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Rhyme and Reason at Rydal MountA Visit to the English Lake DistrictBy Carol Anne Strange
Some years previous, I had visited Wordsworth’s `Dove Cottage’ further down the road in Grasmere and every time I’d passed Rydal Mount on subsequent Lakeland trips, I have vowed to visit the former Poet Laureate’s family home. There was no particular reason. I favour Keat’s `To Autumn’ than Wordsworth’s renowned `The Inward Eye’ (Daffodils) and yet I felt an affinity with this man, though long gone, but whose verse brought the natural world to life with such an enigmatic and tangible force. This day I was searching for answers in my complex world and indeed felt like I was `wandering lonely as a cloud’. I sensed a pull towards nature, an innate need to be in tune with the environment, as perhaps seen through Wordsworth’s imaginative eyes.
To me, the most important room in the house is Wordsworth’s attic study, which he used when he was Poet Laureate. This light, airy and spacious room is full of exhibits and evokes an atmosphere of fervent creativity, perhaps inspired by the picture book views from the two attic windows. I imagined Wordsworth looking out towards the surrounding fells and to the Lake and, for a moment, there was a strong sense of being in the past. I remained in this room alone, mesmerised for quite some time, breathing in the earthiness of the Autumnal fragrance from the gardens below, carried in on the gentlest Lakeland breeze through an opened window. Within the walls of Rydal Mount, a rich history comes to life, oozing out of the story contained in Wordsworth’s collection of possessions: furniture (well-worn), portraits and pictures, letters and first editions of the poet’s work and sentimental effects of love and family life. From the time he moved to Rydal in 1813 to his death in 1850, the spirit of Wordsworth emanates still with such vitality, which is never more stronger than in his beloved gardens on this four-acre site.
Here, on this Autumnal day, I found answers I was looking for. I wandered up the steps, along the narrow tree-lined path on the fell side. As I ambled carefully, negotiating the damp foliage and twisted tree roots beneath my feet, my pace became more gentle and serene. I found myself touching the trees, the leaves, the silky dew covered moss and I stopped to pick up fallen pinecones. An overwhelming sense of joy filled my senses, bringing tears to my eyes, and suddenly, all my troubles were of no consequence in the grand order of nature. I felt instantly uplifted. The beautiful spirit of this place permeated my being and brought about clarity, sense of belonging and such love as to be totally embraced by the energy that found me there. On that same path, that many like me have walked, I came across Wordsworth’s summer house … a simple rustic walkthrough wood and stone shelter, with a bench inside, perched on the fell side terrace. I rested here a while to contemplate, in the very spot where Wordsworth himself had sat to reflect and compose his most impressionable verse. And here, I felt at one as if merged with everything. I saw through Wordsworth’s eyes and experienced an incredible flood of happiness. Never before have I been touched so profoundly and yet this magic has always been there and brings healing to the mind and senses. Reluctant to leave this special place, I knew, nonetheless, that it was time for me to go. My visit, albeit brief and alone, had given more that I could have ever expected. I got to my car and a robin redbreast sat there waiting for me, inquisitive in its manner as if to ask me if I’d found the answers I was searching for that day. The tiny bird cocked its head to one side, waiting, and I smiled with warmth in my heart. Wordsworth’s words came to mind - `My soul, though yet confined to earth, rejoices in a second birth’. I left Rydal Mount truly inspired and seeing through new eyes as if I had been born again. Information:Rydal Mount Opening Hours: Summer – March to
October – 9.30am to 5pm Further details:
http://www.thisisthelakedistrict.co.uk Words and pictures by Carol Anne Strange |
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TM
I set off to the
English Lake District on a damp September morning with no certain itinerary
but simply a need to get away from it all. After an early stroll by the side
of mist laden Lake Windermere, I found myself driving off towards Ambleside
to Rydal Mount, the home of 19th century poet William Wordsworth.
My car climbed the
lofty driveway to Rydal Mount and rested precariously in the steepness of
the designated car park. I was first to arrive and entered the peaceful
grounds to a small shop selling souvenirs. Ticket purchased, I entered the
historic house, which now belongs to the descendents of the poet. I began my
tour of the areas that are open to the public. First, the dining room with
its original flagged floor and oak beams, part of the old Tudor cottage;
then the larger drawing room and library (added in 1750), and the family
bedrooms. These rooms contained fragments of the Wordsworth family’s past,
from the old, black couch that William rested upon to the smaller, more
personal items of antiquity, encased to protect the fragility of remnants of
yesteryear. There is a strong and evocative sense of a happy family life
here and of frequent dinner and garden parties attended by people – friends
– from all walks of life.
Wordsworth was a
passionate landscape gardener. Filled with rare shrubs, ancient trees,
rhododendrons and seasonal flowers of bluebells and daffodils, the gardens
retain the essence of Wordsworth and remain the same as he had designed.
With fell-side terraces, lawns, rock pools and ancient mounds, frequented by
wildlife a plenty, there is a feast for the heart and senses.