Wordsworth in his home. I stumbled on him with proof sheets before
him. He read me nearly all the sweet stanzas written in his copy of
the 'Castle of Indolence', describing himself and my uncle; and he and
Mrs. W. both assured me the description of the latter at that time was
perfectly accurate; and he was almost as a great boy in feelings, and
had all the tricks and fancies there described. Mrs. W. seemed to look
back on him, and those times, with the fondest affection."
I think "the neighbouring height" referred to is the height of White
Moss Common, behind the Fir-Grove, where Wordsworth was often heard
murmuring out his verses," booing" as the country folks said: and the
'driving full in view
At midday when the sun was shining bright,'
aptly describes his habits as recorded in his sister's Journal, and
elsewhere. The "withered flower," the "creature pale and wan," are
significant of those terrible reactions of spirit, which followed his
joyous hours of insight and inspiration. Stanzas IV. to VII. of
'Resolution and Independence' (p. 314), in which Wordsworth undoubtedly
described himself, may be compared with stanza III. of this poem. The
lines
'Down would he sit; and without strength or power
Look at the common grass from hour to hour,'
are aptly illustrated by such passages in his sister's Journal, as the
following, of 29th April 1802:
"We went to John's Grove, sate a while at first; afterwards William
lay, and I lay in the trench, under the fence--he with his eyes
closed, and listening to the waterfalls and the birds. There was no
one waterfall above another--it was a kind of water in the air--the
voice of the air. We were unseen by one another."
Again, April 23rd,
"Coleridge and I pushed on before. We left William sitting on the
stones, feasting with silence."
And this recalls the first verse of 'Expostulation and Reply', written
at Alfoxden in 1798;
'Why, William, on that old grey stone,
Thus for the length of half a day,
Why, William, sit you thus alone,
And dream your time away?'
The retreat where "apple-trees in blossom made a bower," and where he so
often "slept himself away," was evidently the same as that described in
the poem 'The Green Linnet':
'Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed
Their snow white blossoms on my head.'
On the other hand, the "low-hung lip" and "profound" forehead of the
other, the "noticeable Man with large grey eyes," mark him out as S. T.
C.; "the rapt One, of the god-like forehead," described in the
'Extempore Effusion upon the Death of James Hogg'. The description
"Noisy he was, and gamesome as a boy," is verified by what the poet and
his wife said to Mr. Justice Coleridge in 1836. In addition, Mr.
Hutchinson of Kimbolton tells me he "often heard his father say that
Coleridge was uproarious in his mirth."
Matthew Arnold wrote me an interesting letter some years ago about these
stanzas, from which I make the following extract:
"When one looks uneasily at a poem it is easy to fidget oneself
further, and neither the Wordsworth nor the Coleridge of our common
notions seem to be exactly hit off in the 'Stanzas'; still, I believe
that the first described is Wordsworth and that the second described
is Coleridge. I have myself heard Wordsworth speak of his prolonged
exhausting wanderings among the hills. Then Miss Fenwick's notes show
that Coleridge is certainly one of the two personages of the poem, and
there are points in the description of the second man which suit him
very well. The 'profound forehead' is a touch akin to the 'god-like
forehead' in the mention of Coleridge in a later poem.
"I have a sort of recollection of having heard something about the
'inventions rare,' and Coleridge is certain to have dabbled, at one
time or other, in natural philosophy."
In 1796 Coleridge wrote to his friend Cottle from Nether Stowey:
" ... I should not think of devoting less than 20 years to an Epic
Poem: ten to collect materials and warm my mind with universal
science. I would be a tolerable Mathematician, I would thoroughly know
Mechanics, Hydrostatics, Optics, and Astronomy, Botany, Metallurgy,
Fossilism, Chemistry, Geology, Anatomy, Medicine--then the 'mind of
man'--then the 'minds of men'--in all Travels, Voyages, and Histories.
So I would spend ten years--the next five to the composition of the
poem--and the last five to the correction of it. So would I write,
haply not unhearing of the divine and rightly whispering Voice," etc.
Mr. T. Hutchinson (Dublin) writes in 'The Athenaeum', Dec. 15, 1894:
"I take it for granted these lines were written, not only on the
fly-leaf of Wordsworth's copy of the 'Castle of Indolence', but also
by way of Supplement to that poem; i. e. as an 'addendum' to the
descriptive list of the denizens of the Castle given in stanzas
LVII-LXIX of Canto I.; that, in short, they are meant to be read as
though they were an after-thought of James Thomson's. Their author,
therefore, has rightly imparted to them the curiously blended flavour
of 'romantic melancholy and slippered mirth,' of dreamlike vagueness
and smiling hyperbole, which forms the distinctive mark of Thomson's
poem; and thus the Poet and the Philosopher-Friend of Wordsworth's
stanzas, like Thomson's companion sketches of the splenetic Solitary,
the 'bard more fat than bard beseems,' and the 'little, round, fat,
oily Man of God,' are neither more nor less than gentle caricatures."
It has been suggested by Coleridge's grandson that Wordsworth was
describing S. T. C. in all the stanzas of this poem; that he drew two
separate pictures of him; in the first four stanzas a realistic
"character portrait," and in the last four a "companion picture,
figuring the outward semblance of Coleridge, but embodying
characteristics drawn from a third person"; so that we have a "fancy
sketch" mixed up with a real one. I cannot agree with this. The
evidence against it is
(1) Dorothy Wordsworth's Journal;
(2) the poet's and his wife's remarks to Mr. Justice Coleridge;
(3) the fact that Wordsworth was not in the habit of "passing from
realism into artistic composition," except where he distinctly
indicated it, as in the case of the Hawkshead Schoolmaster, in the
"Matthew" poems. Such composite or conglomerate work was quite
foreign to Wordsworth's genius.
Ed.
* * * * *
RESOLUTION AND INDEPENDENCE
Begun May 3, finished July 4, 1802.--Published 1807
[Written at Town-end, Grasmere. This old man I met a few hundred yards
from my cottage; and the account of him is taken from his own mouth. I
was in the state of feeling described in the beginning of the poem,
while crossing over Barton Fell from Mr. Clarkson's, at the foot of
Ullswater, towards Askham. The image of the hare I then observed on the
ridge of the Fell.--I.F.]
This poem was known in the Wordsworth household as "The Leech-Gatherer,"
although it never received that name in print. An entry in Dorothy
Wordsworth's Journal of Friday, 3rd October 1800, may preface what she
wrote in 1802 about the composition of the poem.
"When William and I returned from accompanying Jones, we met an old
man almost double. He had on a coat thrown over his shoulders above
his waistcoat and coat. Under this he carried a bundle, and had an
apron on, and a night-cap. His face was interesting. He had dark eyes,
and a long nose. John, who afterwards met him at Wytheburn, took him
for a Jew. He was of Scotch parents, but had been born in the army. He
had had a wife, 'and a good woman, and it pleased God to bless him
with ten children.' All these were dead but one, of whom he had not
heard for many years, a sailor. His trade was to gather leeches; but
now leeches were scarce, and he had not strength for it. He lived by
begging, and was making his way to Carlisle where he would buy a few
books to sell. He said leeches were very scarce, partly owing to this
dry season; but many years they had been scarce. He supposed it was
owing to their being much sought after; that they did not breed fast;
and were of slow growth. Leeches were formerly 2s. 6d. the 100; now
they were 30s. He had been hurt in driving a cart, his leg broken, his
body driven over, his skull fractured. He felt no pain till he
recovered from his first insensibility. It was late in the evening,
when the light was just going away."
It is most likely that this walk of William and Dorothy Wordsworth
"accompanying Jones," was on the day of Jones's departure from Dove
Cottage, viz. 26th September.
The Journal continues:
"Tuesday, 4th May, 1802.--Though William went to bed nervous and jaded
in the extreme, he rose refreshed. I wrote out 'The Leech-Gatherer'
for him, which he had begun the night before, and of which he wrote
several stanzas in bed this morning...."
(They started to walk up the Raise to Wytheburn.)
"It was very hot; we rested several times by the way, read, and
repeated 'The Leech-Gatherer.'"
"Friday, 7th May.--William had slept uncommonly well, so, feeling
himself strong, he fell to work at 'The Leech-Gatherer'; he wrote hard
at it till dinner time, then he gave over, tired to death--he had
finished the poem."
"Sunday morning, 9th May.--William worked at 'The Leech-Gatherer'
almost incessantly from morning till tea-time. I copied 'The
Leech-Gatherer' and other poems for Coleridge. I was oppressed and
sick at heart, for he wearied himself to death."
"Sunday, 4th July.--... William finished 'The Leech-Gatherer' to-day."
"Monday, 5th July.--I copied out 'The Leech-Gatherer' for Coleridge,
and for us."
From these extracts it is clear that Dorothy Wordsworth considered the
poem as "finished" on the 7th of May, and on the 9th she sent a copy to
Coleridge; but that it was not till the 4th of July that it was really
finished, and then a second copy was forwarded to Coleridge. It is
impossible to say from which of the two MSS. sent to him Coleridge
transcribed the copy which he forwarded to Sir George Beaumont. From
that copy of a copy (which is now amongst the Beaumont MSS. at
Coleorton) the various readings given, on Coleridge's authority, in the
notes to the poem, were obtained some years ago.
The Fenwick note to the poem illustrates Wordsworth's habit of blending
in one description details which were originally separate, both as to
time and place. The scenery and the incidents of the poem are alike
composite. As he tells us that he met the leech-gatherer a few hundred
yards from Dove Cottage, the "lonely place" with its "pool, bare to the
eye of heaven," at once suggests White Moss Common and its small tarn;
but he adds that, in the opening stanzas of the poem, he is describing a
state of feeling he was in, when crossing the fells at the foot of
Ullswater to Askam, and that the image of the hare "running races in her
mirth," with the glittering mist accompanying her, was observed by him,
not on White Moss Common, but in one of the ridges of Moor Divock. To H.
C. Robinson he said of the "Leech-Gatherer" (Sept. 10, 1816), that "he
gave to his poetic character powers of mind which his original did not
possess." (Robinson's 'Diary', etc., vol. ii. p. 24.)
One of the "Poems of the Imagination."--Ed.
I There was a roaring in the wind all night;
The rain came heavily and fell in floods;
But now the sun is rising calm and bright;
The birds are singing in the distant woods;
Over his own sweet voice the Stock-dove broods; 5
The Jay makes answer as the Magpie chatters;
And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.
II All things that love the sun are out of doors;
The sky rejoices in the morning's birth;
The grass is bright with rain-drops;--on the moors 10
The hare is running races in her mirth;
And with her feet she from the plashy earth
Raises a mist; that, [1] glittering in the sun,
Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.
III I was a Traveller then upon the moor; 15
I saw the hare that raced about with joy;
I heard the woods and distant waters roar;
Or heard them not, as happy as a boy:
The pleasant season did my heart employ:
My old remembrances went from me wholly; 20
And all the ways of men, so vain and melancholy.
IV But, as it sometimes chanceth, from the might
Of joy in minds that can no further go,
As high as we have mounted in delight
In our dejection do we sink as low; 25
To me that morning did it happen so;
And fears and fancies thick upon me came;
Dim sadness--and blind thoughts, I knew not, nor could name.
V I heard the sky-lark warbling [2] in the sky;
And I bethought me of the playful hare: 30
Even such a happy Child of earth am I;
Even as these blissful [3] creatures do I fare;
Far from the world I walk, and from all care;
But there may come another day to me--
Solitude, pain of heart, distress, and poverty. 35
VI My whole life I have lived in pleasant thought,
As if life's business were a summer mood;
As if all needful things would come unsought
To genial faith, still rich in genial good; [4]
But how can He expect that others should 40
Build for him, sow for him, and at his call
Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all? [A]
VII I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous Boy,
The sleepless Soul that perished in his pride; [5]
Of Him who walked in glory and in joy 45
Following his plough, along the mountain-side: [6]
By our own spirits are we deified:
We Poets in our youth begin in gladness;
But thereof come [7] in the end despondency and madness.
VIII Now, whether it were [8] by peculiar grace, 50
A leading from above, a something given,
Yet it befel, that, in this [9] lonely place,
When I with these untoward thoughts had striven,
Beside a pool bare to the eye of heaven [10]
I saw [11] a Man before me unawares: 55
The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.
[12]
IX As a huge stone is sometimes seen to lie
Couched on the bald top of an eminence;
Wonder to all who [13] do the same espy,
By what means it could thither come, and whence; 60
So that it seems a thing endued with sense:
Like a sea-beast crawled forth, that [14] on a shelf
Of rock or sand reposeth, there to sun itself;
X Such seemed this Man, not all alive nor dead,
Nor all asleep--in his extreme old age: 65
His body was bent double, feet and head
Coming together in life's pilgrimage; [15]
As if some dire constraint of pain, or rage
Of sickness felt by him in times long past,
A more than human weight upon his frame [16] had cast. 70
XI Himself he propped, limbs, body, and pale face, [17]
Upon a long grey staff of shaven wood:
And, still as I drew near with gentle pace,
Upon the margin of that moorish flood [18]
Motionless as a cloud the old Man stood, 75
That heareth not the loud winds when they call;
And moveth all together, if it move [19] at all.
[20]
XII At length, himself unsettling, he the pond
Stirred with his staff, and fixedly did look
Upon the muddy water, which he conned, 80
As if he had been reading in a book:
And now a stranger's privilege I took; [21]
And, drawing to his side, to him did say,
"This morning gives us promise of a glorious day."
XIII A gentle answer did the old Man make, 85
In courteous speech which forth he slowly drew:
And him with further words I thus bespake,
"What occupation do you there pursue? [22
This is a lonesome place for one like [23] you."
Ere he replied, a flash of mild surprise 90
Broke from the sable orbs of his yet-vivid eyes. [24] [B]
XIV His words came feebly, from a feeble chest,
But [25] each in solemn order followed each,
With something of a lofty [26] utterance drest--
Choice word [27] and measured phrase, above [27] the reach 95
Of ordinary men; a stately speech;
Such as grave Livers do in Scotland use,
Religious men, who give to God and man their dues.
XV He told, that to these waters he had come [28]
To gather leeches, being old and poor: 100
Employment hazardous and wearisome!
And he had many hardships to endure: [29]
From pond to pond he roamed, from moor to moor;
Housing, with God's good help, by choice or chance;
And in this way he gained an honest maintenance. 105
XVI The old Man still stood talking by my side;
But now [30] his voice to me was like a stream
Scarce heard; nor word from word could I divide;
And the whole body of the Man did seem
Like one whom I had met with in a dream; 110
Or like a man from some far region sent,
To give me human strength, by apt admonishment. [31]
XVII My former thoughts returned: the fear that kills;
And [32] hope that is unwilling to be fed;
Cold, pain, and labour, and all fleshly ills; 115
And mighty Poets in their misery dead.
--Perplexed, and longing to be comforted, [33]
My question eagerly did I renew,
"How is it that you live, and what is it you do?" [34]
XVIII He with a smile did then his words repeat; 120
And said, that, gathering leeches, far and wide
He travelled; stirring thus about his feet
The waters of the pools where they abide. [35]
"Once I could meet with them on every side;
But they have dwindled long by slow decay; 125
Yet still I persevere, and find them where I may." [36]
XIX While he was talking thus, the lonely place,
The old Man's shape, and speech--all troubled me:
In my mind's eye I seemed to see him pace
About the weary moors continually, 130
Wandering about alone and silently.
While I these thoughts within myself pursued,
He, having made a pause, the same discourse renewed.
XX And soon [37] with this he other matter blended,
Cheerfully uttered, with demeanour kind, 135
But stately in the main; and when he ended, [38]
I could have laughed myself to scorn to find
In that decrepit Man so firm a mind.
"God," said I, "be my help and stay secure;
I'll think of the Leech-gatherer on the lonely moor!" 140
* * * * *
VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Variant 1:
1827.
... which, ... 1807.
And in MS. letter from Coleridge to Sir George Beaumont, 1802.[i]]
[Variant 2:
1820.
... singing ... 1807.
And MS. 1802.]
[Variant 3:
1807.
... happy ... MS. 1802.]
[Variant 4:
1807.
And they who lived in genial faith found nought
that grew more willingly than genial good; MS. 1802.]
[Variant 5:
1815.
... who perished in his pride; MS. 1802.
... that perished in its pride; 1807.]
[Variant 6:
1820.
Behind his plough, upon the mountain-side: 1807.
And MS. 1802.]
[Variant 7:
1836.
... comes ... 1807.
And MS. 1802.]
[Variant 8:
1807.
... was ... MS. 1802.]
[Variant 9:
1807.
... that ... MS. 1802.]
[Variant 10:
1820.
When up and down my fancy thus was driven,
And I with these untoward thoughts had striven, 1807.
And MS. 1802.]
[Variant 11:
1807.
I spied ... MS. 1802.]
[Variant 12:
My course I stopped as soon as I espied
The Old Man in that naked wilderness:
Close by a Pond, upon the further side, [i]
He stood alone: a minute's space I guess
I watch'd him, he continuing motionless:
To the Pool's further margin then I drew;
He being all the while before me full in view. [ii] 1807.
This stanza, which appeared in the editions of 1807 and 1815, was, on
Coleridge's advice, omitted from subsequent ones.]
[Variant 13:
1807.
... that ... MS. 1802.]
[Variant 14:
1820.
... which ... 1807.
And MS. 1802.]
[Variant 15:
1820.
... in their pilgrimage 1807.
And MS. 1802.]
[Variant 16:
1807.
... his age ... MS. 1802.]
[Variant 17:
1836.
Himself he propp'd, both body, limbs, and face, MS. 1802.
... his body, ... 1807.]
[Variant 18:
1820.
Beside the little pond or moorish flood 1807.
And MS. 1802.]
[Variant 19.
1807.
... moves . . MS. 1802.]
[Variant 20.
He wore a Cloak the same as women wear
As one whose blood did needful comfort lack;
His face look'd pale as if it had grown fair;
And, furthermore he had upon his back,
Beneath his cloak, a round and bulky Pack;
A load of wool or raiment as might seem.
That on his shoulders lay as if it clave to him.
This stanza appeared only in MS. 1802.]
[Variant 21.
1820.
And now such freedom as I could I took; 1807.
And Ms. 1802.]
[Variant 22.
1820.
"What kind of work is that which you pursue? 1807.
And MS. 1802.]
[Variant 23.
1807.
... for such as ... MS.]
[Variant 24.
1836.
He answer'd me with pleasure and surprize;
And there was, while he spake, a fire about his eyes. 1807.
And MS. 1802.
He answered, while a flash of mild surprise
Broke from the sable orbs of his yet-vivid eyes. 1820.]
[Variant 25.
1820.
Yet ... 1807.
And MS. 1802.]
[Variant 26.
1807.
... pompous ... MS. 1802.]
[Variant 27.
1807.
...words ... MS.
...beyond ... MS. 1802.]
[Variant 28.
1827.
He told me that he to the pond had come ... MS. 1802.
....this pond ... 1807.]
[Variant 29.
1807.
This was his calling, better far than some,
Though he had ...... MS. 1802.]
[Variant 30:
1807.
But soon ... MS. 1802.]
[Variant 31:
1827.
... and strong admonishment. 1807.
... by strong admonishment. 1820.]
[Variant 32:
1815.
The ... 1807.
And MS. 1802.]
[Variant 33:
1820.
And now, not knowing what the Old Man had said, 1807.
And MS. 1802.
But now, perplex'd by what the Old Man had said, 1815.]
[Variant 34.
1807.
... live? what is it that you do?" MS. 1802.]
[Variant 35:
1827.
And said, that wheresoe'er they might be spied
He gather'd Leeches, stirring at his feet
The waters in the Ponds ... MS. 1802.
And said, that, gathering Leeches, far and wide
He travelled; stirring thus about his feet
The waters of the Ponds ... 1807.]
[Variant 36:
1807.
Once he could meet with them on every side;
But fewer they became from day to day,
And so his means of life before him died away. MS. 1802.]
[Variant 37:
1807.
And now ... MS. 1802.]
[Variant 38:
1807.
Which he delivered with demeanour kind,
Yet stately ... MS. 1802.]
* * * * *
SUB-VARIANTS ON THE TEXT
[Sub-Variant i:
... hither side, MS. 1802.]
[Sub-Variant ii:
He all the while before me being full in view. MS. 1802.]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES ON THE TEXT
[Footnote A: Some have thought that Wordsworth had S.T.C. in his mind,
in writing this stanza. I cannot agree with this. The value and interest
of the poem would be lessened by our imagining that Wordsworth's heart
never failed him; and that, when he appears to moralise at his own
expense, he was doing so at Coleridge's. Besides, the date of this poem,
taken in connection with entries in the Grasmere Journal of Dorothy
Wordsworth, makes it all but certain that Coleridge was not referred
to.--Ed.]
[Footnote B: Compare in 'The Matron of Jedborough and her Husband', p.
417, ll. 66-69:
'Some inward trouble suddenly
Broke from the Matron's strong black eye--
A remnant of uneasy light,
A flash of something over-bright!'
Ed.]
* * * * *
SUB-FOOTNOTE ON THE TEXT
[Sub-Footnote i: Additional variants obtained from this source are
inserted as "MS. 1802."--Ed.]
The late Bishop of Lincoln, in the 'Memoirs' of his uncle (vol. i. pp.
172, 173), quotes from a letter, written by Wordsworth "to some friends,
which has much interest as bearing on this poem. [C] The following are
extracts from it: