III In the depths of his remote county Wordsworth had naturally formed a very lofty conception and a most brilliant picture of the University of Cambridge; and accordingly, in spite of the gloom of an autumn morning, and the leaden clouds which seemed to weigh heavily upon a wide level country, he was thrilled with delight when from the coach he caught sight of the towers of King's College Chapel rising above a dark mass of trees. His gaze became riveted upon the first student he discovered, dressed in the orthodox gown and tasselled cap, and hurrying along by himself as if pressed for time or eager for air and exercise. He could not take his eyes from him until he was left an arrow's flight behind. The town, as they drew near, seemed to Wordsworth to draw him to itself with the strength of an eddy. The coach passed beneath the castle, allowed him, as it crossed Magdalene Bridge, a momentary glimpse of the Cam, and drew up before the celebrated Hoop Inn. Scarcely had he alighted when he found himself surrounded by the familiar faces of old schoolfellows, mere acquaintances at Hawkshead, who, in this unfamiliar place, appeared like friends; simple schoolboys then, but now full of importance. Questions, directions, warnings and advice flowed in upon him as he passed along; and he had the impression, on this first proud and happy day, of being a man of business and expense, as he went from shop to shop about his own affairs. Among the motley crowd of townspeople and members of the university, students and doctors, gowns severely plain or gorgeous, through street and cloister, collegecourt and chapel, he wandered "with loose and careless mind." He was the Dreamer, his surroundings were the Dream. He paid a visit to his prospective tutor, then hastened to a tailor's shop, and presently came out splendidly attired, as if by the touch of a magic wand. He wore silk stockings; his powdered hair resembled a tree whitened by hoar-frost; he had bought a sumptuous dressing gown, and other signs of manhood destined to supply the lack of beard. His purchases concluded, he returned to his college. St John's was not one of the finest buildings in Cambridge; its principal claim to admiration lay in its great library, which was more worthy of a University than of a simple college, and contained a collection of French. works, chiefly historical, the gift of Matthew Prior the poet, who had been a student there. But some compensation for its want of architectural beauty was afforded by its splendid avenues of tall elms, which ran along the river and skirted the neighbouring meadows.3 Wordsworth took up his abode in the room assigned. to him, which looked out from an obscure nook upon the first of the three Gothic courts of the college. Exactly underneath him was the kitchen, from which a ceaseless hum arose, as busy, if not so musical, as the sound of bees, and mingled with the sharp commands and scolding tones of the servants. Close by was the loudtoned organ of Trinity College, and its loquacious clock which never failed, day or night, to chime the quarters, nor to tell the hours twice over, with a male and female voice. And from his pillow, by moonlight or starlight, he could see the porch of Trinity chapel, where the statue stood Of Newton with his prism and silent face, Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone.4 The succeeding weeks, beguiled by invitations, and 1 Powdering the hair did not go out of fashion until 1795. Its cessation was due to the Revolution. 2 The Prelude, iii. 18-42. 3 A concise and accurate description of the University, Town and Country of Cambridge (Cambridge, 1790?). 4 The Prelude, iii. 46-64. These beautiful lines on Newton seem to be inspired by the equally happy lines of Thomson: "The noiseless tide of time all bearing down Where the green islands of the happy shine, (Death of Isaac Newton). suppers with wine and fruit, closely resembled the day of his arrival, and were devoted to acquiring the tone and manners of the place. Yet, from the very first, in spite of the attraction of these unaccustomed pleasures, he had an obscure feeling that he was, and would remain, a stranger at Cambridge. He felt that he "was not for that hour nor for that place," that there he would find no use for the "holy powers" with which he had been endowed when he entered it. Thus, when the first glamour of college life had worn off, he would frequently quit his companions, and leaving the town. behind, would wander alone about the surrounding plain. And though the neighbourhood of Cambridge offered neither the prospect nor the awe-inspiring voices of his native mountains, the very bareness of his new surroundings led him to detect that universal beauty which is bestowed by nature as a recompense on the spots to which she has been least generous, and is discernible in the every-day appearance of earth and sky; of Earth nowhere unembellished by some trace Thus he experienced at Cambridge the same intuitions as at Hawkshead; here, too, he attributed life and feeling Το every natural form, rock, fruit, or flower, Whate'er of Terror or of Love, Or Beauty, Nature's daily face put on From transitory passion, unto this I was as sensitive as waters are To the sky's influence. Unknown, unthought of, yet I was most rich— I made it, for it only lived to me.1 1 The Prelude, iii. 75-142. If, however, by look or gesture he betrayed the visions which haunted him, they were set down to madness. Finding no one to whom he might confide them, he was compelled to keep them to himself. But though within his mind there were caverns which the sun could never penetrate, at the same time it did not lack leafy arbours where the light Might enter in at will.1 Greatly as he enjoyed solitude, his sociable disposition That miscellaneous garland of wild flowers Comrades, friends, mere associates of a day, were all alike welcome, or those of them at any rate who devoted themselves more willingly to pleasure than to study. Obliged to choose between the indolent and the industrious, he preferred the former, and spent his days in frivolity and amusement. They filled the morning with idle chat, and then sauntered about the streets and avenues. They Read lazily in trivial books, went forth To gallop through the country in blind zeal In this easy-going fashion Wordsworth spent whole months, not in scandalous or disorderly proceedings, but 1 The Prelude, iii. 234-246. 2 Ibid., iii. 218-225. 3 Ibid., iii, 246-255. F in vague and loose indifference, and the satisfaction of easily attainable desires. Nature did not supply the place of the forgotten idea of duty; memory was languid and lethargic; his heart was wrapped in the heavy slumber of summer noon-tide. His shallow existence might be compared To a floating island, an amphibious spot There was nothing in his environment to shame him out of his indolence, or to inspire him with the resolution. necessary to energetic effort. Slowly and insensibly, during a year of this existence, his "nature's outward " became changed.2 If his attention was once more to be concentrated upon himself, and his taste for superficiel pastimes replaced by devotion to meditation, such a result could only be produced by the stay he made at Hawkshead during his first Long Vacation. coat The two remaining years of his life at Cambridge were therefore less frivolous than the first. The boisterous amusements which had at first allured him no longer had their old charm. He led a more solitary life, opening his heart to the gentle influence of melancholy, and loving A pensive sky, sad days, and piping winds, The twilight more than dawn, autumn than spring.3 He became conscious of his poetic genius, and occupied himself in putting the finishing touches to a certain description of An Evening Walk in the lake-district, which had been sketched out at Hawkshead. He grew bold enough to hope that he might leave behind him some. monument which pure hearts should reverence."4 Gradually the instinctive humility which he had hitherto felt at the mere mention of authorship, or at the sight of a printed book, faded away. The reverential awe with which great names among the poets had impressed him 1 The Prelude, iii. 321-336. 3 Ibid., vi. 174-5. 2 Ibid., iii. 205-6. |