W. WORDSWORTH.
61. Of Collins, Dyer, Thomson, &c.
LETTER TO REV. ALEXANDER DYCE.
Rydal Mount, Kendal, Jan. 12. 1829.
DEAR SIR,
I regret to hear of the indisposition from which you have been suffering.
That you are convinced gives me great pleasure, as I hope that every other editor of Collins will follow your example. You are at perfect liberty to declare that you have rejected Bell’s copy in consequence of my opinion of it; and I feel much satisfaction in being the instrument of rescuing the memory of Collins from this disgrace. I have always felt some concern that Mr. Home, who lived several years after Bell’s publication, did not testify more regard for his deceased friend’s memory by protesting against this imposition. Mr. Mackenzie is still living; and I shall shortly have his opinion upon the question; and if it be at all interesting, I shall take the liberty of sending it to you.
Dyer is another of our minor poets — minor as to quantity — of whom one would wish to know more. Particulars about him might still be collected, I should think, in South Wales, his native country, and where in early life he practised as a painter. I have often heard Sir George Beaumont express a curiosity about his pictures, and a wish to see any specimen of his pencil that might survive. If you are a rambler, perhaps you may, at some time or other, be led into Carmarthenshire, and might bear in mind what I have just said of this excellent author.
I had once a hope to have learned some unknown particulars of Thomson, about Jedburgh, but I was disappointed. Had I succeeded, I meant to publish a short life of him, prefixed to a volume containing ‘The Seasons,’ ‘The Castle of Indolence,’ his minor pieces in rhyme, and a few extracts from his plays, and his ‘Liberty;’ and I feel still inclined to do something of the kind. These three writers, Thomson, Collins, and Dyer, had more poetic imagination than any of their contemporaries, unless we reckon Chatterton as of that age. I do not name Pope, for he stands alone, as a man most highly gifted; but unluckily he took the plain when the heights were within his reach.
Excuse this long letter, and believe me,
Sincerely yours,
WM. WORDSWORTH.
62. Verses and Counsels.
LETTER TO PROFESSOR HAMILTON, OBSERVATORY, DUBLIN.
Rydal Mount, July 24. 1820.
MY DEAR SIR,
I have been very long in your debt. An inflammation in my eyes cut me off from writing and reading, so that I deem it still prudent to employ an Amanuensis; but I had a more decisive reason for putting off payment, nothing less than the hope that I might discharge my debt in person: it seems better, however, to consult you beforehand. I wish to make a Tour in Ireland, and perhaps along with my daughter, but I am ignorant of so many points, as where to begin, whether it be safe at this rioting period, what is best worth seeing, what mode of travelling will furnish the greatest advantages at the least expense. Dublin of course — the Wicklow mountains — Killarney Lakes — and I think the ruins not far from Limerick would be among my objects, and return by the North; but I can form no conjecture as to the time requisite for this, and whether it would be best to take the steamboat from Liverpool to Cork, beginning there, or to go from Whitehaven to Dublin. To start from Whitehaven by steam to Dublin would suit me as being nearer this place and a shorter voyage; besides my son is settled near Whitehaven, and I could conveniently embark from his abode.
I have read with great pleasure the ‘Sketches in Ireland’ which Mr. Otway was kind enough to present to me; but many interesting things he speaks of in the West will be quite out of my reach. In short I am as unprepared with Tourists’ information as any man can be, and sensible as I am of the very great value of your time, I cannot refrain from begging you to take pity upon my ignorance and to give me some information, keeping in mind the possibility of my having a female companion.
It is time to thank you for the verses you so obligingly sent me.
Your sister’s have abundance of spirit and feeling; all that they want is what appears in itself of little moment, and yet is of incalculably great, — that is, workmanship, — the art by which the thoughts are made to melt into each other, and to fall into light and shadow, regulated by distinct preconception of the best general effect they are capable of producing. This may seem very vague to you, but by conversation I think I could make it appear otherwise. It is enough for the present to say that I was much gratified, and beg you would thank your sister for favouring me with the sight of compositions so distinctly marked with that quality which is the subject of them [‘Genius’]. Your own verses are to me very interesting, and affect me much as evidences of high and pure-mindedness, from which humble-mindedness is inseparable. I like to see and think of you among the stars, and between death and immortality, where three of these poems place you. The ‘Dream of Chivalry’ is also interesting in another way; but it would be insincere not to say that something of a style more terse, and a harmony more accurately balanced, must be acquired before the bodily form of your verses will be quite worthy of their living soul. You are probably aware of this, tho’ perhaps not in an equal degree with myself; nor is it desirable you should, for it might tempt you to labour, which would divert you from subjects of infinitely greater importance.
Many thanks for your interesting account of Mr. Edgeworth. I heartily concur with you in the wish that neither Plato nor any other profane author may lead him from the truths of the Gospel, without which our existence is an insupportable mystery to the thinking mind.
Looking for a reply at your early convenience,
I remain, my dear Sir, faithfully, your obliged
WM. WORDSWORTH.
63. ‘Annuals’ and publishing Roguery.
LETTER TO C. HUNTLY GORDON, ESQ. Rydal Mount, July 29. 1829.
MY DEAR SIR,
I hope you have enjoyed yourself in the country, as we have been doing among our shady woods, and green hills, and invigorated streams. The summer is passing on, and I have not left home, and perhaps shall not; for it is far more from duty than inclination that I quit my dear and beautiful home; and duty pulls two ways. On the one side my mind stands in need of being fed by new objects for meditation and reflection, the more so because diseased eyes have cut me off so much from reading; and, on the other hand, I am obliged to look at the expense of distant travelling, as I am not able to take so much out of my body by walking as heretofore.
I have not got my MS. back from the — — , whose managers have, between them, used me shamefully; but my complaint is principally of the editor, for with the proprietor I have had little direct connection. If you think it worth while, you shall, at some future day, see such parts of the correspondence as I have preserved. Mr. Southey is pretty much in the same predicament with them, though he has kept silence for the present.... I am properly served for having had any connection with such things. My only excuse is, that they offered me a very liberal sum, and that I have laboured hard through a long life, without more pecuniary emolument than a lawyer gets for two special retainers, or a public performer sometimes for two or three songs. Farewell; pray let me hear from 3-011 at your early convenience,
And believe me faithfully your
Much obliged
WM. WORDSWORTH.
64. Works of George Peele.
LETTER TO REV. ALEXANDER DYCE.
Rydal Mount, Kendal, Oct. 16. 1829.
MY DEAR SIR,
On my return from Ireland, where I have been travelling a few weeks, I found your present of George Peele’s works, and the obliging letter accompanying it; for both of which I offer my cordial thanks.
English literature is greatly indebted to your labours; and I have much pleasure in this occasion of testifying my respect for the sound judgment and conscientious diligence with which you discharge your duty as an editor. Peele’s works were well deserving of the care you have bestowed upon them; and, as I did not previously possess a copy of any part of them, the beautiful book which you have sent me w
as very acceptable.
By accident, I learned lately that you had made a Book of Extracts, which I had long wished for opportunity and industry to execute myself. I am happy it has fallen into so much better hands. I allude to your Selections from the Poetry of English Ladies. I had only a glance at your work; but I will take this opportunity of saying, that should a second edition be called for, I should be pleased with the honour of being consulted by you about it. There is one poetess to whose writings I am especially partial, the Countess of Winchelsea. I have perused her poems frequently, and should be happy to name such passages as I think most characteristic of her genius, and most fit to be selected.
I know not what to say about my intended edition of a portion of Thomson. There appears to be some indelicacy in one poet treating another in that way. The example is not good, though I think there are few to whom the process might be more advantageously applied than to Thomson. Yet, so sensible am I of the objection, that I should not have entertained the thought, but for the expectation held out to me by an acquaintance, that valuable materials for a new Life of Thomson might be procured. In this I was disappointed.
With much respect, I remain, dear Sir,
Sincerely yours,
WM. WORDSWORTH.
65. Of Lady Winchelsea, Tickell, &c.: Sonnets, &c.
LETTER TO REV. ALEXANDER DYCE.
Rydal Mount, Kendal, May 10. 1830.
MY DEAR SIR,
My last was, for want of room, concluded so abruptly, that I avail myself of an opportunity of sending you a few additional words free of postage, upon the same subject.
I observed that Lady Winchelsea was unfortunate in her models — Pindarics and Fables; nor does it appear from her Aristomenes that she would have been more successful than her contemporaries, if she had cultivated tragedy. She had sensibility sufficient for the tender parts of dramatic writing, but in the stormy and tumultuous she would probably have failed altogether. She seems to have made it a moral and religious duty to control her feelings lest they should mislead her. Of love, as a passion, she is afraid, no doubt from a conscious inability to soften it down into friendship. I have often applied two lines of her drama (p. 318) to her affections:
‘Love’s soft bands, His gentle cords of hyacinths and roses, Wove in the dewy Spring when storms are silent.’
By the by, in the next page are two impassioned lines spoken to a person fainting:
‘Then let me hug and press thee into life, And lend thee motion from my beating heart.’
From the style and versification of this, so much her longest work, I conjecture that Lady Winchelsea had but a slender acquaintance with the drama of the earlier part of the preceding century. Yet her style in rhyme is often admirable, chaste, tender, and vigorous, and entirely free from sparkle, antithesis, and that overculture, which reminds one, by its broad glare, its stiffness, and heaviness, of the double daisies of the garden, compared with their modest and sensitive kindred of the fields. Perhaps I am mistaken, but I think there is a good deal of resemblance in her style and versification to that of Tickell, to whom Dr. Johnson justly assigns a high place among the minor poets, and of whom Goldsmith rightly observes, that there is a strain of ballad-thinking through all his poetry, and it is very attractive. Pope, in that production of his boyhood, the ‘Ode to Solitude,’ and in his ‘Essay on Criticism,’ has furnished proofs that at one period of his life he felt the charm of a sober and subdued style, which he afterwards abandoned for one that is, to my taste at least, too pointed and ambitious, and for a versification too timidly balanced.
If a second edition of your ‘Specimens’ should be called for, you might add from Helen Maria Williams the ‘Sonnet to the Moon,’ and that to ‘Twilight;’ and a few more from Charlotte Smith, particularly,
‘I love thee, mournful, sober-suited Night.’
At the close of a sonnet of Miss Seward are two fine verses:
‘Come, that I may not hear the winds of night. Nor count the heavy eave-drops as they fall.’
You have well characterised the poetic powers of this lady; but, after all, her verses please me, with all their faults, better than those of Mrs. Barbauld, who, with much higher powers of mind, was spoiled as a poetess by being a dissenter, and concerned with a dissenting academy. One of the most pleasing passages in her poetry is the close of the lines upon ‘Life,’ written, I believe, when she was not less than eighty years of age:
‘Life, we have been long together,’ &c.
You have given a specimen of that ever-to-be-pitied victim of Swift, ‘Vanessa.’ I have somewhere a short piece of hers upon her passion for Swift, which well deserves to be added. But I am becoming tedious, which you will ascribe to a well-meant endeavour to make you some return for your obliging attentions.
I remain, dear Sir, faithfully yours,
WM. WORDSWORTH.
66. Hamilton’s ‘Spirit of Beauty:’ Verbal Criticism: Female Authorship: Words.
Where there is so much sincerity of feeling in a matter so dignified as the renunciation of poetry for science, one feels that an apology is necessary for verbal criticism. I will therefore content myself with observing that ‘joying’ for joy or joyance is not to my taste. Indeed I object to such liberties upon principle. We should soon have no language at all if the unscrupulous coinage of the present day were allowed to pass, and become a precedent for the future. One of the first duties of a Writer is to ask himself whether his thought, feeling, or image cannot be expressed by existing words or phrases, before he goes about creating new terms, even when they are justified by the analogies of the language. ‘The cataract’s steep flow’ is both harsh and inaccurate: ‘thou hast seen me bend over the cataract’ would express one idea in simplicity and all that was required. Had it been necessary to be more particular, ‘steep flow’ are not the words that ought to have been used. I remember Campbell says in a composition that is overrun with faulty language, ‘And dark as winter was the flow of Iser rolling rapidly;’ that is, ‘flowing rapidly.’ The expression ought to have been ‘stream’ or ‘current...’ These may appear to you frigid criticisms, but depend upon it no writings will live in which these rules are disregarded....
Female authorship is to be shunned as bringing in its train more and heavier evils than have presented themselves to your sister’s ingenuous mind. No true friend I am sure will endeavour to shake her resolution to remain in her own quiet and healthful obscurity. This is not said with a view to discourage her from writing, nor have the remarks made above any aim of the kind; they are rather intended to assist her in writing with more permanent satisfaction to herself. She will probably write less in proportion as she subjects her feelings to logical forms, but the range of her sensibilities so far from being narrowed will extend as she improves in the habit of looking at things thro’ a steady light of words; and, to speak a little metaphysically, words are not a mere vehicle, but they are powers either to kill or animate.
67. His ‘Play:’ Hone: Eyesight failing, &c.
TO CHARLES LAMB, ESQ.
Jan. 10. 1830.
MY DEAR LAMB,
A whole twelvemonth have I been a letter in your debt, for which fault I have been sufficiently punished by self-reproach.
I liked your Play marvellously, having no objection to it but one, which strikes me as applicable to a large majority of plays, those of Shakspeare himself not entirely excepted — I mean a little degradation of character for a more dramatic turn of plot. Your present of Hone’s book was very acceptable; and so much so, that your part of the book is the cause why I did not write long ago. I wished to enter a little minutely into notice of the dramatic extracts, and, on account of the smallness of the print, deferred doing so till longer days would allow me to read without candle-light, which I have long since given up. But, alas! when the days lengthened, my eyesight departed, and for many months I could not read three minutes at a time. You will be sorry to hear that this infirmity still hangs about me, and almost cuts me off
from reading altogether. But how are you, and how is your dear sister? I long much, as we all do, to know.
For ourselves, this last year, owing to my sister’s dangerous illness, the effects of which are not yet got over, has been an anxious one and melancholy. But no more of this. My sister has probably told everything about the family; so that I may conclude with less scruple, by assuring you of my sincere and faithful affection for you and your dear sister.
WM. WORDSWORTH.
68. Summer: Mr. Quillinan: Draining, &c.
LETTER TO G. HUNTLY GORDON, ESQ.
Rydal Mount, April 6. 1830.
MY DEAR MR. GORDON,
You are kind in noticing with thanks my rambling notes.
We have had here a few days of delicious summer weather.
It appeared with the suddenness of a pantomimic trick, stayed longer than we had a right to expect, and was as rapidly succeeded by high wind, bitter cold, and winter snow, over hill and dale.
I am not surprised that you are so well pleased with Mr. Quillinan. The more you see of him the better you will like him. You ask what are my employments. According to Dr. Johnson they are such as entitle me to high commendation, for I am not only making two blades of grass grow where only one grew before, but a dozen. In plain language, I am draining a bit of spungy ground. In the field where this goes on I am making a green terrace that commands a beautiful view of our two lakes, Rydal and Windermere, and more than two miles of intervening vale with the stream visible by glimpses flowing through it. I shall have great pleasure in showing you this among the other returns which I hope one day to make for your kindness.
Delphi Complete Works of William Wordsworth Page 418
