John Clare 1793 – 1864
Our July walk had to be in Helpston, the birthplace of the Northamptonshire peasant poet John Clare. We celebrated his life and works close to the anniversary of his birth – 13th July 1793 – in the village where he grew up and lived for much of his early life before madness consigned him to a benevolent regime in an asylum in Northampton.
A number of our members are ardent fans of his poetry so we shared our knowledge and anecdotes beside his grave in the churchyard of St Botolph’s church in Helpston.
We glimpsed the Golden Drop pub, the Nook cottages, C14th Butter Cross and Bluebell Inn where Clare worked in 1806 and The Old Vicarage.
Strolling Helpston
Drizzle did drive us sooner to the John Clare cottage café than planned, but no-one complained and we were treated to excellent coffee and home-made cakes. Whilst some left directly to other commitments and appointments the “remainers” completed the town trail taking in the following places listed on the walking map.
We got talking to a volunteer in the café who was curious to know what group we belonged to and in return she told us all about “MEET UP”. It was so special to share another experience inspired by John Clare. Thanks to Mavis and Peter Leverington for all their dedication and advice.
Some poetry.
“I Am” was written towards the end of Clare’s life in 1844 or 5. It was composed while he was confined to the Northampton General Lunatic Asylum. The poem was first published on January 1, 1848, in the Bedford Times.
I will finish with Jilly’s favourite children’s poem by John Clare written in 1849 when he was aged 59 years. It is called “Little Trotty Wagtail” and demonstrates such a contrast to “I Am”. Always subject to academic debate, Clare often used dialect and made up words to describe the world around him.
Little Trotty Wagtail (1849)
Little trotty wagtail, he went in the rain,
And tittering, tottering sideways he ne’er got straight again.
He stooped to get a worm, and looked up to catch a fly,
And then he flew away ere his feathers they were dry.
Little trotty wagtail, he waddled in the mud,
And left his little footmarks, trample where he would.
He waddled in the water-pudge, and waggle went his tail,
And chirrupt up his wings to dry upon the garden rail.
Little trotty wagtail, you nimble all about,
And in the dimpling water-pudge you waddle in and out;
Your home is nigh at hand, and in the warm pigsty,
So, little Master Wagtail, I’ll bid you a goodbye.
I hope our walking tails have inspired you to visit John Clare country in Helpston and read his nature poetry about which he was passionate. It is as relevant today as it was 250 years ago. JB.
Find out more:
BBC Countryfile magazine article (contains advertisements) : https://www.countryfile.com/people/historical-figures/poet-john-clare
We were so fortunate to have Peter Leverington’s map created some years ago for the Langdyke Trust https://langdyke.org.uk/
John Clare cottage café https://www.clarecottage.org/