shoulder of the hill, neither can the hill by any stretch of the imagination be called a 'cliff.'
The only point of view from which the castle appears to stand upon a 'cliff' is reached by a footpath near some copper works, about half way up Holehouse Ghyll. Here you see the ruin at the end (or rather _bend_) of the Ghyll high above your head, the sides of the ravine rising steeply to its walls. Holehouse Ghyll is thickly wooded, so that this may very possibly be the poet's 'dim retreat,' the chief objection being that the Ghyll lies below Ulpha Kirk, and that the order of the sonnets would thus be broken.
But wherever the poet's 'nook' may have been, there can be little doubt that the fragment of masonry near the farmhouse called 'The Old Hall,' represents the 'embattled house' of Sonnet XXVII., for Broughton Tower, the only other fortified house in the valley, is still some miles away, and the rising ground upon which it stands is no cliff, but a mere undulation in the centre of the nether valley. Of the Castle at the head of Holehouse Ghyll there is little enough remaining--less, even, than in Wordsworth's day, for a woman living in a cottage close by it assured me that she could remember when there was much more of it standing than at the present time. The cause to which she assigned its rapid disappearance was not, however, the same as that assigned in the first two lines of the sonnet. According to her, natural decay had less to do with it than the destructive hands of the dalesmen, who pulled the stones down to mend the fell-walls with. A native of Ulpha added that a new barn was built for the adjoining farmhouse some little time since, and that a great part of the materials doubtless came from the old ruin.
A ragged piece of wall three to four feet in thickness, with three small square windows splayed inwards, and a fireplace about 6 feet long by 12 feet high, with a wide chimney, is all that now remains _in situ_, of this seat of the Lords of Ulpha.
As to the ghostly tradition embodied in Sonnet XXVII. Wordsworth himself has explained (see the Fenwick note) that it was borrowed from Rydal Hall. But the 'Old Hall' has a weird tradition of its own, for in the bottom of the Ghyll beneath the Castle walls, there is a pool, called 'The Lady's Dub,' where in old times a lady was killed by one of the numerous wolves which formerly infested the region. This is, in fact, the origin, according to some of the inhabitants, of the name 'Ulpha' ('Wolfa'). But a more likely derivation seems to be from Ulf, the father of Ketell, the father of Bennett, the father of Allan. Ketell lived in Henry III.'s reign, and Bennett in King John's, and to their ancestor Ulf the lordship of 'Ulphay' was granted.[462]
Mr. Chattock has given an excellent etching of the ruin.
If the 'Nook' of Sonnet XXIV. be in Holehouse Ghyll, and the 'embattled House' of Sonnet XXVII. be The Old Hall seen from that spot, then Sonnet XXVI. should specially refer to the stream which rushes down that Ghyll. 'Through tangled woods' well suits this stream; and even the 'sullen reservoirs' are not wanting if the two 'dubs' at the upper end of the Ghyll are taken into account." (Herbert Rix.)]
XXVIII
JOURNEY RENEWED
I rose while yet the cattle, heat-opprest, Crowded together under rustling trees Brushed by the current of the water-breeze; And for _their_ sakes, and love of all that rest, On Duddon's margin, in the sheltering nest; 5 For all the startled scaly tribes that slink Into his coverts, and each fearless link Of dancing insects forged upon his breast; For these, and hopes and recollections worn Close to the vital seat of human clay; 10 Glad meetings, tender partings, that upstay The drooping mind of absence, by vows sworn In his pure presence near the trysting thorn-- I thanked the Leader of my onward way.
XXIX
"NO RECORD TELLS OF LANCE OPPOSED TO LANCE"
No record tells of lance opposed to lance, Horse charging horse, 'mid these retired domains; Tells that[463] their turf drank purple from the veins Of heroes, fallen, or struggling to advance, Till doubtful combat issued in a trance 5 Of victory, that struck through heart and reins Even to the inmost seat of mortal pains, And lightened o'er the pallid countenance. Yet, to the loyal and the brave, who lie In the blank earth, neglected and forlorn, 10 The passing Winds memorial tribute pay; The Torrents chant their praise, inspiring scorn Of power usurped; with proclamation high, And glad acknowledgment, of lawful sway.[GE]
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 462: Mr. J. Denton, quoted in Whellan's _History and Topography_, p. 410.]
[Footnote 463: 1827.
Nor that ... 1820. ]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote GE: "On the left or east bank of the Duddon, a little higher than Ulpha Bridge, near a farmhouse called New Close is a small enclosure, 44 feet square, with two old fir-trees and a quantity of laurels, which there can be little doubt is the scene of Sonnet XXIX.
The enclosure, known to the country people as the Sepulchre, is an old burial-place of the Society of Friends, none having been interred there since 1755, when a Friend from Birker, a small hamlet about four miles distant, was buried.[464]
The following two lines literally describe the condition of the little burial-ground:--
Yet, to the loyal and the brave, who lie In the blank earth, neglected and forlorn;--
the earth is 'blank,' because there is not a single tombstone, and the graves are (at any rate at the present time) most literally 'neglected and forlorn,' for the place is a tangle of rank grass and untrimmed bushes.
About the year 1842 it was planted with fruit-trees, but when Wordsworth saw it, it probably presented much the same appearance as at present.
The opening lines--
No record tells of lance opposed to lance, etc.,
and indeed the whole sonnet obtains a new significance from the association of the spot which it describes with the _men of peace_." (Herbert Rix.)
"There are few more touching scenes in the Duddon Valley than the little lonely hillside burial-place of the early Friends, spoken of in Sonnet XXIX. All round the inside of the rude wall enclosure are still to be seen the stone seats used by the followers of Fox, who were forbidden to hold their meetings under any lower roof than the canopy of Heaven. The Scotch firs have grown into stately shade since the Quakers sat in silent meditation high up, lifted above the life of the valley and the noise of Duddon and the tributary stream just opposite. But though the Friends lie here in unvisited graves, the earth is neither blank nor forlorn. Laurels glisten above their rest, and the _Spiræa salicifolia_ waves its light wands of flower above their sleep, all evidences of care for the heroes of a cause that is not dead yet." (H. D. Rawnsley.)]
[Footnote 464: See _Furness and Furness Abbey_, by Francis Evans (8vo, Ulverston, 1842), p. 180.]
XXX
"WHO SWERVES FROM INNOCENCE, WHO MAKES DIVORCE"
Who swerves from innocence, who makes divorce Of that serene companion--a good name, Recovers not his loss; but walks with shame, With doubt, with fear, and haply with remorse: And oft-times he--who, yielding to the force 5 Of chance-temptation, ere his journey end, From chosen comrade turns, or faithful friend-- In vain shall rue the broken intercourse. Not so with such as loosely wear the chain That binds them, pleasant River! to thy side:-- 10 Through the rough copse[GF] wheel thou with hasty stride; I choose to saunter o'er the grassy plain, Sure, when the separation has been tried, That we, who part in love, shall meet again.[GG]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote GF: "To get from the Sepulchre (Sonnet XXIX.) to Ulpha Kirk (Sonnet XXXI.) it is necessary to pass through Birks Wood, or else to skirt the wood by going up the Fell and round it." (Herbert Rix.)]
[Footnote GG: Compare the Fenwick note prefixed to these sonnets.--ED.]
XXXI
"THE KIRK OF ULPHA TO THE PILGRIM'S EYE"
The Kirk of Ulpha to the pilgrim's eye Is welcome as a star, that doth present Its shining forehead through the peaceful rent Of a black cloud diffused o'er half the sky:[GH] Or as a fruitful palm-tree towering high 5 O'er the parched waste beside an Arab's tent; Or the Indian tree whose branches, downward bent, Take root again, a boundless canopy. How sweet were leisure! could it yield no more Than 'mid that wave-washed Church-yard to recline, 10 From pastoral graves extracting thoughts divine; Or there to pace, and mark the summits hoar Of distant moon-lit mountains faintly shine, Soothed by the unseen River's gentle roar.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote GH: "Ulpha Kirk is situated on a rock, the base of which is washed by the Duddon. From time immemorial its walls have been whitewashed, so that on a sunny day it _literally_ 'shines' from its exalted position. It is best seen from the hay-fields on the left bank just above Ulpha Bridge. These fields lie low, and the church perched on its rock seems lifted higher than from any other point of view.
When I visited Ulpha in the summer of 1882 I found the carpenters at work restoring it, and since then a new belfry has been erected, and the tiny white porch has been replaced by a larger one of wood. But I saw it in 1881, when the interior, as well as the exterior, still kept the appearance which it wore in Wordsworth's day. The pulpit (with sounding-board) was in the middle of one side, and to the right hand thereof were a magnificent lion-and-unicorn, and 'G. III. R.' The font was up against the wall, with a ladder hung above it. There was no vestry; the surplice was kept in a cupboard near the door, and the clergyman donned and doffed it behind a screen which only partially hid him. The pews were square and high, and the people sat all round them, with their backs to all four points of the compass; but when the hymn was sung they all turned with their backs to the altar and their faces to the choir." (Herbert Rix.)
* * * * *
"The last line of this sonnet is a good instance of Wordsworth's very close observation. The little churchyard has lately had an addition made to it. Any one going into the new part of the churchyard will be less able to understand the accuracy of the last line." (H. D. Rawnsley.)]
XXXII
"NOT HURLED PRECIPITOUS FROM STEEP TO STEEP"
Not hurled precipitous from steep to steep; Lingering no more 'mid flower-enamelled lands And blooming thickets; nor by rocky bands Held; but in radiant progress toward the Deep Where mightiest rivers into powerless sleep 5 Sink, and forget their nature--_now_ expands Majestic Duddon, over smooth flat sands[GI] Gliding in silence with unfettered sweep! Beneath an ampler sky a region wide Is opened round him:--hamlets, towers, and towns, And blue-topped hills, behold him from afar; 11 In stately mien to sovereign Thames allied Spreading his bosom under Kentish downs, With commerce freighted, or triumphant war.[GJ]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote GI: Compare Michael Drayton--
But southward sallying hence, to those sea-bordering Lands, Where _Duddon_ driving down to the _Lancastrian_ Sands, This _Cumberland_ cuts out, etc.
_Poly-olbion_. The thirtieth song.--ED. ]
[Footnote GJ: "This sonnet was probably written from some rare vantage ground or view as is obtained of the last reaches of the Duddon
In radiant progress toward the Deep,
from the crest of a hill immediately above Broughton.
I am led to think thus from the fact that standing there the poet could speak as he does in Sonnet XXXIV.--
For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes, I see what was, and is, and will abide;
while the little Broughton Church with its dark yews close around it seen at his feet would naturally give birth to the thought that 'the elements must vanish,' and that as Duddon hurried to its pauseless sleep, so man to 'the silent tomb must go.'" (H. D. Rawnsley.)]
XXXIII
CONCLUSION
But here no cannon thunders to the gale; Upon the wave no haughty pendants cast A crimson splendour: lowly is the mast That rises here, and humbly spread, the sail; While, less disturbed than in the narrow Vale 5 Through which with strange vicissitudes he passed, The Wanderer seeks that receptacle vast Where all his unambitious functions fail. And may thy Poet, cloud-born Stream! be free-- The sweets of earth contentedly resigned, 10 And each tumultuous working left behind At seemly distance--to advance like Thee; Prepared, in peace of heart, in calm of mind And soul, to mingle with Eternity![GK]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote GK: "This series of sonnets follows with some accuracy the order of the scenes. It is far from exact to speak of them, as Mr. Chattock in his preliminary note has so emphatically done, as '_massed together_.' With the doubtful exceptions of the sonnets on the 'Stepping-Stones' and the 'Resting-Place,' each one falls naturally into its order. The Birth-place on Wrynose, the 'sinuous lapse' along the pass, the Descent into the Valley, the Cottage at Cockley Beck, Gowdrel Crag, Wallabarrow and the Pen, Seathwaite Chapel, the Tributary Stream, Long Dub, the Sepulchre at New Close, Ulpha Kirk, Duddon Sands--to all these places there are clear allusions; the sonnets which contain those allusions occur in the order indicated, and this order is the strict topographical succession proceeding from the source of the Duddon to the mouth." (Herbert Rix.)]
XXXIV
AFTER-THOUGHT
_I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide, As being past away.--Vain sympathies! For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes, I see what was, and is, and will abide; Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide;_[465][GL] 5 _The Form remains, the Function never dies; While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise, We Men, who in our morn of youth defied The elements, must vanish;--be it so! Enough, if something from our hands have power_ 10 _To live, and act, and serve the future hour; And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know._[GM]
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 465: 1820 (1st edition).
... and shall not cease to glide; 1820. (2nd edition.)
The text of 1840 returns to that of the 2nd edition of 1820.]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote GL: Compare _The Fountain_ (vol. ii. p. 92)--
'Twill murmur on a thousand years, And flow as now it flows.
And Tennyson's _Brook_,
Men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
ED. ]
[Footnote GM:
And feel that I am happier than I know.--MILTON.[466]
The allusion to the Greek poet will be obvious to the classical reader.--W. W. 1820.
I was indebted to Professor Jebb, in 1883, for the following note:--
"While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise, ... ... must vanish, ...
has been suggested by the well-known lines in the Ἐπιτάφιον Βίωνος, by the pastoral poet Moschus of Syracuse (circ. 200 B.C.):--
αἴ, αἴ, ταὶ μαλάχαι μὲν ἐπὰν κατὰ κᾶπον ὄλωνται, ἢ τὰ χλωρὰ σέλινα, τό τ' εὐθαλὲς οὖλον ἄνηθον, ὕστερον αὖ ζώοντι καὶ εἰς ἔτος ἄλλο φύοντι· _ἄμμες δ', οἱ μεγάλοι καὶ καρτεροὶ ἢ σοφοὶ ἄνδρες_, ὁππότε πρᾶτα θάνωμες, ἀνάκοοι ἐν χθονὶ κοίλᾳ εὕδομες εὖ μάλα μακρὸν ἀτέρμονα νήγρετον ὕπνον.]
(Vv. 103-108.)
You will see that Wordsworth has _translated_ the Greek verse which I underline ('brave' representing μεγάλοι). The 'mallows,' 'parsley,' 'anise' of the Greek poet's garden--which are to live again--are represented by Wordsworth's stream which 'shall for ever glide.'
One might _contrast_ the lines in the _Christian Year_ about the autumn leaves:--
How like decaying life they seem to glide! And yet no second spring have they in store, But where they fall, forgotten to abide Is all their portion, and they ask no more."
With this _Afterthought_ compare Virgil, _Georgics_ II. 458, 459--
O fortunatos nimium sua si bona norint Agricolas, etc.
ED.]
POSTSCRIPT
A poet, whose works are not yet known as they deserve to be,[GN] thus enters upon his description of the "Ruins of Rome":
The rising Sun Flames on the ruins in the purer air Towering aloft;
and ends thus--
The setting Sun displays His visible great round, between yon towers, As through two shady cliffs.
Mr. Crowe, in his excellent loco-descriptive Poem, _Lewesdon Hill_, is still more expeditious, finishing the whole on a May-morning before breakfast.
To-morrow for severer thought, but now To breakfast, and keep festival to-day.
No one believes, or is desired to believe, that these Poems were actually composed within such limits of time; nor was there any reason why a prose statement should acquaint the Reader with the plain fact, to the disturbance of poetic credibility. But, in the present case, I am compelled to mention, that the above series of Sonnets was the growth of many years;--the one which stands the 14th was the first produced; and others were added upon occasional visits to the Stream, or as recollections of the scenes upon its banks awakened a wish to describe them. In this manner I had proceeded insensibly, without perceiving that I was trespassing upon ground preoccupied, at least as far as intention went, by Mr. Coleridge; who, more than twenty years ago, used to speak of writing a rural Poem, to be entitled "The Brook," of which he has given a sketch in a recent publication. But a particular subject, cannot, I think, much interfere with a general one; and I have been further kept from encroaching upon any right Mr. C. may still wish to exercise, by the restriction which the frame of the Sonnet imposed upon me, narrowing unavoidably the range of thought, and precluding, though not without its advantages, many graces to which a freer movement of verse would naturally have led.
May I not venture, then, to hope, that instead of being a hindrance, by anticipation of any part of the subject, these Sonnets may remind Mr. Coleridge of his own more comprehensive design, and induce him to fulfil it?[GO]----There is a sympathy in streams,--"one calleth to another"; and, I would gladly believe, that "The Brook" will, ere long, murmur in concert with "The Duddon." But, asking pardon for this fancy, I need not scruple to say, that those verses must indeed be ill-fated which can enter upon such pleasant walks of nature, without receiving and giving inspiration. The power of waters over the minds of Poets has been acknowledged from the earliest ages;--through the "Flumina amem sylvasque inglorius" of Virgil,[GP] down to the sublime apostrophe to the great rivers of the earth, by Armstrong,[GQ] and the simple ejaculation of Burns,[GR] (chosen, if I recollect right, by Mr. Coleridge, as a motto for his embryo "Brook"),
The Muse, nae poet ever fand her, Till by himsel' he learned to wander, Adown some trotting burn's meander, AND NO THINK LANG.
W. W. 1820.
As an illustration of the extraordinary freaks of contemporary criticism--freaks which still tarnish much that issues from the press--an estimate of those Duddon Sonnets, which appeared in _The Monthly Review_ in 1820, may be referred to. All that posterity now admires in this exquisite series of descriptive poems is decried; and those passages which posterity regards as blemishes, are held up to admiration; _e.g._ the lines with which the tenth sonnet, in "The Stepping-Stones," concludes, which are so frigid and affected, were hailed as "a complete return into the regions of antiquity," and as a sign that "Mr. Wordsworth is certainly improving"! They are the very feeble lines:--
The frolic Loves, who, from yon high rock, see The struggle, clap their wings for victory!
while the
... unculled floweret of the glen, Fearless of plough and scythe; or darkling wren That tunes on Duddon's banks her slender voice,
is held up to ridicule!--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 466: _Paradise Lost_, book viii. l. 282.--ED.]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote GN: John Dyer. _The Ruins of Rome_, 4to, London, 1740. Compare Wordsworth's lines _To the Poet, John Dyer_, vol. iv. p. 273.--ED.]
[Footnote GO: Compare p. 302, "Why is the Harp of Quantock silent?"--ED.]
[Footnote GP: See _Georgics_ II. 486.--ED.]
[Footnote GQ: Armstrong's "apostrophe to the great rivers of the earth" is in his _Art of Preserving Health_ (book ii. ll. 355-364)--
... I hear the din Of waters thund'ring o'er the ruined cliffs. With holy reverence I approach the rocks Whence glide the streams renowned in ancient song. Here from the desert down the rumbling steep First springs the Nile; here vents the sounding Po In angry waves; Euphrates hence devolves A mighty flood to water half the East; And there, in Gothic solitude reclined, The cheerless Tanais pours his hoary urn.
ED. ]
[Footnote GR: From his _Epistle to William Simpson, Ochiltree_; stanza 15.--ED.]
NOTE TO SONNETS XVII AND XVIII
The EAGLE requires a large domain for its support; but several pairs, not many years ago, were constantly resident in this country, building their nests in the steeps of Borrowdale, Wastdale, Ennerdale, and on the eastern side of Helvellyn. Often have I heard anglers speak of the grandeur of their appearance, as they hovered over Red Tarn, in one of the coves of this mountain. The bird frequently returns, but is always destroyed. Not long since one visited Rydal Lake, and remained some hours near its banks; the consternation which it occasioned among the different species of fowl, particularly the herons, was expressed by loud screams. The horse also is naturally afraid of the eagle.--There were several Roman stations among these mountains; the most considerable seems to have been in a meadow at the head of Windermere, established, undoubtedly, as a check over the passes of Kirkstone, Dunmail-raise, and of Hardknot and Wrynose. On the margin of Rydal Lake, a coin of Trajan was discovered very lately.--The ROMAN FORT here alluded to, called by the country people "_Hardknot Castle_," is most impressively situated half-way down the hill on the right of the road that descends from Hardknot into Eskdale. It has escaped the notice of most antiquarians, and is but slightly mentioned by Lysons.--The DRUIDICAL CIRCLE is about half a mile to the left of the road ascending Stone-side from the vale of Duddon: the country people call it "_Sunken Church_."
The reader who may have been interested in the foregoing Sonnets (which together may be considered as a Poem) will not be displeased to find in this place a prose account of the Duddon, extracted from Green's comprehensive _Guide to the Lakes_, lately published. "The road leading from Coniston to Broughton is over high ground, and commands a view of the river Duddon; which at high water is a grand sight, having the beautiful and fertile lands of Lancashire and Cumberland stretching each way from its margin. In this extensive view, the face of nature is displayed in a wonderful variety of hill and dale; wooded grounds and buildings; amongst the latter, Broughton Tower, seated on the crown of a hill, rising elegantly from the valley, is an object of extraordinary interest. Fertility on each side is gradually diminished, and lost in the superior heights of Blackcomb, in Cumberland, and the high lands between Kirkby and Ulverstone.
"The road from Broughton to Seathwaite is on the banks of the Duddon, and on its Lancashire side it is of various elevations. The river is an amusing companion, one while brawling and tumbling over rocky precipices, until the agitated water becomes again calm by arriving at a smoother and less precipitous bed, but its course is soon again ruffled, and the current thrown into every variety of form which the rocky channel of a river can give to water." (_Vide_ Green's _Guide to the Lakes_, vol. i. pp. 98-100.)
After all, the traveller would be most gratified who should approach this beautiful Stream, neither at its source, as is done in the Sonnets, nor from its termination; but from Coniston over Walna Scar; first descending into a little circular valley, a collateral compartment of the long winding vale through which flows the Duddon. This recess, towards the close of September, when the after-grass of the meadows is still of a fresh green, with the leaves of many of the trees faded, but perhaps none fallen, is truly enchanting. At a point elevated enough to show the various objects in the valley, and not so high as to diminish their importance, the stranger will instinctively halt. On the foreground, a little below the most favourable station, a rude foot-bridge is thrown over the bed of the noisy brook, foaming by the wayside. Russet and craggy hills, of bold and varied outline, surround the level valley which is besprinkled with grey rocks plumed with birch trees. A few homesteads are interspersed in some places, peeping out from among the rocks like hermitages, whose site has been chosen for the benefit of sunshine as well as shelter; in other instances, the dwelling-house, barn, and byre, compose together a cruciform structure, which, with its embowering trees and the ivy clothing part of the walls and roof, like a fleece, call to mind the remains of an ancient abbey. Time, in most cases, and nature every where, have given a sanctity to the humble works of man, that are scattered over this peaceful retirement. Hence a harmony of tone and colour, a consummation and perfection of beauty, which would have been marred had aim or purpose interfered with the course of convenience, utility, or necessity. This unvitiated region stands in no need of the veil of twilight to soften or disguise its features. As it glistens in the morning sunshine, it would fill the spectator's heart with gladsomeness. Looking from our chosen station, he would feel an impatience to rove among its pathways, to be greeted by the milkmaid, to wander from house to house, exchanging "good-morrows" as he passed the open doors; but, at evening, when the sun is set, and a pearly light gleams from the western quarter of the sky, with an answering light from the smooth surface of the meadows; when the trees are dusky, but each kind still distinguishable; when the cool air has condensed the blue smoke rising from the cottage-chimneys; when the dark mossy stones seem to sleep in the bed of the foaming Brook; _then_, he would be unwilling to move forward, not less from a reluctance to relinquish what he beholds, than from an apprehension of disturbing, by his approach, the quietness beneath him. Issuing from the plain of this valley, the Brook descends in a rapid torrent, passing by the churchyard of Seathwaite. The traveller is thus conducted at once into the midst of the wild and beautiful scenery which gave occasion to the Sonnets from the 14th to the 20th inclusive. From the point where the Seathwaite Brook joins the Duddon, is a view upwards, into the pass through which the River makes its way into the Plain of Donnerdale. The perpendicular rock on the right bears the ancient British name of THE PEN; the one opposite is called WALLA-BARROW CRAG, a name that occurs in several places to designate rocks of the same character. The _chaotic_ aspect of the scene is well marked by the expression of a stranger, who strolled out while dinner was preparing, and, at his return, being asked by his host, "What way he had been wandering?" replied, "As far as it is _finished_!"
The bed of the Duddon is here strewn with large fragments of rock fallen from aloft; which, as Mr. Green truly says, "are happily adapted to the many-shaped waterfalls," (or rather water-breaks, for none of them are high,) "displayed in the short space of half a mile." That there is some hazard in frequenting these desolate places, I myself have had proof; for one night an immense mass of rock fell upon the very spot where, with a friend, I had lingered the day before. "The concussion," says Mr. Green, speaking of the event, (for he also, in the practice of his art, on that day sat exposed for a still longer time to the same peril,) "was heard, not without alarm, by the neighbouring shepherds." But to return to Seathwaite Churchyard: it contains the following inscription:--
"In memory of the Reverend Robert Walker, who died the 25th of June, 1802, in the 93d year of his age, and 67th of his curacy at Seathwaite.
"Also, of Anne his wife, who died the 28th of January, in the 93d year of her age."
In the parish-register of Seathwaite Chapel, is this notice:
"Buried, June 28th, the Rev. Robert Walker. He was curate of Seathwaite sixty-six years. He was a man singular for his temperance, industry, and integrity."
This individual is the Pastor alluded to, in the eighteenth Sonnet, as a worthy compeer of the Country Parson of Chaucer, etc. In the seventh book of _The Excursion_, an abstract of his character is given, beginning--
A Priest abides before whose life such doubts Fall to the ground;--
and some account of his life,[GS] for it is worthy of being recorded, will not be out of place here.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote GS: 1827. An abstract of his character is given in the author's poem of _The Excursion_; and some account of his life.--W. W. 1820.]
MEMOIR OF THE REV. ROBERT WALKER
In the year 1709, Robert Walker was born at Under-crag, in Seathwaite; he was the youngest of twelve children. His eldest brother, who inherited the small family estate, died at Under-crag, aged ninety-four, being twenty-four years older than the subject of this Memoir, who was born of the same mother. Robert was a sickly infant; and, through his boyhood and youth continuing to be of delicate frame and tender health, it was deemed best, according to the country phrase, to _breed him a scholar_; for it was not likely that he would be able to earn a livelihood by bodily labour. At that period few of these dales were furnished with school-houses; the children being taught to read and write in the chapel; and in the same consecrated building, where he officiated for so many years both as preacher and schoolmaster, he himself received the rudiments of his education. In his youth he became schoolmaster at Loweswater; not being called upon, probably, in that situation, to teach more than reading, writing, and arithmetic. But, by the assistance of a "Gentleman" in the neighbourhood, he acquired, at leisure hours, a knowledge of the classics, and became qualified for taking holy orders. Upon his ordination, he had the offer of two curacies: the one, Torver, in the vale of Coniston,--the other, Seathwaite, in his native vale. The value of each was the same, _viz._ five pounds _per annum_: but the cure of Seathwaite having a cottage attached to it, as he wished to marry, he chose it in preference. The young person on whom his affections were fixed, though in the condition of a domestic servant, had given promise, by her serious and modest deportment, and by her virtuous dispositions, that she was worthy to become the helpmate of a man entering upon a plan of life such as he had marked out for himself. By her frugality she had stored up a small sum of money, with which they began housekeeping. In 1735 or 1736, he entered upon his curacy; and nineteen years afterwards, his situation is thus described, in some letters to be found in the Annual Register for 1760, from which the following is extracted:
To Mr. ----.
"CONISTON, _July_ 26, 1754.
"SIR,
"I was the other day upon a party of pleasure, about five or six miles from this place, where I met with a very striking object, and of a nature not very common. Going into a clergyman's house (of whom I had frequently heard), I found him sitting at the head of a long square table, such as is commonly used in this country by the lower class of people, dressed in a coarse blue frock, trimmed with black horn buttons; a checked shirt, a leathern strap about his neck for a stock, a coarse apron, and a pair of great wooden-soled shoes plated with iron to preserve them (what we call clogs in these parts), with a child upon his knee, eating his breakfast; his wife, and the remainder of his children, were some of them employed in waiting upon each other, the rest in teazing and spinning wool, at which trade he is a great proficient; and moreover, when it is made ready for sale, will lay it, by sixteen or thirty-two pounds' weight, upon his back, and on foot, seven or eight miles, will carry it to the market, even in the depth of winter. I was not much surprised at all this, as you may possibly be, having heard a great deal of it related before. But I must confess myself astonished with the alacrity and the good humour that appeared both in the clergyman and his wife, and more so at the sense and ingenuity of the clergyman himself." ...
Then follows a letter from another person, dated 1755, from which an extract shall be given.
"By his frugality and good management, he keeps the wolf from the door, as we say; and if he advances a little in the world, it is owing more to his own care, than to anything else he has to rely upon. I don't find his inclination is running after further preferment. He is settled among the people, that are happy among themselves; and lives in the greatest unanimity and friendship with them; and, I believe, the minister and people are exceedingly satisfied with each other; and indeed how should they be dissatisfied when they have a person of so much worth and probity for their pastor? A man who, for his candour and meekness, his sober, chaste, and virtuous conversation, his soundness in principle and practice, is an ornament to his profession, and an honour to the country he is in; and bear with me if I say, the plainness of his dress, the sanctity of his manners, the simplicity of his doctrine, and the vehemence of his expression, have a sort of resemblance to the pure practice of primitive Christianity."
We will now give his own account of himself, to be found in the same place.
From the Rev. ROBERT WALKER.
"SIR,--Yours of the 26th instant was communicated to me by Mr. C----, and I should have returned an immediate answer, but the hand of Providence, then laying[GT] heavy upon an amiable pledge of conjugal endearment, hath since taken from me a promising girl, which the disconsolate mother too pensively laments the loss of; though we have yet eight living, all healthful, hopeful children, whose names and ages are as follows:--Zaccheus, aged almost eighteen years; Elizabeth, sixteen years and ten months; Mary, fifteen; Moses, thirteen years and three months; Sarah, ten years and three months; Mabel, eight years and three months; William Tyson, three years and eight months; and Anne Esther, one year and three months; besides Anne, who died two years and six months ago, and was then aged between nine and ten; and Eleanor, who died the 23d inst., January, aged six years and ten months. Zaccheus, the eldest child, is now learning the trade of a tanner, and has two years and a half of his apprenticeship to serve. The annual income of my chapel at present, as near as I can compute it, may amount to about £17, of which is paid in cash, viz., £5 from the bounty of Queen Anne, and £5 from W. P., Esq., of P----, out of the annual rents, he being lord of the manor, and £3 from the several inhabitants of L----, settled upon the tenements as a rent-charge; the house and gardens I value at £4 yearly, and not worth more; and I believe the surplice fees and voluntary contributions, one year with another, may be worth £3; but as the inhabitants are few in number, and the fees very low, this last-mentioned sum consists merely in freewill offerings.
"I am situated greatly to my satisfaction with regard to the conduct and behaviour of my auditory, who not only live in the happy ignorance of the follies and vices of the age, but in mutual peace and goodwill with one another, and are seemingly (I hope really too) sincere Christians, and sound members of the Established Church, not one dissenter of any denomination being amongst them all. I got to the value of £40 for my wife's fortune, but had no real estate of my own, being the youngest son of twelve children, born of obscure parents; and, though my income has been but small, and my family large, yet, by a providential blessing upon my own diligent endeavours, the kindness of friends, and a cheap country to live in, we have always had the necessaries of life. By what I have written (which is a true and exact account to the best of my knowledge,) I hope you will not think your favour to me, out of the late worthy Dr. Stratford's effects, quite misbestowed, for which I must ever gratefully own myself, Sir, your much obliged and most obedient humble Servant,
"R. W., Curate of S----,
"To Mr. C., of Lancaster."
About the time when this letter was written, the Bishop of Chester recommended the scheme of joining the curacy of Ulpha to the contiguous one of Seathwaite, and the nomination was offered to Mr. Walker; but an unexpected difficulty arising, Mr. W., in a letter to the Bishop, (a copy of which, in his own beautiful handwriting, now lies before me,) thus expresses himself. "If he," meaning the person in whom the difficulty originated, "had suggested any such objection before, I should utterly have declined any attempt to the curacy of Ulpha: indeed, I was always apprehensive it might be disagreeable to my auditory at Seathwaite, as they have been always accustomed to double duty, and the inhabitants of Ulpha despair of being able to support a schoolmaster who is not curate there also; which suppressed all thoughts in me of serving them both." And in a second letter to the Bishop he writes:--
"MY LORD,--I have the favour of yours of the 1st instant, and am exceedingly obliged on account of the Ulpha affair: if that curacy should lapse into your Lordship's hands, I would beg leave rather to decline than embrace it; for the chapels of Seathwaite and Ulpha, annexed together, would be apt to cause a general discontent among the inhabitants of both places; by either thinking themselves slighted, being only served alternately, or neglected in the duty, or attributing it to covetousness in me; all which occasions of murmuring I would willingly avoid." And in concluding his former letter, he expresses a similar sentiment upon the same occasion, "desiring, if it be possible, however, as much as in me lieth, to live peaceably with all men."
The year following, the curacy of Seathwaite was again augmented; and, to effect this augmentation, fifty pounds had been advanced by himself; and, in 1760, lands were purchased with eight hundred pounds. Scanty as was his income, the frequent offer of much better benefices could not tempt Mr. W. to quit a situation where he had been so long happy, with a consciousness of being useful. Among his papers I find the following copy of a letter, dated 1775, twenty years after his refusal of the curacy of Ulpha, which will show what exertions had been made for one of his sons.
"MAY IT PLEASE YOUR GRACE,--Our remote situation here makes it difficult to get the necessary information for transacting business regularly; such is the reason of my giving your Grace the present trouble.
"The bearer (my son) is desirous of offering himself candidate for deacon's orders at your Grace's ensuing ordination; the first, on the 25th instant, so that his papers could not be transmitted in due time. As he is now fully at age, and I have afforded him education to the utmost of my ability, it would give me great satisfaction (if your Grace would take him, and find him qualified) to have him ordained. His constitution has been tender for some years; he entered the college of Dublin, but his health would not permit him to continue there, or I would have supported him much longer. He has been with me at home above a year, in which time he has gained great strength of body, sufficient, I hope, to enable him for performing the function. Divine Providence, assisted by liberal benefactors, has blest my endeavours, from a small income, to rear a numerous family; and as my time of life renders me now unfit for much future expectancy from this world, I should be glad to see my son settled in a promising way to acquire an honest livelihood for himself. His behaviour, so far in life, has been irreproachable; and I hope he will not degenerate, in principles or practice, from the precepts and pattern of an indulgent parent. Your Grace's favourable reception of this, from a distant corner of the diocese, and an obscure hand, will excite filial gratitude, and a due use shall be made of the obligation vouchsafed thereby to Your Grace's very dutiful and most obedient Son and Servant,
ROBERT WALKER."
The same man, who was thus liberal in the education of his numerous family, was even munificent in his hospitality as a parish priest. Every Sunday, were served, upon the long table, at which he has been described sitting with a child upon his knee, messes of broth, for the refreshment of those of his congregation who came from a distance, and usually took their seats as parts of his own household. It seems scarcely possible that this custom could have commenced before the augmentation of his cure; and what would to many have been a high price of self-denial, was paid, by the pastor and his family, for this gratification; as the treat could only be provided by dressing at one time the whole, perhaps, of their weekly allowance of fresh animal food; consequently, for a succession of days, the table was covered with cold victuals only. His generosity in old age may be still further illustrated by a little circumstance relating to an orphan grandson, then ten years of age, which I find in a copy of a letter to one of his sons; he requests that half-a-guinea may be left for "little Robert's pocket-money," who was then at school: intrusting it to the care of a lady, who, as he says, "may sometimes frustrate his squandering it away foolishly," and promising to send him an equal allowance annually for the same purpose. The conclusion of the same letter is so characteristic, that I cannot forbear to transcribe it. "We," meaning his wife and himself, "are in our wonted state of health, allowing for the hasty strides of old age knocking daily at our door, and threateningly telling us, we are not only mortal, but must expect ere long to take our leave of our ancient cottage, and lie down in our last dormitory. Pray pardon my neglect to answer yours; let us hear sooner from you, to augment the mirth of the Christmas holidays. Wishing you all the pleasures of the approaching season, I am, dear Son, with lasting sincerity, yours affectionately,
"ROBERT WALKER."
He loved old customs and usages, and in some instances stuck to them to his own loss; for, having had a sum of money lodged in the hands of a neighbouring tradesman, when long course of time had raised the rate of interest, and more was offered, he refused to accept it; an act not difficult to one, who, while he was drawing seventeen pounds a year from his curacy, declined, as we have seen, to add the profits of another small benefice to his own, lest he should be suspected of cupidity. From this vice he was utterly free; he made no charge for teaching school; such as could afford to pay, gave him what they pleased. When very young, having kept a diary of his expenses, however trifling, the large amount, at the end of the year, surprised him; and from that time the rule of his life was to be economical, not avaricious. At his decease he left behind him no less a sum than _£_2000; and such a sense of his various excellencies was prevalent in the country, that the epithet of WONDERFUL is to this day attached to his name.
There is in the above sketch something so extraordinary as to require further _explanatory_ details.--And to begin with his industry; eight hours in each day, during five days in the week, and half of Saturday, except when the labours of husbandry were urgent, he was occupied in teaching. His seat was within the rails of the altar; the communion-table was his desk; and, like Shenstone's schoolmistress, the master employed himself at the spinning-wheel, while the children were repeating their lessons by his side. Every evening, after school hours, if not more profitably engaged, he continued the same kind of labour, exchanging, for the benefit of exercise, the small wheel, at which he had sate, for the large one on which wool is spun, the spinner stepping to and fro. Thus, was the wheel constantly in readiness to prevent the waste of a moment's time. Nor was his industry with the pen, when occasion called for it, less eager. Intrusted with extensive management of public and private affairs, he acted, in his rustic neighbourhood, as scrivener, writing out petitions, deeds of conveyance, wills, covenants, etc., with pecuniary gain to himself, and to the great benefit of his employers. These labours (at all times considerable) at one period of the year, viz., between Christmas and Candlemas, when money transactions are settled in this country, were often so intense, that he passed great part of the night, and sometimes whole nights, at his desk. His garden also was tilled by his own hand; he had a right of pasturage upon the mountains for a few sheep and a couple of cows, which required his attendance; with this pastoral occupation, he joined the labours of husbandry upon a small scale, renting two or three acres in addition to his own less than one acre of glebe; and the humblest drudgery which the cultivation of these fields required was performed by himself.
He also assisted his neighbours in haymaking and shearing their flocks, and in the performance of this latter service he was eminently dexterous. They, in their turn, complimented him with the present of a haycock, or a fleece; less as a recompense for this particular service than as a general acknowledgment. The Sabbath was in a strict sense kept holy; the Sunday evenings being devoted to reading the Scripture and family prayer. The principal festivals appointed by the Church were also duly observed; but through every other day in the week, through every week in the year he was incessantly occupied in work of hand or mind; not allowing a moment for recreation, except upon a Saturday afternoon, when he indulged himself with a Newspaper, or sometimes with a Magazine. The frugality and temperance established in his house, were as admirable as the industry. Nothing to which the name of luxury could be given was there known; in the latter part of his life, indeed, when tea had been brought into almost general use, it was provided for visitors, and for such of his own family as returned occasionally to his roof, and had been accustomed to this refreshment elsewhere; but neither he nor his wife ever partook of it. The raiment worn by his family was comely and decent, but as simple as their diet; the home-spun materials were made up into apparel by their own hands. At the time of the decease of this thrifty pair, their cottage contained a large store of webs of woollen and linen cloth, woven from thread of their own spinning. And it is remarkable that the pew in the chapel in which the family used to sit, remains neatly lined with woollen cloth spun by the pastor's own hands. It is the only pew in the chapel so distinguished; and I know of no other instance of his conformity to the delicate accommodations of modern times. The fuel of the house, like that of their neighbours, consisted of peat, procured from the mosses by their own labour. The lights by which, in the winter evenings, their work was performed, were of their own manufacture, such as still continue to be used in these cottages; they are made of the pith of rushes dipped in any unctuous substance that the house affords. _White_ candles, as tallow candles are here called, were reserved to honour the Christmas festivals, and were perhaps produced upon no other occasions. Once a month, during the proper season, a sheep was drawn from their small mountain flock, and killed for the use of the family; and a cow, towards the close of the year, was salted and dried for winter provision: the hide was tanned to furnish them with shoes.--By these various resources, this venerable clergyman reared a numerous family, not only preserving them, as he affectingly says, "from wanting the necessaries of life"; but affording them an unstinted education, and the means of raising themselves in society. In this they were eminently assisted by the effects of their father's example, his precepts, and injunctions: he was aware that truth-speaking, as a moral virtue, is best secured by inculcating attention to accuracy of report even on trivial occasions; and so rigid were the rules of honesty by which he endeavoured to bring up his family, that if one of them had chanced to find in the lanes or fields anything of the least use or value without being able to ascertain to whom it belonged, he always insisted upon the child's carrying it back to the place from which it had been brought.[GU]
No one it might be thought could, as has been described, convert his body into a machine, as it were, of industry for the humblest uses, and keep his thoughts so frequently bent upon secular concerns, without grievous injury to the more precious parts of his nature. How could the powers of intellect thrive, or its graces be displayed, in the midst of circumstances apparently so unfavourable, and where, to the direct cultivation of the mind, so small a portion of time was allotted? But, in this extraordinary man, things in their nature adverse were reconciled. His conversation was remarkable, not only for being chaste and pure, but for the degree in which it was fervent and eloquent; his written style was correct, simple, and animated. Nor did his _affections_ suffer more than his intellect; he was tenderly alive to all the duties of his pastoral office: the poor and needy "he never sent empty away," the stranger was fed and refreshed in passing that unfrequented vale,--the sick were visited; and the feelings of humanity found further exercise among the distresses and embarrassments in the worldly estate of his neighbours, with which his talents for business made him acquainted; and the disinterestedness, impartiality, and uprightness which he maintained in the management of all affairs confided to him, were virtues seldom separated in his own conscience from religious obligation. Nor could such conduct fail to remind those who witnessed it of a spirit nobler than law or custom: they felt convictions which, but for such intercourse, could not have been afforded, that, as in the practice of their pastor, there was no guile, so in his faith there was nothing hollow; and we are warranted in believing, that upon these occasions, selfishness, obstinacy, and discord would often give way before the breathings of his goodwill and saintly integrity. It may be presumed also--while his humble congregation were listening to the moral precepts which he delivered from the pulpit, and to the Christian exhortations that they should love their neighbours as themselves, and do as they would be done unto--that peculiar efficacy was given to the preacher's labours by recollections in the minds of his congregation, that they were called upon to do no more than his own actions were daily setting before their eyes.
The afternoon service in the chapel was less numerously attended than that of the morning, but by a more serious auditory; the lesson from the New Testament, on those occasions, was accompanied by Burkitt's Commentaries. These lessons he read with impassioned emphasis, frequently drawing tears from his hearers, and leaving a lasting impression upon their minds. His devotional feelings and the powers of his own mind were further exercised, along with those of his family, in perusing the Scriptures: not only on the Sunday evenings, but on every other evening, while the rest of the household were at work, some one of the children, and in her turn the servant, for the sake of practice in reading, or for instruction, read the Bible aloud; and in this manner the whole was repeatedly gone through. That no common importance was attached to the observance of religious ordinances by his family, appears from the following memorandum by one of his descendants, which I am tempted to insert at length, as it is characteristic, and somewhat curious. "There is a small chapel in the county palatine of Lancaster, where a certain clergyman has regularly officiated above sixty years, and a few months ago administered the sacrament of the Lord's Supper in the same, to a decent number of devout communicants. After the clergyman had received himself, the first company out of the assembly who approached the altar, and kneeled down to be partakers of the sacred elements, consisted of the parson's wife, to whom he had been married upwards of sixty years; one son and his wife; four daughters, each with her husband; whose ages, all added together, amount to above 714 years. The several and respective distances from the place of each of their abodes, to the chapel where they all communicated, will measure more than 1000 English miles. Though the narration will appear surprising, it is without doubt a fact that the same persons, exactly four years before, met at the same place, and all joined in performance of the same venerable duty."
He was indeed most zealously attached to the doctrine and frame of the Established Church. We have seen him congratulating himself that he had no dissenters in his cure of any denomination. Some allowance must be made for the state of opinion when his first religious impressions were received, before the reader will acquit him of bigotry, when I mention, that at the time of the augmentation of the cure, he refused to invest part of the money in the purchase of an estate offered to him upon advantageous terms, because the proprietor was a Quaker;--whether from scrupulous apprehension that a blessing would not attend a contract framed for the benefit of the church between persons not in religious sympathy with each other; or, as a seeker of peace, he was afraid of the uncomplying disposition which at one time was too frequently conspicuous in that sect. Of this an instance had fallen under his own notice; for, while he taught school at Loweswater, certain persons of that denomination had refused to pay annual interest due[GV] under the title of Church-stock;[GW] a great hardship upon the incumbent, for the curacy of Loweswater was then scarcely less poor than that of Seathwaite. To what degree this prejudice of his was blameable need not be determined;--certain it is, that he was not only desirous, as he himself says, to live in peace, but in love, with all men. He was placable, and charitable in his judgments; and, however correct in conduct and rigorous to himself, he was ever ready to forgive the trespasses of others, and to soften the censure that was cast upon their frailties.--It would be unpardonable to omit that, in the maintenance of his virtues, he received due support from the partner of his long life. She was equally strict, in attending to her share of their joint cares, nor less diligent in her appropriate occupations. A person who had been some time their servant in the latter part of their lives, concluded the panegyric of her mistress by saying to me, "She was no less excellent than her husband; she was good to the poor, she was good to every thing!" He survived for a short time this virtuous companion. When she died, he ordered that her body should be borne to the grave by three of her daughters and one grand-daughter; and, when the corpse was lifted from the threshold, he insisted upon lending his aid, and feeling about, for he was then almost blind, took hold of a napkin fixed to the coffin; and, as a bearer of the body, entered the chapel, a few steps from the lowly parsonage.
What a contrast does the life of this obscurely-seated, and, in point of worldly wealth, poorly-repaid Churchman, present to that of a Cardinal Wolsey!
O, 'tis a burthen, Cromwell, 'tis a burthen Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven![GX]
We have been dwelling upon images of peace in the moral world, that have brought us again to the quiet enclosure of consecrated ground, in which this venerable pair lie interred. The sounding brook, that rolls close by the churchyard, without disturbing feeling or meditation, is now unfortunately laid bare; but not long ago it participated, with the chapel, the shade of some stately ash-trees, which will not spring again. While the spectator from this spot is looking round upon the girdle of stony mountains that encompasses the vale,--masses of rock, out of which monuments for all men that ever existed might have been hewn--it would surprise him to be told, as with truth he might be, that the plain blue slab dedicated to the memory of this aged pair is a production of a quarry in North Wales. It was sent as a mark of respect by one of their descendants from the vale of Festiniog, a region almost as beautiful as that in which it now lies!
Upon the Seathwaite Brook, at a small distance from the parsonage, has been erected a mill for spinning yarn; it is a mean and disagreeable object, though not unimportant to the spectator, as calling to mind the momentous changes wrought by such inventions in the frame of society--changes which have proved especially unfavourable to these mountain solitudes. So much had been effected by those new powers, before the subject of the preceding biographical sketch closed his life, that their operation could not escape his notice, and doubtless excited touching reflections upon the comparatively insignificant results of his own manual industry. But Robert Walker was not a man of times and circumstances: had he lived at a later period, the principle of duty would have produced application as unremitting; the same energy of character would have been displayed, though in many instances with widely different effects.
With pleasure I annex, as illustrative and confirmatory of the above account, extracts from a paper in the _Christian Remembrancer_, October 1819: it bears an assumed signature, but is known to be the work of the Rev. Robert Bamford, vicar of Bishopton, in the county of Durham; a great-grandson of Mr. Walker, whose worth it commemorates, by a record not the less valuable for being written in very early youth.
"His house was a nursery of virtue. All the inmates were industrious, and cleanly, and happy. Sobriety, neatness, quietness, characterised the whole family. No railings, no idleness, no indulgence of passion were permitted. Every child, however young, had its appointed engagements; every hand was busy. Knitting, spinning, reading, writing, mending clothes, making shoes, were by the different children constantly performing. The father himself sitting amongst them, and guiding their thoughts, was engaged in the same occupations....
"He sate up late, and rose early; when the family were at rest, he retired to a little room which he had built on the roof of his house. He had slated it, and fitted it up with shelves for his books, his stock of cloth, wearing apparel, and his utensils. There many a cold winter's night, without fire, while the roof was glazed with ice, did he remain reading or writing, till the day dawned. He taught the children in the chapel, for there was no schoolhouse. Yet in that cold, damp place he never had a fire. He used to send the children in parties either to his own fire at home, or make them run up the mountain side.
* * * * *
"It may be further mentioned, that he was a passionate admirer of Nature; she was his mother, and he was a dutiful child. While engaged on the mountains, it was his greatest pleasure to view the rising sun; and in tranquil evenings, as it slided behind the hills, he blessed its departure. He was skilled in fossils and plants; a constant observer of the stars and winds: the atmosphere was his delight. He made many experiments on its nature and properties. In summer he used to gather a multitude of flies and insects, and, by his entertaining description, amuse and instruct his children. They shared all his daily employments, and derived many sentiments of love and benevolence from his observations on the works and productions of nature. Whether they were following him in the field, or surrounding him in school, he took every opportunity of storing their minds with useful information.--Nor was the circle of his influence confined to Seathwaite. Many a distant mother has told her child of Mr. Walker, and begged him to be as good a man.
* * * * *
"Once, when I was very young, I had the pleasure of seeing and hearing that venerable old man in his 90th year, and even then, the calmness, the force, the perspicuity of his sermon, sanctified and adorned by the wisdom of grey hairs, and the authority of virtue, had such an effect upon my mind, that I never see a hoary-headed clergyman, without thinking of Mr. Walker.... He allowed no dissenter or methodist to interfere in the instruction of the souls committed to his cure: and so successful were his exertions, that he had not one dissenter of any denomination whatever in the whole parish. Though he avoided all religious controversies, yet when age had silvered his head, and virtuous piety had secured to his appearance reverence and silent honour, no one, however determined in his hatred of apostolic descent, could have listened to his discourse on ecclesiastical history and ancient times, without thinking, that one of the beloved apostles had returned to mortality, and in that vale of peace had come to exemplify the beauty of holiness in the life and character of Mr. Walker.
* * * * *
"Until the sickness of his wife, a few months previous to her death, his health and spirits and faculties were unimpaired. But this misfortune gave him such a shock, that his constitution gradually decayed. His senses, except sight, still preserved their powers. He never preached with steadiness after his wife's death. His voice faltered: he always looked at the seat she had used. He could not pass her tomb without tears. He became, when alone, sad and melancholy, though still among his friends kind and good-humoured. He went to bed about twelve o'clock the night before his death. As his custom was, he went, tottering and leaning upon his daughter's arm, to examine the heavens, and meditate a few moments in the open air. 'How clear the moon shines to-night!' He said these words, sighed, and laid down. At six next morning he was found a corpse. Many a tear, and many a heavy heart, and many a grateful blessing followed him to the grave."[GY]
Having mentioned in this narrative the vale of Loweswater as a place where Mr. Walker taught school, I will add a few memoranda from its parish register, respecting a person apparently of desires as moderate, with whom he must have been intimate during his residence there.
"Let him that would, ascend the tottering seat Of courtly grandeur, and become as great As are his mounting wishes; but for me, Let sweet repose and rest my portion be.
HENRY FOREST, Curate."
"Honour, the idol which the most adore, Receives no homage from my knee; Content in privacy I value more Than all uneasy dignity."
"Henry Forest came to Loweswater, 1708, being twenty-five years of age."
"This curacy was twice augmented by Queen Anne's Bounty. The first payment, with great difficulty, was paid to Mr. John Curwen of London, on the 9th of May, 1724, deposited by me, Henry Forest, curate of Loweswater. Yᵉ said 9th of May, yᵉ said Mr. Curwen went to the office, and saw my name registered there, etc. This, by the Providence of God, came by lot to this poor place.
"Hæc testor H. FOREST."
In another place he records, that the sycamore trees were planted in the churchyard in 1710.
He died in 1741, having been curate thirty-four years. It is not improbable that H. Forest was the gentleman who assisted Robert Walker in his classical studies at Loweswater.
To this parish register is prefixed a motto, of which the following verses are a part:--
Invigilate viri, tacito nam tempora gressu Diffugiunt, nulloque sono convertitur annus; Utendum est ætate, cito pede præterit ætas.
W. W. 1820.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote GT: Many archaic spellings, in this and other papers, are retained.--ED.]
[Footnote GU: The last sentence first appeared in the edition of 1837.--ED.]
[Footnote GV: To pay, or be distrained upon, for the accustomed annual interest due from them, among others.--W. W. 1820.]
[Footnote GW: Mr. Walker's charity being of that kind which "seeketh not her own," he would rather forego his rights than distrain for dues which the parties liable refused to pay as a point of conscience.--W. W. 1827.]
[Footnote GX: See _King Henry VIII._, act III. scene 2, ll. 384, 385.--ED.]
[Footnote GY: The paragraphs from "With pleasure" (p. 282) to "to the grave" (p. 283) were first printed in the edition of 1832.--ED.]
MEMORIALS OF A TOUR ON THE CONTINENT
1820
Composed 1821-2.--Published 1822
[I set out in company with my wife and sister, and Mr. and Mrs. Monkhouse, then just married, and Miss Horrocks. These two ladies, sisters, we left at Berne, while Mr. Monkhouse took the opportunity of making an excursion with us among the Alps as far as Milan. Mr. H. C. Robinson joined us at Lucerne, and when this ramble was completed we rejoined at Geneva the two ladies we had left at Berne and proceeded to Paris, where Mr. Monkhouse and H. C. R. left us, and where we spent five weeks, of which there is not a record in these poems.--I. F.]
See Dorothy Wordsworth's itinerary (Note A) of this tour, and Henry Crabb Robinson's account of it in his _Diary and Correspondence_, vol. ii. pp. 166-192 (Note B to this volume).--ED.
DEDICATION
(SENT WITH THESE POEMS, IN MS., TO ----)[467]
Dear Fellow-travellers![GZ] think not that the Muse, To You presenting these memorial Lays, Can hope the general eye thereon would gaze,[468] As on a mirror that gives back the hues Of living Nature; no--though free to choose 5 The greenest bowers, the most inviting ways, The fairest landscapes and the brightest days-- Her skill she tried with less ambitious views.[469] For You she wrought: Ye only can supply The life, the truth, the beauty: she confides 10 In that enjoyment which with You abides, Trusts to your love and vivid memory; Thus far contented, that for You her verse Shall lack not power the "meeting soul to pierce!"[HA]
W. WORDSWORTH.
RYDAL MOUNT, _Nov._ 1821[470]
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 467: Not in the editions of 1822-1832.]
[Footnote 468: 1837.
Presents to notice these memorial Lays, Hoping the general eye thereon will gaze, 1822. ]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote GZ: The Fellow-travellers were Mrs. Wordsworth, Dorothy Wordsworth, Mr. and Mrs. Monkhouse, Miss Horrocks, and Henry Crabb Robinson.--ED.]
I
FISH-WOMEN--ON LANDING AT CALAIS
'Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold The likeness of whate'er on land is seen; But, if the Nereid Sisters and their Queen,[HB] Above whose heads the tide so long hath rolled, The Dames resemble whom we here behold, 5 How fearful were it down through opening waves[471] To sink, and meet them in their fretted caves, Withered, grotesque, immeasurably old, And shrill and fierce in accent!--Fear it not: For they Earth's fairest daughters do excel;[472] 10 Pure undecaying[473] beauty is their lot; Their voices into liquid music swell, Thrilling each pearly cleft and sparry grot, The undisturbed abodes where Sea-nymphs dwell!
"If in this Sonnet I should seem to have borne a little too hard upon the personal appearance of the worthy Poissardes of Calais, let me take shelter under the authority of my lamented friend, the late Sir George Beaumont. He, a most accurate observer, used to say of them, that their features and countenances seemed to have conformed to those of the creatures they dealt in; at all events the resemblance was striking."--W. W. 1822.
In Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal of this Tour on the Continent,--which, in a letter to her daughter Dorothy (dated 20th February 1821), she calls "hasty notes made by snatches during our journey,"--the following occurs:--"Passing through the gates of the city, we had before us a line of white-capped Fish-women, with thin brown faces. The fish very foul, yet at dinner the same sort proved excellent."
In Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal of the same Tour, the following occurs:--"Tuesday, 11th July. Calais.--With one consent we stopped to gaze at a group--rather a _line_ of women and girls, seated beside dirty fish baskets under the old gate-way and ramparts--their white night caps, brown and puckered faces, bright eyes, etc. etc., very striking. The arrangements--how unlike those of a fish-market in the South of England!...
"Every one is struck with the excessive ugliness (if I may apply the word to any _human_ creatures) of the fish-women of Calais, and _that_ no one can forget."--ED.
Henry Crabb Robinson wrote of this sonnet:--"Of the sonnets there is one remarkable and _unique_; the humour and naïveté, and the exquisitely refined sentiment of the Calais fish-women, are a combination of excellencies quite novel." (_Diary, etc._, vol. ii. p. 224.)--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 469: 1827.
She felt too deeply what her skill must lose. 1822. ]
[Footnote 470: 1837.
Rydal Mount, January 1822. 1822. ]
[Footnote 471: 1837.
How terrible beneath the opening waves 1822. ]
[Footnote 472: 1822.
In grace Earth's fairest Daughters they excel; 1837.
The text of 1840 returns to that of 1822. ]
[Footnote 473: 1827.
Pure unmolested ... 1822. ]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote HA: Compare _L'Allegro_, l. 138.--ED.]
[Footnote HB: Amphitrite, herself a daughter of Nereus, was married to Posidon, and was therefore Queen of the Sea. The name Amphitrite is probably derived from the noise of waters pouring through the rifts of rocks, and there may be an allusion to this in the concluding lines of the sonnet.--ED.]
II
BRUGÈS
Brugès I saw attired with golden light (Streamed from the west) as with a robe of power: The splendour fled; and now the sunless hour, That, slowly making way for peaceful night,[474] Best suits with fallen grandeur, to my sight 5 Offers the beauty, the magnificence,[475] And sober graces,[476] left her for defence Against the injuries of time, the spite Of fortune, and the desolating storms Of future war. Advance not--spare to hide, 10 O gentle Power of darkness! these mild hues; Obscure not yet these silent avenues Of stateliest architecture, where the Forms Of nun-like females, with soft motion, glide!
This is not the first poetical tribute which in our times has been paid to this beautiful City. Mr. Southey, in the _Poet's Pilgrimage_, speaks of it in lines which I cannot deny myself the pleasure of connecting with my own.
"Time hath not wronged her, nor hath Ruin sought Rudely her splendid Structures to destroy, Save in those recent days, with evil fraught, When Mutability, in drunken joy Triumphant, and from all restraint released, Let loose her fierce and many-headed beast.
"But for the scars in that unhappy rage Inflicted, firm she stands and undecayed; Like our first Sires, a beautiful old age Is hers in venerable years arrayed; And yet, to her, benignant stars may bring, What fate denies to man,--a second spring.
"When I may read of tilts in days of old, And tourneys graced by Chieftains of renown, Fair dames, grave citizens, and warriors bold, If fancy would pourtray some stately town, Which for such pomp fit theatre should be, Fair Bruges, I shall then remember thee."
W. W. 1822.
"In this city are many vestiges of the splendour of the Burgundian Dukedom, and the long black mantle universally worn by the females is probably a remnant of the old Spanish connection, which, if I do not much deceive myself, is traceable in the grave deportment of its inhabitants. Bruges is comparatively little disturbed by that curious contest, or rather conflict, of Flemish with French propensities in matters of taste, so conspicuous through other parts of Flanders. The hotel to which we drove at Ghent furnished an odd instance. In the passages were paintings and statues, after the antique, of Hebe and Apollo; and in the garden, a little pond, about a yard and a half in diameter, with a weeping willow bending over it, and under the shade of that tree, in the centre of the pond a wooden painted statue of a Dutch or Flemish boor, looking ineffably tender upon his mistress, and embracing her. A living duck, tethered at the feet of the sculptured lovers, alternately tormented a miserable eel and itself with endeavours to escape from its bonds and prison. Had we chanced to espy the hostess of the hotel in this quaint rural retreat, the exhibition would have been complete. She was a true Flemish figure, in the dress of the days of Holbein; her symbol of office, a weighty bunch of keys, pendent from her portly waist. In Brussels, the modern taste in costume, architecture, etc., has got the mastery; in Ghent there is a struggle: but in Bruges old images are still paramount, and an air of monastic life among the quiet goings-on of a thinly-peopled city is inexpressibly soothing; a pensive grace seems to be cast over all, even the very children." (Extract from Journal.)--W. W. 1822.
From Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal:--"Thursday, 13th July....--Bruges. What a place. D. and I walked out as soon as we could after our arrival.... Went into the old church. The nuns, the different worshippers, the pictures, the place, the quiet stately streets, grand buildings, graceful nun-like women in their long cloaks, treading with swan-like motions those silent avenues of majestic architecture, I must leave to D. to describe. My own mind was uplifted by a sort of devotional elevation as if striving to fit itself to become worthy of what these temples would lead to."
"... Friday, 14th.--At Bruges all is silence, grace, and unmixed dignity.... You felt a sort of veneration for everything you looked upon. Nothing of this here" [_i.e._ at Ghent]; "yet what a splendid place! The evening too suited its character, for the sun went down in brightness. Yesterday was not a sunny day, and Bruges wanted no sunshine, its own outline in the gloom of evening needed no golden lustre. Yet _this_ William witnessed, when D. and I were not with him, the great Tower of the Market House bathed in gold!"
The following is from Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal:--"Thursday, 13th July. Dunkirk.--We entered Bruges by a long gently-winding street, and were so animated with pleasure in our hasty course that it seemed we too soon reached the inn. W. and Mr. M. walked out immediately, eager to view the city in the warm light of the setting sun....
"Continued to walk through the silent town till ten o'clock--no carts--no chaises--a cloistral silence felt in every corner and every open space, yet the large square was scattered over with groups of people; or passengers walking to and fro, no lights in the houses!"--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 474: 1837.
'Tis passed away;--and now the sunless hour, That slowly introducing peaceful night 1822.
'Tis past; and now the grave and sunless hour, That, slowly making way for peaceful night, 1832. ]
[Footnote 475: 1827.
Offers her beauty, her magnificence, 1822. ]
[Footnote 476: 1827.
And all the graces ... 1822. ]
III
BRUGÈS
The Spirit of Antiquity--enshrined In sumptuous buildings, vocal in sweet song, In picture, speaking with heroic tongue,[477] And with devout solemnities entwined-- Mounts to[478] the seat of grace within the mind: 5 Hence Forms that glide[479] with swan-like ease along, Hence motions, even amid the vulgar throng, To an harmonious decency confined: As if the streets were consecrated ground, The city one vast temple, dedicate 10 To mutual respect in thought and deed; To leisure, to forbearances sedate; To social cares from jarring passions freed; A deeper[480] peace than that in deserts found!
See the note to the last sonnet. The following is from Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal:--"Friday, 14th. Bruges.--Rose at five o'clock, paced the town again, and visited, but with disturbed mind (for I had left William in bed hurting himself with a sonnet), the churches of St. Salvador and Notre Dame.... I joined W. in our carriage, and have here written down the sonnet, Jones' Parsonage, so I hope he will be at rest."
The following is from Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal:--"Friday, 14th July. Bruges.--The morning was bright, sunshine and shade falling upon the lines of houses, and the out-juttings of the more noble buildings. In the bright light of morning the same tender melancholy was over the city as in the sober time of twilight, yet with intervening images of rural life. A few peasants were now entering the town, and the rattling of a rustic cart, prettily laden with vegetables fresh from the soil, gave a gentle stirring to the fancy. Early as it was, people of all ages were abroad chiefly on their way to the churches: the figure, gait, and motions of the women in harmony with the collegiate air of the streets, and the processions and solemnities of Catholic worship. Such figures might have walked through these streets, two hundred years ago; streets bearing no stamp of progress or of decay. One might fancy that as the city had been built so it had remained. We first went to the Church of St. Salvador, a venerable Gothic edifice. Within the Church, our walk between the lofty pillars was very solemn. We saw in perspective the marble floor scattered over, at irregular distances, with people of all ages--standing, or upon their knees, silent, yet making such motions as the order of their devotions prescribed, crossing themselves, beating their breasts, or telling their beads. Such the general appearance of the worshippers: but the gestures of some were more impassioned....
"We spent some time in admiring the beauty of the choir, and every other part of this noble building, adorned as it is with statues; and pictures not in the paltry style of the Churches at Calais and Fernes; but works of art that would be interesting _anywhere_, and are much more so in these sacred places, where the wretched and the happy, the poor and the rich are alike invited to cast away worldly feelings, and may be elevated by the representations of Scripture history, or of the sufferings and glory of martyrs and saints."
In the final arrangement of his poems, Wordsworth placed the one entitled _Incident at Brugès_--which belonged to the year 1828--after the two sonnets on Brugès in these "Memorials of a Tour on the Continent in 1820." In the present edition the former poem is restored to its chronological place (see vol. vii.), where it is associated with _A Jewish Family_. As a consequence the numbering of the poems differs slightly from that which Wordsworth finally adopted.--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 477: 1827.
And Tales transmitted through the popular tongue, 1822. ]
[Footnote 478: 1837.
Strikes at ... 1822.
Strikes to ... 1827. ]
[Footnote 479: 1827.
... slide ... 1822. ]
[Footnote 480: 1837.
A nobler ... 1822. ]
IV
AFTER VISITING THE FIELD OF WATERLOO
A wingèd Goddess--clothed in vesture wrought Of rainbow colours; One whose port was bold, Whose overburthened hand could scarcely hold The glittering crowns and garlands which it brought-- Hovered in air above the far-famed Spot. 5 She vanished; leaving prospect blank and cold Of wind-swept corn that wide around us rolled In dreary billows, wood, and meagre cot, And monuments that soon must disappear: Yet a dread local recompense we found; 10 While glory seemed betrayed, while patriot-zeal Sank in our hearts, we felt as men _should_ feel[481] With such vast hoards of hidden carnage near, And horror breathing from the silent ground!
"Namur, Tuesday 18th.--Our ride yesterday, except for the intervention of Waterloo, and its interests, which were so melancholy that I do not like to touch upon them, was a dull one, though the road was pleasant through the forest of Soignies. Waterloo, its pretty chapel, the walls within covered with monuments, recording the fall of many of our brave countrymen, and some few others as brave, La Haye Sainte, La Belle Alliance, Quatre Bras. Dined at Genappe; two bullet shots in the wainscot of the room, which, during the battle, had been heaped with dead and dying." (From Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.)
"Monday, 17th July, Brussels.--I could understand little till we got to the field of battle, where we stood upon an elevation; and thence, looking round upon every memorable spot, by help of gesture and action, and the sounds 'les Anglois, les Francois,' etc. etc., I gathered up a small portion of the story, helped out by a few monuments erected to the memory of the slain; but all round, there was no other visible record of slaughter: the wide fields were covered with luxuriant crops, just as they had been before the battles, except that now the corn was nearly ripe, and _then_ it was green. We stood upon grass, and corn fields where _heaps_ of our countrymen lay buried beneath our feet. There was little to be seen, but much to be felt; sorrow and sadness, and even something like horror breathed out of the ground as we stood upon it!" (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.) Compare the two sonnets _Occasioned by the Battle of Waterloo, February, 1816_, also the _Thanksgiving Ode_.--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 481: 1827.
She vanished--All was joyless, blank, and cold; But if from wind-swept fields of corn that roll'd In dreary billows, from the meagre cot, And monuments that soon may disappear, Meanings we craved which could not there be found; If the wide prospect seemed an envious seal Of great exploits; we felt as Men _should_ feel, 1822. ]
V
BETWEEN[482] NAMUR AND LIEGE
[The scenery on the Meuse pleases me more, upon the whole, than that of the Rhine, though the river itself is much inferior in grandeur. The rocks, both in form and colour, especially between Namur and Liege, surpass any upon the Rhine, though they are in several places disfigured by quarries, whence stones were taken for the new fortifications. This is much to be regretted, for they are useless, and the scars will remain perhaps for thousands of years. A like injury to a still greater degree has been inflicted, in my memory, upon the beautiful rocks of Clifton, on the banks of the Avon. There is probably in existence a very long letter of mine to Sir Uvedale Price, in which was given a description of the landscapes on the Meuse as compared with those on the Rhine.
Details in the spirit of these sonnets are given both in Mrs. Wordsworth's Journals and my Sister's, and the reperusal of them has strengthened a wish long entertained that somebody would put together, as in one work, the notices contained in them, omitting particulars that were written down merely to aid our memory, and bringing the whole into as small a compass as is consistent with the general interests belonging to the scenes, circumstances, and objects touched on by each writer.--I. F.]
What lovelier home could gentle Fancy choose? Is this the stream, whose cities, heights, and plains, War's favourite play-ground, are with crimson stains Familiar, as the Morn with pearly dews? The Morn, that now, along the silver MEUSE, 5 Spreading her peaceful ensigns, calls the swains To tend their silent boats and ringing wains, Or strip the bough whose mellow fruit bestrews The ripening corn beneath it. As mine eyes Turn from the fortified and threatening hill, 10 How sweet the prospect of yon watery glade, With its grey rocks clustering in pensive shade-- That, shaped like old monastic turrets, rise From the smooth meadow-ground, serene and still!
The following extract from Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal illustrates this sonnet, and explains the Fenwick note. The "long entertained" "wish" of the poet, expressed in that note, has never yet been accomplished. It may be realised in one of the volumes which follow, in this edition.
"July 18. Departure from _Namur_, road out of the town beautiful, wide, disk-like valley, gardens, groves, town standing upon its two rivers. Ramparts towering above, very impressive to cast the eyes back upon. Market people flocking in in groups, variety of dresses, of all gay colours. Flowers seem to be the delight of the peasantry. They are worn in their hats, upon their breasts, carried in the mouth when their hands are at work sometimes, or stuck behind the ear. Road excellent all the way down the Meuse. Villages in all situations,--among the rocks, now one peeps out of a recess, again another upon a knoll with its spire rising from among trees. More and more beautiful as you proceed down the river--rocks on the banks of the most fantastic forms, something like those on the Wye. Sometimes the valley reminded us of the trough of the Clyde. _Huy._ Church handsome, the high tower struck by lightning fourteen years ago; new fortifications, most picturesque and romantic situation. Crossed the Meuse here, charming view from the bridge.... Road very delightful, rocks, woods, chateau, convent, vineyards, hanging gardens, orchards with profusion of fruit, shrubs, and flowers, and corn lands, all in the most luxuriant state. So beautiful a day's journey I never before travelled."
The following is from Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.:--"Tuesday, July 18. Namur.--Having traversed the Vale, we travel downwards, with the stately, though muddy, river to our left--pass under limestone rocks resembling abbeys or castles--the opening prospect still presenting something new. Backwards, a noble view of the vale, terminated by the city and fortifications of Namur at the distance of, perhaps, two miles or more--our last farewell view! Still, as we go on, the rocks change their shapes, in prospect far off; or as we roll swiftly away beneath them. Villages not to be numbered by the hasty traveller, rise up, with spires and towers; cottages embowered in gardens and orchards, and sometimes an old chateau or modern villa. All these (in succession or together) vary the scene, while, the abundance of flowers, fruit, vegetables, and corn, interbedded and intermingled, give an image of plenty and happy industry."--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 482: 1837.
SCENERY BETWEEN ... 1822. ]
VI
AIX-LA-CHAPELLE
Was it to disenchant, and to undo, That we approached the Seat of Charlemaine? To sweep from many an old romantic strain That faith which no devotion may renew! Why does this puny Church present to view 5 Her[483] feeble columns? and that scanty chair! This sword that one of our weak times might wear! Objects of false pretence, or meanly true! If from a traveller's fortune I might claim A palpable memorial of that day, 10 Then would I seek the Pyrenean Breach That[484] ROLAND clove with huge two-handed sway,[HC] And to the enormous labour left his name, Where unremitting frosts the rocky crescent bleach.
_Where unremitting frosts the rocky crescent bleach._
"Let a wall of rocks be imagined from three to six hundred feet in height, and rising between France and Spain, so as physically to separate the two kingdoms--let us fancy this wall curved like a crescent with its convexity towards France. Lastly, let us suppose, that in the very middle of the wall a breach of 300 feet wide has been beaten down by the famous _Roland_, and we may have a good idea of what the mountaineers call the 'BRECHE DE ROLEND.'" (_Raymond's Pyrenees._)--W. W. 1822.
"Thursday, 20th July.--... Descend towards the town of Aix-la-Chapelle, a chapel on the opposite side of the vale upon a high knoll, overlooking the spires and towers.... Wm., T. M., and myself walked to the chapel we had seen on the heights, said to be built by Charlemagne: a very interesting view of the town, and over a large space of the country beyond, and _into_ the country looking the other way. Wm. went higher to a monument recording that Buonaparte visited the spot with one attendant. We were too late to be satisfied here, the darkness only allowing us to form a notion of the outline, and to catch here and there a spire or a tower in the distance. The chapel here alluded to was not larger in appearance than the tiny rocky edifice at Buttermere. A Christ under the branches of a spreading oak, brought to my mind by contrast, a gay image of a brightly painted fox, on a sign board, among the branches of a flowing chestnut tree, which William and I saw gleaming in the setting sun, when walking through the village of Souldren." (From Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.)
"Thursday, 20th July. Aix-la-Chapelle.--I went to the Cathedral, a curious Building where are to be seen the chair of Charlemagne, on which the Emperors were formerly crowned, some marble pillars much older than _his_ time; and many pictures; but I could not stay to examine any of these curiosities, and gladly made my way alone back to the inn to rest there. The market-place is a fine old square; but at Aix-la-Chapelle there is always a mighty preponderance of poverty and dulness, except in a few of the showiest of the streets, and even there, a flashy meanness, a slight patchery of things falling to pieces is everywhere visible." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.)--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 483: 1837.
Its ... 1822. ]
[Footnote 484: 1837.
Which ... 1822. ]
[Footnote HC: Compare _Paradise Lost_, book vi. l. 251--
With huge two-handed sway.
ED. ]
VII
IN THE CATHEDRAL AT COLOGNE
O for the help of Angels to complete This Temple[HD]--Angels governed by a plan Thus far pursued (how gloriously!) by Man,[485] Studious that _He_ might not disdain the seat Who dwells in heaven! But that aspiring heat 5 Hath failed; and now, ye Powers! whose gorgeous wings And splendid aspect yon emblazonings But faintly picture, 'twere an office meet For you, on these unfinished shafts to try The midnight virtues of your harmony:-- 10 This vast design might tempt you to repeat Strains[486] that call forth upon empyreal ground Immortal Fabrics, rising to the sound Of penetrating harps and voices sweet!
"Friday, July 21. Cologne.--... The Cathedral, a most magnificent edifice. Tower unfinished (this I perceived, but took it for a ruin at ten miles distance), built 700 years ago. The outside reminds you of Westminster Abbey in parts; and, had the Projector's wish been fulfilled, within and without, this would have been a much more sumptuous pile. It affectingly called to my mind William's lines--
Things incomplete and purposes betrayed Make sadder transits o'er truth's mystic glass, Than noblest objects utterly decayed.[HE]
Within the fluted Pillars are very grand; the dimensions, 180 German feet high, 700 long, and 500 broad. A curious old picture, 450 years old. Subject, the 3 Kings of Cologne in the centre (for it was divided into three parts, and kept shut up to protect it), and on the sides Ursula and the 11,000 virgins, by Ralfe; mounted 250 steps to the top of the unfinished Tower, and had a fine prospect of the river winding its way towards Dusseldorf.... The cathedral--that august and solemnly _impressive_ Temple.... William in his musing way...." (From Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.)
"Friday, 21st July. Cologne.--I cannot attempt to describe the Cathedral; nor indeed could any skill of mine do justice to that august pile, even if I might have lingered half a day among its walls. At our entrance, the evening sunshine rested upon portions of some of the hundred massy columns; while the shade and gloom, spread through the edifice, were deepened by those brilliant touches of golden light. Some of the painted windows were beautified by the melting together and the intermingling of colours, reflected upon the stone-work, colours and shapes, to the eye as unsubstantial as light itself, and visionary as the rainbow. The choir is hung with tapestry, designed by Rubens. It does, I think, to an unlearned eye somewhat resemble Henry the Seventh's chapel at Westminster, but is much loftier and larger. The long lancet-shaped painted windows are beautiful. The pillars and arches through the aisles of this Cathedral are of grey stone, sober, solemn, of great size, yet exquisitely proportioned; and no paltry images or tinselled altars disturb the one impression of awful magnificence, an impression received at once, and not to be overcome by regrets, that _only_ the _Choir_ and side aisles are finished. The nave, at half its destined height, is covered with a ceiling of boards. The exterior of this stupendous edifice is of massy, though most _beautiful_, architecture. Some of the lighter wreaths of stone-work (if great things may be compared with small) made me think of the Chapel of Roslin in its sequestered dell, where the adder's tongue and fern are mingled with green-grown flowers, and leaves of stone that neither fall nor fade. Flowers and bushes here grow out of the gigantic ruins--yet _ruins_ they are not; for as the Builder's hand left the unfinished work, so it appears to have remained in firmness and strength unshakable, while Nature has made her own of ornaments framed in imitation of her works, having overspread them with her colouring, and blended them with the treasures of her lonely places." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.)--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 485: 1837.
How gloriously pursued by daring Man, 1822.
]
[Footnote 486: 1827.
Charms ... 1822. ]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote HD: The cathedral of Cologne was completed on October 15, 1880.--ED.]
[Footnote HE: The reference is to the sonnet on _Malham Cove_ (see p. 185), and the Fenwick note to _The Excursion_.--ED.]
VIII
IN A CARRIAGE, UPON THE BANKS OF THE RHINE
Amid this dance of objects sadness steals O'er the defrauded heart--while sweeping by, As in a fit of Thespian jollity,[HF] Beneath her vine-leaf crown the green Earth reels: Backward, in rapid evanescence, wheels 5 The venerable pageantry of Time, Each beetling rampart, and each tower sublime, And what the Dell unwillingly reveals Of lurking cloistral arch, through trees espied Near the bright River's edge. Yet why repine? 10 To muse, to creep, to halt at will, to gaze-- Such sweet way-faring--of life's spring the pride, Her summer's faithful joy--_that_ still is mine, And in fit measure cheers autumnal days.[487]
"Saturday 22nd.--We were anxious, at least Wm. was, to be in Switzerland, and we must follow our destiny. Leaving the rich plain, came to the fine range of mountains we saw yesterday, and to the side of the glorious river, by which we have since travelled. Magnificent heights on its banks. The most abrupt and fantastic outlines; Convents (what an exquisite one that first which pushed itself forward on the green shore, where the river bends in its course); Ruined Castles, looking at each other from aloft, or down upon the convents, lurk in the woody clefts; picturesque Villages with their spires, at every turn of this stately winding river; beautiful road following its windings; every variety of form given to the rocks; and affecting intimations brought to mind, by the frequent oratories and crosses, here neither tawdry nor obtrusive. After changing horses at _Remengen_, lost sight for a while of our noble companion, which soon reappeared stretching along a more widely-spread vale; the green hills softly retiring, vineyards climbing up their sides, and into every crevice; corn yellow-green, the different crops richly filling the centre of the vale; the fine road, bordered now by apple-trees laden with fruit, now open to the undivided plain. Again the hills approached, and never was beheld a grander display of Nature's works and of human Art, than continued in succession to feast our eyes and imaginations. D. noted the objects _individually_, in one of the most beautiful passages" (of her journal). (Mrs. Wordsworth.)
"Saturday, 22nd July. Cologne.--For some miles, the traveller goes through the magnificent plain, which from its great width appears almost circular. Though _unseen_ the river Rhine, we never can forget that it is there! When the vale becomes narrower, one of the most interesting and beautiful of prospects opens on the view from a gentle rising in the road. On an island stands a large grey convent, sadly pensive among its garden walls and embowering wood. The musket and cannon have spared that sanctuary, and we were told that, though the establishment is dissolved, a few of the nuns still remain there, attached to the spot; or probably having neither friends or other home to repair to. On the right bank of the river, opposite to us, is a bold precipice, bearing on its summit a ruined fortress which looks down upon the convent; and the warlike and religious Edifices are connected together by a chivalrous story of slighted or luckless love, which caused the withdrawing of a fair Damsel to the Island, where she founded the monastery. Another bold ruin stands upon an eminence adjoining, and all these monuments of former times combine with villages and churches, and dells (between the steeps) green or corn-clad, and with the majestic River (here spread out like a lake) to compose a most affectingly beautiful scene, whether viewed in prospect or in retrospect. Still we rolled along (ah! far too swiftly! and often did I wish that I were a youthful traveller on foot), still we rolled along, meeting the flowing River, smooth as glass, yet so rapid that the stream of motion is always perceptible, even from a great distance. The riches of this region are not easily fancied,--the pretty paths, the gardens among plots of vineyard and corn, cottages peeping from the shade, villages and spires, in never-ending variety." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.)--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 487: 1837.
... Yet why repine? Pedestrian liberty shall yet be mine To muse, to creep, to halt at will, to gaze: Freedom which youth with copious hand supplied, May in fit measure bless my later days. 1822. ]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote HF: Thespis was the reputed inventor of tragedy, and he is said to have carried his rude stage and apparatus from village to village on waggons. Horace, _Ars Poetica_, 275.
Ignotum tragicae genus invenisse Camenae Dicitur et plaustris vexisse poëmata Thespis Quae canerent agerentque peruncti faecibus ora.
Thespis began the drama: rumour says In travelling carts he carried round his plays, When actors, smeared with lees, before the throng, Performed their parts with gesture and with song!
(CONINGTON.)
These celebrations became identified with the nine Dionysiac festivals. See Virgil, _Georgics_ ii. 380.
There is a reference to the dignity of tragedy throughout the sonnet, and yet to the fact that it is a passing show.--ED.]
IX
HYMN,
FOR THE BOATMEN, AS THEY APPROACH THE RAPIDS UNDER THE CASTLE OF HEIDELBERG
Jesu! bless our slender Boat, By the current swept along; Loud its threatenings--let them not Drown the music of a song Breathed thy mercy to implore, 5 Where these troubled waters roar!
Saviour, for our warning, seen[488] Bleeding on that precious Rood; If, while through the meadows green Gently wound the peaceful flood, 10 We forgot Thee, do not Thou Disregard thy Suppliants now!
Hither, like yon ancient Tower Watching o'er the River's bed, Fling the shadow of thy power, 15 Else we sleep among the dead; Thou who trod'st[489] the billowy sea, Shield us in our jeopardy!
Guide our Bark among the waves; Through the rocks our passage smooth; 20 Where the whirlpool frets and raves Let thy love its anger soothe: All our hope is placed in Thee; _Miserere Domine!_[HG]
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 488: 1837.
Lord and Saviour! who art seen 1822.
Saviour, in thy image, seen 1827. ]
[Footnote 489: 1827.
Traveller on ... 1822. ]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote HG: _Miserere Domine._
See the beautiful Song in Mr. Coleridge's Tragedy, "THE REMORSE." Why is the Harp of Quantock silent?--W. W. 1822.
The following is the song, _Miserere Domine_, from Coleridge's _Remorse_, act III. scene i.:--
Hear, sweet spirit, hear the spell, Lest a blacker charm compel! So shall the midnight breezes swell With thy deep long-lingering knell.
And at evening evermore, In a Chapel on the shore, Shall the Chaunters sad and saintly, Yellow tapers burning faintly, Doleful Masses chaunt for thee, _Miserere Domine!_
Hark! the cadence dies away On the quiet moonlight sea: The boatmen rest their oars and say, _Miserere Domine!_
This song was set to music by Mr. Carnaby in 1802.--ED.
"26th July.--Reached Heidelberg.... We walked a while about the garden and ruins of the Castle. Looked down upon the grey-roofed Town, with its Cathedral running parallel with the river Neckar, over which, by a fine bridge, we had crossed on entering; boats shooting curiously over the rapids; vines, hanging gardens climbing up the hill, clothing the rocks, and creeping into their crevices, on every side of us, and up to the very point where we stood. The Town, with its squares and fountains, its narrow long streets, with arched gateways, towers, and spires, courts, and quaint flower gardens, fill the deep valley. The river disappears, winding away among the hills to the right. Before us it holds a direct course--through a widening tract of the same prolific country--to the Rhine, seen in the distance.... 27th... The passage through the bridge being somewhat dangerous, those who accompany the rafts, as they approach, fall down upon their knees to pray, then raise their voices and sing an appropriate anthem till the peril is past." (Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.)
"Friday, 28th July. Heidelberg.--The River flows beside it calmly (though with strong motion as all these large rivers do), but after that point, to the Bridge, the channel is rocky, and therefore the stream turbulent. While passing under the garden-wall, the peasant sailor, before he trusts his boat or timber-raft to the rocks and rapids, kneels down and prays for protection from danger, and a safe passage through the arches of the Bridge. An Image of Jesus on the cross is the visible object of his worship, which Mr. Pickford, when he rebuilt his garden-wall, replaced in its station, out of respect to the piety or superstition of past and present times. During the passage an appropriate hymn is chaunted--the thought touched our poet's fancy, and he has since composed the following verses for the Heidelberg boatmen." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.)
In the edition of 1822 a sonnet followed this Hymn, entitled _The Jung-Frau--and the Rhine at Shauffhausen_. In the edition of 1827 it was transferred to the series of "Ecclesiastical Sonnets," under the title of its first line, "Down a swift Stream, thus far, a bold design," which place it retained in all subsequent editions (see Part III. No. xii.) The following note accompanied the sonnet in the edition of 1822:--"This Sonnet belongs to another publication, but from its fitness for this place is inserted here also.
'Voilà un énfer d'eau,' cried out a German Friend of Ramond, falling on his knees on the scaffold in front of this Waterfall. See Ramond's Translation of Coxe."--W. W.--ED.]
X
THE SOURCE OF THE DANUBE
Not, like his great Compeers, indignantly Doth DANUBE spring to life![490] The wandering Stream (Who loves the Cross, yet to the Crescent's gleam Unfolds a willing breast)[HH] with infant glee Slips from his prison walls: and Fancy, free 5 To follow in his track of silver light, Mounts on rapt wing, and with a moment's flight Hath reached the encincture of that gloomy sea[491][HI] Whose waves the Orphean lyre[HJ] forbad to meet In conflict; whose rough winds forgot their jars[492] 10 To waft the heroic progeny of Greece; When the first Ship sailed for the Golden Fleece-- ARGO--exalted for that daring feat To fix in heaven her shape distinct with stars.[493][HK]
_Not (like his great Compeers) indignantly Doth Danube spring to light!_
Before this quarter of the Black Forest was inhabited, the source of the Danube might have suggested some of those sublime images which Armstrong has so finely described; at present the contrast is most striking. The Spring appears in a capacious Stone Basin upon the front of a Ducal palace, with a pleasure-ground opposite; then, passing under the pavement, takes the form of a little, clear, bright, black, vigorous rill, barely wide enough to tempt the agility of a child five years old to leap over it,--and, entering the Garden, it joins, after a course of a few hundred yards, a Stream much more considerable than itself. The _copiousness_ of the Spring at _Doneschingen_ must have procured for it the honour of being named the Source of the Danube.--W. W. 1822.
"Monday, 31st July.--... We drew towards the town of Villingen, a foreign-looking place standing in the descent, and lifting up its metallic dome-like spires, without the accompaniment of a single tree.... The Church with its two-fold spire glittered in the hot sunshine, like pewter in a melting state. Our guide had told us that near this place the Danube took its rise; but not so.... At _Doneschingen_ changed horses again. _Here_ we laved in the water which flowed from the source of the majestic Danube, a little, clear, bright, black rill, that issuing from a capacious stone fountain, into which it springs, crosses the road, and glides rapidly along the side of a beautiful pleasure-ground.... We washed, drank, and luxuriated in the cool and pure waters of this rill, unwilling to quit what we were not again to see--a reality very different from the stately Danube, so long an image to the imagination." (Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.)
"Tuesday, 1st August. Villingen.--The landlord seemed to entertain high ideas of this his native place--its modern improvements in gardens and its former grandeur--and told us that one of his servants should conduct us to the palace, the gardens, the baths, and last of all, though most the object of our curiosity, to the source of the DANUBE....
"But I seem to have forgotten the source of the Danube, which truly _was 'another'_[HL] Danube after we had seen it; or, more properly speaking, after we had seen the moor-land country surrounding the Town of Doneschingen, where we knew we should meet with the source of that famous river; and it is not only _there_ (in that Hollow wild without grandeur), but actually within the walls of the Duke's courts adjoining the trim flower garden. The bountiful spring is received by a large square stone basin, and thence flows through the gardens in a narrow stream like a vigorous mill-race. Had an active boy been by our side he would have over-leapt it. That streamlet, after the course of a few hundred yards, falls into the bed of the united rivers the P---- and the P---- which take their rise in the _moorish_ hills seen on the right in the road from Villingen, and which we looked upon from the gardens at the same time that we saw the new-born streamlet (called the source of the Danube) gush into their channel. I suppose it must be the remarkable strength of the spring which has caused it to be dignified with its title; for certainly those other two streams (united a little above the gardens) are the primary sources (of this branch at least) of the Danube." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.)
What Dorothy Wordsworth mentions in reference to the Danube occurs in many other rivers; _e.g._ the source of the Clyde, in Scotland, is a tiny burn in Lanarkshire, which, after a short moorland course, falls (near Elvanfoot) into the large stream of the Daur--the latter having come down for many miles from the Lead Hills district. The P---- and P---- is probably a mistake for B---- and B----. The mountain torrent of the Bregé in the Schwartzwald is joined by the Bregach, and when the stream receives the waters from the spring in the Castle Garden of Doneschingen it becomes the Danube.--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 490: 1822.
But in the note to the poem the reading is "light." ]
[Footnote 491: 1840.
Reaches, with one brief moment's rapid flight, The vast Encincture of that gloomy sea 1822.
]
[Footnote 492: 1827.
Whose rough winds Orpheus soothed; whose waves did greet So skilfully that they forgot their jars-- 1822.
]
[Footnote 493: 1837.
Argo exalted by that daring feat To a conspicuous height among the stars! 1822.
Argo, exalted for that daring feat To bear in heaven a shape distinct with stars. 1827. ]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote HH: Referring to the circumstance that the Danube rises in a country where the Catholic religion prevails, and flows eastwards through lands where the faith of Islam is professed.--ED.]
[Footnote HI: The Black Sea. Orpheus accompanied the Argonauts in their expedition to Colchis. In the earlier form of the legend, this lyre subdued the winds and waves, and fixed the Symplegades firm in the sea, so that the Argo passed through unharmed. (See the legends in Ovid and Virgil, and in the _Argonautica_ of Apollonius Rhodius, 1. 23.)--ED.]
[Footnote HJ: See _Paradise Lost_, book iii. l. 17.--ED.]
[Footnote HK: According to the Greek astronomers, the lyre of Orpheus was placed by Zeus amongst the stars.--ED.]
[Footnote HL:
For when we're there, although 'tis fair, 'Twill be another Yarrow.
(See vol. ii. p. 413).--ED.]
XI
ON APPROACHING THE STAUBBACH, LAUTERBRUNNEN
Uttered by whom, or how inspired--designed For what strange service, does this concert reach Our ears, and near the dwellings of mankind! 'Mid fields familiarized to human speech?-- No Mermaids warble--to allay the wind 5 Driving some vessel toward a dangerous beach-- More thrilling melodies; Witch answering Witch, To chaunt a love-spell, never intertwined[494] Notes shrill and wild with art more musical: Alas! that from the lips of abject Want 10 Or[495] Idleness in tatters mendicant The strain should flow-free Fancy to enthral,[496] And with regret and useless pity haunt This bold, this bright,[497] this sky-born, WATERFALL!
The Staubbach is a narrow Stream, which, after a long course on the heights, comes to the sharp edge of a somewhat overhanging precipice, overleaps it with a bound, and, after a fall of 930 feet, forms again a rivulet. The vocal powers of these musical Beggars may seem to be exaggerated; but this wild and savage air was utterly unlike any sounds I had ever heard; the notes reached me from a distance, and on what occasion they were sung I could not guess, only they seemed to belong, in some way or other, to the Waterfall--and reminded me of religious services chaunted to Streams and Fountains in Pagan times.--W. W. 1822. Mr. Southey has thus accurately characterised the peculiarity of this music: "While we were at the Waterfall, some half-score peasants, chiefly women and girls, assembled just out of reach of the Spring, and set up--surely, the wildest chorus that ever was heard by human ears,--a song not of articulate sounds, but in which the voice was used as a mere instrument of music, more flexible than any which art could produce,--sweet, powerful, and thrilling beyond description." (See Notes to _A Tale of Paraguay_.)--W. W. 1837.
"Thursday, 10th Aug....--Walked to the Staubbach, the thin veil-like mist-besprinkled waterfall, that slips over the edge of an immensely high perpendicular rock--which, when we saw it by the morning light, was accompanied by a beautiful rainbow; spanning, like the arch of a bridge, the vapour at the base of the rock. Singing Girls. But I must not neglect to speak of the beauty of the _early_ morning, in the magnificent pass between Interlachen and Lauterbrunnen. The river from Jungfrau bounding down with great force, bringing a very cold air from the snowy regions. Cottages with their green summer plots climbing up in all directions, to the very skirts of these icy regions. Two that looked so beautiful in the sunshine. Women and children busy with their little lot of hay. Men mowing." (Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.)
"Thursday, 10th August. Interlachen.--The Staubbach is a narrow stream, which, after a long course on the heights, comes to the sharp edge of a somewhat overhanging precipice, overleaps it with a bound, and, after a fall of 930 feet, forms again a rivulet, that passing through a green sloping pasture crosses the road, and thence through the heaving grounds, takes its clear waters to the grey torrent of the Leutshen. When tracking with my young guide the rivulet to its momentary resting-place, a small basin at the foot of the cataract, two women appeared before me singing a shrill and savage air; the tones were startling, and in connection with their wild yet quiet figures strangely combined with the sounds of dashing water and the silent aspect of the huge crag that seemed to reach the sky! The morning sun falling on this side of the valley, a circular rainbow was seen when we were there, between the Fall and the Rock, the space being several yards, and you stand within that space in a bath of dew. I was close to the women when they began to sing, and hence, probably, it was that I perceived nothing of _sweetness_ in their tones. I cannot answer for the impression on the rest of the party except my brother, who being behind, heard the carol from a distance; and the description he gives of it is similar to Mr. Southey's in his Journal." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.)--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 494: 1837.
Tracks let me follow far from human-kind Which these illusive greetings may not reach; Where only Nature tunes her voice to teach Careless pursuits, and raptures unconfined. No Mermaid warbles (to allay the wind That drives some vessel tow'rds a dangerous beach) More thrilling melodies! no caverned Witch Chaunting a love-spell, ever intertwined 1822.
... tow'rd a dangerous beach) 1827. ]
[Footnote 495: 1837.
And ... 1822. ]
[Footnote 496: 1832.
They should proceed--enjoyment to enthral, 1822.
The strain should flow--enjoyment to enthral, 1827. ]
[Footnote 497: 1837.
... this pure, ... 1822. ]
XII
THE FALL OF THE AAR-HANDEC
From the fierce aspect of this River, throwing His giant body o'er the steep rock's brink, Back in astonishment and fear we shrink: But, gradually a calmer look bestowing, Flowers we espy beside the torrent growing; 5 Flowers that peep forth from many a cleft and chink, And, from the whirlwind of his anger, drink Hues ever fresh, in rocky fortress blowing: They suck--from breath that, threatening to destroy, Is more benignant than the dewy eve-- 10 Beauty, and life, and motions as of joy: Nor doubt but HE to whom yon Pine-trees nod Their heads in sign of worship,[HM] Nature's God, These humbler adorations will receive.
"Saturday, Aug. 12.--It is now half-past twelve o'clock, and I am sitting upon a sort of myrtle bed under a pine grove among the rocks, down which the headlong Aar cleaves its way, having dined in the cabin at Handeck, in close neighbourhood with our steeds. All that we have hitherto seen seemed at the moment but a faint preparation for the delights of this day. The beautiful valley we left behind us, the groves, the forest of oak and pine, the glades, the one particularly in which we met that 'Hoifer,' as we called him, with his heron's crest proudly reared upon his head, a little page carrying his accoutrements. He with many others, but none like this Hero, there was repairing to shoot for a prize at Meyringen. Then, those lovely vales, that circular one, the pride of them all, which led us to the savage Pass and giant Pines, where lurks this King of Waterfalls. What delicious couches to rest upon. Here to linger out a long summer's day would be a luxury. A more sober passage home--our spirits a little, but very little, damped by the stretch of enjoyment." (Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.)
"Saturday, 12th August. Meyringen.--Crossed the stream, and _re_-crossed it, and from a stony hollow, uninhabited, came into the gloom of a pine forest, which led us, by a steep ascent, to the rocks surrounding the Fall of the Aar. Long before our approach, we heard the roaring, while that sound was deadened by the intermediate rocks and trees; but when standing on a bank, in front of the cataract, I could have believed at the first moment, that it was louder even than that of the Rhine at Schaffhausen. This impression, no doubt, was owing chiefly to its being confined within a narrow space. The pine-clad precipices, especially on the opposite side, are very lofty, rising from the rocks of the Pass, kept bare by continual wetting. The gloom of the forest-mountains, in harmony with the sombrous hue of the water, would, of itself, make this first view of this cataract much more impressive than that of the Reichenbach; but again we looked in vain--not for delicate passages in the stream;--those could not be thought of;--but for some of those minute graces, and those overgrowings that detain us in admiration beside our own pellucid waterfalls.[HN] There is a grey furnace-like smoke of water, and a desperate motion and ferment, that make the head dizzy and stun the ears." ... "We clambered upon other rocks; and, at leisure, noticed the variety of shrubby plants and flowers, which here (being higher than the stream) grew securely, nursed by perpetual dews. Luxuriant tufts of a very large sedum were lodged on the ledges, or hung from dark crevices; those tufts, in form and motion, as they waved and fluttered in the breeze of the cataract, resembling the plumes of a hearse, were an ornament well suited to the pine-clad steeps, and the heavenly beauty of the rainbow." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.)--ED.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote HM: Compare Coleridge's _Hymn before Sunrise, in the Vale of Chamouni_.--ED.]
XIII
MEMORIAL,
NEAR THE OUTLET OF THE LAKE OF THUN
_"DEM ANDENKEN MEINES FREUNDES ALOYS REDING MDCCCXVIII"_
Aloys Reding, it will be remembered, was Captain-General of the Swiss forces, which, with a courage and perseverance worthy of the cause, opposed the flagitious and too successful attempt of Buonaparte to subjugate their country.--W. W. 1822.
Around a wild and woody hill A gravelled pathway treading, We reached a votive Stone that bears The name of Aloys Reding.
Well judged the Friend who placed it there 5 For silence and protection; And haply with a finer care Of dutiful affection.
The Sun regards it from the West; And, while in summer glory 10 He sets, his sinking yields a type[498] Of that pathetic story:
And oft he tempts the patriot Swiss Amid the grove to linger; Till all is dim, save this bright Stone 15 Touched by his golden finger.
"Aug. 7th. We reached this place, Thun. Walked or sate in the groves at the foot of the Lake, then crossed the river by a boat, and wandered in delightful pleasure groves on the other side. Then, passing a gravelled path, which is carried round the woody hill, we found among many interesting objects, one that was very impressive, a plain oval slab, raised upon a stone seat, directly fronting the setting sun, which at that moment was shedding his latest rays upon it. It was this inscription which spoke more than an elaborate panegyric:--
_DEM ANDENKEN MEINES FREUNDES ALOYS REDING MDCCCXVIII."_
(Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal.)
"Monday, 7th August. Berne.--One of the inscriptions (which I did not see) was to the memory of Aloys Reding, a Friend of the possessor of these grounds. A happy chance led my Companions to the spot; and here is the inscription copied by one of them:--
_DEM ANDENKEN MEINES FREUNDES ALOYS REDING MDCCCXVIII."_
The other bore away a store of interesting recollections which gave birth to the following little Poem:--
MEMORIAL VERSES
Around a wild and woody hill, etc."
(From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, 1820, vol. i.)
It will be observed from the dates given in the Journals, that the poet did not keep to the chronological order of the Journey, in arranging these "Memorials" of their Continental Tour. In the strict order of time, this memorial to Aloys Reding should have preceded the sonnet _On approaching the Staubbach_.--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 498: 1837.
Sinking in summer glory; And, while he sinks, affords a type 1822. ]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote HN: Compare Wordsworth's remarks on Waterfalls, in his _Description of the Scenery of the Lakes_.--ED.]
XIV
COMPOSED IN ONE OF THE CATHOLIC CANTONS[499]
Doomed as we are our native dust[500] To wet with many a bitter shower,[501] It ill befits us to disdain[502] The altar, to deride the fane, Where simple[503] Sufferers bend, in trust 5 To win a happier hour.
I love, where spreads the village lawn, Upon some knee-worn cell to gaze: Hail to the firm unmoving cross, Aloft, where pines their branches toss! 10 And to the chapel far withdrawn, That lurks by lonely ways!
Where'er we roam--along the brink Of Rhine--or by the sweeping Po, Through Alpine vale, or champain[HO] wide, 15 Whate'er we look on, at our side Be Charity!--to bid us think, And feel, if we would know.
The second stanza of this poem, entitled _Composed in one of the Catholic Cantons_, was in the original edition of 1822, a part of the poem entitled _The Church of San Salvador, seen from the Lake of Lugano_. The other stanzas were first published in 1827.
Numerous references to "the firm unmoving cross," and to
the chapel far withdrawn, That lurks by lonely ways,
occur both in Mrs. Wordsworth's and in Dorothy's Journal. _E.g._ (Crossing the St. Gotthard Pass) "Aug. 24.--... Gained the top by a steep pull; snow before and behind; a crucifix, and oratories thicken upon our course as we draw near to the Hospice. 'Gales from Italy' blow fresh around. Snow on the roadside. Farther on a little cross under a rock.... We yesterday noticed five of these crosses, two placed under one rock, and three under another." "Aug. 15. (Engelberg.)--... Counted the wayside upright oratories; found no less than sixteen before we reached the house, where we resumed our _char-à-bancs_." "Aug. 8. (At Interlachen.)--... The view that takes in the length of the Vale, following the snaky river with its islands, through those croft-like, woody, orchard meadows to Unterseen, with its weir, church, bridges, cottages, and that spiral edifice in the midst: Lake of Thun beyond, girt by mountains: Neissen, a pyramidal giant, predominant. Turning to the left towards Brientz, Ringenberg old Church tower rising from a high woody knoll. William and I came to it. (I write on the spot. Wm. asleep.) No entrance into the ruin, good view of Brientz Lake, and a little Loughrigg Tarn above, close under where we are seated among groves of limes, hazels, beeches, etc.; clanking hammers, singing girl. 'Will no one tell me what she sings?'[HP] A little further on, among those sylvan crofts, a scattered group of day or summer-deserted cabins; plots of hemp spread in the sunshine tell us dwellers sometimes come here. Hence steps of rock led us to a temple of Nature's own framing, roofed with ancient beech trees. Under one was firmly fixed in the ground a little upright stone, about a span in width, and three times that length. Upon it was roughly chisled a cross, not exactly a Christ-cross, but something like this.... I could not but feel that it might have been placed there by the Peasants, as a point to meet from their scattered sheds for worship. Natural seats, mossy or bare, like those in our own sylvan parlour (upon Rydal Lake), all around in the rocks, kept up the idea; and a more lovely and silent spot could not have been selected for a holy purpose: the little Tarn too in sight, in time of drought, ready to supply their rocky font with fresh water."
"Friday, 14th September. Martigny.--Passing the turn of the ascent, we come to another Cross, (placed there to face the Traveller ascending from the other side), and, from the brow of the eminence, behold! to our left, the huge Form of Mont Blanc--pikes, towers, needles, and wide wastes of everlasting snow in dazzling brightness. Below is the river Arve, a grey-white line, winding to the village of Chamouny, dimly seen in the distance. Our station, though on a height so commanding, was on the lowest point of the eminence; and such as I have sketched (but how imperfectly!) was the scene uplifted and outspread before us. The higher parts of the mountain in our neighbourhood are sprinkled with brown Chalets. So they were thirty years ago, as my Brother well remembered; and he pointed out to us the very quarter from which a Boy greeted him and his companion with an Alpine cry--
The stranger seen below, the boy Shouts from the echoing hills with savage joy."[HQ]
(From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. ii.) See also note to _Engelberg, the Hill of Angels_, p. 317, and to _Our Lady of the Snow_, p. 320.--ED.
VARIANTS:
[Footnote 499: 1837.
... Cantons of Switzerland. 1822. ]
[Footnote 500: 1827.
O Life! without thy chequered scene Of right and wrong, of weal and woe, Success and failure, could a ground For magnanimity be found? For faith, 'mid ruined hopes, serene? Or whence could virtue flow?
Yet are we doomed our native dust 1832.
The edition of 1837 returns to the text of 1827.]
[Footnote 501: 1827.
... fruitless shower, 1832.
The edition of 1837 returns to the text of 1827.]
[Footnote 502: 1827.
And ill it suits us to disdain 1832.
The edition of 1837 returns to the text of 1827.]
[Footnote 503: 1832.
Where patient ... 1827. ]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote HO: Wordsworth's spelling is retained.--ED.]
[Footnote HP: See _The Solitary Reaper_ (vol. ii. p. 398).--ED.]
[Footnote HQ: See _Descriptive Sketches_ (vol. i. p. 59).--ED.]
XV
AFTER-THOUGHT
Oh Life! without thy chequered scene Of right and wrong, of weal and woe, Success and failure, could a ground For magnanimity be found; For faith, 'mid ruin'd hopes, serene? 5 Or whence could virtue flow?
Pain entered through a ghastly breach-- Nor while sin lasts must effort cease; Heaven upon earth's an empty boast; But, for the bowers of Eden lost, 10 Mercy has placed within our reach A portion of God's peace.
The first stanza of this _After-Thought_ was first published in the edition of 1832, as the beginning of the poem _Composed in one of the Catholic Cantons_, and the second stanza in the edition of 1837 when the _After-Thought_ first appeared.--ED.
XVI
SCENE ON THE LAKE OF BRIENTZ
"What know we of the Blest above But that they sing and that they love?"[HR] Yet, if they ever did inspire A mortal hymn, or shaped the choir, Now, where those harvest Damsels float 5 Home-ward in their rugged Boat, (While all the ruffling winds are fled-- Each slumbering on some mountain's head) Now, surely, hath that gracious aid Been felt, that influence is displayed. 10 Pupils of Heaven, in order stand The rustic Maidens, every hand Upon a Sister's shoulder laid,-- To chant, as glides the boat along, A simple, but a touching, song; 15 To chant, as Angels do above, The melodies of Peace in love!
The only reference to a "scene on the lake of Brientz" in Mrs. Wordsworth's Journal which could have given rise to the preceding poem is the following:--"William's desires extended to a promontory, whence he hoped to see the termination of the lake, and thither he is gone to look out for the Boat, our friends being upon the water. I am left to rest under the shade of some beeches. A fine walk we have had; bold immensely high limestone rocks above my head, grey hoary steeps, magnificent walnut trees, the favourite of the country; Swiss figures gliding among the trees, with their deep bright baskets on their backs; pines climbing up to the sky, fringing the rocks; scarlet barberries glittering, and tipping the pendent boughs of the beech or walnut trees below," etc. etc.
"Wednesday, 9th August. Interlachen.--Our minstrel peasants passed us on the water, no longer singing _plaintive_ ditties such as inspired the little poem, which I shall transcribe in the following page; but with bursts of merriment they rowed lustily away. The poet has, however, transported the minstrels in their gentle mood from the Cottage door to the calm Lake." (From Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal, vol. i.)--ED.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote HR: Compare Edmund Waller, _Upon the Death of my Lady Rich_,