[Still living.]
Second daughter of Charles Kemble: highly distinguished as a vocalist of the Italian school; she made her first appearance at Covent Garden Theatre, in Norma, Nov. 2, 1841, and sang and acted with great success at the same theatre in 1841 and 1842; but at the end of 1842 she retired from her profession into private life.
[By Dantan, of Paris.]
405*. Grace Darling. Lighthouse-keeper’s Daughter.
[Born at Bamborough, Northumberland, 1815. Died 1842. Aged 27.]
“One whose very name bespeaks
Favour divine, exalting human love;
Whom, since her birth on bleak Northumbria’s coast,
Known unto few, but prized as far as known,
A single act endears to high and low,
Through the whole land.”—Wordsworth.
Grace was the seventh child of a humble man who had charge of a lighthouse on one of the Farne Islands, off the coast of Northumberland. In the month of September, 1888, the “Forfarshire” steamer, of 300 tons, having on board sixty-three souls, during a terrible storm and dense fog, struck on a rock within a mile of the light-house. It was deep night. The ship snapped in half. Nearly all the creatures on board were swallowed by the chafing sea; and when morning broke, all that remained of the “Forfarshire” and its people, were nine of the passengers clinging to the windlass in the forepart of the vessel. It was a fearful morning, the fog still prevailing—the sea hardly less boisterous. Through the mist, however, the sad spectacle could be witnessed from the mainland, and a reward was offered to any boat’s crew that would venture to the rescue. It was offered in vain. But the despairing castaways were visible also from the lighthouse, where none was rich enough to offer reward of any kind, for the sole inhabitants were husband, wife, and daughter. It was the last watch before extinguishing the light at sunrise, and Grace was keeping it. She intreated her father to go to sea, and he consenting, the girl shared his boat, and the pair in dread and awe put off. Why speak of danger? Why detail the miracle? The risk was incalculable. The chances of recovery, nay, of self-preservation, were infinitesimal. But God strengthened the woman’s arm, as he had visited her heart, and, after painful labour, the rescue was effected. The delivered nine were taken to the lighthouse, and there kindly treated by the heroic girl and her aged parents. The spirit of the nation was stirred by the act. Money enough to provide for her as long as she should live, and gifts innumerable, were brought to her sea-girt rock; but she would not leave the light-house. Why should she? What place so fitting to hold this queen? She held her modest Court there until her early death. One who visited her speaks of her genuine simplicity, her quiet manner, her perfect goodness. In 1841, symptoms of consumption—the poisonous seed sown, it may be, on that drear morning—revealed themselves. In a few months she died, quietly, happily, religiously. Shortly before her death, she received a farewell visit from one of her own sex, who came in humble attire, to bid her God speed on her last illimitable journey. The good sister was the Duchess of Northumberland, and her coronet will shine the brighter for all time, because of that affectionate and womanly leave-taking. Joan of Arc has her monument. Let Grace of Northumbria have none. Her deed is registered—
“in the rolls of Heaven, where it will live
A theme for angels when they celebrate
The high-souled virtues which forgetful earth
Has witnessed.”
[Medallion by David Dunbar. Modelled from the marble bust in the possession of the Bishop of Durham. The original model was taken. from the life at the Longstone lighthouse, soon after the incident above recorded, and three years before the death of Grace.]
405.** William Darling. Lighthouse-Keeper.