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1. Wordsworth’s Political Mentor
Among that band of Officers was one, Already hinted at, of other mould- A patriot, thence rejected by the rest, And with an oriental loathing spurned, As of a different caste. A meeker man Than this lived never, nor a more benign, Meek though enthusiastic. Injuries Made him more gracious, and his nature then Did breathe its sweetness out most sensibly, As aromatic flowers on Alpine turf, When foot hath crushed them. He through the events Of that great change wandered in perfect faith, As through a book, an old romance, or tale Of Fairy, or some dream of actions wrought Behind the summer clouds. By birth he ranked With the most noble, but unto the poor Among mankind he was in service bound As by some tie invisible, oaths professed To a religious order. Man he loved As man, and to the mean and the obscure, And all the homely in their homely works, Transferred a courtesy which had no air Of condescension, but did rather seem A passion and a gallantry, like that Which he, a soldier, in his idler day Had payed to woman. Somewhat vain he was, Or seemed so-yet it was not vanity, But fondness, and a kind of radiant joy Diffused around him, while he was intent
On works of love or freedom, or revolved Complacently the progress of a cause Whereof he was a part: yet this was meek And placid, and took nothing from the man That was delightful. Oft in solitude With him did I discourse about the end Of civil government, and its wisest forms, Of ancient loyalty, and chartered rights, Custom and habit, novelty and change, Of self-respect, and virtue in the few For patrimonial honour set apart, And ignorance in the labouring multitude. (288-328)
2. “Hunger-bitten girl” episode
And when we chanced One day to meet a hunger-bitten girl, Who crept along fitting her languid gait Unto a heifer’s motion, by a cord Tied to her arm, and picking thus from the lane Its sustenance, while the girl with pallid hands Was busy knitting in a heartless mood Of solitude, and at the sight my friend In agitation said, ‘ ’Tis against that That we are fighting’, I with him believed That a benignant spirit was abroad Which might not be withstood, that poverty Abject as this would in a little time Be found no more, that we should see the earth Unthwarted in her wish to recompense The meek, the lowly, patient child of toil. All institutes for ever blotted out That legalised exclusion, empty pomp Abolished, sensual state and cruel power; Whether by edict of the one or few; And finally, as sum and crown of all, Should see the people having a strong hand In framing their own laws; whence better days To all mankind. But, these things set apart, Was not this single confidence enough To animate the mind that ever turned A thought to human welfare? That henceforth Captivity by mandate without law Should cease; and open accusation lead To sentence in the hearing of the world, And open punishment, if not the air Be free to breathe in, and the heart of man Dread nothing.(508-541)
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Related Binaries
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况令况胶客 橇尔胶酋疙.pdf
my own article on Wordsworth and the French Revolution based on Book IX
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Book IX
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