Visiting Dove Cottage
A dream come true …………
The writer in Wordsworth country
Often in my dreams the soul had frequented my favourite Romantic Poet, William Wordsworth's Dove Cottage, where he, with his family and sister Dorothy lived. Being a student of English literature, it was only fair I should spend time and money to visit it. In London not long ago, I decided to venture out on the mission in company with some others. It was pretty cloudy, occasionally drizzling, a perfect set-up for my rendezvous. In such a state of ecstasy I had absolutely forgotten my fellow- travellers! They had been pushed completely in the background! There I was, imagining myself in the Victorian era, dressed up in those long gowns, tight at the midriff, my hair tied up high, adorned with a beautiful lace-flowery hat. It was a mad lover taken over by a spell of haste, to meet her paramour, after ages of separation! It was quite early in the morning when we set out. Already the countryside was spreading a kind of aura all over me. The passing green valleys and the white clouds reminded me of his famous poemThe Daffodils…….'I wandered lonely as a cloud, that floats high over vales and hills'…the smooth, silk-like roads helped me to dream without encountering any bumps! The grey-tiled cottages, smoke coming through the chimney-tops fitted exactly with the picture I had in mind. It was summer, all the reason for the bewitching; for alluring flowers to bloom in the mini gardens, which ''garnished'' the approach to the stone- boundary cottages. Tall trees were in abundance, as if God had built only one paradise and that was the Lake District and the road to Dove Cottage. The sight of daffodils took me years back to my childhood, when I first got acquainted with Wordsworth, given the task to recite The Daffodils. I still remember… "The wealth the show had brought, It became my bliss of solitude. '' We drove on, my heart skipping a beat as I suddenly spotted a sign which read… 'THE WORDSWORTH TRUSTDOVE COTTAGE
[P]100 YDS Now I felt sure the sound of my heart thumping could be heard from afar. We got down from the bus and walked a bit to reach Dove Cottage. and there stood the signboard …ROMANTIC POETS, ROMANTIC PLACES.' With a small inscriptionWordsworth Trust. I pinched myself to see if I was day-dreaming ! "Hurry''. I came to myself only to realize I had fallen far behind in the queue. As I stood there my mind registered every little detail. Once inside, we were requested not to take photographs and to take the few seats they had. We were the only Bangladeshis. A couple of Indians were there. The rest were British. The Wordsworths' dining room was now the living room for visitors, with a humble fireplace in the corner. I chose the window seat overlooking the garden which Dorothy's finger had so fondly touched! A feast for the eyes, the orange poppies were in full bloom, not to mention the famous daffodils. Meanwhile, the guide was constantly narrating incidents of that time. Their favourite friends were Thomas de Quincy, S.T.Coleridge and Robert Southey. We were then ushered into a room where hung a painting by Lord Beaumont bearing witness to the sad demise at sea of Wordworth's brother John. "In fact it was an elegy'' was the guide's comment. We were then escorted to an amazing discovery …the butlery ! It was built over a stream to keep it cold so that stores could remain fresh for two weeks at a stretch. The wash basin used is now back in vogue. They had to pay six shillings for extra light for lamps which they termed as daylight robbery. We were now in the bedroom watching a small bed and a small suitcase set aside. But what caught our attention was the unusual sixty-six visas pasted on the door, displaying his importance! What was more surprising was his French passport! The guide went on to say …his sister Dorothy used to prepare bread for William every morning and pack it for his journey. Dorothy became his companion, friend, moral support and housekeeper, till her physical and mental decline. It was a custom that if a daughter was unmarried, the family took care of her till her death. William took very good care of her. The death of John strongly affected the entire family, and they moved to Rydal Mount, Ambleside, where he spent the rest of his life. The guide narrated how William had met Coleridge and along with Southey they became a strong trio. After Robert Southey died in 1843, Wordsworth was made Poet Laureate in 1850. These three friends were named the Lake Poets. The guide continued, but I had had my fill for the day. While standing in the queue, I had spied an arrow pointed towards the museum and the bookstore and was impatient to see it, so I begged leave, stepping a few yards to buy myself a ticket. Once inside, I noticed that there were plenty of things of interest. At the bookshop I was about to pick a rare collection but when I got to know the exorbitant price I just let it go. Instead, I bought two quills and postcards as souvenirs. There was provision for you to listen to the life history of the Wordsworths, using headphones, and there I was, back again with them! The long desired tour ended with a lot of fulfillment and contentment, enjoying every moment of it, though, a few minutes that I lingered for a last look led us to missing the first bus! Because of me, the others suffered the walk for the next bus. On the way back, it began to drizzle again, ferrying me back to the make-believe world of William Wordsworth…..now, happy and complete. Back home, I thanked the Almighty profusely for making a dream come true!
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