The Boat-Stealing Episode

Background Information

This is a piece of poetry about Wordsworth’s childhood. In the extract the young Wordsworth takes a boat, without permission, for a row on Ullswater at night. His feelings of guilt summon up a vision of the mountain opposite looming out of the darkness as if to punish him. Although Wordsworth quickly returns the boat, he is haunted for many nights by the memory.

The extract comes from Wordsworth’s autobiographical poem The Prelude. There are many manuscripts of the poem and this lesson concentrates on investigating three of them: the earliest (1799), the earliest complete version of the whole 13 Book poem (1805) and the first published version after the poet's death in 14 Books (1850). The earliest version in manuscript is held in MS JJ.

Teacher Advice

Set the scene by explaining a little bit about The Prelude and the extract they will be looking at.

Split the class into 4 smaller groups. Each group receives a different coloured segment of the poem, with the three versions on it.

Ask them to discuss their segment and make notes, using the following as a guide:

Drafting

Find places where Wordsworth has made changes to the text.

Why do you think Wordsworth made changes?

Do you think they are successful?

Which of the three versions do you prefer, and why?

Language and imagery

Are there any images that you think are particularly powerful? Try and say why you think this is. Is it to do with the visual description of the words, the feelings of the boy, or the sound of the words?

Do you think anything is unsuccessful?

Can you find any literary techniques Wordsworth has used?

Think about use of simile (a comparison using "like" or "as"); metaphor (a description of one thing as if it were another); repetition; and other effects.

Tone

Does the mood or tone change in the course of the segment? If so, how?

Does the mood or tone change between versions? If so, how?

Using the Extracts

Give out sheets with all the segments on them to compare and read a single version of any one of the texts. Ask each group to report back on what they have discovered. Use their comments to stimulate general discussion. You could read the 1799 version from each segment before you get feedback, or get a volunteer from each group to do so.

Sum up the themes: nature, imagination, childhood. Identify and anticipate images used.

Finally, look at the manuscript of the poem. This manuscript is a letter in the hand of Dorothy Wordsworth (the poet’s sister), written from the German town of Goslar where William and Dorothy spent the winter of 1798/9. It was written to their friend and fellow poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge and contains the first versions of several extracts that became part of The Prelude, including boat stealing.

See if the class can find and read the extract, and the little bit of prose that Dorothy writes above it.

A. From The "Two-Part" Prelude , 1798-99; Cornell Reading Text, 81-129.

B. From The "Thirteen-Book"Prelude ", Cornell Reading Text, Book 1, 373-428.

C. From the "Fourteen-Book" Prelude: Cornell Reading Text, Book 1, 357-400.

Segment 1

They guided me: one evening, led by them,

I went alone into a Shepherd’s boat,

A skiff that to a willow-tree was tied

Within a rocky cave, its usual home;

The moon was up, the lake was shining clear

Among the hoary mountains: from the shore

I pushed, and struck the oars, and struck again

In cadence, and my little Boat moved on

Just like a man who walks with stately step

Though bent on speed.

One evening (surely I was led by her)

I went alone into a Shepherd’s Boat,

A Skiff that to a Willow-tree was tied

Within a rocky Cave, its usual home.

’Twas by the Shores of Patterdale, a Vale

Wherin I was a Stranger, thither come

A Schoolboy Traveller at the Holidays.

Forth rambled from the Village Inn alone,

No sooner had I sight of this small Skiff,

Discover'd thus by unexpected chance,

Than I unloos'd her tether and embark'd.

The moon was up, the Lake was shining clear

Among the hoary mountains; from the Shore

I push'd, and struck the oars, and struck again

In cadence, and my little Boat mov'd on

Even like a man who moves with stately step

Though bent on speed.

One summer evening (led by her) I found

A little Boat tied to a Willow-tree

Within a rocky cave, its usual home.

Straight I unloosed her chain, and, stepping in,

Pushed from the shore.

Segment 2

It was an act of stealth

And troubled pleasure; not without the voice

Of mountain-echoes did my boat move on,

Leaving behind her still on either side

Small circles glittering idly in the moon

Until they melted all into one track

Of sparkling light. A rocky steep uprose

Above the cavern of the willow-tree,

And now, as suited one who proudly rowed

With his best skill, I fixed a steady view

Upon the top of that same craggy ridge,

The bound of the horizon—for behind

Was nothing -- but the stars and the grey sky.

It was an act of stealth

And troubled pleasure: nor without the voice

Of mountain echoes did my Boat move on,

Leaving behind her still on either side

Small circles glittering idly in the moon,

Until they melted all into one track

Of sparkling light. A rocky steep uprose

Above the Cavern of the Willow-tree,

And now, as suited one who proudly rowed

With his best skill, I fix'd a steady view

Upon the top of that same craggy ridge,

The bound of the horizon, for behind

Was nothing but the stars and the grey sky.

It was an act of stealth

And troubled pleasure, nor without the voice

Of mountain-echoes did my Boat move on,

Leaving behind her still, on either side,

Small circles glittering idly in the moon,

Until they melted all into one track

Of sparkling light. But now, like one who rows,

(Proud of his skill) to reach a chosen point

With an unswerving line, I fixed my view

Upon the summit of a craggy ridge,

The horizon’s utmost boundary; for above

Was nothing but the stars and the grey sky.

Segment 3

She was an elfin Pinnace; lustily

I dipp'd my oars into the silent Lake,

And as I rose upon the stroke, my Boat

Went heaving through the water, like a Swan,

When from behind that craggy Steep, till then

The bound of the horizon, a huge Cliff,

As if with voluntary power instinct,

Uprear'd its head: I struck, and struck again,

And, growing still in stature, the huge Cliff

Rose up between me and the stars, and still,

With measur'd motion, like a living thing,

Strode after me.

She was an elfin pinnace; lustily

I dipped my oars into the silent lake,

And as I rose upon the stroke my boat

Went heaving through the water like a swan—

When from behind that craggy steep, till then

The bound of the horizon, a huge cliff,

As if with voluntary power instinct,

Upreared its head. I struck and struck again,

And, growing still in stature, the huge cliff

Rose up between me and the stars, and still

With measured motion, like a living thing

Strode after me.

She was an elfin Pinnace; lustily

I dipped my oars into the silent Lake,

And, as I rose upon the stroke, my boat

Went heaving through the Water like a swan:

When, from behind that craggy Steep, till then

The horizon’s bound, a huge peak, black and huge,

As if with voluntary power instinct

Upreared its head. -- I struck, and struck again,

And, growing still in stature, the grim Shape

Towered up between me and the stars, and still,

For so it seemed, with a purpose of its own

And measured motion like a living Thing,

Strode after me.

Segment 4

With trembling hands I turned,

And through the silent water stole my way

Back to the Cavern of the Willow tree.

There, in her mooring-place, I left my Bark,

And through the meadows [homeward] went with grave

And serious thoughts: and after I had seen

That spectacle, for many days my brain

Work'd with a dim and undetermin'd sense

Of unknown modes of being: in my thoughts

There was a darkness, call it solitude,

Or blank desertion; no familiar shapes

Of hourly objects, images of trees,

Of sea, or sky, no colours of green fields;

But huge and mighty Forms, that do not live

Like living men mov'd slowly through my mind

By day and were the trouble of my dreams.

With trembling hands I turned

And through the silent water stole my way

Back to the cavern of the willow-tree

There, in her mooring-place, I left my bark

And through the meadows homeward went with grave

And serious thoughts; and after I had seen

That spectacle, for many days my brain

Worked with a dim and undetermined sense

Of unknown modes of being. In my thoughts

There was a darkness—call it solitude

Or blank desertion—no familiar shapes

Of hourly objects, images of trees,

Of sea or sky, no colours of green fields,

But huge and mighty forms that do not live

Like living men moved slowly through my mind

By day, and were the trouble of my dreams.

With trembling oars I turned,

And through the silent water stole my way

Back to the Covert of the Willow-tree;

There, in her mooring-place, I left my Bark, —

And through the meadows homeward went, in grave

And serious mood; but after I had seen

That spectacle, for many days, my brain

Worked with a dim and undetermined sense

Of unknown modes of being; o’er my thoughts

There hung a darkness, call it solitude

Or blank desertion. No familiar Shapes

Remained, no pleasant images of trees,

Of sea or Sky, no colours of green fields,

But huge and mighty Forms, that do not live

Like living men, moved slowly through the mind

By day, and were a trouble to my dreams.