ave suggested
the most intimate relation between these two statements. For many years
he was looked upon as an "inspired idiot" by a large part of the reading
world; and his place in literature has not been definitely settled to
this day. Such extravagant claims have always been made for him by his
friends that they have called forth just as extravagant denunciations
from those who do not admire his works; and violent controversies arise
concerning his merits among first-class scholars and critics. It is
always noticeable, however, in these discussions that his panegyrists
always quote his best efforts, those sublime passages to which no one
denies transcendent merit, and that his opponents never get much beyond
"Peter Bell," and other trivialities and absurdities, which his best
friends must admit that he wrote in great numbers. That his best work
ranks next to Shakespeare, Milton, and Shelley, can scarcely be doubted
by any true lover of poetry; and he certainly has the right to be judged
by his best, rather than by his inferior work.

Wordsworth was born in 1770, in Cumberland, and received his early
education there, being noted for his excellence in classical studies and
for his thoughtful disposition. He graduated from St. John's College,
Cambridge, and immediately after began his literary labors, which were
continued through a long and most industrious life.

In 1803 he married Miss Mary Hutchinson of Penrith, and settled at
Grasmere, in Westmoreland, where he passed the remainder of his life,
and where he lies buried in the little churchyard where so many of his
family had preceded him. He helped to make the Lake district famous the
world over, and himself never wearied of its charms. He was
pre-eminently the poet of Nature, and it was from the unrivalled scenery
of this part of England that he caught much of his inspiration. Mrs.
Wordsworth, who was as fond of it as her husband, used to say in extreme
old age, that the worst of living in the Lake region was that it made
one unwilling to die when the time came. The poet's marriage was an
eminently happy one, although Miss Martineau hints that it was not first
love on his part, but that the lines, "She was a phantom of delight," so
often quoted as relating to Mrs. Wordsworth, were really meant to
indicate another person who had occupied his thoughts at an early day.
At any rate, he did address the following lines to his wife after
thirty-six years of married life