Dorothy Wordsworth, born December 1771, in
Cockermouth England, was a prolific writer of the
Romantic era. Best known for her journals published in
1897 after her death, she wrote exclusively for herself and
for her brother, William Wordsworth. Dorothy kept
detailed journals of her daily life, and her travels with
William and their friends, using her keen observation
skills to translate her daily life and travels into eloquent
prose. As William's devoted sister, Dorothy was his
constant companion and, arguably, an equal participant in
his writing process.
Dorothy's writing, while a treasured look into her world
offering readers a multi-sensual peek into her daily life,
with the many people and sights she encounters along the
way, she writes very little about her personal feelings.
With the exception of an entry on May 14th 1800, in
which Dorothy was beset by "a flood of tears," this
confession is one of the rare times she expresses any
emotion, especially sadness. It has been surmised that she
was a willing participant behind the scenes as she eagerly
writes about the many times she and William work side by
side together, yet, was it possible she was as devoted as
she claims? Was there never any pique about her obscure
position as merely the sister of a famous poet, resentment
of William's marriage to Mary, and her place in his life?
The following is an announcement for the publication of
excerpts from a (supposed) secret diary that Dorothy kept
hidden, written in the emotional voice typical of the genre,
where we get to hear, in her own words, what Dorothy
truly felt about her writing relationship with her more
famous brother. (And, yes, there really is a Tweedies Barand Lodge. And, sadly, this is satire and they do not
actually have Dorothy's secret diary on display.)
The attached documents are excerpts from a diary that is
claimed to be authored by Dorothy Wordsworth, the sister
of the famous Romantic poet, William. This diary was
discovered by a Mrs. Arthur Higgenbothom, of 143
Easedale Road, Grasmere, as she was cleaning the effects
of her recently deceased great-maiden aunt, who at her
demise resided in Ambleside. Mrs. Higgenbothom, upon
making this exciting discovery immediately brought the
diary to her solicitor brother in London, who immediately
approached the British Library, who kindly declined the
offer. The artifact now resides in Tweedies Bar and Lodge,
in Grasmere, and is securely enclosed in a locked glass
case. The original artifact can be viewed by appointment
only, or upon booking into Tweedies Lodge for a
minimum of one night.
While much is known of another diary that has been
verified as authentic, the authenticity of this diary is still
being discussed, debated, and heatedly argued about, often
to the point of some passionate near-violence. (Please note
that Tweedies Bar will no longer host these events as the
damage to the premise and the disturbance to the other
guests had become untenable.) While the provenance of
this diary has not been verified, the curators of this
document feel that this artifact should not be kept from a
curious public, and have made some of the pages
available. Here are two, more will become available in the
future:
Oct the 15th--- Dear Diary,
William has found my other diary that I keep to inspire
him. I endeavored to lay it in a spot where I was sure he
would find it. I tried not to be obvious as I am desirous
that he not feel he is using ideas that are not his own. I do
87my best to keep that diary lively. But from most entries it
would seem that I live a dull life indeed, walking through
woods, walking up hills, walking down hills, walking in
the other direction, dining with Coleridge, taking tea with
Coleridge, and hanging linen. If you read only that diary
of the record of my daily life you might believe me to be
dull and uninspired. In this secret diary, just between you
and me I will share my most intimate thoughts, thoughts I
could and would not share with anyone else. Not even W.
He might consider them to be not the sort of things the
spinster sister of a great poet who spends her days walking
and hanging linen should be sharing with the world. Yet,
that dear boy can be so forgetful and sometimes at such a
loss that I have taken it upon myself to be his secret muse.
I will do my best to observe and record the many things
that he often misses noticing so that he may have
something to use when he is in a creative mood. W can be
so moody and hence oblivious to all the wonderful things
we pass every day that I would hate for them to be lost to
time and his pen. Dearest William can be a bit lost in his
own world which suits his vivid poetry, but it helps as well
if he can recall the things of this world. I hope my other
diary moves him to continue to inspire his faithful readers.
His poetry is glorious compared to my own little musings.
But I see the value in keeping my other diary as William
will often say, "Dorothy, what was it we saw the other
day? You remember, when we saw the daffodils and
clouds?" and he will now have my other diary to remind
him of the moment. Poor Willian, what ever would he do
without me.
Oct 3---Dear Diary,
As I wrote in the other diary William and I walked, again,
and I noticed a leech collector and made a note of it
because his story fascinated me. It was a sad tale of muchhardship and misery. He spoke lovingly of his wife and
the loss of all their children save but one, a sailor. I
suspected that W would want to write about this man and
he did. I do say it is a lovely poem and well received, but I
was dismayed to discover that he did not include these
more intimate details of this poor man's life Next time I
will take care to notice something more picturesque, and
besides leeches make me cringe just a tiny bit.
My Beloved W is marrying and I love Mary, but if he puts
me out I don't know what I shall do. The ungrateful little
git, after all I've done for him. If he does put me out I shall
keep my diary to myself and he will need to remember his
own leech gatherers and daffodils and clouds on his own.