book xii
. l. 293)
The following extract from a letter of Mr. Rawnsley's casts important light on a difficult question of localization. Dr. Cradock is inclined now to select the Outgate Crag, the second of the four places referred to by Mr. Rawnsley. But the first may have been the place, and the extract which follows will show how much is yet to be done in this matter of localizing poetical allusions.
"As to
'the crag, That, from the meeting-point of two highways Ascending, overlooked them both, far stretched,'
there seems to be no doubt but that we have four competitors for the honour of being the place to which the poet:
'impatient for the sight Of those led palfreys that should bear them home'
repaired with his brothers
'one Christmas-time, On the glad eve of its dear holidays.'
And unless, as it seems is quite possible, from what one sees in other of Wordsworth's poems, he really stood on one of the crags, and then in his description drew the picture of the landscape at his feet from his memory of what it was as seen from another of the vantage places, we need a high crag, rising gradually or abruptly from the actual meeting-place of two highways, with, if possible at this distance of time, a wall--or traces of it--quite at its summit. (I may mention that the wallers in this country still give two hundred years as the length of time that a dry wall will stand.) We need also traces of an old thorn tree close by. The wall, too, must be so placed on the summit of the crag that, as it faces the direction in which the lad is looking for his palfrey, it shall afford shelter to him against
'the sleety rain, And all the business of the elements.'
It is evident that the lad would be looking out in a north-easterly direction, i. e. towards the head of Windermere and Ambleside. So that
'the mist, That on the line of each of those two roads Advanced in such indisputable shapes,'
was urged by a wind that found the poet at his look-out station, glad to have the wall between him and it. Further, there must be in close proximity wood and the sound of rushing water, or the lapping of a lake wind-driven against the marge, for the boy remembers that 'the bleak music from that old stone wall' was mingled with 'the noise of wood and water.' The roads spoken of must be two highways, and must be capable of being seen for some distance; unless, as it is just possible, the epithet 'far-stretched' may be taken as applying not so much to the roads, as to the gradual ascent of the crag from the meeting-place of the two highways.
The scene from the crag must be extended, and half plain half wood-land; at least one gathers as much from the lines:
'as the mist Gave intermitting prospect of the copse And plain beneath.'
Lastly, it was a day of driving sleet and mist, and this of itself would necessitate that the poet and his brothers should only go to the place close to which the ponies must pass, or from which most plainly the roads were visible.
The boys too were
'feverish, and tired, and restless,'
and a schoolboy, to gain his point on such a day and on such an errand, does not take much account of a mile of country to be travelled over.
So that it is immaterial, I think, to make the distance from Hawkshead of either of the four crags or vantage grounds a factor in decision.
The farther the lads were from home when they met their ponies, the longer ride back they would have, and this to schoolboys is matter of consideration at such times.
Taking then a survey of the ground of choice, we have to decide whether the crag in question is situated at the first division or main split of the road from Ambleside furthest from Hawkshead, or whether at the place where the two roads converge again into one nearer Hawkshead.
Whether, that is, the crag above the Pullwyke quarry, at the junction of the road to Water Barngates and the road to Wray and Outgate is to be selected, about two miles from Hawkshead; or whether we are to fix on the spot you have chosen, at the point about a mile north-east of Hawkshead, 'called in the ordnance map Outgate.'
Of the two I incline to the former, for these reasons. The boys could not be so certain of 'not missing the ponies', at any other place than here at Pullwyke.
The crag exactly answers the poet's description, a rising ground, the meeting-place of two highways. For in the poet's time the old Hawkshead and Outgate road at the Pullwyke corner ran at the very foot of the rising ground (roughly speaking) parallel to and some 60 to 100 yards west of the present road from the Pull to Wray.
It is true that no trace of wall is visible at its summit, but the summit has been planted since with trees, and walls are often removed at time of planting.
The poet would have a full view of the main road, down to, and round, the Pullwyke Bay; he would see the branch road from the fork, as it mounted the Water Barngates Hill, to the west, and would see the other road of the fork far-stretched and going south.
He would also have an extended view of copse and meadow land. He might, if the wind were south-easterly, hear the noise of Windermere, sobbing in the Pullwyke Bay, and would without doubt hear also the roar of the Pull Beck water, as it passed down from the Ironkeld slopes on his left towards the lake.
It might be objected that the poem gives us the idea of a crag which, from the Hawkshead side at any rate, would require to be of more difficult ascent than this is, to justify the idea of difficulty as suggested in the lines:
'thither I repaired, Scout-like, and gained the summit;'
but I do not think we need read more into the lines than that the boy felt--as he scanned the country with his eyes, on the 'qui vive' at every rise in the ground--the feelings of a scout, who questions constantly the distant prospect.
And certainly the Pullwyke quarry crag rises most steeply from the meeting-point of the two highways.
Next as to the Outgate crag, which you have chosen. I am out of love with it. First, if the lads wanted to make sure of the ponies, they would not have ascended it, but would have stayed just at the Hawkshead side of Outgate, or at the village itself, at the point of convergence of the ways.
Secondly, the crag can hardly be described as rising from the meeting-point of two highways; only one highway passes near it.
The crag is of so curious a formation geologically, that I can't fancy the poet describing his memory of it, without calling it a terraced hill, or an ascent by natural terraces.
Then, again, the prospect is not sufficiently extended from it. The stream not near enough, or rather not of size enough, to be heard. Blelham Tarn is not too far to have added to the watery sound, it is true, but the wind we suppose to have been north-east, and the sound of the Blelham Tarn would be much carried away from him.
The present stone wall is not near the summit, and is of comparatively recent date. It is difficult to believe from the slope of the outcrop of rock that a wall could ever have been at the summit.
But there are two other vantage grounds intermediate between those extremes, both of which were probably in the mind and memory of the poet as he described the scene, and
'The intermitting prospect of the copse. And plain beneath,'
allowed him by the mist. One of these is the High Crag, about three-quarters of a mile from the divergence or convergence of the two highways, which Dr. Cradock has selected.
There can be no doubt that this is the crag 'par excellence' for a wide and extended look-out over all the country between Outgate and Ambleside. Close at its summit there remain aged thorn trees, but no trace of a wall.
But High Crag can hardly be said to have risen at 'the meeting-point of two highways,' unless we are to understand the epithet 'far-stretched' as applying to the south-western slopes or skirts of the hill; and the two highways, the roads between Water Barngates on the west, and the bridle road between Pullwyke and Outgate at their Outgate junction, and this is rather too far a stretch.
It is quite true that if bridle paths can be described as highways, there may be said to be a meeting-point of these close at the north-eastern side of the crag.
But, remembering that the ponies came from Penrith, the driver was not likely to have had any intimate knowledge of these bridle paths; while, at the same time, on that misty day, I much question whether the boys on the look-out at High Crag could have seen ponies creeping along between walled roads at so great a distance as half a mile or more.
And this would seem to have been the problem for them on that day.
I ought in fairness to say that it is not likely that the roads were then (as to-day) walled up high on either side. To-day, even from the summit of High Crag, only the head and ears of a pony could be seen as it passed up the Water Barngates Road; but at the end of last century many of the roads were only partially walled off from the moorlands they passed over in the Lake Country.
Still, as I said, High Crag was a point of vantage that the poet, as a lad, must have often climbed, in this part of the country, if he wanted to indulge in the delights of panoramic scene.
There is a wall some hundred yards from the summit, on the south-westerly flank of High Crag; near this--at a point close by, two large holly trees--the boy might have sheltered himself against the north-eastern wind, and have got a closer and better view of the road between Barngates and Outgate, and Randy Pike and Outgate.
Here, too, he could possibly hear the sound of the stream in the dingle or woody hollow immediately at his feet; but I am far from content with this as being the spot the poet watched from.
There is again a fourth possible look-out place, to which you will remember I directed your attention, nearer Randy Pike. The slope, covered with larches, rises up from the Randy Pike Road to a precipitous crag which faces north and east.
From this, a grand view of the country between Randy Pike and Pullwyke is obtained, and if the bridle paths might--as is possible, but unlikely--be called two highways, then this crag could be spoken of as rising from the meeting place of the two highways. For the old Hawkshead Road passed along to the east, within calling distance (say ninety yards), and a bridle road from Pullwyke, now used chiefly by the quarrymen, passed within eighty yards to the west; while it is certain that the brook below, when swollen by winter rains, might be loud enough to be heard from the copse. This crag is known as Coldwell or Caudwell Crag, and is situated about half a mile east-south-east of the High Crag.
It has this much in its favour, that a wall of considerable age crests its summit, and one can whilst sitting down on a rock close behind it be sheltered from the north and east, and yet obtain an extensive view of the subadjacent country. IF it were certain that the ponies when they got to Pullwyke did not go up towards Water Barngates, and so to Hawkshead, then there is no crag in the district which would so thoroughly answer to all the needs of the boys, and to all the points of description the poet has placed on record.
But it is just this IF that makes me decide on the Pullwyke Crag--the one first described--as being the actual spot to which, scout-like, the schoolboys clomb, on that eventful 'eve of their dear holidays;' while, at the same time, it is my firm conviction that Wordsworth--as he painted the memories of that event--had also before his mind's eye the scene as viewed from Coldwell and High Crag."
Ed.
* * * * *
NOTE VI.--COLERIDGE'S LINES TO WORDSWORTH, ON HEARING 'THE PRELUDE' RECITED BY HIM AT COLEORTON, IN 1806
The following is a copy of a version of these 'Lines', sent by Coleridge to Sir George Beaumont, at Dunmow, Essex, in January, 1807. The variations, both in the title and in the text, from that which Coleridge finally adopted (see p. 129), are interesting in many ways:
LINES
To William Wordsworth: Composed for the greater part on the same night after the finishing of his recitation of the Poem, in Thirteen Books, on the growth of his own mind.
O Friend! O Teacher! God's great Gift to me! Into my Heart have I received that Lay More than historic, that prophetic Lay Wherein (high theme by thee first sung aright) Of the foundations and the building up 5 Of thine own spirit thou hast loved to tell What _may_ be told, by words revealable: With heavenly breathings, like the secret soul Of vernal growth, oft quickening in the heart Thoughts, that obey no mastery of words, 10 Pure Self-beholdings! Theme as hard as high, Of Smiles spontaneous and mysterious Fear! The first born they of Reason and twin birth! Of tides obedient to external force, And currents self-determin'd, as might seem, 15 Or by some inner power! Of moments awful, Now in thy hidden life, and now abroad, When power stream'd from thee, and thy soul receiv'd The light reflected, as a light bestow'd! Of fancies fair, and milder hours of youth, 20 Hybloean murmurs of poetic thought Industrious in its joy, in vales and glens Native or outland, Lakes and famous Hills; Or on the lonely high-road, when the stars Were rising; or by secret mountain streams, 25 The guides and the companions of thy way! Of more than Fancy--of the SOCIAL SENSE Distending, and of Man belov'd as Man, Where France in all her Towns lay vibrating, Even as a Bark becalm'd on sultry seas 30 Quivers beneath the voice from Heaven, the burst Of Heaven's immediate thunder, when no cloud Is visible, or shadow on the main! For thou wert there, thy own brows garlanded, Amid the tremor of a Realm aglow! 35 Amid a mighty nation jubilant! When from the general Heart of Human Kind Hope sprang forth, like an armed Deity! Of that dear Hope afflicted and struck down, So summon'd homeward; thenceforth calm and sure, 40 As from the Watch-tower of Man's absolute Self, With light unwaning on her eyes, to look Far on--herself a Glory to behold, The Angel of the Vision! Then (last strain) Of Duty, chosen Laws controlling choice, 45
## Action and Joy!--an Orphic Tale indeed,
A Tale divine of high and passionate Thoughts, To their own Music chaunted!--
A great Bard! Ere yet the last strain dying awed the air, With steadfast eyes I saw thee in the choir 50 Of ever-enduring men. The truly Great Have all one age, and from one visible space Shed influence: for they, both power and act, Are permanent, and Time is not with them, Save as it worketh for them, they in it. 55 Nor less a sacred Roll, than those of old, And to be plac'd, as they, with gradual fame Among the Archives of Mankind, thy Work Makes audible a linked Song of Truth, Of Truth profound a sweet continuous Song 60 Not learnt, but native, her own natural notes! Dear shall it be to every human heart, To me how more than dearest! Me, on whom Comfort from thee, and utterance of thy Love, Come with such Heights and Depths of Harmony 65 Such sense of Wings uplifting, that its might Scatter'd and quell'd me, till my Thoughts became A bodily Tumult; and thy faithful Hopes, Thy Hopes of me, dear Friend! by me unfelt! Were troublous to me, almost as a Voice 70 Familiar once and more than musical; As a dear Woman's Voice to one cast forth, [A] A Wanderer with a worn-out heart forlorn, Mid Strangers pining with untended wounds.
O Friend! too well thou know'st, of what sad years 75 The long suppression had benumbed my soul, That, even as Life returns upon the Drown'd, The unusual Joy awoke a throng of Pains-- Keen Pangs of LOVE, awakening, as a Babe, Turbulent, with an outcry in the Heart! 80 And Fears self-will'd, that shunn'd the eye of Hope, And Hope, that scarce would know itself from Fear; Sense of past youth, and manhood come in vain, And Genius given and Knowledge won in vain; And all, which I had cull'd in wood-walks wild, 85 And all, which patient Toil had rear'd, and all, Commune with THEE had open'd out--but Flowers Strew'd on my Corse, and borne upon my Bier, In the same Coffin, for the self-same Grave!
That way no more! and ill beseems it me, 90 Who came a Welcomer, in Herald's Guise, Singing of Glory and Futurity, To wander back on such unhealthful road Plucking the Poisons of Self-harm! And ill Such intertwine beseems triumphal wreaths 95 Strew'd before thy advancing! Thou too, Friend! Impair thou not the memory of that hour Of thy Communion with my nobler mind By pity or grief, already felt too long! Nor let my words import more blame than needs. 100 The tumult rose and ceas'd: for Peace is nigh Where Wisdom's voice has found a list'ning Heart. Amid the howl of more than wintry storms The Halcyon hears the Voice of vernal Hours, Already on the wing!
Eve following Eve 105 Dear tranquil Time, when the sweet sense of Home Is sweetest! Moments, for their own sake hail'd, And more desired, more precious for thy Song! In silence listening, like a devout child, My soul lay passive, by the various strain 110 Driven as in surges now, beneath the stars With momentary [B] stars of her [C] own birth, Fair constellated Foam, still darting off Into the Darkness; now a tranquil Sea, Outspread and bright, yet swelling to the Moon. 115
And when--O Friend! my Comforter! my [D] Guide! Strong in thyself and powerful to give strength!-- Thy long sustained Song finally clos'd, And thy deep voice had ceas'd--yet thou thyself Wert still before mine eyes, and round us both 120 That happy Vision of beloved Faces-- (All whom, I deepliest love--in one room all!) Scarce conscious and yet conscious of its close I sate, my Being blended in one Thought, (Thought was it? or aspiration? or resolve?) 125 Absorb'd; yet hanging still upon the Sound-- And when I rose, I found myself in Prayer.
S. T. COLERIDGE.
'Jany'. 1807.
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: Different reading on same MS.:
'To one cast forth, whose Hope had seem'd to die.'
Ed.]
[Footnote B: Compare, as an illustrative note, the descriptive passage in Satyrane's first Letter in 'Biographia Literaria', beginning, "A beautiful white cloud of foam," etc.--S.T.C.]
[Footnote C: Different reading on same MS., "'my'."--Ed.]
[Footnote D: Different reading on same MS., "'and'."--Ed.]
In a MS. copy of 'Dejection, An Ode', transcribed for Sir George Beaumont on the 4th of April 1802--and sent to him, when living with Lord Lowther at Lowther Hall--there is evidence that the poem was originally addressed to Wordsworth.
The following lines in this copy can be compared with those finally adopted:
'O dearest William! in this heartless mood, To other thoughts by yonder throstle woo'd All this long eve so balmy and serene Have I been gazing on the western sky,'
...
'O William, we _receive_ but what we _give_: And in our life alone does Nature live.'
...
'Yes, dearest William! Yes! There was a time when though my Path was rough This Joy within me dallied with distress.'
The MS. copy is described by Coleridge as "imperfect"; and it breaks off abruptly at the lines:
'Suspends what Nature gave me at my birth My shaping spirit of Imagination.'
And he continues:
'I am so weary of this doleful poem, that I must leave off....'
Another MS. copy of this poem, amongst the Coleorton papers, is signed "S. T. Coleridge to William Wordsworth." Ed.
* * * * *
NOTE VII.--GENERAL BEAUPUY
(See pp. 297 and 302, 'The Prelude',