Many a laugh, we may be sure, had the lighthouse-family over such articles, though there can be no doubt that the good sense of Grace caused her to take advantage of every lesson taught to her, whether by words of praise or blame. We cannot, perhaps, exalt her deed too highly, but it should always be borne in mind, that she would have been just as good a girl if the "Forfarshire" had never been wrecked on the coast of the Farne Islands. Grace was heroic already, but the catastrophe brought her qualities of courage, endurance, and humanity, to the front. One feels glad to know that all the praise did not make her other than the humble British girl, though few, perhaps, could pass through such an ordeal of adulation unscathed. The flatteries had, however, a ludicrous as well as a touching side, as may be seen from the following extract. Hero-worship leads to the hoarding of many things, including bark of trees, stones, mortar, old rags, and hair; and it is little wonder if Grace found the latter tendency rather inconvenient.
"Grace Darling's name is now as well known throughout the island as Queen Anne's; and to tell people of the decease of the one is about as necessary as to warn them of the living glory of the other. Grace is the admired of all admirers, and far is it from us to wish her grace diminished in men's eyes, or herself less a darling than she is at present. But the enthusiasm of gratitude and idolatry is becoming somewhat alarming. We know not how the persons who, principally by her intrepidity, were saved from the wreck of the 'Forfarshire,' may feel towards their 'good angel in the hour of fate,' but every body else seems to think of her as one to whom they owe the life of some being related to themselves by blood, and inestimably prized by affection. The universal feeling in this case shows us how truly
'One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.'
"All feel individually grateful to Grace Darling; and not a stranger that talks of her but knows her intimately. But, as we have said, the expression of this feeling of love and reverence is assuming an awkward character. It has taken, it appears, the shape or shapes of infinite demands upon her generosity in a minor way—of countless and incalculable requests addressed to her by admirers of heroism, whenever stirred out of their arm chairs but to accommodate themselves, and trumpeters of intrepidity who have fainted at the bare idea of getting wet-footed, that she will be so exceedingly self-devoted and munificent as to clip from her head a curl—just one—as a token by which her name and nature may be identified and treasured up; just one ringlet—one apiece, for upwards of ten thousand applicants scattered over various parts of the kingdom, but all linked together by a common sentiment. The last report is (we quote the newspapers) that Grace is nearly bald; that lock after lock has gone, each finding its way into ring, brooch, or locket, until
'The Darling of life's crew'
discovers, like Caesar, that a laurel crown may be worn for use as well as ornament—may hide as well as adorn. Really, a lock at a time is an extravagance—a hair should suffice; for if ever it could be said that
'Beauty draws us by a single hair,'
it may be said of the moral beauty of Grace Darling.
"It is impossible to guard ourselves against the tendencies to enthusiastic devotion for the living life preserver, because the very name is a provocative. Were two such words ever before combined to form a name?—the one expressing the natural quality of the bearer of it, and the other defining what her deeds have made her in the regard of others."
Not only was Grace Darling herself likely to be made bald by the request of her loving admirers, but those who belonged to her shared the same inconvenience. One of her younger brothers was away at sea, and did not know of his sister's fame until he came into the Thames. No sooner, however, was his name heard than he had to answer a number of questions. Did he know anything of the Longstone lighthouse? Had he a sister? Was the great Grace Darling any relation to him? As soon as it was known that he really belonged to the same family, he was himself exalted into a hero of the second class, and people thronged round to look at, admire, and cross-question him. The young fellow bore it all very good-humouredly—in fact, he rather liked it. But after a time his numerous and newly-found friends conceived the idea of possessing a lock of the Darling hair, and the young man could not well refuse so flattering a request. So one helped herself, and told her friend, who told his friend, and so it went on; and the end was, that young Darling, who possessed a curly head of hair, became completely, and rather irregularly shorn.