CHAPTER V.Literary Women.

“Great as her fame has been, I never considered it equal to her merit. Such a fine and complete combination of talent and goodness, and of zeal and discretion, I never witnessed. All her resources, influences, and opportunities, were simply and invariably made to subserve one purpose, in which she aimed to live, not to herself, but to Him who died for us and rose again.”—

William Jay.

LITERATURE.

Every piece of composition takes up, and must take up, as its basis, some element or assumption of fact,—states, affirms, or denies something; but unless it be animated by imagination, it is not literature. The power of seeing and expressing the æsthetic element in nature and life is that which entitles a composition to be regarded as a literary product. It is this element which inspires, vitalises, and gives immortality to a production, whether it be an address to a mountain daisy, or a history of the world. Science may become obsolete through the progress of discovery, polemics may become irrelevant through the progress of society, but literature is ever new, and never old; it is enduring as the great features of nature which are imaged in it, and the manifold aspects of human life from which it derives its chiefvalue and fascination. The dominion of popular writing is being increased at a most marvellous rate. Literature is now crowned as the very chiefest monarch of these times. On many topics we differ, but editors, authors, critics, and all the disseminators of literature, are unanimous as to the necessity of the diffusion of knowledge. What a mine of intellectual wealth has that admirable art, the art of printing, now laid open to all! A lifetime would not exhaust those treasures of delight supplied by English genius alone. Not only have we men gifted with the highest attributes of mind, writing entertaining, instructive, suggestive, Christian, and progressive books; but women in every department of literature have taken up, not by courtesy, but by right, a full and conspicuous place. Not a few of these authoresses heard “that Divine and nightly-whispering voice, which speaks to mighty minds of predestinated garlands, starry and unwithering,” and have already received their reward.

BIOGRAPHY.

Hannah More has been long conspicuous among the lights of the world. She was the youngest but one of five sisters, and was born on the 2nd of February, 1745, at Stapleton, near Bristol. Jacob More and Mary Grace educated all their daughters with a view to their future occupation as schoolmistresses. They had all strong minds, sagacious intellects, and superior capabilities for the acquisition of knowledge; but Hannah seems to have combined in herself the chief excellencies of all their characters. Her mental precocity was extraordinary. When about threeyears old, her mother found that in listening to the lessons taught her elder sisters, she had learned them for herself. She wrote rhymes at the age of four, and before that period repeated her catechism in the church in a manner which excited the admiration of the clergyman, who had so recently received her at the font. Her nurse had formerly lived in the family of Dryden, and little Hannah took great delight in hearing stories about the great poet. Before she had completed her eighth year, her thirst for knowledge became so conspicuous, that her father, despite his horror at female pedantry, had begun to instruct her in Grecian and Roman history, classics and mathematics. Under the tuition of her elder sister Mary, she commenced the study of French. We are not aware that she ever visited Paris, but some French officers were frequently guests at her father’s table, and these gentlemen always fixed upon Hannah as their interpreter. Hence that free and elegant use of the language for which she was afterwards distinguished.

The superior talents, sound principles, and excellent conduct of the Misses More attracted notice and found patrons; and whilst still in their youth, they found themselves established at the head of a school, which long continued to be more flourishing than any other in the west of England. Miss Hannah sedulously availed herself of the instructions of masters in the Italian and Spanish languages. For her knowledge of the physical sciences, she was largely indebted to the self-taught philosopher, James Ferguson; and it is probable that her admirable elocutionary powers were the result of lessons receivedfrom Mr. Sheridan. In 1764, Sir James Stonehouse, who had been many years a physician in large practice at Northampton, took holy orders, and came to reside at Bristol, in the same street with the Miss Mores. Sir James discerned Miss Hannah’s gifts, fostered her genius, directed her theological studies, and remained through life her firm friend.

In 1767, she accepted the addresses of Edward Turner, Esq., of Belmont, a man of large fortune, good character, and liberal education, but of a gloomy and capricious temper, and almost double her own age. She resigned her partnership in the school, and spared no expense in fitting herself out to be his wife. Three times in the course of six years the wedding-day was fixed, and as often postponed by her affianced husband. Miss Hannah More’s health and spirits failed; she could see no rational prospect of happiness with a man who could so trifle with her feelings, and at last found resolution to terminate the anxious and painful treaty. His mind, however, was ill at ease till he was allowed to settle upon her an annuity of £200, having offered three times that sum. At his death he also bequeathed her £1000. Her hand was again solicited, but refused. Possibly her experience prompted her sisters to spend their days in single blessedness.

One of the most important events in the life of Miss Hannah More, was her first visit to London, in 1773. At that time, neither the habits of people deemed religious, nor the scruples of her own mind, interdicted her from visiting the theatre, and listening to Shakespeare speaking in the person of that consummate actor, David Garrick. The character inwhich she first saw him was Lear, and having written her opinion of that wonderful impersonation to a mutual friend, who showed it to him, the scenic hero called upon her at her lodgings in Henrietta Street, Covent Garden. He was delighted with his new acquaintance, and took a pride and pleasure in introducing her to the splendid circle in which he moved. In six weeks she became intimate with the rank and talent of the time. One of the two sprightly sisters who accompanied her to London, graphically describes her first interview with the great moralist of the eighteenth century. Miss Reynolds telling the doctor of the rapturous exclamations of the sisters on the road, and Johnson shaking his scientific head at Miss Hannah, and calling her “a silly thing!” she seating herself in the lexicographer’s great chair, hoping to catch a little ray of his genius, and he laughing heartily, and assuring her that it was a chair in which he never sat. Miss Hannah More’s quickness of repartee, aptness of quotation, and kindliness of heart, won the favour of the leaders of society. But in the glittering saloons of fashion, when senators and peers paid her homage, she stood quiet and self-possessed. In 1775, while the first rich bloom still rested on the fruits of her London experience, she remarks: “The more I see of the honoured, famed, and great, the more I see of the bitterness, the unsatisfactoriness, of all created good, and that no earthly pleasure can fill up the wants of the immortal principle within.” None could more thoroughly weigh popular acclaim, and more firmly pronounce it the hosannas of a drivelling generation than this young school-mistress.

Her religious views, which had always been decided,acquired, as years rolled on, greater force and consistency. She never went to the theatre after the death of her friend Garrick, in January, 1779—not even to see her own tragedies performed. Step by step she was led to doubt whether the life she was then living, although blameless, was in full harmony with her own ideas of Christian truth. Whilst these questions were agitating her mind, she produced, as a kind of index to her spiritual state, a series of “sacred dramas,” which were even more favourably received than any of her former publications. In 1786, she withdrew from what she called “the world,” into the pleasant villages of Gloucester and Somerset. In the parish of Wrington, she built a cottage, which was called Cowslip Green. Here she laboured diligently, and lived a life of active benevolence. When in her forty-third year, she assumed the matronly style ofMrs. More, a fashion more prevalent then than now. Among her most meritorious services, was the establishment of Sunday and day schools, clothing associations, and female benefit societies, throughout the mining district of the Mendip Hills, where the people were almost in a state of semi-barbarism. It is sad to have to record that these efforts, instead of receiving clerical countenance and aid, were vigorously opposed by them. It is not necessary to enter into the particulars of the commotion raised about 1799, by malevolent persons, against her schools, nor to do more than allude to the unprovoked slanders and ridicule of literary rivals, resolved at all hazards to rob her of her fame. For more than three years, to use her own heart-felt words, she was “battered, hacked, scalped, tomahawked.”

Many things determined Mrs. More to quit Cowslip Green. Perhaps the most powerful was the purchase of a piece of ground in the vicinity. Having selected a spot which commanded a view of the fine scenery of the vale of Wrington, she built a comfortable mansion. With this residence, her sisters were so pleased, that they disposed of their property at Bath, and made Barley Wood their home, in 1802. The clouds of obloquy had now broken up, and in the clear brightness which succeeded, Mrs. More had thrown herself into fresh local charities, and was engaged with new literary undertakings, when she received a severe blow, in consequence of the death of Bishop Porteus, in 1809. A few months before, he had paid a visit to Barley Wood. The bishop bequeathed to Mrs. More a legacy of £100, and she consecrated to his memory, in the plantation near her house, an urn, with an inscription as unpretending as her sorrow was sincere.

The family circle which had remained unbroken for fifty-six years, now approached inevitable dissolution. Mary, the eldest sister, died in 1813. Elizabeth, the second, sank to rest in 1816. Sarah, the third, fell asleep in 1817. Martha, the fifth, departed this life in 1819. The sisters had lived most happily together, and these bereavements were felt by Mrs. More with all the keenness of her sensitive nature. The poor people had been accustomed to look to Barley Wood as their chief resource, and scarcely a day passed without the arrival of some petitioner from the neighbourhood. For some weeks their visits had ceased, and when Mrs. More asked the schoolmaster of Shipham the reason, he answered,“Why, madam, they be so cut up, that they have not the heart to come!”

Years rolled on, and Barley Wood once more became a place of general resort. But its mistress was not destined to end her days in the home where she had lived so long. The duties of housekeeping, when devolved upon her in weakness and old age, proved too great a burden. When the waste and misconduct of her servants became manifest, she tried to correct the evil by mild remonstrance; but when at length discoveries were made, calculated to represent her as the patroness of vice, or at least as indifferent to its progress, she discharged her eight pampered minions, and broke up her establishment at sweet Barley Wood. As she was assisted into the carriage, she cast one pensive parting glance upon the spot she loved best on earth, and gently exclaimed, “I am driven like Eve out of paradise; but not like Eve, by angels.” On the 18th of April, 1828, she established herself at No. 4, Windsor Terrace, Clifton.

In September, 1832, she had a serious illness, and from that period, a decay of mental vigour was perceptible. At length, nature seemed to shrink from further conflict, and the time of her deliverance drew nigh. On the 7th of September, 1833, within five months of the completion of her eighty-ninth year, she passed the barrier of time, and joined that “multitude whom no man can number, who sing the praises of God and of the Lamb for ever and ever.”

The shops in the city of Bristol were shut, and the church bells rang muffled peals as the funeral procession of that child of a charity schoolmaster movedalong the streets to the grave in Wrington churchyard. The mortal remains of the five sisters rest together under a large slab stone, inclosed by an iron railing and overshadowed by a yew-tree. A mural tablet in the parish church records their memory. Mrs. Hannah More’s record is on high, and her virtues are inscribed on an enduring monument: of her most truly it might be said—

“Marble need not mark thine ashes,Sculpture need not tell of thee;For thine image in thy writingsAnd on many a soul shall be.”

“Marble need not mark thine ashes,

Sculpture need not tell of thee;

For thine image in thy writings

And on many a soul shall be.”

SUCCESSFUL AUTHORSHIP.

Mrs. More as a woman of letters now demands our attention. Probably no woman ever read more books, or to better purpose; had more extensive opportunities of exercising the faculty of observation, or so sagaciously improved it. Her command of language, erudite, rhetorical, conversational, and colloquial, is commensurate with the noble literature and tongue of Britain. In the days of her infancy, when she could possess herself of a scrap of paper, her delight was to scribble upon it some essay or poem, with some well-directed moral. One couplet of an infantine satire on Bristol has been preserved:—

“This road leads to a great city,Which is more populous than witty.”

“This road leads to a great city,

Which is more populous than witty.”

At this period, she was wont to make a carriage of a chair, and then to call her sisters to ride with her to London, to see bishops and booksellers. In 1762,before she had completed her seventeenth year, she wrote a pastoral drama, “The Search after Happiness,” which was published in 1773, and in a short time ran through three editions. In 1774, she brought out a tragedy, “The Inflexible Captive.” The following year it was acted at Exeter and Bath, with the greatest applause, in the presence of a host of distinguished persons. In 1776, she offered Cadell, the publisher, her legendary tale of “Sir Eldred of the Bower,” and the little poem of the “Bleeding Rock,” which she had written some years previously. She received forty guineas for them. In 1777, her tragedy of “Percy” was produced at Covent Garden theatre. The success of the play was complete. An edition of nearly four thousand copies was sold in a fortnight. The theatrical profits amounted to £600, and for the copyright of the play she got £150 more. In 1779, “The Fatal Falsehood” was published, and notwithstanding several disadvantages, was well received. In 1782, she presented to the world a volume of “Sacred Dramas,” with a poem annexed, entitled “Sensibility.” They were extremely popular with the arbiters of taste, and sold with extraordinary rapidity. In 1786, she published another volume of poetry, “Florio: a Tale for Fine Gentlemen and Fine Ladies,” and “The Bas Bleu; or, Conversation.” These received a welcome as enthusiastic as if England had been one vast drawing-room, and she the petted heiress, sure of social applause for all her sayings and doings. In 1788, appeared “Thoughts on the Importance of the Manners of the Great to General Society.” It was published anonymously, but the writer was soonrecognised, and the book obtained an enormous sale. In 1791, she issued a sequel to this work, under the title of “An Estimate of the Religion of the Fashionable World.” It was bought up and read with the same avidity as its predecessor. In 1792, she produced a dialogue, called “Village Politics.” Thousands of copies were purchased by the Government for gratuitous distribution, and it was translated into several languages. In 1793, she published her “Remarks on the Speech of M. Duport,” which brought her in more than £240. In 1795, she commenced “The Cheap Repository,” consisting of tales, both in prose and verse. The undertaking was continued for about three years, and each number attained to a very large sale. In 1799, appeared her “Strictures on the Modern System of Female Education.” Seven large editions were sold in twelve months. In 1805, was produced, “Hints towards forming the Character of a young Princess,” for which she received the thanks of the queen and royal family. In 1809, she published “Cœlebs in search of a Wife,” two volumes. The first edition was sold in a fortnight, and eleven editions more were demanded in less than twelve months. In 1811, “Practical Piety” made its appearance, in two volumes. It was worthy of its large sale and great celebrity. In 1812, her “Christian Morals” was brought out, in two volumes, and met with good reception, although not equal to that of her two last works. In 1815, she published her “Essay on the Character and Writings of St. Paul,” two volumes; a work which, in the estimation of competent judges, more than sustained her previous reputation. In 1818, at the request of Sir AlexanderJohnston, she wrote a dramatic piece, “The Feast of Freedom,” for translation into the Cingalese language, to be performed by a native choir, at anniversary celebrations of the 12th of August, 1816. In 1819, she published her “Moral Sketches of Prevailing Opinions and Manners, Foreign and Domestic, with Reflections on Prayer.” The first edition was sold in one day, and realized £3000. The collection of her writings is comprised in eleven volumes octavo.

Her books bear testimony to her many talents, good sense, and real piety. There occur, every now and then, in her works, very original and very profound observations, conveyed in the most brilliant and inviting style. Her characters are often well drawn, her scenes well painted, and she could be amusing in no ordinary degree when she liked. Although we have no hesitation in admitting her into the long list of canonized bards, yet it must be confessed that her literary renown is chiefly derived from her prose works. She has been censured for the frequent repetition of the same thought in different words. Superficial readers, as well as hearers, require such a mode of composition. Iteration is not tautology.

The great success of the different works of our authoress enabled her to live at ease, and to dispense charities around her. She realized by her pen alone, more than £30,000. Upwards of 50,000 copies of her larger works were sold, while her tracts and ballads were circulated over the country by millions. We venture to affirm that her books were more numerous, that they passed through more editions,that they were printed in more languages, and that they were read by more people, than those of any other authoress upon record.

CHARACTER OF MRS. MORE.

Genius is not often combined with a strong physical constitution. Mrs. More was no exception to this rule; for although her general health was about the average, she often composed under aches and pains which would have entirely deterred others from the use of the pen. Her figure was graceful, and her manners captivating. The eye, which her sisters called “diamond,” and which the painters complained they could not put upon canvas, coruscated, and her countenance sparkled, when engaged in conversation. She knew that in all companies, she was a principal object of attention, yet she never wore a jewel or trinket, or anything of the merely ornamental kind, during her whole life, though much of that life was spent in the society of the great and high-born.

In glancing at her intellectual character, the first thing that strikes us is its versatility—a fact proved by this, that she frequently appears in different compartments. Thus she was at once a poetess, a dramatist, a fictionist, a moralist, a religious writer, and a conversationalist. No wonder that she often received messages from His Majesty King George the Third, from the Queen, and other members of the royal family; and that her friendship was eagerly sought by coronets and mitres. Mr. Roberts, one of her biographers, says:—“All the powers of her mind were devoted to the solid improvement of society.Her aims were all practical; and it would be difficult to name another who has laid before the public so copious a variety of original thoughts and reasonings, without any admixture of speculation or hypothesis.”

The moral capacity is the imperial crown of humanity. Veneration, benevolence, conscientiousness, hope, faith, are the brightest jewels of this crown. In Mrs. More, the moral sentiments were superior even to the intellectual faculties. She exactly discerned the signs of the times, and adroitly adapted her writings to the necessities of her generation. All of them are more or less calculated to benefit society, and never did personal example more strongly enforce preceptive exhortation, than in the instance of this eminent and excellent woman.

“We have no hesitation in attesting our belief that Mrs. Grant’s writings have produced a strong and salutary effect upon her countrymen, who not only found recorded in them much of national history and antiquities, which would otherwise have been forgotten, but found them combined with the soundest and best lessons of virtue and morality.”

Sir Walter Scott.

LETTER-WRITERS.

A good deal of literary fame has been won by letter-writing. It were easy to name authors whose letters are generally considered as their best works, and who owe their position in British literature, to those pictures of society and manners, compoundedof wit and gaiety, shrewd observations, sarcasm, censoriousness, high life, and sparkling language, for which their correspondence is remarkable. We might refer, in proof of our position, to a celebrated peer, who was the most accomplished man of his age. In point of morality his letters are not defensible. Johnson said that they taught the morals of a courtesan with the manners of a dancing-master. But they are also characterised by good sense and refined taste, and are models of literary art. The copyright was sold for £1500, and five editions were called for within twelve months. Authoresses have also been distinguished for the excellence and extent of their epistolary correspondence. We might adduce as an example a noble lady, who to her myrtle-crown of beauty, and her laurel-crown of wit, added the oaken-leaved crown,—thecorona civica,—due to those who have saved fellow-creatures’ lives. For graphic power, clearness, and idiomatic grace of style, no less than as pictures of foreign scenery, and manners, and decisiveness about life, her letters have very few equals, and scarcely any superiors. There can be no doubt as to the utility and importance of letter-writing, yet few seem to cultivate with care this department. But let us rejoice, that though the excuses and apologies of the majority prove that they are not what we conventionally term good correspondents, yet there are some splendid exceptions, who are aware of the importance of this art as a means of promoting social affection, and moral pleasure and profit, and whose style scarcely yields in simplicity, playfulness, and ease, to the eminent examples already cited.

BIOGRAPHY.

Anne Macvicar, was born at Glasgow, on the 21st of February, 1755. She was an only child. Her father, Duncan Macvicar, she describes as having been “a plain, brave, pious man.” He appears to have been brought up to an agricultural life, but having caught the military spirit, which in that day was almost universal among the Scottish Highlanders, he became an officer in the British army. Her mother was a descendant of the ancient family of Stewart of Invernahyle in Argyleshire. She was a Lowlander only by the mere accident of her birthplace. Nursed at Inverness, the home of her grandmother, the earliest sights and sounds with which she was familiar, were those of Highland scenery and Highland tongues.

In a paper containing a rapid view of her childhood, she says, “I began to live to the purposes of feeling, observation, and recollection, much earlier than children usually do. I was not acute, I was not sagacious, but I had an active imagination and uncommon powers of memory. I had no companion; no one fondled or caressed me, far less did any one take the trouble of amusing me. I did not till the sixth year of my age possess a single toy. A child with less activity of mind, would have become torpid under the same circumstances. Yet whatever of purity of thought, originality of character, and premature thirst for knowledge distinguished me from other children of my age, was, I am persuaded, very much owing to these privations. Never was a human being less improved, in the sense in which that expression is generally understood; but never was one less spoiledby indulgence, or more carefully preserved from every species of mental contagion. The result of the peculiar circumstances in which I was placed had the effect of making me a kind of anomaly very different from other people, and very little influenced by the motives, as well as very ignorant of the modes of thinking and acting, prevalent in the world at large.” These singular influences directed her to authorship in the first instance, and gave much of its interest to what she wrote.

When eighteen months old, she was brought back to Glasgow, that her father might have a parting look of her before leaving his native country for America, in the 77th regiment of foot. His wife and daughter remained in Glasgow, in the eastern extremity of the town. Probably from hearing her mother describing the New World as westward, Anne Macvicar set out one Sunday evening, when only two years and eight months old, and walked a mile to the west of the Trongate. A lady saw, with some surprise, a child neatly dressed in white, with bare head and bare arms, walking alone in the middle of the street. She asked her where she came from; but the only answer was, “from mamma’s house.” Then she inquired where she was going, and was told in a very imperfect manner “to America, to seek papa.” However, while the lady was lost in wonder, a bell was heard in the street, and the public crier had the pleasure of restoring the young traveller to her mother.

In 1758, she arrived with her mother at Charleston, and soon after they were settled at Claverock, where Mr. Macvicar was stationed with a party of Highlanders. Here she not only learned to read, but tolove truth and simplicity. Her father meanwhile being engaged in active service.

In 1760, he returned from the campaign, and they went to Albany, on the Hudson River, where she saw the Highland soldiers dragging through the streets the cannon destined for the attack on the Havannah. She thus describes an excursion about this time up the Hudson in boats. “We had a most romantic journey; sleeping sometimes in the woods, sometimes in forts, which formed a chain of posts in the then trackless wilderness. We had no books but the Bible and some military treatises; but I grew familiar with the Old Testament; and a Scotch sergeant brought me ‘Blind Harry’s Wallace;’ which by the aid of such sergeant, I conned so diligently, that I not only understood the broad Scotch, but caught an admiration for heroism, and an enthusiasm for Scotland, that ever since has been like a principle of life.”

She returned from Oswego to Albany in 1766; and, on her way back, a Captain Campbell gave her a handsome copy of Milton; concerning which she says, “I studied, to very little purpose no doubt, all the way down in the boat; but which proved a treasure to me afterwards, as I never rested till I found out the literal meaning of the words; and, in progress of time, at an age I am ashamed to mention, entered into the full spirit of it. If I had ever any elevation of thought, expansion of mind, or genuine taste for the sublime or beautiful, I owe it to my diligent study of this volume.” Facts prove that the growth of mind is best promoted by that which at first it is capable of understanding only partially. This is clear from what came out of Anne Macvicar’s study of Paradise Lost. The most eminentwoman in Albany at that time was the widow of Colonel Schuyler. Her house was the resort of all strangers, whose manners or conduct entitled them to her regard. Her ancestors, understanding, and education, gave her great influence in society, which was increased by the liberal use she made of her large fortune. “Some time after our arrival at Albany,” writes our authoress, “I accompanied my parents one evening to visit Madame Schuyler, whom I regarded as the Minerva of my imagination, and treasured all her discourses as the veritable words of wisdom. The conversation fell upon dreams and forewarnings. I rarely spoke till spoken to at any time; but of a sudden the spirit moved me to say that bad angels sometimes whispered dreams into the soul. When asked for my authority, I surprised every one, but myself most of all, by a long quotation from Eve’s fatal dream infusing into her mind the ambition that led to guilt. After this happy quotation I became a great favourite, and Madame Schuyler never failed to tell any one who had read Milton of the origin of her partiality.” At this time Anne Macvicar was hardly seven years old.

Mr. Macvicar, like most Scotchmen, had the faculty of making money, and with the view of settling in America had obtained a large grant of land, and had purchased several valuable properties, the market value of which was every day rising. Miss Macvicar was looked upon as an heiress; but her father, falling into bad health, was obliged to return to Scotland in 1768, bringing his wife and daughter along with him. He had left America without being able to dispose of his property, and on the breaking out of the revolutionarywar, the whole was confiscated by the republican government.

In 1773, her father was appointed barrack master of Fort Augustus, in Inverness-shire. Here she first met the Rev. James Grant, a young clergyman of refined mind, sound principle, and correct judgment. At that time he was chaplain to the garrison, but in 1776, he became the minister of Laggan, a neighbouring parish, and in 1779, was united in marriage to Miss Macvicar. In that Highland parish, fifty miles from Perth, and the same distance from Inverness, they lived contentedly in the chosen lot of Agur.

Time flowed on characterised by the usual amount of shadow and sunshine. In 1801, her husband was carried off by consumption; and she found herself burdened with the care of eight children, to which was added the pressure of some pecuniary obligations incurred by a too liberal hospitality. The children inherited the same insidious disease. Three sank under their mother’s eyes in infancy, and the eldest, who held a commission in the army, died a few months before his father. Of twelve sons and daughters only one survived her.

All her certain income was a small pension from the War Office, to which she was entitled in consequence of her husband having obtained a military chaplaincy a few years before his death. In these circumstances, her first step was to take charge of a small farm in the neighbourhood of Laggan; but this expedient soon failed.

In 1803, she unwillingly removed from Laggan to Woodend, now called Gartur, two miles south-westof Stirling, a place of unrivalled beauty. In 1806, we find Mrs. Grant residing in Stirling, so renowned in Scottish history, and supporting herself and family by literature.

In 1810, Mrs. Grant removed from Stirling to Edinburgh, where she spent the remainder of her life, distinguished in society for her great talents, and esteemed for her many virtues. Her object in making the capital her home, and the circle in which she mingled, are fully described in her correspondence.

In 1820, she fell down a stair, which caused serious injury, followed by long and severe suffering, and by lameness for the rest of her days. In 1825, a pension, which at first amounted to only £50, but was afterwards increased to £100 per annum, was granted her by government, in consequence of an application in her behalf, which was drawn out by Sir Walter Scott, and subscribed by the most distinguished literati in Edinburgh; who therein declared their belief that Mrs. Grant had rendered eminent services to the cause of religion, morality, knowledge, and taste.

Notwithstanding many and heavy family trials, this strong-hearted woman continued to correspond with her friends, and receive those who visited her, until the end of October, 1838, when she was seized with a severe attack of influenza. Her son was with her during her last illness, and she was sedulously attended by a lady and servants. She died at her house 9, Manor Place, on the 7th November, 1838, at the advanced age of eighty-four years.

A few days afterwards, a mournful multitude followed her remains to the cemetery of St. Cuthbert’s, then nearly new. She was buried near the graves offour of her daughters. Her son erected a monument to her memory.

LITERARY CAREER.

We receive a vast amount of education from the localities in which we live. From the sketch of her own life it is evident that Mrs. Grant was well aware of the educative influence of scenery. Who can tell how much she learned, during the ten years she lived beside the vast lakes, the magnificent rivers, and the primæval forests of America; and the thirty years spent amid the beauties and glories of the Highlands, apart from all set teaching, away from all formal schools. It is good to see the horizon one red line, pointing like a finger to the unrisen sun—to hear the earliest notes of the birds—to trample on the emerald grass and the blooming heather—to notice the “morning spread upon the mountains,” peak telegraphing to peak that the king of day has just entered the sky—to listen to such stories as lonely hills and misty moors alone can inspire. In this sublime natural system of education, Mrs. Grant had a large share. It stirred her warm imagination, and nourished her poetic faculty.

After the death of her excellent husband, Mrs. Grant had mainly to depend for bread to herself and children, upon her own exertions. In these circumstances she was led to try whether she could not better her fortunes by the exercise of her literary talents, hitherto employed only for her own amusement and the gratification of a few intimate friends. Her first essay at poetry was scrawled in a kind ofMiltonic verse, when little more than nine years old. She wrote no more till she wandered on the banks of the Cart, and afterwards at Fort Augustus, and again upon her way home to Laggan, after spending some months at Glasgow. All these scraps she gave away, without preserving a single copy. But the friends among whom Mrs. Grant scattered her verses carefully treasured them, and in 1803, her first publication—“The Highlanders, and other Poems”—was announced to be published by subscription; and so well did her friends exert themselves, that three thousand subscribers were soon procured. This volume, though not reviewed in the most flattering terms, was well received by the public; and its profits enabled Mrs. Grant to discharge her debts. The following description of the Highland poor, is from the principal poem in the collection:—

“Where yonder ridgy mountains bound the scene,The narrow opening glens that interveneStill shelter, in some lonely nook obscure,One poorer than the rest, where all are poor:Some widowed matron, hopeless of relief,Who to her secret breast confines her grief;Dejected sighs the wintry night away,And lonely muses all the summer day.Her gallant sons, who, smit with honour’s charms,Pursued the phantom Fame through war’s alarms,Return no more; stretched on Hindostan’s plain,Or sunk beneath the unfathomable main,In vain her eyes the watery waste exploreFor heroes—fated to return no more!”

“Where yonder ridgy mountains bound the scene,

The narrow opening glens that intervene

Still shelter, in some lonely nook obscure,

One poorer than the rest, where all are poor:

Some widowed matron, hopeless of relief,

Who to her secret breast confines her grief;

Dejected sighs the wintry night away,

And lonely muses all the summer day.

Her gallant sons, who, smit with honour’s charms,

Pursued the phantom Fame through war’s alarms,

Return no more; stretched on Hindostan’s plain,

Or sunk beneath the unfathomable main,

In vain her eyes the watery waste explore

For heroes—fated to return no more!”

“The Highlanders,” which gives the title to the book, is a poetical regret at the hard fate that forced so many to emigrate. The other poems are on a varietyof topics, chiefly in illustration of the manners of the people among whom she lived. Take the following stanza on a sprig of heather:—

“Flower of the wild! whose purple glowAdorns the dusky mountain’s side,—Not the gay hues of Iris’ horn,Nor garden’s artful varied pride;With all its wealth of sweets could cheer,Like thee, the hardy mountaineer.”

“Flower of the wild! whose purple glow

Adorns the dusky mountain’s side,—

Not the gay hues of Iris’ horn,

Nor garden’s artful varied pride;

With all its wealth of sweets could cheer,

Like thee, the hardy mountaineer.”

One of her songs, commencing, “Oh, where, tell me where?” written on the occasion of the Marquis of Huntly’s departure for Holland with his regiment, the 92nd, or Gordon Highlanders, in 1799, has become generally known. We select the following verse as a specimen:—

“Oh, what, tell me what, does your Highland laddie wear?Oh, what, tell me what, does your Highland laddie wear?A bonnet with a lofty plume, the gallant badge of war,And a plaid across the manly breast that soon shall wear a star;A bonnet with a lofty plume, the gallant badge of war,And a plaid across the manly breast that soon shall wear a star.”

“Oh, what, tell me what, does your Highland laddie wear?

Oh, what, tell me what, does your Highland laddie wear?

A bonnet with a lofty plume, the gallant badge of war,

And a plaid across the manly breast that soon shall wear a star;

A bonnet with a lofty plume, the gallant badge of war,

And a plaid across the manly breast that soon shall wear a star.”

The merit, however, of Mrs. Grant’s poems was really slight; but success prompted another attempt at authorship. The result was her best and most popular work, the “Letters from the Mountains,” which was published in 1806, went through several editions, and was highly appreciated among the talented and influential men of the day. No person was so much astonished as herself on hearing that “Letters from the Mountains,” divided with some other publications the attention of readers. In October, 1807, she writes:—“Longman, who is doubtless the prince of booksellers, has written mea letter, expressed with such delicacy and liberality as is enough to do honour to all Paternoster Row: he tells me that the profits of the second edition of the Letters amount to £400, of which they keep £100 to answer for bad debts and uncalculated expenses, and against the beginning of next year I get the other £300.” Publishers, as a rule, deal liberally with popular writers. “Memoirs of an American Lady, with Sketches, Manners, and Scenery in America, as they existed previous to the Revolution,” were published in 1808. She received £200 as profits from the New World. “Essays on the Superstitions of the Highlanders of Scotland, with Traditions from the Gaelic,” appeared in 1811; and in no degree detracted from her well-earned literary reputation. A poem, entitled “Eighteen Hundred and Thirteen,” was published in 1814. Afterwards her pen was occasionally employed in magazine contributions. In 1821, the Highland Society of London awarded her their gold medal for the best essay on the “Past and Present State of the Highlands of Scotland.”

In the words of a competent critic, “The writings of this lady display a lively and observant fancy, and considerable powers of landscape painting. They first drew attention to the more striking and romantic features of the Scottish highlands, afterwards so fertile a theme for the genius of Scott.”

CHARACTER OF MRS. GRANT.

Mrs. Grant was tall, and, in her youth, slender, but after her accident she became rather corpulent. In her later years she was described as a venerable ruin;so lame as to be obliged to walk with crutches, and even with that assistance her motions were slow and languid. Her broad and noble forehead, relieved by the parted grey hair, excelled even youthful beauty. There was a dignity and a sedateness in her carriage which rendered her highly interesting, and her excellent constitution bore her through a great deal.

Her conversation was original and characteristic; frank, yet far from rude; replete at once with amusement and instruction. For nearly thirty years she was a principal figure in the best and most intellectual society of the Scottish metropolis; and to the last her literary celebrity made her an object of curiosity and attraction to strangers from all parts of the world. The native simplicity of her mind, and an entire freedom from all attempt at display, made the youngest person feel in the presence of a friend. Her extensive correspondence, she believed, had a tendency to prolong her life. She was fond of having flowers and birds in her sitting room. Nature in all her phases, aspects, and transitions, had charms for her. Notwithstanding her increasing infirmities, and even with the accumulated sorrows of her peculiar lot, she did not find old age so dark and unlovely as the Celtic bard.

The cheerfulness of Mrs. Grant, and the lively appreciation she had of everything done to promote her comfort, rendered her, to the latest period of her prolonged existence, a delightful companion; while the warm interest she felt in whatever contributed to the happiness of others, kept her own affections alive. She was left a widow, without fortune, and with a large family dependent upon her for their subsistence.Surely if any one had a clear title of immunity from the obligation to carry her cares beyond her own threshold, it was this woman. Yet she devoted much of her time to benevolent efforts. If there was any quality of her well-balanced mind which stood out more prominently than another, it was that benevolence which made her study the comfort of every person who came in contact with her. Many and hard were her struggles for life, but she never lost confidence in Divine goodness.

“What woman indeed, (and we may add) how many men, could have preserved all the grace and brilliancy of Parisian society in analyzing its nature—explained the most abstruse metaphysical theories of Germany precisely, yet perspicuously and agreeably—and combined the eloquence which inspires exalted sentiments of virtue, with the enviable talent of gently indicating the defects of men or of nations, by the skilfully softened touches of a polite and merciful pleasantry.”

Sir James Mackintosh.

VERSATILITY OF GENIUS.

It has been maintained that all human minds are originally constituted alike, and that the diversity of gifts which afterwards appears results from education. But it is plain enough that God hath made marvellous differences, original and constitutional, which no education can wholly reduce. All children are not alike precocious; and all adults are not alike capable of learning or of teaching. Education will do much,but it cannot convert talent into genius, or efface the distinction which subsists between them. No education can give what nature has denied—for education can only work on that which is given. Some receive at birth minds so obtuse, that although sent to school, furnished with accomplished teachers, and surrounded with all the appliances of learning, they emerge dunces; while others, by the sheer force of their genius, push their way upwards to eminence, amid every form of hardship, difficulty, and privation. The character of mental products is as much determined by the natural condition and constitution of mind as are the natural products of the earth determined by its physical conditions. It would be just as irrational to expect glowing pictures, grand conceptions, and lofty harmonies to spring in the universal mind, as to expect to clothe the whole globe with the cocoa, the palm-tree, and the banian. Original genius must be inherited. The thoughts which rise in the gifted mind—the flash of wit and the play of fancy—are as independent of the will as is the weed at the bottom of the sea, or the moss on the summit of the hill independent of the farmer. In glancing over the catalogue of our mental aristocracy, we are struck with the versatility of genius. It is no hard unbending thing, confined to a few topics, and hemmed in by a few principles; but a free mountain flame, not unfrequently as broad in its range as burning in its radiance. Many of both sexes are equally happy in science, art, philosophy, and literature.

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