Wordsworth and The River Duddon

In 1820 Wordsworth very publicly wrote his younger brother into his latest collection, The River Duddon, a Series of Sonnets: Vaudracour and Julia: and Other Poems. The sonnet sequence, 'called forth by one of the most beautiful streams of his native county', was dedicated, not without typographical flourish, to Christopher Wordsworth, and his presence was further invoked by a substantial poem (thirteen six-line stanzas) addressed 'To the Rev. Dr. W –. (With the Sonnets to the River Duddon, and Other Poems in this Collection)'.¹ The poem is delightful in itself and deserves a place in any selection chosen to display the range of Wordsworth's best lyric poetry, but extracting 'To the Rev. Dr. W –' from its context to anthologise it as a rare late gem would diminish its significance. The poem is delicately connected to its surroundings in The River Duddon, and shows why this collection, long recognised as the turning point in the establishment of Wordsworth's reputation, marked also an important stage in the creation of his poetic identity.²

The poem opens with the annual visit of the Christmas minstrels to Wordsworth's home at Rydal Mount. Disdaining the keenness of the air as they 'scrap[e] the chords with strenuous hand', the rustic musicians go from door to door by moonlight, linking all the dwellers in the vale as each person is hailed, 'And "Merry Christmas" wish'd to all!'. In lines that call to mind Hardy's later account of the mumming in The Return of the Native, Wordsworth conveys the power of ritual celebration to transmit something of ineffable value through generations:

The mutual nod – the grave disguise Of hearts with gladness brimming o'er; And some unbidden tears that rise For names once heard, and heard no more; Tears brighten'd by the serenade For infant in the cradle laid!

In the past Christopher Wordsworth had shared in these communal events, but had left them behind for a highly successful academic and ecclesiastical career that by the age of 46 in 1820 saw him rector of St Mary's, Lambeth, chaplain to the Speaker of the House of Commons, and, as a much-published and respected scholar, soon to be Master of Trinity College, Cambridge. Alluding to this impressive progress, Wordsworth explains that, while he reveres the choice that took his brother so far beyond his 'native hills' and honours his labours for the public weal, he yearns for his presence back where he once belonged:

Yet, would that Thou, with me and mine, Hads't heard this never-failing rite; And seen on other faces shine A true revival of the light; Which Nature, and these rustic Powers, In simple childhood, spread through ours!³

Imagining the public man at work amidst 'the imperial City's din', the poet urges him to find room even in such a busy life for remembrance of 'agitations less severe, / That neither overwhelm nor cloy, / But fill the hollow vale with joy!'.

Viewing the distance between them, Wordsworth wonders if 'fond Fancy' ever transports his brother

From the proud margin of the Thames, And Lambeth's venerable towers, To humbler streams, and greener bowers.

It was a gap – the distance between the Lakes and London, the Duddon and the Thames – that reviewers made much of. 'Nothing is more natural than that a Lake poet should select a river for the subject of his muse; but what a name and what a river for inspiring a poet's imagination, Duddon!' This critic thought the Duddon an 'insignificant river' with a 'barbarous name', and so did others, such as Josiah Conder in the Eclectic Review, though he deemed the name not so much 'barbarous' as 'ludicrous'. The Monthly trod more cautiously, confessing that it could never quite gauge Mr Wordsworth's intentions, but concluded about 'the name of Duddon' that 'if there really is no more than meets the ear, we own that we are not greatly struck with its poetical effect'.⁴

'What would he not have written had the majestic Thames employed his muse', exclaimed the Literary Chronicle and Weekly Review...