Saturday.—Very bright morning. Went to the Duke's gardens, which are beautiful. I thought of Italian villas, and Italian bays, looking down on a long green lawn adorned with flower-beds, such as ours, at one end; a perfect level, with grand walks at the ends, woods rising from it up the steeps; and the dashing sea, boats, and ships, and ladies struggling with the wind; veils and gay shawls and waving flounces. The gardens beautifully managed,—wild, yet neat enough for plentiful produce; shrubbery, forest trees, vegetables, flowers, and hot-houses, all connected, yet divided by the form of the ground. Nature and art hand in hand, tall shrubs, and Spanish chestnut in great luxuriance. Lord Fitzallan's children keeping their mother's birthday in the strawberry beds. Loveliest of evenings. Isle perfectly clear, but no Cumberland; the sea alive with all colours, the eastern sky as bright as the west after sunset.
Monday, 7th July.—Departed for Castletown. Nothing very interesting except peeps of the sea. Well peopled and cultivated, yet generally naked. Earth hedges, yet thriving trees in white rows; descent of a little glen or large cliff very pleasing, with its small tribute to the ocean. One cottage, and a corn enclosure, wild-thyme, sedum, etc.; brilliant and dark-green gorse; the bay lovely on this sweet morning; narrow flowery lanes, wild sea-view, low peninsula of Long Ness, large round fort and ruined church: bay and port, cold, mean, comfortless; low walk at Castletown, drawbridge, river and castle, handsome strong fortress, soldiers pacing sentinel, officers and music, groups of women in white caps listening, very like a town in French Flanders, etc. etc. Civility, large rooms, no neatness.
Tuesday, 8th July.—Rose before six. Pleasant walk to Port Mary Kirk, along the bay before breakfast; well cultivated, very populous, but wanting trees; outlines of hills pleasing. Port Mary, harbour for Manx fleet; pretty green banks near the port, neat huts under those rocks, with flower-garden, fishing-nets, and sheep, really beautiful; a wild walk and beautiful descent to Port Erin; a fleet of nearly forty sails and nets in the circular rocky harbour, white houses at different heights on the bank. Then across the country past Castle Rushen—a white church, and standing low; cheerful country, a few good houses, but seldom pretty in architecture; children coming from school, schools very frequent: now we drag up the hill, an equal ascent; turf, and not bad road, but a weary way.
But I ought to have before described our passage from Port Mary to Port Erin, over Spanish Head, to view the Calf, a high island, forty acres, partly cultivated, and peopled with rabbits—rent paid therewith; a stormy passage to the Calf, a boat hurrying through with tide, another small isle adjoining, very wild; I thought of the passage between Loch Awe and Loch Etive. To return to the mountain ascent from Castle Rushen: peat stacks all over, and a few warm snow huts; thatches secured by straw ropes, and the walls (in which was generally buried one window) cushioned all over with thyme in full blow, low sedum, and various other flowers. Called on Henry's friend beside the mountain gate; her house blinding with smoke. I sate in the doorway. She was affectionately glad to see Henry, shook hands and blessed us at parting—"God be with you, and prosper you on your journey!" Descend: more cottages, like waggon roofs of straw, chance-directed pipes of chimneys and flowery walls, not a shoe or a stocking to be seen. Dolby Glen, beautiful stream, and stone cottages, and gardens hedged with flowery elder, and mallows as beautiful as geraniums in a greenhouse.
Wednesday, 9th, Peele.—Morning bright, and all the town busy. Yesterday the first of the herring fishing, and black baskets laden with silvery herrings were hauled through the town, herrings in the hand on sticks, and huge black fish dragged through the dust. Sick at the sight, ferried across the harbour to the Island Castle, very grand and very wild, with cathedral, tower, and extensive ruins, and tombstones of recent date: several of shipwrecked men. Our guide showed us the place where, as Sir Walter Scott tells us, Captain Edward Christian was confined, and another dungeon where the Duchess of Gloucester was shut up fifteen years, and there died, and used to appear in the shape of a black dog; and a soldier who used to laugh at the story vowed he would speak to it and died raving mad. The Castle was built before artillery was used, and the walls are so thin that it is surprising that it has stood so long. The grassy floor of the hill delightful to rest on through a summer's day, to view the ships and sea, and hear the dashing waves, here seldom gentle, for the entrance to this narrow harbour is very rocky. Fine caves towards the north, but it being high water, we could not go to them. Our way to Kirk Michael, a delightful terrace; sea to our left, cultivated hills to the right, and views backwards to Peele charming. The town stands under a very steep green hill, with a watch-tower at the top, and the castle on its own rock in the sea—a sea as clear as any mountain stream. Fishing-vessels still sallying forth. Visited the good Bishop Wilson's grave, and rambled under the shade of his trees at Bishop's Court, a mile further. The whole country pleasant to Ramsey; steep red banks of river. The town close to the sea, within a large bay, formed to the north by a bare red steep, to the south by green mountain and glen and fine trees, with houses on the steep. Ships in harbour, a steam-vessel at a distance, and sea and hills bright in the evening-time. Pleasant houses overlooking the sea, but the cottage70 all unsuspected till we reach a little spring, where it lurks at the foot of a glen, under green steeps. A low thatched white house dividing the grassy pleasure plot, adorned with flowers, and above it on one side a hanging garden—flowers, fruit, vegetables intermingled, and above all the orchard and forest trees; peeps of the sea and up the glen, and a full view of the green steep; a little stream murmuring below. We sauntered in the garden, and I paced from path to path, picked ripe fruit, ran down to the sands, there paced, watched the ships and steamboats—in short, was charmed with the beauty and novelty of the scene: the quiet rural glen, the cheerful shore, the solemn sea. To bed before day was gone.
Thursday.—Rose early. Could not resist the sunny grass plot, the shady woody steeps, the bright flowers, the gentle breezes, the soft flowing sea. Walked to Manghold Head, and Manghold Kirk: the first where the cross was planted. The views of Ramsey Bay delightful from the Head: a fine green steep, on the edge of which stands the pretty chapel, with one bell outside, an ancient pedestal curiously carved, Christ on the cross, the mother and infant Jesus, the Manx arms, and other devices; near it the square foundation surrounded with steps of another cross, on which is now placed a small sundial, the whole lately barbarously whitewashed, with church and roof—a glaring contrast to the grey thatched cottages, and green trees, which partly embower the church. Numerous are the grave-stones surrounding that neat and humble building: a sanctuary taken from the waste, where fern and heath grow round, and over-grow the graves. I sate on the hill, while Henry sought the Holy Well, visited once a year by the Manx men and women, where they leave their offering—a pin, or any other trifle. Walked leisurely back to Ramsey; fine views of the bay, the orange-coloured buoy, the lovely town, the green steeps. The town very pretty seen from the quay as at the mountain's foot; rich wood climbing up the mountain glen, and spread along the hillsides.
THE END
Printed by R. & R. Clark, Limited, Edinburgh.
1 See Peter Bell, part iii. stanza 31.—Ed.
2 To a Highland Girl, in "Memorials of a Tour in Scotland, 1803."—Ed.
3 I should rather think so!—J. C. S.
4 "Capability" Brown.—J. C. S.
5 Cladich.—J. C. S.
6 Not very probable.—J. C. S.
7 Address to Kilchurn Castle, upon Loch Awe.—Ed.
8 The Pass of Awe.—J. C. S.
9 The village dame with whom he lived when a school-boy at Hawkshead.—Ed.
10 Duirinnis.—Ed.
11 See Resolution and Independence, stanza xiv.—Ed.
12 Lochnell House.—J. C. S.
13 Castle Stalker.—J. C. S.
14 George, seventh Marquis of Tweeddale, being in France in 1803, was detained by Bonaparte, and died at Verdun, 9th August 1804.—J. C. S.
15 Buchail, the Shepherd of Etive.—J. C. S.
16 See The Simplon Pass, in "Poetical Works," vol. ii. p. 69.—Ed.
17 Suie.—J. C. S. Quære, Luib.—Ed.
18 The burial-place of Macnab of Macnab.—J. C. S.
19 It is difficult to know what the Author meant by the First, Second, and Third "Parts" of her Journal; as it is divided into separate "Weeks" throughout. It is not of much consequence however, and the above short "Memorandum"—inserted in the course of the transcript—has a special interest, as showing that the work of copying her Journal was carried on by Dorothy Wordsworth from 1803 to 1805.—Ed.
20 Monzie probably.—J. C. S.
21 Glen Ogle.—J. C. S.
22 Ardhullary.—J. C. S.
23 This is none other than the well-known Scottish word "gey,"—indifferently, tolerable, considerable.—J. C. S.
24 See Rob Roy's Grave, in "Poetical Works," vol. ii. p. 403.—Ed.
25 See The Solitary Reaper, in "Poetical Works," vol. ii. p. 397, with note appended.—Ed.
26 See Lockhart's Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, vol. i. pp. 402-7, for an account of this visit. Lockhart says, "I have drawn up the account of this meeting from my recollection, partly of Mr. W.'s conversation, partly from that of his sister's charming 'Diary,' which he was so kind as to read to me on the 16th May 1836."—Ed.
27 See in the "Memorials of a Tour in Scotland, 1803," the Sonnet composed at —— Castle.—Ed.
28 See in "Memorials of a Tour in Scotland, 1803," Yarrow Unvisited.—Ed.
29 Compare Lockhart's Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, vol. i. p. 403.—Ed.
30 See in "Memorials of a Tour in Scotland, 1803," The Matron of Jedborough and her Husband.—Ed.
31 Compare Lockhart's Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, vol. i. p. 404.—Ed.
32 William Laidlaw.—Ed.
33 The full title was Scenes of Infancy, descriptive of Teviotdale, published in 1803.—Ed.
34 See "Memorials of a Tour in Scotland, 1803," "Fly, some kind Harbinger, to Grasmere-dale!"—Ed.
35 This title is given by the editor. There is none in the original MS.—Ed.
36 Compare the account given of this incident in The Excursion, towards the close of book ii.; also in the Fenwick note to The Excursion.—Ed.
37 A curious recast of this journal by his sister was published by Wordsworth, in his Description of the Scenery of the Lakes.—Ed.
38 A charge was made for wax candles.—D. W.
39 Compare in Tintern Abbey, ll. 16, 17—
40 See Il Penseroso, ll. 109, 110.—Ed.
41 Compare the sonnet Malham Cove, in "Poetical Works," vol. vi. p. 185.—Ed.
42 This was when writing out her Journal, begun two months after her return to Rydal Mount.—Ed.
43 Hockheim on the right bank of the Rhine, nearly opposite Mayence.—Ed.
44 His first visit to the Alps, with Robert Jones, in 1790.—Ed.
45 Compare Dorothy Wordsworth's letters written at Forncett rectory in 1790-91.—Ed.
46 After the sunshine has left the mountain-tops the sky frequently becomes brighter, and of the same hue as if the light from the hills had retreated thither.—D. W.
47 See the "Poetical Works," vol. vi. p. 315, in "Memorials of a Tour on the Continent, 1820," Scene on the Lake of Brientz.—Ed.
48 From the Wengern Alp.—D. W.
49 All these Alps are occupied by owners of land in the valleys, who have a right in common according to the quantity of their land. The cheeses, like the rest of the produce, are the property of all, and the distribution takes place at the end of the season.—D. W.
50 The Fall of the Reichenbach.—Ed.
51 Which is in fact the right bank as we were going up the Lake.—D. W.
52 The head Branch of the Lake of the Four Cantons.—D. W.
53 There is a mistake here as to the date, which renders all subsequent ones inaccurate.—Ed.
54 Named Göschenen. It is 2100 feet above the lake of Waldstelles and 3282 above the level of the Vierwaldstädtersee.—D. W.
55 Ramond gives this name to the whole valley from Amsteg to the entrance of Ursern. Ebel gives to it, altogether, the name of the Haute-Reuss; and says that it is called by the inhabitants the Graccenthal—Göschenen.—D. W.
56 Hospenthal.—Ed.
57 Cyclamen.—D. W.
58 It was not Mont Blanc. He was mistaken, or wanted to deceive us to give pleasure; but however we might have wished to believe that what he asserted was true, we could not think it possible.—D. W.
59 It is perfectly notorious that this picture suffered more from the negligence of the monks than from the scorn of the French. A hole was broken thro' the lower part of the centre of the picture to admit hot dishes from the Kitchen into the Refectory.—H. C. R.
60 In Troutbeck Valley especially.—D. W.
61 Descriptive Sketches.—W. W.
62 Then established.—D. W.
63 Joanna Hutchinson.—Ed.
64 They drove over from Arrochar to Cairndhu.—Ed.
65 The MS. is headed "Minutes collected from Mem. Book, etc., taken during a Tour in Holland, commenced May 16th, 1823."—Ed.
66 At Rydal Mount.—Ed.
67 The house at Cockermouth where William and Dorothy Wordsworth were born. Compare The Prelude, book i.—Ed.
68 Henry Hutchinson, Mrs. Wordsworth's brother, the "retired mariner" of the 9th Sonnet, composed during Wordsworth's subsequent tour in 1833.—Ed.
69 Joanna Hutchinson.—Ed.
70 The house in which they were to stay at Ramsey.—Ed.
Footnotes have been moved to the end of the book.
There is a paragraph on Page 218 that is partially repeated on Page 219. Since there are minor differences to the text, I have left the two unchanged.
Inconsistencies have been retained in spelling, hyphenation, formatting, punctuation, and grammar, except where indicated in the list below: