I proposed to myself when I began to write this letter, namely, that of setting down a few hints or memorandums, which you will think of for my sake. "I have often applied to idiots, in my own mind, that sublime expression of scripture that their life is hidden with God.' They are worshipped, probably from a feeling of this sort, in several parts of the East. Among the Alps, where they are numerous, they are considered, I believe, as a blessing to the family to which they belong. I have, indeed, often looked upon the conduct of fathers and mothers of the lower classes of society towards idiots as the great triumph of the human heart. It is there that we see the strength, disinterestedness, and grandeur of love; nor have I ever been able to contemplate an object that calls out so many excellent and virtuous sentiments without finding it hallowed thereby, and having something in me which bears down before it, like a deluge, every feeble sensation of disgust and aversion. "There are, in my opinion, several important mistakes in the latter part of your letter which I could have wished to notice; but I find myself much fatigued. These refer both to the Boy and the Mother. I must content myself simply with observing that it is probable that the principal cause of your dislike to this particular poem lies in the word Idiot. If there had been any such word in our language, to which we had attached passion, as lack-wit, half-wit, witless, &c., I should have certainly employed it in preference; but there is no such word. Observe (this is entirely in reference to this particular poem), my 'Idiot' is not one of those who cannot articulate, and such as are usually disgusting in their persons: เ • Whether in cunning or in joy, And then his words were not a few,' &c. The and the last speech at the end of the poem. Boy' whom I had in my mind was by no means disgusting in his appearance, quite the contrary; and I have known several with imperfect faculties, who are handsome in their persons and features. There is one, at present, within a mile of my own house, remarkably so, though [he has something] of a stare and vacancy in his countenance. in his countenance. A friend of mine, knowing that some persons had a dislike to the poem, such as you have expressed, advised me to add a stanza, describing the person of the Boy [so as] entirely to separate him in the imaginations of my readers from that class of idiots who are disgusting in their persons; but the narration in the poem is so rapid and impassioned, that I could not find a place in which to insert the stanza without checking the progress of it, and [so leaving] a deadness upon the feeling. This poem has, I know, frequently produced the same effect as it did upon you and your friends; but there are many also to whom it affords exquisite delight, and who, indeed, prefer it to any other of my poems. This proves that the feelings there delineated are such as men may sympathise with. This is enough for my purpose. It is not enough for me as a Poet, to delineate merely such feelings as all men do sympathise with; but it is also highly desirable to add to these others, such as all men may sympathise with, and such as there is reason to believe they would be better and more moral beings if they did sympathise with. "I conclude with regret, because I have not said one half of [what I intended] to say; but I am sure you will deem my excuse sufficient, [when I] inform you that that my head aches violently, and I am in other respects unwell. I must, however, again give you my warmest thanks for your kind letter. I shall be happy to hear from you again: and do not think it unreasonable that I should request a letter from you, when I feel that the answer which I may make to it will not perhaps be above three or four lines. This I mention to you with frankness, and you will not take it ill after what I have before said of my remissness in writing letters. "I am, dear Sir, "With great respect, "W. WORDSWORTH." 201 CHAPTER XIX. MARRIAGE. THE preceding chapter brought Mr. Wordsworth to the eve of one of the most eventful eras of his life— his Marriage. This is a subject on which no one can speak but in his own language; "a stranger intermeddleth not with his joy." But it may serve a useful purpose to refer to his words. His marriage was full of blessings to himself, as ministering to the exercise of his tender affections, in the discipline and delight which married life supplies. The boon bestowed on him in the marriage-union was admirably adapted to shed a cheering and soothing influence upon his mind. And by the language in which he speaks of the blessing which he then received, he displays an example of true conjugal affection, graced with sweet and endearing charms of exquisite delicacy. He has thus rendered great service to society, which cannot too frequently be reminded how much of its happiness depends on the mutual love of married persons, and on the dignity and purity of that estate which was instituted by Almighty God in the time of man's innocency. But let us listen to the Poet's own language. His marriage was founded on early intimacy, as the lines already noticed in "The Prelude" intimate.1 Let us 1 See Prelude, p. 144., "Another maid there was," &c. pass, then, at once, to that beautiful poem, mentioned in the last chapter, "The Farewell," in which he expresses his feelings on quitting the cottage of Grasmere, with his sister, before his marriage1: "Farewell! thou little nook of mountain-ground, Will come to you, to you herself will wed, The beauty of this poem depends much on its being read, as the author observes generally, with a full appreciation of, and sympathy in, the emotion with which it was written. A knowledge of the circumstances under which it was composed is necessary. This remark applies to many other poems of the author; and if, by supplying the clue to these circumstances, the present work can enhance the pleasure and profit to be derived from them, its end is attained. Let me next invite the reader to peruse the expressions poured forth from the author's heart in the lines "She was a Phantom of delight," "2 |