Nether Stowey Night

Torch Parade at Nether Stowey

 Tuesday evening after supper, conference attendees were driven five miles to the village of Nether Stowey to visit Coleridge Cottage, home of the poet and his family from 1797 to 1799. You can find plenty of details at http://www.friendsofcoleridge.com/Coleridge-Cottage.htm. We wandered through the carefully restored little house and garden, encouraged by the docents to pick up everything, open all the drawers, and even try on the clothes if so moved. As darkness finally approached near 10:30pm torches were lit in the center of town and we paraded, each with burning paraffin stick in hand, up to the high site of a ruined castle. As we stood about in the dark gazing at the bright ceiling of stars with only these bits of fire to see by, a paper balloon with candle inside was sent aloft (with Lloyd's assistance) and relevant lines of a Coleridge poem were read aloud. No doubt village residents were puzzled.

Cannington Coleridge Conference

We've been too busy to blog, but we're taking a quick break from the conference now to report on things in the last few days. A good flight on Sunday night brought us to Heathrow airport--it was a half-full flight, so we could each stretch out across three seats and pretend to sleep. The airport was swarming with volunteers dressed in pink, ready to assist visitors to the Olympics.We picked up our rental car and were off, carefully adjusting to the "wrong side of the road" mode of driving.

At Cannington we got checked into our dorm rooms and were off to attend the day's presentations on Coleridge.

Ah, charming England!

Pforzheimer Collection

Here in Jersey City with Aaron, enjoying amazingly cool weather. Rain yesterday, but we were not complaining. We went to the Pforzheimer Collection of Romanticism books at the NYC Public Library and looked at illustrated editions of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage.

What a beautiful library.

Reading Room at the library.

From Milton's Areopagitica

Off we go!

Thursday morning, with little sleep through the night, but all packed, house arranged and settled, and waiting for sweet Natalie to come whisk us away to the airport. Good by, raspberries!

Blogging Practice

So let's post some pictures of our sunny and hot backyard:

Tulip poplar, swing, jungle.

This is what some Byron text will look like, along side a photo:

Summer flowers

Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child!

Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart?

When last I saw thy young blue eyes, they smiled,

And then we parted,—not as now we part,

But with a hope. —

                                    Awaking with a start,

The waters heave around me; and on high

The winds lift up their voices:  I depart,

Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by,

When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye. 




 That isn't perfect, because the Spenserian stanza has a final line with an extra iambic foot--that is, it is an alexandrine, which the space doesn't quite accommodate. Alas. I need to do some adjusting, but let's take a look now.

Getting Started

The countdown has ended, and tomorrow morning we're off to the Nashville airport, with sweet Natalie driving. By tomorrow night we'll be with Aaron in Jersey City, with the Manhattan skyline rising over the Hudson. As Byron says about Childe Harold, "Once more upon the waters! yet once more!" We haven't reached those waters (the English Channel) yet, but the line nevertheless expresses our sense of excitement about starting off once again on an adventure. 

I will be blogging the part of our trip that retraces the 1816 route of Byron from London  to Geneva; this was the background for Canto III of his Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, a long narrative poem that follows the travels of a young man (very much like Byron!) through much of Europe. Cantos I and II were written in 1810, and cover Byron's travels from England to Portugal, Spain, Malta, Greece, and Albania. In the intervening years, Byron became famous and then married. Both fame and marriage were personal disasters for him, and in the spring of 1816, estranged from his wife and society, he left all--including his beloved half-sister Augusta and his new-born daughter Ada--and, accompanied by his "doctor" John Polidori, fled England. Canto III ends with his sights set on Italy, and Canto IV follows him there, from Venice to his final destination Rome, where all roads lead. If this summer excursion is successful we'll want to retrace the other parts of the pilgrimage too. 


So right now I'm just getting familiar with blogging again, since it has been a few years. The Travels with Childe Harold blog doesn't  start until July 28, but I need to know how to post photographs, edit, and work out the relationship between the stanzas of Canto III and my own commentary.