Twenty-four Wordsworth

Twenty-Four

Wordsworth

27 May 1824

Yesterday, Nan and I walked to the Terrys as newly-admitted "members" of the Methodist class meeting.  We felt kind of important.  I actually did not, but I put on a good show for my sister.  I was rather thinking that they will likely kick me out, or, more likely, I shall become quite bored and quit.

Of course, the truth was that I wanted to play the pianoforte and see more of Mr. DuBois.  Of the first, I was successful.

We arrived early by design.  This permitted me the excuse of being permitted to play the pianoforte which opportunity was given me immediately upon arrival.  The Terrys appeared to enjoy my enthusiasm for the instrument.

I began with what I could remember of "Fur Elise".  I got only as far as the first few bars, or at least until the point when it becomes more difficult.  I then could not remember the rest.  I remembered a part of a Bach concerto, but again I was confounded by how little I knew.  Mozart came next, and of that, I remembered almost nothing.  I would think that God was smiling a little, knowing what would come next.

I paged through the Methodist hymnal which, of course, was in close proximity.  I found three hymns set to Beethoven, of which two were set to the same tune, "Ode to Joy".  I tried Mozart and found two different hymns set to the same piece of music.  Then, Haydn.  On that, I found more success.

A few people arrived while I was playing, and they joined in by singing.  I must admit that I rather enjoyed this, even though one or two sounded rather like a goose being chased.  Soon, the time came for the opening prayer and the start of the meeting.  There was no Mr. DuBois to be seen.  He'll arrive shortly and apologize for his tardiness, I thought.

The lesson started.  I've no idea what it concerned as I was completely preoccupied as to the whereabouts of the missing Mr. DuBois.

Time passed slowly.  Very slowly.  Then, the closing prayer.

My disappointment must have been apparent to all.  Only Reverend Terry guessed at the reason.

"I have something for you", he said after most had departed, producing a sheet of paper.  On the top, a note addressed to "Miss L. Williams" stating that the undersigned was gone to Mobile (a two-week trip by boat if one returned immediately) on behalf of Rev. Terry, but that he wanted me to have the first part of the Wordsworth poem from which he quoted the prior week.  Below this was written:

"Tintern Abbey"

Five years have past; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters! and again I hear
These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
With a soft inland murmur. -- Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
That on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.

Oh!  What joy besets me!  Every word seems to have been written for that moment which I shall never forget.  Even the "five years past", for it has been five years since coming to the wilds of Alabama.  And steep and lofty cliffs, there are those, too.  It was as though England has been transported to the Falls of the Coosa.

Surely, Mr. DuBois has thought of me from time to time, and not just to remember a promised poem.  But I must gather my thoughts, and calm my demeanor lest my sister Nan catch on.  For I have been, for these twenty-five years, a solitary sort, not meant for flirtations and frivolity with the opposite sex.

I have been taken by complete surprise that a gentleman can unsettle me so.