Guilt and Sorrow; or, Incidents upon Salisbury Plain Composed |
Guilt and Sorrow; or, Incidents upon Salisbury Plain Composed 1791-4.--Published as The Female Vagrant in "Lyrical Ballads" in 1798, and as Guilt and Sorrow in the "Poems of Early and Late Years," and in "Poems written in Youth," in 1845, and onward. The Poem
Advertisement, Prefixed To The First Edition Of This Poem, Published In 1842. Not less than one-third of the following poem, though it has from time to time been altered in the expression, was published so far back as the year 1798, under the title of The Female Vagrant. The extract is of such length that an apology seems to be required for reprinting it here; but it was necessary to restore it to its original position, or the rest would have been unintelligible. The whole was written before the close of the year 1794, and I will detail, rather as matter of literary biography than for any other reason, the circumstances under which it was produced. During the latter part of the summer of 1793, having passed a month in the Isle of Wight, in view of the fleet which was then preparing for sea off Portsmouth at the commencement of the war, I left the place with melancholy forebodings. The American war was still fresh in memory. The struggle which was beginning, and which many thought would be brought to a speedy close by the irresistible arms of Great Britain being added to those of the allies, I was assured in my own mind would be of long continuance, and productive of distress and misery beyond all possible calculation. This conviction was pressed upon me by having been a witness, during a long residence in revolutionary France, of the spirit which prevailed in that country. After leaving the Isle of Wight, I spent twoA days in wandering on foot over Salisbury Plain, which, though cultivation was then widely spread through parts of it, had upon the whole a still more impressive appearance than it now retains.
The monuments and traces of antiquity, scattered in abundance over that region, led me unavoidably to compare what we know or guess of those remote times with certain aspects of modern society, and with calamities, principally those consequent upon war, to which, more than other classes of men, the poor are subject. In those reflections, joined with some particular facts that had come to my knowledge, the following stanzas originated.
In conclusion, to obviate some distraction in the minds of those who are well acquainted with Salisbury Plain, it may be proper to say, that of the features described as belonging to it, one or two are taken from other desolate parts of England.
Unwilling to be unnecessarily particular, I have assigned this poem to the dates 1793 and '94; but, in fact, much of the Female Vagrant's story was composed at least two years before. All that relates to her sufferings as a sailor's wife in America, and her condition of mind during her voyage home, were faithfully taken from the report made to me of her own case by a friend who had been subjected to the same trials, and affected in the same way. Mr. Coleridge, when I first became acquainted with him, was so much impressed with this poem, that it would have encouraged me to publish the whole as it then stood; but the mariner's fate appeared to me so tragical, as to require a treatment more subdued, and yet more strictly applicable in expression, than I had at first given to it. This fault was corrected nearly sixty years afterwards, when I determined to publish the whole. It may be worth while to remark, that, though the incidents of this attempt do only in a small degree produce each other, and it deviates accordingly from the general rule by which narrative pieces ought to be governed, it is not, therefore, wanting in continuous hold upon the mind, or in unity, which is effected by the identity of moral interest that places the two personages upon the same footing in the reader's sympathies. My ramble over many parts of Salisbury Plain put me, as mentioned in the preface, upon writing this poem, and left upon my mind imaginative impressions, the force of which I have felt to this day. From that district I proceeded to Bath, Bristol, and so on to the banks of the Wye; where I took again to travelling on foot. In remembrance of that part of my journey, which was in '93, I began the verses,—'Five years have passed,' etc.—I. F.
The foregoing is the Fenwick note to Guilt and Sorrow. The note to The Female Vagrant,—which was the title under which one-third of the longer poem appeared in all the complete editions prior to 1845—is as follows.—Ed.
I find the date of this is placed in 1792, in contradiction, by mistake, to what I have asserted in Guilt and Sorrow. The correct date is 1793-4. The chief incidents of it, more particularly her description of her feelings on the Atlantic, are taken from life.—I. F.
In 1798 there were thirty stanzas in this poem; in 1802, twenty-six; in 1815, fourteen; in 1820, twenty-five. Stanzas I. to XXII., XXXV. to XXXVII., and LI. to LXXIV. occur only in the collected edition of 1842, vol. vii. (also published as "Poems, chiefly of Early and Late Years"), and in subsequent editions. Wordsworth placed The Female Vagrant among his "Juvenile Pieces" from 1815 to 1832. In 1836, he included it along with Descriptive Sketches in his Table of ContentsB; but as he numbered it IV. in the text—the other poems belonging to the "Juvenile Pieces" being numbered I. II. and III.—it is clear that he meant it to remain in that class. The "Poems written in Youth," of the edition of 1845, include many others in addition to the "Juvenile Pieces" of editions 1815 to 1836.—Ed.
cross-reference: return to Footnote D of Descriptive Sketches
The Poem
Variant 1: | 1845 | | Three years ...
| 1842 | return to variant mark
Variant 2: | 1845 | | ... rose and pursued ...
| 1842 | return
Variant 3: | 1845 | | ... demoniac ...
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Variant 4: | 1845 | | Than he who now at night-fall treads thy bare domain!
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Variant 5: | 1845 | | And, from its perilous shelter driven, ...
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Variant 6: The following stanza was only in the editions of 1798 and 1800: By Derwent's side my Father's cottage stood,
(The Woman thus her artless story told)
One field, a flock, and what the neighbouring flood
Supplied, to him were more than mines of gold.
Light was my sleep; my days in transport roll'd:
With thoughtless joy I stretch'd along the shore
My father's nets, or watched, when from the fold
High o'er the cliffs I led my fleecy store,
A dizzy depth below! his boat and twinkling oar.
... or from the mountain fold
Saw on the distant lake his twinkling oar
Or watch'd his lazy boat still less'ning more and more.
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1798
1800 | return
Variant 7: | 1842 | | My father was a good and pious man,
An honest man by honest parents bred,
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Variant 8: Stanzas XXIV. and XXV. were omitted from the editions of 1802 and 1805. They were restored in 1820.
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Variant 9: | 1842 | | Can I forget what charms did once adorn
My garden, stored with pease, and mint, and thyme,
And rose and lilly for the sabbath morn?
The sabbath bells, and their delightful chime;
The gambols and wild freaks at shearing time;
My hen's rich nest through long grass scarce espied;
The cowslip-gathering at May's dewy prime;
The swans, that, when I sought the water-side,
From far to meet me came, spreading their snowy pride.
Can I forget our croft and plot of corn;
Our garden, stored ...
The cowslip-gathering in June's dewy prime;
The swans, that with white chests upheaved in pride,
Rushing and racing came to meet me at the waterside.
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1798
1836
1820
1836 | return
Variant 10: return
Variant 11: return
Variant 12: | 1836 | | My watchful dog, whose starts of furious ire,
When stranger passed, so often I have check'd;
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1798 | return
Variant 13: return
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Variant 15: | 1845 | | The suns of twenty summers danced along,—
Ah! little marked, how fast they rolled away:
Then rose a mansion proud our woods among,
And cottage after cottage owned its sway,
No joy to see a neighbouring house, or stray
Through pastures not his own, the master took;
My Father dared his greedy wish gainsay;
He loved his old hereditary nook,
And ill could I the thought of such sad parting brook.
Then rose a stately hall our woods among,
... how fast they rolled away:
But, through severe mischance, and cruel wrong,
My father's substance fell into decay;
We toiled, and struggled—hoping for a day
When Fortune should put on a kinder look;
But vain were wishes—efforts vain as they:
He from his old hereditary nook
Must part,—the summons came,—our final leave we took.
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1798
1800
1820 | return
Variant 16: The following stanza occurs only in the editions 1798 to 1805: But, when he had refused the proffered gold, To cruel injuries he became a prey, Sore traversed in whate'er he bought and sold: His troubles grew upon him day by day, Till all his substance fell into decay. His little range of water was deniedi;
All but the bed where his old body lay,
All, all was seized, and weeping, side by side,
We sought a home where we uninjured might abide.
And all his substance fell into decay.
They dealt most hardly with him, and he tried
To move their hearts—but it was vain—for they
Seized all he had; and, weeping ...
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1798
1802-5 | return
Variant 17: | 1820 | | Can I forget that miserable hour,
It was in truth a lamentable hour
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1802 | return
Variant 18: | 1798 | | I saw our own dear home, that was ...
| 1802 | The edition of 1820 returns to the text of 1798.
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Variant 19: | 1827 | | ... many and many a song
| 1798 | return
Variant 20: | 1800 | | ... little birds ...
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Variant 21: | 1836 | | His father said, that to a distant town
He must repair, to ply the artist's trade.
Two years were pass'd, since to a distant Town
He had repair'd to ply the artist's trade.
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1798
1802 | return
Variant 22: | 1802 | | Four years each day with daily bread was blest,
By constant toil and constant prayer supplied.
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1798 | return
Variant 23: | 1836 | | Three lovely infants lay upon my breast;
| 1798 | return
Variant 24: | 1842 | | When sad distress...
| 1798 | return
Variant 25: | 1836 | | ... from him the grave did hide . ... for him ...
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1820 | return
Variant 26: | 1798 | | ... which ...
| Only in 1820. | return
Variant 27: return
Variant 28: | 1798 | | But soon, day after day, ...
| 1802 | The edition of 1820 reverts to the reading of 1798.
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Variant 29: | 1836 | | ... to sweep ...
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Variant 30: | 1836 | | There foul neglect for months and months we bore,
Nor yet the crowded fleet its anchor stirred.
There, long were we neglected, and we bore
Much sorrow ere the fleet its anchor weigh'd;
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1798
1802 | return
Variant 31: | 1802 | | Green fields before us and our native shore,
By fever, from polluted air incurred,
Ravage was made, for which no knell was heard.
Fondly we wished, and wished away, nor knew,
'Mid that long sickness, and those hopes deferr'd,
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Variant 32: | 1802 | | But from delay the summer calms were past.
| 1798 | return
Variant 33: | 1802 | | We gazed with terror on the gloomy sleep
Of them that perished in the whirlwind's sweep,
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Variant 34: Oh! dreadful price of being to resign
All that is dear in being! better far
In Want's most lonely cave till death to pine,
Unseen, unheard, unwatched by any star;
Or in the streets and walks where proud men are,
Better our dying bodies to obtrude,
Than dog-like, wading at the heels of war,
Protract a curst existence, with the brood
That lap (their very nourishment!) their brother's blood.
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Only in the editions of 1798 and 1800. | return
Variant 35: | 1842 | | It would thy brain unsettle even to hear.
| 1798 | return
Variant 36: | 1842 | | Peaceful as some immeasurable plain
By the first beams of dawning light impress'd,
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Variant 37: | 1827 | | ... has its hour of rest,
That comes not to the human mourner's breast.
I too was calm, though heavily distress'd!
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1802 | return
Variant 38: | 1842 | | Remote from man, and storms of mortal care,
A heavenly silence did the waves invest;
I looked and looked along the silent air,
Until it seemed to bring a joy to my despair.
Oh me, how quiet sky and ocean were!
My heart was healed within me, I was bless'd.
And looked, and looked ...
My heart was hushed within me, ...
As quiet all within me, ...
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1798
1802
1815
1827 | return
Variant 39: | 1800 | | Where looks inhuman dwelt on festering heaps!
| 1798 | return
Variant 40: The following stanza appeared only in the editions 1798-1805: Yet does that burst of woe congeal my frame,
When the dark streets appeared to heave and gape,
While like a sea the storming army came,
And Fire from Hell reared his gigantic shape,
And Murder, by the ghastly gleam, and Rape
Seized their joint prey, the mother and the child!
But from these crazing thoughts my brain, escape!
—For weeks the balmy air breathed soft and mild,
And on the gliding vessel Heaven and Ocean smiled.
At midnight once the storming Army came,
Yet do I see the miserable sight,
The Bayonet, the Soldier, and the Flame
That followed us and faced us in our flight:
When Rape and Murder by the ghastly light
Seized their joint prey, the Mother and the Child!
But I must leave these thoughts.—From night to night,
From day to day, the air breathed soft and mild;
And on the gliding vessel Heaven and Ocean smiled.
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1798
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Variant 41: | 1802 | | And oft, robb'd of my perfect mind, I thought
At last my feet a resting-place had found:
Here will I weep in peace, (so fancy wrought,)
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Variant 42: | 1842 | | Here watch, of every human friend disowned,
All day, my ready tomb the ocean-flood—
Here will I live:—of every friend disown'd,
Here will I roam about the ocean flood.—
And end my days upon the ocean flood."—
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1798
1802
1815 | return
Variant 43: | 1842 | | By grief enfeebled was I turned adrift,
Helpless as sailor cast on desart rock;
Helpless as sailor cast on some bare rock;
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1798
1836 | return
Variant 44: return
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Variant 47: | 1836 | | So passed another day, and so the third:
Then did I try, in vain, the crowd's resort,
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Variant 48: | 1827 | | Dizzy my brain, with interruption short
And I had many interruptions short
| 1798
1802 | return
Variant 49: return
Variant 50: | 1827 | | And thence was borne away to neighbouring hospital.
And thence was carried to a neighbouring Hospital.
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1802 | return
Variant 51: | 1827 | | Recovery came with food: but still, my brain
Was weak, nor of the past had memory.
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Variant 52: | 1842 | | ... with careless cruelty,
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Variant 54: return
Variant 55: | 1827 | | Memory, though slow, returned with strength; ...
My memory and my strength returned; ...
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1802 | return
Variant 56: | 1802 | | The wild brood ...
| 1798 | return
Variant 57: The following stanza occurs only in the editions of 1798 to 1805: My heart is touched to think that men like these,
The rude earth's tenants, were my first relief:
How kindly did they paint their vagrant ease!
And their long holiday that feared not grief,
For all belonged to all, and each was chief.
No plough their sinews strained; on grating road
No wain they drove, and yet, the yellow sheaf
In every vale for their delight was stowed:
For them, in nature's meads, the milky udder flowed.
My heart is touched to think that men like these,
Wild houseless Wanderers, were my first relief:
In every field, with milk their dairy overflow'd.
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1798
1802
1802 | return
Variant 58: | 1836 | | Semblance, with straw and pannier'd ass, they made
Of potters wandering on from door to door:
But life of happier sort to me pourtrayed,
They with their pannier'd Asses semblance made
Of Potters ...
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1798
1802 | return
Variant 59: | 1836 | | In depth of forest glade, when ...
Among the forest glades when ...
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1802 | return
Variant 60: | 1802 | | But ill it suited me, in journey dark
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Variant 61: | 1802 | | Poor father! ...
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Variant 62: return
Variant 63: | 1842 | | With tears whose course no effort could confine,
By high-way side forgetful would I sit
By the road-side forgetful would I sit
In the open air forgetful ...
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1798
1802
1836 | return
Variant 64: return
Variant 65: | 1836 | | I lived upon the mercy of the fields,
And oft of cruelty the sky accused;
On hazard, or what general bounty yields,
I led a wandering life among the fields;
Contentedly, yet sometimes self-accused,
I liv'd upon what casual bounty yields,
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1798
1802 | return
Variant 66: return
Variant 67: | 1836 | | Three years a wanderer, often have I view'd,
In tears, the sun towards that country tend
Three years thus wandering, ...
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Variant 68: | 1836 | | And now across this moor my steps I bend—
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Footnote A: In the Prelude, he says it was "three summer days." See book xiii. l. 337.—Ed.
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Footnote B: By an evident error, corrected in the first reprint of this edition (1840). See p. 37.—Ed.
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Footnote C: From a short MS. poem read to me when an under-graduate, by my schoolfellow and friend Charles Farish, long since deceased. The verses were by a brother of his, a man of promising genius, who died young.—W. W. 1842.
Charles Farish was the author of The Minstrels of Winandermere.—Ed.
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Footnote D: Compare Milton's "grinding sword," Paradise Lost, vi. l. 329.—Ed.
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Sub-Footnote i: Several of the Lakes in the north of England are let out to different Fishermen, in parcels marked out by imaginary lines drawn from rock to rock.—W. W. 1798.
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