“My haunt and the main region of my song”;
And again he says that he will set out, like an adventurer,
“And through the human heart explore the way;
And look and listen—gathering whence I may,
Triumph, and thoughts no bondage1 can restrain.”
[216]
The discovery of humble2 life, of peasant character, of lowly, trivial scenes and incidents, as a field for poetry, was not original with Wordsworth. But he was the first English poet to explore this field thoroughly3, sympathetically, with steady and deepening joy. Burns had been there before him; but the song of Burns though clear and passionate4, was fitful. Cowper had been there before him; but Cowper was like a visitor from the polite world, never an inhabitant, never quite able to pierce gently, powerfully down to the realities of lowly life and abide5 in them. Crabbe had been there before him; but Crabbe was something of a pessimist6; he felt the rough shell of the nut, but did not taste the sweet kernel7.
Wordsworth, if I may draw a comparison from another art, was the Millet8 of English poetry. In his verse we find the same quality of perfect comprehension, of tender pathos9, of absolute truth interfused with delicate beauty that makes Millet’s Angelus, and The Gleaners and The Sower and The Sheepfold, immortal10 visions of the lowly life. Place beside these pictures, if you will, Wordsworth’s Solitary11 Reaper12, The Old Cumberland Beggar, Margaret
[217]
waiting in her ruined cottage for the husband who would never return, Michael, the old shepherd who stood, many and many a day, beside the unfinished sheepfold which he had begun to build with his lost boy,
“And never lifted up a single stone,”—
place these beside Millet’s pictures, and the poems will bear the comparison.
Coleridge called Wordsworth “a miner of the human heart.” But there is a striking peculiarity13 in his mining: he searched the most familiar places, by the most simple methods, to bring out the rarest and least suspected treasures. His discovery was that there is an element of poetry, like some metal of great value, diffused14 through the common clay of every-day life.
It is true that he did not always succeed in separating the precious metal from the surrounding dross15. There were certain limitations in his mind which prevented him from distinguishing that which was familiar and precious, from that which was merely familiar.
One of these limitations was his lack of a sense
[218]
of humour. At a dinner-party he announced that he was never witty16 but once in his life. When asked to narrate17 the instance, after some hesitation18 he said: “Well, I will tell you. I was standing19 some time ago at the entrance of my cottage at Rydal Mount. A man accosted20 me with the question, ‘Pray, sir, have you seen my wife pass by?’ Whereupon I said, ‘Why, my good friend, I didn’t know till this moment that you had a wife!’” The humour of this story is unintentional and lies otherwhere than Wordsworth thought. The fact that he was capable of telling it as a merry jest accounts for the presence of many queer things in his poetry. For example; the lines in Simon Lee,
“Few months of life has he in store
As he to you will tell,
For still the more he works, the more
Do his weak ankles swell:”
the stanza21 in Peter Bell, which Shelley was accused of having maliciously22 invented, but which was actually printed in the first edition of the poem,
“Is it a party in a parlour
Cramming23 just as they on earth were crammed24,
Some sipping25 punch—some sipping tea
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But, as you by their faces see,
All silent and all—damned?”
the couplet in the original version of The Blind Highland26 Boy which describes him as embarking27 on his voyage in
“A household tub, like one of those
Which women use to wash their clothes.”
It is quite certain, I think, that Wordsworth’s insensibility to the humourous side of things made him incapable28 of perceiving one considerable source of comfort and solace29 in lowly life. Plain and poor people get a great deal of consolation30, in their hard journey, out of the rude but keen fun that they take by the way. The sense of humour is a means of grace.
I doubt whether Wordsworth’s peasant-poetry has ever been widely popular among peasants themselves. There was an old farmer in the Lake Country who had often seen the poet and talked with him, and who remembered him well. Canon Rawnsley has made an interesting record of some of the old man’s reminiscences. When he was asked whether he had ever read any of Wordsworth’s
[220]
poetry, or seen any of his books about in the farmhouses31, he answered:
“Ay, ay, time or two. But ya’re weel aware there’s potry and potry. There’s potry wi’ a li’le bit pleasant in it, and potry sic as a man can laugh at or the childer understand, and some as takes a deal of mastery to make out what’s said, and a deal of Wordsworth’s was this sort, ye kna. You could tell fra the man’s faace his potry would niver have no laugh in it.”
But when we have admitted these limitations, it remains32 true that no other English poet has penetrated33 so deeply into the springs of poetry which rise by every cottage door, or sung so nobly of the treasures which are hidden in the humblest human heart, as Wordsworth has. This is his merit, his incomparable merit, that he has done so much, amid the hard conditions, the broken dreams, and the cruel necessities of life, to remind us how rich we are in being simply human.
Like Clifford, in the Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle,
“Love had he found in huts where poor men lie,”
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and thenceforth his chosen task was to explore the beauty and to show the power of that common love.
“There is a comfort in the strength of love;
’Twill make a thing endurable, which else
Would overset the brain or break the heart.”
He found the best portion of a good man’s life in
“His little, nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love.”
In The Old Cumberland Beggar he declared
“’Tis Nature’s law
That none, the meanest of created things,
Of forms created the most vile34 and brute35,
The dullest or most noxious36, should exist
Divorced from good—a spirit and pulse of good,
A life and soul, to every mode of being
Inseparably linked.”
And then he went on to trace, not always with full poetic37 inspiration, but still with many touches of beautiful insight, the good that the old beggar did and received in the world, by wakening among the peasants to whose doors he came from year to year, the memory of past deeds of charity, by giving them a sense of kinship with the world of want and sorrow, and by bestowing38 on them in their poverty
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the opportunity of showing mercy to one whose needs were even greater than their own; for,—the poet adds—with one of those penetrating39 flashes which are the surest mark of his genius,—
“Man is dear to man; the poorest poor
Long for some moments in a weary life
When they can know and feel that they have been,
Themselves, the fathers and the dealers40 out
Of some small blessings41; have been kind to such
As needed kindness, for this single cause
That we have all of us one human heart.”
Nor did Wordsworth forget, in his estimate of the value of the simplest life, those pleasures which are shared by all men.
“Nuns fret42 not at their convent’s narrow room;
And hermits43 are contented44 with their cells;
And students with their pensive45 citadels46;
Maids at the wheel, the weaver47 at his loom48,
Sit blithe49 and happy; bees that soar for bloom
High as the highest Peak of Furniss-fells,
Will murmur50 by the hour in fox-glove bells;
In truth the prison, unto which we doom51
Ourselves, no prison is.”
He sees a Miller52 dancing with two girls on the platform of a boat moored53 in the river Thames, and
[223]
breaks out into a song on the “stray pleasures” that are spread through the earth to be claimed by whoever shall find them. A little crowd of poor people gather around a wandering musician in a city street, and the poet cries,
“Now, coaches and chariots! roar on like a stream;
Here are twenty souls happy as souls in a dream;
They are deaf to your murmurs—they care not for you,
Nor what ye are flying, nor what ye pursue!”
He describes Coleridge and himself as lying together on the greensward in the orchard54 by the cottage at Grasmere, and says
“If but a bird, to keep them company,
Or butterfly sate55 down, they were, I ween,
As pleased as if the same had been a maiden56 Queen.”
It was of such simple and unchartered blessings that he loved to sing. He did not think that the vain or the worldly would care to listen to his voice. Indeed he said in a memorable57 passage of gentle scorn that he did not expect his poetry to be fashionable. “It is an awful truth,” wrote he to Lady Beaumont, “that there neither is nor can be any genuine enjoyment58 of poetry among nineteen out of twenty
[224]
of those persons who either live or wish to live in the broad light of the world,—among those who either are, or are striving to make themselves, people of consideration in society. This is a truth, and an awful one, because to be incapable of a feeling of poetry, in my sense of the word, is to be without love of human nature and reverence59 for God.” He did not expect that his poetry would be popular in that world where men and women devote themselves to the business of pleasure, and where they care only for the things that minister to vanity or selfishness,—and it never was.
But there was another world where he expected to be welcome and of service. He wished his poetry to cheer the solitary, to uplift the downcast, to bid the despairing hope again, to teach the impoverished60 how much treasure was left to them. In short, he intended by the quiet ministry61 of his art to be one of those
“Poets who keep the world in heart,”
—and so he was.
It is impossible to exaggerate the value of such a service. Measured by any true and vital standard
[225]
Wordsworth’s contribution to the welfare of mankind was greater, more enduring than that of the amazing Corsican, Bonaparte, who was born but a few months before him and blazed his way to glory. Wordsworth’s service was to life at its fountain-head. His remedy for the despair and paralysis62 of the soul was not the prescription63 of a definite philosophy as an antidote64. It was a hygienic method, a simple, healthful, loving life in fellowship with man and nature, by which the native tranquillity65 and vigour66 of the soul would be restored. The tendency of his poetry is to enhance our interest in humanity, to promote the cultivation67 of the small but useful virtues68, to brighten our joy in common things, and to deepen our trust in a wise, kind, over-ruling God. Wordsworth gives us not so much a new scheme of life as a new sense of its interior and inalienable wealth. His calm, noble, lofty poetry is needed to-day to counteract69 the belittling70 and distracting influence of great cities; to save us from that most modern form of insanity71, publicomania, which sacrifices all the sanctities of life to the craze for advertising72; and to make a little quiet space in
[226]
the heart, where those who are still capable of thought, in this age of clattering73 machinery74, shall be able to hear themselves think.
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1
bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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2
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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3
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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4
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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5
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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6
pessimist
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| n.悲观者；悲观主义者；厌世 | |
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7
kernel
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| n.(果实的)核，仁；(问题)的中心，核心 | |
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8
millet
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| n.小米，谷子 | |
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9
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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10
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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11
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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12
reaper
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| n.收割者，收割机 | |
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13
peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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14
diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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15
dross
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| n.渣滓；无用之物 | |
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16
witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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17
narrate
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| v.讲，叙述 | |
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18
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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19
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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20
accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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21
stanza
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| n.（诗）节，段 | |
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22
maliciously
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| adv.有敌意地 | |
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23
cramming
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| n.塞满，填鸭式的用功v.塞入( cram的现在分词 )；填塞；塞满；（为考试而）死记硬背功课 | |
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24
crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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25
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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26
highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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27
embarking
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| 乘船( embark的现在分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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28
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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29
solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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30
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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31
farmhouses
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| n.农舍，农场的主要住房( farmhouse的名词复数 ) | |
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32
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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33
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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34
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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35
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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36
noxious
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| adj.有害的，有毒的；使道德败坏的，讨厌的 | |
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37
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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38
bestowing
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| 砖窑中砖堆上层已烧透的砖 | |
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39
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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40
dealers
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| n.商人( dealer的名词复数 )；贩毒者；毒品贩子；发牌者 | |
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41
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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42
fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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43
hermits
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| （尤指早期基督教的）隐居修道士，隐士，遁世者( hermit的名词复数 ) | |
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44
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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45
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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46
citadels
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| n.城堡，堡垒( citadel的名词复数 ) | |
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47
weaver
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| n.织布工；编织者 | |
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48
loom
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| n.织布机，织机；v.隐现，(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
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49
blithe
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| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
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50
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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51
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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52
miller
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| n.磨坊主 | |
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53
moored
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| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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54
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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55
sate
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| v.使充分满足 | |
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56
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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57
memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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58
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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59
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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60
impoverished
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| adj.穷困的，无力的，用尽了的v.使（某人）贫穷( impoverish的过去式和过去分词 )；使（某物）贫瘠或恶化 | |
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61
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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62
paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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63
prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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64
antidote
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| n.解毒药，解毒剂 | |
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65
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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66
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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67
cultivation
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| n.耕作，培养，栽培（法），养成 | |
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68
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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69
counteract
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| vt.对…起反作用，对抗，抵消 | |
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70
belittling
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| 使显得微小，轻视，贬低( belittle的现在分词 ) | |
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71
insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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72
advertising
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| n.广告业；广告活动 a.广告的；广告业务的 | |
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73
clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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