Volume 2 — Beggars
Reading edition
Composed March 13th and 14th, 1802.—Published 1807
The Poem
[Written at Town-end, Grasmere. Met, and described to me by my sister, near the quarry at the head of Rydal LakeA, a place still a chosen resort of vagrants travelling with their families.—I. F.]
The following are Dorothy Wordsworth's references to this poem in her Grasmere Journal. They justify the remark of the late Bishop of Lincoln,
"his poems are sometimes little more than poetical versions of her descriptions of the objects which she had seen, and he treated them as seen by himself."
(See Memoirs of Wordsworth, vol. i. pp. 180-1.)
"Saturday (March 13, 1802).—William wrote the poem of the Beggar Woman, taken from a woman whom I had seen in May (now nearly two years ago), when John and he were at Gallow Hill. I sat with him at intervals all the morning, and took down his stanzas. After tea I read W. the account I had written of the little boy belonging to the tall woman: and an unlucky thing it was, for he could not escape from those very words, and so he could not write the poem. He left it unfinished, and went tired to bed. In our walk from Rydal he had got warmed with the subject, and had half cast the poem." "Sunday Morning (March 14). —William had slept badly. He got up at 9 o'clock, but before he rose he had finished the Beggar Boy."
The following is the "account" written in her Journal on Tuesday, May 23, 1800:
"A very tall woman, tall much beyond the measure of tall women, called at the door. She had on a very long brown cloak, and a very white cap, without bonnet. Her face was brown, but it had plainly once been fair. She led a little barefooted child about two years old by the hand, and said her husband, who was a tinker, was gone before with the other children. I gave her a piece of bread. Afterwards, on my road to Ambleside, beside the bridge at Rydal, I saw her husband sitting at the roadside, his two asses standing beside him, and the two young children at play upon the grass. The man did not beg. I passed on, and about a quarter of a mile farther I saw two boys before me, one about ten, the other about eight years old, at play, chasing a butterfly. They were wild figures, not very ragged, but without shoes and stockings. The hat of the elder was wreathed round with yellow flowers; the younger, whose hat was only a rimless crown, had stuck it round with laurel leaves. They continued at play till I drew very near, and then they addressed me with the begging cant and the whining voice of sorrow. I said, 'I served your mother this morning' (the boys were so like the woman who had called at our door that I could not be mistaken). 'O,' says the elder, 'you could not serve my mother, for she's dead, and my father's in at the next town; he's a potter.' I persisted in my assertion, and that I would give them nothing. Says the elder, 'Come, let's away,' and away they flew like lightning. They had, however, sauntered so long in their road that they did not reach Ambleside before me, and I saw them go up to Mathew Harrison's house with their wallet upon the elder's shoulder, and creeping with a beggar's complaining foot. On my return through Ambleside I met, in the street, the mother driving her asses, in the two panniers of one of which were the two little children, whom she was chiding and threatening with a wand with which she used to drive on her asses, while the little things hung in wantonness over the pannier's edge. The woman had told me in the morning that she was of Scotland, which her accent fully proved, and that she had lived (I think at Wigtown); that they could not keep a house, and so they travelled."
This was one of the "Poems of the Imagination."—Ed.
The Poem
text variant footnote line number
She had a tall man's height or more; Her face from summer's noontide heat No bonnet shaded, but she wore A mantle, to her very feet Descending with a graceful flow, And on her head a cap as white as new-fallen snow. Her skin was of Egyptian brown: Haughty, as if her eye had seen Its own light to a distance thrown, She towered, fit person for a Queen To lead those ancient Amazonian files; Or ruling Bandit's wife among the Grecian isles. Advancing, forth she stretched her hand And begged an alms with doleful plea That ceased not; on our English land Such woes, I knew, could never be; And yet a boon I gave her, for the creature Was beautiful to see—a weed of glorious feature. I left her, and pursued my way; And soon before me did espy A pair of little Boys at play, Chasing a crimson butterfly; The taller followed with his hat in hand, Wreathed round with yellow flowers the gayest of the land. The other wore a rimless crown With leaves of laurel stuck about; And, while both followed up and down, Each whooping with a merry shout, In their fraternal features I could trace Unquestionable lines of that wild Suppliant's face. Yet they, so blithe of heart, seemed fit For finest tasks of earth or air: Wings let them have, and they might flit Precursors to Aurora's car, Scattering fresh flowers; though happier far, I ween, To hunt their fluttering game o'er rock and level green. They dart across my path—but lo, Each ready with a plaintive whine! Said I, "not half an hour ago Your Mother has had alms of mine." "That cannot be," one answered—"she is dead:"— I looked reproof—they saw—but neither hung his head. "She has been dead, Sir, many a day."— "Hush, boys! you're telling me a lie; It was your Mother, as I say!" And, in the twinkling of an eye, "Come! come!" cried one, and without more ado, Off to some other play the joyous Vagrants flew! Contents 1802 Main Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 B C 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45
Variant 1:
1845
She had a tall Man's height, or more; No bonnet screen'd her from the heat; A long drab-colour'd Cloak she wore, A Mantle reaching to her feet: What other dress she had I could not know; Only she wore a Cap that was as white as snow. 1807
Before me as the Wanderer stood, No bonnet screened her from the heat; Nor claimed she service from the hood Of a blue mantle, to her feet Depending with a graceful flow; Only she wore a cap pure as unsullied snow. 1827
Before my eyes a Wanderer stood; Her face from summer's noon-day heat Nor bonnet shaded, nor the hood Of that blue cloak which to her feet Depended with a graceful flow; Only she wore a cap as white as new-fallen snow. 1832
No bonnet shaded, nor the hood Of the blue cloak ... 1836
She had a tall man's height or more; And while, 'mid April's noontide heat, A long blue cloak the vagrant wore, A mantle reaching to her feet, No bonnet screened her lofty brow, Only she wore a cap as white as new-fallen snow. C.
She had a tall man's height or more; A garment for her stature meet, And for a vagrant life, she wore A mantle reaching to her feet. Nor hood, nor bonnet screened her lofty brow, C.
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Variant 2:
1827
In all my walks, through field or town, Such Figure had I never seen: Her face was of Egyptian brown: Fit person was she for a Queen, 1807
Such figure had I never seen In all my walks through field or town, Fit person seemed she for a Queen, C.
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Variant 3:
1836
To head ... 1807
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Variant 4:
1845
Before me begging did she stand, Pouring out sorrows like a sea; Grief after grief:—on English Land Such woes I knew could never be; 1807
Her suit no faltering scruples checked; Forth did she pour, in current free, Tales that could challenge no respect But from a blind credulity; 1827
She begged an alms; no scruple checked The current of her ready plea, Words that could challenge ... 1832
Before me begging did she stand And boldly urged a doleful plea, Grief after grief, on English land Such woes I knew could never be. C.
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Variant 5:
1807
With yellow flowers around, as with a golden band. C.
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Variant 6:
1827
And they both ... 1807
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Variant 7:
1820
Two Brothers seem'd they, eight and ten years old; And like that Woman's face as gold is like to gold. 1807
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Variant 8:
This stanza was added in the edition of 1827.
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Variant 9:
1836
Precursors of ... 1827
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Variant 10:
1827
They bolted on me thus, and lo! 1807
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Variant 11:
1827
"Nay but I gave her pence, and she will buy you bread." 1807
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Variant 12:
1845
"Sweet Boys, you're telling me a lie; 1807
... Heaven hears that rash reply; 1827
The text of 1807 was resumed in 1836.
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Variant 13:
1827
... they both together flew. 1807
... the thoughtless vagrants flew. C.
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Footnote A:
The spot is easily identified, as the quarry still exists.—Ed.
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Footnote B:
In the MS. of this poem (1807) the words, "a weed of glorious feature," are placed within inverted commas. The quotation is from Spenser's Muiopotmos (The Fate of the Butterflie), stanza 27; and is important, as it affects the meaning of the phrase. It is curious that Wordsworth dropped the commas in his subsequent editions.—Ed.
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Footnote C:
In Wordsworth's letter to Barron Field, of 24th October 1828 (see the volumes containing his correspondence), a detailed account is given of the reasons which had led him to alter the text of this poem.—Ed.
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Contents 1802 Main Contents