That instant, startled by the shock,
The Buzzard mounted from the rock
Deliberate and slow:
Lord of the air, he took his flight; 5
Oh!
The Buzzard mounted from the rock
Deliberate and slow:
Lord of the air, he took his flight; 5
Oh!
William Wordsworth
.
1807.
]
[Variant 2:
1815.
And doth her best . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 3:
1837.
Makes efforts and complainings; nor gives o'er
Until her Fellow sunk, and reappear'd no more. 1807.
. . . sank, . . . 1820. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: In 1807 and 1815 the title was 'Incident, Characteristic of
a favourite Dog, which belonged to a Friend of the Author'. --Ed. ]
* * * * *
TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF THE SAME DOG
Composed 1805. --Published 1807
[Was written at the same time, 1805. The Dog Music died, aged and blind,
by falling into a draw-well at Gallow] Hill, to the great grief of the
family of the Hutchinsons, who, as has been before mentioned, had
removed to that place from Sockburn. --I. F. ]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection. "--Ed.
Lie [1] here, without a record of thy worth,
Beneath a [2] covering of the common earth!
It is not from unwillingness to praise,
Or want of love, that here no Stone we raise;
More thou deserv'st; but _this_ man gives to man, 5
Brother to brother, _this_ is all we can.
Yet [3] they to whom thy virtues made thee dear
Shall find thee through all changes of the year:
This Oak points out thy grave; the silent tree
Will gladly stand a monument of thee. 10
We grieved for thee, and wished thy end were past; [4]
And willingly have laid thee here at last:
For thou hadst lived till every thing that cheers
In thee had yielded to the weight of years;
Extreme old age had wasted thee away, 15
And left thee but a glimmering of the day;
Thy ears were deaf, and feeble were thy knees,--
I saw thee stagger in the summer breeze,
Too weak to stand against its sportive breath,
And ready for the gentlest stroke of death. 20
It came, and we were glad; yet tears were shed;
Both man and woman wept when thou wert dead;
Not only for a thousand thoughts that were,
Old household thoughts, in which thou hadst thy share;
But for some precious boons vouchsafed to thee, 25
Found scarcely any where in like degree!
For love, that comes wherever life and sense
Are given by God, in thee was most intense; [5]
A chain of heart, a feeling of the mind,
A tender sympathy, which did thee bind 30
Not only to us Men, but to thy Kind:
Yea, for thy fellow-brutes in thee we saw
A soul [6] of love, love's intellectual law:--
Hence, if we wept, it was not done in shame;
Our tears from passion and from reason came, 35
And, therefore, shalt thou be an honoured name!
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1: In the editions of 1807 to 1820 the following lines began
the poem. They were withdrawn in 1827.
Lie here sequester'd:--be this little mound
For ever thine, and be it holy ground! ]
[Variant 2:
1827.
Beneath the . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 3:
But . . . MS. ]
[Variant 4:
1837.
I pray'd for thee, and that thy end were past; 1807.
I grieved for thee, and wished thy end were past; 1820. ]
[Variant 5:
1837.
For love, that comes to all; the holy sense,
Best gift of God, in thee was most intense; 1807. ]
[Variant 6:
1837.
The soul . . . 1807. ]
* * * * *
TO THE DAISY (#4)
Composed 1805. --Published 1815
Placed by Wordsworth among his "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces. "--Ed.
Sweet Flower! belike one day to have
A place upon thy Poet's grave,
I welcome thee once more:
But He, who was on land, at sea,
My Brother, too, in loving thee, 5
Although he loved more silently,
Sleeps by his native shore.
Ah! hopeful, hopeful was the day
When to that Ship he bent his way,
To govern and to guide: 10
His wish was gained: a little time
Would bring him back in manhood's prime
And free for life, these hills to climb;
With all his wants supplied.
And full of hope day followed day 15
While that stout Ship at anchor lay
Beside the shores of Wight;
The May had then made all things green;
And, floating there, in pomp serene,
That Ship was goodly to be seen, 20
His pride and his delight!
Yet then, when called ashore, he sought
The tender peace of rural thought:
In more than happy mood
To your abodes, bright daisy Flowers! 25
He then would steal at leisure hours,
And loved you glittering in your bowers,
A starry multitude.
But hark the word! --the ship is gone;--
Returns from her long course: [1]--anon 30
Sets sail:--in season due,
Once more on English earth they stand:
But, when a third time from the land
They parted, sorrow was at hand
For Him and for his crew. 35
Ill-fated Vessel! --ghastly shock!
--At length delivered from the rock,
The deep she hath regained;
And through the stormy night they steer;
Labouring for life, in hope and fear, 40
To reach a safer shore [2]--how near,
Yet not to be attained!
"Silence! " the brave Commander cried;
To that calm word a shriek replied,
It was the last death-shriek. 45
--A few (my soul oft sees that sight)
Survive upon the tall mast's height; [3]
But one dear remnant of the night--
For Him in vain I seek.
Six weeks beneath the moving sea 50
He lay in slumber quietly;
Unforced by wind or wave
To quit the Ship for which he died,
(All claims of duty satisfied;)
And there they found him at her side; 55
And bore him to the grave.
Vain service! yet not vainly done
For this, if other end were none,
That He, who had been cast
Upon a way of life unmeet 60
For such a gentle Soul and sweet,
Should find an undisturbed retreat
Near what he loved, at last--
That neighbourhood of grove and field
To Him a resting-place should yield, 65
A meek man and a brave!
The birds shall sing and ocean make
A mournful murmur for _his_ sake;
And Thou, sweet Flower, shalt sleep and wake
Upon his senseless grave. [4] 70
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1837.
From her long course returns:--. . . 1815. ]
[Variant 2:
1837.
Towards a safer shore--. . . 1815. ]
[Variant 3:
1837
--A few appear by morning light,
Preserved upon the tall mast's height:
Oft in my Soul I see that sight; 1815. ]
[Variant 4: In the edition of 1827 and subsequent ones, Wordsworth here
inserted a footnote, asking the reader to refer to No. VI. of the "Poems
on the Naming of Places," beginning "When, to the attractions of the
busy world," p. 66. His note of 1837 refers also to the poem which there
precedes the present one, viz. the 'Elegiac Stanzas. '--Ed. ]
* * * * *
ELEGIAC STANZAS [A]
SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE, IN A STORM,
PAINTED BY SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT
Composed 1805. --Published 1807
[Sir George Beaumont painted two pictures of this subject, one of which
he gave to Mrs. Wordsworth, saying she ought to have it; but Lady
Beaumont interfered, and after Sir George's death she gave it to Sir
Uvedale Price, at whose house at Foxley I have seen it. --I. F. ]
Placed by Wordsworth among his "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces. "--Ed.
I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile!
Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee:
I saw thee every day; and all the while
Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea.
So pure the sky, so quiet was the air! 5
So like, so very like, was day to day!
Whene'er I looked, thy Image still was there;
It trembled, but it never passed away.
How perfect was the calm! it seemed no sleep;
No mood, which season takes away, or brings: 10
I could have fancied that the mighty Deep
Was even the gentlest of all gentle Things.
Ah! THEN, if mine had been the Painter's hand,
To express what then I saw; and add the gleam,
The light that never was, on sea or land, 15
The consecration, and the Poet's dream; [1]
I would have planted thee, thou hoary Pile
Amid a world how different from this!
Beside a sea that could not cease to smile;
On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss. 20
Thou shouldst have seemed a treasure-house divine [2]
Of peaceful years; a chronicle of heaven;--
Of all the sunbeams that did ever shine
The very sweetest had to thee been given.
A Picture had it been of lasting ease, 25
Elysian quiet, without toil or strife;
No motion but the moving tide, a breeze,
Or merely silent Nature's breathing life.
Such, in the fond illusion [3] of my heart,
Such Picture would I at that time have made: 30
And seen the soul of truth in every part,
A stedfast peace that might not be betrayed. [4]
So once it would have been,--'tis so no more;
I have submitted to a new control:
A power is gone, which nothing can restore; 35
A deep distress hath humanised my Soul.
Not for a moment could I now behold
A smiling sea, and be what I have been:
The feeling of my loss will ne'er be old;
This, which I know, I speak with mind serene. 40
Then, Beaumont, Friend! who would have been the Friend,
If he had lived, of Him whom I deplore,
This work of thine I blame not, but commend;
This sea in anger, and that dismal shore.
O 'tis a passionate Work! --yet wise and well, 45
Well chosen is the spirit that is here;
That Hulk which labours in the deadly swell,
This rueful sky, this pageantry of fear!
And this huge Castle, standing here sublime,
1 love to see the look with which it braves, 50
Cased in the unfeeling armour of old time,
The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves.
Farewell, farewell the heart that lives alone,
Housed in a dream, at distance from the Kind!
Such happiness, wherever it be known, 55
Is to be pitied; for 'tis surely blind.
But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer,
And frequent sights of what is to be borne!
Such sights, or worse, as are before me here. --
Not without hope we suffer and we mourn. 60
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1807.
and add a gleam,
The lustre, known to neither sea nor land,
But borrowed from the youthful Poet's dream; 1820.
. . . the gleam, 1827.
The edition of 1832 returns to the text of 1807. [a]]
[Variant 2:
1845.
. . . a treasure-house, a mine 1807.
The whole of this stanza was omitted in the editions of 1820-1843. ]
[Variant 3:
1815.
. . . delusion . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 4:
1837.
A faith, a trust, that could not be betray'd. 1807. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: The original title, in MS, was 'Verses suggested',
etc,--Ed. ]
* * * * *
SUB-FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Sub-Footnote a: Many years ago Principal Shairp wrote to me,
"Have you noted how the two lines, 'The light that never was,' etc. ,
stood in the edition of 1827? I know no other such instance of a
change from commonplace to perfection of ideality. "
The Principal had not remembered at the time that the "perfection of
ideality" was in the original edition of 1807. The curious thing is that
the prosaic version of 1820 and 1827 ever took its place. Wordsworth's
return to his original reading was one of the wisest changes he
introduced into the text of 1832. --Ed. ]
There is a Peele Castle, on a small rocky island, close to the town of
Peele, in the Isle of Man; yet separated from it, much as St. Michael's
Mount in Cornwall is separated from the mainland. This castle was
believed by many to be the one which Sir George painted, and which gave
rise to the foregoing lines. I visited it in 1879, being then ignorant
that any other Peele Castle existed; and although, the day being calm,
and the season summer, I thought Sir George had idealized his subject
much--(as I had just left Coleorton, where the picture still exists)--I
accepted the customary opinion. But I am now convinced, both from the
testimony of the Arnold family, [B] and as the result of a visit to Piel
Castle, near Barrow in Furness, that Wordsworth refers to it. The late
Bishop of Lincoln, in his uncle's 'Memoirs' (vol. i. p. 299), quotes the
line
"I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged pile,"
and adds,
"He had spent four weeks there of a college summer vacation at the
house of his cousin, Mr. Barker. "
This house was at Rampside, the village opposite Piel, on the coast of
Lancashire. The "rugged pile," too, now "cased in the unfeeling armour
of old time," painted by Beaumont, is obviously this Piel Castle near
Barrow. I took the engraving of his picture with me, when visiting it:
and although Sir George--after the manner of landscape artists of his
day--took many liberties with his subjects, it is apparent that it was
this, and not Peele Castle in Mona, that he painted. The "four summer
weeks" referred to in the first stanza, were those spent at Piel during
the year 1794.
With the last verse of these 'Elegiac Stanzas' compare stanzas ten and
eleven of the 'Ode, Intimations of Immortality', vol. viii.
One of the two pictures of "Peele Castle in a Storm"--engraved by S. W.
Reynolds, and published in the editions of Wordsworth's poems of 1815
and 1820--is still in the Beaumont Gallery at Coleorton Hall.
The poem is so memorable that I have arranged to make this picture of
"Peele Castle in a Storm," the vignette to vol. xv. of this edition. It
deserves to be noted that it was to the pleading of Barron Field that we
owe the restoration of the original line of 1807,
'The light that never was, on sea or land. '
An interesting account of Piel Castle will be found in Hearne and
Byrne's 'Antiquities'. It was built by the Abbot of Furness in the first
year of the reign of Edward III. --Ed.
[Footnote B: Miss Arnold wrote to me, in December 1893:
"I have never doubted that the Peele Castle of Wordsworth is the Piel
off Walney Island. I know that my brother Matthew so believed, and I
went with him some years ago from Furness Abbey over to Piel, visiting
it as the subject of the picture and the poem. "
Ed. ]
* * * * *
ELEGIAC VERSES,
IN MEMORY OF MY BROTHER, JOHN WORDSWORTH, COMMANDER OF THE E. I.
COMPANY'S SHIP, 'THE EARL OF ABERGAVENNY', IN WHICH HE PERISHED BY
CALAMITOUS SHIPWRECK, FEB. 6TH, 1805.
Composed near the Mountain track, that leads from Grasmere through
Grisdale Hawes, where it descends towards Patterdale.
Composed 1805. --Published 1842
[ "Here did we stop; and here looked round,
While each into himself descends. "
The point is two or three yards below the outlet of Grisedale Tarn, on a
foot-road by which a horse may pass to Patterdale--a ridge of Helvellyn
on the left, and the summit of Fairfield on the right. --I. F. ]
This poem was included among the "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces. "--Ed.
I The Sheep-boy whistled loud, and lo!
That instant, startled by the shock,
The Buzzard mounted from the rock
Deliberate and slow:
Lord of the air, he took his flight; 5
Oh! could he on that woeful night
Have lent his wing, my Brother dear,
For one poor moment's space to Thee,
And all who struggled with the Sea,
When safety was so near. 10
II Thus in the weakness of my heart
I spoke (but let that pang be still)
When rising from the rock at will,
I saw the Bird depart.
And let me calmly bless the Power 15
That meets me in this unknown Flower,
Affecting type of him I mourn!
With calmness suffer and believe,
And grieve, and know that I must grieve,
Not cheerless, though forlorn. 20
III Here did we stop; and here looked round
While each into himself descends,
For that last thought of parting Friends
That is not to be found.
Hidden was Grasmere Vale from sight, 25
Our home and his, his heart's delight,
His quiet heart's selected home.
But time before him melts away,
And he hath feeling of a day
Of blessedness to come. 30
IV Full soon in sorrow did I weep,
Taught that the mutual hope was dust,
In sorrow, but for higher trust,
How miserably deep!
All vanished in a single word, 35
A breath, a sound, and scarcely heard.
Sea--Ship--drowned--Shipwreck--so it came,
The meek, the brave, the good, was gone;
He who had been our living John
Was nothing but a name. 40
V That was indeed a parting! oh,
Glad am I, glad that it is past;
For there were some on whom it cast
Unutterable woe.
But they as well as I have gains;--45
From many a humble source, to pains
Like these, there comes a mild release;
Even here I feel it, even this Plant
Is in its beauty ministrant
To comfort and to peace. 50
VI He would have loved thy modest grace,
Meek Flower! To Him I would have said,
"It grows upon its native bed
Beside our Parting-place;
There, cleaving to the ground, it lies 55
With multitude of purple eyes,
Spangling a cushion green like moss;
But we will see it, joyful tide!
Some day, to see it in its pride,
The mountain will we cross. " 60
VII--Brother and friend, if verse of mine
Have power to make thy virtues known,
Here let a monumental Stone
Stand--sacred as a Shrine;
And to the few who pass this way, 65
Traveller or Shepherd, let it say,
Long as these mighty rocks endure,--
Oh do not Thou too fondly brood,
Although deserving of all good,
On any earthly hope, however pure! [A] 70
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: See 2nd vol. of the Author's Poems, page 298, and 5th vol. ,
pages 311 and 314, among Elegiac Pieces. --W. W. 1842.
These poems are those respectively beginning:
"When, to the attractions of the busy world . . . "
"I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile! . . . "
"Sweet Flower! belike one day to have . . . "
Ed.
The plant alluded to is the Moss Campion (Silene acaulis, of Linnaeus).
See note at the end of the volume. --W. W. 1842.
See among the "Poems on the Naming of Places," No. VI. --W. W. 1845.
The note is as follows:
"Moss Campion ('Silene acaulis'). This most beautiful plant is scarce
in England, though it is found in great abundance upon the mountains
of Scotland. The first specimen I ever saw of it in its native bed was
singularly fine, the tuft or cushion being at least eight inches
diameter, and the root proportionably thick. I have only met with it
in two places among our mountains, in both of which I have since
sought for it in vain.
Botanists will not, I hope, take it ill, if I caution them against
carrying off inconsiderately rare and beautiful plants. This has often
been done, particularly from Ingleborough and other mountains in
Yorkshire, till the species have totally disappeared, to the great
regret of lovers of nature living near the places where they
grew. "--W. W. 1842.
See also 'The Prelude', book xiv. 1. 419, p. 379. --Ed. ]
This poem underwent no change in successive editions.
At a meeting of "The Wordsworth Society" held at Grasmere, in July 1881,
it was proposed by one of the members, the Rev. H. D. Rawnsley, then
Vicar of Wray, to erect some memorial at the parting-place of the
brothers. The brothers John and William Wordsworth parted at Grisedale
Tarn, on the 29th September 1800. The originator of the idea wrote thus
of it in June 1882:
"A proposition, made by one of its members to the Wordsworth Society
when it met in Grasmere in 1881, to mark the spot in the Grisedale
Pass of Wordsworth's parting from his brother John--and to carry out a
wish the poet seems to have hinted at in the last of his elegiac
verses in memory of that parting--is now being put into effect. It has
been determined, after correspondence with Lord Coleridge, Dr.
Cradock, Professor Knight, and Mr. Hills, to have inscribed--(on the
native rock, if possible)--the first four lines of Stanzas III. and
VII. of these verses:
'Here did we stop; and here looked round
While each into himself descends,
For that last thought of parting Friends
That is not to be found.
. . .
Brother and friend, if verse of mine
Have power to make thy virtues known,
Here let a monumental Stone
Stand--sacred as a Shrine. '
The rock selected is a fine mass, facing the east, on the left of the
track as one descends from Grisedale Tarn towards Patterdale, and is
about 100 yards from the tarn. No more suitable one can be found, and
we have the testimony of Mr. David Richardson of Newcastle, who has
practical knowledge of engineering, that it is the fittest, both from
shape and from slight incline of plane.
It has been proposed to sink a panel in the face of the rock, that so
the inscription may be slightly protected, and to engrave the letters
upon the face of the panel thus obtained. But it is not quite certain
yet that the grain of the rock--volcanic ash--will admit of the
lettering. If this cannot be carried out, it has been determined to
have the letters engraved upon a slab of Langdale slate, and imbed it
in the Grisedale Rock.
It is believed that the simplicity of the design, the lonely isolation
of this mountain memorial, will appeal at once
' . . . to the few who pass this way,
Traveller or Shepherd. '
And we in our turn appeal to English tourists who may chance to see
it, to forego the wish of adding to it, or taking anything from it, by
engraving their own names; and to let the Monumental Stone stand, as
the poet wished it might
' . . . stand, SACRED as a Shrine. '
We owe great thanks to Mrs. Sturge for first surveying the place, to
ascertain the possibility of finding a mountain rock sufficiently
striking in position; to Mr. Richardson, jun. , for his etching of the
rock, upon which the inscription is to be made; to his father for the
kind trouble he took in the measurement of the said rock; and
particularly to the seconder of the original proposal, and my
coadjutor in the task of final selection and superintending the work,
Mr. W. H. Hills.
H. D. RAWNSLEY.
_P. S. _--When we came to examine the rock, we found the area for the
panel less than we had hoped for, owing to certain rock fissures,
which, by acting as drains for the rainwater on the surface, would
have much interfered with the durability of the inscription. The
available space for the panel remains 3 feet 7 in length by 1 foot 9
inches in depth. Owing to the fineness of the grain of the stone, it
may be quite possible to letter the native rock; but it has been
difficult to fix on a style of lettering for the inscription that
shall be at once in good taste, forcible, and plain. It was proposed
that the Script type of letter which was made use of in the
inscription cut on the rock, in the late Mr. Ball's garden grounds
below the Mount at Rydal, should be adopted; but a final decision has
been given in favour of a style of lettering which Mrs. Rawnsley has
designed. The panel is, from its position, certain to attract the eye
of the wanderer from Patterdale up to the Grisedale Pass.
H. D. R. "
See the note to 'The Waggoner', p. 112, referring to the Rock of Names,
on the shore of Thirlmere.
The following extract from 'Recollections from 1803 to 1837, with a
Conclusion in 1868, by the Hon. Amelia Murray' (London: Longmans, Green,
and Co. 1868)--refers to the loss of the 'Abergavenny':
"One morning, coming down early, I saw what I thought was a great big
ship without any hull. This was the 'Abergavenny', East Indiaman,
which had sunk with all sails set, hardly three miles from the shore,
and all on board perished.
Had any of the crew taken refuge in the main-top, they might have been
saved; but the bowsprit, which was crowded with human beings, gave a
lurch into the sea as the ship settled down, and thus all were washed
off--though the timber appeared again above water when the
'Abergavenny' touched the ground. The ship had sprung a leak off St.
Alban's Head; and in spite of pumps, she went to the bottom just
within reach of safety. " Pp. 12, 13.
A 'Narrative of the loss of the "Earl of Abergavenny" East Indiaman, off
Portland, Feb. 5, 1805', was published in pamphlet form (8vo, 1805), by
Hamilton and Bird, 21 High Street, Islington.
For much in reference to John Wordsworth, which illustrates both these
'Elegiac Verses', and the poem "On the Naming of Places" which follows
them, I must refer to his 'Life' to be published in another volume of
this series; but there is one letter of Dorothy Wordsworth's, written to
her friend Miss Jane Pollard (afterwards Mrs. Marshall), in reference to
her brother's death, which may find a place here. For the use of it I am
indebted to the kindness of Mrs. Marshall's daughter, the Dowager Lady
Monteagle:
"March 16th, 1805. Grasmere.
". . . It does me good to weep for him, and it does me good to find that
others weep, and I bless them for it. . . . It is with me, when I write,
as when I am walking out in this vale, once so full of joy. I can turn
to no object that does not remind me of our loss. I see nothing that
he would not have loved, and enjoyed. . . . My consolations rather come
to me in gusts of feeling, than are the quiet growth of my mind. I
know it will not always be so. The time will come when the light of
the setting sun upon these mountain tops will be as heretofore a pure
joy; not the same _gladness_, that can never be--but yet a joy even
more tender. It will soothe me to know how happy he would have been,
could he have seen the same beautiful spectacle. . . . He was taken away
in the freshness of his manhood; pure he was, and innocent as a child.
Never human being was more thoroughly modest, and his courage I need
not speak of. He was 'seen speaking with apparent cheerfulness to the
first mate a few minutes before the ship went down;' and when nothing
more could be done, He said, 'the will of God be done. ' I have no
doubt when he felt that it was out of his power to save his life he
was as calm as before, if some thought of what we should endure did
not awaken a pang. . . . He loved solitude, and he rejoiced in society.
He would wander alone amongst these hills with his fishing-rod, or led
on by the mere pleasure of walking, for many hours; or he would walk
with W. or me, or both of us, and was continually pointing out--with a
gladness which is seldom seen but in very young people--something
which perhaps would have escaped our observation; for he had so fine
an eye that no distinction was unnoticed by him, and so tender a
feeling that he never noticed anything in vain. Many a time has he
called out to me at evening to look at the moon or stars, or a cloudy
sky, or this vale in the quiet moonlight; but the stars and moon were
his chief delight. He made of them his companions when he was at sea,
and was never tired of those thoughts which the silence of the night
fed in him. Then he was so happy by the fireside. Any little business
of the house interested him. He loved our cottage. He helped us to
furnish it, and to make the garden. Trees are growing now which he
planted. . . . He staid with us till the 29th of September, having come
to us about the end of January. During that time Mary Hutchinson--now
Mary Wordsworth--staid with us six weeks. John used to walk with her
everywhere, and they were exceedingly attached to each other; so my
poor sister mourns with us, not merely because we have lost one who
was so dear to William and me, but from tender love to John and an
intimate knowledge of him. Her hopes as well as ours were fixed on
John. . . . I can think of nothing but of our departed Brother, yet I am
very tranquil to-day. I honour him, and love him, and glory in his
memory. . . . "
Southey, writing to his friend, C. W. W. Wynn, on the 3rd of April 1805,
says:
"DEAR WYNN,
I have been grievously shocked this evening by the loss of the
'Abergavenny', of which Wordsworth's brother was captain. Of course
the news came flying up to us from all quarters, and it has disordered
me from head to foot. At such circumstances I believe we feel as much
for others as for ourselves; just as a violent blow occasions the same
pain as a wound, and he who breaks his shin feels as acutely at the
moment as the man whose leg is shot off. In fact, I am writing to you
merely because this dreadful shipwreck has left me utterly unable to
do anything else. It is the heaviest calamity Wordsworth has ever
experienced, and in all probability I shall have to communicate it to
him, as he will very likely be here before the tidings can reach him.
What renders any near loss of this kind so peculiarly distressing is,
that the recollection is perpetually freshened when any like event
occurs, by the mere mention of shipwreck, or the sound of the wind. Of
all deaths it is the most dreadful, from the circumstances of terror
which accompany it. . . . "
(See 'The Life and Correspondence of Robert Southey', vol. ii. p. 321. )
The following is part of a letter from Mary Lamb to Dorothy Wordsworth
on the same subject. It is undated:
"MY DEAR MISS WORDSWORTH,--
I wished to tell you that you would one day feel the kind of peaceful
state of mind and sweet memory of the dead, which you so happily
describe, as now almost begun; but I felt that it was improper, and
most grating to the feelings of the afflicted, to say to them that the
memory of their affliction would in time become a constant part, not
only of their dreams, but of their most wakeful sense of happiness.
[Variant 2:
1815.
And doth her best . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 3:
1837.
Makes efforts and complainings; nor gives o'er
Until her Fellow sunk, and reappear'd no more. 1807.
. . . sank, . . . 1820. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: In 1807 and 1815 the title was 'Incident, Characteristic of
a favourite Dog, which belonged to a Friend of the Author'. --Ed. ]
* * * * *
TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF THE SAME DOG
Composed 1805. --Published 1807
[Was written at the same time, 1805. The Dog Music died, aged and blind,
by falling into a draw-well at Gallow] Hill, to the great grief of the
family of the Hutchinsons, who, as has been before mentioned, had
removed to that place from Sockburn. --I. F. ]
One of the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection. "--Ed.
Lie [1] here, without a record of thy worth,
Beneath a [2] covering of the common earth!
It is not from unwillingness to praise,
Or want of love, that here no Stone we raise;
More thou deserv'st; but _this_ man gives to man, 5
Brother to brother, _this_ is all we can.
Yet [3] they to whom thy virtues made thee dear
Shall find thee through all changes of the year:
This Oak points out thy grave; the silent tree
Will gladly stand a monument of thee. 10
We grieved for thee, and wished thy end were past; [4]
And willingly have laid thee here at last:
For thou hadst lived till every thing that cheers
In thee had yielded to the weight of years;
Extreme old age had wasted thee away, 15
And left thee but a glimmering of the day;
Thy ears were deaf, and feeble were thy knees,--
I saw thee stagger in the summer breeze,
Too weak to stand against its sportive breath,
And ready for the gentlest stroke of death. 20
It came, and we were glad; yet tears were shed;
Both man and woman wept when thou wert dead;
Not only for a thousand thoughts that were,
Old household thoughts, in which thou hadst thy share;
But for some precious boons vouchsafed to thee, 25
Found scarcely any where in like degree!
For love, that comes wherever life and sense
Are given by God, in thee was most intense; [5]
A chain of heart, a feeling of the mind,
A tender sympathy, which did thee bind 30
Not only to us Men, but to thy Kind:
Yea, for thy fellow-brutes in thee we saw
A soul [6] of love, love's intellectual law:--
Hence, if we wept, it was not done in shame;
Our tears from passion and from reason came, 35
And, therefore, shalt thou be an honoured name!
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1: In the editions of 1807 to 1820 the following lines began
the poem. They were withdrawn in 1827.
Lie here sequester'd:--be this little mound
For ever thine, and be it holy ground! ]
[Variant 2:
1827.
Beneath the . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 3:
But . . . MS. ]
[Variant 4:
1837.
I pray'd for thee, and that thy end were past; 1807.
I grieved for thee, and wished thy end were past; 1820. ]
[Variant 5:
1837.
For love, that comes to all; the holy sense,
Best gift of God, in thee was most intense; 1807. ]
[Variant 6:
1837.
The soul . . . 1807. ]
* * * * *
TO THE DAISY (#4)
Composed 1805. --Published 1815
Placed by Wordsworth among his "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces. "--Ed.
Sweet Flower! belike one day to have
A place upon thy Poet's grave,
I welcome thee once more:
But He, who was on land, at sea,
My Brother, too, in loving thee, 5
Although he loved more silently,
Sleeps by his native shore.
Ah! hopeful, hopeful was the day
When to that Ship he bent his way,
To govern and to guide: 10
His wish was gained: a little time
Would bring him back in manhood's prime
And free for life, these hills to climb;
With all his wants supplied.
And full of hope day followed day 15
While that stout Ship at anchor lay
Beside the shores of Wight;
The May had then made all things green;
And, floating there, in pomp serene,
That Ship was goodly to be seen, 20
His pride and his delight!
Yet then, when called ashore, he sought
The tender peace of rural thought:
In more than happy mood
To your abodes, bright daisy Flowers! 25
He then would steal at leisure hours,
And loved you glittering in your bowers,
A starry multitude.
But hark the word! --the ship is gone;--
Returns from her long course: [1]--anon 30
Sets sail:--in season due,
Once more on English earth they stand:
But, when a third time from the land
They parted, sorrow was at hand
For Him and for his crew. 35
Ill-fated Vessel! --ghastly shock!
--At length delivered from the rock,
The deep she hath regained;
And through the stormy night they steer;
Labouring for life, in hope and fear, 40
To reach a safer shore [2]--how near,
Yet not to be attained!
"Silence! " the brave Commander cried;
To that calm word a shriek replied,
It was the last death-shriek. 45
--A few (my soul oft sees that sight)
Survive upon the tall mast's height; [3]
But one dear remnant of the night--
For Him in vain I seek.
Six weeks beneath the moving sea 50
He lay in slumber quietly;
Unforced by wind or wave
To quit the Ship for which he died,
(All claims of duty satisfied;)
And there they found him at her side; 55
And bore him to the grave.
Vain service! yet not vainly done
For this, if other end were none,
That He, who had been cast
Upon a way of life unmeet 60
For such a gentle Soul and sweet,
Should find an undisturbed retreat
Near what he loved, at last--
That neighbourhood of grove and field
To Him a resting-place should yield, 65
A meek man and a brave!
The birds shall sing and ocean make
A mournful murmur for _his_ sake;
And Thou, sweet Flower, shalt sleep and wake
Upon his senseless grave. [4] 70
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1837.
From her long course returns:--. . . 1815. ]
[Variant 2:
1837.
Towards a safer shore--. . . 1815. ]
[Variant 3:
1837
--A few appear by morning light,
Preserved upon the tall mast's height:
Oft in my Soul I see that sight; 1815. ]
[Variant 4: In the edition of 1827 and subsequent ones, Wordsworth here
inserted a footnote, asking the reader to refer to No. VI. of the "Poems
on the Naming of Places," beginning "When, to the attractions of the
busy world," p. 66. His note of 1837 refers also to the poem which there
precedes the present one, viz. the 'Elegiac Stanzas. '--Ed. ]
* * * * *
ELEGIAC STANZAS [A]
SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE, IN A STORM,
PAINTED BY SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT
Composed 1805. --Published 1807
[Sir George Beaumont painted two pictures of this subject, one of which
he gave to Mrs. Wordsworth, saying she ought to have it; but Lady
Beaumont interfered, and after Sir George's death she gave it to Sir
Uvedale Price, at whose house at Foxley I have seen it. --I. F. ]
Placed by Wordsworth among his "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces. "--Ed.
I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile!
Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee:
I saw thee every day; and all the while
Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea.
So pure the sky, so quiet was the air! 5
So like, so very like, was day to day!
Whene'er I looked, thy Image still was there;
It trembled, but it never passed away.
How perfect was the calm! it seemed no sleep;
No mood, which season takes away, or brings: 10
I could have fancied that the mighty Deep
Was even the gentlest of all gentle Things.
Ah! THEN, if mine had been the Painter's hand,
To express what then I saw; and add the gleam,
The light that never was, on sea or land, 15
The consecration, and the Poet's dream; [1]
I would have planted thee, thou hoary Pile
Amid a world how different from this!
Beside a sea that could not cease to smile;
On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss. 20
Thou shouldst have seemed a treasure-house divine [2]
Of peaceful years; a chronicle of heaven;--
Of all the sunbeams that did ever shine
The very sweetest had to thee been given.
A Picture had it been of lasting ease, 25
Elysian quiet, without toil or strife;
No motion but the moving tide, a breeze,
Or merely silent Nature's breathing life.
Such, in the fond illusion [3] of my heart,
Such Picture would I at that time have made: 30
And seen the soul of truth in every part,
A stedfast peace that might not be betrayed. [4]
So once it would have been,--'tis so no more;
I have submitted to a new control:
A power is gone, which nothing can restore; 35
A deep distress hath humanised my Soul.
Not for a moment could I now behold
A smiling sea, and be what I have been:
The feeling of my loss will ne'er be old;
This, which I know, I speak with mind serene. 40
Then, Beaumont, Friend! who would have been the Friend,
If he had lived, of Him whom I deplore,
This work of thine I blame not, but commend;
This sea in anger, and that dismal shore.
O 'tis a passionate Work! --yet wise and well, 45
Well chosen is the spirit that is here;
That Hulk which labours in the deadly swell,
This rueful sky, this pageantry of fear!
And this huge Castle, standing here sublime,
1 love to see the look with which it braves, 50
Cased in the unfeeling armour of old time,
The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves.
Farewell, farewell the heart that lives alone,
Housed in a dream, at distance from the Kind!
Such happiness, wherever it be known, 55
Is to be pitied; for 'tis surely blind.
But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer,
And frequent sights of what is to be borne!
Such sights, or worse, as are before me here. --
Not without hope we suffer and we mourn. 60
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1807.
and add a gleam,
The lustre, known to neither sea nor land,
But borrowed from the youthful Poet's dream; 1820.
. . . the gleam, 1827.
The edition of 1832 returns to the text of 1807. [a]]
[Variant 2:
1845.
. . . a treasure-house, a mine 1807.
The whole of this stanza was omitted in the editions of 1820-1843. ]
[Variant 3:
1815.
. . . delusion . . . 1807. ]
[Variant 4:
1837.
A faith, a trust, that could not be betray'd. 1807. ]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: The original title, in MS, was 'Verses suggested',
etc,--Ed. ]
* * * * *
SUB-FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Sub-Footnote a: Many years ago Principal Shairp wrote to me,
"Have you noted how the two lines, 'The light that never was,' etc. ,
stood in the edition of 1827? I know no other such instance of a
change from commonplace to perfection of ideality. "
The Principal had not remembered at the time that the "perfection of
ideality" was in the original edition of 1807. The curious thing is that
the prosaic version of 1820 and 1827 ever took its place. Wordsworth's
return to his original reading was one of the wisest changes he
introduced into the text of 1832. --Ed. ]
There is a Peele Castle, on a small rocky island, close to the town of
Peele, in the Isle of Man; yet separated from it, much as St. Michael's
Mount in Cornwall is separated from the mainland. This castle was
believed by many to be the one which Sir George painted, and which gave
rise to the foregoing lines. I visited it in 1879, being then ignorant
that any other Peele Castle existed; and although, the day being calm,
and the season summer, I thought Sir George had idealized his subject
much--(as I had just left Coleorton, where the picture still exists)--I
accepted the customary opinion. But I am now convinced, both from the
testimony of the Arnold family, [B] and as the result of a visit to Piel
Castle, near Barrow in Furness, that Wordsworth refers to it. The late
Bishop of Lincoln, in his uncle's 'Memoirs' (vol. i. p. 299), quotes the
line
"I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged pile,"
and adds,
"He had spent four weeks there of a college summer vacation at the
house of his cousin, Mr. Barker. "
This house was at Rampside, the village opposite Piel, on the coast of
Lancashire. The "rugged pile," too, now "cased in the unfeeling armour
of old time," painted by Beaumont, is obviously this Piel Castle near
Barrow. I took the engraving of his picture with me, when visiting it:
and although Sir George--after the manner of landscape artists of his
day--took many liberties with his subjects, it is apparent that it was
this, and not Peele Castle in Mona, that he painted. The "four summer
weeks" referred to in the first stanza, were those spent at Piel during
the year 1794.
With the last verse of these 'Elegiac Stanzas' compare stanzas ten and
eleven of the 'Ode, Intimations of Immortality', vol. viii.
One of the two pictures of "Peele Castle in a Storm"--engraved by S. W.
Reynolds, and published in the editions of Wordsworth's poems of 1815
and 1820--is still in the Beaumont Gallery at Coleorton Hall.
The poem is so memorable that I have arranged to make this picture of
"Peele Castle in a Storm," the vignette to vol. xv. of this edition. It
deserves to be noted that it was to the pleading of Barron Field that we
owe the restoration of the original line of 1807,
'The light that never was, on sea or land. '
An interesting account of Piel Castle will be found in Hearne and
Byrne's 'Antiquities'. It was built by the Abbot of Furness in the first
year of the reign of Edward III. --Ed.
[Footnote B: Miss Arnold wrote to me, in December 1893:
"I have never doubted that the Peele Castle of Wordsworth is the Piel
off Walney Island. I know that my brother Matthew so believed, and I
went with him some years ago from Furness Abbey over to Piel, visiting
it as the subject of the picture and the poem. "
Ed. ]
* * * * *
ELEGIAC VERSES,
IN MEMORY OF MY BROTHER, JOHN WORDSWORTH, COMMANDER OF THE E. I.
COMPANY'S SHIP, 'THE EARL OF ABERGAVENNY', IN WHICH HE PERISHED BY
CALAMITOUS SHIPWRECK, FEB. 6TH, 1805.
Composed near the Mountain track, that leads from Grasmere through
Grisdale Hawes, where it descends towards Patterdale.
Composed 1805. --Published 1842
[ "Here did we stop; and here looked round,
While each into himself descends. "
The point is two or three yards below the outlet of Grisedale Tarn, on a
foot-road by which a horse may pass to Patterdale--a ridge of Helvellyn
on the left, and the summit of Fairfield on the right. --I. F. ]
This poem was included among the "Epitaphs and Elegiac Pieces. "--Ed.
I The Sheep-boy whistled loud, and lo!
That instant, startled by the shock,
The Buzzard mounted from the rock
Deliberate and slow:
Lord of the air, he took his flight; 5
Oh! could he on that woeful night
Have lent his wing, my Brother dear,
For one poor moment's space to Thee,
And all who struggled with the Sea,
When safety was so near. 10
II Thus in the weakness of my heart
I spoke (but let that pang be still)
When rising from the rock at will,
I saw the Bird depart.
And let me calmly bless the Power 15
That meets me in this unknown Flower,
Affecting type of him I mourn!
With calmness suffer and believe,
And grieve, and know that I must grieve,
Not cheerless, though forlorn. 20
III Here did we stop; and here looked round
While each into himself descends,
For that last thought of parting Friends
That is not to be found.
Hidden was Grasmere Vale from sight, 25
Our home and his, his heart's delight,
His quiet heart's selected home.
But time before him melts away,
And he hath feeling of a day
Of blessedness to come. 30
IV Full soon in sorrow did I weep,
Taught that the mutual hope was dust,
In sorrow, but for higher trust,
How miserably deep!
All vanished in a single word, 35
A breath, a sound, and scarcely heard.
Sea--Ship--drowned--Shipwreck--so it came,
The meek, the brave, the good, was gone;
He who had been our living John
Was nothing but a name. 40
V That was indeed a parting! oh,
Glad am I, glad that it is past;
For there were some on whom it cast
Unutterable woe.
But they as well as I have gains;--45
From many a humble source, to pains
Like these, there comes a mild release;
Even here I feel it, even this Plant
Is in its beauty ministrant
To comfort and to peace. 50
VI He would have loved thy modest grace,
Meek Flower! To Him I would have said,
"It grows upon its native bed
Beside our Parting-place;
There, cleaving to the ground, it lies 55
With multitude of purple eyes,
Spangling a cushion green like moss;
But we will see it, joyful tide!
Some day, to see it in its pride,
The mountain will we cross. " 60
VII--Brother and friend, if verse of mine
Have power to make thy virtues known,
Here let a monumental Stone
Stand--sacred as a Shrine;
And to the few who pass this way, 65
Traveller or Shepherd, let it say,
Long as these mighty rocks endure,--
Oh do not Thou too fondly brood,
Although deserving of all good,
On any earthly hope, however pure! [A] 70
* * * * *
FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: See 2nd vol. of the Author's Poems, page 298, and 5th vol. ,
pages 311 and 314, among Elegiac Pieces. --W. W. 1842.
These poems are those respectively beginning:
"When, to the attractions of the busy world . . . "
"I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile! . . . "
"Sweet Flower! belike one day to have . . . "
Ed.
The plant alluded to is the Moss Campion (Silene acaulis, of Linnaeus).
See note at the end of the volume. --W. W. 1842.
See among the "Poems on the Naming of Places," No. VI. --W. W. 1845.
The note is as follows:
"Moss Campion ('Silene acaulis'). This most beautiful plant is scarce
in England, though it is found in great abundance upon the mountains
of Scotland. The first specimen I ever saw of it in its native bed was
singularly fine, the tuft or cushion being at least eight inches
diameter, and the root proportionably thick. I have only met with it
in two places among our mountains, in both of which I have since
sought for it in vain.
Botanists will not, I hope, take it ill, if I caution them against
carrying off inconsiderately rare and beautiful plants. This has often
been done, particularly from Ingleborough and other mountains in
Yorkshire, till the species have totally disappeared, to the great
regret of lovers of nature living near the places where they
grew. "--W. W. 1842.
See also 'The Prelude', book xiv. 1. 419, p. 379. --Ed. ]
This poem underwent no change in successive editions.
At a meeting of "The Wordsworth Society" held at Grasmere, in July 1881,
it was proposed by one of the members, the Rev. H. D. Rawnsley, then
Vicar of Wray, to erect some memorial at the parting-place of the
brothers. The brothers John and William Wordsworth parted at Grisedale
Tarn, on the 29th September 1800. The originator of the idea wrote thus
of it in June 1882:
"A proposition, made by one of its members to the Wordsworth Society
when it met in Grasmere in 1881, to mark the spot in the Grisedale
Pass of Wordsworth's parting from his brother John--and to carry out a
wish the poet seems to have hinted at in the last of his elegiac
verses in memory of that parting--is now being put into effect. It has
been determined, after correspondence with Lord Coleridge, Dr.
Cradock, Professor Knight, and Mr. Hills, to have inscribed--(on the
native rock, if possible)--the first four lines of Stanzas III. and
VII. of these verses:
'Here did we stop; and here looked round
While each into himself descends,
For that last thought of parting Friends
That is not to be found.
. . .
Brother and friend, if verse of mine
Have power to make thy virtues known,
Here let a monumental Stone
Stand--sacred as a Shrine. '
The rock selected is a fine mass, facing the east, on the left of the
track as one descends from Grisedale Tarn towards Patterdale, and is
about 100 yards from the tarn. No more suitable one can be found, and
we have the testimony of Mr. David Richardson of Newcastle, who has
practical knowledge of engineering, that it is the fittest, both from
shape and from slight incline of plane.
It has been proposed to sink a panel in the face of the rock, that so
the inscription may be slightly protected, and to engrave the letters
upon the face of the panel thus obtained. But it is not quite certain
yet that the grain of the rock--volcanic ash--will admit of the
lettering. If this cannot be carried out, it has been determined to
have the letters engraved upon a slab of Langdale slate, and imbed it
in the Grisedale Rock.
It is believed that the simplicity of the design, the lonely isolation
of this mountain memorial, will appeal at once
' . . . to the few who pass this way,
Traveller or Shepherd. '
And we in our turn appeal to English tourists who may chance to see
it, to forego the wish of adding to it, or taking anything from it, by
engraving their own names; and to let the Monumental Stone stand, as
the poet wished it might
' . . . stand, SACRED as a Shrine. '
We owe great thanks to Mrs. Sturge for first surveying the place, to
ascertain the possibility of finding a mountain rock sufficiently
striking in position; to Mr. Richardson, jun. , for his etching of the
rock, upon which the inscription is to be made; to his father for the
kind trouble he took in the measurement of the said rock; and
particularly to the seconder of the original proposal, and my
coadjutor in the task of final selection and superintending the work,
Mr. W. H. Hills.
H. D. RAWNSLEY.
_P. S. _--When we came to examine the rock, we found the area for the
panel less than we had hoped for, owing to certain rock fissures,
which, by acting as drains for the rainwater on the surface, would
have much interfered with the durability of the inscription. The
available space for the panel remains 3 feet 7 in length by 1 foot 9
inches in depth. Owing to the fineness of the grain of the stone, it
may be quite possible to letter the native rock; but it has been
difficult to fix on a style of lettering for the inscription that
shall be at once in good taste, forcible, and plain. It was proposed
that the Script type of letter which was made use of in the
inscription cut on the rock, in the late Mr. Ball's garden grounds
below the Mount at Rydal, should be adopted; but a final decision has
been given in favour of a style of lettering which Mrs. Rawnsley has
designed. The panel is, from its position, certain to attract the eye
of the wanderer from Patterdale up to the Grisedale Pass.
H. D. R. "
See the note to 'The Waggoner', p. 112, referring to the Rock of Names,
on the shore of Thirlmere.
The following extract from 'Recollections from 1803 to 1837, with a
Conclusion in 1868, by the Hon. Amelia Murray' (London: Longmans, Green,
and Co. 1868)--refers to the loss of the 'Abergavenny':
"One morning, coming down early, I saw what I thought was a great big
ship without any hull. This was the 'Abergavenny', East Indiaman,
which had sunk with all sails set, hardly three miles from the shore,
and all on board perished.
Had any of the crew taken refuge in the main-top, they might have been
saved; but the bowsprit, which was crowded with human beings, gave a
lurch into the sea as the ship settled down, and thus all were washed
off--though the timber appeared again above water when the
'Abergavenny' touched the ground. The ship had sprung a leak off St.
Alban's Head; and in spite of pumps, she went to the bottom just
within reach of safety. " Pp. 12, 13.
A 'Narrative of the loss of the "Earl of Abergavenny" East Indiaman, off
Portland, Feb. 5, 1805', was published in pamphlet form (8vo, 1805), by
Hamilton and Bird, 21 High Street, Islington.
For much in reference to John Wordsworth, which illustrates both these
'Elegiac Verses', and the poem "On the Naming of Places" which follows
them, I must refer to his 'Life' to be published in another volume of
this series; but there is one letter of Dorothy Wordsworth's, written to
her friend Miss Jane Pollard (afterwards Mrs. Marshall), in reference to
her brother's death, which may find a place here. For the use of it I am
indebted to the kindness of Mrs. Marshall's daughter, the Dowager Lady
Monteagle:
"March 16th, 1805. Grasmere.
". . . It does me good to weep for him, and it does me good to find that
others weep, and I bless them for it. . . . It is with me, when I write,
as when I am walking out in this vale, once so full of joy. I can turn
to no object that does not remind me of our loss. I see nothing that
he would not have loved, and enjoyed. . . . My consolations rather come
to me in gusts of feeling, than are the quiet growth of my mind. I
know it will not always be so. The time will come when the light of
the setting sun upon these mountain tops will be as heretofore a pure
joy; not the same _gladness_, that can never be--but yet a joy even
more tender. It will soothe me to know how happy he would have been,
could he have seen the same beautiful spectacle. . . . He was taken away
in the freshness of his manhood; pure he was, and innocent as a child.
Never human being was more thoroughly modest, and his courage I need
not speak of. He was 'seen speaking with apparent cheerfulness to the
first mate a few minutes before the ship went down;' and when nothing
more could be done, He said, 'the will of God be done. ' I have no
doubt when he felt that it was out of his power to save his life he
was as calm as before, if some thought of what we should endure did
not awaken a pang. . . . He loved solitude, and he rejoiced in society.
He would wander alone amongst these hills with his fishing-rod, or led
on by the mere pleasure of walking, for many hours; or he would walk
with W. or me, or both of us, and was continually pointing out--with a
gladness which is seldom seen but in very young people--something
which perhaps would have escaped our observation; for he had so fine
an eye that no distinction was unnoticed by him, and so tender a
feeling that he never noticed anything in vain. Many a time has he
called out to me at evening to look at the moon or stars, or a cloudy
sky, or this vale in the quiet moonlight; but the stars and moon were
his chief delight. He made of them his companions when he was at sea,
and was never tired of those thoughts which the silence of the night
fed in him. Then he was so happy by the fireside. Any little business
of the house interested him. He loved our cottage. He helped us to
furnish it, and to make the garden. Trees are growing now which he
planted. . . . He staid with us till the 29th of September, having come
to us about the end of January. During that time Mary Hutchinson--now
Mary Wordsworth--staid with us six weeks. John used to walk with her
everywhere, and they were exceedingly attached to each other; so my
poor sister mourns with us, not merely because we have lost one who
was so dear to William and me, but from tender love to John and an
intimate knowledge of him. Her hopes as well as ours were fixed on
John. . . . I can think of nothing but of our departed Brother, yet I am
very tranquil to-day. I honour him, and love him, and glory in his
memory. . . . "
Southey, writing to his friend, C. W. W. Wynn, on the 3rd of April 1805,
says:
"DEAR WYNN,
I have been grievously shocked this evening by the loss of the
'Abergavenny', of which Wordsworth's brother was captain. Of course
the news came flying up to us from all quarters, and it has disordered
me from head to foot. At such circumstances I believe we feel as much
for others as for ourselves; just as a violent blow occasions the same
pain as a wound, and he who breaks his shin feels as acutely at the
moment as the man whose leg is shot off. In fact, I am writing to you
merely because this dreadful shipwreck has left me utterly unable to
do anything else. It is the heaviest calamity Wordsworth has ever
experienced, and in all probability I shall have to communicate it to
him, as he will very likely be here before the tidings can reach him.
What renders any near loss of this kind so peculiarly distressing is,
that the recollection is perpetually freshened when any like event
occurs, by the mere mention of shipwreck, or the sound of the wind. Of
all deaths it is the most dreadful, from the circumstances of terror
which accompany it. . . . "
(See 'The Life and Correspondence of Robert Southey', vol. ii. p. 321. )
The following is part of a letter from Mary Lamb to Dorothy Wordsworth
on the same subject. It is undated:
"MY DEAR MISS WORDSWORTH,--
I wished to tell you that you would one day feel the kind of peaceful
state of mind and sweet memory of the dead, which you so happily
describe, as now almost begun; but I felt that it was improper, and
most grating to the feelings of the afflicted, to say to them that the
memory of their affliction would in time become a constant part, not
only of their dreams, but of their most wakeful sense of happiness.
