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CHAPTER VIII.

THE ARCHITECTURE OF THE LIFE.

"The correspondence between Wordsworth and Milton must be sought in their genius; not in the scale of their genius, equal though I deem it to be, nor yet in the kind of their genius, for though they have much in common, each has much that is peculiar; but in their lofty veneration for their genius as an emanation (from) rather than a gift of the eternal light; both writing under a sense of sacred duty, duty to God and Man, with a regal sense of irresponsibility to any number of individuals, Wordsworth alone, of all the followers of Milton, had a right to appropriate his 'Fit audience may I find though few."

HARTLEY COLERIDGE.-Notes on the Poets.

"Wordsworth is a genius superior to us, in so far as he can more than we make discoveries and shed a light on them. Here I must think he is deeper than Milton, though I think he has depended more upon the general and gregarious advance of intellect, than individual greatness of mind."

JOHN KEATS.-Letters.

"But something whispers to my heart,

That as we downwards tend,

Lycoris' life requires an art

To which our souls must bend.

Oh! 'tis the heart that magnifies this life,

Making a truth and beauty of her own."

LYCORIS.

"The faith heaven strengthens where he moulds the creed."

We must now return from the Land of Wordsworth and from readings, and illustrations of the peculiarities of his genius, again to the current of his life and his

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HIS ESTIMATE OF LIFE.

domestic and personal history. Our last notices left him sorrowing over the death of his brother Captain Wordsworth. That death wrought very abiding impressions on his character; and beneath the influence of the softening feelings, the bereavement produced, he wrote the close of his posthumous poem, the Prelude. This was the work of the year 1805. The original plan was modified; it had been his intention to have called the poem known by the name of the Excursion, "The Pedlar," title at the alteration of which every admirer of the poet must rejoice, and which perhaps resulted from the unyielding pertinacity with which he adhered to his first impressions and principles, connected with the exaltation of lowly life and humble labour, writing to Sir George Beaumont in 1805 he says,

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My dear Sir George, I write to you from the moss hut at the top of my orchard, the sun just sinking behind the hills in front of the entrance, and his light falling upon the green moss on the side opposite me. A linnet is singing in the tree above, and the children of some of our neighbours who have been to-day little James's visitors, are playing below, equally noisy and happy. The green fields in the level area of the vale, and part of the lake, lie before me in quietness. I have just been reading two newspapers full of factious brawls about Lord Melville and his delinquencies, ravage of the French in the West Indies, victories of the English in the East, fleets of ours roaming the sea in search of enemies whom they cannot find, etc., etc., and I have asked myself more than once lately, if my affections

LETTER TO LADY BEAUMONT.

389

can be in the right place, caring as I do so little about what the world seems to care so much for. All this seems a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.' It is pleasant in such a mood to turn ones thoughts to a good man and a dear friend, I have therefore taken up the pen to write to you."

How clearly Wordsworth comprehended his work as a poet, is seen too in a very admirable letter written to Lady Beaumont; indeed the letter is more than admirable, it thrills the thoughtful reader like one of those prophecies in which genius ante-dates the period of its final triumph and success, it is written in 1807. We must quote some passages from it, as they very strikingly illustrate his moral history, and his abiding faith in the purpose, and the mission of his inspiration. "It is impossible that any expectations can be lower than mine concerning the immediate effect of this little work upon what is called the public. I do not here take into consideration the envy and malevolence, and all the bad passions which always stand in the way of a work of merit from a living poet, but merely think of the pure, absolute, honest ignorance in which all worldlings of every rank and situation must be enveloped, with respect to the thoughts, feelings, and images, on which the life of my poems depends. The things which I have taken, whether from within or without, what have they to do with routs, dinners, morning calls, hurry from door to door, from street to street, on foot or in carriage, with Mr. Pitt, or Mr. Fox, Mr. Paul, or Sir Francis Burdett, the Westminster Election or the borough of

390

HIS ESTIMATE OF HIS OWN POEMS.

Honiton? In a word, for I cannot stop to make my way through the hurry of images that present themselves to me. What have they to do with endless talking about things nobody cares any thing for, except as far as their own vanity is concerned, and this with persons they care nothing for, but as their vanity or their selfishness is concerned? What have they to do, to say all at once, with a life without love? In such a life there can be no thought, for we have no thought (save thoughts of pain) but as far as we have love and admiration.

"It is an awful truth, that there neither is, nor can be any genuine enjoyment of poetry among nineteen out of twenty of those persons who live, or wish to live, in the broad light of the world; among those who either are, or are striving to make themselves people of consideration in Society.

"This is a truth, and an awful one, because to be incapable of a feeling of poetry, in any sense of the word, is to be without love of human nature, and reverence for God."

"Upon this I shall insist elsewhere, at present let me confine myself to my object, which is to make you, my dear friend, as easy hearted as myself with respect to these poems. Trouble not yourself upon their present reception; of what moment is that compared with what I trust is their destiny? to console the afflicted; to add sunshine to daylight, by making the happy happier; to teach the young and the gracious of every age to see, to think, and to feel, and therefore to become more ac

WORDSWORTH A GARDENER.

391

tively and securely virtuous; this is their office, which I trust they will faithfully perform long after we (that is, all that is mortal of us) are mouldered in our graves. I am well aware how far it would seem to many I overrate my own exertions, when I speak in this way in direct connection with the volume I have just made public; I am not however afraid of such censure, insignificant as probably the majority of those poems would appear to very respectable persons. I do not mean London wits and witlings, for these have too many foul passions about them to be respectable, even if they had more intellect than the benign laws of providence will allow to such a heartless existence as theirs; but grave, kindly-natured, worthy persons, who would be pleased if they could."

It was Wordsworth's opinion, and one in which he was assuredly right, that he was especially fitted for the calling of a landscape gardener. In the earlier part of his life his powers in this department were called in requisition by his friend Sir George Beaumont, for the gardens and grounds of Coleorton in Leicestershire; this led to several letters, (which are in fact essays) to Sir George upon gardening. Into this pursuit we must notice how, as in every thing else, he carries the spirit of his religion; he very beautifully says, "All first and solid pleasure in natural objects rests upon two pillars, God and Man. Laying out grounds as it is called, may be considered as a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting, and its object, like that of all the liberal arts, is, or ought to be to move the affections,

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