“Peter Grimes”
George Crabbe
Old Peter Grimes made fishing his employ,
2 His wife he cabin'd with him and his boy,
3 And seem'd that life laborious to enjoy:
4 To town came quiet Peter with his fish,
5 And had of all a civil word and wish.
6 He left his trade upon the sabbath-day,
7 And took young Peter in his hand to pray:
8 But soon the stubborn boy from care broke loose,
9 At first refused, then added his abuse:
10 His father's love he scorn'd, his power defied,
11 But being drunk, wept sorely when he died.
12 Yes! then he wept, and to his mind there came
13 Much of his conduct, and he felt the shame,--
14 How he had oft the good old man reviled,
15 And never paid the duty of a child;
16 How, when the father in his Bible read,
17 He in contempt and anger left the shed:
18 "It is the word of life," the parent cried;
19 --"This is the life itself," the boy replied;
20 And while old Peter in amazement stood,
21 Gave the hot spirit to his boiling blood:--
22 How he, with oath and furious speech, began
23 To prove his freedom and assert the man;
24 And when the parent check'd his impious rage,
25 How he had cursed the tyranny of age,--
26 Nay, once had dealt the sacrilegious blow
27 On his bare head, and laid his parent low;
28 The father groan'd--"If thou art old," said he,
29 "And hast a son--thou wilt remember me:
30 Thy mother left me in a happy time,
31 Thou kill'dst not her--Heav'n spares the double-crime."
32 On an inn-settle, in his maudlin grief,
33 This he revolved, and drank for his relief.
34 Now lived the youth in freedom, but debarr'd
35 From constant pleasure, and he thought it hard;
36 Hard that he could not every wish obey,
37 But must awhile relinquish ale and play;
38 Hard! that he could not to his cards attend,
39 But must acquire the money he would spend.
40 With greedy eye he look'd on all he saw,
41 He knew not justice, and he laugh'd at law;
42 On all he mark'd he stretch'd his ready hand;
43 He fish'd by water, and he filch'd by land:
44 Oft in the night has Peter dropp'd his oar,
45 Fled from his boat and sought for prey on shore;
46 Oft up the hedge-row glided, on his back
47 Bearing the orchard's produce in a sack,
48 Or farm-yard load, tugg'd fiercely from the stack;
49 And as these wrongs to greater numbers rose,
50 The more he look'd on all men as his foes.
51 He built a mud-wall'd hovel, where he kept
52 His various wealth, and there he oft-times slept;
53 But no success could please his cruel soul,
54 He wish'd for one to trouble and control;
55 He wanted some obedient boy to stand
56 And bear the blow of his outrageous hand;
57 And hoped to find in some propitious hour
58 A feeling creature subject to his power.
59 Peter had heard there were in London then,--
60 Still have they being!--workhouse clearing men,
61 Who, undisturb'd by feelings just or kind,
62 Would parish-boys to needy tradesmen bind:
63 They in their want a trifling sum would take,
64 And toiling slaves of piteous orphans make.
65 Such Peter sought, and when a lad was found,
66 The sum was dealt him, and the slave was bound.
67 Some few in town observed in Peter's trap
68 A boy, with jacket blue and woollen cap;
69 But none inquired how Peter used the rope,
70 Or what the bruise, that made the stripling stoop;
71 None could the ridges on his back behold,
72 None sought his shiv'ring in the winter's cold;
73 None put the question,--"Peter, dost thou give
74 The boy his food?--What, man! the lad must live:
75 Consider, Peter, let the child have bread,
76 He'll serve thee better if he's stroked and fed."
77 None reason'd thus--and some, on hearing cries,
78 Said calmly, "Grimes is at his exercise."
79
Pinn'd, beaten, cold, pinch'd, threaten'd, and
abused--
80 His efforts punish'd and his food refused,--
81 Awake tormented,--soon aroused from sleep,--
82 Struck if he wept, and yet compell'd to weep,
83 The trembling boy dropp'd down and strove to pray,
84 Received a blow, and trembling turn'd away,
85 Or sobb'd and hid his piteous face;--while he,
86 The savage master, grinn'd in horrid glee:
87 He'd now the power he ever loved to show,
88 A feeling being subject to his blow.
89 Thus lived the lad, in hunger, peril, pain,
90 His tears despised, his supplications vain:
91 Compell'd by fear to lie, by need to steal,
92 His bed uneasy and unbless'd his meal,
93 For three sad years the boy his tortures bore,
94 And then his pains and trials were no more.
95 "How died he, Peter?" when the
people said,
96 He growl'd--"I found him lifeless in his bed;"
97 Then tried for softer tone, and sigh'd, "Poor Sam is dead."
98 Yet murmurs were there, and some questions ask'd,--
99 How he was fed, how punish'd, and how task'd?
100 Much they suspected, but they little proved,
101 And Peter pass'd untroubled and unmoved.
102 Another boy with equal ease was found,
103 The money granted, and the victim bound;
104 And what his fate?--One night it chanced he fell
105 From the boat's mast and perish'd in her well.
106 Where fish were living kept, and where the boy
107 (So reason'd men) could not himself destroy:--
108 "Yes! so it was," said Peter, "in his
play,
109 (For he was idle both by night and day,)
110 He climb'd the main-mast and then fell below;"--
111 Then show'd his corpse and pointed to the blow:
112 "What said the jury?"--they were long in doubt,
113 But sturdy Peter faced the matter out:
114 So they dismiss'd him, saying at the time,
115 "Keep fast your hatchway when you've boys who climb."
116 This hit the conscience, and he colour'd more
117 Than for the closest questions put before.
118 Thus all his fears the verdict set aside,
119 And at the slave-shop Peter still applied.
120 Then came a boy, of manners soft and mild,--
121 Our seamen's wives with grief beheld the child;
122 All thought (the poor themselves) that he was one
123 Of gentle blood, some noble sinner's son,
124 Who had, belike, deceived some humble maid,
125 Whom he had first seduced and then betray'd:
126 However this, he seem'd a gracious lad,
127 In grief submissive and with patience sad.
128 Passive he labour'd, till his slender frame
129 Bent with his loads, and he at length was lame:
130 Strange that a frame so weak could bear so long
131 The grossest insult and the foulest wrong;
132 But there were causes--in the town they gave
133 Fire, food, and comfort, to the gentle slave;
134 And though stern Peter, with a cruel hand,
135 And knotted rope, enforced the rude command,
136 Yet he considered what he'd lately felt,
137 And his vile blows with selfish pity dealt.
138 One day such draughts the cruel fisher made,
139 He could not vend them in his borough-trade,
140 But sail'd for London-mart: the boy was ill,
141 But ever humbled to his master's will;
142 And on the river, where they smoothly sail'd,
143 He strove with terror and awhile prevail'd;
144 But new to danger on the angry sea,
145 He clung affrighten'd to his master's knee:
146 The boat grew leaky and the wind was strong,
147 Rough was the passage and the time was long;
148 His liquor fail'd, and Peter's wrath arose,--
149 No more is known--the rest we must suppose,
150 Or learn of Peter;--Peter says, he "spied
151 The stripling's danger and for harbour tried;
152 Meantime the fish, and then th' apprentice died."
153 The pitying women raised a clamour round,
154 And weeping said, "Thou hast thy 'prentice drown'd."
155 Now the stern man was summon'd to the hall,
156 To tell his tale before the burghers all:
157 He gave th' account; profess'd the lad he loved,
158 And kept his brazen features all unmoved.
159 The mayor himself with tone severe replied,
160 "Henceforth with thee shall never boy abide;
161 Hire thee a freeman, whom thou durst not beat,
162 But who, in thy despite, will sleep and eat:
163 Free thou art now!--again shouldst thou appear,
164 Thou'lt find thy sentence, like thy soul, severe."
165 Alas! for Peter not a helping hand,
166 So was he hated, could he now command;
167 Alone he row'd his boat, alone he cast
168 His nets beside, or made his anchor fast;
169 To hold a rope or hear a curse was none,--
170 He toil'd and rail'd; he groan'd and swore alone.
171 Thus by himself compell'd to live each day,
172 To wait for certain hours the tide's delay;
173 At the same times the same dull views to see,
174 The bounding marsh-bank and the blighted tree;
175 The water only, when the tides were high,
176 When low, the mud half-cover'd and half-dry;
177 The sun-burnt tar that blisters on the planks,
178 And bank-side stakes in their uneven ranks;
179 Heaps of entangled weeds that slowly float,
180 As the tide rolls by the impeded boat.
181 When tides were neap, and, in the sultry day,
182 Through the
tall bounding mud-banks made their way,
183 Which on each side rose swelling, and below
184 The dark warm flood ran silently and slow;
185 There anchoring, Peter chose from man to hide,
186 There hang his head, and view the lazy tide
187 In its hot slimy channel slowly glide;
188 Where the small eels that left the deeper way
189 For the warm shore, within the shallows play;
190 Where gaping mussels, left upon the mud,
191 Slope their slow passage to the fallen flood;--
192 Here dull and hopeless he'd lie down and trace
193 How sidelong crabs had scrawl'd their crooked race;
194 Or sadly listen to the tuneless cry
195 Of fishing gull or clanging golden-eye;
196 What time the sea-birds to the marsh would come,
197 And the loud bittern, from the bulrush home,
198 Gave from the salt-ditch side the bellowing boom:
199 He nursed the feelings these dull scenes produce,
200 And loved to stop beside the opening sluice;
201 Where the small stream, confined in narrow bound,
202 Ran with a dull, unvaried, sadd'ning sound;
203 Where all, presented to the eye or ear,
204 Oppress'd the soul with misery, grief, and fear.
205 Besides these objects, there were places three,
206 Which Peter seem'd with certain dread to see;
207 When he drew near them he would turn from each,
208 And loudly
whistle till he pass'd the reach.
209 A change of scene to him brought no relief;
210 In town, 'twas plain, men took him for a thief:
211 The sailors' wives would stop him in the street,
212 And say, "Now, Peter, thou'st no boy to beat":
213 Infants at play, when they perceived him, ran,
214 Warning each other--"That's the wicked man":
215 He growl'd an oath, and in an angry tone
216 Cursed the whole place and wish'd to be alone.
217 Alone he was, the same dull scenes in view,
218 And still more gloomy in his sight they grew:
219 Though man he hated, yet employ'd alone
220 At bootless labour, he would swear and groan,
221 Cursing the shoals that glided by the spot,
222 And gulls that caught them when his arts could not.
223 Cold nervous tremblings shook his sturdy frame,
224 And strange disease--he couldn't say the name;
225 Wild were his dreams, and oft he rose in fright,
226 Waked by his view of horrors in the night,--
227 Horrors that would the sternest minds amaze,
228 Horrors that demons might be proud to raise:
229 And though he felt forsaken, grieved at heart,
230 To think he lived from all mankind apart;
231 Yet, if a man approach'd, in terrors he would start.
232 A winter pass'd since Peter saw the town,
233 And summer-lodgers were again come down;
234 These, idly curious, with their glasses spied
235 The ships in bay as anchor'd for the tide,--
236 The river's craft,--the bustle of the quay,--
237 And sea-port views, which landmen love to see.
238 One, up the river, had a man and boat
239 Seen day by day, now anchor'd, now afloat;
240 Fisher he seemed, yet used no net nor hook;
241 Of sea-fowl swimming by no heed he took,
242 But on the gliding waves still fix'd his lazy look:
243 At certain stations he would view the stream,
244 As if he stood bewilder'd in a dream,
245 Or that some power had chain'd him for a time,
246 To feel a curse or meditate on crime.
247 This known, some curious, some in pity went,
248 And others question'd--"Wretch, dost thou repent?"
249 He heard, he trembled, and in fear resign'd
250 His boat: new terror fill'd his restless mind;
251 Furious he grew, and up the country ran,
252 And there they seized him--a distemper'd man:--
253 Him we received, and to a parish-bed,
254 Follow'd and curs'd, the groaning man was led.
255 Here when they saw him, whom they used to shun,
256 A lost, lone man, so harass'd and undone;
257 Our gentle females, ever prompt to feel,
258 Perceived compassion on their anger steal;
259 His crimes they could not from their memories blot,
260 But they were grieved, and trembled at his lot.
261 A priest too came, to whom his words are told
262 And all the signs they shudder'd to behold.
263 "Look! look!" they cried; "his limbs with
horror shake.
264 And as he grinds his teeth, what noise they make!
265 How glare his angry eyes, and yet he's not awake:
266 See! what cold drops upon his forehead stand,
267 And how he clenches that broad bony hand."
268 The priest attending, found he spoke at times
269 As one alluding to his fears and crimes:
270 "It was the fall," he mutter'd, "I can show
271 The manner how--I never struck a blow":--
272 And then aloud--"Unhand me, free my chain;
273 An oath, he fell--it struck him to the brain:--
274 Why ask my father?--that old man will swear
275 Against my life; besides, he wasn't there:--
276 What, all agreed?--Am I to die to-day?--
277 My Lord, in mercy, give me time to pray."
278 Then, as they watch'd him, calmer he became,
279 And grew so weak he couldn't move his frame,
280 But murmuring spake,--while they could see and hear
281 The start of terror and the groan of fear;
282 See the large dew-beads on his forehead rise,
283 And the cold death-drop glaze his sunken eyes;
284 Nor yet he died, but with unwonted force
285 Seem'd with some fancied being to discourse:
286 He knew not us, or with accustom'd art
287 He hid the knowledge, yet exposed his heart;
288 'Twas part confession, and the rest defence,
289 A madman's tale, with gleams of waking sense.
290 "I'll tell you all," he said, "the very
day
291 When the old man first placed them in my way:
292 My father's spirit--he who always tried
293 To give me trouble, when he lived and died--
294 When he was gone, he could not be content
295 To see my days in painful labour spent,
296 But would appoint his meetings, and he made
297 Me watch at these, and so neglect my trade.
298 "'Twas one hot noon, all silent, still, serene,
299 No living being had I lately seen;
300 I paddled up and down and dipp'd my net,
301 But (such his pleasure) I could nothing get,--
302 A father's pleasure, when his toil was done,
303 To plague and torture thus an only son!
304 And so I sat and look'd upon the stream,
305 How it ran on, and felt as in a dream:
306 But dream it was not: no!--I fix'd my eyes
307 On the mid stream and saw the spirits rise,
308 I saw my father on the water stand,
309 And hold a thin pale boy in either hand;
310 And there they glided ghastly on the top
311 Of the salt flood, and never touch'd a drop:
312 I would have struck them, but they knew th' intent,
313 And smiled upon the oar, and down they went.
314 "Now, from that day, whenever I began
315 To dip my net, there stood the hard old man--
316 He and those boys: I humbled me and pray'd
317 They would be gone;--they heeded not, but stay'd;
318 Nor could I turn, nor would the boat go by,
319 But gazing on the spirits, there was I:
320 They bade me leap to death, but I was loth to die:
321 And every day, as sure as day arose,
322 Would these three spirits meet me ere the close;
323 To hear and mark them daily was my doom,
324 And 'Come' they said, with weak, sad voices, 'come'.
325 To row away with all my strength I tried,
326 But there were they, hard by me in the tide,
327 The three unbodied forms--and 'Come', still 'come', they cried.
328 "Fathers should pity--but this old man shook
329 His hoary locks, and froze me by a look:
330 Thrice, when I struck them, through the water came
331 A hollow groan, that weaken'd all my frame:
332 'Father!' said I, 'have mercy':--He replied,
333 I know not what--the angry spirit lied,--
334 'Didst thou not draw thy knife?' said he:--'Twas true,
335 But I had pity and my arm withdrew:
336 He cried for mercy which I kindly gave,
337 But he has no compassion in his grave.
338 "There were three places, where they ever rose,--
339 The whole long river has not such as those,--
340 Places accursed, where, if a man remain,
341 He'll see the things which strike him to the brain;
342 And there they made me on my paddle lean,
343 And look at them for hours;--accursed scene!
344 When they would glide to that smooth eddy-space,
345 Then bid me leap and join them in the place;
346 And at my groans each little villain sprite
347 Enjoy'd my pains and vanish'd in delight.
348 "In one fierce summer-day, when my poor brain
349 Was burning hot, and cruel was my pain,
350 Then came this father-foe, and there he stood
351 With his two boys again upon the flood;
352 There was more mischief in their eyes, more glee
353 In their pale faces when they glared at me:
354 Still did they force me on the oar to rest,
355 And when they saw me fainting and oppress'd,
356 He, with his hand, the old man, scoop'd the flood,
357 And there came flame about him mix'd with blood;
358 He bade me stoop and look upon the place,
359 Then flung the hot-red liquor in my face;
360 Burning it blazed, and then I roar'd for pain,
361 I thought the demons would have turn'd my brain.
362 "Still there they stood, and forced me to behold
363 A place of horrors--they cannot be told--
364 Where the flood open'd, there I heard the shriek
365 Of tortured guilt--no earthly tongue can speak:
366 'All days alike! for ever!' did they say,
367 'And unremitted torments every day'--
368 Yes, so they said":--But here he ceased and gazed
369 On all around, affrighten'd and amazed;
370 And still he tried to speak, and look'd in dread
371 Of frighten'd females gathering round his bed;
372 Then dropp'd exhausted, and appear'd at rest,
373 Till the strong foe the vital powers possess'd:
374 Then with an inward, broken voice he cried,
375 "Again they come," and mutter'd as he died.
Together with the editors, the Department of English (University of Toronto), and the University of Toronto Press, the following individuals share copyright for the work that went into this edition:
Screen Design (Electronic Edition):
Sian Meikle (University of Toronto Library)
Scanning:
Sharine Leung (Centre for Computing in the Humanities)
Form:
couplets
1.
The Borough, published in 1810, is a long poem in twenty-four books or letters, These books give successively a detailed description of the place, the church, vicar, curate, sects, elections, professions, trades, amusements, clubs, inns, players, alms-house with accounts of the inhabitants (four books), the hospital with its governors, the poor and their dwellings, various characters (like Peter Grimes) among the poor (four books), prisons and schools.
79.
Pinn'd. Confined.
182.
When tides were neap. Soon after the first and third quarters of the moon, when high-water level stands at its lowest point.
208.
reach. A stretch of a river visible in one view.