My Review of The Ballad of Dorothy Wordsworth by Frances Wilson
An intimate portrait of a fascinating woman that doesn’t spare the Freudian allusions, that’s for sure.
Frances Wilson’s The Ballad of Dorothy Wordsworth is an exquisite and deeply insightful biography that delves into the life of Dorothy Wordsworth, sister of the celebrated poet William Wordsworth. Dorothy’s complex inner world, her intense relationship with her brother, and her role in the creation of some of English literature’s most cherished works are explored in excruciating detail. Wilson constructs an elaborate timeline of Dorothy’s literary productions and illnesses, in order to delve below the surface of this captivating woman.
Dorothy is often remembered as the devoted sister who lived in her brother’s shadow. Never voicing a complaint about being lesser known, despite possessing a sensitive nature and an arresting literary voice, we wonder what Dorothy felt about her role as sister and housekeeper, diarist and creative foil. Utilizing classical forms, Wilson writes that Dorothy was Echo to William’s Narcissus, a “dark mirror” (Chapter 2, To Have to Hold: Home). If Dorothy had a problem with remaining a backup singer in William’s band, despite having a fine mind that was a self-described “mansion for all lovely forms”, she never ventured a direct accusation, a raging rant against the morays of the time, or a withering degradation of, say, Mary Hutchinson (William’s wife)…but we as readers suspect much, in part due to Wilson’s sly prose, which freely speculates on Dorothy’s sublimated authorial ambitions and sexual desires.
In this book, Dorothy’s immense sensitivity and susceptibility to outside people, places, and things is highlighted. Wilson’s narrative is filled with a lyrical quality that mirrors Dorothy’s own expressive prose, allowing readers to feel the emotional depths and imaginative brilliance of this remarkable woman. Wilson details the vacillating, scintillating quality of Dorothy’s perceptions that leads William to define her as a wellspring of sensibility. For every flower, tree, and cloud, Dorothy indeed seems to have a reflection or mood, light or dark, happy or sad, and a similarly corresponding philosophical insight. Dorothy’s appeal to William seems to be that of a cat perched on a garden fence, miraculously poised, seconds from disaster. On the boundary between heaven and Earth, she is as familiar with the sublime as she is with a nice hot cup of tea, just as cozy with divinity as with a well-swept parlor and a tidy kitchen. As long as she can keep embracing that dichotomy, affecting that celestial posture while delivering the meals on time, she is a muse and essential companion for her famous brother. Just so long as she can keep doing that.
Wilson carefully examines Dorothy’s relationship with William, a bond that was both intensely loving and creatively symbiotic. It is an unusually close relationship, and Wilson explores the idea that it might be an incestuous one. Wilson notes that Dorothy uses terms like “beloved” and “darling”, and that she describes “petting” him. Certain journal entries are missing, uncharacteristic of the hyper-literary Dorothy. (Did she destroy them after detailing her sexual exploits?) Dorothy suffers a complete mental breakdown after William marries, and Wilson wonders whether Dorothy has fixed her libido on her brother, consummated or no, or whether the breakdown is due to the displacement as mistress of the house, a possible displacement as his muse, or all of these factors together (Chapter 4, To Forsake All Others: Incest). We simply don’t know.
Wilson also delves into how Dorothy Wordsworth’s physical and emotional states and her perceptions of the natural world. In Chapter 3, “In Sickness and in Health: Headaches,” Wilson vividly captures how Dorothy’s migraines seem to shape her experiences of nature, imbuing her observations with a reverberant, aural quality. This connection between her internal and external climates becomes a defining aspect of Dorothy’s life, where the physical pain of migraines and the ecstasy of her sensory experiences are inextricably linked.
Expanding on this idea, Wilson explores how the onset of a migraine for Dorothy is often preceded by a sense of euphoria, a fleeting moment when the world appears harmonious and sympathetic, as if nature itself is in perfect alignment with her internal state. This heightened perception transforms her experience of the natural world into something almost mystical, where every detail seems to pulsate with life and meaning. However, this euphoria is ephemeral, as it soon gives way to the debilitating pain of the headache itself, a collapse into physical incapacitation where the world closes in on her.
Yet, even in these moments of intense suffering, Dorothy’s connection to nature remains profound. Her descriptions, interrupted by her internal climate, capture the duality of her existence — she is either in a state of ecstatic communion with the world or overwhelmed by pain. Wilson portrays this as a kind of cyclical journey, where the departure of the headache brings about a sense of renewal and rebirth. Dorothy rises from the depths of her pain to once again embrace the world, her senses heightened and her spirit rejuvenated.
Dorothy isn’t the only sickly one in the cottage. Wilson underscores how Dorothy and William seem to pass their illnesses back and forth like batons in a relay. Their shared experiences of physical and emotional extremes forge a connection that goes beyond mere sibling affection; it becomes an existential partnership. Dorothy’s migraines, and the intense fluctuations in her internal climate, resonate with William’s own struggles, creating a shared rhythm of suffering and renewal that underpins their lives and their work. Just as nature throbs, so throb brother and sister, bulging and retracting in response to the patterns of wind and rain, time and tide.
None of this ends well. In her later years, Dorothy descends into madness, and Wilson explores diagnoses, speculating about depression and pseudo-dementia. After her Grasmere journals, covering the dates 1800–1803, Dorothy appears to produce no significant journals, probably due to declining health. She stalks back rooms, she flaps and squawks, like the spectral madwoman in Jane Eyre. She cannot teeter forever. Edward Quillinan wrote that, paradoxically, after the death of William, Dorothy was briefly revitalized, if only for a short time. “She is almost the Miss Wordsworth we knew”. Almost, but not quite. Better luck next lifetime, Dorothy.
In conclusion, The Ballad of Dorothy Wordsworth by Frances Wilson is a beautifully written, deeply researched, and emotionally resonant biography that brings Dorothy Wordsworth out of the shadows and into the light she so deserves. It’s a must-read for anyone interested in the Romantic period, literary history, or the complex dynamics of sibling relationships. Through Wilson’s masterful storytelling, Dorothy emerges not just as William Wordsworth’s sister but as a vital and vibrant figure in her own right, whose legacy continues to inspire.
Reference
Wilson, Frances. The Ballad of Dorothy Wordsworth. Kindle ed., Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2008.
