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MEMORIALS
OF
MRS. HEMANS
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
OF
HER LITERARY CHARACTER
FROM HER
PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE.
BY
HENRY F. CHORLEY.
IN TWO VOLUMES,
VOL. II.
LONDON
SAUNDERS AND OTLEY, CONDUIT STREET.
1836.
LONDON:
ICOTSON AND PALMER, PRINTERS, SAVOY STREET, STRAND.
CONTENTS.
VOL. II.
CHAPTER I.
Character of the poems written by Mrs. Hemans
whilst residing at Wavertree — Peninsular Melodies
— Familiar correspondence — Lord Colling wood's
Life and Letters— "The Song of Night"— Moore's
" Lines on certain Memoirs of Lord Byron" — " Let-
ter with a symphony" — Spanish cathedrals— Note
from Seacombe— Lord Byron's hair— Remarks and
illustrations - - Page 1
CHAPTER II.
Mrs. Hemans' visit to Scotland — Her funereal poetry —
Her reception in Edinburgh — Anecdotes— Letters
from Chiefswood— The Rhymour's Glen — Walk
IV CONTENTS.
with Sir Walter Scott— The Rhine Song—" Yarrow
visited" — Lines to Rizzio's picture— Letter from
Abbotsford— Visit of the Due de Chartres — Anec-
dotes — Letters from Edinburgh — Moonlight walk —
Scotch pulpit eloquence — Visit to Mackenzie —
Remarkable group of sculpture— Letter from Mil-
burn Tower - - _ 25
CHAPTER III.
The " Songs of the Affections" — Extract from familiar
correspondence — Haunted Hamlet near Melrose —
" Rhine Song"— Lewis's " Tales of Terror" —Dr.
Channing — Ballad on the Death of Aliatar— New
Year's wishes— " The Fall of Nineveh" — " A Spirit's
Return" — Analysis of character — The Rev. Edward
Irving— De Lamartine's Poems — Mr. Roscoe— Per-
golesi's w Stabat Mater" — New songs by Moore and
Bishop — Manzoni's "Cinque Maggio" — Godwin's
u Cloudesley'' — Projected journey to the Lakes —
Dramatic Scene— New volume of Poems - 69
CHAPTER IV.
Mr. Wordsworth's poetry — Mrs. Hemans' visit to the
Lakes — Her letters from Rydal Mount — Passage
CONTENTS.
from Haco— Genius compatible with domestic hap-
piness — State of music among- the Lakes — Mr.
Wordsworth's reading aloud — Anecdote — Dove Nest
—Accident on horseback— Letters from Dove Nest
— Winandermere— The St. Cecilia— Whimsical letter
— Letter of counsel — Commissions — Anecdote of a
bridal gift — Readings of Schiller— Second journey
into Scotland— M. Jeffrey — Six Mrs. Hemans —
Change of residence - 106
CHAPTER V.
Fragments of correspondence — Journey through An-
glesey — Aurora Borealis — Light-house — Passage
from Mr. Bowdler's writings — Monument by Thor-
waldsen— Personification in art and poetry — Goethe
—Rogers ' " Italy "—Titian's portraits— Longevity
of artists — Lessons in music — Evening spent with a
celebrated linguist — Mr. Roscoe — Mr. Hare's pam-
phlets—Gibbon's " Sappho"— Character of Mrs. He-
mans in the " Athenaeum " — Life and Letters of
Weber— The repose of old portraits— Young's Ham-
let — The Cyclops' proved light-houses — Howitt's
"Book of the Seasons" — Poetical tributes — Wan-
dering female singer — Wearisome dinner-party —
Mrs. Hemans' pleasure in composing melodies —
"Prayer at Sea after Battle"— Preparations for her
VI CONTENTS.
departure from England — Shelley's poems— Vulgar
patronage — Collection of drawings — "Tancredi" —
Discontinuance of pensions from the Royal Society
of Literature - - 152
CHAPTER VI.
Mrs. Hemans' departure from England — Letters from
Kilkenny — Catholic and Protestant animosity— Pic-
tures at Lord Ormonde's— Visit to Woodstock —
Parallel between the poems of Mrs. Hemans and
Mrs. Tighe — Raphael's great Madonna — Kilfane—
Water-birds — Deserted churchyard — Visit to a Con-
vent—Passage in Symmons' Translation of the
Agamemnon — Kilkenny — Irish politics — " The
Death-song of Alcestis " — Dublin Musical Festival
— Paganini — <e Napoleon's Midnight Review" — Fur-
ther Anecdotes of Paganini — Letters from the county
Wicklow — Glendalough — The Devil's Glen — Wood
scenery— Letters from Dublin— Miniature by Robert-
son—Society of Dublin — " The Swan and the Sky-
lark " — Difficulty in procuring new books - 203
CHAPTER VII.
The last days of Poets — Their duties— Mrs. Hemans'
favourite books— Extracts from familiar correspon-
dence — Scriptural studies— Miss Kemble's tragedy
CONTENTS. Vll
—Thoughts during sickness— Extracts from " Scenes
and Hymns of Life" — " Norwegian Battle Song " —
Cholera in Dublin — Mr. Carlyle's criticism — Irish
society in town and country — " The Summer's Call "
—New Year's Eve — Triumphal entry of O'Connell —
Repeated attacks of illness — Fiesco — Second part of
Faust — Translation of the first part — Visit from her
sister — Excursion into Wicklow — New volumes of
poems — Sacred poetry — Coleridge — "Scenes and
Hymns of Life " — Letters to a friend entering lite-
rary life— Stories of Art— Philip van Artavelde —
Death of Mrs. Fletcher — Visit to a mountain tarn-
Projected visit to England — Anticipations of death —
"A poet's Dying Hymn"— Jebb and Knox's corres-
pondence—Silvio Pellico's M Prigione" — Coleridge's
letter to his godchild— Retszch's outlines to Schiller's
" Song of the Bell" - - 254
CHAPTER VIII.
Increase of illness— Mrs. Hemans' calmness and resig-
nation — " Thoughts during Sickness" — " Despon-
dency and Aspiration" — Projected poem — "Antique
Greek lament"— Removal to Redesdale— Last ex-
tract from her correspondence — Appointment of her
Vlll CONTENTS.
son— Her cheerfulness — Messages to her friends —
Her love of books— Further notices of her last hours
— Conclusion . . . 337
MEMORIALS
MRS. HEMANS,
CHAPTER I.
Character of the poems written by Mrs. Hemans
whilst residing at Wavertree — Peninsular Melodies
— Familiar correspondence — Lord Collingwood's
Life and Letters— " The Song of Night"— Moore's
" Lines on certain Memoirs of Lord Byron" — " Let-
ter with a symphony" — Spanish cathedrals— Note
from Seacombe— Lord Byron's hair— Remarks and
illustrations.
Enough has been already said and shown,
to give a tolerably complete picture of the na-
vol. n. b
2 MEMORIALS OF
ture and manner of Mrs. Hemans' life, during
the three years (far from her happiest) spent by
her at Wavertree. She had only just reached
the fame, which, from its novelty no less than
its height, was sure to expose her to curiosity
and adulation. She had never before been sub-
jected, alone, to the cares and vexations of do-
mestic life, the presence of which, by contrast,
increased her eagerness to escape to those ex-
treme regions of fancy and speculation which
nothing earthly or practical was permitted to
enter. She had never till then been called
upon to bear her part in general society ; and
while she felt its requisitions irksome, and its
enjoyments barren of compensation for time
sacrificed and self-restraint enjoined, her desires
of home-companionship were stayed, if not
satisfied, by the acquisition of a few attached
friends to whom she could " show all that was
in her heart." Among these, Mrs. Lawrence,
of Wavertree Hall, and Miss Park, also of
Wavertree, may, without any indelicacy, be par-
MRS. HEMANS. 3
ticularized : of the "brightly-associated hours"
she passed with the former, herself an elegant
Spanish and Italian scholar, a record remains in
the dedication to one of her last volumes — the
^ National Lyrics and Songs for Music :" — the
latter lady, too, was a zealous and disinterested
counsellor and comforter : it was chiefly at her
instance that Mrs. Hemans made trial of the
neighbourhood of Liverpool as a residence.
The state of Mrs. Hemans' mind — as yet
struggling without the threshold of its last and
greatest change — is, I think, to be traced in the
poems written by her during these three years,
if I am not reasoning from memory rather than
from inference. They are more exclusively and
sadly individual (with the exception, perhaps,
of the " Songs for Music") than any of her former
works : they treat more undividedly of the
deeper workings of a sensitive and tender, and
yet high-toned spirit: they exhibit, to the ut-
most, its unquiet desire to penetrate the mys-
teries which on this side of the grave are not
b 2
4 MEMORIALS OF
penetrable : they point unceasingly to the
wounds which the world inflicts, rarely to those
which it heals. So aware were her friends of this
disposition of her mind, prevailing almost to
unhealthiness, that they urged her to throw her-
self upon some work, in the progress of which
she should be obliged to forget, rather than em-
body,' thoughts of so melancholy a hue. They
urged her in vain : she would sometimes, it is
true, playfully talk of writing a fairy masque : —
what a charming and fanciful poem would this
have been ! — or she would linger for a moment
on some historical aera or character, as if about
to concentrate her powers round it — and again,
and yet again, return to her own heart, not
merely for her subjects, but also their colouring.
One legend which she took up, (I believe from
the German,) she was compelled to abandon in
consequence of the injurious influence its con-
templation exercised upon a frame so fragile as
hers. This was the tale of an enchantress, who,
to win and secure the love of a mortal, sacrifices
MRS. HEMANS. 5
one of her supernatural gifts of power after an-
other: — her wand first, then her magic girdle,
then the talismanic diadem she wears, — last of
all, her immortality. She is repaid by satiety —
neglect — desertion.
During these three years, in proportion as
Mrs. Hemans' love for, and understanding of,
music increased, she indulged herself in the fas-
cinating occupation of song-writing. Among
many other sets of songs,* — some of which were
set to music by her sister, the rest by different
friends, — the " Peninsular Melodies" should be
mentioned. The work failed, because many of
the airs selected were so thoroughly anvocal as
to render the adaptation of characteristic words
impossible : some of the Zorzicos (an old Moor-
ish melody) are as rapid and as un tameable as
the wildest bag-pipe tunes. The ease with
which she wrote her songs amounted almost to
the fluency of improvvisation. I remember being
* Further allusion to these will be found in a sub-
sequent series of letters.
6 MEMORIALS OT
present when some words were returned to her,
as being unsuitable for the particular melody to
which she wished them adapted. She sat down,
and in a few moments, by the insertion of as many
lines as the original had at first contained, gave
the verses an entirely different and very peculiar
rhythm — and at once changed and completed
the song without any verbiage being apparent in
its language, or dislocation in its structure.
I may now proceed with the extracts from
her familiar correspondence. The latest among
them, it will be seen, refer to the journey into
Scotland undertaken by her in the summer of
the year 1829.
" My dear Sir,
" Having to send a messenger into the town,
I return you, with many thanks, the tale by
* our esteemed friend,' William Howitt, which
perhaps you may want. I think it possesses a
good deal of originality, and I have read it with
much interest. I could almost imagine he had
MRS. HEMANS. 7
been pourtraying some features of my early life
in his heroine's, which could scarcely have been
more unfettered. Is that strong passion for
intellectual beauty a happy or a mournful gift,
when so out of harmony with the rest of our
earthly lot ? Sometimes I think of it in sadness,
but oftener it seems to me as a sort of rainbow,
made up of light and tears, yet still the pledge
of happiness to come. How very beautiful are
those letters of Lord Collingwood's to his
family ! — more touchingly so, I think, than even
Reginald Heber's ; for there is something in all
those thoughts of hearth and home, and of the
garden trees, and of the 'old summer-seat,'
which, breathing as they do from amidst the far
and lonely seas, affect us like an exile's song
of his father-land. The letters to his wife
brought strongly to my mind the poor Queen
of Prussia's joyous exclamations in the midst of
her last sufferings:— * Oh ! how blessed is she
who receives a letter such as this !' I am ex-
ceedingly obliged to you for making this delight-
8 MEMORIALS OF
ful book known to me. To be sure, his lordship
does seem a little c notional,' as the Americans
call it, sometimes, on the subject of female edu-
cation — now does he not? — geometry and the
square-root — ' O words of fear t " . . . .
" My dear Sir,
" You will scarcely yet, I suppose, be collect-
ing your materials for the ; but as the
enclosed piece has been some time destined for
you, I may as well send it now. It was sug-
gested by a relievo of Thorwaldsen's, which
represents Night hushing a babe upon her bo-
som.* I received a most pathetic appeal, a
* The poem in question is the " Song of Night,"
afterwards published among the " Songs of the Affec-
tions." It is full of lofty imagery and striking con-
trast ; and may perhaps be singled out as one of the
best lyrics written by Mrs. Hemans about this time.
MRS. HEMANS.
short time since, from , in behalf of a
young lady, a friend of his, who had taken it
A few stanzas may be cited in corroboration of this
judgment.
I come with every star;
Making thy streams, that on their noon-day track,
Give but the moss, the reed, the lily back,
Mirrors of worlds afar.
I come with mightier things !
Who calls me silent? I have many tones —
The dark skies thrill with low mysterious moans
Borne on my sweeping wings.
* # # *
I come with all my train :
Who calls me lonely ? — Hosts around me tread,
The intensely bright, the beautiful, the dead, —
Phantoms of heart and brain !
# # * *
B 5
10 MEMORIALS OF
into her head to want some of my writing. I
must transcribe some of his rhetoric for your
admiration, and I am sure you will agree with
me that it is enough 4 to soften rocks i 1 — * Can
you, dear madam, refuse this young, engaging
girl, the daughter of , the pupil of ,
the friend of , the innocent gratification
she thus timidly solicits ?' — No, to be sure I
could not ; one must have had a heart of stone
to resist such moving words, so away went the
autograph."
I, that with soft control,
Shut the dim violet, hush the woodland song,
I am the avenging one ! the arm'd— -the strong,
The searcher of the soul !
I that shower dewy light,
Through slumbering leaves, bring storms ! — the tem-
pest-birth
Of memory, thought, remorse:— Be holy, Earth!
I am the solemn Night !
MRS. HEMANS. 11
" Jan. 1829.
... "I can well imagine the weariness and
disgust with which a mind of intellectual tastes
must be oppressed by the long days of i work-
day world' cares, so utterly at variance with
such tastes ; and yet, perhaps, the opposite ex-
treme is scarcely more to be desired. Mine, I
believe, has been too much a life of thought and
feeling for health and peace : I can certainly
quit this little world of my own for active
duties ; for however I may at times playfully
advocate the cause of weakness, there is no one
who has, with deeper need for strength, a fuller
conviction of its necessity; but it is often by
an effort, and a painful one, that I am enabled
to obtain it." ....
" My dear
" I ought to have acknowledged both your
kind notes ere now, and thanked you for the
12 MEMORIALS OF
copy of Moore's lines,* which are certainly
more witty than elegant— perhaps the very
coarseness from which one cannot help rather
shrinking, renders the satire the more appro-
priate to its object. Do you remember that the
other evening (which I assure you I enjoyed as
much as you could have done) we were speak-
ing of the pleasures of memory ; and I thought
they resembled those shadowy images of flowers
which the alchymists of old believed they had
the power of raising from the ashes of the plant ?
I send you a few lines f which that conversation
suggested, and which, in consequence, will per-
haps interest you. I do hope I shall be able to
* The satirical verses upon Leigh Hunt's Personal
Reminiscences of Lord Byron.
t This was a lyric which appeared in one of the
Annuals, beginning,
'Twas a dream of olden days
That art, with some strange power,
A visionary form could raise
From the ashes of a flower.
MRS. HEMANS. 13
come to you on Saturday evening
But, generally speaking, I cannot tell you how
painful going out is to me now; I know it is a
weakness which I must conquer, but I feel so
alone, so unprotected ; and this weary celebrity
makes such things, I believe, press the more
bitterly.
" I hardly know why I should * bestow my
tediousness' upon you in this manner, only that
I am just returned from a large party of
strangers, in which feeling myself more alone
than when alone, because there was no one who
interested me in the least, I grew especially
weary, duller than any pumpkin or 'fat weed'
whatsoever, and exceedingly inclined to rush
out of the room without any conge to host or
guest. From this rash act, however, some
sense of decorum restrained me, and so here I
am, making amends to myself by pouring out
my ennui upon your devoted head, which I will
now spare any further infliction, as it is grow-
ing late enough to carry one's disgusts qui-
14 MEMORIALS OF
etly to bed. Good night, therefore, and be-
lieve me
" Affectionately yours,
" F. H."
. . . " I must also thank you for the very
kind note which I received by little Henry : I
was much better when it arrived. . . My
complaint is indeed most pertinacious, if not
hopeless, as I am assured, and indeed convinced,
that it is caused by excitements, from which,
unless I could win * the wings of a dove and flee
away' into a calmer atmosphere, there is no
escape. I have therefore only to meet it as
cheerily as I may — and there is a buoyant spirit
yet unconquered, though often sorely shaken,
within me.
" I trust I shall have the pleasure of seeing
you here on the evening of the day which I
have begged your sister to pass with me. Do
you know that I have really succeeded in giving
MRS. HEMANS. 15
something of beauty to the suburban court of
my dwelling by the aid of the laburnums and
rhododendrons, which I planted myself, and
which I want you to see while they are so
amiably flowering. But how soon the feeling
of home throws light and loveliness over the
most uninteresting spot ! I am beginning to
draw that feeling around me here, and conse-
quently to be happier.
" Did you ever see a letter with a symphony ?
I call the enclosed, one of that class. After
many and long wanderings, it reached me this
morning with that awful Titanic poem the ,
the sight of which really renews all the terrors
of ' Charlemagne.'
" May I request you to present to your
sister, with all possible oracular solemnity,
the accompanying inestimable collection of
aphorisms, particularly recommending to her
notice 'the short miscellaneous sentences al-
phabetically digested, and easily to be retained
in the memories of youth,"* with which the work
16 MEMORIALS OF
closes. I shall expect her to have learned per-
fectly the two first pages for repetition the next
time we visit the c happy valley/ tells
me, that you wished for the lines to the Rhine
song, a copy of which I have now the pleasure
of sending you.*' In explanation of their very
pugnacious character, I must mention that they
were written at the request of my eldest bro-
ther, who wished them to commemorate the
battles of his young days.
" Ever truly yours,
« F. H."
" I thought there was something which I
wished to show you the other evening, but, as
usual, I did not remember it until you were
gone, and therefore send it now. It was Lock-
hart's description, in * Peter's Letters,' of ouv
cathedral, and also of the glorious Spanish
* The "English Soldier's Song of Memory," published
among the ft National Lyrics and Songs for Music."
MRS. HEMANS. 17
churches, which his language arrays in such
' religious light,' that I know you will enjoy the
passage with your whole heart. I also send my
copy of the Iphigenia, because I shall like to
know whether you are as much struck with all
that I have marked in it as I have been. Do
you remember all we were saying on the ob-
scurity of female suffering on such stormy days
of the lance and spear as the good Fray Agapida
describes so vividly ? Has not Goethe beauti-
fully developed the idea in the lines which I en-
close ? they occur in Iphigenia's supplication to
Thoas for her brother."
"Dear
" I really should give you a lecture, if I did
not know, from intimate conviction, how very
useless a thing wisdom is in this world. But I
wish you could keep down that feverish excite-
ment, as it is so hurtful even to intellectual
power, that I am convinced we have not more
18 MEMORIALS OF
than half command even of our imaginative
faculties whilst under its influence. I want you
to fix your heart and mind steadfastly on some
point of excellence, and to go on pursuing it
' soberly > as Lady Grace says, and satisfying
yourself with the deep consciousness that you
are making way. I know this may be, dear ,
because it was my own case, with feelings ex-
citable as you know mine are, and amidst all
things that could most try and distract them.
I send you a little collection of stories which I
made about two years ago, and amongst which
I think you might, perhaps, find some materiel
. . . I almost think I would recommend the
Kunstroman, to be deferred till you know
German.
" Ever yours very sincerely,
«F. H/'
MRS. HEMANS. 19
Dated from Seacombe.*
f " I hope you have not staid in for me this
morning, my dear , and I hope your brother
did not wait long, as he had kindly promised to
do, for my landing. I had fully intended to be
with you a little after twelve, but neither steam-
packet nor sail-boat was attainable : the whole
Seacombe fleet was gone to convoy some vessels
down the river. I crossed the water at last,
between one and two, with some thoughts of
proceeding to street; but the pier was
crowded with shaggy Orson-looking men, and I,
having only little Charles with me, really had
not resolution to effect a landing. I must return
home on Saturday, having much to arrange
before my flight to Scotland, and I now write
to ask if you could come over here to-morrow
should the weather be fine, and pass the day
with me ? There really are some pretty dells
and bournes about here, though you would not
* A suburban bathing-place on the Cheshire side of
the Mersey.
20 MEMORIALS OF
imagine it, and I should very much enjoy a
quiet walk with you, therefore if you can come,
do let it be earlier than the last time. There
will be an outpouring of spirit of Pumpkinism
upon me the moment I get back, and I shall
not have half the pleasure in seeing you there
amidst the interruptions we generally have ; it
is quite delightful to know that a river broad
and deep is flowing between one's-self and the
foe Will you give the enclosed to
with my kind remembrance ? tell him he
must not feel any J compunctious visitings '
on receiving it, because I have reserved quite
as much as I shall want, for a brooch in which I
mean to wear it; I do not know any one
who can value it more than he will, and I have
no sort of pleasure in keeping a relic all to
myself.
" Were you not astonished to hear of the
sudden spirit of enterprise which took posses-
sion of me when I determined to visit Chiefs-
wood ? I really begin to feel rather Mimosa-like
MRS. HEMANS. 21
when I contemplate the desperate undertaking
a little more closely. How I do wish you were
going with me !"
The relic in question was a small lock of
Lord Byron's hair ; the brooch which contained
the portion reserved for herself was one of her
favourite ornaments till the Memoirs of the
poet appeared. An illustrative trait or two
which have reference to these may be here
introduced, though chronologically out of place.
Some idea of the extraordinary power and
clearness of her memory may be conveyed by
the fact, that, after having heard those beautiful
stanzas addressed to his sister by Lord Byron —
which afterwards appeared in print — read aloud
twice in manuscript, she repeated them to us,
and even wrote them down with a surprising
accuracy. On two lines, I recollect, she dwelt
with particular emphasis, —
22 MEMORIALS OF
" There are yet two things in my destiny,
A world to roam o'er, and a home with thee."
Her anxiety to see the memoirs was extreme, —
her disappointment at the extracts which ap-
peared in the periodicals so great as to pre-
vent her reading the work when published.
" The book itself,"" says she, in one of her notes,
" I do not mean to read ; I feel as if it would
be like entering a tavern, and I shall not cross
the threshold." She found the poet whom she
had long admired at a distance invested with
a Mephistopheles-like character which pained
and startled her ; for the unworldly and imagi-
native life she had led, rendered her slow to
admit and unwilling to tolerate the strange
mixture of cruel mockery and better feeling,
which breathe through so many of his letters ;
and the details of his continental wanderings
shocked her fastidious sense as exceeding the
widest limits within which one so passionate and
so disdainful of law and usage might err and be
forgiven. From this time forth she never wore
MRS. HEMANS. 23
the relic ; indeed, her shrinking from any thing
like coarseness of thought, or feeling, or lan-
guage, (which will be traced in the following
note,) may by some be thought to trench upon
affectation, whereas it was only the necessary con-
sequence of her exclusive and unchecked devo-
tion to the Beautiful. If any passage in one of
her most favourite writers offended her delicacy,
the leaf was torn out without remorse ; and every
one familiar with her little library will have been
stopped by many a pause and chasm, of which
this is the explanation.
* "My dear ,
" Upon looking over the dramatic specimens
which I had promised to send you, I was dis-
tressed to find the titles of some of the plays so
very coarse, though the scenes have been care-
fully chosen, that I really did not like to for-
ward you the book. If, however, you do not
take alarm at 'the word of fear,' Lectures, I
think you will find in the accompanying volume
24 MEMORIALS OF
of Hazlitt's a great deal that is interesting, an
many selections from those olden poets whic
will give you an idea of their force and sweei
ness ' drawn from that well of English unde
filed:"
MRS. HEMANS. 25
CHAPTER II.
Mrs. Hemans' visit to Scotland — Her funereal poetry —
Her reception in Edinburgh — Anecdotes — Letters
from Chiefswood — The Rhymour's Glen — Walk
with Sir Walter Scott— The Rhine Song—" Yarrow
visited" — Lines to Rizzio's picture — Letter from
Abbotsford— Visit of the Due de Chartres — Anec-
dotes—Letters from Edinburgh — Moonlight walk —
Scotch pulpit eloquence — Visit to Mackenzie —
Remarkable group of sculpture — Letter from Mil-
burn Tower.
It was early in the summer of 1829, that Mrs.
Hemans, urged by numerous invitations, visited
Scotland, accompanied by her two youngest
sons. This was the first of the only two periods,
during which she was received and distinguished
VOL. II. c
26 MEMORIALS OF
as a guest by those, personally strangers to
her, whom the interest inspired by her works
had made her friends. Mrs. Hemans* name,
indeed, was singularly popular in Scotland;
she had written some of her best poems for its
principal literary periodical, Blackwood's Maga-
zine ; she was already regarded as a friend in
more than one noble house, from having been
summoned in times of affliction to perform those
melancholy, but soothing offices for the dead,
which survivors could only entrust to one as
genuine in feeling as she was delicate in ex-
pression.*
■• Mrs. Hemans' funereal poems are among her most
impressive works : the music of her verse, through
which an under-current of sadness may always be
traced, was never more happily employed than in
lamenting the beloved and early called, or in bidding ,
" Hope to the world to look beyond the tombs."
1 need only mention a few lyrics, " The Farewell to
the Dead," (in the Lays of Many Lands ;) " The
MRS. HEMANS. 27
The events and pleasures of this Scottish
journey will be found pleasantly described in
the following letters, which were written under
the immediate impulse of the moment, and in
the artlessness of perfect confidence. An
Exile's Dirge," (in the Songs of the Affections ;) " The
Burial of an Emigrant's Child in the Forest/' (in the
" Scenes and Hymns of Life;") and. the "Burial in
the Desert," a noble poem, published among her
poetical remains. The introduction of the two follow-
ing stanzas of a more concise and monumental cha,
racter, though they have already appeared in print,
will not, I am sure, be objected to, as illustrating the
above remark.
INSCRIPTION FOR A TOMB.
Earth ! guard what here we lay in holiest trust ;
That which hath left our home a darkened place.
Wanting the form, the smile now veiled with dust,
The light departed with our loveliest face!
Yet from thy bonds our sorrow's hope is free,
We have but lent our beautiful to thee !
c2
28 MEMORIALS OF
anecdote or two may be added to bear out tbe
occasional references to the honours and humours
of lionism which they contain. Mrs. Hemans
had scarcely arrived in Edinburgh, when her
name being recognised at her hotel, a plentiful
bouquet of flowers was brought into her room,
nor could any welcome have been devised half
so acceptable as this to one who used gaily to call
one of the long graceful branches of the
Convallaria (Solomon's seal) " her sceptre," and
whose passion for flowers (the word is not too
strong) increased with every year of her life.*
But thou, O Heaven ! keep, keep what thou hast taken,
And with our treasure keep our hearts on high !
The spirit weak, and yet by pain unshaken,
The faith, the love, the lofty constancy.
Guide us where these are with our sister flown,
They were of thee, and thou hast claimed thine own !
* ** I really think that pure passion for flowers is
the only one which long sickness leaves untouched
MRS. HEMANS. 29
She would tell too, with infinite humour, how
she had been abruptly accosted in the castle
garden by an unknown lady, who approached
her " under the assurance of an internal sym-
pathy that she must be Mrs. Hemans." Ano-
ther, whose own literary reputation was not
inconsiderable, when introduced to her, fanci-
fully asked, " whether a bat might be allowed
to appear in the presence of a nightingale."
An anecdote, too, has appeared in one of the
Edinburgh Journals, which is worth recording.
After a visit paid by Mrs. Hemans to the sanctum
of a courtly bibliopole of the modern Athens,
he was asked by some friend whether he had
with its chilling influences. Often during this weary
illness of mine have I looked upon new books with
perfect apathy, when, if a friend has sent me a few
flowers, my heart has leaped up to their dreamy hues
and odours with a sudden sense of renovated childhood,
which seems to me one of the mysteries of our being."
Mrs. Hemans to Mrs. Lawrence from Redesdale, near
Dublin, 1835.
3J MEMORIALS OF
yet chanced to see the most distinguished
English poetess of the day. " He made no
answer," continues the narrator, "but taking
me by the arm in solemn silence, led me into
the back parlour, where stood a chair in the
centre of the room, isolated from the rest of
the furniture ; and, pointing to it, said, with the
profoundest reverence, in a low earnest tone,
' There she sat, sir, on that chair.' "
After a few days' stay in Edinburgh, Mrs.
Hemans proceeded to Roxburghshire, whence
the following letters are dated. It is hardly neces-
sary to say that Chiefswood, the residence of the
accomplished author of Cyril Thornton, with
whom she had long maintained a correspon-
dence, is in the immediate neighbourhood of
"Melrose and Abbotsford.
" Chiefswood, July 13.
* " How I wish you were within reach of a
post, like our most meritorious Saturday's Mes-
senger, my dear . Amidst all these new
MRS. HEMANS. 31
scenes and new people I want so much to talk
to you all ! At present I can only talk of Sir
Walter Scott, with whom I have been just
taking a long, delightful walk through the
' Rhymour's Glen.'* I came home, to be sure,
in rather a disastrous state after my adventure,
and was greeted by my maid, with that most
disconsolate visage of hers, which invariably
moves my hard heart to laughter ; for I had got
wet above my ancles in the haunted burn, torn
my gown in making my way through thickets
of wild roses, stained my gloves with wood-
strawberries, and even — direst misfortune of all !
scratched my face with a rowan branch. But
what of all this ? Had I not been walking
with Sir Walter Scott, and listening to tales of
elves and bogles and brownies, and hearing
him recite some of the Spanish ballads till they
■ stirred the heart like the sound of a trumpet ?'
I must reserve many of these things to tell you
when we meet, but one very important trait,
(since it proves a sympathy between the Great
32 MEMORIALS OF
Unknown and myself,) I cannot possibly defer to
that period, but must record it now. You will
expect something peculiarly impressive, I have
no doubt. Well — we had reached a rustic seat
in the wood, and were to rest there, but I, out
of pure perverseness, chose to establish myself
comfortably on a grass bank. * Would it not
be more prudent for you, Mrs. Hemans,' said
Sir Walter, * to take the seat ?' 'I have no
doubt that it would, Sir Walter, but, somehow
or other, I always prefer the grass.' 'And so
do I,' replied the dear old gentleman, coming
to sit there beside me, 'and I really believe
that I do it chiefly out of a wicked wilfulness,
because all my good advisers say that it will
give me the rheumatism. ' Now was it not
delightful ? I mean for the future to take
exactly my own way in all matters of this kind,
and to say that Sir Walter Scott particularly
recommended me to do so. I was rather agree-
ably surprised by his appearance, after all I had
heard of its homeliness ; the predominant ex-
HilRS. HEMANS. 33
pression of countenance, is, I think, a sort of
arch good-nature, conveying a mingled impres-
sion of penetration and benevolence. The
portrait in the last year's Literary Souvenir is an
excellent likeness
"Chiefs wood, July 13th.
" Will you not be alarmed at the sight of
another portentous-looking letter, and that so
soon again ? But I have passed so happy a
morning in exploring the ' Rhymour's Glen '
with Sir Walter Scott, that, following my first im-
pulse on returning, I must communicate to you
the impression of its pleasant hours, in ♦full con-
fidence that while they are yet fresh upon my
mind, I shall thus impart to you something of my
own enjoyment. W r as it not delightful to ramble
through the fairy ground of the hills, with the
' mighty master ' himself for a guide, up wild
and rocky paths, over rude bridges, and
along bright windings of the little haunted
c5
34 MEMORIALS OF
stream, which fills the whole ravine with its
voice ? I wished for you so often ! There was
only an old countryman with us, upon whom Sir
Walter is obliged to lean for support in such
wild walks, so I had his conversation for several
hours quite to myself, and it was in perfect har-
mony with the spirit of the deep and lonely
scene ; for he told me old legends, and repeated
snatches of mountain ballads, and showed me
the spot where Thomas of Ercildoune
' Was aware of a lady fair,
Came riding down the glen/
which lady was no other than the fairy queen,
who bore him away to her own mysterious land.
We talked too of signs and omens, and strange
sounds in the wind, and 'all things wonderful
and wild ;* and he described to me some gloomy
cavern scenes which he had explored on the
northern coast of Scotland, and mentioned his
having heard the deep foreboding murmur of
MRSv HEMANS. 35
storms in the air, on those lonely shores, for
hours and hours before the actual bursting of
the tempest. We stopped in one spot which I
particularly admired ; the stream fell there down
a steep bank into a little rocky basin overhung
with mountain ash, and Sir Walter Scott de-
sired the old peasant to make a seat there, kindly
saying to me, ' I like to associate the names of
my friends and those who interest me, with na-
tural objects and favourite scenes, and this shall
be called Mrs. Hemans , seat/ But how I
wished you could have heard him describe a
glorious sight which had been witnessed by a
friend of his, the crossing the Rhine at Ehren-
breistein, by the German army of Liberators on
their return from victory. ' At the first gleam of
the river,' he said, ' they all burst forth into the
national chaunt c Am Rhein, am Rhein P They
were two days passing over, and the rocks and
the castle were ringing to the song the whole
time, for each band renewed it while crossing,
and the Cossacks with the clash and the clang,
36 MEMORIALS OF
and the roll of their stormy war-music, catching
the enthusiasm of the scene, swelled forth the
chorus i Jm Rkein, am Rhein !' I shall never
forget the words, nor the look, nor the tone,
with which he related this ; # it came upon me
suddenly, too, like that noble burst of warlike
melody from the Edinburgh Castle rock, and I
could not help answering it in his own words,
' 'Twere worth ten years of peaceful life,
One glance at their array.'
" I was surprised when I returned to Chiefs-
wood to think that I had been conversing so
* Upon this anecdote Mrs. Hemans afterwards based
one of the most spirited of her national lyrics, " The
Rhine Song of the German Soldiers after Victory."
The effect of this when sung with a single voice and
chorus, is most stately and exciting. The air had never
before been mated with suitable words ; the German
Trink-lied, (drinking song,) which belongs to it in the
original, falls far behind the music, which is high-toned
and spirited.
MRS. HEMANS. 37
freely and fearlessly with Sir Walter Scott, as
with a friend of many days, and this at our first
interview too ! for he is only just returned to
Abbotsford and came to call upon me this morn-
ing, when the cordial greeting he gave me to
Scotland, made me at once feel a sunny influ-
ence in his society I am going to
dine at Abbotsford to-morrow — how you would
delight in the rich baronial-looking hall there,
with the deep-toned coloured light, brooding
upon arms and armorial bearings, and the fretted
roof imitating the faery sculpture of Melrose
in its flower-like carvings ! Rizzio's beautiful
countenance has not yet taken its calm clear
eyes from my imagination ; the remembrance
has given rise to some lines, which I will send
you when I write next. There is a sad fearful
picture of Queen Mary in the Abbotsford dining-
room. But I will release you from further de-
scription for this time, and say farewell.
" fiver faithfully yours,
" F. H."
38 MEMORIALS OF
" I really have been careless in not saying to
you anything on the subject of my health . .
. . . but besides that I fear I must plead
guilty to never thinking about the matter when
I wrote to you, I could not have said any thing
then which would have given you much pleasure,
as I suffered much for several days after my ar-
rival here from those strange attacks of sudden
palpitation of the heart. They have, however,
been much less frequent during the last week :
but how is it possible for such an aspen-leaf as
myself, constantly trembling to the rush of some
quick feeling, ever to be well? I sometimes
enjoy a buoyancy both of frame and spirit,
which, though fitful, is the utmost I can ever
hope Thanks for your kind re-
ception of my little sketch — the brother or sister
of which in my present packet hopes for as
cordial a greeting — I find I have not left myself
room to send you the lines upon Rizzio, but I
feel so instantaneous an impulse to communicate
MRS. HEMANS. 39
to you whatever interests me, that I know I shall
write from Abbotsford, and I will send them then.
You are quite right ; it was the description of
that noble Rhine scene which interested me
more than any part of Sir Walter's conversation,
and I wished more that you could have heard
it, than all the high legends and solemn scenes
of which we spoke that day." ....
" Chiefswood, July 20th.
" Whether I shall return to you all ' brighter
and happier/ as your letter so kindly prophecies,
I know not : but I think there is every prospect
of my returning more fitful and wilful than ever ;
for here I am leading my own free native life of
the hills again, and if I could but bring some of
my friends, as the old ballads says, 'near, near,
near me,' I should indeed enjoy it; but that
strange solitary feeling which I cannot chase
away, comes over me too often like a dark sudden
40 MEMORIALS OF
shadow, bringing with it an utter indifference
to all things around. I lose it most frequently,
however, in the excitement of Sir Walter Scott's
society. And with him I am now in constant
intercourse, taking long walks over moor and
woodland, and listening to song and legend of
other times, until my mind quite forgets itself,
and is carried wholly back to the days of the
Slogan and the fiery cross, and the wild gather-
ings of border chivalry. I cannot say enough
of his cordial kindness to me ; it makes me feel
when at Abbotsford, as if the stately rooms of
the proud ancestral-looking place, were old
familiar scenes to me. Yesterday he made a
party to show me the * pleasant banks of Yar-
row,' about ten miles from hence : I went with
him in an open carriage, and the day was lovely,
smiling upon us with a real blue sunny sky, and
we passed through I know not how many storied
spots, and the spirit of the master-mind seemed
to call up sudden pictures from every knoll and
cairn as we went by — so vivid were his descrip-
MRS. HEMANS. 41
tions of the things that had been. The names
of some of those scenes had, to be sure, rather
savage sounds ; such as ' Slain Man's Lea,'
' Dead Man's Pool,"* &c, &c. ; but I do not
know whether these strange titles did not throw
a deeper interest over woods and waters now so
brightly peaceful. We passed one meadow on
which Sir Walter's grandfather had been killed
in a duel ;* ' had it been ! a century earlier,'
said he, ' a bloody feud would have been trans-
mitted to me, as Spaniards bequeath a game of
chess to be finished by their children.' And I
do think, that had he lived in those earlier days,
no man would have more enjoyed what Sir
Lucius CTTrigger is pleased to call 'a pretty
quarrel;' the whole expression of his benevo-
lent countenance changes if he has but to speak
of the dirk or the claymore : you see the spirit
* A notice appeared in one pf the periodicals of 1835,
alluding to this letter, whi^h was published in the
Athenaeum, for the purpose/ of correcting this state-
ment. I regret that, after ; much search, I have not
been able to find it. I
42 MEMORIALS OF
that would * say amidst the trumpets, ha ! ha !'
suddenly flashing from his gray eyes, and some-
times, in repeating a verse of warlike min-
strelsy, he will spring up as if he sought the
sound of a distant gathering cry. But I am for-
getting beautiful Yarrow, along the banks of
which we walked through the Duke of Buc-
cleugh's grounds, under old rich patrician trees;
and at every turn of our path, the mountain
stream seemed to assume a new character, some-
times lying under steep banks in dark trans-
parence, sometimes
' crested with tawny foam,
Like the mane of a chestnut steed.'
And there was Sir Walter beside me, repeatiug,
with a tone of feeling as deep as if then only first
wakened —
1 They sought him east, they sought him west,
They sought him far with wail and sorrow ;
There was nothing seen but the coming night,
And nothing heard but the roar of Yarrow.'
MRS. HEMANS. 43
It was all like a dream. Do you remember
Wordsworth's beautiful poem 6 Yarrow visited ?
I was ready to exclaim, in its opening words —
' And is this Yarrow ?' — There was nothing to
disturb the deep and often solemn loveliness of
the scenery: no rose-coloured spencers such as
persecuted the unhappy Count Forbin amidst
the pyramids — Mr. Hamilton, and Mrs. Lock-
hart, and the boys, who followed us, were our
whole party; and the sight of shepherds, real,
not Arcadian shepherds, sleeping under their
plaids to shelter from the noon-day, carried me
at once into the heart of a pastoral and mountain
country. We visited Newark tower, where,
amongst other objects that awakened many
thoughts, il found the name of Mungo Park,
(who was a native of the Yarrow vale,) which he
had inscribed himself, shortly before leaving his
own bright river never to return. We came
back to Abbotsford, where we were to pass the
remainder of the day, partly along the Ettrick,
and partly through the Tweed ; on the way, we
44 MEMORIALS OF
were talking of trees, in his love for which, Sir
Walter is a perfect Evelyn.' I mentioned to him
what I once spoke of to you, the different sounds
they give forth to the wind,* which he had ob-
* . . . ' The arrowy spire
Of the lone cypress— as of wood-girt fane,
Rests dark and still amid a heaven of fire.
The pine gives forth its odours, and the lake
Gleams like one ruby, and the soft winds wake,
Till every string of Nature's solemn lyre
Is touched to answer ; its most secret tone
Drawn from each tree, for each hath whispers all its
own.'
Forest Sanctuary, Canto ii. verse 72.
Many, other happy and distinctive allusions to the
sounds of the trees will be remembered by every one
who is familiar with Mrs. Hemans' works. She was,
indeed, peculiarly sensitive to the significance of natural
sound. " If I were an enchantress," says she, in one of
her letters, " I would certainly put a spell and a voice
in all the trees, and streams, and flowers, and make
them say the prettiest things imaginable about me to
those in whom I am interested."
MRS. HEMANS. 45
served, and he asked me if I did not think that
an union of music and poetry, varying in mea-
sure and expression, might in some degree imi-
tate or represent those c voices of the trees ;' and
he described to me some highland music of a
similar imitative character, called the c notes of
the sea-birds' 1 — barbaric notes truly they must
be ! — In the evening we had a good deal of
music : he is particularly fond of national airs,
and I played him many, for which I wish you
had heard how kindly and gracefully he thanked
me. But, O ! the bright swords ! I must not
forget to tell you how I sat, like Minna in the
Pirate, (though she stood or moved, I believe,)
the very * queen of swords/ I have the strongest
love for the flash of glittering steel — and Sir
Walter brought out I know not how many gal-
lant blades to show me ; one which had fought
at Killicrankie, and one which had belonged to
the young Prince Henry, James the First's son,
and one which looked of as noble race and tem-
per as that with which Coeur de Lion severed the
46 MEMORIALS OF
block of steel in Saladin's tent. What a number
of things I have yet to tell you ! I feel sure that
my greatest pleasure from all these new ob-
jects of interest will arise from talking them over
with you when I return. I hope you have re-
ceived my letter with an account of the * Rhy-
mour's Glen,' and the little drawing of Chiefs-
wood, for which I now send you a pendant in
one of Abbotsford, which is, at least, recom-
mended by its fidelity Pray do not
let me be forgotten amongst you while I am far
away. I have always the strangest fear of being
forgotten.
" Ever faithfully yours,
" F. H."
* " Thanks, many thanks, my dear ,
for your kind and welcome letter. You do
not know how much I am cheered always by
the sight of a packet from street. . .
But away with all these ominous thoughts, for
MRS. HEMANS. 47
the sun — yes, indeed, in spite of all your bro-
ther's southron sauciness — a real Scottish sun is
shining cheerily, and the little burn glancing
brightly past — and, better than all — I think Sir
Walter will be here this morning, and then I
shall go and walk with him through the Rhy-
mour's Glen, or the ' Hexel's Cleuch,' (which
means, as he tells me, the Witch's Dell,) or by
some of his own woods, which he so loves and
delights in. I am going to Abbotsford for some
days on Saturday, and expect to carry away
many delightful recollections and tales to tell by
the fireside when I return to you all
How I wish I could give you some idea of
whom I have heard preach — how he dives, with
an actual bodily diving, down into the abysses of
his sermon, to fish up an argument ; and how
he nails the argument, with a resolute Jael-like
gesture to the pulpit, when fairly caught — and
how he complimenteth me, after a most solemn
and delectable fashion. . . . All this must be
matter for the discussion of future evening hours.
48 MEMORIALS OF
Nathless, let me not forget to tell you now, lest,
peradventure, it should escape me, how, in dis-
coursing upon the various excellencies of that
somewhat overrated insect, the ant, he exhorted
his hearers to look upon ' that gifted individual, 3
and take pattern by her virtues. . . .
" I am afraid I must give up the idea of as-
cending the Eildon Hill, though I have really
felt better within the last ten days ; those violent
breathings of the heart have been much less fre-
quent ; but I have ominous warnings of them
whenever I over-exert myself. I have written
your brother a long account of a day I passed
on the banks of lovely Yarrrow. I hope he
has received it long ere this. Now farewell for
the present — in the house I cannot remain one
moment longer,
" Ever your very affectionate
« F. H."
MRS. HEMANS. 49
TO A REMEMBERED PICTURE.*
They haunt me still — those calm, pure, holy eyes !
Their piercing sweetness wanders thro' my dreams :
The soul of music that within them lies,
Comes o'er my soul in soft and sudden gleams :
Life — spirit. life — immortal and divine,
Is there — and yet how dark a death was thine !
Could it— oh ! could it be — meek child of song ?
The might of gentleness on that fair brow^—
Was the celestial gift no shield from wrong ?
Bore it no talisman to ward the blow ?
Ask if a flower, upon the billows cast,
Might brave their strife— a flute-note hush the blast ?
Are there not deep sad oracles to read
In the clear stillness of that radiant face ?
Yes, ev'n like thee must gifted spirits bleed,
Thrown on a world, for heavenly things no place !
Bright exiled birds that visit alien skies,
Pouring on storms their suppliant melodies.
* I have departed from my original plan in quoting
one of Mrs. Hemans' poems entire : — it was necessary,
in the present instance, for the clear understanding of
the following letter.
VOL. II. D
50 MEMORIALS OF
And seeking ever some true, gentle breast,
Whereon their trembling plumage might repose,
And their free song-notes, from that happy nest,
Gush as a fount that forth from sunlight flows ;
Vain dream ! the love whose precious balms might
save
Still, still denied : — they struggle to the grave.
Yet my heart shall not sink ! — another doom,
Victim ! hath set its promise in thine eye ;
A light is there, too quenchless for the tomb,
Bright earnest of a nobler destiny.
Telling of answers, in some far-off sphere,
To the deep souls that find no echo here.
" Abbotsford, — 26.
" I believe I have embodied in these lines my
idea, not only of Rizzio's fate, but of Mary's :
you, I recollect, thought the latter rather an
imaginary view, and it may well be ; for I have
so often found a kind of relief in throwing the
colouring of my own feelings over the destiny of
historical characters, that it has almost become
MRS. HEMANS. 51
a habit of my mind But how can I go
on thus, speaking of myself, here in this faery
realm of Abbotsford ? — with so many relics of
the chivalrous past around me, and the presiding
spirit which has gathered them together still
shedding out its own brightness over all ! I
have now had the gratification of seeing him in
every point of view I could desire : we had one
of the French princes here yesterday, with his
suite; — the Due de Chartres, son of the Due
d' Orleans ; — and there was naturally some little
excitement diffused through the household by
the arrival of a royal guest: Sir Walter was,
however, exactly the same in his own manly
simplicity ; — kind, courteous, unaffected ; 6 his
foot upon his native heath? I must say a few
words of the Due, who is a very elegant young
man, possessing a finished and really noble grace
of manner, which conveys at once the idea of
Sir Philip Sidney's high thoughts seated ' in a
heart of courtesy,' and which one likes to con-
sider as an appanage of royal blood. I was a
d 2
52 MEMORIALS OF
little nervous when Sir Walter handed me to
the piano, on which I was the sole performer,
for the delectation of the courtly party. Son
Altesse Royale made a most exemplary listener ;
hut my discovery that he was pleased to con-
sider one of Count Oginski's polonaises as a
variation upon that beautiful slow movement of
Hummel's which you copied for me, and which
is one of my especial favourites, very much
neutralized the effect which his ' paroles d'or et
de soie' might otherwise have had upon my
dazzled intellect. To-day, Lord is ex-
pected, with his eldest son, here called the
s Master of .' How completely that title
brings back Ravenswood and Lucy Ashton to
one's imagination ! If the « Master ' have not
something of the stately Edgar about him, I
shall be rather disappointed I am
so glad you are going on so diligently with
Spanish, and anticipate so much pleasure from
your further acquaintance with the beautiful
Letrillas and romances I have collected myself.
MRS. HEMANS. 53
I have never had any companion in my Spanish
studies, or any person who has taken the least
interest in them before, —so that you will be the
only friend associated with them in my recollec-
tion. I suppose these Abbotsford pens are all
spoiled by the Waverley novels. I am really * a
woman to be pitied ' for the one with which I
write, and your lot in reading will not be much
more enviable." . . .
Mrs. Hemans returned from Abbotsford filled
with grateful recollections of the kindness she
had received within its walls, and of her inter-
course with its master — as frank and simple-
hearted as he was richly-gifted beyond the rest
of his race. Some of his antiquarian treasures
took a strong hold of her imagination ; in parti-
cular, that picture of Mary Stuart which was
painted after her execution ; nor had she dwelt
so long within the magician's precincts without
having gathered up some of his legends. I re-
54 MEMORIALS OF
member her repeating, with great effect, the
tradition of the Wild Huntsman being heard
in the streets of Valenciennes shortly before the
battle of Waterloo, which he had told her. Her
mind was thoroughly awakened and kindled by
this visit, to which she referred as one of the
brightest passages of her life. She might well
say, in one of her letters, " I shall bring with
me many bright recollections from Scotland,
and hope they will be the means of adding en-
joyment to your fireside also."
Little more remains to be told of Mrs. Hemans 1
sojourn at Abbotsford. To one of her sons,
however, who was her companion in this inte-
resting visit, I am indebted for an anecdote or
two, which complete the picture. " She used to
spend the mornings chiefly in taking long walks
or drives with Sir Walter ; in the evenings she
used to play to him, # principally her sister's
* " I have marked all the music in my book which
Sir Walter particularly enjoys; the ' Rhine Song' is
MRS. HEMANS. 55
music, and sometimes sing — (for at an earlier
age, when her health was strong, she had pos-
sessed a very good voice) — and I remember his
saying to her, on one of these occasions, ' One
would say you had too many accomplishments,
Mrs. Hemans, were they not all made to give
pleasure to those around you V He was affected
to tears by her reading aloud a little French
poem, describing the sufferings of the Bourbons
in the Conciergerie, and begged her to discon-
tinue .... I never heard Sir Walter
make any allusion to his own fame, except on
one occasion when we visited Newark Tower,
and, on seing two tourists make a precipitate
retreat at our approach, he said, smiling, — < Ah,
Mrs. Hemans, they little know what two lions
they're running away from V "
Further letters of the same series contain
one of his very great favourites, and a ' Cancionella
Espanola' another: and of the e Captive Knight' he is
never weary."— From a letter.
56 MEMORIALS OF
accounts of Mrs. Hemans' visits to Hawthorn-
den, Roslin, and other equally celebrated scenes
of Scottish song and story. After she left Ab-
botsford, she paid several visits to noble houses,
and I regret much that I have been unable to
find a letter, one of her liveliest, written from
Hopetoun House, in which was described, with
inimitable grace and liveliness, an adventure in
a haunted chamber belonging to that mansion —
a tapestried chamber, too : how she had retired
to her pillow, conjuring up a thousand weird
and shadowy images, till she became almost
afraid of the phantoms of her own imagination ;
and when she looked round the room, started at
the fantastic figures on the walls : — how, in the
true heroine style, she must needs rise and exa-
mine these by the light of her taper ; — when lo !
instead of prince or paladin or bearded magician
with fatal eyes, the object of her fear proved a
Jemmy Jessamy shepherd, tranquilly plucking
cherries in a tree, for the benefit of some equally
Arcadian Silvi or Corisca below.
MRS. HEMANS. 57
The three letters which follow were written
upon her return to Edinburgh.
" Albyn Place, Edinburgh, August 21st.
" I hope you have not felt anxious on account
of my silence, which, indeed, has been unusually
long ; but for several days after I last wrote, I
was so languid, from over-fatigue, that I could
only 'think to you, 1 as I always do when any
thing interests me. I am now better again, hav-
ing been allowed a little more repose, and find-
ing myself much more protected in Lady 'b
house (where I have passed the last fortnight)
from the inconveniences of celebrity, which, to
me, are often painfully oppressive. I cannot
tell you how very welcome your letters are to
me; how much they always seem to bring me
back of pure and home-feeling — ' the cup of
water,' for which my spirit pines in the midst of
excitement and adulation, and to which I turn
from all else that is offered me, as I would to a
place of shelter from the noon- day. . . .1
d 5
58 MEMORIALS OF
have lost the Castle now, and its martial music,
being removed to a much less inspiring part of
the town ; but a few nights ago, I made a party
to walk through some of the most beautiful
streets by moonlight. We went along Prince's-
street to the foot of the Calton Hill, and gazed
down upon Holyrood, lying so dark and still in
its desolateness, and forming so strong a con-
trast to the fair pillars of the Hill, which looked
more pure and aerial than ever as they rose
against the moonlight sky. ( Mais quils se pas-
sent des or ages dufond du coeur? and how little
can those around one form an idea from outward
signs of what may be overshadowing the inner
world of the heart ! Such a sense of strange-
ness and loneliness came suddenly over me, sur-
rounded as I was, amidst all this dusky magni-
ficence, by acquaintance of yesterday. I felt as
if all I loved were so far, far removed from me,
that I could have burst into tears from the rush
of this unaccountable emotion. Had I possessed
any power of ' gramarye? you would certainly
MRS. HEMANS. 59
have found yourself all of a sudden transported
through the air. I am sure you would have en-
joyed the scene, with all its bold outlines,
gleaming lights, and massy shadows
Since I last wrote to you, I have been hearing
preach, and am almost ashamed to tell
you of the sense of disappointment I brought
away with me. I really went prepared to yield
up my whole spirit to the powers of his genius
— but, alas, for my fastidious taste ! With
every disposition, with indeed the most anxious
desire to be wholly subdued, I could not over-
come the effect of his most untuneful voice,
plebeian aspect, and dialect, illustrating Shak-
speare's idea of having been ( at a feast of lan-
guages and brought away the scraps,' — the
scraps of all that you can imagine most coarse
and repelling. I was really angry with myself
to find that the preacher's evidently deep con-
viction, and unquestioned powers of thought,
could never quell within me that provoking
sense of the ludicrous which this 'scrannel-
60 MEMORIALS OF
pipe ' of a voice and barbaric accent perpetually
excited. I have just returned with much more
pleasing impressions from visiting a fine collec-
tion of pictures, in which a Magdalen of Guido's,
with the fervent expression of the up-raised eye,
and the desolate flow of the long hair, particu-
larly struck me, and brought to recollection
some passages of our favourite 'Correggio.' I
hope I shall have an interesting visit to describe
to you when I write again, as Mr. Mackenzie,
' the Man of Feeling,' who is now very old and
infirm, has sent to beg I would come and see
him." ....
" I have just returned from paying the visit
I mentioned, to old Mr. Mackenzie, and have
been exceedingly interested. He is now very
infirm, and his powers of mind are often much
affected by the fitfulness of nervous indisposi-
tion; so that his daughter, whr» introduced me
to his sitting-room, said very mournfully as we
MRS. HEMANS.
61
entered, -You will see but the wreck of my
father.' However, on my making some allusion,
after his first kind and gentle reception of me,
to the 'men of other times' with whom he had
lived in such brilliant association, it was really
like the effect produced on the Last Minstrel, —
' — when he caught the measure wild,
The old man raised his face, and smiled,
And lighted up his faded eye ;'
for he became immediately excited, and all his
furrowed countenance seemed kindling with re-
collections of a race gone by. It was singular to
hear anecdotes of Hume, and Robertson, and
Gibbon, and the other intellectual ' giants of old,'
from one who had mingled with their minds in
familiar converse. I felt as if carried back at least
a century.
" < Ah r said he, half playfully, half sadly,
' there were men in Scotland then !' I could not
help thinking of the story of < Ogier the Dane,'
— do you recollect his grasping the iron crow of
62 MEMORIALS OF
the peasant who broke into his sepulchre and
exclaiming, « It is well ! there are men in Den-
mark still/ Poor Miss Mackenzie was so
much affected by the sudden and almost unex-
pected awakening of her father's mind, that on
leaving the room with me, she burst into tears,
and was some time before she could conquer
her strong emotion. I hope to have another
interview with this delightful old man before I
leave Edinburgh."
fr 8, Albyn Place, Edinburgh, August 2bth, 1829.
... "I have now quite given up the idea of
returning home by the lakes, as the weather is so
very unpromising, and I do not feel myself equal
to the fatigue of so much travelling by coaches.
.... Since 1 last wrote I have become ac-
quainted with Mr. , with whose works
you are probably familiar, and have heard him
MRS. HEMANS. 63
preach ; the general impression was a very de-
lightful one, the more so, perhaps, as my fasti-
dious taste had been so much disturbed by
, that it really was glad to repose upon
Mr. *s venerable countenance, graceful
manner, and gentle earnestness of voice; — there
is something of classic elegance about him forming
as strong a contrast to the harsher style of the
Scotch kirk as a Doric temple would to the
grim bleakness of a Methodist chapel. There
is a tone of refinement in his conversation which
quite answers the expectations- awakened by his
manner in the pulpit; indeed, his 'courtly grace'
is rather against him here ; for my part, I must
own I found its effect very 'comfortable.' I
wished for you yesterday when I went to visit a
fine colossal group of sculpture, Ajax bearing
away the body of Patroclus, which has just been
completed by an Edinburgh artist, and is excit-
ing much interest here. Its effect, standing as
it does quite alone in the midst of a large hall
64 MEMORIALS OF
hung with dark crimson, is exceedingly imposing;
and the contrast of life and death in the forms
of the combating and the departed warrior,
struck me as full of power and thought. The
men of hats and great coats who were standing
round it looked so mean and insignificant, that I
quite longed to blow them away, and to surround
the heroic vision with a stately solitude. I al-
ways forgot to send an inscription which I co-
pied for you from a silver urn at Abbotsford
sent by Lord Byron to Sir Walter Scott. I
though it might interest you, and enclose it
now." ...
In the next letter of the series, Mrs. Hemans
alludes to the bust executed by Mr. Angus
Fletcher, whilst she was on a visit to her friend
Sir Robert Liston, which, as a graceful and faith-
ful work of art, deserves an especial mention,
no less than for its being the only model taken
MRS. HEMANS. 65
of her features. Few celebrated authors, indeed,
have caused so little spoliation of canvass or
marble as Mrs. Hemans. She never sat for
her picture willingly, and the play of her fea-
tures was so quick and changeful, as to render
the artist's task difficult almost to impossibility.
" Milburn Tower.
" Instead of requiring you to be * made of
apologies/ — dear cousin ' I really think
you are too kind in writing to me again after
leaving your former letter so long unanswered.
I am very glad you are returned home, as I
look for much delight from meeting you all to-
gether once more after my wanderings. I be-
gan to think some little time since that I really
never should disentangle myself from the ' wily
Scotchmen.' After many struggles, however, I have
at last extricated myself, and hope to be with you
all again in the course of a very few days; and if
it were not for the thoughts of returning to friends
66 MEMORIALS OF
so kind and dear, I might well regret leaving the
land where I have been so warmly welcomed.
Will you give my kind love to your sister, with
thanks for her interesting letter, and tell her
that sitting for a bust, awful as it may sound, is
by no means an infliction so terrible as sitting
for a picture ; the sculptor allows much greater
liberty of action, as every part of the head and
form is necessary to his work. My effigy is now
nearly completed, and is thought to be a per-
formance of much talent : it is so very graceful
that I cannot but accuse the artist of flattery, the
only fault he has given me any reason to find.
I am glad to think that you will probably see it,
as Mr. Fletcher talks of exhibiting it in Liver-
pool. I should like to have witnessed your ex-
ploits but, believe me, cou-
sin, they are nothing to what I have achieved in
the ; north countrie' with my mazourkas, and po-
lonoises, and another waltz which my good old
host, Sir is pleased to call one of my
'wildnesses,' and which have actually won from
MRS. HEMANS. 67
a grave clergyman of the Scottish kirk a sonnet,
— yes, a veritable sonnet — inspired, as he de-
clares, by my ' flying fingers' soft control.' With
this, and the admiration of to boot, it is
not marvellous that my head retains any sort of
equilibrium ? Treat me with due reverence, Sir
and my cousin, when next we meet, that I may
be let down to the familiarities of ordinary life
by gentle degrees. Your visits to Boscobel and
Hodnet must have been delightful — the latter
especially ; I admire your resolute spirit of faith :
for my part, so determined is mine, that if I
went to Rushin Castle, I should certainly look
for the giant, said to be chained and slumbering
in the dark vaults of that pile. Well, mon
cousin, we shall meet so soon, that it is now
scarcely worth while to talk over one's adventures
in writing ; besides, I feel myself in a state of
dulness, having been obliged to entertain a party
of leeches to my head last night, who seem to
have drawn therefrom whatever brilliance it
68 MEMORIALS OF
might have contained. I will therefore only add
Charles and Henry's love to my own, and beg
you to believe me,
" Ever most truly yours,
« F. H."
MRS. HEMANS. 69
CHAPTER III.
The " Songs of the Affections"— Extract from familiar
correspondence — Haunted Hamlet near Melrose —
" Rhine Song" — Lewis's " Tales of Terror" — Dr.
Channing — Ballad on the Death of Aliatar— New-
Year's wishes—" The Fall of Nineveh"—" A Spirit's
Return'— Analysis of character—The Rev. Edward
Irving— De Lamartine's Poems— Mr. Roscoe— Per-
golesi's (t Stabat Mater"— New songs by Moore and
Bishop — Manzoni's "Cinque Maggio"— Godwin's
u Cloudesley"— Projected journey to the Lakes-
Dramatic Scene— New volume of Poems.
It was towards the close of the year 1829, that
Mrs. Hemans began to contemplate the pub-
lication of a new volume of poems. She had
70 MEMORIALS OF
already made some preparation for this by con-
tributing a series of lyrics under the title of
" Songs of the Affections" to Blackwood's Ma-
gazine; together with the long ballad, " The
Lady of Provence," which, for the glowing
pictures it contains, the lofty yet tender affection
to which it is consecrated, and the striking but
never uncouth changes of its versification, must
be considered as one of its author's finest chi-
valresque poems. She had still, however, to
produce some work of greater importance than
these, suitable for the commencement of a
volume. The subject at length fixed upon by
her, as peculiar as it was almost dangerously
fascinating, was suggested by a fire-side conver-
sation. It had long been a favourite amusement
to wind up our evenings by telling ghost stories.
One night, however, the store of thrilling nar-
ratives was exhausted, and we began to talk of
the feelings with which the presence and the
speech of a visitant from another world (if, in-
deed, a spirit could return,) would be most
MRS. HEMANS. 7 J
likely to impress the person so visited. After
having exhausted all the common varieties of
fear and terror in our speculations, Mrs. Hemans
said that she thought the predominant sensa-
tions at the time must at once partake of awe
and rapture, and resemble the feelings of those
who listen to a revelation, and at the same mo-
ment know themselves to be favoured above all
men, and humbled before a being no longer
sharing their own cares or passions ; but that
the person so visited must thenceforward and for
ever be inevitably separated from this world and
its concerns : for the soul which had once enjoyed
such a strange and spiritual communion, which
had been permitted to look, though but for a mo-
ment, beyond the mysterious gates of death, must
be raised, by its experience, too high for common
grief again to perplex, or common joy to enliven.
She spoke long and eloquently upon this sub-
ject, and I have reason to believe that this con-
versation settled her wandering fancy, and gave
7*2 MEMORIALS OF
rise to the principal poem in her next volume.
Of her smaller occupations and cares during the
autumn and winter, the following fragments will
supply sufficient record.
" I must tell you how much pleasure I have,
my dear sir, in renewing the long suspended
intercourse by our own * post,' who is, I hope,
prepared with due resignation for the days of
toil that await her. I seem scarcely to have
seen you since my return . . . Would you
have the kindness either to bring or send me,
when you have leisure to find it, the number of
the Edinburgh Review containing Mr. Carlyle's
remarks on Burns, with which I much wish to
renew my acquaintance ....
" I always forgot to tell you that I had the
comfortable satisfaction of beholding with my
own eyes, near Melrose, the site of a little ham-
let which had been deserted, not many years
ago, on account of the visits of a spirit. The
MRS. HEMANS. 73
ghost used to come about (whistling, I believe)
at night from one house to another, and the in-
habitants never could accustom themselves to
his incursions ; so they one and all migrated ;
and I believe he still retains possession of the
territory. This was told me by Sir Walter, and
very satisfactorily attested by an old shepherd,
whose uncle or aunt had been one of the ag-
grieved natives, therefore I hope you will re-
ceive it in a proper spirit of faith." . . . .
" Would you be so kind as to write for me
again those lines of Catullus on the return
home, which you gave me some time since ? I
cannot at present find the copy. I should like
them to be transcribed at the end of the MS.
book which I send, and to which, recording as it
does the various tastes and fancies and feelings
of several years, I think they will form a not
inappropriate conclusion. I am still enjoying, in
much quiescence, the comparative stillness of
VOL. II. , e
74 MEMORIALS OF
my home, only I find it rather difficult to return
to the dinner-ordering cares of life, and should
think a month's sojourn in the Castle of Indolence
with 'nought around but images of Rest, 1 the
most delightful thing in the world. How very
truly you have often said that society could
never be the sphere forme! lam come to a
sort of comfortable conviction that you generally
speak oracles on such subjects, at least as far as
regards myself. Will you come
here some evening early next week and read to
me of 'Paynim chief and Christian knight;'
shall it be Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday ?
or this evening, if you are disengaged ? but, if
not, will you tell I should be very glad
to see him here. Can you divine on what days
the musical lectures are to be given, which I
wish to attend ? They were the three on Na-
tional, German, and Church music, but I quite
forget in what order they were to come.
" Ever most truly yours,
« F H."
MRS. HEMANS. 75
# " I am delighted that you were all so much
pleased with the Rhine song, but I could not
satisfy myself — it is a very weary feeling, that
striving after the ideal beauty which one never,
never can grasp. I am going to be quite alone
this evening : how I wish you could come !"
** I had various fortunes in the world after
I left you, my dear , and but little of
the 5 gentle satisfaction* I had proposed to my-
self from taking out my card-case. However,
I do not consider the morning as entirely lost,
since, at one house, where the lady was some
time in making her appearance, I edified my-
self by the study of ' Pascal on the weakness
of man.' .... I do not send Lewis's
Tales of Terror, because I mean to have the
pleasure of bringing them myself some evening
if you should be disengaged, the week after
next, I shall make myself look as ghostly as
possible, and come in the character of the
e 2
76 MEMORIALS OF
' grim white woman.' Can you imagine one of
my ballads, I do not know which, made into a
sort of musical drama, and performed with
scenery, &c. ? I saw an account of it in an Irish
newspaper, which my brother George sent me.
It was performed at Lord F. Leveson Gower's,
and the music, by an Italian professor, is said to
be very beautiful.
" I return the * Fair maid of Perth* with many
thanks. Do not forget to tell me when you
wish to send the Rhine song to : I can
get it franked if you like.
" Ever your affectionate
" Felicia."
" I send you all the writings of Dr. Channing
which I have yet been able to find, but I regret
that amidst the revolutions of my little state
during my absence, the * Essay on Fenelon,'
which, perhaps, you would most wish to have,
has for the present disappeared. The ordina-
MRS. HEMANS. 77
tion discourse, with which I do not know whe-
ther you are acquainted, is, in my opinion, the
noblest and most spirit-stirring of all these
works. And yet, though the voice of Chan-
ling's mind be both a winning and a mighty
one, 'like to a trumpet with a silver sound,'
I almost doubt the power of any voice to re-
awaken a spirit in the state you describe : — is
it not
{ As violets plucked, which sweetest showers
May ne'er make grow again V
I wish I could think otherwise, because the
idea of such a state is one which often occurs
to me, and which I contemplate in fear and
sadness. I have found the Spanish ballad on
the death of Aliatar, since you were here ; and
have been surprised, notwithstanding all the
proud music of the original language, by the
superior beauty of Southey's translation. The
refrain of
78 MEMORIALS OF
f Tristes marchando,
Las trompas roncas/
has certainly a more stately tone of sorrow,
than
' Sad and slow,
Home they go/
and yet the latter is to me a thousand times
more touching. Is it that word home which
makes it so, with all that it breathes of tender-
ness and sadness ? I shall bring it with me
to-morrow, and then we can decide. I shall be
in Street soon after twelve, and I
mean to come armed for the lecture, by envelop-
ing myself in Prince Charles Edward's * escape
tartanf as they call it, in Scotland, which I do
think must have some power to assist me in
evading the pursuit of the s. I mention
this circumstance in order to prepare # you for
* In explanation of this pleasantry, it may be as
well to state that the party addressed was accused of
sharing, to the full, in Doctor Johnson's Southron pre-
judices and antipathies.
MRS. HEMANS. 79
my Avatar in such a costume, which I fear,
notwithstanding this precaution, may come
upon you with all the effect of ' Roy's wife,' or
* Scots who hae wi' Wallace bled/ "
« * # #
" I am sure I should have been
much better, but for an alarm of invasion,
which occurred late in the night, and the dis-
turbance occasioned by which has somewhat
increased my nervous tremors, as you may
judge by the ridiculous hand I am writing.
Some of the letters put me in mind of Sir
Walter Scott's description of an octagon, which
he calls i a circle in an ague-fit/ I thought I
had a great many things to speak to you about
and to show you yesterday evening ; but, some-
how or other, they were all driven out of my
foolish head, and have found a place, I would
fain hope, in your planet, where, perhaps, they
may one day be found with other lost « sub-
W MEMORIALS OF
tleties.' I send you * Garcilaso,' whose volume
pray keep, as long as your reading it without
interrupting other studies may require ; it is
not new to me. I wish you would mark any
passages that strike you." ....
" I think I must have seemed very ungrateful,
in not having more warmly thanked you for all
your good wishes on the approach of another
year, which have been so kindly expressed.
But there is something in the expression of
such wishes, when I know them, as I do know
them, from you to be cordial and sincere, which
awakens within me a feeling at once too grateful
and too 'sorrowful to find utterance in language.
They come to me almost as joyful music from
shore might come to one far on the waters,
speaking of things in which he has 'neither
part nor share,' and yet the sound is welcome.
Will you believe how unfeignedly I would
return such wishes to you, whose path yet lies
MRS. HEMANS. 81
before you, and yet I fain hope would lead to
happiness ? And wherever that path may take
you, or whatever my fate may be, when you
would seek pleasure or comfort from the idea
that you are followed by many and earnest
thoughts of kindness, will you then think of me,
as one who will ever feel in your welfare the
faithful interest of a sisterly friend ? #
" Ever most truly yours,
« F. H."
" My dear sir,
" .... I hope we shall have a German
evening soon ; I have found some fine old
ballads in the * Wunderhorn,' which L want
to show you, and we must read a little of Iphi-
genia ; I had no idea that those awful iambics,
* I hope it is hardly necessary to point to the singular
beauty of expression and feeling of this note, as an
excuse for printing one so exclusively personal in its
subject.
E5
82 MEMORIALS OF
(if iambics they be, for I am in the profoundest
ignorance on such subjects,) could have retained
so much harmony in our language.
" On calling up and reconsidering my impres-
sions of Martin's picture,* it seems to me that
something more of gloomy grandeur might
have been thrown about the funeral pyre; that
it should have looked more like a thing apart,
almost suggesting of itself the idea of an awful
sacrifice. Perhaps it was not in the resources
of the painter to do all this ; but the imagination,
mine at least, seems to require it.
"I should like you to read over my Spirit
song to yourself, when you have leisure, and
then tell me your impression of it ; I will send
it in a day or two. Sometimes I think that I
have sacrificed too much in the apparition scene,
to the idea that sweetness and beauty might be
combined with supernatural effect ; the cha-
racter of the Greek sculpture, which has so
singular a hold upon my imagination, was much
* The Fall of Nineveh.
MRS. HEMANS. 83
in my thoughts at the time. You must tell
me anything that occurs to you on the subject.
Have you read Manzoni's noble ode on the
death-day of Napoleon, translated by Arch-
deacon Wrangham ? It has just been sent me
by Signor Grimaldi, and I know not when I
have met with Italian poetry so rich in deep
thought and powerful expression.
" Ever believe me faithfully yours,
«F. H."
# " I regret that your kind note should have
remained so long unanswered, but as some
compensation, if indeed, I may call it such,
I send you a few songs to read, which I have
lately been writing for music, and which I
thought you would, perhaps, like to see before
they are sent to the composers. You will,
perhaps, trace the last to some of the associa-
tions awakened by our Utilitarian friend, though
* This letter has been accidentally displaced : it be-
longs to the memorials of the ensuing winter.
84 MEMORIALS OF
I think his pretensions to that title are as
dubious as very contemptuously said
Mr, 's were to the character of a
gourmand. I do not know when I have been
more amused than by his grotesque flights of
conversation the evening I met him at your
house, though I was a little startled at the idea
of * my grandfathers head,' which his fancy
wanted to set before me in a charger. I hope
you have at last run the gauntlet through all
the Rontim-Bontims, and are allowing yourself a
little rest ; otherwise, I must say, with my parti-
cular favourite 'Daniel O'Rourke,' I think you
1 a man to be pitied among them :' my own inti-
mate conviction being that ■ of all dull things,
the dullest is festivity/ I am prepared to give
you as much sympathy on the occasion as you
may require. Pray do not ask about my ' Fan-
tasy-piece/ or I shall think you an embodied
conscience, (a sort of demon, which, by-the-bye,
I think I might introduce with appalling effect
whenever the work is written.) I am sojourning
at present in the Castle of Indolence, and I will
MRS. HEMANS. 85
not be disturbed. There is a queenly sentence
for you ! Wake me not !
" Have you looked at Moore's Byron yet ? I
must say that what I have seen of it in the
papers, is to me so inexpressibly disgusting, that
I shall certainly not read the book until I hear
your report."
. ..." I rather think that I write to you this
morning solely pour promener mes degouts, on
which I expect you will bestow as much sym-
pathy as may reasonably be demanded. I am so
thoroughly tired of criticism and analysis, and
sharp two-edged swords of sentences, that I
really begin to look upon Goethe's currant wine
making women, as the true and fitting models
for feminine imitation. QiCen pensez-vous?
For my part, I have serious thoughts of going
over to this side, and I hereby invite you to
come and partake of the first metheglin, hip-
pocras, or pigment, in which my genius may
find its proper and natural channel, and flow
86 MEMORIALS OF
forth to the gladdening of all my happy friends.
" In the mean time, however, and as the ma-
terials for these my designs cannot be imme-
diately collected, I send you part of the conver-
sation which so much delighted me in Tieck's
' Phantasien.' I think you will recognise all the
high tone of the thoughts, and be pleased with
the glimpse, a bright though transient one,
of the dreaming-land — that strange world, which
were I to designate it by my own experience, I
should call a wilderness of beauty and of sor-
row." ....
" Many thanks for all your kind remembrance
of me. I really think the music beautiful, par-
ticularly at the close, and only wonder it has not
made a fuller impression upon you. As for the
launch,* provided the weather will allow of my
* This was one of the sights which Mrs. Hemans
had expressed the strongest wish to see. She had
always, it may be remembered, a more than common
MRS. HEMANS. 87
witnessing it, I have no fear of disappointment.
My imagination generally does me one good
service on such occasions, that of
' Clothing the palpable and the familiar
With golden exhalations like the morn.'
I believe it is only where the feelings are deeply
interested that the imagination causes such per-
petual bitterness of disappointment. Do you
remember St. Leon's dissatisfaction at the
manner in which his daughters receive the
interest in the things of the sea ; and the spectacle not
only touched her enthusiastic English feelings, but ex-
cited her imagination, by suggesting to her the many
chances and changes which must befall the traveller of
the ocean, whose birth, as it were, she witnessed.
Something of this nature she had previously expressed
in her lyric, " The parting ship." But the vessel she
saw launched was but a second-rate merchantman ;
and I cannot but think she must have been disap-
pointed, because no allusion to the sight (with her, a
natural and necessary consequence of any addition
made to her store of pleasures) is, as far as I am
aware, to be found in any of her later poems.
88 MEMORIALS OF
tidings of his death ? I begin to think that all
imaginative persons are, to a certain degree, St
Leons, and that they expect what human nature
is very seldom rich enough to afford. I scarcely
think you have had an opportunity of observing
the most amusing peculiarities in my guest, who
has now left me. I almost thought she would
herself have called out a person by whom I
latterly considered myself aggrieved, and I do not
believe that he could, consistently with any re-
gard for his personal safety, have crossed the
threshold during his stay with me. Truly it is
very pleasant to be so well guarded ; but I can-
not reconcile myself to that prevailing habit of
analysing every thing, fancies, feelings, even
friends — which is the favourite occupation of her
mind. Now I can bear being analysed with
perfect indifference ; but my friends are so com-
pletely severed and set apart in my eyes from all
the gentile world, that I have no idea of their
being subjected to this desecrating process, ac-
tually made studies of character to be examined
MRS. HEMANS. OV
« in the light of common day.' No, it is not to
be endured, whatever skill and science may be
brought to the work of dissection.
I was told yesterday by Mr. Scoresby, that
Mr. Irving is to preach in Liverpool next Sun-
day. I wish very much to hear him. Would
you go with me ? I must own, in all contrition
of spirit, that I have never been very much
affected by any pulpit eloquence, and hoping
that the cause does not lie in my own incor-
rigible hardness of heart, I am really anxious to
give myself another trial, and should be delighted
to find my mind thoroughly subdued." . . .
TO MR. l .
"March 30, 1830.
" My dear Sir,
" I send the two songs # which I beg you to
* * The Muffled Drum," and the u Spirit's Song;"
both of these have been recently published with their
very characteristic and expressive music.
90 MEMORIALS OF
accept as a token of the real delight your music
has afforded me. As I have written them ex-
pressly for you, pray tell me candidly whether
you find difficulties from any parts of the mea-
sure, and would like to have some alterations ;
because I really wish to make them what you
will feel most pleasure in setting. I should
not so much ask whether you find difficulties,
because those I know you could soon overcome,
as whether you think any passage unsuitable to
music. . . . .
"I send 'the Beacon,' which I hope will not
disappoint you, and I believe you also wished to
look at Lamartine's poems; they certainly pos-
sess a much deeper feeling than I have ever met
with in French poetry, excepting perhaps, that
of Casimir Delavigne."
TO MR. L-
" April, 1830.
M My dear Sir,
" I write to tell you that I passed some time this
MRS. HEMANS. 91
morning with Mr. Roscoe, and on mentioning to
him your wish of calling, he gave me leave to say,
that he should have much pleasure in receiving
you any day between the hours of twelve and
three. I told him of the interest you took in
Italian literature, and he said he should like
much to show you a splendid edition of the life
of Lorenzo, lately sent him by the Grand Duke
of Tuscany. As his health is extremely un-
settled, and he happens just now to have a bright
interval, I should think you had better avail
yourself of it, for he is often obliged to pass
months in entire seclusion. ... I enclose
the altered verse of the c Spirit's Voice," in
which I hope the difficulties are now obviated. I
have found so very few brothers -in-rhyme to the
unhappy word i never,' that I thought it better
to excommunicate him at once.
" Very sincerely yours, &c, &c.
« F. H."
92 MEMORIALS OF
Earlier allusion should have been made, in
enumerating the pleasures and privileges of Mrs.
Hemans' residence in Liverpool, to her occasional
intercourse with Mr. Roscoe, who was then pass-
ing through an old age of such serenity and cheer-
fulness, as can never be forgotten by those who
were permitted to look upon it. In spite of
the inroads made by repeated illness, his mind
remained bright and benevolent to the last ; so
long as they were permitted to approach him,
he appeared to take pleasure in the visits of the
young, — would interest himself in their little
plans and prospects, and talk to them of his own
past labours with the conscious pleasure of one
who feels that " his work hath well been done."
In the poetry of Mrs. Hemans Mr. Roscoe had
always taken great pleasure; he was fond of
having it read in his hearing. I know that she
felt the full value of his approbation, and used
to speak of him with almost filial regard, and of
her visits to him as among the happiest and
most salutary hours she passed. In general,
MRS. HEMANS.
she was singularly fond of the society of old
men.
TO MR. L-
April, 1830.
" My dear Sir,
" I am quite sorry that you should have dis-
tressed yourself about the ' Ricciarda,' which
I found this morning in the room where you had
left your cloak, and I was regretting that I had
no means of sending it to you. I am sure that
I shall be delighted with your arrangement of
the l Parting words,' because I never find any
music embody, like yours, all those shades and
fluctuations of feeling which I so often vainly
strive to fix in language ; and whenever I try
to write anything of deeper and more fervent
character than usual, I shall always wish for you
to give it expression.
" It is quite impossible for me to tell you the
94 MEMORIALS OF
impression I have received from that most spi-
ritual music of Pergolesi's, # which really haunted
me the whole night. How much I have to
thank you for introducing me, in such a manner,
to so new and glorious a world of musical
thought and feeling !
" I shall read the life of Haydn with great
interest. An Edinburgh journal, which I have
just received, gives an account of a new work by
Moore and Bishop, which, perhaps, you may
like to see, and I therefore send it : though the
poetry seems to me of but a tinkling character :
one verse of < The stilly night,' or < Those
evening bells,' I should say was worth it all.
* His " Stabat Mater." The earnest, enthusiastic,
affectionate character of Pergolesi, and his early death,
hastened, it was said, by the delay of that success
which was the due of his splendid genius, was sure to
interest Mrs. Hemans. She once thought, I believe,
of making his feelings and fortunes the subject of a
poem.
MRS. HEMANS. 95
. . ... I have just had a very amus-
ing visit from a Spaniard, who told me that
he used to write poetry, but ' that the Muses
looked cross at him for keeping account-books.'
" Very sincerely yours, &c &c.
« F. H."
" I have found the music to the ■ Burial of
Sir John Moore/ which I send you to look at,
though I think it very inferior to the words,
which would require something dark and deep
and Beethovenish"
TO MR. l .
"April 8th, 1830.
" My dear Sir,
" I am predetermined not to give Mr. —
'a single sous' of praise, and it must have
been with the view of confirming me in this re-
solve that you have communicated the opinion
96 MEMORIALS OF
of . Pray accept my best thanks for the
songs, the music of which I am sure mast give
me pleasure, though it may increase my regret
for the privation of my voice. I shall be very
glad to become acquainted with part of your
opera. As for those most Arcadian decorations,
I should as soon have suspected you of the sug-
gestion — 4 Write an ode to music.' That fearful
word ode, reminds me of Manzoni, whose splen-
did poem, the ' Cinque Maggio,' I enclose, and
beg you to keep, as I can now procure another
copy : some of its verses remind me of Sir
Philip Sidney's idea with regard to Chevy
Chace, which he said ' stirred the heart like the
sound of a trumpet/
" I fear I shall have detained your servant an
unconscionable time ; I have had some difficulty
in finding "s volume, which my Folletto —
(did I ever tell you that I had a Folletto quite
as mischievous as Tasso's?) had provokingly
hidden. You are further to attribute to the
agency of this wicked sprite the various blots
MRS. HEMANS. 97
and erasures with which my note seems to
abound.
" Very sincerely yours,
"F. H/'
TO MR. L-
" May 10th.
" My dear Sir,
" How much you must have enjoyed that
spirit-stirring music of ' Guillaume Tell V Oh !
that I could have been there ! — but the nearest
approach to musical sounds which has greeted
my ear since you went, (for I have been too un-
well either to go out or to play myself,) has been
the gentle ticking of Dr. R 's watch, regu-
larly produced on the portentous occasion of
feeling my pulse. So vegetative a life, indeed,
have I been leading, that if I had lived in the
old mythological days, I should certainly ima-
gine I was undergoing a metamorphose into
some kind of tree. The doctors have announced
VOL. II. F
98 MEMORIALS OF
that, without very great care, another winter in
this climate will be dangerous to me : — truly, a
comfortable sentence to me who never could
take care of myself in my life; indeed it is a
thing which I am convinced requires a natural
genius for care to succeed in at all. I have been
reading Godwin's ' Cloudesley :' it does not, I
think, carry away the imagination with any
thing like the mighty spirit of his earlier
works, — but is beautifully written, with an occa-
sional flow of rich and fervent eloquence, remind-
ing me of the effects he attributes to the con-
versation of his own old alchemist in ' St. Leon.'
Pray tell me if you have composed anything
since your arrival in town. Your being able to
compose there at all is to me little less marvel-
lous than alchemy itself, or any other of Mr.
Godwin's phantasies. I wonder whether the
enclosed lines will remind you at all of Pergo- ,
lesi. I had his music full in my imagination
when I composed them. I was very ill and
faint; not exactly fancying myself arrived at life's
MRS. HEMANS. 99
last hour, but longing to hear such a strain as
the ' Stabat Mater: "
In the spring of 1830, Mrs. Hemans pro-
jected that journey to the Lake district, of
which so delightful a record will be found in the
following chapter. She made her escape from a
neighbourhood, outwardly always distasteful to
her, for its total want of beautiful scenery, —
all the more gladly, from having been more
than usually pressed upon by the claims and the
curiosity of strangers. To a visitation from one
of the latter, the humours of which were more
than usually ludicrous, reference is made in the
two following fragments.
* " My dear ,
" Will you come and see me to-morrow even-
ing with your brother? — do, there is a good
girl ! — and shall I come and see you on Wednes-
day evening ? You would all get wofully tired
f 2
100 MEMORIALS OF
of me at this rate, but I am going away so soon
that the danger will for the present be obviated.
I wish you were going with me — what a great
deal of mischief we might accomplish together !
the very rumour of it would startle Mr. De
Quincy out of his deepest opium-dream. What
a pity such brilliant exploits are to remain lost
among the things that might have been ! ' The
ibis and the crocodile would have trembled to
hear of them.' Now, dear , be sure you
come to-morrow evening. . . .
" Oh ! the . . . . ! she came and laid her
friendship at my feet the morning of her de-
parture, and I, < pebble-hearted * wretch that I
am ! never stooped to pick it up."
" I had given up the weary task of attempting
to curtail those hundred-footed speeches in the
dramatic scene,* before I received your note.
* " Don Sebastian/' a fragment of a dramatic poem,
published among the " Poetical Remains."
MRS. HEMANS. 101
I only altered one line, having made sufficient
progress in natural history, since I wrote, to
discover that lions do not attack people who are
asleep ! Heaven be praised ! really has
evaporated ! she paid her farewell visit the other
morning after you were here, and made so
formal, serious, and solemn an offer of her
friendship, < for ever and a day/ that I, secretly
conscious of my own unworthiness, was perfectly
bewildered, and can only hope that my blushes
on this trying occasion were attributed to an
excess of sensibility."
The "Songs of the Affections" were pub-
lished in the summer of 1830. This collection
of lyrics has been, perhaps, less popular than
other of Mrs. Hemans' later works. It was
hardly, indeed, to be expected, that the principal
poem, " A Spirit's Return," the origin and sub-
ject of which have been already described, should
io5
MEMORIALS OF
appeal to the feelings of so large a circle as had
borne witness to the truth of the tales of actual
life and sacrifice and suffering contained in the
" Records of Woman." But there are parts of the
poem solemnly and impressively powerful. The
passages in which the speaker describes her youth
— the disposition born with her to take pleasure
in spiritual contemplations, and to listen to that
voice in nature which speaks of another state of
being beyond this visible world— prepare us
most naturally for the agony of her desire, —
when he, in whom she had devotedly embarked
all her earthly hopes and affections
. . . . " till the world held nought
Save the one being to my centred thought,"
was taken away from her for ever — to see him,
if but for a moment — to speak with him, only
once again ! The coming of the apparition, too,
is described with all the plainness and intensity
of the most entire conviction, so difficult, in these
31 RS. HEMANS. 103
days, for a writer to assume.* As the crisis of
interest approaches, the variety given by alter-
nate rhymes to the heroic measure in which the
tale was written, is wisely laid aside, and it
proceeds with a resistless energy.
" Hast thou been told that from the viewless bourne
The dark way never hath allowed return?
* Might it not almost be said, so impossible to be
assumed by those who have wholly and scornfully
cast off those superstitions, so distasteful to reason,
but so dear to fancy ? It is impossible, in reading
Sir Walter Scott's incomparable descriptions of super-
natural visitations, — the episode of the " Bodach
Glas," for instance, or " Wandering Willie's tale," or
the vigil of Master Holdenough in the Mirror Cham-
ber, (though this is afterwards explained away,) — to
imagine that the creator of these scenes did not, in
some measure, believe in their possibility, though it
might be but with a poetical faith. Were it otherwise,
they must strike us as unnaturally as the recent French
revivifications of the antique Catholic legends and
mysteries — as merely grotesque old fables, adopted as
studies by clever artists, for the sake of their glaring
contrasts and effective situations.
104 MEMORIALS OP
That all, which tears can move, with life is fled,
That earthly love is powerless on the dead ?
Believe it not ! — there is a large lone star
Now burning- o'er yon western hill afar,
And under its clear light there lies a spot
Which well might utter forth, f Believe it not V
I sat beneath that planet, — I had wept
My woe to stillness ; every night-wind slept ;
A hush was on the hills ; the very streams
Went by like clouds, or noiseless founts in dreams,
And the dark tree o'ershadowing me that hour,
Stood motionless, even as the grey church-tower
Whereon I gazed unconsciously ; — there came
A low sound, like the tremor of a flame,
Or like the light quick shiver of a wing,
Flitting through twilight woods, across the air ;
And I looked up !— oh ! for strong words to bring
Conviction o'er thy thought ! — Before me there,
He, the departed, stood !— ay, face to face—
So near, and yet how far !" * * * *
The conclusion of this fine poem is far from
fulfilling the promise of its commencement : but
it was impossible to imagine any events, or give
MRS. HEMANS. 105
utterance to any feelings, succeeding those so
awful and exciting, which should not appear
feeble, and vague, and exhausted. Mrs. He-
mans would sometimes regret that she had
not bestowed more labour upon the close j^of
her work : this, it is true, might have been more
carefully elaborated; but, from the nature of
her subject, I doubt the possibility of its hav-
ing been substantially improved.
F 5
106 MEMORIALS OF
CHAPTER IV.
Mr. Wordsworth's poetry— Mrs. Hemans' visit to the
Lakes — Her letters from Rydal Mount — Passage
from Haco— Genius compatible with domestic hap-
piness — State of music among the Lakes — Mr.
Wordsworth's reading aloud — Anecdote — Dove Nest
— Accident on horseback — Letters from Dove Nest
— Winandermere— The St. Cecilia— Whimsical letter
— Letter of counsel — Commissions— Anecdote of a
bridal gift — Readings of Schiller— Second journey
into Scotland— M. Jeffrey — Six Mrs. Hemans —
Change of residence.
Early in the summer, Mrs. Hemans put into
execution her long-cherished plan of finding rest
and refreshment for a weary spirit among the
beautiful scenery of the Lakes. She was drawn
MRS. HEMANS. 107
thither by the additional motive of a wish to en-
joy the personal intercourse of one whom, for
the sake of his writings, she had long loved and
reverenced as a friend and a counsellor. And thus
it is, indeed, that all poets who are true to the
divine gifts bestowed upon them, must ultimately
be regarded by the sincere and faithful-hearted :
though, for a while, their voices may be drowned
by the outcries which the world idly raises
against what it will not take the trouble, or fears,
to understand. The feelings which impressed Mrs.
Hemans on being first introduced to the poetry
of Mr. Wordsworth, have been already shown
in her own confession : — I must insist upon the
fact that her conviction of his great and noble
powers grew upon her with every year of her
life ; and, I am persuaded, ultimately exercised
a beneficial and calming effect upon a mind,
by nature eager, and by circumstances rendered,
for a time impatient, and ill at ease, and subject
to the most painful alternations of mood. Mrs.He-
mans' copy of Mr. Wordsworth's works might be
108 MEMORIALS OF
called her poetical breviary : there was scarcely
a page that had not its mark of admiration or
its marginal comment or illustration.* She was
unwearied in recommending the study of his
poems, and in pointing out and repeating
their finest passages. Then, too, her political
biases (gentle as they were, and never for a mo-
ment made manifest in controversy) made her
* It was a habit with Mrs. Hemans, to illustrate
her favourite books with the thoughts excited by their
perusal, and with such parallel passages from other
writers as bore upon their subject. If one of her inti-
mate friends lent her a book which she chanced to
adopt, it was sure to return thus enriched. I remem-
ber, in particular, that her copy of Mr. Auldjo's "As-
cent of Mont Blanc" — which, fortunately, had the am-
plest of margins— was positively written over with
snatches of description, and quotations of poetry, for
some of which, I suspect, it would have been no more
difficult to find their owner, than it was to assign the
delightful fragments from " Old Plays," which headed
the chapters of the Waverley novels, to their real
source.
MRS. HEMANS. 109
look up to him as one of the few, in whose reve-
rence for the wisdom of our ancestors, and
manly religious feeling, and deep wisdom, lay
the hope and the safety of our country.
On all these grounds, it will be readily ima-
gined with what delight Mrs. Hemans looked
forward to enjoying such companionship for a
brief summer-season. She had been worn out
with empty flattery and vulgar curiosity, and
longed for shelter, and silence, and repose,
. . . . " in sunny garden bowers
Where vernal winds each tree's low tones awaken,
And bud and bell with changes mark the hours."
With what a natural eloquence of gladness she
poured forth her delight in finding her expectations
more than realized, the following letters will show.
They are purposely given with fewer omissions
than any of the previous series, as offering a per-
fect picture of her mind, when under its best in-
fluences, and least shaken by the cares which, at
times, weighed it down so heavily. Nor will the
110 MEMORIALS OF
pleasantries they contain — in which the poet of
thought and daily life, and the poetess of the
affections and of the imagination, are so happily
contrasted — be misunderstood by those who
love a mind none the less for its changes from
grave to gay, and who find a security for its
truth, in the artless expression of all its moods
and fancies.
Mrs. Hemans was accompanied on this jour-
ney by her youngest son — the other two still
under her care joining her when she was settled
among the Lakes. As usual, she was unwearied
in communicating her impressions to those with
whom, when at home, she shared every thought
and feeling of the passing hour.
"Rydal Mount, Monday, June 22nd, 1830.
"You were very kind in writing to me so
soon, , and making the remembrance of my
journey with you one of unmingled pleasure, by
your assurance that all was well on your return.
For myself, I can truly say that my enjoyment
MRS. HEMANS. Ill
of your society and kindness, and the lovely
scenery by which we were surrounded, made
those pleasant days seem as a little isle of sun-
shine in my life, to which I know that memory
will again and again return. I felt very forlorn
after you were gone from Ambleside:
came and went without exciting a smile, and
my nervous fear at the idea of presenting my-
self alone to Mr. Wordsworth, grew upon me so
rapidly, that it was more than seven before I
took courage to leave the inn. I had indeed
little cause for such trepidation. I was driven
to a lovely cottage-like building, almost hidden
by a profusion of roses and ivy ; and a most be-
nignant-looking old man greeted me in the
porch: this was Mr. Wordsworth himself; and
when I tell you that, having rather a large party
of visitors in the house, he led me to a room
apart from them, and brought in his family by
degrees, I am sure that little trait will give you
an idea of considerate kindness which you will
112 MEMORIALS OF
both like and appreciate. In half an hour I
felt myself as much at ease with him as I had
been with Sir Walter Scott in half a day. I
laughed to find myself saying, on the occasion
of some little domestic occurrence, ' Mr. Words-
worth, how could you be so giddy ?' He has,
undeniably, a lurking love of mischief, and
would not, I think, be half so safely intrusted
with the tied-up bag of winds as Mr. in-
sisted that Dr. Channing might be. There is an
almost patriarchal simplicity, an absence of all
pretension, about him, which I know you would
like ; all is free, unstudied — ' the river winding at
its own sweet will' — in his manner and conversa-
tion there is more of impulse about them than I
had expected, but in other respects I see much
that I should have looked for in the poet of me-
ditative life : frequently his head droops, his eyes
half close, and he seems buried in quiet depths
of thought. I have passed a delightful morning
to-day in walking with him about his own
MRS. HEMANS. 113
richly-shaded grounds, and hearing him speak
of the old English writers, particularly Spenser,
whom he loves, as he himself expresses it, for his
S earnestness and devotedness.' It is an immea-
surable transition from Spenser to , but
I have been so much amused by Mr. Words-
worth's characterizing her as a 'tumultuous
young woman,'* that I cannot forbear trans-
cribing the expression for the use of my friends.
I must not forget to tell you that he not only
admired our exploit in crossing the Ulverston
sands as a deed of c derring do,** but as a decided
proof of taste ; the Lake scenery, he says, is
never seen to such advantage as after the pas-
sage of what he calls its majestic barrier. Let
me write out the passage from Haco, before I
quite exhaust my paper : this was certainly the
meaning we both agreed upon; though I did
not recollect your translation sufficiently well to
arrange the versification accordingly.
* This refers to the party alluded to in the last
fragments of correspondence in the last chapter.
114 MEMORIALS OF
1 Where is the noble game that will not seek
A perilous covert, ev'n from wildest rocks,
In his sore need, when fast the hunter's train
Press on his panting flight ?' "
" Rydal Mount, June 24th, 1830.
" My dear Mr. L ,
" I was on the point of migrating to the land
of Lakes when your former letter reached me ;
I delayed acknowledging it until I had arrived
at my place of destination, Mr. Wordsworth's
house, where I now am, and where I have just
had the pleasure of hearing from you again. . . .
You can scarcely conceive a more beautiful
little spot than Rydal Mount ; my window
is completely embowered in ivy and roses, and
Winandermere lies gleaming among the hills
before it: — what a contrast to the culinary
regions about Liverpool ! I am charmed with
Mr. Wordsworth himself; his manners are dis-
tinguished by that frank simplicity which I
MRS. HE MANS. 115
believe to be ever the characteristic of real
genius ; his conversation perfectly free and un-
affected, yet remarkable for power of expression
and vivid imagery ; when the subject calls forth
any thing like enthusiasm, the poet breaks out
frequently and delightfully, and his gentle and
affectionate playfulness in the intercourse with
all the members of his family, would of itself
sufficiently refute Moore's theory in the Life of
Byron, with regard to the unfitness of genius
for domestic happiness. I have much of his
society, as he walks by me while I ride to ex-
plore the mountain glens and waterfalls, and he
occasionally repeats passages of his own poems
in a deep and thinking tone, which harmonizes
well with the spirit of these scenes
The state of music here is something of the
darkest. Rossini, Beethoven, Weber, are names
that have never awakened the mountain echoes,
here at least. And a lady was so charmed the
other day with the originality of ' Ah perdona,'
that with the view, as she said, of obtaining * a
116 MEMORIALS OF
little new music/ she instantly, in the innocence
of her heart, set about transcribing the whole."
V^vVyV^
^»^^. " Rydal Mount, June 24th, 1830.
" Will you favour me by accepting this copy
of the little volume, in the preparation of which
I was so greatly indebted to your kindness ?
I have written your name in it, and in the other
two that of Dr. , to whom I wish you would
present them with my grateful respects. I seem
to be writing to you almost from the spirit-land ;
all is here so brightly still, so remote from every-
day cares and tumults, that sometimes I can
scarcely persuade myself I am not dreaming.
It scarcely seems to be ' the light of common
day, ' that is clothing the woody mountains
before me ; there is something almost visio?iary
in its soft gleams and ever-changing shadows.
I am charmed with Mr. Wordsworth, whose
kindness to me has quite a soothing influence
MRS. HEMANS. 117
over my spirits. Oh ! what relief, what blessing
there is in the feeling of admiration, when it can
be freely poured forth ! * There is a daily beauty
in his life,' which is in such lovely harmony
with his poetry, that I am thankful to have
witnessed and felt it. He gives me a good deal
of his society, reads to me, walks with me, leads
my poney when I ride, and I begin to talk with
him as with a sort of paternal friend. The
whole of this morning he kindly passed in read-
ing to me a great deal from Spenser, and after-
wards his own 'Laodamia,' my favourite ' Tintern
Abbey,' and many of those noble sonnets which
you, like myself, enjoy so much. His reading
is very peculiar, but, to my ear, delightful;
slow, solemn, earnest in expression more than
any I have ever heard : when he reads or recites
in the open air, his deep rich tones seem to
proceed from a spirit-voice, and belong to the
religion of the place; they harmonize so fitly
with the thrilling tones of woods and waterfalls.
His expressions are often strikingly poetical :
118 MEMORIALS OF
6 1 would not give up the mists that spiritualize
our mountains for all the blue skies of Italy.'
Yesterday evening he walked beside me as I
rode on a long and lovely mountain-path high
above Grasmere Lake : I was mUch interested
by his showing me, carved deep into the rock,
as we passed, the initials of his wife's name,
inscribed there many years ago by himself, and
the dear old man, like ' Old Mortality,' renews
them from time to time ; I could scarcely help
exclaiming ' Esto perpetua /' "...
"Rydal Mount, June 25th, 1830.
" My dear Sir,
" The recurrence of the day on which I used
so often to write to you, makes me wish to com-
municate with you again. I seem as if I longed
to hear the voice of a 'familiar friend,' amidst
the deep stillness of these beautiful scenes.
Beautiful as they are, do you know I have not
yet seen any thing to my eyes half so lovely as
MRS. HEMANS. 119
our own Coniston ; that first impression of lake
scenery will never, I think, be effaced by a
brighter. Grasmere, to which I often ride at-
tended by Mr. Wordsworth, is exquisite, but, I
scarcely know why, something of sadness seems
to overshadow its secluded beauty, whilst all
my recollections of Coniston are bright and
fresh and joyous. You will be pleased to hear
that the more I see of Mr. Wordsworth, the
more I admire, and I may almost say, love him.
It is delightful to see a life in such perfect har-
mony with all that his writings express, * true
to the kindred points of heaven and home !'
You may remember how much I disliked, and I
think you agreed with me in reprobating that
shallow theory of Mr. Moore's with regard to
the unfitness of genius for domestic happiness.
I was speaking of it yesterday to Mr. Words-
worth, and was pleased by his remark, ' It is
not because they possess genius that they make
unhappy homes, but because they do not possess
genius enough ; a higher order of mind would
120 MEMORIALS OF
enable them to see and feel all the beauty of
domestic ties.' He has himself been singularly
fortunate in long years of almost untroubled
domestic peace and union
" How much I was amused yesterday, by a
sudden burst of indignation in Mr. Wordsworth
which would have enchanted — . We were
sitting on a bank overlooking Rydal Lake, and
speaking of Burns. I said, * Mr. Wordsworth,
do you not think his war ode ' Scots who hae wi'
Wallace bled, 1 has been a good deal over-rated ?
especially by Mr. Carlyle, who calls it the no-
blest lyric in the language ?' 'lam delighted
to hear you ask the question,' was his reply,
* over-rated ! — trash ! — stuff ! — miserable in-
anity ! without a thought— without an image!'
&c &c. &c. — then he recited the piece in a
tone of unutterable scorn; and concluded with
a Da Capo of ■ wretched stuff !' I rode past De
Quincy's cottage the other evening. . . .
" I hope you will write very soon. I really
long for a ' voice from home.'' "
MRS. HEMANS. 121
" Rydal Mount, July 2nd, 1830.
" Will you not like to think of me at that
lovely little Dove's Nest which we both of us
admired so much from the lake, my dear Mr.
? I was agreeably surprised to find it a
lodging-house, and have taken apartments there
for a fortnight ; probably I may remain longer,
but I almost fear that its deep though beautiful
seclusion, would, for any length of time, be too
much for one upon whom solitude bears back so
many subjects of melancholy thought. If you
were but near enough to come and pass the
evenings with me ! How I should enjoy making
your coffee at the window, which looks forth to
that glorious lake with all its glancing sails and
woody islets ! But I am sure your thoughts will
sometimes be with me, when you can free them
from the turmoil of your busy life, and the re-
sounding streets, and I hope you will write to
me very often. You may be quite sure that I
always write to you from impulse, and the
strong wish of communion rendered even stronger
vol. u, G
122 MEMORIALS OF
to my nature by beautiful scenery and new im-
pressions. I am indeed but too dependent on
those to whom my mind has linked itself. Pray
thank Dr. for his very kind letter, which
I will answer as soon as I am established at my
Dove's Nest, where I shall have more time for
writing. As you have so particularly requested
me to tell you about my health, I must own that
I am not quite so well as I was at the beginning
of my sojourn here : — I was nearly thrown from
a spirited horse I was riding the other evening,
and have been as tremulous as an aspen leaf
ever since. Mr. Wordsworth, I think, was
more alarmed than myself, for by the time he
came up to me, though I had with some diffi-
culty kept my seat, my voice was completely
gone, and I was unable to speak for many
minutes. However, I continue to ride every day,
and hope thus to conquer the nervous weak-
ness which the adventure had left. Yesterday
I rode round Grasmereand Rydal L&ke; it was
a glorious evening, and the imaged heaven in
MRS. HEMANS. 123
the waters more completely filled my mind even
to overflowing, than I think any object in nature
ever did before : I quite longed for you : we
should have stood in silence before the magni-
ficent vision for an hour, as it flushed and faded,
and darkened at last into the deep sky of a
summer night. I thought of the scriptural expres-
sion, ' A sea of glass mingled with fire;' no other
words are fervid enough to Convey the least im-
pression of what lay burning before me." . .
" Dove Nest, near Ambleside, July 6th, 1830.
" My dear ,
44 I think I was never so glad to hear from
you, as when Claude and Henry brought me
your kind and welcome letter on Saturday. I
had been thinking of you so frequently since
my arrival here, and so earnestly wishing to tell
you all my feelings on taking possession of this
lovely little bower, that I almost seemed, by the
G <2
124 MEMORIALS OF
strong power of mind, to have brought you near ;
and it really was like hearing the pleasant voice
of a dear friend to receive your letter just then.
How shall I tell you of all the loveliness by
which I am surrounded, of all the soothing and
holy influence it seems shedding down into my
inmost heart ? I have sometimes feared within
the last two years, that the effect of suffering
and adulation, and feelings too highly wrought,
and too severely tried, would have been to dry
up within me the fountains of such pure and
simple enjoyment ; but now I know that
f Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her.' —
I can think of nothing but what is pure, and
true, and kind, and my eyes are filled with
grateful tears even whilst I am writing all this
to you — to you, because I know you will under-
stand me. I want nothing here but the spirit
of a friend to answer the feelings of my own —
that is indeed a want which throws some shade
MRS. HEMANS. 125
of sadness over this beautiful world, but I feel
it far more bitterly amidst the world of society,
where I find so many things to shrink from.
Yet I think I never desired to talk to you so
much and so often, as since I came here. I
must try to describe my little nest, since J can-
not call spirits from the • vasty lake' to bring
you hither through the air. The house was ori-
ginally meant for a small villa, though it has
long since passed into the hands of farmers, and
there is in consequence an air of neglect about
the little domain, which does not at all approach
desolation, and yet gives it something of touch-
ing interest. You see everywhere traces of
love and care beginning to be effaced : rose-trees
spreading into wildness ; laurels darkening the
windows, with too luxuriant branches ; and I
cannot help saying to myself — 6 perhaps some
heart like my own in its feelings and sufferings
has here sought refuge and found repose.' The
ground is laid out in rather an antiquated style,
which, now that nature is beginning to reclaim
126 . MEMORIALS OF
it from art, I do not at all dislike : there is a little
grassy terrace immediately under the window,
descending to a small court with a circular grass
plot, on which grows one tall white rose-tree ;
you cannot imagine how I delight in that fair,
solitajjy, neglected-looking tree. I am writing
to you from an old-fashioned alcove in the little
garden, round which the sweet-briar and moss
rose-tree have completely run wild, and I look
down from it upon lovely Winandermere, which
seems at this moment even like another sky, so
truly is every summer cloud and tint of azure
pictured in its transparent mirror. It is quite
a place in which to hear Mr. Wordsworth read
poetry. Have I ever told you how much his
reading and recitation have delighted me ? His
voice has something quite breeze-like in the soft
gradation of its swells and falls. How I wish
you could have heard it a few evenings since I
We had just returned from riding through the
deep valley of Grasmere, and were talking of
different natural sounds, which in the stillness of
MRS. HEMANS. 127
the evening had struck my imagination. 4 Per-
haps,' I said, < there may be still deeper and
richer music pervading all nature than any which
we are permitted to hear.' He answered by re-
citing those glorious lines of Milton's —
? Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth,
Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep/ &c.
And his tones of solemn earnestness, sinking, al-
most dying away into a murmur of veneration,
as if the passage were breathed forth from the
heart, I shall never forget ; ' the forest leaves
seemed stirred with prayer,' while those high
thoughts were uttered. I have been writing to
you in a most child-like and confiding spirit,
shall I not have tired you out with my details ?
— no, I will not think so.
" I do not feel as if I had said half that was
in my mind to say ; I should have thanked you
sooner for all those spirit-stirring tales from the
128 MEMORIALS OF
early annals of England ; they will afford me
' food for thought' some future day, and I have
always pleasure in knowing what reading in-
terests you ; but I think my spirit is too much
lulled by these sweet scenes to breathe one
song of sword and spear until I have bid Win-
andermere farewell : Ned Bolton # was the last
hero by whose exploits I have been in the least
moved. My boys are so happy here, I wish you
could see them. Henry out with his fishing-rod,
and Charles sketching, and Claude climbing the
hill above the Nest. I cannot follow, for I have
not strength yet, but I think in feeling I am
more a child than any of them.
" Now I must say good-bye, and reserve
many things till I write again, which will be very
soon.
" Ever believe me,
" Most truly yours,
" Felicia Hemans."
* The pirate-hero of one of Mr. Kennedy's spirited
ballads.
MRS. HEMANS. 129
The following postscript to one of the letters
written from Dove Nest may here be inserted ;
its subject furnishes a pleasant contrast to the
vivacity of the next extract.
" I must tell you how very much Mr. Words-
worth was pleased with ' The St. Cecilia,' par-
ticularly with the nightingale verse."
The lines in question (afterwards published
among the " National Lyrics") were written to
illustrate a picture of St. Cecilia with attendant
angels, by Andrea Celesti. Mrs. Hemans had
been much struck with the mingled calmness
and inspiration which her apprehensive imagina-
tion had discovered, and greatly enhanced, in
the countenance of the principal figure. She
always loved to trace an under-current of sad-
ness, some dim intimation of a world unseen
and spiritual, even in the gayest and most care-
less music, and the serenity of the countenance
of St. Cecilia had strongly impressed her mind
g 5
130 MEMORIALS OF
by its contrast with so favourite a superstition ;
the impression gave its colour to her poem.
The second verse of the following was Mr.
Wordsworth's favourite.
" Say, by what strain, through cloudless ether swell-
ing.
Thou hast drawn down those wanderers from the
skies ?
Bright guests ! even such as left of yore their dwelling
For the deep cedar shades of Paradise.
" What strain?— Oh! not the nightingale's, when
showering
Her own heart's life-drops on the burning lay —
She stirs the young woods in their time of flowering,
And pours her strength, but not her grief, away.
rt And not the exile's," &c. &c.
" But thou !— the spirit which at eve is filling
All the hushed air, and reverential sky,
MRS. HEMANS. 131
Founts, leaves, and flowers, with solemn rapture
thrilling,
This is the soul of thy rich harmony.
" This bears up high those breathings of devotion,
Wherein the currents of thy heart gush free ;
Therefore no world of sad and vain emotion,
Is the dream-haunted music-land for thee !"
" Dove Nest.
* " My dear ,
" I have too long left unacknowledged your
welcome letter, but the wicked world does so
continue to persecute me with notes, and parcels,
and dispatches, that, even here, I cannot find
half the leisure you would imagine. Yesterday
I had three visiting cards — upon which I look
with a fearful and boding eye — left at the house,
whilst I was sitting, in the innocency of my
heart, thinking no harm, by the side of the lake.
Imagine visiting cards at Dove's Nest ! Robinson
Crusoe's dismay at seeing the print of the man's
132 MEMORIALS OF
foot in the sand could have been nothing, abso-
lutely nothing, to mine, when these evil tokens of
'young ladies with pink parasols' met my dis-
tracted sight, on my return from the shore. En
revanche, however, I have just received the most
exquisite letter ever indited by the pen of man,
from a young American, who being an inhabitant
of No. , , is certainly not likely to trou-
ble me with anything more than his ' spiritual at-
tachment,' as Mr. of is pleased to call
it. He, that is, my American, must certainly not
be the 6 walking-stick,' but the very leaping -
pole of friendship. Pray read, mark, learn, and
promulgate for the benefit of the family, the fol-
lowing delectable passage. * How often have I
sung some touching stanza of your own, as 1
rode on horseback of a Saturday evening, from
the village academy to my house a little distance
out of town ; and saw through the waving cedars
and pines, the bark roof and the open door of
some pleasant wigwam, where the young comely
maidens were making their curious baskets, or
MRS. HEMANS. 133
mocasins, or wampum-belts, and singing their
4 To-gas-a-wana, or evening song P How often
have I murmured ' Bring flowers ' or the * Voice
of Spring,' as thus I pondered along! How
often have I stood on the shore of the Cayuga,
the Seneca, the Oneida, and the Skanateles, and
called to mind the sweetness of your strains !'
I see you are enchanted, my dear — — , but
this is not all : ' the lowliest of my admirers,' as
the amiable youth entitles himself, begs permis-
sion to be for once my ' cordonnierj and is about
to send me a pair of Indian mocasins, with my
' illustrious name interwoved in the buckskin
of which they are composed, with wampum
beads.' If I receive this precious gift before I
return to Liverpool, I shall positively make my
appearance, en squaw, the very first evening I
come to street; and pray tell Dr.
that with these mocasins, and a blanket to cor-
respond, I shall certainly be able to defy all the
rigours of the ensuing winter. I am much dis-
appointed to find that there is no prospect of
134 MEMORIALS OF
your visiting this lovely country. I am sure
that nothing would do so much good as a
brief return to its glorious scenery: there is
balm in the very stillness of the spot I have
chosen. The c majestic silence' of these lakes,
perfectly soundless and waveless as they are, ex-
cept when troubled by the wind, is to me most
impressive. O what a poor thing is society in
the presence of skies and waters and everlasting
hills ! You may be sure I do not allude to the
dear intercourse of friend with friend — that
would be dearer tenfold — more precious, more
hallowed in scenes like this. Oh ! how I wish
you were here !"....
In inserting the following letter, as well
as two or three others which will be found
in a later section of these memorials, a word of
explanation, perhaps of apology, is requisite. It,
and they are published for the sake of the ex-
MRS. HEMANS. 135
cellent truths they contain, too valuable to
be withheld, — by one who has passed through the
struggle —from those who may be aspiring after
the precarious honours, and are willing to en-
counter the certain cares of literary life, in
preference to undertaking the duties of some
profession less exciting, more steady, and more
profitable. The following was addressed to the
writer upon the intervention of an obstacle
which bade fair to destroy for ever the hopes
and dreams of many years.
" Dove Nest, July 11th.
" My dear ,
" I am sure you will believe that I have
read your letter with a full and most sincere
participation of the varied feelings it expresses.
As for your imps, poor dear little things ! so
great is my compassion for them, that I, even I,
would at this moment of tender feeling, will-
ingly uncork them all, though I believe the con-
sequences would be little less awful than those
136 MEMORIALS OF
of emptying the bag of winds. But to speak
more seriously,
c Let nought prevail against you, nor disturb
Your cheerful faith/
You will not be c cribbed and cabined ' by the
influence of your daily toils : no, you will rise
from them, as all minds gifted for worthier
things have risen, with a pure and buoyant joy,
into a world where they cannot enter. Tell me
one instance of a generous spirit, .....
which has sunk under the mere necessity for
steadfast and manly exertion. Many, many, I
believe, have been lost and bewildered for want
of having this clear path marked out for them.
I am convinced that you will be all the better
for having your track so defined, and for know-
ing when and where you may turn aside from
it to gather flowers upon which no soil of earthi-
ness will have fallen. I could not write thus, if
I thought that one precious gift was to be sacri-
ficed to the employment upon which you have
MRS. HEMANS. 137
entered. You know that I believe you to be
endowed with powers for the attainment of ex-
cellence, and where such powers do exist, I also
believe them to be unconquerable. How very
gravely have I written to you ! If you were
sitting here beside me, I could hardly have
spoken so: but I really have only wished to
cheer and comfort 'my trusty cousin,' and I
know he will not let me prove a false pro-
phetess, However, I think that there is but
little danger, and that with the prospect of your
immediately commencing the and then
composing the .... and writing out
the Italian tale, besides about fifty pretty little
entremets, of which I know nothing, the poor
imps may take comfort in their bottles on the
mantel-piece, while the 'Jish do their duty ' in
the fryingpan below I am now writing
a rather longer piece, though but slowly, and
when it is completed I mean to send up one of
your poems with it; I hope my compliance
with his request will have so pleased him, that
138 MEMORIALS OF
he will see a thousand beauties in the com-
position of the c proper useful young man ' by
whom mine will be escorted. I wish that
same useful young man was near me just at
present: I am going out upon the lake with
the boys, and if our united giddiness does
not get us into some difficulty or other, it will
be sufficiently marvellous. To be sure I shall
keep the precious mocasin letter— it will be
the very key-stone of our edifice.* Do you
know that I was actually found out here last
night by a party of American travellers. . . .
O words of fear ! — and they came and stayed all
the evening with me, and I was obliged to play
Vaimable, and receive compliments, &c. &c. &c,
here, even here, on the very edge of Winander-
mere. In other respects, I am leading the most
primitive life — we literally ■ take no note of
time/ as there happens to be no clock in the
* Mrs. Hemans had often spoken playfully of making
a collection of the whimsical letters with which she
was assailed.
MRS. HEMANS. 139
house. To be sure we get an eleemosynary
pinch of time now and then, (as one might a
pinch of snuff,) when any one happens to call
with a watch, but that is a rare event
I shall be anxious to hear from you again,
and to know that the imps are in a happier
state
" Ever your very faithful cousin,
« F. H."
" I believe I shall have to trouble you and
— and to make me up a parcel before
long : Mr. Wordsworth wants to read a little of
Schiller with me, and he is not to be had at
Ambleside; and I want some chocolate — and
that cannot be had at Ambleside — and a black
silk spencer, after divers ' moving accidents by
field and flood,' wants a rifacciamento — neither
can that be had at the all-needing Amble-
side ; but I must write the affecting particulars
to ."
140 MEMORIALS OF
" Dove Nest.
* " My dear ,
" I must frankly own that it is my necessi-
ties which impel me so soon to address you
again. From the various dilapidations which my
wardrobe has endured since I came into this
country, I am daily assuming more and more
the appearance of 'a decayed gentlewoman;'
and if you could only behold me in a certain
black gown, which came with me here in all the
freshness of youth, your tender heart would be
melted into tearful compassion. The ebony
bloom of the said dress is departed for ever : the
waters of Winandermere, (thrown up by oars in
unskilful hands,) have splashed and dashed over
it, the rains of Rvdal have soaked it, the winds
from Helm-crag have wrinkled it, and it is alto-
gether somewhat in the state of
' Violets plucked, which sweetest showers,
May ne'er make grow again.'
Three vards of black silk, however, will, I be-
MRS. HEMANS. 141
lieve, restore me to respectability of appearance,
if will add a supply of cho-
colate, without which there is no getting through
the fatigue of existence for me — and if or
your brother will also send me a volume or
two of Schiller — not the plays, but the poems —
to read with Mr. Wordsworth, I shall then
have a complete brown-paper full of happiness.
Imagine, my dear , a bridal present made
by Mr. Wordsworth, to a young lady in whom
he is much interested — a poet's daughter, too !
You will be thinking of a broach in the shape
of a lyre, or a butterfly-shaped aigrette, or a
forget-me-not ring, or some such * small gear ' —
nothing of the sort, but a good, handsome, sub-
stantial, useful-looking pair of scales, to hang
up in her store-room ! ' For you must be
aware, my dear Mrs. Hemans,' said he to me
very gravely, * how necessary it is occasionally
for every lady to see things weighed herself/
« Poveretta me !* I looked as good as I could,
and, happily for me, the poetic eyes are not very
142 MEMORIALS OF
clear-sighted, so that I believe no suspicion de-
rogatory to my notability of character, has yet
flashed upon the mighty masters mind : indeed
I told him that I looked upon scales as particu-
larly graceful things, and had great thoughts of
having my picture taken with a pair in my
hand." ....
? Dove Nest Cottage, Ambleside, July 20th, 1830.
" My dear Mr. L ,
" A letter which I received this morning from
Liverpool mentions your having returned home,
and I will therefore no longer delay writing to
you, as you may perhaps wish to know my pre-
sent address. I fear you have given up your
intention of visiting the Lakes, as your last letter
made no mention of it. The weather is indeed
any thing but alluring, though there are few,
even of the most lowering days here, among
which one cannot get out of doors in a paren-
MRS. HEMANS. 143
thesis, such as the culinary regions where you
now are very seldom afford. I am anxious to
know whether you received my little volume,
which was sent for you to the Athenaeum : very
little of its contents would be new to you,
though the arrangement of the whole might, I
hope, afford you some pleasure. You were quite
right about the name of 'my Cid,' as the old
Spanish chroniclers call him : it is Diaz, and
not Diar, and he is a personage for whom I have
so much respect, that it would have grieved me
to see his 'style and title' falsified. I remained
at Mr. Wordsworth's rather more than a fort-
night, and then came to my present residence,
a lonely, but beautifully situated cottage on the
banks of Winandermere. I am so much de-
lighted with the spot, that I scarcely know how
I shall leave it The situation is one of the
deepest retirement ; but the bright lake before
me, with all its fairy barks and sails, glancing
like 'things of life* over its blue water, prevents
the solitude from being overshadowed by any
144 MEMORIALS OF
thing like sadness. I contrive to see Mr.
Wordsworth frequently, but am little disturbed
by other visitors : only the other evening, just
as I was about to go forth upon the lake, a card
was brought to me. Think of my be-
ing found out by American tourists in Dove's
Nest ! * I wish , and , and , (for
they were all impending over me,) were in the
arms of Helvellyn and Catchedicam !' exclaimed
I, most irreverently : but however, they brought
credentials I could not but acknowledge. The
young ladies, as I feared, brought an Album
concealed in their shawls, and it was levelled at
me like a pocket-pistol before all was over.
When you see Mrs. , will you tell her
that I have just had a very kind and pleasant
letter from Lady Dacre : tell her, also, that I
am going to read some of Schiller with Mr.
Wordsworth. I know that she will understand
that high enjoyment." . . .
MRS. HEMANS. 145
" Dove Nest, Thursday.
" My dear Mr. ,
" Having received 's parcel in safety, I
have now two kind letters to thank you for . . .
Will you tell , with my best remembrance,
that Mr. Wordsworth thinks he shall be quite
able to read the small edition of Schiller : he is
now gone for a few days to his friend Lord
Lowther's ; but I hope, on his return, to read
with him some of my own Jlrst loves in Schiller —
'The Song of the Bell,' 'Cassandra,' or <Thek-
la's Spirit-voice,"* with none of which he is ac-
quainted. Indeed, I think he is inclined to
undervalue German literature from not knowing
its best and purest master-pieces, f Goethe's
writings cannot live,' he one day said to me, 4 be-
cause ' they are not holy P I found that he had
unfortunately adopted this opinion from an at-
tempt to read Wilhelm Meister, which had in-
spired him with irrepressible disgust. However,
I shall try to bring him into a better way of
VOL. II. h
146 MEMORIALS OF
thinking, if only out of my own deep love for
what has been to me a source of intellectual joy
so cheering and elevating. I did not accomplish
my visit to Coniston last Saturday ; the < cloud
land' was too impervious to be entered. . . .
Is it not very strange, and hateful, and weariful,
that, wherever I go, some odd old creature is
sure to fall in love with me just out of spite ? I
am quite sure that if I went to Preston, Miss
(do you remember that long, thin, deadly-
looking mansion with her name on the door ?)
would attach herself to me with the adhesive
pertinacity of the Old Man of the Sea. This
is really a part of my miseries which I do not
think you have ever taken into proper con-
sideration, or sympathised with as the case de-
serves. If you would but pity me enough, you
cannot imagine how consolatory I should find
it
" You would scarcely know Charles if you
were to see him now ; he has broken forth into
almost tameless vivacity. He wants very much
MRS. HEMANS. 147
to write to you, but I thought, as you hear from
me so often, it would not be necessary to impose
upon you so juvenile a correspondent. I was
greatly shocked a few days since to hear of the
death of Mrs. at Florence. It seemed
quite suddenly, in one of those spasms of the
heart which the physicians had predicted would
end fatally ; and Mr. has returned alone
to England. Just at this time last year I was
with them, witnessing all their preparations for
their Italian journey. I remember his being
very much affected by a verse which I played
and sung —
' She faded 'midst Italian flowers,
The last of that bright band.'
I have got into a shocking habit, for which you
will not thank me, of crossing my letters ; but I
always fancy I have so much to say when I
write to you, that the paper is never half long
enough. Will you tell that I shall cer-
tainly make her first lady of the wardrobe, for
her skill in choosing silks, whenever my long-
h 2
148 MEMORIALS OF
expected accession to the throne takes place. I
am going this evening, for two or three days, to
Grasmere ; but if 1 do not fall into Dungeon
Ghyll, which I am to visit thence, I shall be
back at Dove's Nest on Sunday.
" Ever faithfully yours,
" Felicia Hemans."
After having remained for some weeks at
Dove Nest, Mrs. Hemans was induced, by
pressing invitations, again to visit Scotland. Of
this second northern journey, I have but few
memorials: the greater part of her time was
spent at Milburn Tower, the seat of her vene-
rable friend, Sir Robert Liston,— whence the
following fragments were written.
" Mr. Jeffrey called upon me yesterday, and
I was unluckily gone to Edinburgh, but;we dine
with him on Friday. I anticipate much enjoy-
ment from his brilliance, but do hope he will not
MRS. HEMANS. 149
quiz Wordsworth.* I could not bear that after
the affectionate interest shown me by the latter,
and continued to the very last moment of my
stay in the neighbourhood. . . I rejoice that
you have been so much pleased with Miss Kem-
ble, it is so delightful to submit one's mind, fully,
entirely to the spell of genius. I never could
understand the pleasure of criticising. I have
one thing more to say before I conclude. You
will probably, in consequence of my visit to
Scotland, hear reports with regard to a change
of residence for me ; be assured, that feeling
towards you as towards a most valued friend, I
* The following extract from a subsequent letter
refers to the visit in question.
" We passed a delightful day, our host being in the
full glow of conversation, unequalled in rapid bril-
liance of imagery and illustration, (something like
Paganini's lightning passages ;) yet so easy, playful,
and natural, that its brightness never seemed in the
least fatiguing, which that of almost all the other spark,
ling people I ever met, at some time or other appeared
to me."
150 MEMORIALS OF
should communicate to you any change of im-
portance on which I had resolved, and therefore
believe nothing that you do not hear from my-
self.
" Most truly yours,
" F. Hemans."
..." Imagine my dismay on visiting Mr. Flet-
cher's sculpture-room, on beholding at least six
Mrs. Hemans, placed as if to greet me in every
direction. There is something absolutely fright-
ful in this multiplication of one's self to infinity.
Apropos de bottes, Mr. Fletcher is anxious to
know whether his ' images', as Mr. 's ser-
vants call them, are well placed in the Liverpool
exhibition, and I promised that I would ask you
to call there some day and judge for him. Will
you write and let me know ? Oh how I wish you
could be here ! how you would love this fair
place with all its gorgeous flowers and leafy
stillness!"
MRS. HEMANS. 151
It was during this visit at Milburn Tower,
that Mrs. Hemans formed a friendship, which
led her to visit Dublin on her way homeward ;
and ultimately to decide on removing her resi-
dence from Wavertree to that city. The change,
it will be seen, was, on the whole, beneficial.
She was sure to attach to herself kind and
energetic friends wherever she went ; and no re-
sidence in a town could be more thoroughly
exhausting and unprofitable than was hers at
Wavertree — a village, but possessing not one
single privilege or advantage which belongs to
the country. Before, however, this step was
finally arranged, Mrs. Hemans passed over into
Wales, — the last time she ever visited the home
of her youth, — to consult her brother upon the
subject : and it was late in the year ere she re-
returned to us, with the saddening news that
her departure from our neighbourhood was
determined upon.
152 MEMORIALS OF
CHAPTER V.
Fragments of correspondence — Journey through An-
glesey — Aurora Borealis — Light-house — Passage
from Mr. Bowdler's writings— Monument by Thor-
waldsen — Personification in art and poetry — Goethe
—Rogers ' f * Italy "—Titian's portraits— Longevity
of artists — Lessons in music — Evening spent with a
celebrated linguist — Mr. Roscoe — Mr. Hare's pam-
phlets — Gibbon's H Sappho"— Character of Mrs. He-
mans in the "Athenaeum" — Life and Letters of
Weber — The repose of old portraits — Young's Ham-
let — The Cyclops proved light-houses — Howitt's
"Book of the Seasons" — Poetical tributes — Wan-
dering female singer — Wearisome dinner-party —
Mrs. Hemans' pleasure in composing melodies —
" Prayer at Sea after Battle" — Preparations for her
departure from England — Shelley's poems— Vulgar
MRS. HEMANS. 153
patronage — Collection of drawings — "Tancredi" —
Discontinuance of pensions from the Royal Society
of Literature.
The winter which followed this long absence,
so important in its consequences to the happi-
ness of the few remaining years of Mrs. Hemans'
life, on the whole, passed over rather sadly.
The state of a person about to make any change
in life, be it only a change of residence, must
always be one of unsettlement and restraint:
the mind is strangely divided between what it is
giving up, and what it is hoping to gain ; and it
is difficult to sit down and undisturbedly enjoy
the passing hours when they are felt to be last
hours. It is true that Mrs. Hemans constantly
spoke of frequent visits to England; that she
fancied the distance between Liverpool and
Dublin was not so great as finally to close,
though it might interrupt, her intercourse with
those who, for so long a time, had been] almost
her daily companions ; — but the old communion
was broken, and we could not but feel, that
h 5
154 MEMORIALS OF
though she still remained among us, as gracious,
as affectionate as ever, her thoughts were ho-
vering round the new home, in which she looked
to find the repose and the shelter which had
been denied to her in our busy, commercial
neighbourhood. In procuring the advantages of
education for her sons, she expected, and with
reason, to be more fortunate than she had been
in Liverpool.
Of the fragments of correspondence which
follow, the larger portion were addressed to one
of her new Irish friends. They require no fur-
ther prefatory remark.
" I thought Anglesey, through which I tra-
velled the next day, without exception, the most
dreary, culinary-looking land of prose I ever
beheld. I strove in vain to conjure up the
ghost of a Druid, or even of a tree, on its wide
mountainous plains, which, I really think, Na-
ture must have produced to rest herself after the
MRS. HEMANS. 155
strong excitement of composing the Caernarvon-
shire hills. But I cannot tell you how much I
wanted to express my feelings when at last that
bold mountain-chain rose upon me, in all its
grandeur, with the crowning Snowdon, (very su-
perior, I assure you, in c shape and feature,' to
our friend Ben Lomond,) maintaining his 'pride
of place' above the whole ridge. And the
Menai bridge, which I thought I should scarcely
have noticed in the presence of those glorious
heights, really seems, from its magnificence, a
native feature of the scene, and nobly asserts
the pre-eminence of mind above all other things.
I could scarcely have conceived such an union
of strength and grace ; and its chain- work is so
airy in appearance, that to drive along it seems
almost like passing through the trellis of a
bower : it is quite startling to look down from
any thing which looks so fragile, to the immense
depth below My journey lay along
the sea-shore rather late at night, and I was
surprised by quite a splendid vision of the
156 MEMORIALS OF
northern lights, on the very spot where I had
once, and once only, before seen them in early
childhood. They shot up like slender pillars of
white light, with a sort of arrowy motion, from
a dark cloud above the sea; their colour varied,
in ascending, from that of silver to a faint orange,
and then a very delicate green : and sometimes
the motion was changed, and they chased each
other along the edge of the cloud, with a daz-
zling brightness and rapidity. I was almost
startled by seeing them there again ; and after so
long an interval of thoughts and years, it was
like the effect produced by a sudden burst of
familiar and yet long-forgotten music."
" I did not observe any object of interest on
my voyage from Wales, excepting a new beacon
at the extremity of the Liverpool Rock, and
which I thought a good deal like the pictures of
the Eddystone light-house. There was some-
thing to me particularly stern and solemn in its
MRS. HEMANS. 157
appearance, as it rose darkly against a very wild
sky, like a 'pillar of cloud' with a capital of
deep-coloured fire : but perhaps the gloom and
stormy effect of the evening might have very
much aided the impression left upon my fancy."
" Your opinion of the 6 Spirit's Return' has
given me particular pleasure, because I prefer
that poem to anything else I have written : but
if there be, as my friends say, a greater power
in it than 1 had before evinced, I paid dearly
for the discovery, and it almost made me
tremble as I sounded 'the deep places' of my
soul."
* "I have just been much struck with this
passage, from a work of the late John Bowdler's :
* I cannot but point to this passage as indicating
the first dawning of that healthier and loftier state of
mindj to which Mrs. Hemans rose during the few last
years of her life. She had always been submissive to
158 MEMORIALS OF
I cannot help, in some measure, applying it to
myself: — * Could the veil which now separates
us from futurity be drawn aside, and those re-
gions of everlasting happiness and sorrow which
strike so faintly on the imagination be pre-
sented fully to our eyes, it would occasion, I
doubt not, a sudden and strange revolution in
our estimate of things. Many are the distresses
for which we now weep in suffering or sympathy,
that would awaken us to songs of thanksgiving ;
many the dispensations which now seem dreary
and inexplicable, that would fill our adoring
hearts with thanksgiving and joy.' "
" Truly, in this capital to the land of Prose,
there is not much to gratify a feeling for the
beautiful ; but I should have liked you to have
been with me a few days since, when I went to
the vicissitudes of her lot : but she had yet to learn to
contemplate them with serenity.
MRS. HEMANS. 159
visit a monument by Thorwaldsen, lately arrived
here. It represents a dying female, supported
by her husband, who is bending over her. No-
thing can be more admirable than the perfect
abandon of her figure, the utter, desolate help-
lessness of the sinking head and hands, so true
and yet so graceful : it is like looking at a
broken flower. But, unfortunately, the sculptor
has thought proper to introduce a man with
wings and an hour-glass, at the foot of the
couch, looking not one bit more ideal than the
man without wings at the head. Now I never
could, in my severest illness and most visionary
state of mind, imagine either Time or Eternity
entering my room with the doctor or one of my *
brothers, and standing at my bed-side: and I
heartily wish that some skilful exorcist would
banish these evil genii from the realms of paint-
ing and sculpture altogether, and lay them qui-
etly, with other goblins, at the bottom of the Red
Sea." ....
160 MEMORIALS OF
Mrs. Hemans' dislike to all allegorical per-
sonification was great. I hardly remember, even
in her very earliest poems, — written at the time
when, paradoxical as it may seem, the most ar-
tificial forms and images are most in request — a
single instance of her having recourse to the
Muses, or the Graces, or the Virtues, or any of
the established divinities. In another letter,
written about this time, she gaily says, " I quite
agree with you as to personification in poetry.
I would send them all, from the ' Nymph with
placid eye, 1 even to ' Inoculation, heavenly maid,"*
along with the marble Times and Eternities,
down the Red Sea, for ever and a day."
The next note, it will be seen, refers to the
same subject
" My dear ,
" I was very remiss in not sooner acknow-
ledging the arrival of the little parcel duly con-
veyed by Claude, and thus causing you so much
additional trouble; but I came home late and
MRS. HEMANS. 161
tired on Friday evening, which prevented my
writing, and I had a vague idea I should see
some of you on Sunday.
" I went with Mrs. to town the other
day, and found she was going to visit Thorwald-
sen's work. I was sorry to relinquish the idea
of seeing it with you, but its beauty, truth, and
simplicity charmed me greatly. The only thing
I disliked was the man with wings, whom I
thought very inferior to the man without them,
on the other side of the monument ; but the per-
fect abandon of the dying figure is admirable.
I think the subject you suggested for sculpture,
though a very noble one, would rather want
some central point, something for the eye and
mind to rally round at once. What can we have
for the principal figure ? We must decide upon
this point when next we meet, which I hope will
be very soon. Poor Goethe ! how sad to think
that so calmly bright a career should have so
stormy a close ! It will be almost like parting
with a familiar face to know that he is indeed
162 MEMORIALS OF
gone. I had read the passage to which you re-
fer in c Carlyle,' and mentioned it to my informant,
on the subject of his infidelity ; but no argument
could pierce through the thick mantle of self-
complacency in which he had been pleased to
wrap himself." . . .
The prospect of Goethe's death was a thing
deeply to affect one who valued his writings with
such entire and reverential sincerity as Mrs.
Hemans. A few months previous to this time,
she had collected the best of her poems, with
the intention of offering them to the sage of
Weimar : some chance or misadventure, how-
ever, prevented their reaching their destination.
. . . . " Have you seen Rogers' ' Italy, 1
with its exquisite embellishments ? The whole
book seems to me quite a triumph of art and
taste; some of Turner's Italian scenes, with
their moon-lit vestibules and pillared arcades, the
MRS. HEMANS. 163
shadows of which seem almost trembling on
the ground as you look at them, really might be
fit representations of Armida's enchanted gar-
dens : and there is one view of the temples of
Paestum, standing in their severe and lonely
grandeur on the shore, and lit up by a flash of
lightning, which brought to my mind those lines
of Byron,
f As 1 gazed, the place
Became Religion, and the heart ran o'er
With silent worship of the great of old.' "
. . . . " I have not yet read Northcote's
Life of Titian, but I was much struck with a
passage I lately saw quoted from it, relating to
that piercing intellectual eagle-look which I have
so often remarked in Titian's portraits. ' It is
the intense personal character,' Northcote says,
1 which gives the superiority to those portraits
over all others, and stamps them with a living
and permanent interest. Whenever you turn to
look at them, they appear to be looking at you.
164 MEMORIALS OF
There seems to be some question pending be-
tween you, as if an intimate friend or an invete-
rate foe were in the room with you. They
exert a kind of fascinating power, and there is
that exact resemblance in individual nature
which is always new and always interesting/ I
suppose it was a feeling of this kind which made
Fuseli exclaim on seeing Titian's picture of
Paul the Third with his two nephews, ' that is
history !' "
. . . " The account which you sent me
of the longevity of artists, (a privilege which I,
at least, am far from envying them,) seemed con-
firmed or rather accounted for, in some degree,
by a paper I was reading on the same day. It
is written, with great enthusiasm, on the * Plea-
sures of Painting/ and the author (Hazlitt, I
believe) describes the studies of the artist as
a kind of sanctuary, a ' city of refuge ' from
worldly strife, envy and littleness ; and his com-
munion with nature as sufficient to fill the void,
MRS. HEMANS. 165
and satisfy all the cravings of heart and soul.
I wonder if this indeed can be ; I should like to
go by night with a magician to the Coliseum, (as
Benvenuto Cellini did,) and call up the spirits
of those mighty Italian artists, and make them
all tell me whether they had been happy ; but
it would not do to forget, as he also did (have
you ever read those strange memoirs of his ?)
the spell by which the ghosts were laid, as the
consequences were extremely disagreeable." . .
# "lam taking lessons in music
from James Z. Herrmann, who comes to me
* This gentleman, an artist in the best sense of the
word, had already set two of Mrs. Hemans' songs to
music of a very high order. The " Far away" is one
of the most exquisite things we have in the shape of
music joined with English words; and the " Dirge at
Sea," (though almost placed out of popular reach by
the difficulty of its accompaniment,) is a noble and
characteristic song to some of her most spirited words.
Opportunity and energy are alone wanting to place
Mr. Herrmann in the first rank of modern composers.
166 MEMORIALS OF
every week, and I should like him as a master ex-
ceedingly, were it not that I am sure I give him
the toothache whenever I play a wrong note,
and a sympathising pang immediately shoots
through my own compassionate heart. I am
learning Pergolesi's noble ' Stabat Mater,' which
realizes all that I could dream of religious
music, and which derives additional interest from
its being the last work in which the master-
spirit breathed forth its enthusiasm." . . .
....." Since I last wrote to you, I
have received a visit from a remarkable person,
with whom I should like to make you acquaint-
ed His mind is full, even to over-
flowing, of intelligence and original thought. It
is -, the distinguished linguist, of whom I
shall speak : besides his calling upon me, I also
passed an evening in his society, and he talked
to me the whole time. I do not know when I have
MRS. HEMANS. 167
heard such a flow of varying conversation — odd
— original— brilliant— animating; — any and every
one of these epithets might be applied to it ; it
is like having & flood of mind poured out upon
you, and that, too, evidently from the strong ne-
cessity of setting the current free, not from any
design to shine or overpower. I think I was
most interested in his descriptions of Spain, a
country where he has lived much, and to which
he is strongly attached ; he spoke of the songs
which seem to Jill the airs of the south, from the
constant improvisation of the people at their
work; he described as a remarkable feature of
the scenery the little rills and water-courses
which were led through the fields and gardens,
and even over every low wall, by the Moors of
Andalusia, and which yet remain, making the
whole country vocal with pleasant sounds of
waters ; he told me also several striking anec-
dotes of a bandit chief in Murcia, a sort of
Spanish Rob] Roy, who has carried on his pre-
datory warfare there for many years, and is so
168 MEMORIALS OF
adored by the peasantry, for whose sake he
plunders the rich, that it is impossible for the
government ever to seize upon him. Some ex-
pressions of the old Biscayan language, the
Basque he called it, which he translated for me,
I thought beautifully poetical. The sun is
called, in that language, ' that which pours the
day,' and the moon, ' the light of the dead.'
Well, from Spain he travelled, or rather shot
off, like Robin Good-fellow, who could
' put a girdle round about the earth
In forty minutes/
away to Iceland, and told me of his having seen
there a MS. recording the visit of an Icelandic
prince to the court of our old Saxon king, Athel-
stan — then to Paris — (not the Iceland prince,
but ) — Brussels — Warsaw — with a sort of
' Open Sesame,' for the panorama of each court
and kingdom. All I had to complain of was,
that, being used to a sort of steam-boat rapidity,
both in bodily and mental movements, ,
MRS. HEMANS. 169
while gallantly handing me from one room to
another, rushed into a sort of gallopade which
nearly took my breath away. On mentioning
this afterwards to a gentleman who had been
of the party, he said, * What could you expect
from a man who has been handing armed Croats
instead of ladies, from one tent to another ? for
I believe it is not very long since my ubiquitous
friend visited Hungary/ A striking contrast to
all this, was a visit I lately paid to old Mr.
Roscoe, who may be considered quite as the
father of literature in this part of the world,
though it must be owned that his child is at
present in anything but a flourishing state.
However, he is a delightful old man, with a fine
Roman style of head, which he had adorned with
a green velvet cap to receive me in, because, as
he playfully said, i he knew I always admired
him in it' Altogether he put me rather in
mind of one of Rembrandt's pictures, and as he
sat in his quiet study, surrounded by busts, and
books, and flowers, and with a beautiful cast of
VOL- VI. I
170 MEMORIALS OF
r
Canova's Psyche in the back-ground, I thought
that a painter who wished to make old age look
touching and venerable, could not have had a
better subject. I must, however, confess my
ill-behaviour, notwithstanding all the respect
with which the scene inspired me. The good
old gentleman was showing me a series of en-
gravings from the early Italian masters, and
pointing out very gravely the characteristic dif-
ferences of style, when, all at once, upon his un-
rolling one which represents Hercules distress-
ingly placed between a dowdy Virtue, and a
great fat Pleasure, I was so strongly reminded
of a scene which you may remember, that I
burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Mr.
Roscoe, a good deal perplexed apparently, asked
the cause, and as it was impossible to ex-
plain to him the whole mystery, I could only
reply, looking as good as I could, * that it really
was impossible to help laughing at Pleasure's
gouty-looking feet.' "
MRS. HEMANS. 171
. . . . " I send you two pamphlets by
Mr. Julius Hare, (a friend of Wordsworth's,)
which I think you will admire for their high
tone of eloquence ; although the subject of one
of them, the Defence of Niebuhr,* will probably
not interest you much more than it did myself.
There are, however, some noble passages, trans-
lated from « Niebuhr's Appeal to the German
People,' which almost, as Sir Philip Sidney
said of Chevy Chace, * stir the heart like the
sound of a trumpet/ The other work of Mr.
* At this time Mrs. Hemans only regarded Niebuhr
as one of the iconoclasts — as merely a sceptical in-
quirer into the traditions of antiquity ; and it will be
remembered with what small complacency or tolera-
ration she was prepared to regard any destroyer of the
ancient legends in which her imagination took such
great delight. The details of the Roman historian's
private life, the traits of his character, which have
shown to us the simple and amiable man, as well as
the severe and laborious scholar, had not then been
given to the public.
i 2
172 MEMORIALS OF
Hare's is a sermon called « the Children of
Light."' ....
. . . . " Since I wrote last, I have been
quite confined to the house, but before I caught
my last very judicious cold, I went to see an ex-
quisite piece of sculpture, which has been lately
sent to this neighbourhood from Rome, by Gib-
son, with whose name as an artist you are most
likely familiar. It is a statue of Sappho, repre-
senting her at the moment she receives the
tidings of Phaon's desertion. I think I prefer
it to almost anything I ever saw of Canova's, as
it possesses all his delicacy and beauty of form,
but is imbued with a far deeper sentiment
There is a sort of willowy drooping in the figure
which seems to express a weight of unutterable
sadness, and one sinking arm holds the lyre
so carelessly, that you almost fancy it will drop
while you gaze. Altogether, it seems to speak
MRS. HEMANS. 173
piercingly and sorrowfully of the nothingness of
fame, at least to woman. There was a good col-
lection of pictures in the same house, but they
were almost unaccountably vulgarized in my
sight by the presence of the lonely and graceful
statue."
. ..." I send you a number of the Athenaeum,
(which seems almost the best literary journal of
the day,) for the sake of an account it contains
of the Necker family and Madame de Stael,
which I think particularly interesting. From the
style, I imagine it to be written by a friend of
mine, Miss Jewsbury I send another
number, in which T think you will read with
interest a paper, by the sudden appearance of
which, with the portentous title ' Felicia He-
mans,' I was somewhat startled yesterday morn-
ing. Some parts of it are, however, beautifully
written, though I hope you will quite enter into
my feelings when I utterly disclaim all wish for
174 MEMORIALS OF
the post of ; Speaker to the Feminine Literary
House of Commons."*
. ..." I have been reading a great deal during
all this gloomy winter, and have been charmed
lately by an account of the life of my favourite
musician, Weber, f with extracts from his letters ;
* In spite of the fault of taste in its very first sen-
tence, here alluded to by Mrs. Hemans, the character
in question (from the pen of Miss Jewsbury) is written
with great truth, and elegance, and discrimination. It
would be superfluous to quote from it, save, perhaps,
the fanciful simile in its closing paragraph. " She is a
permanent accession to the literature of her country ;
she has strengthened intellectual refinement, and
beautified the cause of virtue. The superb creeping-
plants of America often fling themselves across the
arms of mighty rivers, uniting the opposite banks by
a blooming arch : so should every poet do to truth and
goodness — so has Felicia Hemans often done, and been,
poetically speaking, a bridge of flowers."
f In the Foreign Quarterly Review.
MRS. HEMANS. 175
the flow of affectionate feeling in these, the
love he everywhere manifests of excellence for
its own sake, the earnestness and truth of heart
revealed in all his actions, — these things make
up a character, like his own music, of perfect
harmony. Is it not delightful, a foundation of
gladness to our own hearts, when we are able
to love what we admire ? I shall play the waltz,
and those beautiful airs from Der Freischutz,
with tenfold pleasure after reading the me-
moir." ....
. ..." I was much interested a few days ago
in looking over some beautiful engravings of
antique English portraits. I wonder whether
you were ever impressed by what struck me
much during an examination of them, the
superior character of repose by which they are
distinguished from the portraits of the present
day. I found this, to a certain degree, the pre-
dominant trait in every one of them ; not any
176 MEMORIALS OF
thing like nonchalance or apathy, but a certain
high-minded self-possession, something like what
I think the ' Opium Eater ' calls ' the brooding
.of the majestic intellect over all.' I scarcely
ever see a trace of this quiet, yet stately sweet-
ness in the expression of modern portraits;
they all look so eager, so restless, so trying to
be tveillt; I wonder if this is owing to the
feverish excitement of the times in which we
live, for I should suppose that the world has
never been in such a hurry during the whole
course of its life before." ....
.... "I wish I could be with you to see Young's
performance of Hamlet, of all Shakspeare's
characters the one which interests me most; I
suppose from the never-ending conjectures in
which it involves one's mind. Did I ever men-
tion to you Goethe's beautiful remark upon it?
He says, that Hamlet's naturally gentle and
tender spirit, overwhelmed with its mighty tasks
MRS. HEMANS. 177
and solemn responsibilities, is like a China vase,
fit only for the reception of delicate flowers,
but in which an oak tree has been planted, the
roots of the strong tree expand, and the fair
vase is shivered." ....
. ..." I have lately met with an exquisite little
book, a work upon the Classics, just published,
by Henry Coleridge ; it is written with all the
fervour and much of the rich imagination and
flow of 'words that burn,' which characterize
the writings of his celebrated relative." ....
.... " Some Quarterly Reviews have lately
been sent to me, one of which contains an article
on Byron, by which I have been deeply and sor-
rowfully impressed ; his character, as there
pourtrayed, reminded me of some of those old
eastern cities, where travellers constantly find a
squalid mud hovel built against the ruins of a
gorgeous temple ; for, alas ! the best part of that
i 5
178 MEMORIALS OF
fearfully mingled character is but ruin — the
wreck of what might have been" ....
. ..." I hope you observed in one of the Edin-
burgh Journals, which I lately sent you on that
account, a precious theory of a distinguished
engineer, that all the Cyclops of old were
Light-Houses. So I suppose Ulysses only
blew out the lantern, on a memorable occasion
celebrated in the Odyssey: but then how the
light-house Polyphemus came to run about the
shore in that extraordinary manner, and made
such a noise that he awoke all his brothers and
cousin-beacons along the coast, Mr. Stevenson,
the engineer, ought, I think, to have explained."
Mrs. Hemans writes of Howitfs " Book of the
Seasons" as " a little book which has quite
charmed me. Do you know, I think that the
MRS. HEMANS. 179
rumours of political strife and convulsion now
ringing round us on all sides, make the spirit
long more intensely for the freshness and purity
and stillness of nature, and take deeper delight
in everything that recalls these lovely images.
I am sure I shall forget all sadness, and feel as
happy as a child, or a fawn, when I can be free
again amongst hills and woods. I long for them
' as the hart for the water-brooks."* " . . . .
. ..." I think you will have pleasure in reading
the lines which have been lately addressed to
me, by Dr. Butler, of Shrewsbury, whose name,
as that of an elegant classic scholar, I dare say
is familiar to you : I should be sorry not to dis-
tinguish such a tribute from and other
effusions of the Voly-treacle school."
Few writers have been approached with so
much homage in rhyme as Mrs. Hemans. Most
180 MEMORIALS OF
•
of it was sickly and foolish enough to merit her
whimsical epithet: every now and then, how-
ever, she was touched by an effusion of pure
feeling uttered in graceful verse, which showed
all the brighter in contrast with other tributes
she received. I believe the verses which she
preferred above the rest, were some lines by Mrs.
C. G. Godwin, which appeared in one of the
annuals ; but they could hardly be more heart-
warm or welcome, than the poems, — for there are
more than one, — addressed to her by her faith-
ful and enthusiastic friend, Miss Jewsbury. A
stanza or two from one of these may not be out
of place here.
" I know thee but a form of earth,
1 know thy wondrous mind,
Linked ever by its tears and mirth
To all of earthly kind ;
A flower's thy strength, a child's thy glee,
And all thy moods of heart,
Though restless as the billowy sea,
In beauty come and part.
MRS. HEMANS. 181
Thou art of earth in mind and will,
Yet a soul's spell, a vision still.
For thee, in knightly days of old
Would many a lance have rung - ,
And minstrels at the revel bold
Thy beauty's triumphs sung ;
But nobler far thy present meed,
Famed with a mother's fame,
And made to household hearts a need,
Than all Romance may name,
I called thee Rose, I called thee well,
But woman's is thine own sweet spell."
Lays of Leisure Hours.
The next extract is without a date, but
may be introduced here as accompanying
a short series of letters to the same corres-
pondent.
182 MEMORIALS OF
TO MR. L
" My dear Sir,
" I could not but pity the unhappy state in
which you must have concluded your last letter,
with such a chorus as you describe beneath the
windows ; in similar circumstances I lately sent
out a servant to say that there was a sick lady
in the house, who would infallibly expire at the
very next blast of song, and the bagpipe, (for
such was the leader of the barbaric crew,) with
a humanity greater than could have been ex-
pected from its savage education, immediately
departed. One sometimes does hear a sweet
female voice among a wandering band, and then
I think the ideas of desolation and homeless-
ness, with which it is associated, makes the
sounds very touching : one such voice came
to my ears lately on a very stormy evening : it
was uncultivated, as you may suppose, but had
a mournful and piercing sweetness, which, ming-
ling as it did with the fitful gusts of the storm,
lingered some time in my imagination, and
MRS. HEMANS. 183
gave rise to the little song # I enclose : if you
think it suitable to music it shall be your own,
as no one has yet seen it I dined the
other day O what a day ! what
a crew of men ! Had I possessed the power of
the Enchantress Queen in the Arabian Nights,
I should certainly, like her majesty, have taken
a little water in my hand, and throwing it by
turns in the face of each, have exclaimed,
according to the necromantic formula, ' Quit
the human form which thou disgracest, and
assume that of an ox :' by these desirable means,
had they been in my power, some insufferable
* This was " To a wandering female singer."
* * *
Thou hast wept, and thou hast parted,
Thou hast been forsaken long,
Thou hast watched for steps that came not back,
I know it by thy song.
* * * *
These lines are published among Mrs. Hemans'
Poetical Remains.
184 MEMORIALS OF
men would have been got rid of, and some very
good oxen (I have no doubt) joined to society.*
I long to see your song of the Cid, which I feel
assured will be, as Sir Walter Scott somewhere
says, ' a strain to turn back the flight ? neither
the words of that or the other piece have been
promised to any one, and you know I prefer
their being accompanied by your music to any
other attendance."
About this time, Mrs. Hemans began to de-
rive great pleasure from the discovery of a power
which is always more or less possessed by those
of a nature as musical as hers; that of com-
posing melodies ; or, — to speak critically, —
* In referring to a similar party in another letter,
she says quaintly, " I can well conceive your suf-
ferings yesterday ; the remembrance of my own on
a nearly similar occasion, when I was c bounded on the
east,' as geographers say, by , is yet but too
vivid." ....
MRS. HEMANS*
1B5
of putting together into a rhythmical form,
such wandering and unclaimed fragments of
music as float' through the memory — in fact,
the difficulty is always rather to note down
such fancies than to originate them.
" The newly-discovered power," she says in
a letter, " if such it may be called, to which I
have alluded, is that of composing melodies, by
which I have been visited in the strangest man-
ner. I have really succeeded in putting down
a great many airs to lyric pieces of my own,
which, though simple, as you may suppose, yet
seem to me to express the character of the
words. Mr. L , to whom I showed them,
was so much pleased, that he has kindly ar-
ranged them with symphonies and accompani-
ments, arrayed in which drapery they really
make quite an imposing appearance, and I anti-
cipate much pleasure in playing them to you,
though I dare say I shall be visited with some
nervous terrors when that awful moment arrives.
But they have been really a great delight to me,
186 MEMORIALS OF
amidst a thousand annoyances which, as the
Latin Grammar sagely observes, * now to enu-
merate would be tedious.' I dare say Columbus
was not much more rejoiced on discovering the
New World, than I, when I had really caught
and caged my first melody." . . .
TO MR. l .
" March 5th, 1831.
" My dear Sir,
" I send you the last song of our set. I re-
member you wished for a boat-song, and I think
this will be susceptible (I am sure that it is a
wrong word, but I have no other word at hand)
of good musical effect, which you will give so
well. I hope you will find no family likenesses
between Vs and Vs and v's strong enough to
produce a Comedy of Errors. I return your
musical Bijou ; and feeling myself the happy
possessor of two copies of last year's, I beg
your acceptance of the one which accompanies
MRS. HEMANS. 187
your own back. The stream of melody has been
in such full flow since you were here that I
think my being on the eve of departure is ra-
ther a fortunate circumstance for you, as other-
wise these new inspirations would leave you no
prospect of a quiet life. If you have no better
engagement, do you think you could come here
on Sunday evening? That monster known by
the name of the People is tormenting me at pre-
sent to such a degree, that I scarcely know when
I shall have another evening. That 'mighty
minster's bell,' really sounds so magnificent, that
I am sure my story of the French artiste with
the sauce piquante and the old slippers, must
be a case exactly in point. . . A painful sus-
picion is flashing over my mind that I am be-
ginning to write more illegibly than ever.
Before my words, therefore, are lost in a vapour
of sublime obscurity,
" Believe me very truly yours,
" F. H."
188 MEMORIALS OF
TO MR. L-
" March 20th, 1831.
" My dear Sir,
" I have been making a noble effort to put
down some of these melodies intelligibly, so as
to save you some part of the very irksome task
you have so kindly imposed upon yourself. I
tried to perform this mighty deed according to
the plan you recommended, and shall be very
glad if you think I have given some token of
dawning reason, and if any of the airs seem to
you worth arranging. My own favourite is the
Italian girl's hymn, though I cannot make my-
self at all certain that it does not belong to
some injured person whom I have uninten-
tionally plundered. Do tell me if this measure
would be intractable for composition.
' A voice of prayer arose
Through evening's bright repose,
When the sea-fight was done :
The sons of England knelt,
With hearts that now could melt,
For on the wave the battle had been won.
MRS. HEMANS. 189
Round their tall ship the main
Heaved with a dark red stain,
Caught not from sunset's cloud ;
While with the tide swept past
Pennon and shivered mast,
Which to the Ocean Queen that day had bowed.'
" I wrote the piece a short time since with the
title of 4 Prayer at Sea,'' and was more pleased
with it than I often am with my own perform-
ances. I should particularly like to have it set
by you, if you do not object to the matter, as
otherwise I fear it will be caught and sacrificed
by some ignoble hand.
" A parenthesis in my letter occasioned by a
visit three hours long, has completely driven out
of my mind all the rest that I had to say. I
am so wearied now, that I conclude like an
Italian scena — non posso piil.
" Ever truly yours, &c.
"F.H."
190 MEMORIALS OF
TO MR. L-
" March 22nd, 1831.
" My dear Sir,
" I am very glad that you perceive some signs
of advancing intellect in my musical MS.— and
still more rejoiced that you consent to rescue the
lines I now inclose from their impending ruin.
" I have the pleasure to inform you that you
have attained a degree of indistinctness posi-
tively sublime in the name of the day upon
which you promise to visit me next. I was, as
the Lady Cherubina says in the Heroine, * ter-
ribly ill off for mysteries,' before the arrival of
your note ; but this deficiency is now most hap-
pily supplied. Reasoning from analogy instead
of wisdom, (is not that a sentence worthy of
himself?) I should conclude it
to be Tuesday, but then it has, if my senses
fail me not, a dotted i : it seems to have
rather too many letters for Friday, and into
Wednesday it cannot be metamorphosed, even on
MRS. HEMANS. 191
the antiquarian system that 'consonants are
changeable at pleasure and vowels go for nothing/
8 The force of nature can no further go ;'
therefore, I return the awful hieroglyphic for
your inspection, and unless it should be intended
to emulate that celebrated hand of Mr. Jeffrey's,
' which is neither to be read by himself or any
one else,' I beg for some further light."
" March 31st, 1831.
" My dear Mr. ,
" I was not able to send you the book yester-
day, but it does itself the pleasure of waiting
upon you this morning, and is accompanied by a
Literary Souvenir, which I beg you to accept
and keep ( for ever and a day' in remembrance
of me. I also send you a relic which I am sure
you will value, a note of Reginald Heber's, with
some advice respecting the plot of a tragedy on
192 MEMORIALS OF
which I had consulted him : as I have several
other papers and letters of his, I can well spare
you this, and am sure that no one will prize it
more.
" I am beginning to be much engaged with
the troublesome preparations for my departure.
Certainly poetry is a mere * waif and stray , in
this work-day world of ours ; when I find my
unfortunate self surrounded by trunks and boxes,
and packing cases, and bills and accounts^
and other such uncouth monsters, I get per-
fectly bewildered, and wonder into what terra
incognita I have been transported. Is it not
very disagreeable to waken out of one's plea-
sant ideal world, and find that one must do
things for one's self after all, and notwithstand-
ing all the protestations of a hundred knights
and squires who declare that their ' swords shall
leap out of the scabbard'' at a single word, in
one's cause ? — Pray are you at all superstitious ?
I am perfectly haunted by an ominous verse of
Campbell's —
MRS. HEMANS. 193
e The boat hath left a stormy land,
A stormy sea before her ;
*But O, too strong- for human hand,
The tempest gathered o'er her/
and wonder what it bodes me. I am expecting
one pleasure in the midst of all these plagues, a
visit from my old friend Sir , who is coming
to see me next week on his way to town. If I
have an opportunity, I should like to introduce
him to you. He is to dine with the King on the
1st of April, and with me I hope (what a pi-
quant contrast !) on the 6th."
TO MR. l .
"April 3rd, 1831.
" My dear Sir,
" I send you the other volume of Shelley,
* The two last lines have been added to make the
quotation clear to those, if such there be, who may
not happen to be familiar with the verse : it is from
« Lord Ullin's Daughter."
VOL. II. K
194 MEMORIALS OF
which I stupidly forgot to bring yesterday. I
think you will admire the earnest eloquence of
Mrs. Shelley's preface ; and the lines written in
the Bay of Naples seem to me quite a union of
music and picture in poetry. Can anything be
more beautiful than
' The lightning of the noon-tide ocean
Is flashing round me, and I hear
The music of its measured motion ?'
I do not think I can leave this citta dolente
( Wavertree, I mean, for I must remain in Liver-
pool some days longer) until Saturday next, so
that I hope you will have quite time to read all that
is interesting in the volume. When I returned
home yesterday, I indulged the incendiary tastes
I had confessed to you, by making a large bonfire
of letters. The quantity of sentiment that went
to heap the pyre was prodigious, and would, I
am sure, have filled ' twelve French romances,
neatly gilt/ Did you observe any lurid tinge of
conflagration in the skies above ? Amongst
MRS. HEMANS. 195
these records, half-melancholy, half ludicrous, of
past follies and fancies and dreams, I found two
letters from , which I thought had been
destroyed long since. I was going to add them
to my beacon-fire, but I thought, as curious
traits of character, I would show them to you
first. Can you conceive anything so innately,
so unutterably vulgar, as the style of mind they
betray ? the attempt at patronage, the low-bred
enumeration of great names, which, so arranged,
almost remind me of the list in the Bath Guide,
' Lord Cram and Lord Vultur,
Sir Brandish O'Cultur,
With Marshal Carowzer
And old Lady Mouser.'
I answered these precious documents, certainly
without unpoliteness, but with some portion of
what Miss Jewsbury calls my 'passive disdain,*
a quality in which she considers me particularly
rich. If you will bring them with you to-
morrow evening, we will make another confla-
gration." ....
k 2
196 MEMORIALS OF
TO MR. L .
"April 6th, 1831.
" My dear Sir,
" I return to you the very interesting collec-
tion of Mr. 's drawings, which I had great
pleasure in looking over yesterday evening. I
only regret that there were no names to them,
as I am prevented from particularising those
which I most admired ; but I recognized Tivoli,
and was especially struck with one representing
the interior of a church. There is also an ex-
quisite little hermitage buried among trees,
where I should like to pass at least a month
after all my late fatigues, and hear nothing but
the sound of leaves and waters, and now and
then some pleasant voice of a friend. I did
not quite understand a message which Henry
brought me about the dedication or advertise-
ment to those drawings. Did Mr. wish
to ask my opinion of it ? I am just the reverse
of Iago, who calls himself ■ nothing if not cri-
MRS. HEMANS. 197
tical,' but it seems to me that there is some little
awkwardness in the commencement. ' Making
the following drawings/ has rather an abrupt
sound for the opening of a sentence, has it not ?
I cannot help feeling interested in Mr.
from all I have heard you say of him ; and, if you
think it would gratify him, I would send you a
few lines to be prefixed to this work, in which I
should try to express in poetry what I imagine
he wishes to convey — that the spirit of the artist
was wandering over the sunny fields of Italy,
whilst he himself was confined to the bed of
sickness. I could not do it very soon, as I am
likely to be hurried for some time, but probably
he does not wish to publish his work imme-
diately I fear I must give up the
concert, I feel so inexpressibly weary from
having to superintend a thousand things which
I never thought of in my life before. I will try
to have my harp sent to your care in a day or
two, and I will also trouble you with the charge
of some music-books. I send you a letter of
Campbell's for your collection. I must only beg
198 MEMORIALS OF
you to keep it for yourself, and not to give it
away."
TO MR. L
" April 10, 1831.
" I find that I must trouble you with the care
of several more Italian books. I was compelled
to choose between Tasso and Ariosto, and fear
you will hardly approve my preference of the
former, but there is much in the story of his
sufferings which intensely interests me, and,
perhaps, deepens my reverence for his poetry.
" Will you laugh, or pity me a little, when I
tell you that I absolutely cried this morning
from mere fatigue ? I think I never, not even
in times of real affliction, felt my spirits so
exhausted as at present. I would give anything
to be going into the country, and to live among
trees and flowers till I feel the spirit of poetry
come back again — it is quite put to flight by
petty cares, which I think are almost as much at
MRS. HEMANS. * 199
variance with it as fashionable dinners. There
is a most severe and really well-written review
in Fraser's Magazine this month, upon Moore's
life of Byron." .....
TO MR. l. .
" April 19, 1S31.
" My dear Sir,
" I cannot tell you how much I shall value
your beautiful token of remembrance :* nothing
could be at once so acceptable to my tastes, and
so delightfully associated with all my recollec-
tions of you as this glorious opera; and I quite
agree with you that it is impossible for anything
so essentially full of beauty, so composed 'for
eternity,' ever to become hackneyed to feeling
and imagination, notwithstanding its countless
wrongs from the hands of Goths, Vandals, and
young ladies. You must not suppose, however,
— though I shall treasure this book more than
all the others of my musical library — that I shall
* The Opera of Tancredi.
200 MEMORIALS OF
need anything to remind me of you. One so
haunted as I am by the ceaseless cry of * Alone,
alone/ retains no transitory remembrance of
those who have had power sometimes to bid
that voice be silenced.
" You will be surprised to hear, that not-
withstanding my healthful looks, of which you
so cruelly informed me yesterday morning, Dr.
, who visited me after you were gone, posi-
tively forbid the intended excursion to Ince,*
and gave me most serious admonitions with re-
gard to that complaint of the heart from which
I suffer. He says that nothing but great care
and perfect quiet will prevent its assuming a
dangerous character; and I told him that he
might as well prescribe me the powdered dia-
monds which physicians of the olden time or-
dered for royal patients. I must own that this
has somewhat deepened the melancholy impres-
sions under which I am going to Ireland, for I
cannot but feel assured that he is right
* The seat of Henry Blundell, Esq., famous for its
fine collection of statuary.
MRS. REMANS* 201
" Will you not dislike .... more than ever
when I tell you that our friend Mr. Roscoe is actu-
ally to be deprived of a pension which he received
from the Royal Society of Literature ? I learned
this from the Mr. , whom I told you I ex-
pected to see, but he begged me not to make it
generally known at present. Mathias also, one
of our most distinguished Italian scholars, now
a very old man in narrow circumstances, is to
undergo a similar privation. Is it not a miser-
able piece of economy in an English king to re-
trench a thousand a- year (for all these literary
pensions amounted to no more) from men of let-
ters in advanced age ? I feel quite grieved about
Mr. Roscoe, for besides that I am afraid he can
ill spare it, the wound to his feelings seemed to
be so great. I can scarcely think of it without
tears, when I recollect his touching expression of
feebleness united with so much that is venerable.
I mean to sail, if I possibly can, to-morrow, and
shall write to you as soon as I am a little settled
in Dublin, where I hope we shall meet in the
k 5
202 MEMORIALS OF
autumn. I have had a very good account of
my two boys ; I am quite amused to hear from
their master, that little has already excited
a general musical taste in the school, and has
actually persuaded all the boys to subscribe for
a music-master."
MRS. HEMANS. *2()3
CHAPTER VI.
Mrs. Hemans' departure from England — Letters from
Kilkenny — Catholic and Protestant animosity— Pic-
tures at Lord Ormonde's—Visit to Woodstock —
Parallel between the poems of Mrs. Hemans and
Mrs. Tighe — Raphael's great Madonna— Kilfane—
Water-birds — Deserted churchyard — Visit to a Con-
vent— Passage in Symmons' Translation of the
Agamemnon — Kilkenny — Irish politics — " The
Death-song of Alcestis" — Dublin Musical Festival
— Paganini—" Napoleon's Midnight Review" — Fur-
ther Anecdotes of Paganini — Letters from the county
Wicklow— Glendalough— The Devil's Glen— Wood
scenery — Letters from Dublin— Miniature by Robert-
son—Society of Dublin — " The Swan and the Sky-
lark " — Difficulty in procuring new books.
In the spring of 1831, Mrs. Hemans took leave
of England, for the last time. From this point,
204 MEMORIALS OF
therefore, my memorials of her life and literary
pursuits (always inseparably connected) must, of
necessity, be slighter than those of the time of
daily personal intercourse. But it was her
happy fortune, wherever she went, to attach a
few faithful friends to her, and it was her nature
to prefer the society of those few to the suc-
cess and celebrity which she might, at will,
have commanded in wider and more brilliant
circles. To one of the small household band
which she drew around her in Dublin, I am
largely indebted for details of the manner of
her life and the direction of her mind, during
the last years of her pilgrimage ; and for extracts
from that familiar correspondence, in which she
loved to journalize the thoughts and impressions
of the passing hours, for the benefit of those for
the time nearest and dearest to her. Her more
general letters to her friends in England will
readily be distinguished from these.
After a short stay in Dublin, Mrs. Hemans
paid a visit to her brother, who was then sta-
tioned in the county of Kilkenny. The follow-
MRS. HEMANS. 205
ing letters, were written while she was under his
roof.
TO MR. L-
" Hermitage, near Kilkenny, June 21, 1831.
" My dear Sir,
" The sight of your letter awoke in me, I can
assure you, not a few ' compunctious visitings,'
as I think you must have imagined I had forgot
past times and all your kindness to me. This
is, however, far from having been the case; I
have again and again both spoken of you and
thought of you, and intended to write ; but I can
give you no idea of the strange, unsettled, agi-
tated life I have been leading since I came to
this country : obliged, amidst a thousand inward
anxieties, to give my time and attention to the
claims of a new society; and perpetually inter-
rupted by a state of health more tremulous than
usual. I must not lead you to suppose that I
have been altogether unhappy since my leaving
206 MEMORIALS OF
England : I have, on the contrary, found more of
happiness and true kindness here than I have
expected — still peace and leisure have been far
from me, and I have scarcely been able to write
aline." ....
ee Hermitage, Kilkenny, June, 22nd, 1831.
. . . . " I arrived here on Saturday last.
I left Dublin with great regret, for amidst many
anxieties much and unexpected happiness had
met me there My brother is
still in Clare, but we expect him very shortly.
is a perfect heroine : she has sent her
men servants out of the house to make room
for my boys ; and we are quite unprotected ex-
cept by my brother's name. I must say, / feel
sometimes a little nervous at night, particularly
after hearing of the attacks made upon houses
to procure arms, with which our dwelling is
known to be amply supplied This
county is, however, tolerably quiet; but the
spirit of hatred existing between Protestant and
MRS. HEMANS. 207
Papist, is what I could never have conceived
had I not visited these scenes. Yesterday even-
ing I was taking a quiet walk beside the beau-
tiful river Nore, everything looking bright, and
still, and peaceful around me, when I met one
of my brother's men there with pistols stuck in
his belt, which I was told he always carried, on
account of his being a Protestant I asked a
young clergyman who visits us to attend me to
a Catholic place of worship, as I wished to hear
the service ; he said that he would most will-
ingly escort me anywhere else, and, as far as
his own feelings were concerned, would go with
me even there, but probably the consequence
would be the desertion of almost all his con-
gregation. You may imagine that I did not
choose to press the point. I hope in my next
letter to send you the lines on Naples. I can-
not tell you how much I regret being of so little
use to you this year ; but my life, in this land of
agitation, has partaken of all that characterises
the country. I have indeed found some hap-
208 MEMORIALS OF
piness, for which I am grateful, but no peace,
no leisure — and have been scarcely able to write a
line. Still I love Ireland, and feel that I shall do
so still more. My health has not improved lately.
" I am most faithfully yours,
« F. H."
. . . . " I saw a few beautiful pictures
at Lord Ormonde's the other day. One of those
which struck me the most was a Madonna of
Corregio's ; so still, so earnest, so absorbed in its
expression of holy love, that it realized my
deepest conception of the character. What I
thought most remarkable was, that all this ex-
pression is given to a countenance with nearly
closed eyes, for the eyelids fall so heavily— I
should rather say softly, over them." . . .
. . . . " I wish to give you an account
of a rather interesting day which I lately passed,
MRS. HEMANS. 209
before its images become faint in my recollec-
tion. We went to Woodstock, the place where
the late Mrs. Tighe, whose poetry has always
been very touching to my feelings, passed the
latest years of her life, and near which she is
buried. The scenery of the place is magnifi-
cent, of a style which I think I prefer to every
other ; wild profound glens, rich with every hue
and form of foliage, and a rapid river sweeping
through them, now lost and now lighting up. the
deep woods with sudden flashes of its waves.
Altogether it reminded me more of Haw-
thornden, than any thing I have seen since —
though it wants the solemn rock-pinnacles of
that romantic place. I wish I could have been
alone with Nature and my thoughts, but, to my
surprise, I found myself the object of quite a re-
ception. The Chief Justice and many other per-
sons had been invited to meet me, and I was to
be made completely the lady of the day. There
was no help for it, though I never felt so much
as if I wanted a large leaf to wrap me up and
210 MEMORIALS OF
shelter me from all curiosity and attention.
Still one cannot but feel grateful for kindness,
and much was shown me. I should have told
you, that Woodstock is now the seat of Mr. and
Lady Louisa Tighe Amongst
other persons of the party was Mr. Henry
Tighe, the widower of the poetess
He had just been exercising, I found, one of his
accomplishments in the translation into Latin
of a little poem of mine, and I am told that his
version is very elegant. We went to the tomb,
' the grave of a poetess,' where there is a
monument by Flaxman : it consists of a recum-
bent female figure, with much of the repose, the
mysterious sweetness of happy death, which is
to me so affecting in monumental sculpture.
There is, however, a very small Titania-look-
ing sort of figure with wings, sitting at the head
of the sleeper, and intended to represent Psyche,
which I thought interfered wofully with the
singleness of effect which the tomb would have
produced : unfortunately, too, the monument is
MRS. HfcMANS. 211
carved in a very rough stone, which allows
no delicacy of touch. That place of rest made
me very thoughtful ; I could not but reflect on
the many changes which had brought me to the
spot I had commemorated three years since,
without the slightest idea of ever visiting it;
and though surrounded by attention and the
appearance of interest, my heart was envying
the repose of her who slept there
.' " Mr. Tighe has just sent me
his Latin translation of my lines, ' The Graves
of a Household.' It seems very elegant as far
as I can venture to judge, but what strikes me
most is the concluding thought, (so peculiarly
belonging to Christianity,) and the ancient lan-
guage in which it is thus embodied,
' Si nihil ulterius mundo, si sola voluptas
Esset terrenis — quid feret omnis Amor ?'
I suppose the idea of an affection powerful and
spiritual enough to over sweep the grave, (of
course the beauty of such an idea belongs not
212 MEMORIALS OF
to me, but to the spirit of our faith,) is not to
be found in the loftiest strain of any classic
writer."
It could hardly be expected that such a visit
as the one described in the foregoing extract
should pass without its record. In an earlier
letter, Mrs. Hemans had said, " I think I shall
feel much interest in visiting 'the grave of a
poetess.' - her poetry has always
touched me greatly, from a similarity which I
imagine I discover between her destiny and my
own." The lyric* which was written after
she had seen a place already visited by her
in imagination, contains little more than the
* Published among the " National Lyrics," and
beginning
" I stood where the lip of song lay low,
Where the dust had gathered on beauty's brow,
Where stillness hung on the heart of love,
And a marble weeper kept watch above."
MRS. HEMANS. 213
thoughts intimated in the letter, versified with
some additional incident and imagery : and it
may be noted as amongst the curiosities of au-
thorship, that the earlier verses, produced under
the strong influence of the imagination alone,
are happier, because simpler, than those which
may be called the offspring of memory. " The
Grave of a Poetess," (published among the
" Records of Woman,") is throughout full of
feeling, and of a spirit more cheerful, — because
better able . to raise itself above the cares, and
changes, and partings of earth, — than that which
breathes in the poems of the gifted but melan-
choly author of " Psyche." Its moral is com-
prehended in the two last stanzas.
" Thou hast left sorrow in thy song,
A voice not loud, but deep !
The glorious bowers of earth among,
H<Jw often didst thou weep !
Where couldst thou fix on mortal ground,
Thy tender thoughts and high ?
Now peace the woman's heart hath found,
And joy the poet's eye ! '
214 MEMORIALS OF
On turning again to the " Psyche," a poem
full of musical verse, delicate thought, and
happy personification, it has been impossible
not to recognise the great general simila-
rity of mind which existed between its author
and Mrs. Hemans : whether in her mood
of hope and buoyancy, and complete aban-
donment to the art in which she was so well
skilled, or in her sadder hours of lonely thought,
and night-watching, and melancholy " panting
upon the thorns of life." The stanza, for in-
stance, which opens the fifth canto of the
<{ Legend of Love," has an enthusiasm and har-
mony of numbers common to both.
** Delightful visions of my lonely hours,
Charm of my life, and solace of my care !
Ah ! would the muse but lend proportioned powers,
And give the language, equal to declare
The wonders which she bids my fancy share,
When, wrapt in her, to other worlds I fly,
See angel-forms unalterably fair,
And hear the inexpressive harmony,
That seems to float on air, and warble through the sky."
MRS. HEMANS. 215
Again, in the " Verses written at the com-
mencement of the Spring of 1802," there is a
remarkable coincidence of sentiment, and even
of imagery, with Mrs. Hemans' " Breathings of
Spring; 1 '* one of those poems in which her
deepest and most abiding feelings were uncon-
sciously uttered. In both the sights and sounds
of the season are invoked — in both is wrought
out Byron's most beautiful, yet most bitter
thought,
c I turned from all she brought, to all she could not
bring V
but far the most fully and sweetly by the later
poetess, as, turning from the " fairy-peopled
world of flowers " and " the bright waters," and
" thejoyous leaves
Whose tremblings gladden many a copse and glade,"
— she asks, earnestly and sadly,
" But what awak'st thou in the heart, O spring !
The human heart, with all its dreams and sighs,
* Published with the " Records of Woman."
216 MEMORIALS OF
Thou, that giv'st back so many a buried thing,
Restorer of forgotten harmonies ;
Fresh songs and scents break forth where'er thou art,
What wak'st thou in the heart ?
" Too much, O there too much ! — We know not well
Wherefore it should be thus — but, roused by thee,
What fond, strange yearnings, from the soul's deep
cell
Gush for the faces we no more shall see ;
How are we haunted in the wind's low tone,
By voices that are gone !
" Looks of familiar love, that never more,
Never on earth, our aching eyes shall greet,
Past words of welcome to our household door,
And vanished smiles and sounds of parted feet ;
Spring, 'mid the murmurs of thy flowering trees,
Why, why reviv'st thou these ?
u Vain longings for the dead
The parallel between the writings of Mrs.
Tighe and Mrs. Hemans might be wrought out
to a far greater extent ; but it is better to indi-
MRS. HEMANS. 217
cate than to exhaust. Those who are interested in
comparative criticism will, I think, find that
there is a difference of twenty years of the his-
tory of poetry between the imagery and epithets
employed by these two accomplished women.
In the sonnet, perhaps, Mrs. Tighe has the ad-
vantage, Mrs. Hemans never having wholly at-
tained the power of compression which is a
requisite essential to compositions of this diffi-
cult but exquisite class. On the other hand, most
of the poems by the authoress of " Psyche" ad-
dressed to individuals, or written to commemorate
some particular domestic trial or blessing, — sin-
cere and earnest though they be,— are less touch-
ing than the more indistinct allusions to the ten-
derness of a mother, to the sweet confidence be-
tween sisters, to the reliance of woman upon him
she loves worthily, and to the desolateness of
heart when change or death sever any of these
holy ties, — which are to be found in Mrs. He-
mans' lyrics and scenes, and which may be all
considered but as so many utterances of her own
VOL. II. L
218 MEMORIALS OF
feelings. How much more healthy, indeed, is
the dispensation under which poets live now,
when feeling and emotion are, as it were, fused
into verse, while the sacredness of the secret
heart is respected ; than that under which sorrow
and joy were openly parcelled out, and paraded
in the " light of common day ;" — when strains of
lamentation for the heaviest affliction, or of that
joy with which no stranger should intermeddle,
were publicly poured forth, without reserve, and,
may it not almost be surmised, without much deep
or sincere feeling ? As an instance, — let Miss
Seward's pompous elegy on the death of her
early-called sister, whose name, for the occasion,
was refined into " Alinda," be compared with
" the Graves of a Household," or the " Haunted
Mansion," — and our writers and readers will
have no cause to regret the more natural days in
which they live.
Before returning from this digression to cor-
respondence and anecdote, it may be mentioned,
that another proof of the deep and peculiar in-
MRS. HEMANS. 219
terest with which Mrs. Hemans regarded Mrs.
Tighe, may be found in a sonnet, (published
among the " Poetical Remains,") on " Records of
immature genius," which was written after
reading some of her earlier poems in manuscript.
It might be applied with strict and beautiful
significance to all but the latest works of its
writer.
c Oh ! judge in thoughtful tenderness of those
Who, richly dowered for life, are called to die
Ere the soul's flame, through storms, hath won re-
pose
In truth's divinest ether still and high !
Let their mind's riches claim a trustful sigh !
Deem them but sad sweet fragments of a strain,
First notes of some yet struggling harmony,
By the strong rush, the crowding joy and pain
Of many inspirations met, and held
From its true sphere."
. ..." I do not think I mentioned to you hav-
l 2
220 MEMORIALS OF
ing seen, at Woodstock, a large and beautifully
painted copy of Raphael's ' great Madonna/ as
it is called, — the one at Dresden : I never was
enabled to form so perfect an idea of this noble
work before. The principal figure certainly
looks the ' Queen of Heaven/ as she stands
serenely upon her footstool of clouds ; but there
is, I think, rather a want of human tenderness
in her calm eyes, and on her regal brow. I
visited yesterday another beautiful place some
miles from us. (I am very sorry that the neigh-
bourhood has lately been seized with quite a
mania of making parties for me.) Kilfane, how-
ever, the scene of yesterday's reunion, is a very
lovely spot, quite in a different style of beauty
from Woodstock ; soft, rich, and pastoral-looking.
Such a tone of verdure I think I never beheld
anywhere : it was quite an emerald darkness,
a gorgeous gloom, brooding over velvet turf, and
deep, silent streams, from such trees as I could
fancy might have grown in Armida's enchanted
wood. Some swans upon the dark waters made
MRS. HEMANS. 221
me think of another line of Spenser's, in which
he speaks of the fair Una, as
{ Making- a sunshine in the shady place.'
The house contains some interesting works of
art; amongst others, a very beautiful bust of
Raphael, which was new to me. It is rather like
what I think \ face might be in manhood ;
the eye mild and earnest, the long hair widely
parted, and the noble brow with that high intel-
lectual serenity throned upon it, which I cannot
but consider as characterizing the loftiest order
of genius." ....
. ..." I forgot to tell you of a beautiful remark
that I heard made lately in conversation, (it is
not very often one hears anything worth record-
ing,) it came from the Chief Justice, when I met
him at Kilfane ; I think it was with regard to
some of Canova's beautiful sculpture in the
222 MEMORIALS OF
room, that he said, * Is not Perfection always
affecting?'' I thought he was quite right, for
the highest degree of beauty in any art, certainly
always excites, if not tears, at least the inward
feeling of tears." . . *
....." The graceful play of water-birds is
always particularly delightful to me ; those bright
creatures convey to my fancy a fuller impression
of the joy of freedom than any others in nature,
perhaps because they seem the lords of two
elements. The enjoyment of having wings, and
being able to bathe them too, this torrid weather,
must be enviable : I have heard that in Corsica,
the sun, during the dog-days, is called the ' Lion-
Sun ;' I am sure his present dealings with us
are quite lion-like in their ferocity." . .
MRS. HEMANS. 223
. . . " I have discovered a very striking
scene in this neighbourhood since I last wrote
to you — a wild and deserted Catholic church-
yard; but I believe I must describe it when I
write next, that I may not be too late for this
day's post." . . .
. . . " I will now describe to you the scene
I mentioned in my last letter as having so much
impressed me. It was a little green hill, rising
darkly and abruptly against a very sunny back-
ground of sloping corn-fields and woods. It ap-
peared smooth till near the summit, but was
there crested— almost castellated indeed — by
what I took for thickly-set, pointed rocks, but,
on a near approach, discovered to be old tomb-,
stones, forming quite a little ' city of the silent/
I left our car to explore it, and discovered some
ruins of a very affecting character: — a small
church, laid open to the sky, forsaken and moss-
grown ; its font lying overturned on the green
sod; some of the rude ornaments themselves
224 MEMORIALS OF
but ruins. One of these, which had fallen
amongst thick heath and wild-flowers, was sim-
ply a wooden cross with a female name upon it,
and the inscription, ' May her soul rest in peace !'
You will not wonder at the feeling which
prompted me to stoop and raise it up again.
My memory will often revert to that lonely spot,
sacred to the hope of immortality, and touched
by the deep quiet of the evening skies." . . .
. . . " I paid a visit some days ago to the
convent here, but was told at the gate that I
could not be admitted, as i the ladies were not to
speak a word for eight days.' In an unwonted
spirit of self-congratulation, I turned away, and
rather think that, actuated by the same spirit, /
spoke words enough for eight days in the one
following." ....
MRS. HEMANS. 225
, . . " I have just been reading in Black-
wood some extracts from what seems to be a
splendid translation of the Agamemnon of
iEschylus, by a Mr. Symmons. One passage,
describing the beacon-fires which announce the
taking of Troy, and send on the tidings from
hill to hill, as the light borne in a torch-race, is
really written — I should rather say transfused
into 6 words that burn.' # I am going to order
the book, which I see is much commended for
* Possibly this magnificent passage, so well ren-
dered by the translator in question, may have arrested
Mrs. Hemans* attention more forcibly than even its
intrinsic power would warrant, by striking a peculiar
chord of her imagination. Her descriptions of the
effects of fire are always singularly impulsive and
spirited. Thus in M The Bride of the Greek Isles,"
(Records of Woman,) —
" Man may not fetter, nor ocean tame
The might and the wrath of the rushing flame !
It hath twined the mast, like a glittering snake
That coils up a tree from a dusky brake ;
L 5
226 MEMORIALS OF
the fidelity, as well as poetic spirit, of the trans-
lation." . . .
It hath touched the sails, and their canvas rolls
Away from its breath into shrivell'd scrolls ;
It hath taken the flag's high place in air,
And reddened the stars with its wavy glare,
And sent out bright arrows, and soared in glee.
To a burning mount 'midst the moonlight sea." . .
And again, in " The Shepherd Poet of the Alps,"
published among the tc Poetical Remains " —
" Thus woke the dreamer one weary night —
There flashed through his dungeon a swift, strong
light : '
He sprang up — he climbed to the grating-bars, —
It was not the rising of moon or stars
But a signal flame from a peak of snow,
Itock'd through the dark skies to and fro.
There shot forth another — another still —
A hundred answers of hill to hill !
Tossing like pines in the tempest's way,
Joyously, wildly, the bright spires play,
And each is hailed with a pealing shout,
For the high Alps waving their banners out !"
MRS. HEM AN S. 2*27
. . . " Kilkenny is a singular-looking old
place, full of ruins, or rather fragments of ruins .
bits of old towers and abbey-windows ; and its
wild, lazzaroni-lookmg population, must, I should
think, be tremendous when in a state of excite-
ment. Many things in the state of this country,
even during its present temporary quiet, are
very painful to English feeling. It is scarcely
possible to conceive bitterness and hatred ex-
isting in the human heart, when one sees nature
smiling so brightly and so peacefully all round ;
and yet those dark feelings do exist here to a
degree which I could scarcely have believed
possible. . . . Religion, or rather religious
animosity, is carried to a height which I could
not have conceived possible ; and I am some-
times painfully reminded of Moore's lines, where
he speaks of the land in which
. . ' hearts fell off that ought to twine,
And man profaned what God had given ;
Till some were heard to curse the shrine
Where others knelt to heaven/
228 MEMORIALS OF
But I will not dwell upon these dark sub-
jects." . . .
From a further letter, dated Kilkenny, and
written just before Mrs. Hemans returned to
Dublin—
. . . "I am very glad to leave this place,
with its wearisome politics, which seem to weave
such a net over one's mind, that I have some-
times felt as I imagine the redoubtable hero
Gulliver must have done, with the countless,
tiny threads of the Lilliputians entangling him
in all directions. How intense is sometimes the
wish for freedom, for nature, for ! the wings of
the morning' to fly away, when narrow and
worldly spirits are contending around one !
There is pain in that passionate desire, and yet
I cannot but see in it the revelation of a higher
nature, of a being which must have an immortal
MRS. HEMANS. 229
home, of a thirst which is not to be quenched
but by ever-living waters." . . .
During her visit to Hermitage, Mrs. Hemans
wrote more than usual, possibly under the happy
influence of the situation of her retreat and the
scenery around it; a delightful contrast to the
barren flatness of the environs of Liverpool. " I
find it," she says, in one of her letters, " a pretty
little cottage; and though the surrounding
country is rather pleasant than beautiful, still
there is a sweet view from the upper win-
dows, and in particular from mine: I see a
blue range of mountains from where I am
now sitting to write, and I hear the sounds of
the river." Here she composed many scenes
and lyrics, to one of which (the Death -song of
Alcestis) an interesting allusion will be found in-
the next fragment. She was able to read, too,
more uninterruptedly than she had done for
some years. She now, for the first time, made
230 MEMORIALS OF
friendship with Coleridge's collected works, to
her great delight; and she was so much inte-
rested with his correspondence with Sir H.
Davy, which also came before her about this
time, (in Dr. Paris* life of the philosopher,)
as to transcribe a great part of it. It will be
seen by the course of her reading, and the
occasional notices of books which follow, that
the tone of her mind was deepening, as well
as becoming healthier; that an increased dis-
position to consider the conditions which bind
man to another and loftier destiny than he
fulfils in this short-lived world, was taking the
place of her former more exclusive and ima-
ginative subjects of contemplation. The great
truths of religion, in short, (I use the word in no
sectarian sense,) were beginning to gain a posi-
tive ascendency over her mind, — to be regarded
no longer as mere matters of speculation, high-
toned and picturesque, but as the moving prin-
ciples of her daily life.
MRS. HEMANS. 231
. . . " It 'was with some difficulty that I
refrained from making Alcestis express the hope
of an immortal reunion : I know this would be
out of character, and yet could scarcely imagine
how love so infinite in its nature could ever
have existed without the hope (even if undefined
and unacknowledged) of a 'heavenly country,'
an unchangeable resting-place. This awoke in
me many other thoughts with regard to the
state of human affections, their hopes and their
conflicts in the days of the * gay religions, full of
pomp and gold,' which offering, as they did, so
much of grace and beauty to the imagination,
yet held out so little comfort to the heart Then
I thought how much these affections owed to a
deeper and more spiritual faith, to the idea of a
God who knows all our inward struggles, and
pities our sufferings. I think I shall weave all
these ideas into another little poem, which I
will call 'Love in the ancient world.' Tell me
if you like the thought." . . .
232 MEMORIALS OF
The Musical Festival, held in Dublin in the
autumn of the year 1831, brought Paganini to
that city. The humours of his reception there
will never be forgotten by those who chanced to
witness them; and it might be told how the
light-hearted gossoons and girleens of Dublin
crowded round his carriage, with fervent and
noisy curiosity, equal, in its effect at least, to
the more intelligently musical furore of the
easily-moved population of the Italian cities ; —
how, upon his appearing at the theatre, where
the performances were held, " the gods" insisted
upon his mounting the piano-forte, that they
might be treated with an ample and satisfactory
view of his spectral and shadowy figure. But a
more interesting, if less lively, description of the
effect produced by his appearance, and his won-
der-working music, will be found in the next
v.
^y extracts. #*
. . . " To begin with the appearance of the
' foreign wonder/— it is very different from what
MRS. HEMANS. 233
the indiscriminating newspaper accounts would
lead you to suppose: he is certainly singular-
looking; pale, slight, and with long, neglected
hair ; but I saw nothing whatever of that wild
Jire, that almost ferocious inspiration of mien,
which has been ascribed to him ; —indeed I
thought the expression of his countenance rather
that of good-natured and mild enjouement, than of
anything else,— and his bearing altogether simple
and natural. His first performance consisted of
a tema, with variations, from the beautiful
Preghiera in " Mose :" here I was rather disap-
pointed, but merely because he did not play
alone. I suppose the performance on the single
string required the support of other instruments ;
but he occasionally drew from that string a tone
of wailing, heart-piercing tenderness, almost too
much to be sustained by any one whose soul
can give the full response. It was not, however,
till his second performance, on all the strings,
that I could form a full idea of his varied magic
A very delicate accompaniment on the piano did
234 MEMORIALS OF
not in the least interfere with the singleness of
effect in this instance. The subject was the
Venetian air, ' Come to me when day-light
sets' — how shall I give you an idea of all the
versatility, the play of soul, embodied in the
variations upon that simple air? Imagine a
passage of the most fairy-like delicacy, more
aerial than you would suppose it possible for
human touch to produce, suddenly succeeded by
an absolute parody of itself; the same notes re-
peated with an expression of absolute comic
humour, which forced me to laugh, however re-
luctantly : — it was as if an old man, the 'Ancient
Mariner' himself, were to sing an impassioned
Italian air, in a snoring voice, after Pasta.
Well, after one of these sudden travesties, for
I can call them nothing else, the creature would
look all around him, with an air of the most de-
lighted bonhommie, exactly like a witty child,
who has just accomplished a piece of successful
mischief. The pizzicato passages were also
wonderful ; the indescribably rapid notes seemed
MRS. HEMANS. 235
flung out in sparks of music, with a triumphant
glee which conveys the strongest impression I
ever received of Genius rejoicing over its own
bright creations. But I vainly wish that my
words could impart to you a full conception of
this wizard-like music.
" There was nothing else of particular inte-
rest in the evening's performance ; — a good deal
of silvery warbling from Stockhausen, but I
never find it leave any more vivid remembrance
on my mind than the singing of birds. I am
wrong, however,— I must except one thing,
6 Napoleon's Midnight Review,' — the music of
which, by Neukomm, I thought superb. The
words are translated from the German : they
describe the hollow sound of a drum at mid-
night, and the peal of a ghostly trumpet arous-
ing the dead hosts of Napoleon from their sleep
under the northern snows, and along the
Egyptian sands, and in the sunny fields of Italy.
Then another trumpet-blast, and the chief him-
self arises, ' with his martial cloak around him,'
236 MEMORIALS OF
to review the whole army; and thus it con-
cludes — ' the pass-word given is — France ; the
answer — St. Helene.' The music, which is of
a very wild supernatural character, a good deal
in Weber's incantation style, accords well with
this grand idea : the single trumpet, followed by
a long, rolling, ominous sound from the double-
drum made me quite thrill with indefinable feel-
ings. Braham's singing was not equal to the
instrumental part, but he did not disfigure it by
his customary and vulgarizing graces.
In a subsequent letter, Mrs. Hemans again
lingers upon the delight she had received from
Paganini's matchless performances.
y, •
^s ^ . . . "I enclose you a programme of
the concert at which I again heard this triumph-
ant music last night. It is impossible for me
to describe how much of intense feeling its full-
swelling dreamy tones awoke within me. His
MRS. HEMANS. 237
second performance (the Adagio a doppie corde)
made me imagine that I was then^ first waken-
ing in what a German would call the ■ music
land.' Its predominant expression was that of
overpowering passionate regret; such, at least,
was the dying languor of the long sostenuto
notes, that it seemed as if the musician was
himself about to let fall his instrument, and sink
under the mastery of his own emotion. It re-
minded me, by some secret and strange analogy,
of a statue I once described to you, representing
Sappho about to drop her lyre in utter desola-
tion of heart. This was immediately followed
by the rapid flashing music — for the strings
were as if they sent out lightning in their glee —
of the most joyous rondo by Kreutzer you can
imagine. The last piece, the 'Dance of the
Witches,' is a complete exemplification of the
grotesque in music — some parts of it imitate the
quavering, garrulous voices of very old women,
half scolding, half complaining — and then would
come a burst of wild, fantastic, half-fearful glad-
238 MEMORIALS OF
ness. I think Burns' ' Tarn O'Shanter' (not Mr.
Thorn's — by way of contrast to Sappho) some-
thing of a parallel in poetry to this strange pro-
duction in music. I saw more of Paganini's
countenance last night, and was still more
pleased with it than before ; the original mould
in which it has been cast, is of a decidedly fine
and intellectual character, though the features
are so worn by the wasting fire which appears
his vital element."
. ,. .„ — ttl did not hear Paganini again
after the performance I described to you, but I
received a very eloquent description from
of a subsequent triumph of his genius. It was
a concerto, of a dramatic character, and intended,
as I was told, to embody the little tale of a
wanderer sinking to sleep in a solitary place at
midnight. He is supposed to be visited by a
solemn and impressive vision, imaged in music
of the most thrilling style. Then, after all his
MRS. HEMANS. 239
lonely fears and wild fantasies, the day-spring
breaks upon him in a triumphant rondo, and all
is joy and gladness." ....
" related to me a most
interesting conversation he had held with Paga-
nini in a private circle. The latter was de^
scribing to him the sufferings (do you re-
member a line of Byron's,
1 The starry Galileo, with his woes,)
by which he pays for his consummate excellence.
He scarcely knows what sleep is, and his nerves
are wrought to such almost preternatural acute-
ness, that harsh, even common sounds, are often
torture to him: he is sometimes unable to
bear a whisper in his room. His passion for
music he described as an all-absorbing, a con-
suming one ; in fact, he looks as if no other life
than that etherial one of melody were circulating
within his veins : but he added, with a glow of
triumph kindling through deep sadness ' metis
e'est un don du ceil !' I heard all this, which
240 MEMORIALS OF
was no more than I had fully imagined, with a
still deepening conviction, that it is the gifted
beyond all others — those whom the multitude
believe to be rejoicing in their own fame, strong
in their own resources — who have most need of
true hearts to rest upon, and of hope in God
to support them." ....
The next extracts are dated from the county of
Wicklow, at a later period of the same autumn.
" I was" very unwell for some
days after my arrival here, as the mountains gave
me so stormy a reception, that I reached this
place with the dripping locks of a mermaid, and
never was in a condition so utterly desolate.
In the midst of my annoyances from the rain
and storm, I was struck by one beautiful effect
upon the hills ; it was produced by a rainbow,
diving down into a gloomy mountain pass which
it seemed really to Jlood with its coloured glory.
MRS. HEMANS. 241
I could not help thinking that it was like our
religion, piercing and carrying brightness into the
depths of sorrow and of the tomb. All the rest
of the scene round that one illumined spot, was
wrapt in the most lowering darkness. My im-
pressions of the country here have not hither-
to been very bright ones — but I will not yet
judge of it : the weather is most unfavourable,
and I have not quite recovered the effect of my
first day's adventures. The day before yester-
day, we visited the Vale of the Seven Churches
and Lake Glendalough ; the day was one of a
kind which I like ; soft, still, and grey, such as
makes the earth appear ' a pensive but a happy
place.' I was a little disappointed in the
scenery. I think it possesses much more for
the imagination than the eye, though there are
certainly some striking points of view ; particu-
larly that where * a round tower of other days '
rises amidst the remains of three churches, the
principal one of which, (considered, I find,
as quite the Holy of holies,) is thickly sur-
VOL. II. M
242 MEMORIALS OF
rounded with tombs. I was also much pleased
with a little wild waterfall, quite buried among
the trees ; its many cascades fell into pools of a
dark green transparency, and in one of these I
observed what seemed to me a remarkable
effect. The body of water threw itself into its
deep bed with scarcely any spray, and left an
almost smooth and clear surface, through which,
as if through ice, I saw its foamy clouds rising
and working tumultuously from beneath. In
following the course of this fall down very slip-
pery mossy stones, I received from our guide
(a female) the very flattering compliment of
being ' the most courageousest and lightest-foot-
edest lady ' she had ever conducted there. This,
I think, is worthy of being recorded with the
one paid me by Sir Walter Scottfs old game-
keeper, in the woods of Abbotsford. We after-
wards went upon the lake, the dark waters and
treeless shores of which have something impres-
sive in their stern desolation, though I do not
think the rocks quite high enough for grandeur.
MRS. HEMANS. 243
Several parties have been arranged for me to
visit other celebrated scenes in the neighbour-
hood, but I do not think that St. Kevin, who, I
suppose, presides over the weather here, seems
more propitious to female intrusion than of
old."
. ..." It is time that I should tell you
something of my adventures among these wild
hills since I last wrote. I must own that the
scenery still disappoints me, though I do not
dare to make the confession openly. There
certainly are scenes of beauty, lying deep, like
veins of gold, in the heart of the country, but
they must, like these veins, be sought through
much that is dreary and desolate. I have been
more struck with the Devil's Glen, (I wish it
had any other name,) than all the other spots
I have visited; it is certainly a noble ravine,
a place where you might imagine the mountain
m 2
244 MEMORIALS OF
Christians of old making their last stand, fight-
ing the last battle of their faith : a deep glen of
rocks cleft all through by a sounding stream of
that clear brown ' cairn-gorm' colour, which,
I think, Sir Walter somewhere describes as
being among the characteristics of mountain
waters
. . . . " To-day has been one of most perfect
loveliness. I enjoyed the change of the wild
rough mountains for the softer wood landscapes,
as we approached Powerscourt. I think I love
wood-scenery best of all others, for its kindly
look of shelter."
This chapter cannot be better closed than by
a few letters addressed to her English friends,
dated at a later period of the year, and in the
course of the following spring.
MRS. HEMANS. 245
" 2, Upper Pembroke Street, Dublin, Nov. oth.
" My dear ,
" I cannot for a moment delay telling you of
the kindly and touching memories which the
sight of the (only just received) has
excited in my mind. I am sure your friendship
will have suggested any reason but forgetfulness
for my long, long silence Be assured
that these recollections are there for ever,
though the sickness of the spirit makes me
often seem very, very fitful in expressing them.
I returned from the country rather wearied than
refreshed, as I unfortunately found myself an
object of much curiosity^ and, in gratitude
I ought to add, attention ; still it fatigued my
spirits, which were longing for full and quiet
communion with nature. On my return to
Dublin, I became a sufferer from the longest
and severest attack of heart-palpitation I have
ever experienced ; it was accompanied by almost
daily fainting-fits, and a languor quite indescrib-
able. From this state I have again arisen, and
246 MEMORIALS OF
that with an elasticity which has surprised
myself. I am now much better: my friends are
re-assembled for the winter, so that my spirits
are in a far more composed state, and I do hope
that I shall now be able to write to you much
more frequently I shall write to you
again in a day or two by a young artist, Mr.
Robertson, whom I wish to introduce to your
acquaintance, and it will give me pleasure if
you can in any way serve. I think you will be
interested in seeing a picture which he has
lately painted of me, and another of Charles.
The latter is thought to be a most delightful
likeness ; in the former, he is considered to have
succeeded in the face, but to have failed in the
figure ; indeed, he has proposed, himself, making
a complete alteration in the latter, but has been
prevented by a want of time, both on his part
and my own." ....
MRS. HEMANS. 247
TO MR. L .
"Dec. 9th, 1831.
. . . " I really was delighted to hear from
you again, and the more so as you had been
frequently in my thoughts for several days pre-
viously, in consequence of my having met with
a gentleman who seemed to be well acquainted
with you, though he could not give me your
present address
" You know how my health varies with every
emotion of my mind, and will not wonder that
it should have suffered severely from my anxiety :
but this is now passed, and if it be true that
there is
c Nessun maggior dolore,
Che ricordarsi del tempo felice,
Nella miseria/ ....
I think the reverse would be applicable to
remembered sorrow when the spirit has regained
peace. I hope our correspondence will not be
again interrupted for so long a time. Pray
248 MEMORIALS OF
come over to Ireland, and let us have some of
our pleasant hours again. I cannot promise
that you would find much to attract you in the
society of Dublin, where there is little of real
intellectual taste, and more, in my opinion, of
show and splendour than real refinement ; but
this last is a point on which I am so very fasti-
dious, that I ought to distrust my own judg-
ment I go out very little, and find my
tastes daily becoming more retired and more
and more averse to the glitter of fashionable
society. I should not forget to tell you how
much I was enchanted with Paganini, whom I
heard at the Musical Festival here : his is cer-
tainly the most spiritual of music ; such a power
must be almost consuming to its possessor, and
his appearance quite confirms this impression :
it reminds me of some lines of Byron's, referring,
I believe, to Rousseau ;
. . . . ( Like a tree
On fire with lightning, with etherial flame.
Kindled he seems and blasted ' ....
MRS. HEMANS. 249
" I am longing to hear some of your music
again, and to have it again united to my words.
I lately wrote a little poem, the f Swan and the
Skylark, 1 (I think you would find it in this
month's number of Blackwood,) which brought
you to my mind, because I thought of the power
and expression you would give to the contrasted
songs contained in it — the death-song of the
Swan, and the Lark's triumphal chaunt. I have
also written another, which I should particularly
like you to set, because I think it one of my
best efforts ; it is called the * Death-song of Al-
cestis, 1 and is in the Amulet for this year. If you
think any part of it adapted for music, I should
be exceedingly gratified by its being joined to
yours. I have not written anything which has
pleased myself more. . . I shall soon be writ-
ing to Miss Jewsbury, and will not fail to give
your message about the songs. I am very sorry
to say that she is soon going to India, in which
country Mr. Fletcher has obtained a chaplaincy.
One can indeed ill afford to lose a friend in this
M 5
250 MEMORIALS OF
cold harsh world, more especially a gifted friend.
How few have the least influence over one's feel-
ings or imagination ! I was truly concerned to
hear of Mr. *s death, for I felt how much
you would lose in him, and it is not easy for
refined characters to attach themselves anew.
Life has few companions for the delicate
minded,^
"2, Upper Pembroke Street, Dublin, Dec. 29th 1831.
" Your kind long letter was most welcome,
arriving, as it did, at a time when I have been
used to derive cheerfulness, or at least support,
either from your presence, or some mark of your
remembrance. It found me quite alone; my
brother had taken my elder boys to pass their
holidays at Killaloe, and even little Charles was
gone on a visit of a few days, which I could not
be selfish enough to refuse him. But I can give
you a better account of myself than has for a
MRS. HEMANS. 251
long time been in my power : my spirits and
health are both greatly revived, and though I
am yet unequal to any continuous exertion of
mind, still I am not without hope, that if I go
on improving, all my energies may be restored to
me. I owe much to the devoted kindness of
a friend, to whom I cannot be sufficiently grate-
ful. I almost fear being too sanguine ; but how
often have you urged me to 'hope on, hope
ever V You ask me what I have been reading
lately : the access to new books here is not
nearly as easy as in England, at least for me ;
and, in consequence, I have been much thrown
back upon our old friends, especially the Germans,
Goethe, and Schiller, and Oehlenschlaeger more
especially, and I think I love them more and
more for every perusal, so that I cannot re-
gret the causes which have rendered my con-
nexion with them more intimate than ever. I
need scarcely tell you how every page is
fraught with kindly and pleasant recollections of
you and all our happy and intellectual inter-
252 MEMORIALS OF
course. If you have had anything new of
Tieck's — indeed, any of his works from Ger-
many lately, (except * SternbakTs Wander ungen, 1
which I possess,) I should be very glad if you
could lend them to me for a time. I have only
met with one German scholar since I came to
Ireland, and with him I had only a few hours of
passing intercourse. It is very long since I have
heard from Dr. Channing, or any of my Ameri-
can friends ; indeed, I grieve to say that I do
not deserve to hear from them, for the languor
of mind and heart which has so long been creep-
ing over me, makes letter-writing, except to the
very few who understand me, a task more irk-
some than I can describe ; the consequence has
been that I have nearly dropped all merely
literary correspondents. I had, however, lately,
a very pleasant letter from Mr. Wordsworth,
though he seems to look upon the present pros-
pects of both England and Ireland with anticipa-
tions of the most gloomy character. May I beg
you would be kind enough to look amongst the
MRS. HEMANS* 253
books which I left in your care, for a Dictionary
of the Bible, in one volume, and also for Cum-
berland's Observer, in four volumes. I am wish-
ing for reference to both these works . , . The
young artist of whom I spoke to you lately has
greatly altered and improved his picture of me ;
every one now is struck with the likeness, and
I can perceive it strongly myself;* he has made
also a very delightful portrait of little Charles.
I must tell you of the latter, that he has now
gone to school, and was very successful in his
Christmas examination, having won three pre-
miums. Tell I shall be able to send her
no account of the court costume this winter, as
I now enjoy my liberty and retirement so much,
that I have come to the resolution of not risquing
them by attendance at the drawing-rooms.
With affectionate regards to all at your fireside,
" I am faithfully yours,
" F. H."
* This is the portrait prefixed to these " Memo-
rials" — a faithful and graceful likeness.
•254 MEMORIALS OF
CHAPTER VIL
The last days of Poets — Their duties — Mrs. Hemans'
favourite books— Extracts from familiar correspon-
dence — Scriptural studies— Miss Kemble's tragedy
— Thoughts during sickness — Extracts from " Scenes
and Hymns of Life" — " Norwegian Battle Song " —
Cholera in Dublin — Mr. Carlyle's criticism — Irish
society in town and country — tf The Summer's Call "
—New Year's Eve— Triumphal entry of O'Connell —
Repeated attacks of illness — Fiesco — Second part of
Faust— Translation of the first part — Visit from her
sister— Excursion into Wicklow — New volumes of
poems — Sacred poetry — Coleridge — " Scenes and
Hymns of Life " — Letters to a friend entering lite-
rary life— Stories of Art— Philip van Artavelde —
Death of Mrs. Fletcher — Visit to a mountain tarn —
Projected visit to England— Anticipations of death
MRS. HEMANS. 255
— A poet's Dying Hymn — Jebb and Knox's corres-
pondence—Silvio Pellico's " Prigione " — Coleridge's
letter to his godchild— Retszch's outlines to Schiller's
"Song of the Bell."
There is no subject of contemplation more in-
teresting or more impressive than the last years
of the lives of poets. It is saddening, indeed,
to consider how many gifted ones have been
summoned from earth before their mission was
accomplished ; some, as it were, snatched away
in the midst of a whirlwind, leaving nothing be-
hind them save wild and forlorn fragments of
song—some, sinking down exhausted by long
wanderings through snares and mazes which
they had wilfully and deliberately entered — some
smitten with death in life, the victims of a brood-
ing or angry madness. But, in proportion as these
examples of noble spirits quenched — wasted —
shattered — humble our pride in human genius
and human intellect, it is gladdening to regard
the progress of those, too sensitive or scornful
by nature, who were permitted to live till calm-
•256 MEMORIALS OF
ness, and thought, and humility, had taken the
places of passion, and waywardness, and self-
approval ; — who became not only willing to wait
their appointed time, but earnest to do their part
in serving their fellow-men, by opening the
innermost treasure-chambers of truth and
poetry, to the few who have eyes to see and
hearts to conceive ; or by singing simple and
fanciful songs in the ear of the plainer day-
labourer, winning him by gentle influences from
the too exclusive and narrowing cares of his me-
chanical calling.
It is with such a feeling of satisfaction that the
four years spent by Mrs. Hemans in Ireland are
to be contemplated. In outward circumstances
and comforts, indeed, she gained little by her
change of residence. If not positively com-
pelled to make her poetical talent available as a
source of profit, she still felt honourably bound
to exercise it unceasingly, though, by putting it
forth in a fragmentary form, she was hindered
from producing a work such as she felt she could
MRS. HEMANS. 257
now mature and execute, were time permitted
her. " It has ever been one of my regrets," *
says she in one of her latest letters, " that the
constant necessity of providing sums of money
to meet the exigencies of the boys' education,
has obliged me to waste my mind in what I con-
sider mere desultory effusions : —
' Pouring myself away,
As a wild bird, amidst the foliage, turns
That which within him thrills, and beats and burns
Into a fleeting lay/
" My wish ever was to concentrate all my mental
energy in the production of some more noble
and complete work : something of pure and holy
* I have ventured to extract this letter from the
slight but graceful remembrances of Mrs. Hemans,
which Mrs. Lawrence has added to a volume of her
poems recently published. Was it necessary, how-
ever, to their completeness or authentication, that
all similar memorials should be denounced as trea-
cherous ?
258 MEMORIALS OF
excellence, (if there be not too much presump-
tion iu the thought,) which might permanently
take its place as the work of a British poetess.
I have always, hitherto, written as if in the
breathing-times of storms and billows." . . .
Mrs. Hemans' health, from the time she left
England, was increasingly impaired by the re-
currence of severe attacks of illness, with
periods of convalescence few and far between ;
while the advancing age of the sons remaining
under her care, added a new anxiety to those
which already burthened her. But the years
spent by her in Dublin were probably the
happiest as well as the last of her life. As her
mind became graver, more serene, more con-
sistently religious, those small outward singula-
rities, — which are remembered against her by
some who can jealously or ignorantly forget the
counterbalancing nobleness and guilelessness of
her nature, and the beauty of her genius— fell
away from her, imperceptibly. She had learned
patience, experience, resignation, in her dealings
MRS. HEMANS. 259
with the world — in communing with her art,
her mind was more than ever bent on devotedly
fulfilling what she conceived to be its duties.
Her idea of these may be gathered from a passage
in the papers on Goethe's Tasso — (almost the
one solitary prose composition of her later years)
— which was published in " the New Monthly
Magazine" of January 1834, as the first of a
series of " German Studies." She is speaking of
the poet : " His nature, if the abiding place of
the true light be indeed within him, is endowed
above all others with the tenderest and most
widely-embracing sympathies. Not alone from
the things of the everlasting hills: from the
storms or the silence of midnight skies, will he
seek the grandeur and the beauty, which have
their central residence in a far more majestic
temple We thus admit it essential
to his high office, that the chambers of imagery
in the heart of the poet must be filled with the
materials moulded from the sorrows, the affec-
tions, the fiery trials, and immortal longings of
260 MEMORIALS OF
the human soul. Where love, and faith, and
anguish meet and contend ; where the tones of
prayer are wrung from the suffering spirit
there lie his veins of treasure; there are the
sweet waters ready to flow from the stricken
rock. But he will not seek them through the
gaudy and hurrying masque of artificial life ;
he will not be the fettered Sampson to make
sport for the sons and daughters of fashion.
Whilst he shuns no brotherly communion with
his kind, he will ever reserve to his nature the
power of self-communion, silent hours for
e The harvest of a quiet eye
That broods and sleeps on his own heart,
and inviolate retreats in the depths of his
being — fountains lone and still, upon which only
the eye of heaven shines down in its hallowed
serenity."
The prevailing temper of her mind may be
also gathered, not merely from the poems she
wrote, but from the books in which she took
MRS. HEMANS. 261
her chief delight during the closing years of her
life. She fell back with eagerness upon our
elder English writers, without losing her plea-
sure in the works of such of her contemporaries
as she esteemed heart^sound and genuine : and
while a memorandum before me records the
strength and refreshment she found in the dis-
courses of Bishop Hall, and Leighton, and
Jeremy Taylor, — in the pages of Herbert, and
Marvell, and Izaak Walton, — in the eloquence and
thought of two modern serious authors (I mean
the Rev. Robert Hall, and the accomplished
and forcible author of " the Natural History of
Enthusiasm ;") it speaks also of the gratification
she derived from the translations and criticisms
of Mrs. Austin, — from Mrs. Jameson's liberal
and poetical notices of modern art, and her
" Characteristics of Women," — from Mr. Bul-
wer's passionate and gorgeous fictions, in par-
ticular his " Last Days of Pompeii," — and from
the « Helen " of Miss Edgeworth. A tale called
the " Puritan's Grave," by the late Mr. Scar-
262 MEMORIALS OF
gill, shottld also be mentioned as one of her
favourite works of imagination. A few scattered
notices of other books which she read and
adopted, will be found in the following letters :
and it must not be forgotten, that, to the last,
she took an extraordinary pleasure in all such
works as describe the appearances of nature —
in the sketches of Gilpin, and White of Sel-
borne, and Miss Mitford, and the Howitts. She
used fancifully to call these her " green books,"
and would resort to their pages for refreshment
when her mind was fevered and travel-worn. A
word or two more from the recollections of
the chief companion of her latest years may
be here introduced, as completing the pic-
ture.
" The scriptures were her daily study, and
she also passed much time over the writings of
some of our old divines, particularly Jeremy
Taylor, for whom she had the greatest venera-
tion, As to the poetry she then loved best and
MRS. HEMANS. 263
read oftenest, it was, beyond all comparison,
Wordsworth's. Much as she had admired his
writings before, they became more than ever
endeared to her ; and it is a fact, that during
the four last years of her life, she never, except
when prevented by illness, passed a single day
without reading something of his. I have heard
her say, that Wordsworth and Shelley were once
the spirits contending to obtain the mastery
over her's : that the former soon gained the
ascendency, is not, I think, to be wondered at;
for much as she delighted in Shelley, she pitied
him still more. In defining the distinction
between the genius of Wordsworth and that of
Byron, I remember her saying, that it required
a higher power to still a tempest than to raise
one, and that she considered it the part of the
former to calm, and of the latter to disturb the
mind."
" While all these studies had evidently the
effect of rendering her more peaceful and re-
signed to sorrow and pain— that extreme viva-
264 MEMORIALS OF
city of spirits she had formerly possessed entirely
vanished, and her delicate wit only flashed forth
at intervals of rare occurrence. She seldom
played during this time, save for the amusement
of others ; music, she said, made her so sorrow-
ful as to be quite painful to her."
It may be thought by some that these trifling
details are dwelt upon too much at length. But
I have felt them necessary to the perfect under-
standing of the mind whose history I have
attempted to trace. The extracts from her
familiar correspondence may now be resumed.
" February 3rd, 1832.
. . . . " I was vexed that the packet which
I wished to return to you, was not ready for
either of your two last messengers. I had been
prevented from making it ready and writing to
Miss Jewsbury, with a drawing by Charles, by
the dangerous illness of my servant, (the one
whom you remember as travelling with me, and
MRS. HEMANS. 265
for whom I have a great value,) which engrossed
my, attention both painfully and inconveniently
almost from the day after I last wrote to you.
Not liking to trust her to the care of other ser-
vants, I thought it right to nurse her a good
deal myself, and had not even Charlie at home to
assist me in the office of attendance. She is now,
however, recovered, though I still feel the effects
of the anxiety and fatigue. I received the « Ob-
server' quite safely, and subsequently, also, the
volume by , of which I think exactly as
you do : it certainly possesses much cleverness,
— nothing more, and I was thoroughly tired of
that same Phoenix , who seemed
' To lay her chain-stitched apron by,
And have a finger in the pie' —
whenever any body had any thing to do which
did not concern her. She appears a sort of
general friend of ' every-body's grandmamma :'
from all which collateral claims upon one I
VOL. II. N
266 MEMORIALS OF
shrink too feelingly not to shudder at their in-
troduction into works of fancy. The Bible
dictionary must, I imagine, be reposing in the
mysterious chest, and I should be very grateful
if, at your leisure, you could try to disinter it,
as it would be particularly useful to me just at
present. If, in the course of the same research,
you should happen to meet with an American
translation of the book of Job, which, I think,
may be in the same repository, I should be very
glad to have it also. Now, my dear Mr. , I
hope you will not imagine that any abstruse
polemical discussions are to be the fruit of these
requests for tomes of theologian lore : the truth
is, that I am at present deriving great enjoyment
from the attentive study of the Bible, in the
society of a friend who reads with me, and every
thing that can throw new light upon our pur-
suit is a source of very high gratification to
both.
" Is it possible that I never mentioned Paga-
nini to you ? I ought, indeed, to have told you,
MRS. HEMANS. 267
how completely, and for the first time, my
of music was realized in hearing him ; — how I
seemed to- be borne up into c an ampler ether, a
diviner air,' whilst the spell of the mighty
master was upon me. I am glad that you also
felt and recognised it, as I was sure you would,
because you know I have always considered you
a 'much-enduring man,' in having your real
feeling of music questioned, c probed, vexed, and
criticised.' I wish I could have been near you
when you thus entered the true * music-land,'
where I felt that I breathed for the first time in
hearing Paganini I think ere long
of writing a little dramatic poem : I should be
very glad to know how you like the little scene I
have taken from the life of Blake the painter,
which appears in this month's Blackwood. My
kindest love to all the home circle."
* The word is illegible.
N 2
268 MEMORIALS OF
TO MR. L-
w Upper Pembroke Street, Dublin,
"April 18th, 1832.
" I have just recovered from a long illness,
— a weary low fever, — from which I think I
should scarcely have revived, had not my spirits
been calmer, and my mind happier, than has for
some years been the case. During part of the
time, when I could neither read nor listen to
reading, I lay very meekly upon the sofa, re-
citing to myself almost all the poetry I have
ever read. I composed two or three melodies
also ; but having no one here who can help me
to catch the fugitives, they have taken flight
irrecoverably. I should like to know what you
have been lately composing, and to what poetry.
I wished much that you should have set my
* Swan and Sky-lark,' but think you cannot
have received the letter in which I mentioned
this desire. I have lately written what I con-
sider one of my best pieces — * A Poet's dying
Hymn:' it appeared in the last number of
MRS. HEMANS. 269
Blackwood : I wish that a few of the verses
might strike you as being suitable for music. . . .
. . . " Have you not been disappointed in
Miss Kemble's tragedy ? — to me there seems a
coarseness of idea and expression in many parts,
which, from a woman, is absolutely startling. I
can scarcely think that it has sustaining power
to bear itself up at its present height of popu-
larity. But I must not allow my pen longer
indulgence. I only wrote from an impulse to
inquire after your health and welfare, and to
remind you of an old friend, who is always
" Faithfully yours,
" Felicia Hemans."
The spirit of the last letter, and of others
following, in which their writer speaks of the
manner in which, even upon her sick bed, she
drew comfort and relief from old associations
and enjoyments, — found beautiful utterance in
270 MEMORIALS OF
many of her later poems. Thus, in one of the
" Scenes and Hymns of Life," we find a dying
girl addressing her mother :
• . . "I had lain
Silently, visited by waking dreams,
Yet conscious of thy brooding watchfulness,
Long ere I heard the sound— Hath she brought
flowers ?
Nay, fear not now thy fond child's waywardness,
My thoughtful mother ! — in her chastened soul,
The passion-coloured images of life,
Which, with their sudden, startling flush, awoke
So oft those bursting tears, have died away :
And night is there — still, solemn, holy Night,
With all her stars, and with the gentle tune
Of many fountains, low and musical,
By day unheard. . . ."
In this tone of melancholy resignation the
poem proceeds. Then follow some descriptions
of natural scenes and objects, fresher and more
minutely-faithful than any which are to be
found in Mrs. Hemans' earlier works.
MRS. HEMANS. 271
..." this foam-like meadow sweet
Is from the cool, green, shadowy river-nook,
Where the stream chimes around th' old mossy
stones,
With sounds like childhood's laughter. Is that spot
Lovely as when our glad eyes hailed it first ?
Still doth the golden willow bend, and sweep
The clear brown wave with every passing wind ?
And thro* the shallower waters, where they lie
Dimpling in light, do the veined pebbles gleam
Like bedded gems ? — And the white butterflies
From shade to sun-streak, are they glancing still
Among the poplar boughs ? . . .
Ah ! the pale briar-rose ! touched so tenderly,
As a pure ocean shell, with faintest red
Melting away to pearliness ! I know
How its long, light festoons o'erarching hang
From the grey rock, that rises, altar-like,
With its high-waving crown of mountain-ash
'Midst the lone grassy dell. And this rich bough
Of honey'd woodbine tells me of the oak,
Whose deep midsummer gloom sleeps heavily,
Shedding a verdurous twilight o'er the face
Of the glade's pool. Methinks I see it now :
I look up through the stirring of its leaves
272 MEMORIALS OF
To the intense blue, crystal firmament.
The ring-dove's wing is flitting o'er my head,
Casting at times a silvery shadow down
'Midst the large water-lilies. . ."
"ApriUth, 1832.
. . . "You will grieve to hear that I am
again writing under the pressure of fever, having
had a relapse since my last letter. Dublin is
very full of illness, to say nothing of the dreaded
cholera, which is, indeed, spreading most rapidly :
the alarm is, indeed, indescribable ; but you
know / am not one f to die, many times before
my death,' of fear at least, and my spirits are, on
my own account, perfectly composed. I did
indeed enter into all your feelings of regret and
indignation, excited by those miserable remarks
in ! and to think they should proceed
from the pen which afterwards wrote — ' Poets
are the guardians of admiration in the hearts
of the people ;' — but I am not now equal to the
MRS, HEMANS. 273
expression of all I feel on a subject of such deep
interest to us both." ....
TO MR. L-
"Upper Pembroke Street, May 9th, 1832.
" My dear ,
" I was delighted to hear from you again,
especially as the letter to which you allude
never reached me, and I had therefore been an
unusually long time without any tidings of you.
I am writing to you, literally, from a ' city of the
plague/ I cannot describe the strange thrill of
awe which possessed me, on seeing, a few days
since, one of the black covered litters which
convey infected persons to those places over
which might almost be inscribed Dante's
' Lasciate ogni speranza, voi che titrate.'
The gloomy vehicle went past my windows,
followed by policemen armed with staves to
keep off the populace. Nothing ever pressed
n 5
274 MEMORIALS OF
so forcibly upon me the dark reality of some
evil power sweeping by, like the destroying
Angel of Scripture. My spirits are, however,
perfectly composed, and I have not the least
intention of taking flight, which so many others
are doing in all directions ; the idea of terror
for myself would never occur to me, and I
should suffer far more from leaving those I love
in any danger, than from sharing it with them.
" To pass from this dreary subject. . . . The
next time I write, I will send you t a very fierce
thing,' as my little boys used to call such com-
positions, a Norwegian battle-song, which I
lately wrote, and which was suggested by an old
northern tradition. I am sure it will find
accordant tones in your music, or rather a power
to give it life. I am much pleased to hear that
the melody of « Go forth, for she is gone/ in-
debted as it was greatly to you, has met with
some approbation. The ' Good-night,' is so
simple, both in words and melody, that it might
perhaps please the public taste, which does not
MRS. HEMANS. 275
seem very recondite. My sister is quite en-
chanted with the music of the Chevalier Neu-
komm, and mentions it in every one of her
letters. As I have chosen you for my musical
guide in taste, I should be glad to hear your
opinion of it I have not yet made an
attempt to cage any of my lately-composed
melodies. My illness has left me with such a
tendency to head -ache, that I am obliged to
give myself up still in a great measure to the
4 dolce far niente,' for which it is at least satis-
factory to have so good an excuse.
" Ever believe me most truly yours.
" F. H."
" If you have not yet read « Eugene Aram,'
pray do so. It is a work of power and pathos."
" I have been in a state of great nervous
suffering ever since I last wrote to you ; it is as
if I felt, and more particularly heard, every
276 MEMORIALS OF
thing with unsheathed nerves ; a most trouble-
some increase of capacities to which I can only
hope that my dying some day £ in aromatic
pain,' will effectually put an end. There is a
line of Coleridge's
f O ! for a sleep, for sleep itself to rest in r
I believe I shall require some such quintessence
of repose to restore me. I have several literary
plans for fulfilment as soon as my health allows.
I enjoy much more leisure here than was the
case in England, which is at least one great
advantage."
Aug. 27th, 1832.
" My dear Friend,
" Do not imagine that I am worse because of
these pencilled characters, but the act of stoop-
ing to write has been for several months so
hurtful to me, that I have at length determined
MRS. HEMANS. 277
on adopting this method, until the painful
tendency of blood to the head from which I
have been suffering seems to be conquered.
If you find my letters legible in this
present form, they will not retard my recovery,
as I can write them whilst reclining backward.
How I thank you for trusting me as you do !
If I were not to write for a twelvemonth, you
would never doubt my faithful remembrance,
and you would have no cause I
thank you for directing me to the paper on
Boswell's Johnson in Fraser : had it not been
for your recommendation I should never have
opened the Magazine But this one
article, with its manly, sincere, true English
feeling, did indeed well repay me ; I prefer it to
anything I have read of Carlyle's since that
delightful paper on Burns : but I must own
I am sometimes out of patience with the fan-
tastic falso-Gothic of his style ; it makes all
his writings seem like a very bad translation
of fine German thoughts. I have been living
278 MEMORIALS OF
amid fearful scenes since I last wrote to you :
the dark angel of the pestilence has been
sweeping down high and low; and is again
returned among us, apparently after having
retreated. There is every reason to suppose, from
the habits of this strange and reckless people,
that it will take deep root among them, and
long be the upas-tree of Irish soil. Your
Polish chief would interest me greatly, but do
not advise his coming to Dublin unless he has
private or personal reasons. The public atten-
tion of this place is wholly divided between
party politics and fashionable rivalries, nothing
else has the least chance of awakening it
You will long ago, I think, have discovered that
I dislike Ireland. I have, indeed, continued
but for one or two friends, but they are very
dear ones, ■ a stranger and a sojourner in this
land,' and I daily withdraw more and more
from its glaring, noisy, and unintellectual
society. Pray tell me when you write whether
you can decypher my hand in this form. It will
MRS. HEMANS. 279
spare me much suffering if my friends will for a
time receive my correspondence thus.
M Ever most faithfully yours,
"F. H."
In another letter, dated from the country
where she was casually visiting, Mrs. Hemans
writes with something of her old playfulness.
" The society of the neighbourhood seems
as borne as usual in most country places. I
appear to be regarded as rather a 'curious
thing;' the gentlemen treat me as I suppose
they would the muse Calliope, were she to de-
scend amongst them ; that is, with much solemn
reverence, and constant allusions to poetry;
the ladies, every time I happen to speak, look
as if they expected sparks of fire, or some other
marvellous thing, would proceed from my lips,
as from those of the Sea-Princess in Arabian
280 MEMORIALS OF
fiction. If I were in higher spirits, I should be
strongly tempted to do something very strange
amongst them, in order to fulfil the ideas I ima-
gine they entertain of that altogether foreign
monster, a Poetess, but I feel too much sub-
dued for such capricci at present"
After recording the opinion here expressed
of Irish society, there is every temptation to
name the exceptions, " the near and dear
friends," whose companionship was a compen-
sation for its deficiencies. But those only
whose names are already before the world, can,
with any propriety, be particularized. With the
family of Sir William, then Professor Hamil-
ton, Mrs. Hemans held frequent and friendly
intercourse : in Colonel D^Aguilar, she found
an accomplished companion in the hours of
health, a steadfast friend in the time of sickness;
and one of the sonnets, published among her
Poetical Remains, addressed to the venerable
MRS. HEMANS. 281
Dr. Percival, commemorates another highly-
prized intimacy. It is affecting to think, that
he to whom it is addressed, should have sur-
vived the writer.
" Not long thy voice amongst us may be heard
Servant of God ! thy day is almost done, —
The charm now hung upon thy look and word,
Is that which lingers round the setting sun,
A power which bright decay hath meekly won,
Still from revering love." ....
" August, 1832.
"In my literary pursuits I fear I
shall be obliged to look out for a regular
amanuensis. I sometimes retain a piece of
poetry several weeks in my memory from actual
dread of writing it down. But enough of this
long explanation, the very length of which,
however, you must consider as a proof how
much I desire you to think of me as unchanged.
How sorry I was not to see your
282 MEMORIALS OF
friend Neukomm ! We were playing at cross-
purposes the whole time of his stay in Dublin ;
but I did hear his organ playing, and glorious
it was, — a mingling of many powers. I sent,
too, for the volume you recommended to me,
the « Saturday Evening :' surely it is a noble
work, so rich in the thoughts that create
thoughts. I am so glad you liked my little
summer- breathing song,* I assure you it quite
* The song is "The Summer's Call/' afterwards
published among the National Lyrics. In the music
of its versification and the luxury of its natural
imagery, it would be difficult to find its superior in
modern poetry. The following two verses, I think,
justify this high praise.
" All the air is filled with sound,
Soft, and sultry, and profound ;
Murmurs through the shadowy grass,
Lightly stray ;
Faint winds whisper as they pass —
Come away !
MRS. HEMANS. 283
consoled me for the want of natural objects of
beauty around to heap up their remembered
images in one wild strain. The dark pestilence
has re-appeared among us. * Oh ! there have
been such sights within our streets ! p Well,
dear Cousin, farewell, most kindly; I do beg
you to trust in your unchanged friend,
* F. H."
Where the bee's deep music swells
From the trembling fox-glove bells,
Come away !
Now each tree by summer crowned
Sheds its own rich twilight round ;
Glancing there from sun to shade.
Bright wings play ;
There the deer its couch hath made —
Come away !
Where the smooth leaves of the lime
Glisten in their honey-time —
Come away— away !"
284 MEMORIALS OF
20, Dawson Street, Jan. 29, 1833.
" I had begun a letter to you so long
since, that having been interrupted both by
illness and the weariness of another removal,
it appeared quite passte when I again looked
at its commencement, and I determined upon
writing another ; I was, indeed, grieved to think
of your having been so seriously ill, and to feel
that distance now prevented me from trying to
cheer you more effectively than by a letter ; and
my own state of health is such as to cause me
frequently great distress and inconvenience.
I do not mean so much from the actual suffering
attendant upon it, as from its making the exer-
tion of writing, at times, not merely irksome,
but positively painful to me ; this is, I believe,
caused entirely by irregular action of the heart,
which affects my head with oppressive fulness,
and sudden flushing of the cheeks and temples.
All my pursuits are thus constantly interfered
with ; but I do not wish this to convey to you
the language of complaint, I am only anxious
MRS. HEMANS. 285
that it should give assurance of kind and grate-
ful recollection ; that it should convince you of
my being unchanged in cordial interest, and
silent only from causes beyond my power to
overrule. I thought of you all, and of you
especially, on New Year's-eve, which I always
used to pass at your hearth. I remembered my
own place on the sofa, my little table, and the
kindly < familiar faces' which used to surround
it, and I spoke affectionately of these things to
a friend who passed the evening with me. Do
not suppose it possible that my mind could be
alienated from these memories, though circum-
stances the most singular, perhaps, in all my
troubled life, have bound me to a land of stran-
gers, a land of storm and perplexity. ... I
witnessed some days since a very remarkable, I
might say portentous, scene — the procession of
O'Connell through the city after his victory.
He was attended by not less, it is computed,
than a hundred thousand followers. There is
something fearfully grand in the gathering of
286 MEMORIALS OF
such a multitude. A harper, with harp of the
old national form, and many insignia of ancient
Ireland, preceded his triumphal car, and the
tri-color (much at variance with all these
antique associations) was displayed in every
form around him. But nothing struck me more
in the whole strange procession than the coun-
tenance of the demagogue himself; it was stern,
sullen, full of suppressed storm, instead of any
thing like triumphal expression ; it is said, that
he feared an attempt at assassination that very
day; certainly the character of his countenance
was dark and inscrutable I am at
present lodging in the house of some devoted
Catholics ; they have an altar in the house, with
a Madonna, before which candles are set every
night. I could almost have fancied myself in
Mrs. RatclinVs visionary world when I first
made the discovery. I wish you were likely to
visit Dublin again ; but pray write if it be not
hurtful to you, and tell me of yourself, and that
you think of me with the same interest as ever.
MRS. HEMANS. 287
I am commencing a volume of sacred poetry,
'Hymns of Life* I call them, as they are to
take a wide range of thought and subject. If
you have seen any of my late pieces tell me
your thoughts of them. My kindest regards
to ; I will write to him in a day or two.
When he knows that I was obliged to remove
almost immediately after hearing from him, he
will not wonder that I did not write before.
My love to and dear ."
Early in 1833, Mrs. Hemans was again se-
verely attacked by illness, which interrupted
her correspondence with her English friends.
Dawson Street, March 17, 1833.
" I am sure you will have real pleasure in
hearing that I begin to feel something like
symptoms of reviving health; perseverance in
288 MEMORIALS OF
the quiescent system, which seems almost essen-
tial to my life, is producing by slow degrees,
the desired effect. You must not think that it
is my own fault if this system is ever departed
from. I desire nothing but a still, calm, medi-
tative life ; but this is exactly w r hat my position,
obliged as I am 6 to breast a stormy world alone,'
most precludes me from. Hence, I truly believe,
and from no original disorder of constitution,
arises all that I have to bear of sickness and
nervous agitation. Certainly, before this last
and severest attack, I had gone through enough
of annoyance and even personal fatigue, to try
a far more robust frame ; imagine three re-
movals, and these Irish removals, for me, be-
tween October and January ! Each was unavoid-
able, but I am now, I trust, settled with people
of more civilised habits, and think myself
likely to remain here quietly. How difficult it
is, amidst these weary, heart-wearing, narrow
cares, to keep bright and pure the immortal
MRS. HEMANS. 289
spark within ! Yet I strive, above all things, to
be true in this, and turn, with even deeper and
more unswerving love, to the holy ' spirit-land,'
and guard it with more and more of watchful
care, from the intrusion of all that is heartless
and worldly. I find Milton, and Wordsworth,
and Channing, my ministering angels in this
resolve. I scarcely pass a day without com-
munion with some of their thoughts — thoughts
fit indeed to ' hand down the lamp of life * from
one age to another ; and oh, how much needed
in this! Dr. Channing, I fear, is not pleased
with me for my long silence I am
very glad you kindly told him of my present
illness . You cannot conceive the
difficulty of procuring respectable, and at all
private, lodgings in Dublin; everything is for
show and fashion, nothing for domestic feeling
and delicate health. I could not help making
an observation to an Irish friend this morning,
which was admitted to be most characteristic of
this country, that domestic tastes and habits
VOL. II, o
290 MEMORIALS OF
here require as much apology as dissipated ones
in England. Fiesco* was performed in the
public theatre here, and, considering the undra-
matic taste of the place, very well received ; it
was splendidly got up as to scenery, &c. &c.
but the closing scene has a very bad effect in
performance, and quite convinced me that a
hero should never be seen tumbling down. The
whole was, of course, greatly curtailed. I wish
I had room to describe to you the ludicrous
effect produced by a rouged, stuffed man, who
recited my poor prologue, nourishing a large
cocked-hat in an irresistible manner, to grace all
my best passages. But my head will not allow
me to add more than that I am ever,
" most faithfully yours,
« F. H."
" Do remember me kindly to the Howitts.
I quite love all they write-"
* This play, it will be remembered, was translated
by Colonel D'Aguilar.
MRS. HEMANS. 291
The next letter of the series speaks more de-
spondingly of the future. After having entered
at length into the question of establishing one of
her sons in mercantile life, Mrs. Hemans writes —
" I know not that I can make for him any
better choice than that of this profession, and
the many warnings which my health gives me,
and the increasing reluctance of my spirit (which
seems withdrawing itself more and more strongly
from earthly things as my health declines) to cope
with worldly difficulties, make me very anxious
to do what I can 6 whilst it is yet day.' . . .
To speak of brighter things, I cannot deny my-
self the pleasure of sending you, as in the good
days of the Saturday's post, the enclosed letter
for your delectation. When you have read and
laughed at it — for laugh you cannot help — pray
give it to to enrich a little store of such
originalities, which I believe he is collecting. Is
my geranium still blooming? You have not
told me of it for a long time."
o 2
292 MEMORIALS OF
" June 15th, 1833.
" My dear Mr. ,
" How grieved and vexed I was to miss —
you may well imagine, and to miss him, too, in
consequence of so complete a mistake, for I had
only driven for a few miles into the country on
the morning of his visit. Will you tell him that
my friend went on the same evening to
the hotel where his note was dated, in order to
make every inquiry respecting him, but could
get no further intelligence until I received his
second note. I troubled you lately with the
care of a letter to , from the sight of which
you would augur some improvement in my
health, which, indeed, I have cause gratefully
to acknowledge, though I continue my habit of
writing as much with pencil as I can, finding
the attitude far less injurious to me than that
required by pen and ink. I longed for you
very much a few days since, when the newly-
published conclusion of * Faust* was sent to
MRS. HEMANS. 293
me by a very kind German acquaintance I have
lately met with. But, alas ! alas ! my poor
feminine intellects were soon nearly as much
bewildered as those of our good , by * that
celestial colloquy sublime ' once held with Cole-
ridge, and though I do not, like him, pique my-
self upon the i clearness of my ideas,' I really
was obliged to give up the perusal, finding the
phantasmagoria it called up before my eyes,
rapid and crowded enough almost to give me a
fever. I mean to try it again, as my German
friend advises me, but I shall need the assistance
of the fairy Order herself to clear my way
through the mazy dance of Ariel, the Sylphs,
Helen of Greece, Thales, Xenocrates, Baucis,
Philemon, the Sphinx, Mary Magdalen, the
woman of Samaria, and all the other person-
ages, divine and human, whose very names
throng the pages so as to make me dizzy. Have
you seen *s prose translation of the earlier
Faust? What think you of its spirit? He
seems, in my opinion, to have rather too much
294 MEMORIALS OF
of the Mephistophiles spirit about himself, to
enter fully into the spirit of Faust At least,
there is something so very ungracious in his
heaping together the blunders of all former
translators, in order to raise himself upon the
pile, (like the bridge of dead men, in one of
Joanna Baillie's tragedies, described as the path
over which to enter the besieged city,) that I
am not inclined to give him * a single sous ■ of
my good will Do tell me whether
you find any difficulty in reading my pencil de-
spatches. I certainly ought not to add to your
plagues in this way." ....
The autumn of the year 1833 was most hap-
pily varied to Mrs. Hemans, by a very short visit
from her sister. " Delightful, indeed," writes
the latter, " was it to meet after so long a sepa-
ration ; but I found my dear sister sadly worn
MRS. HEMANS. 295
and faded, and her health very fragile, though
she rallied wonderfully, and was quite her old
self while we were with her She
is at present occupied, when at all able to write,
on a collection of sacred lyrics, and what she has
named 4 Hymns of Life,' and her mind is stored
with many other projects, if it please God to
grant health for their accomplishment." In
another letter, written after Mrs. Hemans* de-
cease, reference is made to this visit. " It
is indeed true, that she had not reached
the full strength of her powers. Much as I had
previously known of the wonderful resources of
her mind, I was impressed and astonished,
during our visit to Dublin a year and a half
ago, by its developements and inspirations. . .
. . . Little did I think how soon that
awful curtain was to fall, which separates us,
still busied from our earthly cares, from those
who
c Their worldly task have done,
Home have gone, and ta'en their wages.'
296 MEMORIALS OF
These very words she repeated to me one day
while I was with her, as what might soon be
applicable to herself, and the circumstance of
her sinking to rest on the Saturday evening,
brought them most touchingly back to my re-
membrance."
The later months of this year were busily
spent by Mrs. Hemans in arranging and pre-
paring for publication the three collections of
poems which made their appearance in the
course of the following spring and summer. The
first of these were the " Hymns for Childhood,"
and the " National Lyrics, and Songs for Music."
Having already spoken of Mrs. Hemans' skill
and sweetness as a song-writer, and of her hap-
piness in perceiving and appropriating the most
striking traits of national character, I shall only
linger over the last-mentioned volume to point
out one poem of singular beauty which it con-
tains — "The Haunted House." The "Scenes
and Hymns of Life," however, must not be passed
so hastily. The strong desire which had recently
MRS. HEMANS. 297
possessed their author, to devote her powers to
compositions of the highest and holiest order,
has been indicated in the foregoing letters. It
is almost needless to observe, that her mind,
naturally of too fine a structure and too keen a
vision to be possessed for an instant by secta-
rianism, was expanded, and not narrowed, by an
increased conscientiousness of motive and lofti-
ness of aim ; that she was more than ever inca-
pable of adding to the number of those familiar
and fulsome versions of Scripture so presump-
tuously thrust forward, and so ignorantly ac-
cepted as sacred poetry. She wished to enlarge
its sphere, — to use her own words, — u by asso-
ciating with its themes, more of the emotions, the
affections, and even the purer imaginative en-
joyments of daily life, than had hitherto been ad-
mitted within the hallowed circle." And the
fulfilment of this high purpose was beautifully
shadowed forth, if not wholly executed, in the
" Scenes and Hymns of Life." None, however,
who have ever written, have suffered from self-
o 5
298 MEMORIALS OF
distrust more severely than she did, from feeling
the impossibility of doing justice to her own
conceptions, of giving adequate utterance to the
thoughts which arose within her, all the more
brightly and fervently as she approached the
close of her career.
* " They float before my soul, the fair designs
Which I would body forth to life aud power,
Like clouds, that with their wavering hues and lines
Pourtray majestic buildings: dome and tower,
Bright spire that through the rainbow and the
shower
Points to th' unchanging stars ; and high arcade,
Far sweeping to some glorious altar, made
For holiest rites : meanwhile the waning hour
Melts from me, and by fervent dreams o'erwrought
I sink."
And in a letter written about the same time as
* " Desire and Performance," written in the autumn
of 1834, and printed among Mrs. Hemans' " Poetical
Remains."
MRS, HEMANS. 299
the sonnet whence the above lines are taken,
she says, H I find in the Athenaeum of last week*
a brief but very satisfactory notice of the ' Scenes
and Hymns:' the volume is recognised as my
best work, and the course it opens out called
a 'noble path.' My heart is growing faint —
shall I have power given me to tread that way
much further ? I trust that God may make me
at least submissive to his will, whatever that
may be." She would also say, that could she
ever equal Coleridge , s " Hymn in the Valley of
Chamouni," which she considered as the per-
fection of sacred poetry, she could desire no-
thing more. It cannot be said that she ever
reached the excellence of that noble production,
but she approached it in some of her latest
poems — in the " Easter Day in a Mountain
Churchyard," — and yet more closely in the last
and greatest of her lyrics, " Despondency and
Aspiration."
This volume of " Scenes and Hymns of Life "
contains also manv beautiful sonnets, or, more
300 MEMORIALS OF
strictly speaking, quatuorzains ; for in none of
them are the rigorous and characteristic forms
of the legitimate sonnet observed. In this vein
of composition, hitherto unworked by her, Mrs.
Hemans found a welcome resource. She could
often record her passing thoughts, the precious
solace of her sick bed, in the small compass of
a sonnet, when she would have been unable to
summon her energies for the completion of a
longer work. It had now become her habit to
dictate her poems; and she would sometimes
compose and perfect long passages, or even en-
tire lyrics, and retain them in her memory many
days before they were committed to paper.
But the interest with which she threw herself
upon these new projects did not so far engross
her, as to prevent her from sympathising in the
good or evil fortune which befel her friends ; or
from bearing a part, when it was possible, in
forwarding their plans and wishes. Of this the
letters with which the memorials of the year
1834 open, offer a sufficient proof; the apology
MRS. HEMANS. 301
for the publication of passages so exclusively
personal, has been already made, and I hope
accepted.
The next passage, — the last lively extract that
these pages will contain, — refers to an ex*
cursion into Wicklow, undertaken about this
time.
« August, 1833.
" I did not forget my promise to write last
night, but the weariness following another day of
difficulty and disappointment, took away from
me all power of fulfilment. I am sure you will
be sorry to hear that I have not yet been able
to leave the inn, as all the places to which I had
been directed proved so many will-o'-the-wisps,
only luring me on to one fatigue after the other.
Mr. Martin's lodge, Mr. Keegan's cottage, &c.
&c, have all vanished from the earth (if ever they
had « a local habitation and a name ') as com-
pletely as Aladdin's palace ; and as for Messrs.
Martin and Keegan themselves, I suspect them
302 MEMORIALS OF
verily to be cavern-haunting rebel leaders, of
whom it is thought politic to be entirely igno-
rant; so stoutly did the people in the neigh-
bourhood of the waterfall deny any knowledge
of any such characters. Had I been in better
spirits, I could have been much amused with
the humours of my driver, which far out-Herod-
ed even those of Mr. Donelly himself; he was a
loquacious old man, combining into singularly
original harmony, the several characteristics of
Methodist, Irishman, and sailor, in each of which
capacities he seemed to conceive a sort of
paternal interest for the welfare of my soul and
body — ' Aye, ma'am dear, I'll do my best for
you ; I'll help you to quiet quarters ; truly, an
hotel that gentlemen come into singing their
sinful songs all through the night, is no place
for a lady like you.*' ' Now look to your star-
board side, ma'am, and tell me, would you just
like that cottage ?' Then his piece of parting
advice — w Now just get yourself a comfortable
dinner, and don't ask for any port wine, for it's
MRS. HEMANS.' 303
confounded bad you 11 get it. — I '11 tell you the
truth, that I will; it's little encouragement my
master gives me to tell anything else for him/
I am afraid I have lost a great many precious
pearls of eloquence, but the above will give you
some idea of their character. The scenery
round the waterfall, though of exquisite beauty,
is much spoiled, to my taste, by the lounging,
eating, and flirting groups, who disturb what
nature meant to be the depth of stillness and se-
clusion. I have heard of another cottage this even-
ing, respecting which Anna is gone to inquire :
whether it be called up solely by the Irish spirit
of invention, (which I am now convinced can
raise up cottages and lodges when demanded,
as readily as a southern improvisatore calls up
rhymes,) remains to be proved. If I am again
disappointed, I think I shall perhaps examine
the neighbourhood of Bray to-morrow. I dis-
like an inn so much, and always feel so parti-
cularly forlorn in such places, that I shall, if un-
successful, return very soon to Dublin. I am
304 MEMORIALS OF
certainly in all things of this nature, at least
since I came to Ireland, a female * Murad the
Unlucky,* and nature evidently intended me for
his wife I hope you will not find
this, written with the very worst pen (I will not
say ' the worst inn's worst pen') an inn can pro-
duce, wholly illegible." , . , .
"Jan. 26 th, 1834.
. . . " I scarcely know, my dear »
whether or not to congratulate you on having at
last so gallantly launched yourself upon the
tumultuous yet dazzling sea, which has been so
long the arena of your hopes. ... I only fear
that you may sometimes want some one like
your old friend to be near you, 'to babble of
green fields' and primroses, and win you back
occasionally to childhood and nature, and all
fresh and simple thoughts, — from those gorgeous
images of many-coloured artificial life by which
you will be surrounded, and which may possibly,
MRS. HEMANS. 305
at first, seize on your spirit with irresistible
sway. But I am convinced that nothing really
worthy and permanent in literature (such as I
sincerely think you have the power with steadfast
purpose to achieve) is ever built up except on
the basis of simplicity ; and I am sure that the
widest reach of knowledge will always have the
blessed tendency to make us more and more
like 'little children' in this respect. But you
will think I am going to take up one of my old
lectures on your love of the gorgeous, to which
you used so dutifully to listen in the days of the
Imp Mazurka. Have you forgotten that last
precious flight of fancy, which still startles all
my musical visitors when they open the 'litel
boke' from which its necromantic visage stares
into their astonished eyes ? . . . You will not,
1 think, be sorry to hear that many of your
favourite old friends among my compositions,
such as ' The Rhine Song,' < The Song of Delos,'
'. The last Lay of Sappho,' &c. &c. are about to
appear in a little volume published here, and
306 MEMORIALS OF
entitled ' National Lyrics, and Songs for Music.'
... I have many literary plans, which I am
sure would interest you. I have to thank my
God, who keeps the fountain of high thoughts
still, I trust, unsoiled and unexhausted in my
secret soul. Accept my sincere, I may say af-
fectionate, wishes for your well-being in all
things; and believe me, with an interest in
your career of which you must never doubt,
" Your faithful friend,
«F. H."
" When you write to the Howitts, I wish you
would give my very kind remembrance to Mary : I
read every thing of theirs that I can meet with."
"Feb. 9th, 1834.
..." I cannot now enter into many par-
ticulars of your letter, which gave me sincere
pleasure, and have satisfied me that many of the
dangers I feared for you no longer exist. I de-
MRS. HEMANS. 307
light in the idea of your ' Stories of Art,' parti-
cularly the thought relating to the Middle Ages,
the spirit of which, in art, particularly in some
of their grand, thoughtful, monumental memo-
rials, has never, I think, been duly appreciated.
Did you ever read a description of that majestic
and singular monument, of Maximilian II., I
think, surrounded with its awful battalion of
colossal bronze figures, in a church at Inspruck ?
I think you might connect some very striking
tale, with a work so impressive and compara-
tively so little known." . . .
"May 8th, 1834.
..." Let me not forget to tell you how sen-
sibly I was touched by your kind offer of resign-
ing to me your long-cherished fancy, the ' Tales
of Art.* ... I could not, however, for many
* A rumour had gone abroad that Mrs. Hemans
was meditating a prose work ; and the writer was
anxious to turn her attention to a subject which he
308 MEMORIALS OF
reasons, avail myself of this sacrifice on your
part, my dear friend. I have now passed through
the feverish, and somewhat visionary, state of
mind, often connected with the passionate study
of art in early life; — deep affection and deep
sorrows seem to have solemnized my whole be-
ing, and I now feel as if bound to higher and
holier tasks, which, though I may occasionally
lay aside, I could not long wander from with-
out some sense of dereliction. I am sure you
can well understand, and will not fail to enter
into, all this : I hope it is no self-delusion, but
I cannot help sometimes feeling as if it were
my true task to enlarge the sphere of sacred
poetry, and extend its influence. When you
receive my volume of ' Scenes and Hymns,' you
will see what I mean by enlarging its sphere,
though my plans are as yet imperfectly deve-
loped. ... I am grown, as you will have ob-
served, extremely fond of the sonnet: I think
believed to be in consonance with her own tastes, and
to which none could have done more thorough justice
than herself.
MRS. HEMANSr 309
the practice of writing it very improving, both
as to concentration of thought and facility of
language." . . •
" May 4th, 1834.
" My dear ,
" A very long interval has elapsed since I last
wrote to you. I know well that no such inter-
val will ever lessen your unfailing interest in me,
and that you will hear with pleasure of its hav-
ing been one of tranquillity, at least comparative.
It certainly has not passed without, some im-
provement in my health of body and mind, and
I sometimes even fancy that a new spring of
energy is, or yet will be, given to both, from
the strong hopes and aspirations which occa-
sionally spring up within me, when the over-
bearing pressure of external circumstances is a
little removed. I have been busily employed in
the completion of what I do hope you will think
my best volume— the ' Scenes and Hymns of
310 MEMORIALS OF
Life ;' though Blackwood's impatience to bring
it out speedily has rather prevented my deve-
loping the plan as completely as I have wished.
I regard it, however, as an undertaking to be
carried on and thoroughly wrought out during
several years; as the more I look for indications of
the connexion between the human spirit and its
eternal Source, the more extensively I see those
traces open before me, and the more indelibly
they appear stamped upon our mysterious na-
ture. I cannot but think that my mind has
both expanded and strengthened during the con-
templation of such things, and that it will thus
by degrees arise to a higher and purer sphere of
action than it has yet known. If any years of
peace and affection be granted to my future
life, I think I may prove that the discipline of
storms has, at least, not been without purifying
and ennobling influence. I shall not have
wearied you, my dear friend, by what would
have seemed mere egotism to most others, but
I always feel, with reference to you, that your
MRS. HEMANS. 311
regard is really best repaid by a true unfolding
of my mind, with its changeful inner life." . . .
« May, 1834.
" I have been really cheered and delighted
by some passages of a new work — ' Philip van
Artavelde ' — and more particularly by parts of
its noble preface contained in the Athenaeum of
to-day. I feel assured that you will greet as gladly
as myself the rising up of what appeared to be a
majestic mind amongst us; and the putting
forth of really strengthening and elevating views
respecting the high purposes of intellectual
power. I have already sent to order the book,
feeling that it will be quite an addition to the
riches of my mental estate
It was about this time that, after a long and
anxious period of suspense and silence, the ru-
mour of the death of one of Mrs. Hemans' most
attached friends, which had for some time been
312 MEMORIALS OF
whispered about, was confirmed by the arrival
of letters from India. The last communications
which had passed between Mrs. Fletcher and
her English friends, had been so full of life and
expectation — the artless and graphic journals
of one to whom every strange object suggested a
new thought, or supplied a new spring of ex-
ertion — that it was difficult to believe that
so eager a spirit was laid at rest for ever —
on the threshold, as it were, of scenes and duties
which must have called forth all its powers.
The fragments immediately following, from letters
addressed by Mrs. Hemans to different friends,
refer to this melancholy event. The repetitions
they contain evidence the sincerity of their
writer's regret.
« June 28th, 1834.
" I was, indeed, deeply and permanently af-
fected by the untimely fate of one so gifted, and
so affectionately loving me, as our poor lost
friend. It hung the more heavily upon my
spirits as the subject of death and the mighty
MRS. HEMANS. 313
future had so many many times been that of our
most confidential communion. How much deeper
power seemed to lie coiled up, as it were, in the
recesses of her mind, than was ever manifested to
the world in her writings ! Strange and sad
does it seem, that only the broken music of such
a spirit have been given to the earth — the full
and finished harmony never drawn forth ! Yet I
would rather, a thousand times, that she should
have perished thus, in the path of her chosen
duties, than have seen her become the merely
brilliant creature of London literary life, living
upon those poor succes de societe, which I think
utterly ruinous to all that is lofty, and holy, and
delicate in the nature of a highly-endowed wo-
' ' I was ill in bed all yesterday
from having walked too much and got a little
wet, but am now a good deal better, though my
spirits have been depressed ever since the tidings
VOL. II. p
314 MEMORIALS OF
of my poor friend's death arrived. I never ex-
pected to meet her again in this life, but there
was a strong chain of interest between us, that
spell of mind on mind, which, once formed,
can never be broken. I felt, too, that my whole
nature was understood and appreciated by her,
and this is a sort of happiness which I consider
the most rare in all earthly affection. Those who
feel and think deeply, whatever playfulness of
manner may brighten the surface of their cha-
racter, are fully unsealed to very few indeed.
You must not be surprised to see me wearing a
slight mourning when we meet; I know she
would have put it on for me. Dearest , I
could say much more to you on her character,
and my own feelings with regard to her loss —
they have been the more solemn from this cause
— that the subject of death and the mighty
future had been many times that of our deepest
conversation. With all my regret, I had rather,
a thousand times, that she had perished thus
in the path of her duties and the brightness of
MRS. HEMANS. 315
her improving mind, than become, what I once
feared was likely, the merely brilliant creature
of London life : that is, indeed, a worthless lot
for a nobly-gifted woman's nature ! I send you
the second volume of ' Phantasmagoria,' since
you liked the first, but it was the production
of quite an immature mind, in a youth which had
many disadvantages."
" July, 1834.
.... "Will you tell Mr. Wordsworth
this anecdote of poor Mrs. Fletcher ? I am sure
it will interest him. During the time that the
famine in the Deccan was raging, she heard that a
poor Hindoo woman had been found lying dead
in one of the temples at the foot of an idol, and
with a female child, still living, in her arms.
She and her husband immediately repaired to
the spot, took the poor little orphan away with
them> and conveyed it to their own home. She
tended it assiduously, and one of her last cares
p 2
316 MEMORIALS OF
was to have it placed at a female missionary
school, to be brought up as a Christian. My
sister informs me that her terror of death seemed
quite subdued at the last, and that she sank
away quite calmly, in utter exhaustion." . . .
" July 4th, 1834.
" You will, I know, be glad to hear that I am
now much better than when Charles wrote to
you. I was not well when the news of our
poor friend's death arrived, and was much over-
come by it, and almost immediately afterwards,
coming to Dublin, I was obliged to exert
myself in a way altogether at variance with my
feelings. All these causes have thrown me
back a good deal, but I am now surmounting
them, and was yesterday able to make one of a
party in an excursion to a little mountain tarn
about twelve miles from Dublin. The strangely
deserted character of the country long before
MRS. HEMANS. 317
this object is reached, indeed at only seven or
eight miles distance from the metropolis, is quite
astonishing to English eyes. A wide mountain-
tract of country, in many parts without a sign
of human life, or trace of culture or habitation
as far as the sight can reach — magnificent views
bursting upon you every now and then, but all
deep solitude, and the whole traversed by a
noble road, a military work I was told, the only
object of which seemed to be a large barrack in
the heart of the hills, now untenanted, but abso-
lutely necessary for the safety of Dublin not
many years since. Then we reached a little
lake, lying clear, and still, and dark, but spark-
ling all over to the sun, as with innumerable
fire-flies, high green hills sweeping down with-
out shore or path, except on one side, into its
very bosom, and all round the same deep silence.
I was only sorry that one dwelling, and that, of
all things, a cottage orne, stood on its bank ;
for though it was like a scene of enchantment
to enter and look upon the lonely pool and
318 MEMORIALS OF
solemn mountains, through the coloured panes
of a richly-carved and oak-pannelled apartment,
still the charm of nature was in some degree
broken by the association of wealth and refine-
ment. But how my imagination is carrying me
away in the effort to. give you some idea of the
lone and wild Lough Bray ! I must return to
worldly matters, as I was obliged to do from the
wild hills and waters yesterday. I was some-
what surprised at rather an un-
gentlemanly review of my ' Lyrics ' — the first
indeed of that kind of which I ever knew my-
self to be the object. Very probably there may
be more such in existence, but you know my
habitual indifference to such things, (now greatly
increased,) and I scarcely ever read any re-
marks upon myself either in praise or other-
wise. Certainly no critic will ever have to boast
of inflicting my death-blow She
(Mrs. Fletcher) has, indeed, been taken away in
the very prime of her intellectual life, wlien
every moment seemed fraught with new trea-
MRS. HEMANS. 319
sures of knowledge and power, but I fully agree
with you that she was not born for earthly happi-
ness : — alas ! and those who are, can they hope
to find it ? I shall have wearied you, my dear
friend, and will say farewell."
"July, 1834.
. . . " Since I wrote last, I have read Philip
van Artavelde. It is a fine thoughtful work,
but certainly, I think, rather wanting — as one
might perhaps expect — in those ingredients of
imagination and passion, which, though their
value as the sole element of poetry has been
overrated, yet will always be felt to constitute
essential ones. The intellect is constantly ex-
cited by this author to examine, reflect, and
combine ; but the heart is seldom awakened ;
and I cannot think him a master-poet, who does
not sway both those regions, though to few is
given an equal domination over them. Shak-
speare, however, possessed it; and those who
320 MEMORIALS OF
take him for their model, have no right to exalt
any one poetic faculty at the expense of the
others."
" August 6th, 1834.
" My dear ,
" I fear I shall have caused you a little anxi-
ety, which I much regret, as you, I know, will
regret my heavy disappointment, when I tell you
that I have been obliged sorrowfully to give up
the hope of visiting England at present*
* Mrs. Hemans had been intending to revisit the
Lakes. Perhaps the natural disappointment at being
compelled to relinquish a favourite plan, made her
somewhat uncharitable to the far-famed scenery within
her reach ;— for in an extract from another letter,
written about this time, she says: —
" Last week I was induced to go for foyr days into
Wicklow again. We got as far as the Vale of Avoca,
which I think has been rather over-rated. The only
thing I can say I enjoyed in the least, was a walk I
took in the wildest part of Glenmalure, which I
MRS. HEMANS. • 321
Whether from the great exertions I had made
to clear away all my wearisome correspondence,
and arrange my affairs, so as to give myself a
month's holiday with a free conscience, or from
the intense heat of weather which has long
greatly oppressed me, I know not ; but my fever,
which had not been quite subdued, returned
upon me the very day I last wrote to you, and
in a very few hours rose to such a height, that
my strength was completely prostrated. I am
now pronounced, and indeed feel myself, quite
unfit for the possible risk of the passage, and
subsequent travelling by coach ; and am going
this very day, or rather in the cool of the even-
ing, a few miles into the county of Wicklow,
for immediate change of air. If my health im-
prove in a day or two, I shall travel on very
quietly to get more amongst the mountains, the
fresh, wild, native air of which is to me always
thought more like Wales than any other part of Wick-
low : something about the green solitude seemed
native to me."
p 5
322 MEMORIALS OF
an elixir vitce ; but I am going under much de-
pression of feeling, both from my keen sense of
disappointment, and because I hate wandering
about by myself. I will not, however, sadden you
by dwelling upon these things. . . Will you
give my very kind regards to ? he must
have known how the 'cares of this world,'
though without their accompaniment of the * de-
ceitfulness of riches, 1 have long entangled me,
and will, I am sure, forgive a silence which has
thus been caused, and which I have long in-
tended to break."
A few letters immediately following the above
are before me, but it is out of my power to pub-
lish any extracts from them, from their constant
reference to the party to whom they are ad-
dressed : and I hardly regret that I am so pre-
vented, for the melancholy of the series deepens
as it draws near its close. They speak of
failing health, accompanied by such depression as
MRS. HEMANS. 323
makes " the grasshopper a burden," and of a mo-
ther's affectionate anxiety concerning those whom
she was so soon to leave. But it is remarkable
and soothing to observe the calmness and gentle
resignation which gathered round their writer
as she approached the close of her life. At an
earlier period of her career, it would seem as if,
in the times of despondency which alternated
with her gayer hours, she had contemplated
death as a deliverer — the grave a resting-place
earnestly to be desired. She frequently referred
to that touching epitaph* " Implora pace" men-
tioned in one of Lord Byron's letters, as the
words she would wish to be inscribed on her
own monument.* In the poems, written in her
most chevalresque mood, some indication of this
* This line of Pindemonte's was transcribed by her,
at a later period, in a book of manuscript extracts, be-
longing to a friend : —
" Fermossi al fin il cor che balzo tanto."
Above was written, " Felicia Hemans' epitaph."
324 MEMORIALS OF
sentiment may always be traced. Thus in the
" Siege of Valencia," —
" Why should not He, whose touch dissolves our chain,
Put on his robes of beauty, when he comes
As a deliverer ? He hath many forms,
They should not all be fearful ! If his call
Be but our gathering to that distant land
For whose sweet waters we have pined with thirst,
Why should not its prophetic sense be borne
Into the heart's deep stillness, with a breath
Of summer-winds — a voice of melody
Solemn yet lovely ? . . ,
— Joy ! for the peasant, when his vintage-task
Is closed at eve ! But most of all, for her,
Who, when her life had changed his glittering robes
For the dull garb of sorrow, which doth cling
So heavily around the journeyers on,
Cast down its weight and slept." . . .
If such was Mrs. Hemans* feeling with re-
spect to death, while in the spring-time of her
genius, (for though the words are Ximena's
the thoughts were her own,) — it may be believed
MRS. HEMANS. 325
that it had deepened before she reached that
period, when, to use her own words, " deep
affections and deep sorrows seemed to have
solemnized her whole being." But though she
then, as formerly, took pleasure in contemplating
the resting-place, the shelter, the change from
a harsh world to the home where
" no sorrow dims the air,"
she suffered from none of the morbid impatience
of life which, through their works, is to be traced
in the minds of those who have had so many
fewer reasons, mental and bodily, to pray for re-
lease. To speak fancifully, she seemed to find in
every object around her, a type of the bright and
better land to come, which enhanced and gave a
significance to its beauty. This state of feeling
is remarkably expressed in a poem already men-
tioned — her " Poet's Dying Hymn," which as
faithfully reflects the more tranquil current of
her later thoughts, as the " Mozart's Requiem "
breathed the feverish and uncurbed aspirings of
MEMORIALS OF
former years. After many high-toned verses,
there is a great charm in the gentle yet melan-
choly resignation of those that follow.
" Now thou art calling me in every gale,
Each sound and token of the dying day :
Thou leav'st me not, though early life grows pale,
I am not darkly sinking to decay-
But, hour by hour, my soul's dissolving shroud
Melts off to radiance, as a silvery cloud. —
I bless thee, O my God !
And if this earth, with all its choral streams,
And crowning woods, and soft or solemn skies,
And mountain sanctuaries for poet's dreams,
Be lovely still in my departing eyes :
Tis not that fondly I would linger here,
But that thy foot-prints in its dust appear—
I bless thee, O my God !
And that the tender shadowing I behold,
The tracery veining every leaf and flower,
()f glories cast in more consummate mould,
No longer vassals to the changeful hour ;
MRS. HEMANS. 327
That life's last roses to my thoughts can bring
Rich visions of imperishable spring;
I bless thee, O my God !
Yes ! the young vernal voices in the skies
Woo me not back, but, wandering past mine ear.
Seem heralds of th' eternal melodies,
The spirit-music, imperturb'd and clear;
The full of soul, yet passionate no more —
Let me, too, joining those pure strains, adore!
I bless thee, O my God !
Now aid, sustain me still ! To thee, I come,
Make thou my dwelling where thy children are,
And for the hope of that immortal home,
And for thy Son, the bright and morning star :
The sufferer and the victor-King of death—
I bless thee with my glad song's dying breath !
I bless thee, O my God ! "
The illness to which Mrs. Hemans refers in
the last extracts, was the scarlet fever. Her re-
328 MEMORIALS OF
covery was imperfect, and her extraordinary per-
sonal carelessness, in addition to retarding it,
superinduced another disorder, the ague, which
never left her, till it was succeeded and outgrown
by her last fatal malady. In the interval of
partial convalescence, however, which succeeded
the fever, her mind seemed to awake to more
than its usual vigour : she was never so full of
projects as at this period — never so happy in
the exercise of those powers, over which she
had gained full mastery. Her interest in the
things of life, in books, and works of art, had
never been more vivid, as the following extracts
from her familiar correspondence, — almost the
last which can be given, — abundantly testify.
"Sept. 12th, 1834.
" You will now, perhaps, wish for
some little account of my employments and
studies. As I laid aside my writing entirely
(for an interval of repose) about the time of
your departure, I can only tell you of several
MRS. HEMANS. 329
books which I have read with strong and varied
interest. Amongst the chief of these has been
the Correspondence of Bishop Jebb with Mr.
Knox, which presents, I think, the most beau-
tiful picture ever developed of a noble Christian
friendship, brightening on and on into 'the
perfect day/ through an uninterrupted period
of thirty years. Knox's part of the correspon-
dence is extremely rich in original thought, and
the highest views of enlightened Christian
philosophy ; there is much elegance, < pure
religion,' and refined intellectual taste in the
Bishop's letters also, but his mind is decidedly
inferior both in fervour and power. Another
work with which I have been both impressed
and delighted, is one which I strongly recom-
mend you to procure. It is the ' Prigioni,' of
Silvio Pellico, a distinguished young Italian
poet, who incurred the suspicions of the Aus-
trian government, and was condemned to the
penalty of the carcere duro during ten years,
of which this most interesting work contains
330 MEMORIALS OF
the narrative. It is deeply affecting from the
heart-springing eloquence with which he nar-
rates his varied sufferings : what forms, however,
the great charm of the work, is the gradual and
almost unconsciously-revealed exaltation of the
sufferer's character, spiritualized through suffer-
ing into the purest Christian excellence. It is
beautiful to see the lessons of trust in God and
love to mankind brought out more and more
into shining light from the depth of the dun-
geon-gloom, and all this crowned at last by the
release of the noble, all-forgiving captive, and
his restoration to his aged father and mother,
whose venerable faces seem perpetually to have
haunted the solitude of his cell. The book is
written in the most classic Italian, in one small
volume, and will, I am sure, be one to afford
you lasting delight."
MRS. HEMANS. 331
From a letter to her sister.
" Sept. 18th, 1834.
, . . . " I thought you would be interested
in the two sonnets* which are copied on the
first page. I wrote them only a few days ago,
(almost the first awakening of my spirit, indeed,
after a long sickness,) upon reading that delight-
ful book of Pellico's, which I procured in con-
sequence of what you had told me of it. I
know not when I have read anything which
has so deeply impressed me. The gradual
brightening of heart and soul into the ' perfect
day' of Christian excellence, through all those
fiery trials, presents, I think, one of the most
touching, as well as instructing pictures ever
contemplated. How beautiful is the scene
between him and Oroboni, in which they mutu-
ally engage not to shrink from the avowal of
* The Sonnets to •• Silvio Pellico upon reading his
' Prigioni,' " and " To the same released/' published
among the " Poetical Remains."
33*2 MEMORIALS OF
their faith, should they ever return into the
world ! But I could say so much on this subject,
which has quite taken hold of my thoughts,
that it would lead me to fill up my whole
letter A friend kindly brought me
yesterday the Saturday Magazine, containing
Coleridge's letter to his god-child. It is, indeed,
most beautiful, and coming from that sovereign
intellect ought to be received as an invaluable
record of faith and humility. It is scarcely
possible to read it without tears !"....
" Sept. 19th, 1834.
" My dear ■ ,
" I should have written immediately to you
on Carl's return, but that he told me something
of a packet of books which you were about to
forward in a day or two, and the arrival of
which he was to acknowledge, and I thought it
would be best to send you a long united letter
from us both. I can, however, no longer delay
MRS. HEMANS. 333
expressing to you my delightful surprise upon
opening your precious gift of remembrance,
for which, I beg you to accept, though too late
offered, my warmest thanks. This last noble
production of Retszch's # was quite new to me,
and you may imagine with how many bright
associations of friendship and poesy, every leaf
of it is teeming for me. Again and again have
I recurred to its beauty-embodied thoughts, and
ever with the freshness of a new delight. The
volume, too, is so rich in materials for sweet
and bitter fancies, that to an imaginative nature
it would be invaluable, were it for this alone.
But how imbued is it throughout with grace, the
delicate, spiritual grace breathed from the do-
mestic affections in the full play of their tender-
ness ! I look upon it truly as a religions work,
for it contains scarcely a design in which the
eternal alliance between the human soul and
its Creator is not shadowed forth by devotional
expression. How admirably does this manifest
* His outlines to Schiller's " Song of the Bell."
334 MEMORIALS OF
itself in the group of the christening, the — first
scene of the betrothed lovers, with their up-
lifted eyes of speechless happiness ; and, above
all, in that exquisite group, representing the
father counting over his beloved heads after the
conflagration ! I was much impressed, too, by
that most poetic vision at the close, where the
mighty bell, no more to proclaim the tidings of
human weal or woe, is lying amidst ruins, and
half mantled over by a veil of weeds and wild
flowers. What a profusion of external beauty,
but above all, what a deep ' inwardness of mean-
ing ' there is in all these speaking things !
Indeed, my dear friend, you have bestowed
upon me a treasure to thought, to imagination,
to all kindly feeling, and be assured of its being
valued at its fullest worth Have you
read Silvio Pellico's narrative of his < Prigioni V
it has lately interested me most deeply : how
beautiful a picture is presented by the gradual
expansion of the sufferer's mind under all its
fiery trials to more and more all-enduring cha-
MRS. HEMANS. 335
rity, tenderness, and toleration ! I have read it
more than once, so powerful has been its effect
upon my feelings. When the weary struggle with
wrong and injustice leads to such results, I
then feel that the fearful mystery of life is
solved for me.
" May I trouble you with a little commission ?
I am anxious to procure those two very small
American volumes of my poems, which contain
almost all I have written as far as the ' Forest
Sanctuary.' If you could obtain them for me
I shall be particularly obliged You
will not be quite satisfied with this letter unless
I tell you something of my health. The scarlet
fever has left me with a very great susceptibility
to cold ; but if I can overcome this by care, I
really think (and my physicians think also) that
my constitution seems now to give promise of
improvement If God ever grants me
something of domestic peace and protection, it
will be received as a blessing for which all my
future life would be one hymn of thankfulness
336 MEMORIALS OF
and joy. This subject saddens me, therefore
it is well that I have no room left to dwell
upon it.
" Ever believe me,
" Most faithfully yours,
" F. H."
MRS. HEMANS. 337
CHAPTER VIII.
Increase of illness— Mrs. Hemans' calmness and resig-
nation — " Thoughts during Sickness " — " Despon-
dency and Aspiration" — Projected poem— "Antique
Greek Lament" — Removal to Redesdale — Last ex-
tract from her correspondence — Appointment of her
son — Her cheerfulness— Messages to her friends —
Her love of books— Further notices of her last hours
— Conclusion.
The hope expressed in the last letter proved,
alas ! delusive : the partial return of strength,
from which Mrs. Hemans augured the possibility,
if not the promise, of a favourable change in her
constitution, was but the last fitful quivering of
the flame of life, before it expired. A neglected
cold, caught (as has been already mentioned)
VOL. II. Q
338 MEMORIALS OF
when she was but imperfectly recovered from
the scarlet fever, took the distressing form of
ague : and from that time forward her strength
and health declined steadily. The increasing
weakness of her frame made it impossible for
her to throw off this disorder, which was suc-
ceeded by a dropsical affection.
It would be fruitlessly distressing to dwell
upon the scenes of pain, and prostration, and
decay, which closed her career, had the mind of
the sufferer yielded with the body, and sunk
into the arms of death with as much agony and
as wearily as its mortal tabernacle. Not only,
however, were its powers of conception and
fancy undiminished, but it seemed to gain pa-
tience and tranquillity in proportion as disease
advanced; — to cling with a more entire and
confiding reliance to the faith which had calmed
its tumults, and taught it to anchor its hopes
upon the One " with whom there is no variable-
ness, neither shadow of turning." Her thoughts
and imaginations, during the first stage of her
MRS. HEMANS. 339
illness, were recorded by Mrs. Hemans in a
series of sonnets, entitled " Thoughts during
Sickness," which were intended as a sequel to
a previous collection, the " Records of the
Autumn." The " Thoughts," — unaccountably
omitted in the " Poetical Remains " — were
published in the New Monthly Magazine for
March, 1835. They are intensely individual.
One of them, on Retzseh's design of the " Angel
of Death," was suggested by an impressive
description in Mrs. Jameson's " Visits and
Sketches." In another, she speculates earnestly
and reverently upon the direction of the flight
of the Spirit, when the soul and body shall
part; in others, again, she recurs tenderly to
the haunts and pleasures of childhood, which
had, of late, been present to her memory with
more than usual force and freshness. To these
the following sonnet refers, dated May, 1834;
which, as far as I am aware, has not hitherto
been published.
Q 2
340 MEMORIALS OF
« A HAPPY HOUR.
" Oh ! what a joy, to feel that in my breast
The founts of childhood's vernal fancies lay
Still pure, tho' heavily and long repressed
By early-blighted leaves, which o'er their way
Dark summer-storms had heaped — but free, glad
play
Once more was given them : — to the sunshine's
glow,
And the sweet wood-song's penetrating flow,
And to the wandering primrose-breath of May,
And the rich hawthorn odours, forth they
sprung,—
Oh ! not less freshly bright, that now a thought
Of spiritual presence o'er them hung,
And of immortal life ! — a germ, unwrought
In childhood's soul to power — now strong, serene,
And full of love and light, colouring the whole
blest scene."
" Her intense love of nature," writes her
sister, " seemed to gain strength even as the
MRS. HEMANS. 341
sorrowful conviction was more and more pressed
upon us, that upon the fair scenes of this world,
her eyes were never more to dwell. One of the
sonnets in question (the "Thoughts") will far
better express her feelings than any language of
mine."
" O Nature ! thou didst rear me for thine own,
With thy free singing-birds and mountain-brooks,
Feeding my thoughts in primrose-haunted nooks
With fairy phantasies, and wood-dreams lone.
And thou didst teach me every wandering tone
Drawn from the many whispering trees and waves,
And guide my step to founts and starry caves,
And where bright mosses wove thee a rich throne
'Midst the green hills ; — and now that, far estranged
From all sweet sounds and odours of thy breath,
Fading I lie, within my heart unchanged
So glows the love of thee, that not for death
Seems that pure passion's fervour — but ordained
To meet on brighter shores, thy majesty unstained."
It was after the first violence of her illness
had somewhat abated, that Mrs. Hemans com-
842 MEMORIALS OF
menced her noble lyric, " Despondency and
Aspiration." # She was more than usually
anxious to concentrate all her powers in this
poem. When a second attack, which again
greatly reduced her strength, for a while sub-
sided, leaving her free from pain, she address-
ed herself to completing it without delay;
and, when it was finished, expressed, for the
first time, something like a presentiment of her
approaching departure. " I felt anxious," she
said, "to finish it, for whilst I was so ill, I
thought it might be my last work, and I
wished, if I could, to make it my best."
Her wish was granted in its fullest extent:
this ode, which concludes and crowns so long
a line of beautiful and eloquent poems, rises
higher in its aim, its imagery, and its versifica-
tion, than any of its predecessors. She de-
signed (for the plans and projects of life did not
loosen their hold upon her busy mind, till the
Shadow, as it were, stood on the threshold) to
* Published among the " Poetical Remains."
MRS. HEMANS. 343
make it the prologue to a poetical work
which was to be called " The Christian Tem-
ple." The idea of such an undertaking had
been suggested to her by a recent perusal of
Schiller's "Die Gotten Griechenlands," and
it was her purpose, by tracing out the work-
ings of passion— the struggles of human affec-
tion — through various climes, and ages, and
conditions of life — to illustrate the insufficiency
of any dispensation, save that of an all-embrac-
ing Christianity, to soothe the sorrows, or sus-
tain the hopes, or fulfil the desires of an im-
mortal being whose lot is cast in a world where
cares and bereavements are many.
The " Antique Greek Lament " * with its
plaintive burden,
" By the blue waters— the restless ocean waters.
Restless as they with their many-flashing surges,
Lonely I wander, weeping for my lost one !"
was the only poem of the series which was com-
* Published among the " Poetical Remains."
344 MEMORIALS OF
pie ted : for the project, with many others, was
arrested by the progress of disease, which, be-
fore the winter closed in, had assumed an alarm-
ing and unequivocal aspect. It was hoped, how-
ever, that change of air, and complete retirement,
might still restore her. With this view Mrs.
Hemans removed early in December to the
summer residence of the Archbishop of Dublin,
which was kindly placed at her disposal ; and, it
would seem, derived a transient benefit from the
change. But the following letter was traced
with a faltering hand, and speaks, unconsciously,
the language of melancholy presentiment.
" Redesdale, near Dublin, January 27th, 1835.
" My dear ,
" I think you will be glad to see a few lines
from myself, though I can only tell you that my
recovery — if such it can be called — proceeds
with disheartening slowness. I cannot possibly
describe to you the subduing effect that long ill-
ness has produced upon my mind. I seem to have
MRS. HEMANS. 345
been passing through ■ the valley of the shadow
of death,' and all the vivid interests of life look
dim and pale around me. I am still at the
Archbishop's palace, where I receive kindness
truly heart-warm. Never could anything be
more cordial than the strong interest he and his
amiable wife have taken in my recovery.
" My dear has enjoyed his holidays here
greatly, as I should have done too, (he has been
so mild and affectionate,) but for constant pain
and sickness.
" This has fatigued me sadly.
" Believe me every truly yours,
« F. H."
" Do send my kind love to Miss — — , when
you have an opportunity."
It was in the course of the following month,
that the necessary exertion and excitement
Q 5
346 MEMORIALS OF
caused to Mrs. Hemans by the appointment of
her fourth son to a situation in a government
office, was succeeded by an exaggeration of every
unfavourable symptom — a greater feebleness
of frame, and an increase of dropsical affection.
But she bore these not only placidly, but almost
cheerfully : so deeply was she impressed by a
sense of the public kindness which relieved her
mind from a heavy care, and by the private act of
generosity by which the nomination in question
was accompanied. This — honourable to thegiver 5
for its munificence, and for the delicacy with
which it was tendered: honourable to the receiver,
for the gratitude with which it was acknowledged
— a gratitude unalloyed by false shame or ser-
vility — is a thing not to be passed over. It
does the heart good to dwell upon such a proof
that the cares of statesmanship do not of neces-
sity destroy the gentler feelings of brotherly kind-
ness and benevolence. In every note and letter
which refers to this affair, Mrs. Hemans is de-
scribed as speaking of it as " a sunshine with-
MRS. HEMANS.
347
out a cloud ;" — she now felt that her days were
numbered, and it must indeed have been sooth-
ing to her, to receive so effectual an assurance
that she possessed friends — unknown as well as
known — willing and active to advance the for-
tunes of those whom she was so soon to leave
for ever !
The desired improvement in her health not
having taken place, it was thought prudent
to remove her to Dublin early in March, in
order that she might be nearer to her physicians.
By this time, she had almost entirely lost the
use of her limbs, and though not wholly confined
to bed, was scarcely equal even to the exertion
of reading. She was therefore entirely thrown
upon the resources of her own mind ; " but
never," says her companion during these days,
" did I perceive it overshadowed by gloom.
The manner in which she endured pain — and
this, during the earlier stages of her illness,
was very severe — surprised even me. She never
murmured or expressed the slightest impatience
348 MEMORIALS OF
at its long continuance. I remember her say-
ing to me once, in a moment of unusual anguish,
' that she hoped / should never be subject to
what she was then enduring,' but this was the
utmost of her complaints." During these
severest periods of her disorder, she was some-
times delirious — and it was remarkable to ob-
serve, from the incoherent words she uttered, how
entirely the Beautiful still retained its predomi-
nance over her mind. As an illustrative anec-
dote, I may mention that one of her last casual
visitors introduced into her sick chamber at her
own express request, was Giulio Regondi, the
boy-guitarist — in whom she had been more than
usually interested — not merely by the extraordi-
nary musical genius and acquirement, which place
him so far above the common range of youthful
prodigies — but by that simplicity and cheerful-
ness of nature, which rarely remain unspoiled in
those, like him, perilously exposed to the flat-
tery and caresses of the world, at an early age.
Throughout the whole of Mrs. Hemans' ill-
MRS. HEMANS. 349
ness, she was visited by vivid and delightful
dreams, to which, and to the quietness of her
slumber, she often thankfully referred: and
in answer to the sympathy expressed by the
few admitted to her presence, who were dis-
tressed to see the melancholy state in which
she was lying, she would say, that she had no
need of pity, that she lived in a fair and happy
world of her own, among gentle thoughts and
pleasant images, which were sufficient to her
cheerfulness. When haunted by the prompt-
ings of too quick a conscience, which suggested
to her, that her life and talents had not been
rendered useful to their fullest extent, she would
console herself with that beautiful line of
Milton's,
" Those also serve, who only stand and wait."
She spoke often of the far-away friends whom
she valued, and would send them messages of
kindness and comfort ; she was anxious that one
350 MEMORIALS OF
(Miss Mitford) should be told of the delight
which her country scenes and sketches had given
her ; — that another, the companion of her graver
hours, should be assured that " the tenderness
and affectionateness of the Redeemer's cha-
racter which they had often contemplated toge-
ther, was now a source not merely of reliance,
but of positive happiness to her — the sweetness
of her couch."" In short, during this season of
decline, she was resigned, humble, most
studious to avoid saying or doing any thing
which might seem said or done for effect, and
invested by her patience and sweetness with a
dignity which almost raised her above the reach
of earthly consolation. The feeling can be well
understood which made her sister write, " that
at times it has almost been painful to feel one's
own incapacity to minister to a spirit so ethe-
rialised."
Towards the close of March, her malady
took one of those capricious turns upon which
the sanguine are so apt to found hopes; and which
MRS. HEMANS. 351
tempt the sufferer, from feeling a momentary re-
lief, to imagine that a restoration to health is not
utterly beyond possibility. At this time, her
sister, who had been in attendance upon her for
some weeks, left her, recalled to Wales by im-
perative domestic claims: — her youngest bro-
ther and her sister-in-law remained with her till
she died. But the change was of short dura-
tion ; the letters and notes before me only detail
the return and progress of disease, and soon
cease to speak of a hope, — a chance* Her re-
lations had now only to stand by and await the
release of a spirit, ready, if not impatient, to
depart: — of one whose life had been troubled
and storm-beaten, but whose death-bed was calm
and most affectionately tended.
It now remains for me to add a few more notices
* I have purposely refrained from dwelling upon the
minute particulars of Mrs. Hemans' case ; these have
been sufficiently given in the " Recollections/' by
Mr. Lawrence, to which reference has already been
made.
352 MEMORIALS OF
of thejast solemn hours of life ; for these I am in-
debted to her youngest son. " After all the more
painful part of her illness had subsided, she sank
into a calm and gradual state of decline : I may
safely say, that I never in my life, saw her so
happy and serene as then. Her love of books
became stronger than ever." It has been already
told, in her own words, that her love of flowers
remained equally strong till death. " She
would have a little table placed by her bed-side,
covered with volumes, one of which would lie open
before her, even when she was unable to read —
and she liked to be read to — for though frequently
she could not comprehend what she heard, the
sound of words seemed to lull her to placid
slumber. The latest volume of Wordsworth's
poems, which was brought to her about this time,
excited in her the strongest interest ; and she
returned, after an absence and forgetfulness of
many years, to the old pleasure, which, when very
young, she had taken in the writings of Bowles ;
the quiet beauty of whose poetry seemed very
MRS. HEMANS. 353
congenial to her present state of mind. Almost
the last book which she turned over with any
appearance of interest, was Gilpin's " Forest
Scenery."
Within a short period of her decease, the
dropsical symptoms abated ; they were suc-
ceeded by hectic fever and delirium, the sure
precursors of dissolution. On the twenty-sixth
day of April she closed her poetical career, by
dictating the " Sabbath Sonnet," which will be
read and remembered as long as her name is loved
and cherished. From this time she sank away
gently but steadily, — still able to derive pleasure
from being occasionally read to, and on Tuesday,
the twelfth of May, still able to read for herself
a portion of the sixteenth chapter of St. John,
her favourite among the Evangelists. Nearly the
last words she was heard to utter were, on Satur-
day the sixteenth of May, to ask her youngest
son, then sitting by her bed-side, what he was
reading. When he told her the name of the
book, she said, " Well, do you like it ?" After
354 MEMORIALS OF
this she fell into a gentle sleep, which con-
tinued almost unbroken, till evening, when,
between the hours of eight and nine, her spirit
passed away without a sigh or a struggle.
She was buried in a grave within St. Anne's
Church, Dawson Street, close to the house in
which she died ; the funeral service being per-
formed over her remains by the Rev. Dr.
Dickinson, the Archbishop's Chaplain, from
whom she had received the sacrament on the
evening of the seventeenth of March. There
is, as yet, no monument erected to her, save a
tablet in the cathedral of St. Asaph, placed
there by her brothers, " in memory of Felicia
Hemans, whose character is best pourtrayed in
her writings."
An elaborate summary of the principal fea-
tures of Mrs. Hemans' character, or of the
general and individual merits of her poems, can
hardly be necessary, if the foregoing memorials
MRS. HEMANS. 355
have fulfilled the design of their editor. The
woman and the poetess were in her too in-
separably united to admit of their being con-
sidered apart from each other. In her private
letters, as in her published works, she shows
herself high-minded, affectionate, grateful — way-
ward in her self-neglect, — delicate to fasti-
diousness in her tastes ; — in her religion, fer-
vent without intolerance; — eager to acquire
knowledge, as eager to impart it to others, —
earnestly devoted to her art, and in that art to
the service of all things beautiful, and noble,
and holy. She may have fallen short of some
of her predecessors in vigour of mind, of some
of her contemporaries in variety of fancy ; but
she surpassed them all in the use of language, in
the employment of a rich, chaste, and glowing
imagery, and in the perfect music of her versi-
fication. It will be long before the chasm left
in our female literature by her death will be
worthily filled : she will be long remembered, —
356 MEMORIALS OF MRS. HEMANS.
long spoken of by those who know her works,
yet longer by those who knew herself —
Kindly and gently, but as of one,
For whom 'tis well to be fled and gone,
As of a bird from a chain unbound,
As of a wanderer whose home is found.
So let it be !
APPENDIX
Since these Memorials have been completed,
I have received notices of two poems, written
by Mrs. Hemans during her residence in Wales,
of which no mention is made in any of her let-
ters, nor any published trace to be found.
The one was entitled " The Secret Tribunal,"
the other, the work of a later and better period,
was a dramatic poem, called " The Crusaders,"
in which the popular ballad of " The Captive
Knight" was introduced. The manuscript of
this last was unaccountably lost, or destroyed.
358 APPENDIX.
Should it ever be recovered, it might serve as
the nucleus of a second volume of " Poetical
Remains."
THE END.
LONDON:
IBOTSON AM) PALMER, PRINTERS, SAVOY STREET, STRAND.
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