EXTRACTS FROM DOROTHY WORDSWORTH'S JOURNAL, WRITTEN AT GRASMERE May 14th, 1800.-Wm. and John set off into Yorkshire after dinner at half-past two o'clock, cold pork in their pockets. I left them at the turning of the Lowwood bay under the trees. My heart was so full that I could hardly speak to W. when I gave him a farewell kiss. I sate a long time upon a stone at the margin of the lake, and after a flood of tears my heart was easier. The lake looked to me, I knew not why, dull and melancholy, and the weltering on the shores seemed a heavy sound. I walked as long as I could amongst the stones of the shore. The wood rich in flowers; a beautiful yellow (palish yellow) flower, that looked thick, round, and double-and smelt very sweet (I supposed it was a ranunculus), crowfoot, the grassy-leaved rabbit-toothed white flower, strawberries, geraniums, scentless violets, anemones (two kinds), orchises, primroses, the heckberry very beautiful, the crab coming out as a low shrub. Met a blind man, driving a very large beautiful bull, and a cow. He walked with two sticks. Came home by Clappersgate. The valley very green; many sweet views up to Rydale, when I could juggle away the fine houses; but they disturbed me, even more than when I have been happier; one beautiful view of the bridge, without Sir Michael's.1 Sate down very often, though it 1 i.e. Rydal Hall, the residence of Sir Michael le Fleming.ED. was cold. I resolved to write a journal of the time till W. and J. return, and I set about keeping my resolve, because I will not quarrel with myself, and because I shall give William pleasure by it when he comes home again. At Rydale, a woman of the village, stout and well dressed, begged a half-penny. She had never she said done it before, but these hard times! Arrived at home, set some slips of privet, the evening cold, had a fire, my face now flame-coloured. It is nine o'clock. I shall now go to bed. . . . Oh that I had a letter from William. Friday Morning, 16th.-Warm and mild, after a fine night of rain. . . . The woods extremely beautiful with all autumnal variety and softness. I carried a basket for mosses, and gathered some wild plants. Oh! that we had a book of botany. All flowers now are gay and deliciously sweet. The primrose still pre-eminent among the later flowers of the spring. Foxgloves very tall, with their heads budding. I went forward round the lake at the foot of Loughrigg Fell. I was much amused with the busyness of a pair of stone-chats; their restless voices as they skimmed along the water, following each other, their shadows under them, and their returning back to the stones on the shore, chirping with the same unwearied voice. Could not cross the water, so I went round by the stepping-stones. . . . Rydale was very beautiful, with spear-shaped streaks of polished steel. . . . Grasmere very solemn in the last glimpse of twilight. It calls home the heart to quietness. I had been very melancholy in my walk back. I had many of my saddest thoughts, and I could not keep the tears within But when I came to Grasmere I felt that it did me good. I finished my letter to M. H. . . me. Saturday. Incessant rain from morning till night. Worked hard, and read Midsummer Night's Dream, and ballads. Sauntered a little in the garden. The skobby sate quietly in its nest, rocked by the wind, and beaten by the rain. Sunday, 18th.-Went to church, slight showers, a cold air. The mountains from this window look much greener, and I think the valley is more green than ever. The corn begins to shew itself. The ashes are still bare. A little girl from Coniston came to beg. She had lain out all night. Her step-mother had turned her out of doors; her father could not stay at home" she flights so." Walked to Ambleside in the evening round the lake, the prospect exceeding beautiful from Loughrigg Fell. It was so green that no eye could weary of reposing upon it. The most beautiful situation for a house in the field next to Mr. Benson's. I was overtaken by two Cumberland people who complimented me upon my walking. They were going to sell cloth, and odd things which they make themselves, in Hawkshead and the neighbourhood. . . . Letters from Coleridge and Cottle. John Fisher 1 overtook me on the other side of Rydale. He talked much about the alteration in the times, and observed that in a short time there would be only two ranks of people, the very rich and the very poor, "for those who have small estates," says he, "are forced to sell, and all the land goes into one hand." Did not reach home till ten o'clock. Monday.-Sauntered a good deal in the garden, bound carpets, mended old clothes, read Timon of Athens, dried linen. . . . Walked up into the Black Quarter.2 I sauntered a long time among the rocks above the church. The most delightful situation possible 1 Their neighbour at Town-End, who helped Wordsworth to make the steps up to the orchard, in Dove Cottage garden.-ED. 2 I think that this name was given to a bit of the valley to the north-east of Grasmere village; but Mr. Gordon Wordsworth's opinion is that "The Black Quarter' was simply the family nickname for Easedale. The phrase seems to disappear from the Journals as they got more accustomed to local names. It is an excellent description of the usual appearance of these fells, and makes a contrast to the name of the White Moss, which lay behind Dove Cottage; as Easedale lay in front, and was equally in their thoughts."-ED. D |