Delphi Complete Works of William Wordsworth
Page 102
Or image, recognised or new, some type
Or picture of the world — forests and lakes,
Ships, rivers, towers, the warrior clad in mail,
The prancing steed, the pilgrim with his staff, 745
A mitred bishop and the thron`ed king —
A spectacle to which there is no end.
No otherwise had I at first been moved —
With such a swell of feeling, followed soon
By a blank sense of greatness passed away — 750
And afterwards continued to be moved,
In presence of that vast metropolis,
The fountain of my country’s destiny
And of the destiny of earth itself,
That great emporium, chronicle at once 755
And burial-place of passions, and their home
Imperial, and chief living residence.
With strong sensations teeming as it did
Of past and present, such a place must needs
Have pleased me in those times. I sought not then 760
Knowledge, but craved for power — and power I found
In all things. Nothing had a circumscribed
And narrow influence; but all objects, being
Themselves capacious, also found in me
Capaciousness and amplitude of mind — 765
Such is the strength and glory of our youth.
The human nature unto which I felt
That I belonged, and which I loved and reverenced,
Was not a punctual presence, but a spirit
Living in time and space, and far diffused. 770
In this my joy, in this my dignity
Consisted: the external universe,
By striking upon what is found within,
Had given me this conception, with the help
Of books and what they picture and record. 775
‘Tis true the history of my native land,
With those of Greece compared and popular Rome —
Events not lovely nor magnanimous,
But harsh and unaffecting in themselves;
And in our high-wrought modern narratives 780
Stript of their humanizing soul, the life
Of manners and familiar incidents —
Had never much delighted me. And less
Than other minds I had been used to owe
The pleasure which I found in place or thing 785
To extrinsic transitory accidents,
To records or traditions; but a sense
Of what had been here done, and suffered here
Through ages, and was doing, suffering, still,
Weighed with me, could support the test of thought — 790
Was like the enduring majesty and power
Of independent nature. And not seldom
Even individual remembrances,
By working on the shapes before my eyes,
Became like vital functions of the soul; 795
And out of what had been, what was, the place
Was thronged with impregnations, like those wilds
In which my early feelings had been nursed,
And naked valleys full of caverns, rocks,
And audible seclusions, dashing lakes, 800
Echoes and waterfalls, and pointed crags
That into music touch the passing wind.
Thus here imagination also found
An element that pleased her, tried her strength
Among new objects, simplified, arranged, 805
Impregnated my knowledge, made it live —
And the result was elevating thoughts
Of human nature. Neither guilt nor vice,
Debasement of the body or the mind,
Nor all the misery forced upon my sight, 810
Which was not lightly passed, but often scanned
Most feelingly, could overthrow my trust
In what we may become, induce belief
that I was ignorant, had been falsely taught,
A solitary, who with vain conceits 815
Had been inspired, and walked about in dreams.
When from that rueful prospect, overcast
And in eclipse, my meditations turned,
Lo, every thing that was indeed divine
Retained its purity inviolate 820
And unencroached upon, nay, seemed brighter far
For this deep shade in counterview, the gloom
Of opposition, such as shewed itself
To the eyes of Adam, yet in Paradise
Though fallen from bliss, when in the East he saw 825
Darkness ere day’s mid course, and morning light
More orient in the western cloud, that drew
‘O’er the blue firmament a radiant white,
Descending slow with something heavenly fraught.’
Add also, that among the multitudes 830
Of that great city oftentimes was seen
Affectingly set forth, more than elsewhere
Is possible, the unity of man,
One spirit over ignorance and vice
Predominant, in good and evil hearts 835
One sense for moral judgments, as one eye
For the sun’s light. When strongly breathed upon
By this sensation — whencesoe’er it comes,
Of union or communion — doth the soul
Rejoice as in her highest joy; for there, 840
There chiefly, hath she feeling whence she is,
And passing through all Nature rests with God.
And is not, too, that vast abiding-place
Of human creatures, turn where’er we may,
Profusely sown with individual sights 845
Of courage, and integrity, and truth,
And tenderness, which, here set off by foil,
Appears more touching? In the tender scenes
Chiefly was my delight, and one of these
Never will be forgotten. ‘Twas a man, 850
Whom I saw sitting in an open square
Close to the iron paling that fenced in
The spacious grass-plot: on the corner-stone
Of the low wall in which the pales were fixed
Sate this one man, and with a sickly babe 855
Upon his knee, whom he had thither brought
For sunshine, and to breathe the fresher air.
Of those who passed, and me who looked at him,
He took no note; but in his brawny arms
(The artificer was to the elbow bare, 860
And from his work this moment had been stolen)
He held the child, and, bending over it
As if he were afraid both of the sun
And of the air which he had come to seek,
He eyed it with unutterable love. 865
Thus from a very early age, O friend,
My thoughts had been attracted more and more
By slow gradations towards human-kind,
And to the good and ill of human life.
Nature had led me on, and now I seemed 870
To travel independent of her help,
As if I had forgotten her — but no,
My fellow-beings still were unto me
Far less than she was: though the scale of love
Were filling fast, ‘twas light as yet compared 875
With that in which her mighty objects lay.
BOOK NINTH.
RESIDENCE IN FRANCE
AS oftentimes a river, it might seem,
Yielding in part to old remembrances,
Part swayed by fear to tread an onward road
That leads direct to the devouring sea,
Turns and will measure back his course — far back, 5
Towards the very regions which he crossed
In his first outset — so have we long time
Made motions retrograde, in like pursuit
Detained. But now we start afresh: I feel
An impulse to precipitate my verse. 10
Fair greetings to this shapeless eagerness,
Whene’er it comes, needful in work so long,
Trice needful to the argument which now
Awaits us — oh, how much unlike the past —
One which though bright the promise, will be found 15
Ere far we shall advance, ungenial, hard
To treat of, and forbidding in itself.
Free as a colt at pasture on the hills
I ranged at large through the metropolis
Month after month. Obscurely did I live, 20
Not courting the society of men,
By literature, or elegance, or rank,
Distinguished — in the midst of things, it seemed,
Looking as from a distance on the world
That moved about me. Yet insensibly 25
False preconceptions were corrected thus,
And errors of the fancy rectified
(Alike with reference to men and things),
And sometimes from each quarter were poured in
Novel imaginations and profound. 30
A year thus spent, this field, with small regret —
Save only for the bookstalls in the streets
(Wild produce, hedgerow fruit, on all sides hung
To lure the sauntering traveller from his track) —
I quitted, and betook myself to France, 35
Let thither chiefly by a personal wish
To speak the language more familiarly,
With which intent I chose for my abode
A city on the borders of the Loire.
Through Paris lay my readiest path, and there 40
I sojourned a few days, and visited
In haste each spot of old and recent fame —
The latter chiefly — from the field of Mars
Down to the suburbs of St. Anthony,
And from Mont Martyr southward to the Dome 45
Of Genevi`eve. In both her clamorous halls,
The National Synod and the Jacobins,
I saw the revolutionary power
Toss like a ship at anchor, rocked by storms,
The Arcades I traversed in the Palace huge 50
Of Orleans, coasted round and round the line
Of tavern, brothel, gaming-house, and shop,
Great rendezvous of worst and best, the walk
Of all who had a purpose, or had not;
I stared and listened with a stranger’s ears, 55
To hawkers and haranguers, hubbub wild,
And hissing factionists with ardent eyes,
In knots, or pairs, or single, ant-like swarms
Of builders and subverters, every face
That hope or apprehension could put on — 60
Joy, anger, and vexation, in the midst
Of gaiety and dissolute idleness.
Where silent zephyrs sported with the dust
Of the Bastile I sate in the open sun
And from the rubbish gathered up a stone, 65
And pocketed the relick in the guise
Of an enthusiast; yet, in honest truth,
Though not without some strong incumbencies,
And glad — could living man be otherwise? —
I looked for something which I could not find, 70
Affecting more emotion than I felt.
For ‘tis most certain that the utmost force
Of all these various objects which may shew
The temper of my mind as then it was
Seemed less to recompense the traveller’s pains, 75
Less moved me, gave me less delight, than did
A single picture merely, hunted out
Among other sights, the Magdalene of le Brun,
A beauty exquisitely wrought — fair face
And rueful, with its ever-flowing tears. 80
But hence to my more permanent residence
I hasten: there, by novelties in speech,
Domestic manners, customs, gestures, looks,
And all the attire of ordinary life,
Attention was at first engrossed; and thus 85
Amused and satisfied, I scarcely felt
The shock of these concussions, unconcerned,
Tranquil almost, and careless as a flower
Glassed in a greenhouse, or a parlour-shrub,
When every bush and tree the country through, 90
Is shaking to the roots — indifference this
Which may seem strange, but I was unprepared
With needful knowledge, had abruptly passed
Into a theatre of which the stage
Was busy with an action far advanced. 95
Like others I had read, and eagerly
Sometimes, the master pamphlets of the day,
Nor wanted such half-insight as grew wild
Upon that meagre soil, helped out by talk
And public news; but having never chanced 100
To see a regular chronicle which might shew —
If any such indeed existed then —
Whence the main organs of the public power
Had sprung, their transmigrations, when and how
Accomplished (giving thus unto events 105
A form and body), all things were to me
Loose and disjointed, and the affections left
Without a vital interest. At that time,
Moreover, the first storm was overblown,
And the strong hand of outward violence 110
Locked up in quiet. For myself — I fear
Now in connection with so great a theme
To speak, as I must be compelled to do,
Of one so unimportant — a short time
I loitered, and frequented night by night 115
Routs, card-tables, the formal haunts of men
Whom in the city privilege of birth
Sequestered from the rest, societies
Where, through punctilios of elegance
And deeper causes, all discourse, alike 120
Of good and evil, in the time, was shunned
With studious care. But ‘twas not long ere this
Proved tedious, and I gradually withdrew
Into a noisier world, and thus did soon
Become a patriot — and my heart was all 125
Given to the people, and my love was theirs.
A knot of military officers
That to a regiment appertained which then
Was stationed in the city were the chief
Of my associates; some of these wore swords 130
Which had been seasoned in the wars, and all
Were men well-born, at least laid claim to such
Distinction, as the chivalry of France.
In age and temper differing, they had yet
One spirit ruling in them all — alike 135
(Save only one, hereafter to be named)
Were bent upon undoing what was done.
This was their rest, and only hope; therewith
No fear had they of bad becoming worse,
For worst to them was come — nor would have stirred, 140
Or deemed it worth a moment’s while to stir,
In any thing, save only as the act
Looked thitherward. One, reckoning by years,
Was in the prime of manhood, and erewhile
He had sate lord in many tender hearts, 145
Though heedless of such honours now, and changed:
His temper was quite mastered by the times,
And they had blighted him, had eat away
The beauty of his person, doing wrong
Alike to body and to mind. His port, 150
Which once had been erect and open, now
Was stooping and contracted, and a face
By nature lovely in itself, expressed,
As much as any that was ever seen,
A ravage out of season. made by thoughts 155
Unhealthy and vexatious. At the hour,
The most impor
tant of each day, in which
The public news was read, the fever came,
A punctual visitant, to shake this man,
Disarmed his voice and fanned his yellow cheek 160
Into a thousand colours. While he read,
Or mused, his sword was haunted by his touch
Continually, like an uneasy place
In his own body. ‘Twas in truth an hour
Of universal ferment — mildest men 165
Were agitated, and commotions, strife
Of passion and opinion, filled the walls
Of peaceful houses with unquiet sounds.
The soil of common life was at that time
Too hot to tread upon. Oft said I then, 170
And not then only, ‘What a mockery this
Of history, the past and that to come!
Now do I feel how I have been deceived,
Reading of nations and their works in faith —
Faith given to vanity and emptiness — 175
Oh, laughter for the page that would reflect
To future times the face of what now is!’
The land all swarmed with passion, like a plain
Devoured by locusts — Carra, Gorsas — add
A hundred other names, forgotten now, 180
Nor to be heard of more; yet were they powers,
Like earthquakes, shocks repeated day by day,
And felt through every nook of town and field.
The men already spoken of as chief
Of my associates were prepared for flight 185
To augment the band of emigrants in arms
Upon the borders of the Rhine, and leagued
With foreign foes mustered for instant war.
This was their undisguised intent, and they
Were waiting with the whole of their desires 190
The moment to depart. An Englishman,
Born in a land the name of which appeared
To licence some unruliness of mind,
A stranger, with youth ‘s further privilege,
And that indulgence which a half-learned speech 195
Wins from the courteous, I — who had been else
Shunned and not tolerated — freely lived
With these defenders of the crown, and talked,
And heard their notions; nor did they disdain
The wish to bring me over to their cause. 200
But though untaught by thinking or by books
To reason well of polity or law,
And nice distinctions — then on every tongue —
Of natural rights and civil, and to acts
Of nations, and their passing interests 205
(I speak comparing these with other things)
Almost indifferent, even the historian’s tale
Prizing but little otherwise than I prized
Tales of poets — as it made my heart
Beat high and filled my fancy with fair forms, 210