Excellent Women Part 19

IX.

HOME IN THE LAKE COUNTRY.

A visit to the Lakes of Westmoreland in 1830 was a source of great enjoyment to Mrs. Hemans. The beauty of the district was one attraction, but the prospect of sharing the society of Mr. Wordsworth was a greater attraction. Wearied out with the "glare and dust of celebrity," she was longing for the hills and the quiet peacefulness of the Lake country. It is needless to say that the first poetess of Nature was charmed with the first poet of Nature, and the poet with the poetess. Her letters were full of expressions of delight and keen appreciation of the privilege she was enjoying. Wordsworth was kindness itself. "I am charmed with Mr.

Wordsworth, whose kindness to me has quite a soothing influence 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."

Mrs. Hemans, after staying a fortnight at Rydal Mount, took a little cottage called Dove's Nest near the lake. Here she was joined by her children, into whose pursuits she heartily threw herself. This was a season of grateful rest to her. "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 peace and simple enjoyment; but now I know--"

'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 to you." But even to this sweet retirement she was pursued by curious tourists, "hunting for lions in doves' nests," and by letters which threatened "to boil over the drawer to which they were consigned."

She had made up her mind that it was a wise step to leave Wavertree. At one time Edinburgh was thought of as a fit place for her residence. But finally Ireland, and not Scotland, became the home of her latter days, one reason for this choice being that her brother would be near to give his advice and guidance as to her sons. In 1831 she took up her abode in Dublin, where, whilst entering very little into general society, she much enjoyed intercourse with many kindred spirits whom she gathered around her. Amongst her most valued friends were the Archbishop of Dublin and Mrs. Whately, from whom she met with marked kindness. These years in Dublin have been described as the happiest as well as the last of her life. Heading was perhaps more than ever a delight to her, especially of works of religious instruction and consolation. Bishop Hall, Leighton, and Jeremy Taylor, and other old divines afforded her great strength and refreshment, whilst the Scriptures were her daily study and delight. Wordsworth was the poet she loved best and read oftenest, never a single day during the last four years of her life being pa.s.sed, unless sickness prevented, without her reading something of his.

X.

ASPIRATIONS DURING FAILING HEALIH.

"Nervous suffering" is a phrase that describes Mrs. Hemans' state of health. But still her mind was busy and her pen active, especially on subjects of a religious character. "I now feel as if bound to higher and holier tasks which, though I may occasionally lay aside, I could not long wander from without some sense of dereliction. I hope it is not 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."

In 1834 _Hymns for Childhood_ and _National Lyrics_ appeared in a collected form, and soon after the long-contemplated collection of _Scenes and Hymns of Life_. The aim of these may be best expressed in her own words. It was to enlarge the sphere of sacred poetry "by a.s.sociating with its themes, more of the emotions, the affections, and even the pure imaginative enjoyments of daily life, than had hitherto been admitted within the hallowed circle."

Two last works were to issue from her mind and heart. The lyric "Despondency and Aspiration" was hoped to be her best production, as it was certainly her most laborious effort. On it she was anxious to concentrate all her powers. It was meant to be the prologue to a poetical work which was to be called _The Christian Temple_. It was her purpose, "by tracing out the workings of pa.s.sion--the struggle of human affection--through various climes, and ages, and conditions of life, to ill.u.s.trate the insufficiency of any dispensation, save that of an ill-embracing Christianity, to soothe the sorrows, or sustain the hopes, or fulfil the desires of an immortal being whose lot is cast in a world where cares and bereavements are many." She was never to carry out this design.

She dictated _Thoughts during Sickness_ in the intervals of sickness, when concentrated thought was possible. Their shortness tells of the shortness of those intervals. Who is not better for thinking over these sonnets, recalling as they do a peaceful spirit of resignation and calmness at the approach of the last hour?

"Let others _trembling_ bow, Angel of Death, before thee;--not to those Whose spirits with Eternal Truth repose Art thou a fearful shape. And, oh, for _me_, How full of welcome would thine aspect s.h.i.+ne, Did not the cords of strong affection twine So fast around my soul, it _cannot_ spring to thee."

The last of the series is ent.i.tled a "Sabbath Sonnet." It was composed by Mrs. Hemans a few days before her death, and dictated to her brother.

It ends in these words---fit words for the last utterances of a Christian poet:

"I may not tread With them those pathways--to the feverish bed Of sickness bound; yet, O my G.o.d, I bless Thy mercy, that with Sabbath peace hath filled My chastened heart, and all its throbbings stilled To one deep calm of lowliest thankfulness."

But we are antic.i.p.ating. At the end of 1834 Mrs. Hemans was recommended to try change of air. Most kindly Archbishop Whately placed at her disposal his country seat of Redesdale, where she had every comfort. But there was a comfort she had that was not of man's making or man's giving. "Far better than these indications of recovery is the sweet religious peace which I feel gradually overshadowing me with its dove-pinions, excluding all that would exclude thoughts of G.o.d."

All around her delighted to ease her suffering and to minister to her comfort. Especially thoughtful was her faithful attendant. And well was that attendant repaid in hearing the words which fell from her mistress's lips. How bright was the testimony of the dying poetess! "I feel like a tired child wearied, and longing to mingle with the pure in heart! I feel as if I were sitting with Mary at the feet of my Redeemer, hearing the music of His voice, and learning of Him to be meek and lowly." "Oh, Anna, do not you love your kind Saviour? The plan of redemption was indeed a glorious one; humility was indeed the crowning work. I am like a quiet babe at His feet, and yet my spirit is full of His strength. When anybody speaks of His love to me, I feel as if they were too slow; my spirit can mount alone with Him into those blissful realms with far more rapidity."

XI.

"THE BETTER LAND" REACHED.

Mrs. Hemans left Redesdale to return to Dublin, so as to be near her physician. She could only leave her bed to be laid upon a couch. The sufferings were great, but there was no complaint. She would never allow those around her to speak of her state as one calling for pity. She seemed to live partly on earth, partly in heaven. "No poetry could express, nor imagination conceive, the visions of blessedness that flitted across her fancy, and made her waking hours more delightful than those even that were given to temporary repose." She would ask to be left perfectly alone, in stillness and darkness, to commune with her own heart and reflect on the mercies of her Saviour. Her trust in the atonement was entire, and often did she speak of the comfort she derived from dwelling upon that central fact. She a.s.sured a friend that the tenderness and affectionateness of the Redeemer's character, which they had often contemplated together, was now a source not merely of reliance, but of positive happiness to her--"_the sweetness of her couch_."

As is often the case under such circ.u.mstances, her thoughts were busy with the haunts of her childhood, the old home and the old walks. Her memory appeared unweakened. Its powers, always so great, seemed to be greater than ever. She would lie hour after hour, repeating to herself chapters of the Bible and pages of Milton and Wordsworth. When delirium came upon her, it was observed how entirely the beautiful still retained its predominance over her mind. The one material thing that gave her pleasure was to be surrounded with "flowers, fresh flowers."

Often did she thank G.o.d for the talents He had entrusted to her, and declared how much more ardently than ever her powers would have been consecrated to His service had life been prolonged. On March 15th she received the Holy Communion for the last time, one of her sons being a partaker of that feast for the first time. But the end was not to come at once. There was another flicker of life. The days that remained were spent in pious preparation, one of her favourite occupations being the listening to the reading of some of her most valued books. The _Lives of Sacred Poets_ and the _Lives of Eminent Christians_, in both of which her life was soon to be worthy of a place, were especially enjoyed. In the latter book she earnestly recommended the perusal of the account of the death of Madame de Mornay, as showing in bright yet not exaggerated colours "how a Christian can die."

On the 26th of April she dictated to her brother the last strain, the "Sabbath Sonnet," to which reference has already been made. From this time she began to sink slowly but steadily. On the 12th of May she was able to read part of the 16th chapter of St. John, her favourite among the evangelists, which was the Gospel for the day, and also the Collect and Epistle. She delighted to hear pa.s.sages from a book she dearly loved--a selection from the works of Archbishop Leighton. "Beautiful!

beautiful!" she exclaimed. To her faithful attendant she said that "she had been making her peace with G.o.d; that she felt all at peace within her bosom."

On Sat.u.r.day the 16th May, 1835, she slumbered nearly all the day: and at nine o'clock in the evening, without pain or struggle, her spirit pa.s.sed away to the "Better Land."

'I hear thee speak of the better land, Thou callest its children a happy band; Mother, oh, where is that radiant sh.o.r.e?

Shall we not seek it, and weep no more?

Is it where the flower of the orange blows, And the fire-flies glance through the myrtle boughs?'

'Not there, not there, my child!'

'Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, And the date grows ripe under sunny skies?

Or 'midst the green islands of glittering seas, Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, And strange, bright birds, on their starry wings, Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?'

'Not there, not there, my child!'

'Is it far away, in some region old, Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold?

Where the burning rays of the ruby s.h.i.+ne, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand?

Is it there, sweet mother, that better land?'

'Not there, not there, my child!'

'Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy, Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy; Dreams cannot picture a world so fair-- Sorrow and death may not enter there: Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom, For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb,-- It is there, it is there, my child!'

Her remains were laid to rest in a grave within St. Anne's Church, Dublin. A tablet records her name, her age--forty-one years--and the date of her death. There are added the following lines of her own:--

"Calm on the bosom of thy G.o.d, Fair spirit, rest thee now; E'en while with us thy footsteps trode, His seal was on thy brow.

Dust to its narrow home beneath, Soul to its place on high; They that have seen thy look in death, No more may fear to die."

XII.

ABIDING WORDS.

Though many of the productions of the gifted poetess will soon be forgotten, there is no doubt that some will live. The subjects are those which gain an admittance to the hearts of all cla.s.ses. We have already given in full that beautiful poem "The Better Land." There is no danger of "Casabianca" pa.s.sing into oblivion. Children delight to commit it to memory, and are all the better for the lesson of devotion to duty they have learnt.

"Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm; A creature of heroic blood, A proud, though childlike form.

The flames rolled on--he would not go Without his father's word; That father, faint in death below, His voice no longer heard."

Mrs. Hemans was at her best in treating of such matters as those dealt with in "The Homes of England" and "The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers."

Any one is to be pitied who can read without admiration these lines from the former:--

"The merry homes of England!

Around their hearths by night What gladsome looks of household love Meet in the ruddy light!