by Gareth Evans
Following six months of settled living with his sister Dorothy, one May morning William Wordsworth left Dove Cottage with his brother John to walk through Yorkshire. Separated from her brothers in early childhood only to be permanently reunited as adults, an understandably emotional Dorothy found ways of coping with what was clearly an acute sense of loss on their departure. That day, 14 May 1800, she resolved to start writing what was to become The Grasmere Journal. The following morning she went out into the garden and hoed that season’s first row of peas, an activity that was both a distraction and a necessity.
Away from the steeply-rising pleasure garden at Dove Cottage, Dorothy chiefly organised and tended the productive kitchen garden as part of her housekeeping tasks. This she undertook with the help of the out-living day servants Molly, Aggy and John, who with William, helped perform heavy tasks: ‘Sauntered a good deal in the garden, bound carpets, mended old clothes. Read Timon of Athens. Dried linen – Molly weeded the turnips, John stuck the peas’ (19 May 1800). Garden peas were a nutritious staple of the cottage economy they appear to be a long-time constituent of the Wordsworths’ plain diet, as was a wide range of other garden produce.
That first row of peas that Dorothy tended on 15 May 1800 had probably been sown from the end of March to the beginning of April, which suggests they were growing an ‘early’ variety bred to give especially quick results. To plant each row the seeds were placed at regular intervals in a drill drawn across the ground. Not fully above the ground in May, they were still vulnerable to competition from ramping weeds. As Abercombie’s plain-speaking Every Man His Own Gardener (1767 onwards) advises in his entry for May, ‘There is no work in the kitchen garden that requires more attention than this; for weeds are at no time more dangerous to crops than the present.’ A week later the reward of Dorothy’s vigilance was recorded in the journal with the satisfied comment ‘all peas up’; a feat, along with the success of the whole plot, we should take too much for granted. Peas are known for their rapid development, so soon shoots of that first row of peas at Dove Cottage would have vined, the point when the first tendrils appear. Straggling on the ground, they would have required somebody to provide them with support, or to ‘stick’ them as Dorothy refers to it using a now obsolete term:
Stick: ‘to furnish (a plant) with a stick as a support’, (OED 3rd ed. 1972).
Stickings: ‘sticks used to support garden pea plants.’, (OED 3rd ed. 2017).
Pea sticks can be cut from such trees as hazel, beech or hornbeam, the previous winter. The broom-like, prepared twiggy branches are placed in the ground like small leafless trees for the pea tendrils to bind to as the plant grows up into the supporting matrix. In an alternative practice, tent-like frames were created from straight pollarded poles of hazel or birch. As William was still making more pea sticks in June it appears he was, in fact, utilising the trees in the woods around Grasmere. Most suitable for full-sized variety of peas, as opposed to the dwarf type, these unwieldy pea sticks could be over two metres long. Whichever system was actually used, the pea and the support together created an intimately entwined and productive structure.
However, this is not the story of the simple cultivation of a single crop of peas. The pea is most frequently mentioned vegetable in the Journal in 1800. This was a consequence of the demanding horticultural procedure the Wordsworths had planned which prolonged the season of this quick growing crop. Dorothy’s pea plot was not completely sown at once, in line with the established practice, the successive rows would have been sown at intervals to give a ‘constant supply of young peas for the table’. The poorest cottager might be able to sow a single row of peas, or perhaps two rows in succession for an extended harvest. The Wordsworths confidently planned at least six rows in succession, probably more. If they had bought a pint of an established garden variety such as ‘Prussian Blue’, contemporary horticultural sources state confidently that it would have contained 1860 seeds, enough for 8 rows each 4 yards long.
Although Dorothy’s journal starts too late in the year to record that first sowing of peas, nevertheless we can detect the rhythm of the Dove Cottage pea plot from the records of ‘sticking’. If each reference to this essential task from 19 May to 13 June represents a complete row of peas, it would suggest that, at its height, the rows had been originally sown at the horticulturally approved interval of a fortnight.
19th May. ‘Molly weeded the turnips, John stuck the peas’
2nd June. ‘John Fisher stuck the peas. Molly weeded and washed’
9th, 11th & 13th June. ‘In the evening I stuck peas, watered the garden & planted Brocoli [sic]’; ‘William stuck peas, after dinner he lay down – John not at home – I stuck peas alone – Molly washing.’; ‘Molly stuck peas. I weeded a little.’
William had to make more pea sticks on 20 June so the cultivation cycle must still have been rolling on into the summer. The first mention of a pea crop appears in an entry for Tuesday, 29 July; ‘still very hot, We gathered peas for dinner’. After an evening walk Dorothy ‘was sick & weary’.
A new tempo now began as it was necessary to keep harvesting pods that were ready to pick. By doing so the plants were stimulated into further flowering and pod production. Each promising pod would have been carefully judged as picking too early was wasteful, but leaving the peas bulk up too much meant they were losing their tender sweetness. From now on the consecutive rows of plants would be developing in steady sequence from seedlings to, finally, podding plants.
The many analogies between the organic growth and the creative process have the danger of being too glib. Caught up in a laborious sequence of imperative tasks, the Wordsworths were probably too weary to care. In spite of this it must be said that the figurative possibilities of the entire pea plot are too tempting to completely ignore, constructed as it is in the form of a metrical store of peas with its own tuneless prosody. A creative idea or poem may be said to develop ‘organically’, that is as a single organism. As we shall see there is a greater potential for structure, if not form, when they are considered collectively. When you next have an opportunity, consider a vegetable garden or allotment. As verse manipulates words and the ideas of language, the individual plots can be seen as imposing an order on the otherwise feral plants such as the unruly pea. Both variously create something sustained, productive and, in some way, potentially nourishing.
Dorothy could now afford to be generous. The day after the first peas were picked more pods were ready, this time they were to be a gift for neighbours. Dorothy spent the following Sunday morning in the kitchen, that evening there were ‘peas for dinner’. Considering the customary frugality of the household we might take this last statement literally. The following Monday she ‘pulled a large basket of peas & sent to Keswick by a return chaise’. The sugar content decreases sharply after picking, hence the need for urgency. No doubt the Coleridges at Greta Hall relished the sweet, fresh peas which were presumably sent at some expense.
Bags and baskets of peas continued to be pulled over the coming weeks until, a month later, the season was turning and the longer rhythm of year was making itself felt. It was time to let the peas that remained on the plants completely mature into viable seed. When dried these would be stored to be the source of the follow year’s crop. Stripped of all that was useful, the remaining unproductive plants could then be unearthed. ‘Very cold – baking in the morning – gathered pea seeds & took up’ (22 August).
If the pea plot can be seen fancifully as a sort of horticultural verse form, then, as the final pods are left on the plants to mature into viable seed, we can see it as a some sort of sonnet. In the course of the last few rows there is an abrupt change of focus and tempo from the immediacy of harvest to an anticipation of the coming year. Certainly, insights of maturity and expectation are suitable subjects for a sonnet’s closing stanza. William, of course, admired the sonnet form, in Nuns fret not at their convent’s narrow room (1807) he does refer to ‘the Sonnet’s scanty plot of ground’.
Do gardeners feel the experience of cultivating in some way the same as being inside a tight verse form, either a creator or consumer? I do not know. If it is then to some degree it is in the maintenance of integrity and the creation of form and structure.
As far-fetched as the poetical analogy of the pea plot might be, there is one aspect that is authentic to the Wordsworths’ life and creative work, that is its embodiment and representation of order. As with many vegetables in the kitchen garden, the cultivation of peas was an exercise in painstaking care, but in maintaining this horticultural order one was rewarded with abundance. These gardening virtues feature by their absence in ‘The Ruined Cottage’ (The Excursion, 1814). The humbleness of the cottager is indicated by the modest length of the rows of peas. Her ‘peculiar pains’ have been applied to the cultivation of the carnation, a ‘fancy’ flower of the labouring classes, but also the sowing the two rows of peas, no doubt in succession. The consequences of poverty brought on by political and economic forces are reflected in the ‘silent overgrowings’ of the neglected garden, which climaxes in the pea plot. Here William invokes bindweed, one of the most nightmarish of garden weeds. Described with funereal imagery, the overwhelming weight of its unimpeded growth pulls down anthropomorphically the whole structure, both the crop and its support.
Prized for surpassing beauty, and no less
For the peculiar pains they had required,
Declined their languid heads, wanting support.
The cumbrous bind-weed, with its wreaths and bells,
Had twined about her two small rows of peas,
And dragged them to the earth.
Away from its use in imagery, the physical act of creating and maintaining the vegetable plot no doubt had its therapeutic effects on both brother and sister. The concentrated cycles of the kitchen garden are one of the most intimate everyday relationships between humanity and the plant world. William formulated a joke on the sort of mental diversion that work in the kitchen garden can bring about, no doubt at times both necessary and welcome.
We plant cabbages … and if retirement in its full perfection be as powerful in working transformations as one of Ovid’s gods, you may perhaps suspect that into cabbages we shall be transformed.
Wordsworth to William Matthews, Racedown Lodge, 21st March 1796.
Summer in the kitchen garden imposed an exacting external order on the Wordsworths, a mind-emptying physical exertion that helped support both their corporeal existence and creative lives.
Gareth Evans writes articles on the history and culture of plants and their use (garethhevans.com). He worked in, and with, botanic gardens for 16 years, specialising in the history of plants and medicine. Recent Highlights include: ‘Seeds of Inspiration’, Linder Memorial Lecture, Beatrix Potter Society, March 2018, and ‘Keats’s Flight from the Vegetable Monster’, a paper at the 4th Bicentennial John Keats Conference 1817.