Prefaces and Appendices

THE

FARMER’S BOY;

A RURAL POEM,

IN FOUR BOOKS

BY

ROBERT BLOOMFIELD.

‘A Shepherd’s Boy....he seeks no better name.’

With Ornaments engraved in Wood by Anderson.

LONDON:

PRINTED BY T. BENSLEY, BOLT-COURT, FLEET-STREET;

FOR VERNOR AND HOOD, POULTRY;

T.C. RICKMAN, UPPER MARY-LE-BONE-STREET; INGRAM, BURY;

AND BOOTH, NORWICH.

MDCCC.

I had been a little accustomed to the effect of prejudices: and I was determined to
judge, in the only just and reasonable way, of the Work, by the Work itself.

I had soon, however, the pleasure of finding myself relieved from that apprehension:
and of discovering that, although the delineation of Rural Scenery naturally branches itself into these divisions, there was little else except the
General Qualities of a musical ear; flowing numbers, Feeling, Piety, poetic Imagery
and Animation, a taste for the picturesque, a true sense of the natural and pathetic,
force of thought, and liveliness of imagination, which were in common between Thomson
and this Author. And these are qualities which whoever has the eye, the heart, the
awakened and surrounding intellect, and the diviner sense of the Poet; which alone
can deserve the name, must possess.

I intend some farther and more particular Critical Remarks on this charming Performance. But I now pass to the Account of the Author himself,
as given me by his Brother:… a Man to whom also I was entirely a stranger:… but whose
Candor, good Sense, and brotherly Affection, appear in this Narrative; and of the
justness of whose Understanding, and the Goodness of his Heart, I have had many Proofs,
in consequence of a correspondence with him on different occasions which have since
arisen, when this had made me acquainted with him, and interested me in his behalf.

In writing to me, Mr. George Bloomfield, who is a Shoemaker also, as his Brother, and lives at Bury, thus expresses himself.

Though the Mother was left a Widow with six small Children, yet with the help of Friends
she managed to give each of them a little schooling.

She wrote therefore,’ Mr. G. Bloomfield continues, ‘to me and my Brother Nat (then in London), to assist her; mentioning that he, Robert, was so small of his age that Mr. Austin said he was not likely to be able to get his living by hard labour.’

Mr. G. Bloomfield on this informed his Mother that, if she would let him take the Boy with him, he
would take him, and teach him to make shoes: and Nat promised to clothe him. The Mother, upon this offer, took coach and came to London, to Mr. G. Bloomfield, with the Boy: for she said, she never should have been happy if she had not put
him herself into his hands.

Mr. G. Bloomfield then lived at Mr. Simm’s, No. 7, Fisher’s-court, Bell-alley, Coleman-street. “It is customary”, he continues, “in such houses as are let to poor people in London, to have light Garrets fit for Mechanics to work in. In the Garret, where we had
two turn-up Beds, and five of us worked, I received little Robert.

As we were all single Men, Lodgers at a Shilling per week each, our beds were coarse,
and all things far from being clean and snug, like what Robert had left at Sapiston. Robert was our man, to fetch all things to hand. At Noon he fetched our Dinners from the
Cook’s Shop: and any one of our fellow workmen that wanted to have any thing fetched
in, would send him, and assist in his work and teach him, for a recompense for his
trouble.

He frequently met with words that he was unacquainted with: of this he often complained.
I one day happened at a Book-stall to see a small Dictionary, which had been very
ill used. I bought it for him for 4d. By the help of this he in little time could
read and comprehend the long and beautiful speeches of Burke, Fox, or North.

One Sunday, after an whole day’s stroll in the country, we by accident went into a dissenting
Meeting-house in the Old Jewry, where a Gentleman was lecturing. This Man filled little Robert with astonishment. The House was amazingly crowded with the most genteel people;
and though we were forced to stand still in the Aisle, and were much pressed, yet
Robert always quickened his steps to get into the Town on a Sunday evening soon enough to
attend this Lecture.

Of him Robert learned to accent what he called hard words; and otherwise improved himself; and gain’d the most enlarged notions of Providence.

THE MILK-MAID.

I.

II.

III.

IV.

V.

About this time there came a Man to lodge at our Lodgings that was troubled with fits.
Robert was so much hurt to see this poor creature drawn into such frightful forms, and to
hear his horrid screams, that I was forced to leave the Lodging. We went to Blue Hart-court, Bell-alley. In our new Garret we found a singular character, James Kay, a native of Dundee. He was a middle-aged man, of a good understanding, and yet a furious Calvinist. He had many Books,…and some which he did not value: such as the Seasons, Paradise Lost, and some Novels. These Books he lent to Robert; who spent all his leisure hours in reading the Seasons, which he was now capable of reading. I never heard him give so much praise to any
Book as to that.

The Man by whom Robert and I were employ’d, Mr. Chamberlayne, of Cheapside, took an active part against the lawful journeymen; and even went so far as to pay
off every man that worked for him that had joined their Clubs. This so exasperated
the men, that their acting Committee soon looked for unlawful men (as they called them) among Chamberlayne’s workmen.’

They found out little Robert, and threatened to prosecute Chamberlayne for employing him, and to prosecute his Brother, Mr. G. Bloomfield, for teaching him. Chamberlayne requested of the Brother to go on and bring it to
a Trial; for that he would defend it; and that neither George nor Robert should be hurt.

In the mean time George was much insulted for having refus’d to join upon this occasion those who called
themselves, exclusively, the Lawful Crafts. George, who says he was never famed for patience, (it is not indeed so much as might be
sometimes wish’d, very often the lot of strong and acute minds to possess largely
of this virtue,) took his pen, and addressed a Letter to one of the most active of
their Committee-men (a man of very bad character). In this, after stating that he
took Robert at his Mother’s request, he made free as well with the private character of this
man as with the views of the Committee. ‘This,’ says George, ‘was very foolish; for it made things worse: but I felt too much to refrain.’

What connects this episodical circumstance with the character of our Author follows
in his Brother’s words.

‘Robert naturally fond of Peace, and fearful for my personal safety, begged to be suffered
to retire from the storm.

Here he liv’d two Months:…at length, as the dispute in the trade still remained undecided,
Mr. Dudbridge offered to take Robert Apprentice, to secure him, at all events, from any consequences of the Litigation.’

He was bound by Mr. Ingram, of Bell-alley, to Mr. John Dudbridge. His Brother George paid five shillings for Robert, by way of form, as a premium. Dudbridge was their Landlord, and a Freeman of the City of London. He acted most honourably, and took no advantage of the power which the Indentures
gave him. George Bloomfield staid with Robert till he found he could work as expertly as his self.

After I left him, he studied Music, and was a good player on the Violin.

Soon after he married, Robert told me, in a Letter, that “he had sold his Fiddle and got a Wife.” Like most poor
men, he got a wife first, and had to get household stuff afterward. It took him some
years to get out of ready furnished Lodgings. At length, by hard working, &c. he acquired
a Bed of his own, and hired the room up one pair of stairs at 14, Bell-alley, Coleman-street. The Landlord kindly gave him leave to sit and work in the light Garret, two pair of stairs higher.

In this Garret, amid six or seven other workmen, his active Mind employed itself in composing
“The Farmer’s Boy”.

In my correspondence I have seen several poetical effusions of his; all of them of a good moral tendency; but which he very likely
would think do him little credit: on that account I have not preserved them.

Mr. George Bloomfield concludes this clear, affectionate, and interesting Narrative, by a very kind Address
to the Writer of this Preface. But, pleased as I am with the good opinion of a Man
like him, I must not take praise to myself for not having neglected or suppressed
such a Work when it came into my hands. And I have no farther merit than that of seeing
what it was impossible for an unprejudiced Mind not to see, and of doing what it was
impossible not to do.

But I join with him cordially in his prayer, ‘that God, the Giver of thought, may, as mental light spreads, raise up many who will turn a listening ear, and will
not despise

‘The short and simple Annals of the Poor.’

Very few words will complete what remains to be added.

The Proofs have gone through my hands. It has been printed slowly: because most carefully; as
it deserv’d to be printed.

I have no doubt of its Reception with the Public: I have none of its going down to
Posterity with honor; which is not always the Fate of productions which are popular
in their day.

CAPEL LOFFT.

Troston, N. Bury, Suffolk.

21 Dec. 1799.

[all edns from 2nd, except the 8th, add the following, although from the 9th edn the
paragraphs continue the Preface and are not entitled ‘Supplement’]

SUPPLEMENT

I have mention’d in the Preface ‘The Sailor’s Return,’ from an intimation by Mr. G. Bloomfield. From the Author himself, Mr. Robert Bloomfield, I am oblig’d with what part he can recollect of this Song, which I was desirous to recover. It was written shortly after the Peace with America and France. Probably some time in the Spring of 1784. The Author thinks the Title of it was ‘The Soldier’s Return,’ and that it was occasion’d by the arrival of some Regiments of British Soldiers
from remote parts of the Globe.

He says, ‘I have endeavour’d to bring it back to my mind: but can only remember the
following; which is not the beginning nor the finish.’

* * * * * * * *

I now quote a little Fragment in Blank verse from the same Letter: with a slight correction in a place or two where the distribution
or mechanism of the lines was not exact.

Subject. An Harvest Scene: describing Gleaners return’d from the Field.

The ear of the Author seems as sweetly attun’d to verse without as with Rhime: though
his less practice has given him proportionally less exactness.

It reminds one of the simple, tender, and flowing melody of the blank verse of Rowe: or of some of the affecting passages in the Paradise Regain’d of Milton.

When the Spirit of Christianity declares ‘blessed are the meek,’ every heart which considers what meekness is, feels the truth of that blessedness.
It may smooth the way, and prevent impediments, which a different temper raises to
temporal felicity: it certainly assures that Heaven which is within: and is a pledge and anticipation of the Heaven hereafter.

C. L.

APPENDIX

[In the 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th and 7th edns, Lofft added, after the poem, the following
Appendix. In the 8th edn, it was subjected to many cuts by Bloomfield, against Lofft’s
will. In the 9th and later edns it was absorbed, in the abridged form in which it
had appeared in the 8th edn, into the Supplement to the Preface.]

I now lay it before the Public in the words of Mr. Swan: who in a Letter address’d to me in The Ladies Museum of this Month, after congratulating me on my ‘successful efforts,’ (and with such
a Production to propose to public Attention how could they be unsuccessful?) ‘in rescuing
from oblivion a Poem, which for the harmony of its numbers, the beauty of its imagery,
originality of thought, elegance and chasteness of diction, (every circumstance consider’d,)
stands unrivall’d in the Annals of English Literature, and will descend to Posterity
with increasing celebrity,’ states the motive on which he writes: (a motive well meriting a Letter and a public statement:) ‘to
throw light upon the manner of the composition of the Farmer’s Boy; which appears
to him (and most justly) no inconsiderable addition to the well-earn’d laurels of
the Author.’

For the pleasure of the view which it includes of the character and manners of Mr.
Bloomfield, I shall, with the Author of this interesting Letter, go beyond the mere fact; and
give his narration of the cause and manner of the Discovery, as well as the Discovery itself.

Mr. Swan thus expresses himself:

‘From the pleasure I receiv’d in reading the Farmer’s Boy, and from some strange coincidences in the early part of Mr. Bloomfield’s life with
my own, I was naturally enough anxious to become acquainted with the Author. For this
purpose I obtain’d his address, and found him … the modest, the unambitious person
you describe; wondering at the praise and admiration with which his Poem has been
receiv’d; whose utmost ambition was to have presented a fair copy to his aged Mother,
as a pledge of filial affection, and a picture of his juvenile avocations. So unexpected
was the fame of his production, that the whole of his good fortune appears to him
as a dream.—“I had no more idea,” says he, “to be sent for by the Duke of Grafton,
and be so kindly and generously treated, than of the hour I shall die.”

I gave him,’ Mr. Swan continues, ‘my card of address, an invitation to my house, and a sincere profession
of friendship; if, among his numerous admirers, and noble and royal patrons, the latter
was worthy of acceptance.

Among other subjects of conversation respecting the Farmer’s Boy, I wish’d to be inform’d of his manner of composition. I enquir’d, as he compos’d
it in a garret, amid the bustle and noise of six or seven fellow workmen, whether
he us’d a slate; or wrote it on paper with a pencil, or pen and ink. But what was
my surprize when told that he had us’d neither.—My business, during the greatest part
of my life having led me into the line of litterary pursuits, and made me acquainted
with litterary men, I am, consequently, pretty well inform’d of the methods us’d by
authors for the retention of their productions. We are told, if my recollection is
just, that Milton took his Daughters as his amanuenses; that Savage, when his poverty
precluded him the conveniency of pen, ink, and paper, us’d to study in the streets,
and go into shops to record the productions of his fertile genius; that Pope, when
on visits at Lord Bolingbroke’s, us’d to ring up the servants at any hour in the night
for pen and ink, to write any thought that struck his lively and wakeful imagination;
that Dr. Blacklock, though blind, had the happy faculty of writing down, in a very
legible hand, the chaste and elegant productions of his Muse.

But this is not all.—He went still a step farther.—He not only compos’d and committed
that part of the work to his retentive memory, but he corrected it all in his head.
And, as he said, when it was thus prepar’d, … I had nothing to do but to write it down.

By this new and wonderful mode of composition he studied and completed his Farmer’s
Boy in a garret: among six or seven workmen, without their ever suspecting any thing
of the matter.

Sir, this to me was both new and wonderful; and induc’d me rather to communicate the
information to you through the medium of the Press than by writing; that it may meet
the eye of many, who will be equally struck and pleas’d with the novelty of the idea
as myself.’

I now pass to part of what has been fully and excellently said by Dr. Drake of Hadleigh, while investigating the merits of this astonishing Rural Poem.

‘I have read The Farmer’s Boy with a mixture of astonishment and delight. There is a pathetic simplicity in his
sentiments and descriptions that does honour to his head and heart.

The general characteristics of his Style, however, are sweetness and ease. In short,
I have no hesitation in declaring, that I think it, as a Rural and descriptive Poem, superior to any production since the days of Thomson.

It wants no reference to its Author’s uneducated poverty to render its excellence
the more striking; they are such as would confer durable Fame on the first and most
polish’d Poet in the Kingdom.’

‘From the pleasing duty of describing such a character’ (meaning the personal character
of Mr. Bloomfield) ‘let us now turn our attention to the species of composition of which his Poem is
so perfect a specimen. It has been observ’d in my sixteenth number that Pastoral Poetry in this country, with very few exceptions, has exhibited a tame and servile adherence
to classical imagery and costume; at the same time totally overlooking that profusion
of picturesque beauty, and that originality of manner and peculiarity of employment,
which our climate and our rustics every where present.

A few Authors were mention’d in that Essay as having judiciously deviated from the
customary plan: to these may now be added the name of Bloomfield, the Farmer’s Boy, though not assuming the form of an Eclogue, being peculiarly and exclusively, throughout
a pastoral Composition; not like the Poem of Thomson, taking a wide excursion through all the phaenomena of the Seasons, but merely limited to the rural occupation and business of the fields, the dairy, and the farm yard.

As with these employments, however, the vicissitudes of the Year are immediately and
necessarily connected, Mr. Bloomfield has, with propriety, divided his Poem into Four Books, affixing to those Books the Titles of the Seasons.

It is astonishing indeed what various and striking circumstances, peculiar to the
occupation of the British Farmer, and which are adapted to all the purposes of the pastoral Muse, had escaped our Poets, previous to the publication of Mr. Bloomfield’s Work.

Those who are partial to the Country;—and where is the man of Genius who feels not a delight approaching to ecstasy from
the contemplation of its scenery, and the happiness which its cultivation diffuses?—those
who have paid attention to the process of husbandry, and who view its occurrences
with interest; who are at the same time alive to all the minutiae of the animal and
vegetable creation; who mark

Though I have thus largely extracted, I cannot omit transferring hither the Analysis of the Poem, as given by Dr. Drake.

‘The first Book, intitled Spring, opens with an appropriate invocation. A transition is then made to the artless character
of Giles, the Farmer’s Boy; after which the scene near Euston in Suffolk is describ’d, and an amiable portrait of Mr. Austin immediately follows.

The second Book, or Summer, commences with a characteristic sketch of the prudent yet benevolent Farmer. The
genial influence of the rain is then welcom’d; to which succeeds a most delicious
picture of a green and woody covert with all its insect tribe. The ascension of the
sky-lark, the peaceful repose of Giles, a view of the ripening harvest, with some moral reflections on Nature and her great
Creator, are introduced: followed by animated descriptions of reaping, gleaning, the
honest exultation of the Farmer, the beauty of the Country Girl, and the wholesome
refreshment of the field. Animals teazed by insects, the cruelty of docking horses,
the insolence of the gander, the apathy of the swine, are drawn in a striking manner:
and the Book concludes with masterly pictures of a twilight repose, a midnight storm
of thunder and lightning, and views of the ancient and present mode of celebrating
Harvest-home.

The third Book, Autumn, is introduc’d with a delineation of forest scenery, and pigs fattening on fallen
acorns. Sketches of wild ducks and their haunts, of hogs settling to repose in a wood,
and of wheat sowing, succeed. The sound of village bells suggests a most pleasing
digression: of which the church and its pastor, the rustic amusements of a Sunday,
the Village Maids, and a most pathetic description of a distracted Female, are the
prominent features. Returning to rural business, Giles is drawn guarding the rising wheat from birds:—his little hut, with his preparation
for the reception of his playmates, their treachery and his disappointment, are conceiv’d
and colour’d in an exquisite style. Fox-Hunting, the Fox-hound’s epitaph, the long
autumnal evenings, a description of domestic fowl, and a welcome to the snowy nights
of Winter, form the concluding topics of this Season.

The fourth Book, under the appellation of Winter, is usher’d in by some humane injunctions for the treatment of storm-pinch’d cattle.
The frozen turnips are broken for them: and the cowyard at night is describ’d. The
conviviality of a Christmas evening, and the conversation round the fire, with the
admonitions from the Master’s chair, are depicted in a manner truly pleasing. The
Sea Boy and the Farmer’s Boy are contrasted with much effect:—and the ploughman feeding his horses at night, with
the comparison between the cart-horse and post-horse, have great merit. The mastiff
turn’d sheep-biter is next delineated; succeeded by a description of a moon-light
night, and the appearance of a spectre.

The counting of the Sheep in the fold, and the adopted Lambs, are beautiful paintings:
and with the Triumph of Giles on the conclusion of the Year, and his Address to the Deity, the Book and Poem close.

Such are the Materials of which THE FARMER’S BOY is constructed. Several of the topics,
it will be perceiv’d are new to Poetry; and of those which are in their title familiar to the readers of our descriptive Bards, it will be found that the imagery
and adjunctive circumstances are original, and the effort of a mind practis’d in the
rare art of selecting and combining the most striking and picturesque features of
an object.’

Dr. Drake after this well accounts for the poetic singularity that the Poetry of Thomson should have past through a mind so enthusiastically enamor’d of it, without impairing
the originality of its character, when exercis’d on a subject so much leading to imitation.
This he explains, and justly, by the vivid impressions on a most sensible and powerful
imagination in his earliest youth, anterior to the study of any Poet.

Dr. Drake expresses his astonishment at the Versification and Diction of this Poem. And says most truly, ‘I am well aware that smooth and flowing lines
are of easy purchase, and the property of almost every poetaster of the day: but the
versification of Mr. Bloomfield is of another character; it displays beauties of the most positive kind, and those
witcheries of expression which are only to be acquir’d by the united efforts of Genius
and Study.

It is a Work which proves how inexhaustible the features of the World we inhabit:
how from objects which the mass of mankind is daily accustom’d to pass with indifference
and neglect, Genius can still produce pictures the most fascinating, and of the most interesting tendency.
For it is not to imagery alone, though such as here depicted might ensure the meed of Fame, that the Farmer’s
Boy will owe its value with us and with posterity. A Morality the most pathetic and pure, the feelings of a heart alive to all the tenderest duties of humanity and
religion, consecrate its glowing landscapes, and shed an interest over them, a spirit
of devotion, that calm and rational delight which the goodness and greatness of the
Creator ought ever to inspire.’

Dr. Drake confirms, by copious and very judicious Extracts from the various parts of the Poem, as they offer themselves to critical selection,
in accompanying the Farmer’s Boy through the Circle of his year, the Judgment which
he has form’d with so much ability, taste, and feeling, and has so agreeably express’d,
of the Merits of our English Georgic. And he speaks in his third and last Essay on it thus:

‘From the review we have now taken of The Farmer’s Boy, it will be evident, I think, that owing to its harmony and sweetness of versification,
its benevolence of sentiment, and originality of imagery, it is entitled to rank very
high in the class of descriptive and pastoral Poetry.’

He concludes with an highly animated and feeling anticipation of that public attention
to the Poem and to its Author, merited in every view, and which already has manifested
itself in such an extent.

In the Critical Remarks I intended I find myself so much agreeing in sentiment with Dr. Drake that I shall
attempt little more than merely to offer some few observations. One of these relates
to the coincidences of thought and manner in the Farmer’s Boy with other writings. These, as would previously
be expected from what has been said, are extremely few indeed. And almost all that
are particularly of moment in appreciating the poetical excellences of the Work are
most truly coincidences, and cannot be otherwise consider’d.

I. v. 3383–40.

The passage to which Mr. Smith referr’d me is this. (It is not in my Edition of Ausonius; but he sent me a Copy.)

Id.xiv.

I am favor’d with a Translation made by Mr. Smith in his very early days. And hope that as a brother Etonian he allows me to quote it.

In the Procession of Spring there is a fine series of allegorical Images.

I. v. 271–6.

Compare now this of Lucretius.

Ed. Brindley, 1749.

Or in the very words of Bloomfield,

Hope here occupies the place of Zephyrus. Delight on tip-toe supporting the lucid train of Spring,—the image and attitude so full of life and beauty,—is our Poet’s own. And what Poet,
what Painter, would not have been proud of it?

In another passage,

This of Lucretius will be found to have much similitude:

782, 3.

And that exceedingly fine verse,

calls to mind the ever-memorable exordium of the Roman Poet.

If we admire the imitative force of this line in the epic majesty of Virgilian numbers,

shall we not admire the imitative harmony of this; attun’d certainly with not less
felicity to the sweetness of the pastoral reed,

The pause on the first syllable of the verse has been an admir’d beauty in Homer and
Milton.

We have this beauty,—coinciding with the best examples, though underiv’d from them,—in
a cadence of most pathetic softness.

The turn of this thought,

III. v. 241, &c.

I believe is from Scripture. Prov. iii. 28.—And so I think certainly is that,

III. 37.

But the most remarkable of all, and where I had no expectation of finding a similitude,
is in near the close of the Winter.

IV, 255–60.

In Hercules the Lion-slayer there is this passage:

ἨΡΑΚΛ ΛΕΟΝΤΟΦ.

C. L.

Troston, 22 Aug. 1800.

SUPPLEMENT

[added in 8th and later editions]

Mr. Park’s Statement

of

verbal variations

Between the MS. Copy and Printed Poem of

“The Farmer’s Boy.”

SPRING.

SUMMER.

AUTUMN.

WINTER.

It will be seen, from this minute statement, that the Editor’s emendations were very
inconsiderable, though most of them appear highly judicious, and many of them absolutely
necessary, for the purpose of removing certain grammatical inaccuracies, which may
be considered as mere freckles on the natural complexion of our Farmer’s Boy.

I have been indulged with a similar opportunity of inspecting the MS. copy of those
admirable ‘Tales, Ballads, and Songs,’ recently published by the same interesting
poet; but the Editor’s hints for correction proved too few and too unimportant to
authorise any public specification of them.

Mr. Editor, yours, &c.

T. PARK.

Jan.18, 1802

________________

PREFACE (1809)

[In the stereotype Poems of Robert Bloomfield, 1809, Bloomfield heavily revised the Preface, removing Lofft’s voice and addressing
the reader in his own person, while preserving some of the biographical information
from former editions. He also introduced new material about the circumstances of the
poem’s composition and publication.]

Eight years have elapsed since the first publication of ‘The Farmer’s Boy.’ It now assumes,
together with the later Poems, a new form; and my friend Mr. Lofft, to whom I am so
obviously and so materially indebted for success, with great liberality suggests,
that a general publication of the works in connection seems to require something of
a general Preface adapted to the occasion, and coming from myself. But as all that
I have written will now be comprised in two volumes, some further remarks will be
found in my second volume respecting the Tales and Ballads. What is here said relates
to the Farmer’s Boy alone.

The plain, candid memoir, which has hitherto preceded the Poem, as given by my Brother
to Mr. Lofft, has interested thousands in my favour, and spared me those painful feelings
which must have arisen from a perpetual recurrence of the same questions in all companies,
and from a perplexing wish to comply with the natural curiosity of strangers. Wherever
I have been introduced, almost without exception, my history has been previously known,
even to the ‘selling of my fiddle,’ and I have immediately been permitted to take
my seat, and to join the conversation, if I found any thing to say; or to remain silent
until I did. And this is no small privilege to a man swung at arm’s length into publicity
with all his mechanical habits and embarrassments about him. How far such habits are,
or ought to be, overcome, is a question upon which I have not decided: but I have
been sometimes hurt, or amused, at witnessing the evident disappointment of such persons
as appeared to expect in the writer of Pastoral poetry, and literally a Cow-boy, the
brilliancy and the vivacity of polished conversation; to which I never had made the
slightest pretences.

The memoir above mentioned has not only relieved me personally in many cases, but
it has been accompanied by remarks from Mr. Lofft as to the promiscuous gifts which
God has bestowed on his creatures, without regard to worldly rank, that I am confident
will redound to the credit of the writer, and which came to the public with a thousand
times more power and effect than they could have done had I been capable of writing
them myself.

Much as I have been benefited by this biographical memoir, and gratified as I have
been to find my path cleared before me, it would be ungenerous to the purchasers who
may obtain this new and cheaper edition, and who may have no previous knowledge of
the Author’s childhood, wholly to omit a narrative of facts which he himself declares
to be of importance, and to carry with it an interest both connectedly and peculiarly
its own. I will therefore give the substance of that narrative in my Brother’s words,
with occasional explanations;—and then resume my own tale.

In Nov. 1798, G. B. writing to Mr. Lofft, says: ‘As I spent near five years with the
Author, from the time he was fourteen years and a half years old till he was turned
of twenty, the most interesting time of life (I mean the time that instruction is
acquired, if acquired at all), I think I am able to give a better account of him than
any one can, or than he can of himself: for his modesty would not let him speak of
his temper, disposition, or morals.

Though the mother was left a widow with six small children, yet with the help of friends
she managed to give each of them a little schooling.

Robert was accordingly sent to Mr. Rodwell, of Ixworth, to be improved in writing:
but he did not go to that school more than two or three months, nor was ever sent
to any other; his mother again marrying when Robert was about seven years old.

By her second husband, John Glover, she had another family.

She wrote therefore to me and my brother Nat (then in London), to assist her; mentioning
that Robert was so small of his age that Mr. Austin said he was not likely to be able
to get his living by hard labour.’

The following anecdote must stand in Mr. Lofft’s words, as one of those tender fabrics
which it would be very easy to spoil, and impossible to mend.

‘Mr. G. Bloomfield on this informed his mother that, if she would let him take the
boy with him, he would take him, and teach him to make shoes: and Nat promised to
clothe him. The mother, upon this offer, took coach and came to London, to Mr. G.
Bloomfield, with the boy: for she said, she never should have been happy if she had
not put him herself into his hands.

“She charged me,” he adds, “as I valued a mother’s blessing, to watch over him, to set good examples for him,
and never to forget that he had lost his father”. I religiously confine myself to Mr. G. Bloomfield’s own words; and I think I should
wrong all the parties concerned, if, in mentioning this pathetic and successful admonition,
I were to use any other.

Mr. G. Bloomfield then lived at Mr. Simm’s, No. 7, Pitcher’s-court, Bell-alley, Coleman-street.
“It is customary,” he continues, “in such houses as are let to poor people in London,
to have light garrets fit for mechanics to work in. In the garret, where we had two
turn-up beds, and five of us worked, I received little Robert.

As we were all single men, lodgers at a shilling per week each, our beds were coarse,
and all things far from being clean and snug, like what Robert had left at Sapiston. Robert was our man, to fetch all things to hand. At noon he fetched our dinners from the
cook’s shop: and any one of our fellow workmen that wanted to have any thing fetched
in, would send him, and assist in his work and teach him, for a recompense for his
trouble.

Every day when the Boy from the Public-house came for the pewter pots, and to hear
what Porter was wanted, he always brought the yesterday’s newspaper. The reading of the Paper we had been used to take by turns; but after Robert came, he mostly read for us,—because his time was of least value.

He frequently met with words that he was unacquainted with: of this he often complained.
I one day happened at a book-stall to see a small dictionary, which had been very
ill used. I bought it for him for 4d. By the help of this he in little time could
read and comprehend the long and beautiful speeches of Burke, Fox, or North.

One Sunday, after an whole day’s stroll in the country, we by accident went into a
dissenting meeting-house in the Old Jewry, where a gentleman was lecturing. This man
filled little Robert with astonishment. The house was amazingly crowded with the most
genteel people; and though we were forced to stand still in the aisle, and were much
pressed, yet Robert always quickened his steps to get into the town on a Sunday evening
soon enough to attend this lecture.

Of him Robert learned to accent what he called hard words; and otherwise improved himself; and gain’d the most enlarged notions of Providence.

He went sometimes with me to a debating society at Coachmaker’s-hall, but not often;
and a few times to Covent-garden theatre. These are all the opportunities he ever
had to learn from public speakers. As to Books, he had to wade through two or three
Folios: an History of England, British Traveller, and a Geography. But he always read
them as a task, or to oblige us who bought them. And as they came in sixpenny numbers
weekly, he had about as many hours to read as other boys spend in play.

I at that time read the London Magazine; and in that work about two sheets were set apart for a Review—Robert seemed always
eager to read this review. Here he could see what the literary men were doing, and
learn how to judge of the merits of the works that come out. And I observed that he
always looked at the Poet’s Corner. And one day he repeated a Song which he composed
to an old tune. I was much surprised that he should make so smooth verses; so I persuaded
him to try whether the Editor of our Paper would give them a place in Poet’s Corner.
And he succeeded, and they were printed. And as I forget his other early productions,
I shall copy this.

A VILLAGE GIRL

About this time there came a man to lodge at our lodgings that was troubled with fits.
Robert was so much hurt to see this poor creature drawn into such frightful forms,
and to hear his horrid screams, that I was forced to leave the lodging. We went to
Blue Hart-court, Bell-alley. In our new garret we found a singular character, James
Kay, a native of Dundee. He was a middle-aged man, of a good understanding, and yet
a furious Calvinist. He had many books,—and some which he did not value: such as the
Seasons, Paradise Lost, and some Novels. These books he lent to Robert; who spent
all his leisure hours in reading The Seasons, which he was now capable of reading.
I never heard him give so much praise to any book as to that.

I think it was in the year 1784 that the question came to be decided between the journeymen
shoemakers; whether those who had learn’d without serving an apprenticeship could
follow the trade?

The man by whom Robert and I were employ’d, Mr. Chamberlayne, of Cheapside, took an
active part against the lawful journeymen; and even went so far as to pay off every
man that worked for him that had joined their clubs. This so exasperated the men,
that their acting committee soon looked for unlawful men (as they called them) among
Chamberlayne’s workmen.’

A part of the Narrative here naturally turned upon the spiteful and contentious bickerings
of men who were all angry together; which contentions ultimately forced me from London.
At this moment I feel much obliged to them. They treated me with a visit to my friends,
and a charming holiday; which George thus describes:

‘Robert naturally fond of Peace, and fearful for my personal safety, begged to be
suffered to retire from the storm.

He came home; and Mr. Austin kindly bade him take his house for his home till he could
return to me. And here, with his mind glowing with the fine descriptions of rural
scenery which he found in Thomson’s Seasons, he again retraced the very fields where
first he began to think. Here, free from smoke, the noise, the contention of the city,
he imbibed that love of rural simplicity and rural innocence, which fitted him, in
a great degree, to be the writer of such a thing as “The Farmer’s Boy”.

Here he lived two months:—at length, as the dispute in the trade still remained undecided,
Mr. Dudbridge offered to take Robert apprentice, to secure him, at all events, from
any consequences of the litigation.’

The indentures were avowedly for the above purpose only; and, after detailing the
transaction, George proceeds thus:

‘When I left London he was turned of twenty and much of my happiness since has arisen
from a constant correspondence which I have held with him.

But as my brother Nat had married a Woolwich woman, it happened that Robert took a
fancy to Mary-Anne Church, a young woman of that town, whose father is a boat-builder
in the Government yard there. He married 12th Dec. 1790.

Soon after he married, Robert told me, in a letter, that ‘he had sold his fiddle and
got a wife.’ Like most poor men, he got a wife first, and had to get household stuff
afterward. It took him some time to get out of ready-furnished lodgings. At length,
by hard working, &c he acquired a bed of his own, and hired the room up one pair of
stairs at 14, Bell-alley, Coleman-street. The landlord kindly gave him leave to sit
and work in the light garret, two pair of stairs higher.

In this garret, amid six or seven other workmen, his active mind employed itself in
composing ‘The Farmer’s Boy.’

In my correspondence I have seen several poetical effusions of his; all of them of
a good moral tendency; but which he very likely would think do him little credit:
on that account I have not preserved them.

The following conclusion of George’s original Narrative I always thought peculiarly
happy; and well might Mr. Lofft join with him cordially in his prayer, ‘that God, the Giver of thought, may, as mental light spreads, raise up many who will turn a listening ear, and will
not despise

Further information was given soon after by my Brother in the following Letter to
Mr. Lofft, and in the anecdote which closes this part of the history:

‘The late Mr. Austin’s wife was a Manby (my mother’s sister). And it may seem strange
that, in “The Farmer’s Boy,” Giles no where calls him Uncle, but Master. The treatment that my brother Robert experienced
from Mr. Austin did not differ in any respect from the treatment that all the servant
boys experienced who lived with him. Mr. Austin was the father of fourteen children
by my aunt (he never had any other wife). He left a decent provision for the five
children that survived him: so that it could not be expected he should have any thing
to give to poor relations. And I don’t see a possibility of making a difference between
Giles and the boys that were not related to Mr. Austin: or he treated all his servants
exactly as he did his sons. They all worked hard; all lived well. The Duke had not
a better man tenant to him than the late Mr. Austin. I saw numbers of the husbandmen
in tears when he was buried. He was beloved by all who knew him. But I imagine that
Robert thought that when he was speaking of Benevolence that was universal, he had
no occasion to mention the accidental circumstance of his being related to the good
man of whom he sung.’

_______

‘I have him in my mind’s eye a little boy; not bigger than boys generally are at twelve
years old. When I met him and his mother at the inn, he strutted before us, dressed
just as he came from keeping sheep, hogs, &c. his shoes filled full of stumps in the
heels. He looking about him, slipped up—his nails were unused to a flat pavement.
I remember viewing him as he scampered up: how small he was. Little thought, that
little, fatherless boy would be one day known and esteemed by the most learned, the
most respected, the wisest, and the best men of the kingdom.’

________

Amongst the anecdotes interspersed in the foregoing Narrative, distinguished for ingenuousness
and feeling, that which the reader has just seen, if worth correcting in a slight
particular, may be done here; and I would not do it but that I find the fact, trifling
as it may appear to some, has been repeatedly noticed. George states that he received
his brother in London, ‘dressed just as he came from keeping sheep, hogs, &c.’ Now
the strict truth of the case is this; that I came (on the 29th of June, 1781) in my
Sunday clothes, such as they were; for I well remember the palpitation of my heart
on receiving his proposals to come to town, and how incessantly I thought of the change
I was going to experience: remember well selling my smock frock for a shilling, and
slyly washing my best hat in the horsepond, to give it a gloss fit to appear in the
meridian of London. On entering Whitechapel, riding backwards on the coach, a long
line of carriages in the centre of the street attracted my particular notice; and
I anxiously looked for the principal object in that procession of which I conceived
them to be a part: little dreaming that they all stood for hire! But these are surely
trifling anecdotes; and I will endeavour to record something more important.

Taking it then for granted, that my history, so far as it has been stated, is fully
and sufficiently known, I mean to elucidate a fact or two to which an allusion has
been made in the former Preface, so as to throw an additional light on subjects which
I am persuaded will not be deemed uninteresting by the lovers of literature.

It cannot be forgotten by any one who has thought of my history and success, that
Mr. Lofft has said, when speaking of the MS. of this Poem, that ‘it had before been
shown to some persons in London; whose indifference toward it may probably he explained,
when it is considered that it came to their hands under no circumstances of adventitious
recommendation. With some a person must be rich, or titled, or fashionable as a literary
name, or at least fashionable in some respect, good or bad, before any thing which
he can offer will be thought worthy of notice’.

Nothing surely can so effectually illustrate this fact as a plain account of my unsuccessful
attempts in publicly stating which, on such an occasion as this, I see not the smallest
impropriety; as it may teach men in my own station of life not to despair, if they
feel themselves morally and intellectually worthy of notice; and at the same time
teach them not to rely on an untried and brittle support, by throwing away the honourable staff of mechanic
independence.

The following papers, which I now transcribe from originals, and copies in my possession,
accompanied the MS. of ‘The Farmer’s Boy’ to my brother George, at St. Edmund’s Bury,
to whom they are addressed. I have endeavoured to arrange them so as to make the story
as simple and as straight forward as possible.

London, Sunday, Sept. 16, 1798

Dear George,

When I began it, I thought to myself that I could complete it in a twelvemonth, allowing
myself three months for each quarter; but I soon found that I could not; and indeed
I made it longer than I at first intended. Nine tenths of it were put together as
I sat at work, where there are usually six of us. No one in the house has any knowledge
of what I have employed my thoughts about when I did not talk.

I chose to do it in rhime for this reason; because I found always that when I put
two or three lines together in blank verse, or something that sounded like it, it
was ten to one if it stood right when it came to be written down. Winter and half
of Autumn were done long before I could find leisure to write them. In the ‘Harvest
Home’ you will find the essence of letters which you wrote formerly to London.

When I had nearly done it, it came strongly into my mind that very silly things are
sometimes printed; but by what means I knew not. To try to get at this knowledge,
I resolved to make some efforts of that sort; and what encouraged me to go through
with it was, that, if I got laughed at, no one that I cared for could know it, unless
I myself told them. I sometimes thought of venturing it into the house of some person
above a bookseller; but I never could find impudence enough to do it. So I carried
it, accompanied with the following letter, to your magazine man. He kept it eight
or ten days, and then sent a sober-looking, book faced man back with it, sending therewith
the little note which follows the letter.

(Copy)—No. 1.

To Mr. **********.

Sir,

A total stranger, very low, and very obscure, ventures to address you. In my sedentary
employment, as a journeyman shoemaker, I have amused and exercised my mind, I hope
innocently, in putting the little events of my boyage into metre; intending it as
a present to an aged Mother, now living on the spot; to whom the Church, the Mad Girl,
the Farm-house, and all the local circumstances of the piece, are intimately known.
Before I send it away, something persuades me that I might possibly find some person
capable, and possessing condescension enough to satisfy me in a desire I feel of knowing
whether the little piece, particularly the latter half, Autumn and Winter, contains
any thing like poetical merit; that is to say, to what excellence in others it makes
the nearest approaches. I am fully sensible, from my situation in the world, from
the nature of this application, and from the better employment of your time, Sir,
that silent neglect is what I have most reason to look for. But in that case 1 am
determined to rely on your justice so far as to let the copy be returned to me when
I call for it, which I mean to do this day fortnight; when, if I should find a word
of opinion inserted in the blank leaves, my end would be answered, and it shall always
be held in grateful remembrance by one who, with the strictest truth, and with all
possible deference and respect, subscribes, Sir,

Your very humble servant,

Robert Bloomfield

No.14, Great Bell-alley,

Coleman-street.

Reply—(No. 2.)

‘THE Farmer’s Boy may afford pleasure to the person for whom it is intended; but it
cannot be expected that any stranger should give his opinion of such a literary performance
to the Author.’

I next left it with Mr. *****, with the following letter. He sent it back in a few
hours with an answer—(No. 4.)

Copy—(No. 3.)

To Mr. *********.

June 21, 1798

Sir,

If the Poem now left in your hands, containing something less than fifteen hundred
lines, should be fortunate enough to gain an hour of your leisure, you can then judge
whether it is in itself worthy of publication; or, what is perhaps more to the point,
whether there is any probability of its repaying you, Sir, or myself, the expense
of publication. What that expense would be I know not; therefore can form no judgment
by myself without further information. All I can say is, that I could wish to see
it printed, if it were possible to have it done. If I hear nothing on these heads,
shall conclude that the little piece is unworthy your notice, and shall take care
that it be called for again.

With great respect, &c.

Robert Bloomfield

14, Little Bell-alley, Coleman-street.

Reply—(No. 4.);

‘Mr. ******s compliments to Mr. Bloomfield, and is much obliged to him for the offer
of his manuscript; but as poetry is quite out of his line, he begs leave to decline it.’

22 June, 1798.

I had now to find somebody who did print poetry. I accordingly left it with Mr. *******, and with it a copy of the letter
I had written to Mr. ******* (No. 3.) He kept it so long that I had to call several
times before I could get it. At last I went when he was in the way. The shopman, knowing
my errand, went into the compting-house, and presently came out with my book in his
hand, and asked me to step that way (to the back of the shop). I hesitated—but I had
gone too far to retreat. I went and took it, and was told to go into the compting-house.
When I went in, Mr. ******* spoke thus, as nearly as I can recollect:—‘Your poetry,
Mr. Bloomfield, I am afraid, won’t do for separate publication; unless you can get
some person to revise it for you. As you wish to see it printed, I think you had better
take it to some person who publishes a magazine. I think your wisest way would be
to take it to Mr. ******; and I have no doubt but he will insert it for you,’ &c.

I left him: and, as I should not like to buy my own rhimes, I did not take his advice.
I could wish to say more on this subject, but the parcel is waiting for my budget.
Pray remember this:—don’t give the book to my Mother, nor to any one else, till you
hear from me again.

London, Nov 7, 1798.

Dear George,

I Finished my last rather abruptly for want of time.—If I had given my little piece
to Mr. *******, even supposing that he would have accepted it, it would then have
taken perhaps six months at least, by monthly continuations, before it would all have
been printed. My chief pride would have been to have sent my Mother a printed copy; but, at the above rate, one copy only would have cost six shillings: I therefore
send it as it is. I never wrote it out but once. I have no copy of it, except in my
memory. You will find the copies of my letters to the parties miserably blotted, they
were written in haste: I meant to have transcribed them, but had not time.

Having never been instructed in grammar, it may abound in faults of that kind which
I am not aware of. The management of stops I don’t pretend to. I desired you not to
show it for this reason; because I think it would look awkward to give it even to
my Mother without some kind of introductory letter.

You will perceive that the information I principally wanted to gain, I could not gain;
that is, how to go about printing such a thing, and what it would cost. But as I could
not send my Mother a printed copy, I don’t trouble myself much to know whether it was want of merit, or want of patronage,
that made me fail.

You say you find pleasure in reading it; perhaps it arises principally from this:
you know all the situations, circumstances, and persons introduced into it. I wish
that pleasure may continue to you, and such of our friends as may happen to get hold
of it.—All well.

Your affectionate Brother,

Robert Bloomfield

Such were the efforts which I found courage enough to make; and here my efforts ended. Not so with my Brother. With the foregoing information in his hands,
he asked me by letter whether I had any objection to his showing the Poem to his neighbour
Mr. Lofft, whom I had never seen, nor of whose readiness to assist the poor or the
ignorant had an equal knowledge with my Brother, who lived on the spot. I left it
to him to do as he proposed, and not to miss so fair a chance of getting a sound critical
opinion, and that accompanied with feeling and good manners. George immediately carried
the Poem to Troston, with the following paper, which I now copy from his own hand-writing.

To Capel Lofft, Esq.

Bury, Nov. 1798.

‘Sir,

Common fame speaks of the willingness that you show in giving your counsel and advice
to the poor. This benevolent trait in your character has emboldened me to approach
you, to petition you to give your opinion on the enclosed piece. I fancy I see beauties
in it, and was thinking of applying to one of our printers to know, if, from the locality
of it, it would pay for printing (for ’tis a Suffolk piece); but it struck my mind
forcibly, that I should stand a better chance of meeting with that ingenuousness I
wish for, by begging the opinion of a man of genius and taste, than by applying to
a tradesman.

Since I have had the Poem in my hands I have never shown it to any one, nor spoke
of it; nor does any one here know of this application.

If, Sir, you will deign to give your opinion, I will never mention your name, unless
by your permission. This, I hope, will not be deemed an impertinent intrusion; for
’tis the high rank you hold in the literary world prompted me to this, because on
your judgment I can rely with satisfaction.

Let the result of this be what it may, your petitioner will ever revere your name.

Your most devoted servant,

George Bloomfield.

P. S. The late Mr. Wm. Austin, of Sapiston, took the Author, when very young, and
kept him, from motives of charity.’

The consequences which arose from this application are too well known to be repeated;
yet there were circumstances attending the progress of the Poem through the press
which are not known, but might be made known with honour to all the parties concerned.

The first letter I received from Mr. Lofft was to me a cordial not to be described.
In others which immediately followed I found the ensuing remarks:

‘At the same time the example, as well as the Poem, may teach the rich, and the highly
born or educated, not unnaturally to urge harsh and overbearing lines of distinction;
but to be more attentive to the gifts bestowed by the common Father on mankind, than
to an overweening conceit of their own privileges and advantages.

Their privileges and advantages would amply gain in good will and security, what they
might thus sacrifice from the cold and degrading claims of unfeeling ostentation.’

In another letter I read:—

The printing was now going on, and that I knew little of its progress (which was the
case) I have only to blame myself. I seldom called to enquire after it. I knew it
to be in good hands. Yet, during the fifteen months which elapsed before its publication,
the latter part of which time was attended by very bad health, I felt much anxiety;
and, (having the Poem then perfect in my memory,) after a hard day’s work, with my
back to the fire, and in the stillness of the night, I have often repeated aloud the
whole, or greater part of the Poem, until my wife was fast asleep, before I could
find resolution to put out the candle. The reader who disdains such little anecdotes
had better lay down the book; for I shall proceed in my own way.

From the above date I found, however unfit to meet prosperity, and a total change
of company and connections, that such a change could not be avoided. I became known
to the literary, and esteemed by the good. Sir Charles Bunbury, and many worthy characters
in Suffolk, gave me the welcome of a friend and a countryman. At Troston, under the
hospitable roof of Mr. Lofft, I was every way at home. My London and country wellwishers
have increased, until to name them would wear the appearance of ostentation, which
I much wish to avoid. And yet, while I boast in my possession the hand-writing of
the late Mr. Fox, I hardly know whether I am justified in altogether refraining. Let
not then any of them imagine that I have failed to cherish a grateful regard for the
zeal and endeavours of them all. I write with an overflowing heart: and could I feel
otherwise than I do, should unquestionably be unworthy of their attention.

Very trifling emendations have taken place in this Stereotype Edition. One, however,
may seem worthy of notice. In the description of the Mad Girl I had originally called
her Poll; but on my visit to Suffolk, after an absence of twelve years (which gave rise to
the Lines that follow this Preface), I learned that her name was Ann. I conversed with her, and found her greatly recovered, and sensible of her past
calamity. Instead of giving this information in a note, I have, partly from choice,
and partly from the nature of the printing, inserted Ann for Poll in the text.

I have the gratification to know that this Poem has given pleasure to thousands, and to make a contrary pretence would
be something worse than affectation. Upon this conviction I rest my claim (with all
due submission to the learned) of exhorting all persons of acknowledged taste and
ability, when they receive a poor man’s production, to read it with candour, and to
judge of it with truth: so that, if it be found entitled to a share of public attention,
the unlettered and the unfriended may not lose their chance of communicating instruction
or entertainment to the world.

ROBERT BLOOMFIELD.

City Road, June, 1808.

SUPPLEMENT.

On revisiting the place of my Nativity, May 1800.

Robert Bloomfield.

[The Preface in Poems [Stereotype] concludes with the ‘Statement of Verbal Variations’ given above.]