LIFE AND POETRY OF MARGARET DAVIDSON, BY WASHINGTON IRVING.

THE name of LUCRETIA DAVIDSON is regarded in America with the feeling mankind bestow upon loveliness of person, affectionate disposition, and high promise of intellectual eminence, cut off in in the bloom of early youth. The biographies of MORSE and SEDGWICK have also contributed to enhance the Transatlantic fame of the elder Miss DAVIDSON, in the way SOUTHEY formerly bestowed celebrity upon KIRKE WHITE, as, by a notice in the Quarterly some few years since, he has given a British currency to that of LUCRETIA DAVIDSON.

But LUCRETIA was not the only daughter of this family on whom

was bestowed the fatal gifts of fascinating beauty, intellectual pre- entity, and consumption ; the subject of the present biography having

of MARGARET'S own letters, or memoranda of her mother. groups in the history of modern literature to sunder them."

of any striking character, and perhaps without recording a well- assured promise of great genius, there is a deep and tender domestic

interest in the Life of MARGARET DAVIDSON, which sustains the reader from the opening to the close. It is not, in our opinion, looking out upon a lovely landscape, she exclaimed— the wonderful display in a child of a precocious aptitude for a See those lofty, those grand trees, particular pursuit, which forms the main interest in MARGARET Their high tops waving in the breeze; DAVIDSON, but her guileless and affectionate nature, her kindly They cast their shadows on the ground,

disposition, and the almost angelic mixture of deep love with

Her mother, who had several times been struck by little rhyming ejaculations strict duty which she displayed towards her family, especially to her of the kind, now handed her writing implements, and requested her to write mother. The mother herself, too, whilst narrating her daughter's down what she had just uttered. She appeared surprise I at the nregqng it in a request, ibut life, is all unconsciously depicting her own character : lady-like, complied ; writing it down as if it had been prose, without arrangingstanza, or commencing the lines with capitals; not seeming aware that she had mild, devoted, and submissive amidst the afflictions of bodily pain,

mental anxiety, and domestic bereavements, she inspires an interest

whether for good or for evil. From that time she wrote some scraps of poetry, almost coequal with her daughter. Perhaps there is also an attrac- or rather rhyme, every day ; which would be treasured up with delight by her tiveness in the glimpses given by the biography of American do- mother, who watched with trembling, yet almost fascinatedanxiety, these pre- mestic life in the older States, bringing to mind the pictures of mature blossomings of poetic fancy."

Miss SETHavvica's novels, and the passing hints, occasionally fur- She was also an adept in little plays, or story-telling,—another nished by European visitants, of a purer and higher circle in quality not rare in children, who even in their sports must get be- American society than that which greets the eyes of commercial yond the unsatisfying present.

travellers and scrambling tourists. It is impossible to suppose If at play with her little dog or kitten, she would carry on imaginary dia-

solo' domestic life, or the sufficient literature and graceful style of

that the native refinement and unaffected elegance of the DAVID- Mrs. DAVIDSON, are peculiar to one family, or could have been produced by independent nurture. her rival Elizabeth, or the simple cottage-maiden, each character was main- Apart from the variety of her accomplished tastes, and the w on- tained with propriety. In telling stories, (an amusement all children are fond derfid precocity she displayed in literature, there is nothing in the of,) hers were always original, and of a kind calculated to elevate the minds of career of little MARGARET essentially differing from what is daily the children present ; giving them exalted views of truth, honour, and inte- grity; and the sacrifice of all selfish feelings to the happiness of others was

occurring in thousands of families; though this, no doubt, gives

more breadth and generality to the interest. A fascinating ex- This talent for extemporaneous story-telling increased with exercise, until pression in infancy, expanding into a delicate but fragile beauty— she would carry on a narrative for hours together : and in nothing was the a brilliant gayety of manner, and an ardent excitement both in do- precocity of her inventive powers more apparent than in the discrimination mestic affections and studious pursuits—are traits the medical eye and individuality of her fictitious characters, the consistency with which they were sustained, the graphic force of her descriptions, the elevation of her is constantly and sadly noting. For conjoined with them are

symptoms which lead too surely to early death, through the deluding train of slight coughs, frequent colds, and occasional confinements to the sick-chamber ; each relapse enduring longer, and each con- valescence leaving the patient more debilitated and etherial, till tractive than the touching pictures of her domestic affections and those friends who hoped the longest, against professional intimation, her decline. In the spring of the last year of her life, she rallied, abandon the possibility of recovery as a futile idea, which clings and appeared better-

with tenacity to the parents alone, who " will not see " till their again," says her mother, " heard with agony the prophetic cough. I felt that child is actually dying. all was over l She thought that she had taken cold, and our friends were of To condense a story of this kind, omitting the development of the same opinion. ' It was a slight cold, which would vanish beneath the mild MARGARET'S mind and all the circumstantial details which contri-

bate to the effect, or the spirit which imparts life and interest to

sician, who had on many former occasions attended her. She was not aware of the continuous narrative, would be a tedious inutility. We will my present alarm, or that the physician was now consulted. He managed in a take, instead, a few of the most characteristic passages ; referring playful manner to feet her pulse, without her suspicions. After he had left the those who wish for a view of the whole to the volume itself. Here room, Madam,' said he, 'it is useless to hold out any false hopes; your WASHINGTON IRVING'S first interview with MARGARET, when he it/ daughter has a seated consumption, which is, I fear, beyond the reach of medi- called u on her mother in reference to a new edition of LUCRETIA'S cal skill. There is no hope in the case : make her as happy and as comfort- works, about which she had wished to consult him. be given up; walking is too great an exertion for her.' With an aching heart " Her appearance corresponded with the interesting idea given of her in her I returned to the lovely unconscious victim, and found her tying on her hatfor daughter's biography : she was feeble and emaciated, and supported by pillows a ramble. I gently tried to dissuade her from going. She caught my eye, and in an easy chair ; but there were the lingerings of grace and beauty in her form read there a tale of grief which she could not understand and I could not explain. and features, and her eye still gleamed with intelligence and sensibility. As soon as I dared trust my voice, I said, ' My dear Margaret, nothing has hap- " While conversing with her on the subject of her daughter's works, I ob- paned, only I have just been speaking with Dr. — respecting you, and he served a young girl, apparently not more than eleven years of age, moving advises that you give up walking altogether. Knowing how much you enjoy, quietly about her, occasionally arranging a pillow, and at the same time listen- it, I am pained to mention this, for I know that it will be a great privation. lag earnestly to our conversation. There was an intellectual beauty about this Why, mamma,' she exclaimed, ' this cold is wearing off; may I not walk child that struck me; and that was heightened by a blushing diffidence when then?' ' The Doctor thinks you should make no exertion of that kind ; but Mrs. Davidson presented her to me as her daughter Margaret. Shortly after- riding in fine weather may have a happy effect.' She stood and gazed upon wards, on her leaving the room, her mother, seeing that she had attracted my my face long and earnestly ; then untied her hat, and sat down, apparently attention, spoke of her as having evinced the same early poetical talent that ruminating upon what had passed: she asked no questions, but at expression had distinguished her sister; and. as evidence, showed me several copies of of thoughtfulness clouded her brow during the rest of the day. It was settled verses remarkable for such a child. On further inquiry, I found that she had that she was to ride out in fine weather, but not to walk out at all; and in a day very nearly the same moral and .physical constitution, and was prone to the or two she seemed to have forgotten the circumstance altogether. The return same feverish excitement of the mind and kindling of the imagination, that of the cough, and profuse night perspiration, too plainly told me her doom ; had acted so powerfully on the fragile frame of her sister Lucretia. I cautioned but I still clung to the hope, that, as she suffered no pain, she might by ten-

' the mother, therefore, against fostering her poetic vein, and advised such studies derjudicious treatment continue yet for years."

and pursuits as would tend to strengthen her judgment, calm and regulate the "THAT HAS BEEN AND WILL BE AGAIN." sensibilities, and enlarge that common sense which is the only safe foundation for all intellectual superstructure. her cough was very distressing; she had no pain, but a languor and depression

" I found Mrs. Davidson fully aware of the importance of such a course of

of spirits, foreign to her nature. She struggled against this debility, and called treatment, and disposed to pursue it ; but saw at the same time that she would up all the energies of her mind to overcome it her constant reply to inquiries have difficulty to carry it into effect, having to contend with the additional ex- about her health, by the friends who called, was the same as formerly, citement produced in the mind of this sensitive little being by the example of

her sister, and the intense enthusiasm she evinced concerning her." quite well ; mother calls me an invalid, but I feel well.' Yet to me, when alone,

THE LAST INTERVIEW. her manner that she had apprehensions as to the result. I had often endea- " Three years again elapsed before I again saw the subject of this memoir. voured to acquire firmness sufficient to tell her what was her situation; bat She was then residing with her mother at a rural retreat in the neighbourhood of she seemed so studiously to avoid the disclosure, that my resolution had New York. The interval that had elapsed had rapidly developed the powers hitherto been unequal to the task. But I was much surprised one day, not of her mind, and heightened the loveliness of her Person ; but my apprehensions long after her return from New York, by her asking me to tell her, without se- ised been verified : the soul was wearing out the body. Preparations were serve, my opinion of her state. The question wrung my very heart: I was making to take her on a tour for the benefit of her health, and her mother ap- wholly unprepared for it, and it was put in so solemn a manner that I could peered to flatter herself that it might prove efficacious ; but when I noticed the not evade it were I disposed to do so. I knew with what strong affection she fragile delicacy of her form, the hectic bloom of her cheek, and the almost un- clung to life, and the objects and friends which endeared it to her; I knew how

earthly lustre of her eye, I felt convinced that she was not long for this world; in truth she already appeared more spiritual than mortal. We parted, and I never

saw her more. Within three years afterwards, a number of manuscripts were possessed similar powers, and been snatched away at a still more placed in my hands, as all that was left of her. They were accompanied by youthful period, dying in her sixteenth year. A national interest, copious memoranda concerning her, furnished by her mother at my request. an intimate acquaintance in early life with some relatives of the From these I have digested and arranged the following particulars, adopting in many places the original manuscript without alteration. In fact, the family, a slight knowledge of the fascinating child herself, and narra- tive will be found almost as illustrative of the character of the mother as of the perhaps an unconscious feeling of sympathy with the heartbroken child : they were singularly identified in taste, feelings, and pursuits, tenderly mother, have induced WASHINGTON IRVING to prepare the remains entwined together by maternal and filial affection; they reflected an Mae- of MARGARET DAVIDSON for the press, and to compile her biogra- pressibly touching grace and interest upon each other by this holy relationship; phy, from family-papers placed at his disposal, and consisting chiefly and, to my mind, it would be marring one of the most beautiful and affecting

P Of the poems we will speak presently : but even had their hold Passing over the infancy and early childhood of the biography, upon the public mind been greater than they are likely to be, the we take MARGARET'S first efforts in rhyme,—a curious example of attraction of the biography could not rest upon the known celebrity almost instinct ; for we suspect the exercises of children in this way, of its subject, but at present must arise from its own merits, which not very rare perhaps, are tricks of imitation, with which they are are of a peculiar kind—general, yet singular. Without incident well pleased.

" A tendency to ' lisp in numbers ' was observed in her about this time [at

six years oldie She frequently made little impromptus in rhyme, without

seeming to be conscious that there was any thing peculiar in the habit. On

one occasion, while standing by a window at which her mother was seated, and And spread their fragrance all around.'

rhymed. The notice attracted to this impromptu, however, had its effect, logues between them ; always ingenious, and sometimes even brilliant. If her

doll happened to be the plaything of the moment, it was invested with a cha- racter of exhibiting knowledge of history, and all the powers of memory which

a child can be supposed to exercise. Whether it was Mary Queen of Scots, or illustrated in the heroine of her story.

sentiments, and the poetic beauty of her imagery.'

The mere characteristics of her mind and studies, not having the products of maturity to interest us in them, are, however, less at- t

" The moment, however, that she began to take daily exercise in the open air, influence of spring.' I, however, feared that her father's hopes might have blinded his judgment; and upon my own responsibility consulted a skilful phy- able as you can ; let her enjoy riding in pleasant weather, but her walks must "She was much wasted, and could hardly walk from one room to another; she talked more freely of her symptoms; and I thought I could discern from bright the world upon which she was just entering appeared to her young fancy, wbat glowing pictures she had drawn of future usefulness and happiness. I was now called upon at one blow to crush these hopes, to destroy the delightful visions which had hovered around her from her cradle until this very period: it would be cruel and wrong to deceive her : in vain I attempted a reply to her direct and solemn appeal, and my voice grew husky ; several times I essayed to speak, but the words died away on my lips; I could only fold her to my heart in silence, imprint a kiss upon her forehead, and leave the room to avoid agi- tating her with feelings I had no power to repress."

THE LAST DECISION.

" Many of our friends now were of opinion that a change of climate might benefit, perhaps restore her. Heretofore, when the suggestion had been made, she shrunk from the idea of leaving her home for a distant clime. Now her anxiety to try the effect of a change was great. 1 felt that it would be vain, although I was desirous that nothing should be left untried. Feeble as she now was, the idea of her resigning the comforts of home and being subject to the fatigues of travelling in public conveyances was a dreadful one : yet if there was a rational prospect of prolonging her life by these means, I was anxious to give them a trial. Dr. Davidson, after much deliberation on the subject, called counsel. Dr. — came, and when, after half an hour's pleasant and playful conversation with Margaret, be joined us in the parlour, oh how my poor heart trembled ! I hung upon the motions of his lips as if my own life depended on what they might utter. At length he spoke, and I felt as if an ice-bolt had passed through my heart. He had never thought, though he had known her many years, that a change of climate would benefit her. She had lived beyond his expectations many months, even years; and now he was convinced,were we to attempt to take her to a Southern climate, that she would die on the passage. Make it as pleasant as possible for her at home, was his advice. He thought that a few months must terminate her life. She knew that we had confidence in the opinion of this her favourite physician. When 1 had gained firmness enough to answer her questions, I again entered the room, and tound her com- posed, though she had evidently been strongly agitated, and had not brought her mind to hear her doom. Never, oh never to the latest hour of my life, shall I forget the look she gave me when I met her. What a heart-rending task was mine! I performed it as gently as possible. I said the Doctor thought her strength unequal to the fatigue of the journey ; that he was not so great an advocate for change of climate as many persons ; that he had known many cases in which he thought it injurious ; and his best advice was, that we should again ward off the severity of the winter by creating an atmosphere within our house. She mildly acquiesced, and the subject was dropped alto- gether. She sometimes read, and frequently, from mere habit, held a book in her band when unable to digest its contents; and within thelbook there usually rested a piece of paper, upon which she occasionally marked the reflections which arose in her mind, either in poetry or prose."

The account of her death, and the events immediately preceding it, are taken from a letter written by Mrs. DAVIDSON to Miss SEDGWICK soon after the event ; for when the current of the me- moranda approached the fatal close, " the heart of the mother," as Mr. Iowan expresses it, "gave out," and she could continue them no longer. From this letter, written at the time, we take a touching little incident, produced, probably, by some classical allu- sion she had met with.

" Her hair, which when a little child bad been often cut to improve its growth, was now very beautiful ; and she usually took much pains with It. During the whole course of her sickness I had taken care of it. One day not long before her death, she said, evidently making a great effort to speak with composure, ' Mother, if you are willing I will have my hair cut off: it is troublesome; I should like it better short.' I understood her at once—she did not- like to have the idea of death associated with those beautiful tresses which I had loved to braid ; she would have them taken off while living. I mournfully gave my consent ; and she said, ' I will not ask you, my dear mo- ther, to do it ; my friend Mrs. F.— will be with me tonight, and she will do it for me.' The dark rich locks were severed at midnight. Never shall I for- get the expression of her young faded face as I entered the room. ' Do not be agitated, dear mamma; 1 am more comfortable now. Lay it away, if you please, and tomorrow I will arrange and dispose of it. Do you know that I view my hair as something sacred ? It is a part of myself, which will be reunited to my body at the resurrection."

DEATH.

" My husband and Mrs. H. were both of them anxious that I should retire and get some rest ; but I did not feel the want of it; and, impressed as I was with the idea that this was the last night she would pass on earth, I could not go to bed. But others saw not the change, and to satisfy them I went at twelve to my room, which opened into hers. There 1 sat listening to every sound. All seemed quiet. I twice opened the door ; and Mrs. H. said she slept, and had taken her drink as often as directed, and again urged me to go to bed. A little after two I put on my night-dress, and laid down. Between three and four Mrs. H. came in haste for ether. I pointed to the bottle, and sprang up. She said, I entreat, my dear Mrs. Davidson, that you do not rise : there is no sensible change, only a turn of oppression.' She closed the door, and I hastened to rise ; when Mrs. B. came again, and said, Margaret has asked for her mother.' I flew—she held the bottle of ether in her own hand, and pointed to her breast. I poured it on her head and chest. She

revived. I am better now,' said she. Mother, you tremble ; you are cold; put on your clothes.' I stepped to the fire, and threw on a wrapper; when she stretched out both her arms, and exclaimed, Mother, take me in your arms.' I raised her, and seating myself on the bed, passed my arms round her waist : her head dropped upon my bosom, and her expressive eyes were raised to mine. That look I never shall forget ; it said, ' Tell me, mother, is this death ?' I answered the appeal as if she had spoken. I laid my hand on her white brow —a cold dew had gathered there. I spoke, Yes, my beloved, it is almost finished ; you will soon be with Jesus.' She gave one more look, two or three abort fluttering breaths, and all was over—her spirit was with its G. d; not a draggle or groan preceded her departure. Her father just came in time to wit- ness her last breath."

The Poetical Remains of MARGARET DAVIDSON have less in- terest than her Life • and what interest they possess arises from her extreme youth, her fragile health, and sometimes the circum- stances under which they were written. Those who have accus- tomed themselves to critical investigations will not be surprised at this; for, whatever it may be in arts of a merely executive kind, ex- cellence in literature can only arise from an original observation of life and nature; or long research among books, guided by worldly experience ; or from some very rare refinement of manner, (of which Visul. and GOLDSMITH are perhaps the only two examples to be readily adduced). These things cannot altogether, as Dogberry has it, " come by nature," though nature must bestow the original bent. They must be the result of much time in examination and of great labour in cultivation, and, if passion of any kind is the writer's theme, of probable suffering. The materials of a girl who died in her sixteenth year must, of necessity, belong to what may be balled the joint-stock ideas of society—points so obvious that any one can see them, or thoughts that, having been struck out by original minds, are as current as coin, and as common. Any strong distinctness of style was as little to be expected ; for, if not pro- duced by original thinking, it must be the result of an original cast of thought. In quick and graceful reproduction of sentiments, and in copious fluency of diction, the poetry of MARGARET DAVIDSON is remarkable, and may be said to be altogether wonderful: but minds as juvenile as hers have exhibited more maturity of senti- ment, and more condensation of derived ideas: indeed, her fluency seems rather instinctive than intellectual—as if it did not " cost her a thought." And, judging from this "fatal facility," we doubt whether her maturity would have realized the promise of her girl- hood.

The poems, some of which are interwoven in the life, are per- sonal, domestic, or what is called occasional, with the exception of " Leonore." This poetical tale was produced in about three months ; and had its origin in a conversation with her mother as to her capacity to do any thing great, after so many minds had already written upon so many subjects; and the introduction exhibits a curious instance of her facility in adapting to her purposes the ideas of others. The scene of the " Leonore " is laid upon the Rhine : the tale is derived from the commonplaces of melodramatic romance, with some juvenile improbabilities, added for effect. The father of Leonore has wrongfully dispossessed a youthful noble of his lands: his assistant in this nefarious scheme demands the hand of Leonore as the price of his secrecy ; and the old baron, after an agonizing struggle and vain efforts to substitute some other reward, consents. Leonore is beloved by Erstein, the unconsciously-dispossessed youth ; but sacrifices herself to save her father. At the appointed moment, however, the marriage-ceremony is interrupted by an assault upon the castle : the miscreant bridegroom is wounded by Erstein ; who carries off the bride ; and, after some other incidents, the story ends happily. The only way of giving the effect of originality to a tale of this kind, would be a deep acquaintance with the manners of the age, conjoined with a general knowledge of human nature, and such a style as the writer might have formed for himself. The two first MARGARET DAVIDSON could not have; nor was the third probable : for her treatment she is indebted to Sccrrr ; and her style is for the most part an imitation of his ballad poetry, with occasional echoes of Byrum But still, the imitation, for such a girl, is most extra- ordinary. Here is the opening description ; which may be taken as a fair specimen of her later poetical efforts.

"'Tomas nightfall on the Rhine! the day In pensive glory stole away, Flinging his last and brightest glow Full on the restless waves below, As if an angel's hand bath dyed With hues from heaven the sparkling tide! The fleeting ray an instant beam'd ; O'er hill and vale and rock it stream'd ; Till the dark time-defying cliff Seem'd glowing, melting into life ; Then, swiftly fading, glided o'er, And left it lonelier than before.

The distant hills of sombre blue, Tinged with that rich and varying hue, Now darker and more mingled grew ; The Rhine, enrobed in shadows gray, Roll'd on its giant path, Lashing the rocks which bared its way, Now curling graceful as in play, Now roaring as in wrath ! While trembling in the tinted West, The fair moon rear'd her silver crest ; And fleecy clouds, as snow-wreaths pale, Twined on her brow their graceful veil; And one by one, with tiny flame, Night's heavenly tapers softly came, And toward their mistress trembling stole, Like pleasing memories o'er the soul. And shade by shade her brilliance grew, As past away that sunset hue, Till o'er the heaving Rhine she stood, Bathing in light its sleeping flood; Pouring her full and melting ray Where rock and hill and forest lay, And where, in clust'ring trees embower'd,

An ancient castle proudly tower'd :

O'er the gray walls her glances play'd, O'er drawbridge, moat, and tower they stray'd, As striving with that holy light To pierce the works of earthly might, And cast one heavenly beam within The abode of human toil and sin."

Some extracts from her journal, and several of her letters, are interwoven with the biography ; and display more substance, dis- crimination, and maturity of mind, than her poetry. The follow- ing remarks on Mrs. lizasews exhibit a sound judgment ; though the fault noticed is the most conspicuous among her own.

" I will endeavour to answer your question about Mrs. Hemans. I have read several lives of this distinguished poetess, by different authors, and in all of them find something new to admire in her character and venerateIFher genius. She masa woman of deep feeling, lively fancy, and acute sensibilities; so acute, indeed, as to have formed her chief unhappiness through life. She mingles her own feelings with her poems so well, that in reading them you read her character. But there is one thing 1 have often remarked—the mind soon wearies in perusing many of her pieces at once. She expresses those sweat sentiments so often, and introduces the same stream of beautiful ideas so con- stantly, that they sometimes degenerate into monotony. I know of no higher treat than to read a few of her best productions, and comment upon and feel their beauties; but perusing her volume is to me like listening to a strain of sweet music repeated over and over again, until it becomes so familiar to the ear that it loses the charm of variety.

" Now, dear H., is not this presumption in me, to criticise so exquisite an author ? But you desired my opinion, and I have given it to you without reserve."