W. H. Davies - A Poet of Wales and a Tramp

by Read Listen Learn

W. H. Davies’ most-read work these days is probably his memoir of the years 1893 to 1899, when he was living as a tramp in the States. It is called ‘Autobiography of a Super Tramp’. He managed to get this published, with the help of George Bernard Shaw, in 1908, and afterwards had a small income for the rest of his life as well as some fame as a poet, although he never became wealthy. He lived life always on the margins, even after he became friendly with some of the best-known authors of his time. His poetry, written in simple English, shows his independence, hatred of materialism and love of nature.

William Henry Davies was born in Newport in Wales in 1870 to working class parents. His father, an ironworker, died when he was three, leaving William, his mentally-challenged elder brother, a younger sister and his mother poverty-stricken. His mother quickly re-married, but his stepfather did not want the children around and so they were sent to live with his paternal grandparents. They were religious – especially his grandmother: she often mentioned the only famous member of the family, the wealthy and successful actor, Sir Henry Irving, as the one who had brought shame on the family for appearing on the stage. Acting was against the principles of the devout old lady.

William seems to have had little to do with his mother after she re-married and all decisions about his upbringing were left to his grandparents. But the lad can’t have turned out as they had hoped or planned, as he was arrested when he was thirteen for stealing women’s handbags with four other members of his gang. That was the end of his schooling. He worked for a while with iron, like his father. His grandmother then arranged for him to learn a trade, but he was never interested in work and often failed to turn up. William again and again begged his grandmother to give him the money for the voyage to the States, but, as often as he asked, she refused, till one day he just got up and left home.

William’s grandfather had died in 1885 while the teenager was sitting reading by his bed. He later wrote that he had missed the moment when the old man passed away, as he was reading a very exciting adventure story. He had already written his first poem, ‘Death’, when he was thirteen the year before.

William did casual work when he could get it and travelled across Britain, living rough, and spending as much of his time as he could in the countryside. He eventually got the money together to take a ship to America, but lived there much as he had in Britain. He heard though about the gold rush in the Canadian Klondike and, with another tramp, decided to take a train there. Of course, he could not pay for a ticket and so he tried to jump aboard when it had already started moving. He tripped and his right foot was crushed under the wheels. It had to be amputated just under the knee. Although W. H. Davies pretended to his friends that he was not too upset by the accident, he later wrote that all the wildness had gone out of him with the loss of his leg. It was at this time that he started writing more seriously in the hope of becoming a professional poet.

Back in England with a piece of wood where his right leg should have been, W. H. Davies once again lived rough. He stayed in a Salvation Army hostel – which he absolutely hated. He had to imagine poems in his head that he didn’t dare write because he was afraid of the reaction of others sharing the hostel with him, if they knew he was trying to become a poet. In the end, though, Davies did manage to print a few himself – on borrowed money – and went from door to door, trying to sell them. When he couldn’t interest even a single person in his work, he went back to the hostel and burnt everything he’d been saving for later publication.

Although those were desperate days for Davies, he at last managed to scrape enough money together from begging, stealing and doing bits of work here and there to pay for publication of a slim volume of poems. This was called ‘The Soul’s Destroyer’ and two hundred copies were printed. Davies got a copy of ‘Who’s Who’, a book of prominent people in Britain at the time, and sent the volume to two hundred of them, asking them to reply with the money for the book and postage. This bizarre means of publicising himself, however, worked. One of the recipients was a journalist who returned the money and asked to meet Davies. This led to other meetings and some financial support. It also meant he came to the notice of George Bernard Shaw, who, three years later, got his ‘Autobiography of a Super Tramp’ published.

Some of Davies’ poems were about the evils of wealth. Here is an example, entitled ‘Money’:

“When I had money, money,

O! I knew no joy till I went poor;

For many a false man as a friend

Came knocking all day at my door.

Then felt I like a child that holds

A trumpet that he must not blow

Because a man is dead; I dared

Not speak to let this false world know.

Much have I thought of life and seen

How poor men’s hearts are ever light;

And how their wives do hum like bees

About their work from morn till night.

So, when I hear these poor ones laugh,

And see the rich ones coldly frown —

Poor men, think I, need not go up

So much as rich men should come down.

When I had money, money, O!

My many friends proved all untrue;

But now I have no money, O!

My friends are real, though very few.”

Another poem that sums up Davies’ attitude to work is called ‘No Master’. It ends like this:

"If I cannot be free

To do such work as pleases me,

Near woodland pools and under trees,

You'll get no work at all, for I

Would rather live this life and die

A beggar or a thief, than be

A working slave with no days free.

But Davies was interested just as much in the beauty of nature as he was in the misery of materialism. He often contrasted the boredom of work with the beauty of sunlight, birds, fields. In ‘A Great Time’, he enjoys the simple but profound pleasures that life in the countryside can provide:

“Sweet Chance, that led my steps abroad,

Beyond the town, where wild flowers grow –

A rainbow and a cuckoo, Lord, How rich and great the times are now!

Know, all ye sheep

And cows, that keep

On staring that I stand so long

In grass that's wet from heavy rain -

A rainbow and a cuckoo's song

May never come together again;

May never come

This side of the tomb.”

Davies’ life began to change with the publication of his poems and especially of the autobiographical account of his memoirs. But, although he now attended dinner parties with leading literary figures and was even invited to Germany by D. H. Lawrence in 1913 for a holiday, he still had to count the pennies. For instance, the room he got in London in 1916 and made his home until 1921 had rats and mice and was next door to a very noisy Belgian prostitute. One can only imagine that he did not repay the generosity of his high society friends by inviting them to his place for a meal.

In 1923, Davies, now in his early fifties, married a twenty-three year old, whom he’d met at a bus stop. She was pregnant and single (although she had a miscarriage before the wedding). They remained together for the rest of Davies’ life, living in small cottages in the countryside. Davies’ health was poor: he suffered badly from rheumatism. In the final months of his life he was not well enough to travel to London to visit friends, but, at least, they could now come to him, safe from rats and sex workers.

In his later years, Davies was awarded an honorary doctorate by the University of Wales and saw his poetry go through many editions. He died in 1941.