The Ballad of Dorothy Wordsworth
An absorbing examination of the unusual life of Dorothy Wordsworth.
Dorothy Wordsworth has long been one of the great mysteries of English literature. A woman praised for her 鈥渨ild and startling鈥� eyes, a being 鈥渁ll fire, and ... ardour,鈥� she inspired some of Britain鈥檚 best known poetry. Her journals, letters, and poems 鈥� famed for the lucid quality of Dorothy鈥檚 nature writing 鈥� have been in print for decades.
And yet William Wordsworth鈥檚 beloved sister remains to us a cipher. Her 鈥淕rasmere Journals鈥� are 鈥渞egarded as an English national treasure,鈥� writes literary biographer Frances Wilson in The Ballad of Dorothy Wordsworth, her absorbing examination of this peculiar life. 鈥淏ut their greatness as literature is agreed upon without anyone鈥檚 being able to say what they are actually about or what type of woman it was who wrote them.鈥�
When we think of Dorothy today, it tends to be in one of two extreme versions: either as a sprite-like child of nature or a personality-free spinster. One of the strengths of Wilson鈥檚 book is her willingness to accept rather than attempt to reconcile Dorothy鈥檚 numerous contradictions.
鈥淪he was a small woman 鈥� under five feet tall 鈥� with a wiry frame,鈥� writes Wilson. 鈥淪he was never beautiful.鈥� Or was she? 鈥淚f you expected to see a pretty woman, you would think her ordinary,鈥� wrote Samuel Coleridge, literary titan and bosom friend of both Dorothy and William. 鈥淚f you expected to find an ordinary woman, you would think her pretty.鈥�
Dorothy鈥檚 contradictions were not confined to her looks. She was, it seems, both deeply giving and blindly self-absorbed, effortlessly athletic and frequently sickly, daringly unconventional and cautiously retiring.
The facts of Dorothy鈥檚 life offer only limited help in gaining understanding.
She was born in 1771 and was only 6 when her mother died. Her brother William and their siblings stayed with their father, but Dorothy was sent to live with an aunt. The aunt was kindly, yet most biographers (Wilson included) agree that Dorothy never recovered from that early separation.
Dorothy was an adult before she was able to permanently reunite with William. He was by then an unusual young man, a loner with few obvious assets. Yet the two quickly became inseparable and Dorothy soon left her more respectable relatives to cast her lot with him.
When the family fretted about the wild fashion in which she and her penniless brother were 鈥渞ambling about the country on foot,鈥� she gamely defended her own 鈥渃ourage to make use of the strength with which nature has endowed me,鈥� adding that this chance to enjoy her brother鈥檚 company was 鈥渁n opportunity which I could not see pass from me without unspeakable pain.鈥�
Dorothy鈥檚 faith in her brother was, of course, richly rewarded. From 1799 to 1802 they lived together in the mountains of the Lake District as he churned out some of Britain鈥檚 most revered verse. Her own poetic sensibility 鈥� and the descriptions of nature in her journals 鈥� was clearly integral to her brother鈥檚 creative process.
In effect, says Wilson, Dorothy and William became 鈥渁 single poetic voice.鈥�
They roamed the countryside gazing on nature鈥檚 glory and debating poetics with Coleridge, Thomas De Quincey, and others.
Those short years were the high point of Dorothy鈥檚 life. Yet her journal entries chronicling those glorious days are oddly opaque. She is a sensitive observer of the natural world around her, but gives away little or nothing of her own interior.
She describes a domestic life that mingles the mundane with the esoteric. (Wilson calls it 鈥渁 routine of mutton and moonscapes, walking and headaches, watching and waiting, pie baking and poem making.鈥�)
Once in a while, however, there is a sentence in Dorothy鈥檚 journals that draws back a curtain on the almost scary depths of her feeling for her brother. 鈥淭he fire flutters & the watch ticks I hear nothing save the Breathings of my Beloved & now and then he pushes his book forward & turns over a leaf.鈥�
Were Dorothy鈥檚 feelings incestuous? It was an unusual attachment, to be sure, and even in its time it aroused gossip. But Wilson, to her credit, doesn鈥檛 force conclusions, suggesting instead that the bond between these orphaned siblings is perhaps something that the rest of us cannot fully understand.
Certainly among the strangest pages of Dorothy鈥檚 journals are those that describe the day of William鈥檚 wedding 鈥� an event Dorothy could not bring herself to attend. (Although she slept the night before wearing his wedding ring.) And yet she seems to have lived peacefully with her sister-in-law, Mary, for the rest of their lives.
On the subject of Mary, Wilson seems prone to reaching for conclusions undefended by much evidence. 鈥淢ary ... was ... at ease in her own sexuality.鈥� How do we know this?
Or, when Dorothy calls Mary 鈥渄ear,鈥� Wilson sees it as 鈥渕ore a recognition of rivalry.鈥� It's an interesting idea 鈥� but in this case seems nothing better than a supposition. Such moments are unfortunate intrusions in a narrative otherwise more sensitive and skilled.
There is little dramatic arc to the second half of Dorothy鈥檚 life. She never left William and Mary. It was finally William who left the women, dying four years before Dorothy and nine before Mary.
The final years of Dorothy鈥檚 life were not happy ones. She was an invalid and mentally addled much of the time. The woman whom more than one literary giant insisted was a genius shone no longer.
But Dorothy herself never accepted more than a modest accounting of her own gifts. 鈥淚 have not those powers which Coleridge thinks I have,鈥� she insisted later in life, almost as if making a case for the blandest possible version of her persona. 鈥淢y only merits are my devotedness to those I love and I hope charity towards all mankind.鈥�
Marjorie Kehe is the Monitor鈥檚 book editor.