This species of poetry sets forth the inward occurrences of the writer’s or speaker’s own mind—concerns itself with the thoughts and emotions. It is called lyric, because it was originally accompanied by the music of that instrument. Purely lyrical pieces are from their nature short, and fall into several divisions, which are again subdivided into psalms and songs. Passion, genius, a teeming brain, a palpitating heart, and a soul on fire, are necessary to lyrical composition. The poetry that lives among the people, must indeed be simple—but the simplest feelings are the deepest, and when adequately expressed, are immortal. The song-writer and the psalmist are equally divine; and the rich and noble melodies which they send abroad from their resounding lyres, the world claims as an inheritance. True lyrics themselves may be weak and wandering, but the children of their brains are strong and immortal. Empires may pass away, but the ecstatic ether which they breathe on the world, shall remain. That sweet psalm, “The Lord is my Shepherd,” was drawn by David from the strings of a well-tuned instrument, and it expresses the feelings of Christians in the nineteenth century, just as well as it did those of the devout in the long ages before Christ. The child commits it to memory, and the dying believer sings it with a heart empty of care and full of gladness. In “Auld Robin Gray,” Lady Anne Barnard spoke from her inmost heart. It instantly became popular, and has come down to us entire, as if all things had conspired that such a perfect, tender, and affecting song of humble life should never perish; but must be sung and wept over while the earth endureth. The lyric poetry of a country is characteristic of its manners.
BIOGRAPHY.
In the year 1786, George Browne, Esq., an eminent Liverpool merchant, married Miss Wagner, daughter of the Imperial and Tuscan consul. All the offspring of this marriage were distinguished by superior gifts, cultivated talents, and refined taste. Felicia Dorothea, the fifth child, was born in Duke Street, on the 25th of September, 1793, and was early found to be endowed with the two most coveted of earthly gifts—beauty and genius.
The first six years of her life, were passed in wealth and ease, but at the close of the century, in consequence of commercial difficulties, her father broke up his establishment at Liverpool, and removed to the sea-coast of Denbighshire, in North Wales, near the little town of Abergele, and shortly afterwards emigrated to America, where he died. The education of Felicia Browne thus devolved exclusively on her mother; and under her judicious instruction, she learned with facility the elements of general knowledge—evinced peculiar aptness for the acquisition of languages, drawing, and music—and derived information with extraordinary ease, quickness, and clearness, from all things visible, audible, and tangible. The air at Gwrych is salubrious, and the scenery around beautiful; and often in after-years did the gifted poetess recall those happy hours spent by the sea-shore, listening to the cadence of the waves; or passed in the old house, gazing across the intervening meadows on a range of magnificent mountains; or consumed in the vale of Clwyd, searching for primroses.
Mountains, the sea, and London, have been pronounced important points in education. Felicia Browne had long enjoyed the first and the second, and at the age of eleven completed the mind-enlarging triad, by paying a visit to the great metropolis. But despite the attractions of music, the drama, and works of art, the contrast between the hard pavement, crowded streets, and social constraint of London, and the glory, freshness, and freedom of her mountain home, made her more anxious to get away than ever she had been to come. Soon after she appeared in print, and the harsh animadversions of reviewers probably ignorant of the years of the authoress, so distressed the sensitive aspirant as to bring on an illness. In 1809, the family left Gwrych, and went to reside at Bronwylfa, near St. Asaph, in Flintshire. Here the work of intellectual development progressed steadily; and Miss Browne, already mistress of French and Italian, acquired the Spanish and Portuguese, with the rudiments of German.
In 1812, she was married to Captain Hemans, of the 4th foot, lately returned from Spanish service; and removed to Daventry with her husband, who was appointed adjutant to the Northamptonshire militia. The union was not a happy one. Mrs. Hemans had a splendid imagination, generous and active feelings, and a fine frank nature, which made her popular wherever she went. Captain Hemans was a handsome well-bred soldier, but of a cold methodical constitution, as destitute of the romantic element as the branches of trees in winter of all the green, soft luxury of foliage. There never has been a true marriage in this world without sympathy between the husband and the wife. A man of Captain Hemans’ temper was incapable of making a woman constituted like Mrs. Hemans permanently happy. In 1818, after the birth of five children, all sons, a separation took place, ostensibly because the captain, whose health was failing, was advised to try the effect of a warmer climate. He went to Italy, and she remained in England. They never saw each other afterwards.
Subsequently to a step which virtually amounted to a divorce, Mrs. Hemans and her children remained under her mother’s roof at Bronwylfa till the spring of 1825, when Mrs. Browne, with her daughter and grand-children, removed to Rhyllon, a comfortable house about a quarter of a mile distant, on the opposite side of the river Clwyd, with Bronwylfa in full sight. While domiciled at Rhyllon, Miss Jewsbury, with whom she had previously been in correspondence, frequently visited her and soothed her perturbed feelings. Mrs. Hemans took great delight in the company of Miss Jewsbury, and always expressed her sense of obligation to her for leading her more fully into the spirit of Wordsworth’s poetry, and for making her acquainted with many of his compositions. One autumn, on his return from exploring Snowdon, James Montgomery, like a true poet, came to Rhyllon, to offer honest homage to Mrs. Hemans.
Her pious and excellent mother died on the 11th of January, 1827, and soon after Mrs. Hemans removed to Wavertree, near Liverpool. Writing to a friend concerning the sorrows and conflicts of this period, she exclaims: “Oh, that I could lift up my heart, and sustain it at that height where alone the calm sunshine is!” Yet there were many alleviating circumstances connected with this migration. She was returning to the great seaport in which she was born, whose streets she had occasionally trodden, whose spires she had often seen, and which the inhabitants of Denbighshire and Flintshire had taught her to regard as a North Welsh metropolis. But the leaving of Wales was a great trial, and greatly augmented by the affectionate regrets and enthusiastic blessings of the Welsh peasants, who kissed the very gate-hinges through which she had passed. In her first letter from Wavertree to St. Asaph, she writes: “Oh, that Tuesday morning! I literally covered my face all the way from Bronwylfa, until the boys told me we had passed the Clwyd range of hills. Then something of the bitterness was over.” For the first time in her life she now took upon herself the sole responsibility of household management, became liable to the harassing cares of practical life, and subject to the formal restraints belonging to a great commercial town and its suburbs. In exchanging the ranges of the great hills, for long rows of houses—the blue seas and fresh breezes, for dirty wharves and dingy warehouses—familiar and loving faces, for the rude stare of strangers, and the simper of affected courtesy—her feelings experienced a series of shocks; and she held back from the gay world, and sought social pleasure in the company of a few chosen friends.
In 1829, having accepted an invitation to visit Scotland, where her writings had raised up for her a host of admirers, accompanied by her two elder sons and her maid, she embarked for the Firth of Forth. On their arrival in Edinburgh, her name won general homage, and all kinds of attention were lavished upon her, by the flower of its literature. Remaining a few days, with a keen but mournful interest, she wandered through the antique streets, wynds, and closes of the romantic capital; examined the castle, whose huge battlements command a panorama to which there are few, if any, parallels on earth; visited the Calton Hill, broken with cliffs, enamelled with golden furze, feathered with trees, and studded with monuments for the mighty dead; spent some time at Holyrood Palace, where the young, brilliant, and beautiful Mary reigned in queenly splendour; and having become acquainted with the principal objects of local interest, proceeded to Roxburghshire. At Abbotsford—that “romance of stone and mortar,” as it has been termed—Sir Walter Scott received her and her boys, and treated them with princely hospitality. On leaving Abbotsford, she remarks, “I shall not forget the kindness of Sir Walter’s farewell, so frank, and simple, and heartfelt, as he said to me, ‘There are some whom we meet, and should like ever after to claim as kith and kin; and you are one of those.’” During this sojourn, she became acquainted with many eminent persons, and when on the point of leaving, was persuaded to sit for a bust. The necessary process having been gone through, she returned to England.
In 1830, longing again for rural quiet, she visited the lakes and Mr. Wordsworth. In walking and riding, in boating on Windermere, in sketching woody mountains, in conversing with the meditative poet, and in writing poetry to absent friends, time glided rapidly away.