[CHAPTER III.]
RACEDOWN AND ALFOXDEN.
To all lovers of Wordsworth it is well known how, while he was yet undecided as to his future calling, he went to nurse a young friend named Raisley Calvert, who was afflicted with a malady which threatened to prove fatal, and by whose side he felt it his duty to remain. After a protracted illness his friend died, and bequeathed him a legacy of £900. It is probable that in this generous act, to which Wordsworth has more than once recorded his indebtedness, Mr. Calvert was actuated by mixed motives; that it was to be regarded not only as an expression of gratitude, but that he also perceived in his friend talents which others were slow to recognise, and desired thus to provide him with the means of devoting himself, at any rate for a time, to the pursuit of poetry. However this may be, the incident cannot but be regarded as a link in the chain of providential circumstances which combined to prepare the poet for his future high calling. It is not, however, intended in this sketch to refer to Wordsworth himself more than is necessary for the purpose of elucidating any events in the life and character of his sister, or of tracing her influence upon him. Having thus obtained the means of livelihood for a few years, one of their cherished hopes was realised. His childhood's playmate became his constant and lifelong companion, devoting herself to him and his interests and aims as only a noble woman could have done.
At what a critical time Miss Wordsworth thus entered more closely into the life of her brother we learn from his biography, as well as from his works. Dejected and despondent by reason of the scenes of which he had been an eyewitness in France, and the terrible days which followed, Wordsworth was at this time greatly in danger of becoming misanthropic, and of giving way to a melancholy which might have coloured all his life, and deprived his works of the healthful and educating influence which they breathe. All disappointment and sorrow may become the precursor of blessing, the mother of a great hope. It is the bruised herb that exudes its fragrance; the broken heart that, when bound, pulsates most truly. It was a saying of Goethe that he never had an affliction which did not turn into a poem. But disappointment may also be the parent of gloom, and pave the way to a spirit of morose indifference. At such junctures a life may, by the skilful leading of a wise affection, be saved for beauty and happiness, for greater good and more exalted attainment and enjoyment, by reason of the very sorrow which, unhallowed, would have plunged it into bitterness.
However much Wordsworth's goodness of heart and ardent love of Nature helped to protect him, it was at this critical period that he was chiefly indebted to the soothing and cheering power of his sister for uplifting him from the gloom which had gathered around him, and for restoring and maintaining that equable frame of mind which from thenceforth unvaryingly characterised him. Her clear insight and womanly instinct at this time saw deeper into the sources of real satisfaction; and her helpful and healing sympathy came to his aid. By her tact she led him from the distracting cares of political agitation to those more elevating and satisfying influences which an ardent and contemplative love of Nature and poetry cultivate, and which sweet and kindred human affections strengthen and develop. It remained for Miss Wordsworth, if not to awaken, to draw out and stimulate her brother's better nature, to deaden what was unworthy, and to encourage, by tender care and patient endeavour, that higher life towards which his mind and soul were turned. She became, and for many years continued to be, the loadstar of his existence, and affords one of the most pleasing instances of sisterly devotion and fidelity on record. In her brother was verified the poet's prophecy:—
"True heart and shining star shall guide thee right."
Well was it for Wordsworth, and for us, that he had a sister, and that it was to this brother—one after her own heart—she at this juncture devoted herself. In this we may see another of the providential circumstances that beset the career of Wordsworth. As Spenser says:—
"It chanced—
Eternal God that chance did guide."
Writing of Miss Wordsworth at this time, her nephew, the late Bishop of Lincoln, says: "She was endowed with tender sensibility, with an exquisite perception of beauty, with a retentive recollection of what she saw, with a felicitous tact in discerning and admirable skill in delineating natural objects with graphic accuracy and vivid gracefulness. She weaned him from contemporary politics, and won him to beauty and truth."