John Constable: An Excursion

"Stratford Mill" by John Constable

"In one of his letters from Cole-Orton, the estate of his friend Sir George Beaumont, to his wife, John Constable says: 

'Sir George rises at seven, walks in the garden before breakfast, and rides out about two, fair or foul. We have had breakfast at half-past eight, but today we began at the winter hour - nine. We do not quit the breakfast tanle directly, but chat a little about the pictures in the room. We then go to the painting room, and Sir George most manfully sets to work, and I by his side. At two the horses are brought to the door. I have had an opportunity of seeing the ruins of Ashby, the mountain stream and rocks at Grace Dieu, and an old convent there... At dinner we do not sit long; Lady Beaumont reads the newspaper to us and then to the drawing room to tea, and after that comes a great treat. I am furnished with some portfolios full of beautiful drawings or prints, and Sir George reads a play in a manner the most delightful. On Saturday evening it was 'As You Like It." Last evening, Sunday, he read a sermon, and a good deal of Wordsworth's 'Excursion.' Some of the landscape descriptions in it are very beautiful. About nine, the servant comes in with a little fruit and a decanter of water, and at eleven we go to bed. You would laugh to see my bedroom. I have dragged so many things into it - books, portfolios, prints, canvases, pictures, etc.'"

An Excerpt from Wordsworth's "The Excursion":

 "Ah! what a sweet Recess, thought I, is here!
Instantly throwing down my limbs at ease
Upon a bed of heath; - full many a spot
Of hidden beauty have I chanced to espy
Among the mountains; never one like this;
So lonesome, and so perfectly secure;
Not melancholy - no, for it is green,
And bright and fertile, furnished in itself
With the few needful things that life requires.

-In rugged arms how softly does it lie,

How tenderly protected! Far and near
We have an image of the pristine earth,

"The planet in its nakedness: were this
Man's only swelling, sole appointed seat,
First, last, and single in the breathing world,
It could not be more quiet: peace is here
Or nowhere; days unruffled by the gale
Of public news or private; years that pass
Forgetfully; uncalled upon to pay
The common penalties of mortal life,
Sickness, or accident, or grief, or pain."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Life and Letters of John Constable, R.A." by Charles Robert Leslie.)