Memoirs of William Wordsworth

by George S. Phillips

Returning to the platform of grey gravel before the house, we pass under the shade of a fine sycamore, and ascend to the westward by fourteen steps of stones, about nine feet long, in the interstices of which grow the yellow flowering poppy, and the wild geranium, or Poor Robin,

‘Gay
With his red stalks, upon a sunny day,’

a favourite with the poet, as his verses show.—The steps above, northward, lead to an upward sloping terrace, about two hundred and fifty feet long. On the right side it is shaded by laburnums, Portugal laurels, mountain-ash, and fine walnut-trees and cherries; on the left it is flanked by a low stone wall, coped with rude slates, and covered with lichens, mosses, and wild-flowers. The fern waves on the walls, and at its base grows the wild-strawberry and foxglove. Beneath this wall, and parallel to it, on the left, is a level terrace, constructed by the poet for a friend most dear to him and his,—who, for the last twenty years of Mr. Wordsworth’s life, was often a visitor at Rydal Mount. The terrace was a favourite resort of the poet, being more easy for pacing to and fro, when old age began to make him feel the acclivity of the other terrace to be toilsome. Both these terraces command beautiful views of the vale of the Rothsay, and the banks of the lake of Windermere.”

Then we have a description of Rydal Lake, and of the “long, wooded, and rocky hill of Loughrigg beyond, and above it,” as seen from an orifice on the ascending terrace; of the beautiful sycamore close to the arbour, the fine firs in the foreground, and the dark woods of fir, ash, oak, hazel, holly, and birch, on the right and left; of the “Far Ferrdel on the mountain’s side,” a little to the right of the “ascending terrace”—which, after a serpentine course of one hundred and fifty feet, terminates at a little gate, close to the “Nab Well,” where the poet was wont to quaff his daily libations. Another walk from the arbour leads to a field, sloping down to the valley, called “Dora’s field,” and on the right is a rude stone, bearing this inscription—

“In these fair vales hath many a tree
At Wordsworth’s suit been spared;
And from the builder’s hand this stone,
For some rude beauty of its own,
Was rescued by the bard.
So let it rest, and time will come,
When here, the tender-hearted,
May heave a gentle sigh for him,
As one of the departed.”

A pond containing gold fish, underneath a large oak, close to the gate which leads to this “Dora’s field,” completes the inventory of the external features of Rydal Mount.

It was in the spring of 1811 that Wordsworth left Allan Bank, and took up his temporary residence at the Parsonage, Grasmere. But the death of his children, Catharine and Thomas, which occurred in 1812, threw so melancholy a gloom over the neighbourhood, that he resolved to quit it altogether. It was not, however, without many painful feelings of regret that he bade adieu to the beautiful scenery in the vale of Grasmere—scenery which he had so long loved—every feature of which was as familiar to him as the faces of the dear children whom he had committed for ever to its quiet keeping. The step, however, was absolutely necessary, as he himself says in a letter to the Earl of Lonsdale, for the recurrence of that tranquillity of mind which it was his duty, and that of his surviving family, to strive for. Accordingly he removed to Rydal Mount, in 1813, where he resided until his death, in 1850. It was in that year—1813—that he received the appointment of Distributor of Stamps in the County of Westmoreland, which has already been alluded to, in the extracts made from the “Reminiscences” of De Quincy.

This appointment, for which he was mainly indebted to Lord Lonsdale, placed the poet in easy if not affluent circumstances, and enabled him to follow his art without anxiety respecting worldly matters,—a condition which the poet improved to his own honour, and to the public advantage. Some time after this good fortune had befallen him, he was offered the collectorship of the town of Whitehaven, an office far more lucrative than the other; but the poet declined it. He had now sufficient for his necessities, and no pecuniary inducement could avail with him to quit the sweet retirement of the lakes. He was fortunate, also—and De Quincy was right in saying that he was always fortunate, for Good Luck “threw her old shoe after him” wherever he went—in securing about this time the services of Mr. John Carter, as coadjutor in the stamp-office. Dr. Wordsworth speaks in the highest terms of this gentleman, who, for thirty-seven years, served the poet “faithfully and zealously, and who added to his business qualifications, those of sound scholarship and judicious criticism.”

Thus happily circumstanced, Wordsworth continued to write poetry, and to make more tours, as his fancy dictated. In 1814, he again visited Scotland, in company with his wife, his wife’s sister, and Miss Mary Hutchinson. The poems produced on this tour were “The Brownie’s Cell,” “Cora Linn,” “Effusions on the Banks of the Bran, near Dunkeld,” and “Sonnet to Mr. Gillies.” The following note, upon the poem “Yarrow Visited,” is of great interest. It is Wordsworth who writes.

“As mentioned in my verses on the death of the Ettrick Shepherd, my first visit to Yarrow was in his company. We had lodged the night before at Traquhar, where Hogg had joined us, and also Dr. Anderson, the editor of ‘The British Poets,’ who was on a visit at the manse. Dr. Anderson walked with us till we came in view of the Vale of Yarrow, and being advanced in life he then turned back. The old man was passionately fond of poetry, though with not much of a discriminating judgment, as the volumes he edited sufficiently shows; but I was much pleased to meet with him, and to acknowledge my obligation to his collection, which had been my brother John’s companion in more than one voyage to India, and which he gave me before his departure from Grasmere—never to return. Through these volumes I became first familiar with Chaucer; and so little money had I then to spare for books, that in all probability, but for this same work, I should have known little of Drayton, Daniel, and other distinguished poets of the Elizabethan age, and their immediate successors, till a much later period of my life. I am glad to record this, not for any importance of its own, but as a tribute of gratitude to this simple-hearted old man, whom I never again had the pleasure of meeting. I seldom read or think of this poem without regretting that my dear sister was not of the party, as she would have been so much delighted in recalling the time when, travelling together in Scotland, we declined going in search of this celebrated stream, not altogether, I will frankly confess, for the reasons assigned in the poem on the occasion.”