For the Reader
cannot be too often reminded that Poetry is passion: it is the history
or science of feelings: now every man must know that an attempt is
rarely made to communicate impassioned feelings without something of
an accompanying consciousness of the inadequateness of our own powers,
or the deficiencies of language.
cannot be too often reminded that Poetry is passion: it is the history
or science of feelings: now every man must know that an attempt is
rarely made to communicate impassioned feelings without something of
an accompanying consciousness of the inadequateness of our own powers,
or the deficiencies of language.
William Wordsworth
--Published 1798.
In the editions of 1800-1805, Wordsworth added the following note to
this poem:
"This Poem ought to have been preceded by an introductory Poem, which
I have been prevented from writing by never having felt myself in a
mood when it was probable that I should write it well. --The character
which I have here introduced speaking is sufficiently common. The
Reader will perhaps have a general notion of it, if he has ever known
a man, a Captain of a small trading vessel for example, who being past
the middle age of life, had retired upon an annuity or small
independent income to some village or country town of which he was not
a native, or in which he had not been accustomed to live. Such men
having little to do become credulous and talkative from indolence; and
from the same cause, and other predisposing causes by which it is
probable that such men may have been affected, they are prone to
superstition. On which account it appeared to me proper to select a
character like this to exhibit some of the general laws by which
superstition acts upon the mind. Superstitious men are almost always
men of slow faculties and deep feelings; their minds are not loose but
adhesive; they have a reasonable share of imagination, by which word I
mean the faculty which produces impressive effects out of simple
elements; but they are utterly destitute of fancy, the power by which
pleasure and surprise are excited by sudden varieties of situation and
by accumulated imagery.
"It was my wish in this poem to shew the manner in which such men
cleave to the same ideas; and to follow the turns of passion, always
different, yet not palpably different, by which their conversation is
swayed. I had two objects to attain; first, to represent a picture
which should not be unimpressive yet consistent with the character
that should describe it, secondly, while I adhered to the style in
which such persons describe, to take care that words, which in their
minds are impregnated with passion, should likewise convey passion to
Readers who are not accustomed to sympathize with men feeling in that
manner or using such language. It seemed to me that this might be done
by calling in the assistance of Lyrical and rapid Metre. It was
necessary that the Poem, to be natural, should in reality move slowly;
yet I hoped, that, by the aid of the metre, to those who should at all
enter into the spirit of the Poem, it would appear to move quickly.
The Reader will have the kindness to excuse this note as I am sensible
that an introductory Poem is necessary to give this Poem its full
effect.
"Upon this occasion I will request permission to add a few words
closely connected with 'The Thorn' and many other Poems in these
Volumes. There is a numerous class of readers who imagine that the
same words cannot be repeated without tautology; this is a great
error: virtual tautology is much oftener produced by using different
words when the meaning is exactly the same. Words, a Poet's words more
particularly, ought to be weighed in the balance of feeling and not
measured by the space which they occupy upon paper.
For the Reader
cannot be too often reminded that Poetry is passion: it is the history
or science of feelings: now every man must know that an attempt is
rarely made to communicate impassioned feelings without something of
an accompanying consciousness of the inadequateness of our own powers,
or the deficiencies of language. During such efforts there will be a
craving in the mind, and as long as it is unsatisfied the Speaker will
cling to the same words, or words of the same character. There are
also various other reasons why repetition and apparent tautology are
frequently beauties of the highest kind. Among the chief of these
reasons is the interest which the mind attaches to words, not only as
symbols of the passion, but as 'things', active and efficient, which
are of themselves part of the passion. And further, from a spirit of
fondness, exultation, and gratitude, the mind luxuriates in the
repetition of words which appear successfully to communicate its
feelings. The truth of these remarks might be shown by innumerable
passages from the Bible and from the impassioned poetry of every
nation.
Awake, awake, Deborah! awake, awake, utter a song: Arise Barak, and
lead captivity captive, thou Son of Abinoam.
At her feet he bowed, he fell, he lay down: at her feet he bowed, he
fell: where he bowed there he fell down dead.
Why is his Chariot so long in coming? why tarry the Wheels of his
Chariot?
(Judges, chap. v. verses 12th, 27th, and part of 28th. )
See also the whole of that tumultuous and wonderful Poem. "
"The poem of 'The Thorn', as the reader will soon discover, is not
supposed to be spoken in the author's own person: the character of the
loquacious narrator will sufficiently shew itself in the course of the
story.
In the editions of 1800-1805, Wordsworth added the following note to
this poem:
"This Poem ought to have been preceded by an introductory Poem, which
I have been prevented from writing by never having felt myself in a
mood when it was probable that I should write it well. --The character
which I have here introduced speaking is sufficiently common. The
Reader will perhaps have a general notion of it, if he has ever known
a man, a Captain of a small trading vessel for example, who being past
the middle age of life, had retired upon an annuity or small
independent income to some village or country town of which he was not
a native, or in which he had not been accustomed to live. Such men
having little to do become credulous and talkative from indolence; and
from the same cause, and other predisposing causes by which it is
probable that such men may have been affected, they are prone to
superstition. On which account it appeared to me proper to select a
character like this to exhibit some of the general laws by which
superstition acts upon the mind. Superstitious men are almost always
men of slow faculties and deep feelings; their minds are not loose but
adhesive; they have a reasonable share of imagination, by which word I
mean the faculty which produces impressive effects out of simple
elements; but they are utterly destitute of fancy, the power by which
pleasure and surprise are excited by sudden varieties of situation and
by accumulated imagery.
"It was my wish in this poem to shew the manner in which such men
cleave to the same ideas; and to follow the turns of passion, always
different, yet not palpably different, by which their conversation is
swayed. I had two objects to attain; first, to represent a picture
which should not be unimpressive yet consistent with the character
that should describe it, secondly, while I adhered to the style in
which such persons describe, to take care that words, which in their
minds are impregnated with passion, should likewise convey passion to
Readers who are not accustomed to sympathize with men feeling in that
manner or using such language. It seemed to me that this might be done
by calling in the assistance of Lyrical and rapid Metre. It was
necessary that the Poem, to be natural, should in reality move slowly;
yet I hoped, that, by the aid of the metre, to those who should at all
enter into the spirit of the Poem, it would appear to move quickly.
The Reader will have the kindness to excuse this note as I am sensible
that an introductory Poem is necessary to give this Poem its full
effect.
"Upon this occasion I will request permission to add a few words
closely connected with 'The Thorn' and many other Poems in these
Volumes. There is a numerous class of readers who imagine that the
same words cannot be repeated without tautology; this is a great
error: virtual tautology is much oftener produced by using different
words when the meaning is exactly the same. Words, a Poet's words more
particularly, ought to be weighed in the balance of feeling and not
measured by the space which they occupy upon paper.
For the Reader
cannot be too often reminded that Poetry is passion: it is the history
or science of feelings: now every man must know that an attempt is
rarely made to communicate impassioned feelings without something of
an accompanying consciousness of the inadequateness of our own powers,
or the deficiencies of language. During such efforts there will be a
craving in the mind, and as long as it is unsatisfied the Speaker will
cling to the same words, or words of the same character. There are
also various other reasons why repetition and apparent tautology are
frequently beauties of the highest kind. Among the chief of these
reasons is the interest which the mind attaches to words, not only as
symbols of the passion, but as 'things', active and efficient, which
are of themselves part of the passion. And further, from a spirit of
fondness, exultation, and gratitude, the mind luxuriates in the
repetition of words which appear successfully to communicate its
feelings. The truth of these remarks might be shown by innumerable
passages from the Bible and from the impassioned poetry of every
nation.
Awake, awake, Deborah! awake, awake, utter a song: Arise Barak, and
lead captivity captive, thou Son of Abinoam.
At her feet he bowed, he fell, he lay down: at her feet he bowed, he
fell: where he bowed there he fell down dead.
Why is his Chariot so long in coming? why tarry the Wheels of his
Chariot?
(Judges, chap. v. verses 12th, 27th, and part of 28th. )
See also the whole of that tumultuous and wonderful Poem. "
"The poem of 'The Thorn', as the reader will soon discover, is not
supposed to be spoken in the author's own person: the character of the
loquacious narrator will sufficiently shew itself in the course of the
story.
