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The Prelude, William
Wordsworth
book review
WORDSWORTH'S AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL POEM.*
IN noticing "The Prelude by William Wordsworth," we must
become for a while retrospective reviewers; for this poem is
not of to-day, nor even of this generation. Five times,
since its concluding lines were written, has the period
enjoined by Horace for the revision and retouching of the
original manuscript passed away; nor, in the meanwhile, has
the work been remodeled by its author. It is, as it were,
virgin from his pen. It is now printed as Wordsworth
conceived and transcribed it nearly half a century ago. It
relates, objectively, to the England and Europe of 1800;
and, subjectively, to the vernal prime of him who, but a few
months ago, died full of years and honours. Both
historically and psychologically, therefore, this posthumous
yet youthful work is of the highest interest.
Historically, it carries us back to the very threshold of
the nineteenth century. "It was commenced in 1799, and
completed in the summer of 1805." It speaks to us across a
gulf of fifty years. Nor is the circumstance of its real
date alone impressive; for during that interval of fifty
years, while the manuscript slumbered in its author's desk,
or was partially communicated to his friends, more complete
and comprehensive mutations were enacted in the world than
vcan be recorded of any equal period of time, without
excepting even the half-century that followed the victory at
Plataea, or that which succeeded the burning of the Papal
bull and decreatals at Wittnebergh. In literature as well as
in history most things during that interval have "become
new." For the Prelude is elder than the meridian products of
Goethe's genius, than the deepest thoughts of Jean Paul,
than the criticism of the Schlegels, than the philosophical
works of Coleridge, than the poetry and the prose of Byron,
Shelley, Southey, and Carlyle. And, as regards history, the
Prelude is anterior to the greatest war and to the most
appalling catastrophe the world has ever seen. It is elder,
too, than all the mechanical strides of science, and all the
political and social developments which have rendered the
nineteenth century an epoch far more momentous and
marvellous than any epoch of equal duration "in ancient or
in modern books enrolled." We approach, therefore, this
record of a poet's mind with a feeling of two-fold homage -
in part to his genius, and in part to the age; and, in
relation to the Prelude itself, the sources of this homage
are so intimately connected with each other, that in our
abstract and survey of it we shall not attempt to separate
them. The octogenarian bard may be fitly regarded as a
representative of the acts and thoughts of the last
half-century.
The Prelude, as its title-page indicates, is a poetical
autobiography, commencing with the author's earliest
reminiscences and experiences, down to the year 1805. It
consists of fourteen books. Two of these are devoted to the
childhood and school-time of the
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