{"id":50694,"date":"2013-04-16T15:18:17","date_gmt":"2013-04-16T19:18:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=50694"},"modified":"2013-04-16T15:46:50","modified_gmt":"2013-04-16T19:46:50","slug":"to-these-waters-meeting-wordsworths-leech-gatherer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/04\/16\/to-these-waters-meeting-wordsworths-leech-gatherer\/","title":{"rendered":"William Wordsworth\u2019s \u201cResolution and Independence\u201d"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/04\/leeches.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-50698\" alt=\"leeches\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/04\/leeches-198x300.jpg\" width=\"198\" height=\"300\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/04\/leeches-198x300.jpg 198w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/04\/leeches.jpg 526w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a>It was Eid al-Adha, the Feast of Sacrifice, so the bazaars in Istanbul were closed. We walked along the silent streets, wondering how thirteen million city dwellers could go so quiet and how we were going to spend our leftover lira before our departing flights in a few hours. Toward the Galata Bridge, we found a commotion of doves and pigeons by the Yeni Cami.<\/p>\n<p>Birds of a feather do flock together: leading from Emin\u00f6n\u00fc Square was an avenue lined with animal stalls. A menagerie of birds\u2014cranes, ducks, fancy chickens, peacocks, and pheasants\u2014called from their cages. In other wire cages, puppies, kittens, and rabbits formed furry masses. Another set of aquatic stalls had turtle hatchlings and goldfish. Bags full of seed, dry food, and wood shavings spilled into one another\u2014supplies for every sort of pet.<\/p>\n<p>We stopped before a collection of three-gallon drums. \u201cProf. Dr. S\u00fcl\u00fck,\u201d read placards at the top of all the drums, each of which was two-thirds full of cerulean-tinted water. A man stood beside the drums, resting his weight on one of them, shifting his baseball cap with the other hand, gray hair falling from underneath.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI saw a Man before me unawares: \/ The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.\u201d This was not the Lake District, but in this busy market I thought of William Wordsworth\u2019s \u201cResolution and Independence.\u201d Facing these tiny barrels of leeches and their keeper, all I could think of was the Romantic\u2019s leech gatherer.<\/p>\n<p>Several hundred leeches writhed. They gathered like a black belt round the middle of each container, near the water\u2019s surface. A few ambitious leeches left the waistband, inching their way toward the lid; a few fell from those curving heights to the bottom of the barrels. <!--more--><\/p>\n<p>\u201cProf. Dr. S\u00fcl\u00fck,\u201d it said at the top of every placard, and beneath those bold headings were lists of ailments of almost every sort: from migraines to fungus, eczema, rheumatism, and even cellulite. The leeches, then, were medicinal.<\/p>\n<p><i>Hirudo medicinalis <\/i>were in high demand in Ancient Greece, when bloodletting and the balancing of bodily humors were medical mainstays. Even Hippocrates and Galen wrote approvingly of leeches, which can remove ten times their own weight in blood at every feeding. Although leeches fell from medical favor in the eighteenth century, their occasional use continues, and has even made a comeback in the last few decades. The number of leech sellers on this single street in Istanbul suggests that the market for these wriggling worms is booming.<\/p>\n<p>The bountiful leech markets in Istanbul shocked me; in Wordsworth\u2019s poem, the leech gatherer is already an anachronistic figure. He barely emerges from the landscape: like a rock, his \u201cbody was bent double, feet and head \/ Coming together in life\u2019s pilgrimage.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The core of \u201cResolution and Independence\u201d is a conversation between the poet and the leech gatherer, its frame only bringing the man into view and then articulating his effect on the aimless, despondent poet.<\/p>\n<p>The poet speaks first, announcing: \u201cThis morning gives us promise of a glorious day.\u201d The leech gatherer\u2019s \u201ccourteous speech\u201d is not recorded, only reported, though the poet\u2019s continued inquisition comes as direct speech: \u201cWhat occupation do you there pursue? \/ This is a lonesome place for one like you.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHis words came feebly,\u201d the poet claims, and so to spare readers their feebleness, he continues paraphrasing rather than recording the man\u2019s speech: \u201cTo these waters he had come \/ To gather Leeches, being old and poor: \/ Employment hazardous and wearisome!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>As if the answer had not already been given, or the nature of the man\u2019s profession was not evident, the poet persists, asking again: \u201cHow is it that you live, and what is it you do?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Not fatigued and ever willing to engage the young poet, the leech gatherer \u201cwith a smile did then his words repeat; \/ And said that, gathering Leeches, far and wide \/ He travelled.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The poet, whose sad wanderings are saddened by doubts over his profession, is transfixed by the leech gatherer. Confusion and then pity influence his questions and his appraisal of the man. \u201cThe Old-man\u2019s shape, and speech, all troubled me,\u201d the poet confesses. \u201cIn my mind\u2019s eye I seemed to see him pace \/ About the weary moors continually \/ Wandering about alone and silently.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Yet whatever pity the poet has mustered is conflated by the man\u2019s \u201cstately speech.\u201d The poem\u2019s titular \u201cResolution and Independence\u201d are created by the poet\u2019s encounter with the leech gatherer, whose own solitude and resolve inspire him.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI could have laughed myself to scorn to find \/ In that decrepit Man so firm a mind,\u201d the poet says, then in a prayer of determination: \u201c\u2018God,\u2019 said I, \u2018be my help and stay secure; \/I\u2019ll think of the Leech-gatherer on the lonely moor!\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n<p>It was weeks before I went looking for Wordsworth\u2019s poem, its interlocutors chattering misremembered speech in my mind until I tracked down the actual text.<\/p>\n<p><center>*<\/center><\/p>\n<p>I feel chastened by the poem when finally I found it. Wordsworth not only observed his leech gatherer, but conversed with him; my leech gatherer had wandered away before I could ask him about his occupation or the ways of the world. Rightfully discerning that I had no intention of buying any of his bloodsuckers, he walked off to another stall to make conversation with another leech gatherer.<\/p>\n<p>It\u2019s hard when staring at parasites not to feel like one yourself, whether you are looking at leeches or reading about leech gatherers. But another read of Wordsworth\u2019s masterpiece reassured me that there\u2019s no shame in a borrowed epiphany. Even Wordsworth was borrowing from the leech gatherer, making \u201cResolution and Independence\u201d from his own version of the man\u2019s speech, not the speech itself.<\/p>\n<p>There is, as the poet says, always the \u201cmind\u2019s eye,\u201d and there I not only see my ball-capped leech gatherer and his leeches, but hear him speaking, sometimes even the speech of Wordsworth\u2019s poem. There might even be something less abusive in that, the secondhand appropriation of a person rather than a fresh act of appropriating.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>It was Eid al-Adha, the Feast of Sacrifice, so the bazaars in Istanbul were closed. We walked along the silent streets, wondering how thirteen million city dwellers could go so quiet and how we were going to spend our leftover lira before our departing flights in a few hours. Toward the Galata Bridge, we found [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":383,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[4715],"tags":[10646,2861,10647,8476,165,7880],"class_list":["post-50694","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-the-poem-stuck-in-my-head","tag-eid-al-adha","tag-history","tag-leeches","tag-medicine","tag-poetry","tag-william-wordsworth"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v25.4 (Yoast SEO v25.4) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Paris Review \u2013 William Wordsworth\u2019s \u201cResolution and Independence\u201d, Casey N. Cep<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Casey N. 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