The Accidental Poet: Dorothy Wordsworth

Dorothy Wordsworth “should detest the idea of setting [herself] as an Author,” yet that is precisely what the editors of this anthology, and many others, do (290). As students of literature, both in the lifelong sense and the summer-of-2009 sense, we cannot possibly divorce ourselves from the additional meaning that being published lends a writer, particularly when this publication is in such an anthology. Thus, when we read lines like those in “When Shall I Treat Your Garden Path?” or the other poetry chosen for inclusion in our anthology, we are immediately moved to liken them to lines of great literature like that of Dorothy’s brother. However, that little eight-line poem is no more than a cute letter to a friend, written competently but very simply. Many, if not most, women of the time composed short verses to their friends and for their own amusement; Dorothy’s literary genius is not such that it ought to secure her place among the hallowed poets through English history, an illustrious group of which her brother is certainly a part. Dorothy’s inclusion in the studies of her contemporaries as well as modern scholars may be more circumstantial than merit-based: she lived and wrote at a time when literary critics were beginning to reconsider the value of a woman in literature.

All this is not to say that Dorothy Wordsworth is insignificant; she most certainly is not. In fact, she and her associated work may even be more significant than the equivalent work from men of the early 19th century—but such significance stems not from the absolute value of the poetry itself, but rather from her circumstances. Dorothy was born a mere four years before Jane Austen; by the time of Dorothy’s first bout of illness, when she did a fair amount of her writing, Austen had already published all of her works: in fact, she had already died. Other significant women, too, wrote around the same time period, and wrote works of poetry and prose that have endured through the generations. These women, including Dorothy Wordsworth who did not even consider herself a writer, proved themselves to be intellectually and literarily the equals of men.

Despite Dorothy Wordsworth being an average woman and an average poet, her prose is indeed full of beautiful imagery, though it, too, is little more than an average journal. The description of the field of daffodils, perhaps the same scene that inspired William Wordsworth to pen his “I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud,” is full of imagery and figurative language. She writes that she and her brother “fancied that the lake had floated the seeds ashore & that the little colony had so sprung up,” showing a lively imagination and a cleverness with words (296). She personifies the daffodils, describing how “some rested their heads upon these stones as on a pillow for weariness & the rest tossed & reeled & danced” (296), an image strikingly similar to those found in her brother’s poem. In fact, Dorothy may have directly influenced her brother’s poem of a similar theme, which would be quite a literary achievement indeed. Though she is an average woman simply writing in a journal, she clearly has a natural affinity for the finer points of language. She appreciated beauty and knew how to create it for herself with words. Perhaps this quality does not make her a literary genius of the line of Milton, Shakespeare, and even her brother; yet it does make her a talented writer, moved by the same beauty as her brother and equal to the task of evoking that beauty in language.

In fact, it may be Dorothy Wordworth’s average-ness that makes her so significant on a large scale. A woman in the past would have to have been extraordinarily talented to even merit mention, let alone garner fame. The realms of literature and politics, though, evolved; they evolved to the point where a simple woman with a gift for words can stand alongside men in the history and literature books. It is, therefore, Dorothy’s circumstance more than her genius that grants her the right to be a revered writer, which makes her a small part of some of the greatest achievements a writer can attain: to change the way people think, to right widespread wrongs in the world, and to add a new kind of voice to the great dialogue of history.