"March 19, 1798. William and Basil and I walked to the hill tops. A very cold bleak day. William wrote some lines describing a stunted Thorn" (Dorothy Wordsworth"s Alfoxden Journal).--Ed.
"April 20. Walked in the evening up the hill dividing the coombes.
Came home the Crookham way, by the Thorn, and the little muddy pond"
(Dorothy Wordsworth"s Alfoxden Journal).--Ed.]
SUB-FOOTNOTE ON THE VARIANT
[Sub-Footnote i: Compare in Burger"s "Pfarrer"s Tochter", "drei Spannen lang," and see Appendix V.--Ed.]
GOODY BLAKE AND HARRY GILL
A TRUE STORY
Composed 1798.--Published 1798.
[Written at Alfoxden. The incident from Dr. Darwin"s "Zoonomia".--I.
F.]
See Erasmus Darwin"s "Zoonomia", vol. iv. pp. 68-69, ed. 1801. It is the story of a man named Tullis, narrated by an Italian, Signer L. Storgosi, in a work called "Il Narratore Italiano".
"I received good information of the truth of the following case, which was published a few years ago in the newspapers. A young farmer in Warwickshire, finding his hedges broke, and the sticks carried away during a frosty season, determined to watch for the thief. He lay many cold hours under a haystack, and at length an old woman, like a witch in a play, approached, and began to pull up the hedge; he waited till she had tied up her bundle of sticks, and was carrying them off, that he might convict her of the theft, and then springing from his concealment, he seized his prey with violent threats. After some altercation, in which her load was left upon the ground, she kneeled upon her bundle of sticks, and raising her arms to Heaven, beneath the bright moon then at the full, spoke to the farmer, already shivering with cold, "Heaven grant that thou mayest never know again the blessing to be warm." He complained of cold all the next day, and wore an upper coat, and in a few days another, and in a fortnight took to his bed, always saying nothing made him warm; he covered himself with many blankets, and had a sieve over his face as he lay; and from this one insane idea he kept his bed above twenty years for fear of the cold air, till at length he died."
In the "Advertis.e.m.e.nt" to the first edition of "Lyrical Ballads,"
Wordsworth says, "The tale of "Goody Blake and Harry Gill" is founded on a well-authenticated fact which happened in Warwickshire."
The following curious letter appeared in the "Ipswich Magazine" of April 1799:
"IPSWICH, April 2, 1799.
"To the Editors of the "Ipswich Magazine".
"GENTLEMEN--The scarcity of Coal at this time, and the piercing cold of the weather, cannot fail to be some apology for the depredations daily committed on the hedges in the neighbourhood. If ever it be permitted, it ought in the present season. Should there be any Farmer more rigorous than the rest, let him attend to the poetical story inserted in page 118 of this Magazine, and tremble at the fate of Farmer Gill, who was about to prosecute a poor old woman for a similar offence. The thing is a fact, and told by one of the first physicians of the present day, as having happened in the south of England, "and which has, a short time since", been turned by a _lyric poet_ into that excellent ballad."
From 1815 to 1843, this poem was cla.s.sed among those of "the Imagination." In 1845 it was transferred to the list of "Miscellaneous Poems."--Ed.
THE POEM
Oh! what"s the matter? what"s the matter?
What is"t that ails young Harry Gill?
That evermore his teeth they chatter, Chatter, chatter, chatter still!
Of waistcoats Harry has no lack, 5 Good duffle grey, and flannel fine; He has a blanket on his back, And coats enough to smother nine.
In March, December, and in July, "Tis all the same with Harry Gill; 10 The neighbours tell, and tell you truly, His teeth they chatter, chatter still.
At night, at morning, and at noon, "Tis all the same with Harry Gill; Beneath the sun, beneath the moon, 15 His teeth they chatter, chatter still!
Young Harry was a l.u.s.ty drover, And who so stout of limb as he?
His cheeks were red as ruddy clover; His voice was like the voice of three. 20 Old [1] Goody Blake was old and poor; Ill fed she was, and thinly clad; And any man who pa.s.sed her door Might see how poor a hut she had.
All day she spun in her poor dwelling: 25 And then her three hours" work at night, Alas! "twas hardly worth the telling, It would not pay for candle-light.
Remote from sheltered village-green, On a hill"s northern side she dwelt, 30 Where from sea-blasts the hawthorns lean, And h.o.a.ry dews are slow to melt. [2]
By the same fire to boil their pottage, Two poor old Dames, as I have known, Will often live in one small cottage; 35 But she, poor Woman! housed [3] alone.
"Twas well enough when summer came, The long, warm, lightsome summer-day, Then at her door the _canty_ Dame Would sit, as any linnet, gay. 40
But when the ice our streams did fetter, Oh then how her old bones would shake; You would have said, if you had met her, "Twas a hard time for Goody Blake.
Her evenings then were dull and dead: 45 Sad case it was, as you may think, For very cold to go to bed; And then for cold not sleep a wink.
O joy for her! whene"er in winter The winds at night had made a rout; 50 And scattered many a l.u.s.ty splinter And many a rotten bough about.
Yet never had she, well or sick, As every man who knew her says, A pile beforehand, turf [4] or stick, 55 Enough to warm her for three days.
Now, when the frost was past enduring, And made her poor old bones to ache, Could anything be more alluring Than an old hedge to Goody Blake? 60 And, now and then, it must be said, When her old bones were cold and chill, She left her fire, or left her bed, To seek the hedge of Harry Gill.
Now Harry he had long suspected 65 This trespa.s.s of old Goody Blake; And vowed that she should be detected-- That [5] he on her would vengeance take.
And oft from his warm fire he"d go, And to the fields his road would take; 70 And there, at night, in frost and snow, He watched to seize old Goody Blake.
And once, behind a rick of barley, Thus looking out did Harry stand: The moon was full and shining clearly, 75 And crisp with frost the stubble land.
--He hears a noise--he"s all awake-- Again?--on tip-toe down the hill He softly creeps--"tis Goody Blake; She"s at the hedge of Harry Gill! 80
Right glad was he when he beheld her: Stick after stick did Goody pull: He stood behind a bush of elder, Till she had filled her ap.r.o.n full.
When with her load she turned about, 85 The by-way [6] back again to take; He started forward, with a shout, And sprang upon poor Goody Blake.
And fiercely by the arm he took her, And by the arm he held her fast, 90 And fiercely by the arm he shook her, And cried, "I"ve caught you then at last!"
Then Goody, who had nothing said, Her bundle from her lap let fall; And, kneeling on the sticks, she prayed 95 To G.o.d that is the judge of all.
She prayed, her withered hand uprearing, While Harry held her by the arm-- "G.o.d! who art never out of hearing, O may he never more be warm!" 100 The cold, cold moon above her head, Thus on her knees did Goody pray; Young Harry heard what she had said: And icy cold he turned away.
He went complaining all the morrow 105 That he was cold and very chill: His face was gloom, his heart was sorrow, Alas! that day for Harry Gill!
That day he wore a riding-coat, But not a whit the warmer he: 110 Another was on Thursday brought, And ere the Sabbath he had three.