THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 MEMOIRS OF MRS. JAMESON
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY 
 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE 
 AND PARLIAMENT STREET
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 ANNA JAMESON 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'SACRED AND LEGENDARY ART' &c. 
 
 BY HER NIECE 
 
 GERARDINE MACPHERSON 
 
 So good a lady that no tongue could ever 
 Pronounce dishonour of her : by my life 
 She never knew harm-doing 
 
 King Henry VIII. 
 
 WITH A PORTRAIT 
 
 LONDON 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 1878 
 
 All rights
 
 College 
 Library 
 
 -PR 
 
 ON 
 
 A PORTRAIT OF MRS. JAMESON 
 BY HER FATHER. 
 
 In those young eyes, so keenly, bravely bent 
 To search the mysteries of the future hour, 
 There shines the will to conquer, and the pow*r 
 
 Which makes that conquest sure, a gift heaven-sent. 
 
 The radiance of the Beautiful was blent 
 
 Ev'n with thine earliest dreams ; and tow'rds that star 
 Of thy first faith, oft dimm'd, and always far, 
 
 Still hast thou journey'd on, where'er thy tent. 
 
 O, never yet in vain such pilgrimage ! 
 
 Witness the poet-souls of every age : 
 
 Long ere the Magi hail'd the prophet-beam, 
 
 Or Worship own'd an altar and a shrine, 
 
 The few who felt how real the divine, 
 
 Thus gazed, and thus imbibed th' ' etherial stream.' 
 
 A. L. NOEL BYRON (1841,. 
 
 3116703

 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IT is perhaps desirable that I should explain how it 
 is that I have been induced to gather together, from 
 materials long put aside, the following Memoir of 
 
 A 
 
 my aunt, Mrs. JAMESON, a thing which \ras not 
 thought of at the time of her death, now nearly 
 eighteen years ago, chiefly because of her own dis- 
 like to the idea of having her private life and the 
 facts connected therewith paraded before the world. 
 This repugnance on her part was naturally at the 
 moment entirely consented to by her friends, to 
 whom, in their early grief for her loss, all her wishes 
 were very sacred. As time went on, however, it 
 was impossible not to regret the want of some modest 
 record of her existence and her work, among the 
 many biographies daily issuing from the press, of 
 her contemporaries ; and the idea had often been 
 suggested to me by friends, and had arisen in my 
 own mind, to make her readers of the present 
 generation in some degree acquainted with her per- 
 sonally. There were, however, many difficulties in
 
 viii PREFACE. 
 
 the way. My aunt's life had been full of domestic 
 care, and she had not been happy in her marriage 
 a misfortune always difficult to explain, and still 
 more so when the minor facts which make incom- 
 patibility of temper insupportable have faded out of 
 recollection ; and I (the only member of her family 
 likely to undertake the work) had been so entirely 
 brought up under her shadow, that I feared my own 
 power of making any impartial portrait of her, or 
 even being able to attain to the necessary perspective 
 of a picture, in which there should exist just poise 
 and proportion of the different events and elements 
 in life. The subject was brought again, however, 
 very vividly to my mind by hearing some time ago 
 from a friend (Dr. Steele, of Rome) of an article 
 then just published in the current number of the 
 ' Edinburgh Review/ in which a very flattering allu- 
 sion was made to a paper written by my aunt in 1853 
 on the painter Hay don, and published in that peri- 
 odical. Out of the way of English periodicals as I 
 was in Rome, some little time elapsed before I saw 
 this notice, and in the meantime the surprise I had 
 frequently heard expressed that no memorial of Mrs, 
 JAMESON had ever been published, and even that 
 several interesting contributions to periodical litera- 
 ture had never been reprinted, dwelt much in my 
 mind, and prompted me to consult Mrs. JAMESON'S 
 only surviving sister, Mrs. Sherwin, my dear and
 
 PREFACE. ix 
 
 venerable aunt Camilla, as to the possibility of finding 
 material enough to give a fair account of her life, 
 and of the manner in which her mind was led to- 
 wards those fields of art in which she had always 
 been most at home, without transgressing her own 
 rule against indiscriminate publicity. Mrs. Sherwin, 
 reluctant at first, at last began to yield, like myself, 
 to the wish of thus raising a little memorial to one 
 whose kind and (to us) commanding presence had 
 taken a central place in a great part of her life, as in 
 all the early days of mine. By dint of thinking and 
 writing on this subject, we soon ventured to enter- 
 tain a hope that she might be able to furnish, and 
 I to set before the public, some such sketch of so 
 beloved an image as would make the author of the 
 1 Sacred and Legendary Art ' known to her many 
 readers. 
 
 This hope, however, was stimulated, I am 
 obliged to add for truth's sake, into much more 
 vivid desire and determination on my part to do 
 whatever it might lie in my power to do, when I 
 read some time later the Autobiography of Miss 
 Martineau, in which my aunt, as one of the mem- 
 bers of the literary society with which that lady was 
 conversant, is made the subject of various depre- 
 ciatory animadversions. I have been assured that 
 I felt these remarks much too deeply, and that all, 
 or almost all, of Harriet Martineau's friends fared
 
 x PREFACE. 
 
 just as badly at her hands, and were assailed with 
 the same unkindness. Their wrongs, however, have 
 no doubt been felt by their representatives in a 
 similar way, and some critics have in fact been 
 found, at least to protest against this system of 
 posthumous malice. Miss Martineau's depreciatory 
 remarks were, in my aunt's case, entirely contradicted 
 by the general tenor of her letters to Mrs. JAMESON, 
 very many of which are in my possession ; and in^ 
 themselves seem to me not only so unjust, but so 
 uncharacteristic, as to make doubly imperative the 
 only real contradiction that could be given to them, 
 by a true and genuine account of the person belied. 
 I state this with frankness as one of my strongest 
 motives for the work I have undertaken ; feeling 
 sure of the sympathy of all who have ever felt the 
 sting of undeserved reproach addressed to those 
 they love, or seen a name most dear and sacred to 
 them treated with careless disrespect. 
 
 For the rest, the little book will speak for itself. 
 Mrs. JAMESON'S determination not to be exposed to 
 the world in her private capacity led her to destroy 
 many of her private letters and papers. And at 
 her death her sisters were scrupulous in carrying out 
 her wishes ; while, on the other hand, long absence 
 from England and separation from her old friends 
 and old haunts have circumscribed my efforts to 
 obtain from her surviving friends many letters which 
 possibly still exist.
 
 PREFACE. xi 
 
 I must therefore ask the indulgence of the reader 
 for gaps thus most unwillingly left in the record of 
 her diligent labours. But I hope that I have been 
 able to gather enough to give some idea of the life 
 of steady work, unostentatious and unceasing, which 
 was hers from youth to age. The story of one who 
 kept a stout heart through all the troubles that befell 
 her ; who kept her unhappiness to herself, and sought 
 unceasingly to give happiness to all who belonged 
 to her ; who never used her pen to strike or to 
 wound, nor took advantage of its power to avenge 
 herself on any who wronged her ; and who was, all 
 her life long, the chief support and consolation of 
 her family must possess some interest for all good 
 people. I do not pretend to reveal personal secrets, 
 and there is, I am happy to say, no slander or even 
 gossip in anything she has left behind her nothing 
 that can sting or rankle, nothing that is unkind or 
 unjust to her friends. This volume pretends no 
 more than to show the outline of a life deprived of 
 all the stronger solaces of existence, yet sustained 
 by work and by duty, and by the love of a few 
 simple women, in its career of endless exertion ; 
 too brave for discontent, too busy for despondency, 
 and with too much to do for others to be capable of 
 egotism. Her contemporaries in general were un- 
 grudging and generous in their acknowledgment 
 of the excellence of her work and the graceful
 
 xii PREFACE. 
 
 Womanliness of her pen ; and I hope the new gene- 
 ration who still read her books upon Art, and find 
 an interest in her poetical criticisms and spontaneous 
 utterances of practical benevolence, will like tcV 
 know what the fashion of her life was, and with how 
 much courage and steadfastness she went on work- 
 ing, and not faltering, to the end of her career. 
 
 I have to thank, above all others, for information 
 and assistance, my aunt Mrs. Sherwin, Mrs. Procter, 
 and Mrs. JAMESON'S most faithful and chivalrous 
 friend Robert Noel, Esq., whose long and carefully 
 preserved correspondence with her has been of the 
 greatest importance to me in the preparation of 
 this little book. 
 
 GERARDINE MACPHERSON. 
 
 ROME : September 1877. 
 
 After this Preface was written, and when the book was nearly 
 through the press, several most interesting letters were received 
 through the kindness of the niece of Miss Sedgwick, the well-known 
 American writer, which Mrs. Macpherson made instant use of, and 
 would, without doubt, have gratefully acknowledged here. Her 
 representative can only do so thus vaguely, not knowing even the 
 lady's name.
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 THE AUTHOR of this book has not lived to see it through 
 the press ; and as there is necessarily much reference in 
 the latter part of the volume to her personal life and 
 story, for that reason, as well as for the touching fact of 
 her death while it was yet scarcely completed, it has been 
 thought right to add a*few words in memory of her. She 
 was the eldest of two children, who were the only members 
 of Mrs. Jameson's family in the second generation, and 
 was, from her birth to her marriage at eighteen, one of the 
 chief objects of her aunt's care and tenderness, as will be 
 seen from these pages. At that early age to the great 
 disappointment of Mrs. Jameson, who had hoped, with 
 that often-renewed foolishness of love which is not unusual 
 among parents, to keep her dear companion to herself for 
 years, Gerardine Bate a pretty, charming, and accom- 
 plished girl married Robert Macpherson, and settled in 
 Rome. There, many people of all classes will remember 
 the pair in their early prosperity and happiness. He was a 
 true Highlander, of good descent, the nearest male relative 
 of James Macpherson who made or translated ' Ossian * ; 
 a man of marked and headstrong character, with all the 
 qualities, both good and evil, of his race ; little likely to 
 get peaceably or easily through the world, but always 
 warm-hearted, full of kindness and good offices as long as
 
 xiv POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 they were in his power, and with much charm of manner 
 and social aptitude. His eyes failed him at an early age, 
 and being thus obliged to give up his profession as an 
 artist, a happy suggestion turned him to the art of photo- 
 graphy, then new, and seeming to possess greater possibili- 
 ties than it has ever realised. In this work he was aided 
 vigorously and successfully by his wife, and his photographs 
 were the first and finest that have ever been executed of 
 Roman scenery and antiquities. Their career was very 
 prosperous for a number of years, by means of this occu- 
 pation which he may almost be said to have invented ; and 
 some few pieces of good fortune also fell to their share 
 among others, the finding of the great picture of the 
 ' Entombment,' by Michael Angelo, which now forms one 
 of the chief ornaments of our National Gallery, and which 
 Mr. Macpherson kept for years in a sacred seclusion, 
 calling it ' Gerardine's fortune.' Necessity, however, com- 
 pelled the abandonment of this precious reserve, and the 
 picture was sold at a price below its value a price un- 
 fortunately soon swallowed up in the course of misfortunes 
 which clouded his later life. 
 
 He died nearly five years ago, in the winter of 1873, 
 leaving his wife to struggle as she could through a sad 
 entanglement of debts and distress, with two young children 
 dependent on her. She had not herself recovered from 
 a long and terrible attack of acute rheumatism, which had 
 lasted for nearly a year, when she was thus left a widow 
 and destitute. It was not in her nature to yield to dis- 
 couragement or weakness. Without a word of complaint 
 she took up a burden which might well have appalled the
 
 POSTSCRIPT. xv 
 
 strongest woman ; and the record of the years that have 
 passed since, could it be known, would be more won- 
 derful than many a story at which readers weep. She 
 dragged herself up out of her suffering, with aching limbs 
 and heart in which the seeds of disease were already sown, 
 and faced her evil fortune with the courage of a hero. 
 Whatever could be got to do she undertook, brave, ready, 
 cheerful, unhesitating : now giving lessons or readings in 
 English, now working as an amanuensis, now compiling 
 paragraphs for the newspapers, no matter what it was 
 nor ever grudging the service of the night to a sick friend 
 or neighbour, after she had toiled, from one scantily paid 
 precarious occupation to another, all the day. In the hot 
 summer, when everybody who could* escape the dangerous 
 city was out of Rome, she took, on more than one occasion, 
 the post of the correspondent of an English newspaper, 
 who could afford to find a substitute for the deadly season, 
 and worked there through the fierce suns of July and 
 August, too glad to have her children's living secured even 
 for so long. Thus she laboured on, though always sub- 
 ject to excruciating attacks of rheumatism, and to the 
 still more alarming paroxysms of gradually increasing 
 heart-disease, winding herself up for her year's work by a 
 visit, when she could manage it, to the sulphur baths of 
 Stigliano, a wild and primitive place not far from Rome ; 
 now and then nearly dying, but always struggling up and 
 to work again, always bright, even gay never less than a 
 delightful vivacious companion, an accomplished and cul- 
 tivated woman, through all her toils. Last year this book 
 was suggested to her, as she has herself explained in her
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 preface, and arrangements were made by which it was 
 possible for her to come ' home,' and collect the materials 
 necessary for it. Here she spent a little more than three 
 months, suffering much, and alarming her friends by symp- 
 toms more severe than they had been aware of, but herself 
 expressing no despondency nor fear ; and, strong in her in- 
 domitable courage, went back again in the beginning of July 
 to Rome, in order that she might not lose her two months' 
 work as deputy-correspondent. During the winter this 
 volume was written, amid many other toils and cares. Lately 
 her sufferings had increased in intensity, and she looked 
 forward with all the eagerness of feverish hope to the fetid 
 sulphuric atmosphere and boiling baths of Stigliano, the 
 only thing which did her rheumatism good. On May 12 she 
 went there, in the country diligence, over the hilly roads, a 
 way of travelling very badly suited to her suffering condition. 
 But by this time her heart-disease was too far advanced 
 to make that desperate remedy possible. She was sent back 
 in a few days ' in an alarming state,' her friends wrote ; 
 and within a week, on the 24th, died ; keeping her stout 
 heart to the end, writing reassuring letters from her death- 
 bed, talking of 'wearing her eye in a sling' neuralgia 
 having seized it, in addition to everything else and keep- 
 ing up the hearts of those who loved her by this faint 
 Qcho of pathetic laughter, the cheerful humour that never 
 deserted her, to the end. 
 
 It may be added that the references to herself which 
 occur in this book, and which seem to make this record 
 needful, were put in against her will, in deference to the 
 strongly expressed wishes of a friend, who did not think
 
 POSTSCRIPT. xvii 
 
 it right to conceal a very attaching and loveable aspect of 
 Mrs. Jameson's character because of the modesty of her 
 biographer. The only uneasy feeling she had about her 
 
 book concerned this. Only a few weeks ago she wrote of 
 the passage in which she herself principally figures as 
 being ' out of heart with the last proofs.' ' I feel as if I 
 would so much prefer to be nowhere.' 
 
 But now there is no modesty of personal reserve to be 
 
 offended, and what is true may be said, with an infinite 
 
 sad satisfaction in the warfare over, though with tears for 
 
 the woman dead. 
 
 Mrs. Macpherson has left behind her, besides two elder 
 
 sons who are capable of caring for themselves, a girl and 
 
 a boy, still young and helpless, to the guardianship of 
 
 God, her sister, and her friends. 
 
 It seems almost impertinent to obtrude another name 
 into this brief and melancholy record ; but I am asked to 
 say that the final superintendence of the publication of 
 this book, which I have watched and aided as I could 
 during all its course, for the sake of old friendship, and the 
 profound sympathy and affection I had for its author, has 
 been left in my hands. So that if there is any word too 
 much, any explanation too little, the fault is not hers, but 
 mine. 
 
 M. O. W. OLIPHANT.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. CHILDHOOD ... i 
 
 II. YOUTH .... .24 
 
 III. AFTER MARRIAGE . ... 46 
 
 IV. MIDDLE LIFE -85 
 
 V. AMERICA . . . . .m 
 
 VI. 'I HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH' . '. .141 
 
 VII. FRIENDS . . .184 
 
 VIII. LABORIOUS YEARS .... .210 
 
 IX. TRAVELS AND STUDIES ... .237 
 
 X. LATER LIFE ... 265 
 
 XL HER LAST DAYS ... .295 
 
 APPENDIX 3 1 . 1 )
 
 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 ANNA BROWNELL MURPHY, the eldest daughter of a 
 young miniature painter of considerable talent and 
 popularity, was born in the year 1794, in Dublin, in 
 the midst of all the commotions of one of the most 
 stormy periods of modern history. Her father, at 
 a time when youth everywhere was revolutionary, 
 when the wonderful events in France had stimulated 
 political agitation even where there was less reason 
 for it than in Ireland, had followed the fashion of 
 his day, and was a patriot, and an adherent of the 
 1 United Irishmen ' whose tragical attempts at revo- 
 lution came to so summary an end. Fortunately, 
 however, before the explosion came, the young artist, 
 whose position and peaceful profession and circum- 
 stances were little in accordance with so wild an 
 enterprise, was called to England by professional 
 engagements, and thus escaped, by no wisdom of his 
 
 B
 
 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 own, from the network of conspiracy and betrayal in 
 which Emmett, Lord Edward Fitzgerald, and the 
 other leaders of the rebellion, were hurried to 
 destruction. Brownell Murphy had an English wife, 
 and already three small daughters, hostages to for- 
 tune, that might well have kept a young head of a 
 family out of mischief though even such guarantees 
 were not perhaps certain in the case of an Irishman. 
 In 1798, however, before the last struggle began, he 
 came over to Whitehaven with his wife and their 
 eldest child, the little Anna, and thenceforward his 
 life and that of his family was spent in more peaceful 
 regions, and fighting and bloodshed became out of 
 the question, although his warmest sympathies and 
 interest were with the unfortunate members of the 
 revolutionary party, several of whom were his per- 
 sonal friends. 
 
 What the inducements were which led to this 
 removal I cannot tell, but it determined all the after 
 life of the family. The two younger children were 
 left behind at nurse near Dublin, and only the little 
 Anna accompanied her parents to the small Cumber- 
 land seaport, a place that must have seemed a dreary 
 change from the Irish metropolis, then more of a 
 capital city, and of much greater importance in itself 
 than now. Few records of this early period have 
 been preserved. The young artist and his wife 
 remained for four years in Cumberland, where a
 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 fourth little daughter, Camilla, now the venerable and 
 last representative of the band of sisters, was born. 
 
 One little anecdote only do I find of Anna 
 Murphy in this first chapter of her existence. 
 Among the earliest acquaintances made by the 
 strangers in Cumberland was a family of the name of 
 Booth, one of the members of which, so long after 
 as in the year 1853, half a century later than the 
 incident he records, and when the friends had almost 
 forgotten each other, sent to the then famous writer, 
 Mrs. Jameson, a miniature of her mother painted by 
 her father, which had come into the possession of his 
 family, and which became the occasion of a renewal 
 of intercourse. The little girl remembered as an 
 interesting child, after having been so long lost sight 
 of, had been thus brought back to her old acquaint- 
 ances by her literary reputation. The letter of this 
 gentleman alludes to an incident which no doubt had 
 amused the friendly circle at the time, and which the 
 subject of it recollected clearly enough when it was 
 brought to her mind. 
 
 There is a remote period in every one's life (writes this 
 gentleman) that answers in some sort to the half-fabulous 
 period of remote history to that far-off time belongs all I 
 know of your visits to Mr. Booth ; it is little more than a 
 vague impression received through others of the great regard 
 and interest your friends and yourself had excited. You 
 were spoken of as having thoughts beyond your years, and 
 as very ready to ask all sorts of questions that nobody 
 
 B 2
 
 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 could answer. You were a somnambulist too ; on one 
 occasion you alarmed the house by wandering away no one 
 knew whither, and after a long and anxious search they 
 found you sleeping in an old piece of furniture. 
 
 The piece of furniture in question was an anti- 
 quated clock-case, and the child had not gone thither 
 in a state of somnambulism, as her friend supposed, 
 but had fled instinctively to a favourite play-place 
 for shelter, during a fit of childish panic. The 
 bedroom in which she slept beside her mother and 
 the baby sister born at Whitehaven having taken 
 fire in the night, Anna fled to her usual hiding-place, 
 and there, child-like, fell asleep in a fancied sense 
 of security. 
 
 Speaking of her own childhood in one of her 
 latest publications, Mrs. Jameson alludes to the 
 suffering she long experienced from her exceeding 
 timidity during the night hours, but does not hint at 
 anything like somnambulism. In the absence of 
 other records we must go to her own statements for 
 an account of the influences that chiefly swayed her 
 child life. She tells us that 
 
 In memory I can go back to a very early age. I per- 
 fectly remember being sung to sleep, and can remember 
 even the tune which was sung to me blessings on the 
 voice that sang it ! I was an affectionate, but not, as I 
 now think, a loveable or an attractive child. I did not, 
 like the little Mozart, ask of every one around me, ' Do 
 you love me ? ' The instinctive question was rather, ' Can
 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 I love you ? ' With a good temper there was the capacity 
 of strong, deep, silent resentment, and a vindictive spirit of 
 rather a peculiar kind. I recollect that when one of those 
 set over me 1 inflicted what then appeared a most horrible 
 injury and injustice, the thoughts of vengeance haunted my 
 fancy for months ; but it was an inverted sort of vengeance. 
 I imagined the house of my enemy on fire, and rushed 
 through the flames to rescue her. She was drowning, and 
 I leaped into the deep water to draw her forth. She was 
 pining in prison, and I forced bars and bolts to deliver her. 
 If this were magnanimity, it was not the less vengeance, for 
 observe, I always fancied evil and shame and humiliation 
 to my adversary, to myself the role of superiority and 
 gratified pride. 
 
 There was in my childish mind another cause of suffer- 
 ing besides those I have mentioned ; less acute, but more 
 permanent, and always unacknowledged. It was fear ; fear 
 of darkness and supernatural influences. As long as I can 
 remember anything, I remember these horrors of my in- 
 fancy. How they had been awakened I do not know ; they 
 were never revealed. I had heard other children ridiculed 
 for such fears, and held my peace. At first these haunting, 
 thrilling, stifling terrors were vague ; afterwards the form 
 varied ; but one of the most permanent was the Ghost in 
 1 Hamlet' 2 There was a volume of Shakespeare lying about, 
 in which was an engraving I have not seen since, but it 
 remains distinct in my mind as a picture. On one side 
 stood Hamlet with his hair on end, literally 'like quills 
 upon the fretful porcupine/ and one hand with all the fingers 
 outspread. On the other strode the Ghost, encased in 
 
 1 Her governess. 
 
 a In the memoir of Sara Coleridge, published in 1873, occurs, at 
 page 25, a description of similar terrors experienced in childhood by 
 her mother, including the special apparition of the Ghost in ' Hamlet.'
 
 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 armour with nodding plumes ; one ringer pointing for- 
 wards, and all surrounded with a supernatural light. Oh 
 that spectre ! for three years it followed me up and down 
 the dark staircase, or stood by my bed ; only the blessed 
 light had power to exorcise it. How it was that I knew, 
 while I trembled and quaked, that it was unreal ; never 
 cried out ; never expostulated ; never confessed I do not 
 know. 
 
 In daylight I was not only fearless, but audacious, 
 inclined to defy all power and brave all danger that is, all 
 danger I could see. I remember volunteering to lead the 
 way through a herd of cattle (among which was a dan- 
 gerous bull, the terror of the neighbourhood), armed only 
 with a little stick ; but first I said the Lord's prayer fer- 
 vently. In the ghastly night I never prayed. These 
 visionary sufferings in some form or another pursued me 
 till I was nearly twelve years old. 
 
 In 1802 the family made another change, going 
 this time to the more important town of Newcastle- 
 on-Tyne. Here it would seem the young painter's 
 prospects became more assured, for the little girls 
 who had been left in Ireland were sent for, and the 
 family reunited. These children, still very young, 
 came from Dublin in the charge of a young lady 
 who was for some years to undertake their educa- 
 tion, and who was Anna's first instructress. They 
 settled down in a modest set of rooms over the shop 
 of the chief bookseller of the place, a Mr. Miller, 
 who afterwards came to London, and, setting up as 
 publisher in Albemarle Street, was the immediate 
 precursor of the famous John Murray himself.
 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Mr. Murphy soon became known and esteemed in 
 this new home, and acquired many friends. At the 
 same time his growing reputation called him fre- 
 quently away from his house for weeks together on 
 professional visits to his patrons, sometimes, as will 
 be seen, accompanied by his wife. He invariably 
 returned from these expeditions with portfolios full 
 of sketches from nature, done at leisure moments 
 for his own special delight and pleasure, several of 
 which, still in the possession of his family, show great 
 talent, though this was not the branch of art in which 
 he was known. During these interregnums, how- 
 ever, all did not invariably go well with the four 
 little girls and their young governess, a very accom- 
 plished and clever, but not, it would seem at least, 
 in the opinion of her small charges a very lenient 
 or considerate ruler. She was the daughter of one 
 of the Duke of Leinster's secretaries. Her mother, 
 a Frenchwoman, had educated the Ladies Fitz- 
 gerald, and had been permitted to bring up her own 
 child conjointly with her noble pupils. Careful and 
 conscientious even to a fault, Miss Yokely proved 
 an efficient if over-strict teacher ; and she had the 
 entire control of Anna's mental instruction for four 
 years. She obtained the respect and obedience that 
 she rigorously exacted, and laid the foundations of 
 firm principles and exact memory ; but she never 
 won the child's affection. The recollection of her
 
 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 instructions excited a certain feeling of gratitude 
 later on in life, when the benefit of always remem- 
 bering correctly what she had read had become a 
 source of profit and of pleasure to her former pupil ; 
 but with the peculiarities of disposition regarding 
 which Mrs. Jameson has herself spoken so openly, 
 it is scarcely strange that no strong tie of love arose 
 between them during those important years of a 
 child's life, from the age of eight to twelve. Mrs. 
 Jameson says herself: ' I had a very strict and very 
 accomplished governess, one of the cleverest women 
 I have ever met with in my life ; but nothing of 
 this ' (alluding here to her propensity to reverie and 
 an inner life) ' was known or even suspected by her, 
 and I exulted in possessing something which her 
 power could not reach.' 
 
 Thus, with the parents often out of reach and 
 the sway of their representative not much beloved 
 by her little subjects, domestic incidents of a thrill- 
 ing character were apt to happen. Here is one 
 which remains dimly in its confusion of baby ex- 
 citement, discomfiture, daring, and distress in the 
 mind of the last survivor. By age alike and by 
 nature, Anna was the leader of the little troop of 
 girls, and evidently exercised her power with the 
 charming absoluteness of unquestioned and bene- 
 ficent despotism. They had all gone with their 
 governess to a village called Kenton, during one of
 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 the absences of their father and mother in Scotland, 
 probably for the benefit of the country air. But 
 Miss Yokely in her turn accepted an invitation to 
 visit friends, and the little girls were left alone for 
 two or three days under the charge of the people of 
 the house in which they lived. These temporary 
 guardians interfered to prevent some delightful com- 
 position of mud-pies on which the younger children 
 had set their hearts, and the wail that followed the 
 prohibition came to the ears of the elder sister a 
 visionary princess of less than nine summers who, 
 fired by the wrongs of the babies, and probably urged 
 on by some private injuries of her own, and a longing 
 for the softer sway of the mother whom all their lives 
 the sisters idolised, immediately conceived a plan of 
 escape. To Anna, as to most other imaginative 
 children, life was tout simple ; she had not a moment's 
 hesitation in proposing the easy plan that would set 
 all right. It was clear that the tyranny of a landlady 
 was not to be endured. With what flutterings of 
 heart must the bold project have been listened to ! 
 But what Anna said was sacred to the little sisters, 
 and not to be contested. She unfolded her plan, 
 after binding them all to secrecy, and the four small 
 conspirators drew close together in breathless awe 
 and excitement. This plan what could be more 
 natural and easy ? was, that they should all start 
 instantly, that very evening, to join their father and
 
 io ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 mother in Scotland. It would be the easiest thing 
 
 o 
 
 in the world, if once they could get away safely. 
 They must be sure and eat all the bread and butter 
 they possibly could at tea, and stow away in the 
 front and pockets of their frocks whatever amount of 
 slices could be secretly abstracted from the plates ; 
 then, each provided with a tiny bundle containing a 
 change for Sunday (it chanced to be Saturday, and 
 the clean things had just come from the wash and 
 were not yet put away, and it did not occur, even 
 to the head conspirator, that the change might be 
 made before they went with less inconvenience), 
 they would start on their journey. As the eldest 
 and strongest, Anna charged her own shoulders with 
 the weight of a many-caped gig-cloak (presumably a 
 garment of the period) belonging to their governess, 
 under cover of which they could, she said, all sleep 
 at nights under the hedges ; and as for food, when 
 their own slices of bread gave out, they need only 
 knock at some cottage door on their way, and say 
 they were four little children going to Scotland to 
 find their father and mother, and no one would re- 
 fuse them a drink of milk and a crust, Anna was 
 quite sure. 
 
 All went as smoothly as possible, no suspicions 
 were roused, and the little girls stole softly from the 
 house, the nine-year-old leader, with her heavier 
 burden, encouraging the others till their faltering
 
 CHILDHOOD. ii 
 
 footsteps broke into a run, and they thus hurried, 
 one after another, down the village street. But the 
 unusual appearance of the party soon attracted atten- 
 tion, and first one and then another ' wondered ' to 
 see ' the little Murphys running off by themselves.' 
 Some gossip more energetic than the rest took it 
 upon herself to give the alarm ; and, greatly to Anna's 
 chagrin and disappointment, they were pursued and 
 captured before meeting with a single adventure, 
 save that one of the little bundles fell into a ditch, 
 and when fished out again by herculean efforts, one 
 of Camilla's little red shoes proved, alas ! to have 
 been lost for ever. 
 
 In 1803 tne family came to London, where, or in 
 the immediate neighbourhood of which, their per- 
 manent home was henceforward to be. Their first 
 resting-place was at Hanwell, one of the prettiest 
 spots on that side of London, where a few soft slopes 
 diversify the flatness of the rich green country and 
 give a gentle picturesqueness to the smooth .fields and 
 luxuriant trees. The district must have remained dear 
 to their fancy, for at a later period we find the last 
 members of the family returning to its vicinity and 
 taking up their abode in Ealing. There the governess 
 who had ruled so strictly and conscientiously, yet 
 with so little love, left her little pupils, and by a 
 curious transformation became their aunt, having 
 married Mr. Murphy's brother. In the year 1806 or
 
 12 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 thereabout, they transferred their residence to town, 
 establishing themselves in the busy region of Pall 
 Mall. Here Anna's education progressed, chiefly 
 at her own will and pleasure, with an extensive 
 breadth and desultory character as conspicuous as 
 its ambition. Those were not the days of examina- 
 tions, nor had it seemed to girls as yet expedient or 
 necessary to fit themselves for the same classic tests 
 as have been always considered indispensable to 
 young men. Anna's lively mind and superabundant 
 energy procured for her a simpler but perhaps more 
 characteristic training. She worked hard, but fit- 
 fully, at French, Italian, and even Spanish, uncon- 
 sciously preparing the way for her future labours. 
 A more whimsical part of her studies was that 
 which led her to take the most intense interest in 
 the works' of Sir William Jones which were then 
 appearing, and which disclosed to many English 
 readers for the first time the romances of India and 
 Persia, the oldest tales of the world. Anna Murphy 
 was seized with a craze for this new and entrancing 
 revelation of antique lore and literature. It is re- 
 lated by her one surviving sister, that she had a 
 map of India hung in the sleeping-room they occu- 
 pied together, and that it was a favourite fancy of 
 hers to keep the other little girls in active exercise 
 tracing different routes from town to town across 
 this map, while she herself travelled in imagination
 
 CHILDHOOD. 13 
 
 along the eastern roads which these dutiful little 
 pioneers opened up for their enterprising leader. 
 While the others thus worked out her ideal itine- 
 rary, she read aloud to the admiring group the 
 passages in the book which described the different 
 points of the journey. These travels of fancy, how- 
 ever, did not exhaust her enthusiasm. The small 
 woman of genius, carried away by her fertile fancy 
 and fervid nature, rushed incontinently into com- 
 position. She began to write a story on Eastern 
 subjects which she called ' Faizy/ a story which 
 immediately became the absorbing interest of the 
 nursery. The little audience put their golden heads 
 together with an earnest faith, such as elder readers 
 never quite attain to, over the instalments of this 
 wondrous tale which the author condescendingly 
 read to them as it went on ; and we may easily 
 suppose what an unfailing source of interest was 
 this family romance, the father and mother being 
 apparently admitted to a share in the gratification it 
 afforded. 
 
 I may add certain further details drawn from her 
 own recollections of her childhood, which show the 
 fanciful girl better than anything that could be 
 written by another hand : 
 
 In regard to truth always such a difficulty in educa- 
 tion I certainly had, as a child, and like most children, 
 confused ideas about it. I had a more distinct and ab-
 
 i 4 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 solute idea of honour than of truth a mistake into which 
 our conventional morality leads those who educate and are 
 educated. I knew very well, in a general way, that to tell 
 a lie was wicked '; to lie for my own profit or pleasure, or to 
 the hurt of others, was, according to my infant code of 
 morals, worse than wicked, it was dishonourable. But I 
 had no compunction about telling fictions, inventing scenes 
 and circumstances which I related as real, and with a keen 
 sense of triumphant enjoyment in seeing the listener taken 
 in by such an ingenious concatenation of possibilities. In 
 this respect ' Ferdinand Mendez Pinto, that liar of the first 
 magnitude,' was nothing in comparison to me. I must 
 have been twelve years old before my conscience was first 
 awakened to the necessity of truth as a principle, as well as 
 its holiness as a virtue. Afterwards, having to set right the 
 minds of others cleared my own mind on this and some 
 other important points. 
 
 About religion : I was taught religion as children used 
 to be taught it in my younger days, and are taught it still 
 in some cases, I believe through the medium of creeds and 
 catechisms. I read the Bible too early, and too indiscri- 
 minately, and too irreverently. Even the New Testament 
 was too early placed in my hands, too early made a lesson- 
 book, as the custom then was. The letter of the Scriptures, 
 the words, were familiarised to me by sermonising and dog- 
 matising long before I could enter into the spirit. Mean- 
 time, happily, another religion was growing up in my heart 
 which, strangely enough, seemed to me quite apart from 
 that which was taught ; which, indeed, I never in any way 
 regarded as the same which I was taught when I stood up 
 wearily on a Sunday to repeat the collect and say the 
 catechism. It was quite another thing. Not only the 
 taught religion and the sentiment of faith and adoration 
 were never combined, but it never for years entered into
 
 CHILDHOOD. 15 
 
 my mind to combine them ; the first remained extraneous, 
 the latter had gradually taken root in my life even from the 
 moment my mother joined my little hands in prayer. The 
 histories out of the Bible (the Parables especially) were, 
 however, enchanting to me, though my interpretation of 
 them was in some instances the very reverse of correct or 
 orthodox. To my infant conception our Lord was a being 
 who had come down from heaven to make people good, 
 and to tell them beautiful stories. And though no pains 
 were spared to indoctrinate me, and all my pastors and 
 masters took it for granted that my ideas were quite satis- 
 factory, nothing could be more confused and heterodox. 
 Educators are not always aware, I think, how acute are the 
 perceptions, and how permanent the memories, of children. 
 I remember experiments tried upon my temper and feelings, 
 and how I was made aware of this by their being repeated, 
 and in some instances spoken of, before me. Music, to 
 which I was early and peculiarly sensitive, was sometimes 
 made the medium of these experiments. Discordant sounds 
 were not only hateful, but made me turn white and cold, 
 and sent the blood backward to my heart ; and certain 
 tunes had a curious effect they became intolerable by 
 repetition, they turned up some hidden emotion within me 
 too strong to be borne. It could not have been from as- 
 sociation, which I believe to be a principal element in the 
 emotion excited by music. I was too young for that. 
 What associations could such a baby have had with plea- 
 sure or pain ? Or could it be possible that associations 
 with some former state of existence awoke up into sound ? 
 That our life 'hath elsewhere its beginning and cometh 
 from afar,' is a belief, or at least an instinct, in some minds, 
 which music, and only music, seems to thrill into conscious- 
 ness. At this time, when I was about five or six years old, 
 Mrs. Arkwright she was then Fanny Kemble used to
 
 1 6 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 come to our house, and used to entrance me with her sing- 
 ing. I had a sort of adoration for her, such as an ecstatic 
 votary might have for a Saint Cecilia. I trembled with 
 pleasure when I only heard her step. But her voice it 
 has charmed hundreds since ; whom has it ever moved to 
 a more genuine passion of delight than the little child that 
 crept silent and tremulous to her side ? And she was fond 
 of me, fond of singing to me, and, it must be confessed, 
 fond also of playing these experiments upon me. The 
 music of ' Paul and Virginia ' was then in vogue, and there 
 was one air a very simple air in that opera, which, after 
 the first few bars, always made me stop my ears and rush 
 out of the room. I became at last aware that this was 
 sometimes done by particular desire to please my parents, 
 or to amuse and interest others by the display of such 
 vehement emotion. 
 
 In addition to these reminiscences, various legends 
 of this fabulous age remain yet in the recollection 
 of the survivor, to whom at eighty the memory of 
 all the doings of the little sisterhood is still so clear. 
 Anna was, as we have said, the leader in all the 
 children did. She it was who settled how long a 
 time was necessary for the learning of the lessons, a 
 process very easy to herself, which, with delightful 
 childish inconsequence, she decided must be equally 
 easy for her sisters. What could they possibly want 
 with longer time ? At the word of command from 
 the little despot the obedient and admiring, if some- 
 times rueful students put away their books and pro- 
 ceeded to the romps which she personally conducted.
 
 CHILDHOOD. 17 
 
 But tradition does not say whether Anna bore the 
 penalty when Louisa's or Camilla's little lessons were 
 insufficiently conned, as ought to have been the case 
 in strict justice. That they were all, however, loyally 
 faithful to her and devout in their belief in the elder 
 sister, whose high spirit and boundless imagination 
 inspired the little band, is very evident ; and they 
 seem never to have murmured against the scrapes 
 she led them into. ' Faizy ' got itself finished sooner 
 or later, though tradition does not say when ; and 
 the story, chiefly written at twelve years old, was 
 afterwards retouched and published at a later date 
 when the young author had become known. 1 This 
 precocious study of the visionary East brought the 
 little sketch and its writer under the observation 
 of a not un notable person in his day, Mr. James 
 Forbes, the author of the ' Oriental Memoirs,' and 
 commonly known at that time as ' Oriental Forbes,' 
 but now chiefly remarkable as being the grandfather 
 and earliest instructor of Count Charles de Monta- 
 lembert. 
 
 The story of ' Faizy ' was not, however, the earliest 
 symptom of the literary faculty in the little Anna's 
 life. In looking over the yellow and faded leaves 
 of a packet of old letters, there were found by chance 
 inscribed in large unsteady childish handwriting 
 
 1 In the collection known as ' Visits and Sketches at Home and 
 Abroad.' 1834.
 
 1 8 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 across the back of a letter written by no less fair a 
 hand than that of the beautiful Georgiana, Duchess 
 of Devonshire, and conveying an order to the house- 
 keeper at Chiswick to admit Mr. Murphy to see and 
 copy some of the pictures there some verses em- 
 bodying the most patriotic sentiments ; heroic lines 
 which show more spirit than grammar perhaps, and 
 which we are tempted to print as her earliest sur- 
 viving utterance. The reader could not but smile 
 kindly upon this vague and grandiloquent effusion 
 of childish hero-worship, could he see the evident 
 effort made by those small fingers to write plainly 
 and clearly as became the distinguished subject. It 
 bears date 1805 : 
 
 With Fame and Victory following in his train, 
 COLLINGWOOD veiws l his native land again ! 
 To songs of praise each joyous harp is strung, 
 And happiness resounds from every tongue. 
 E'en I, unskilled in poesy's magic art, 
 Will sing brave Collingwood's exalted part ; 
 For the first time to him will tune my lyre, 
 While NELSON shall my humble verse inspire. 
 Now raised alike in glory and in name 
 Britain shall boast another son of Fame, 
 Who, born each honour from Napoleon's head 
 To snatch, and deck the galiant Nelson dead, 
 As yet another champion bold shall rise 
 And as a hero, claim the exalted skies : 
 While Victory loud proclaims, though Nelson 's slain 
 Still Britain reigns o'er Neptune's boisterous main. 
 
 1 The mistaken spelling of the childish MS. is retained.
 
 CHILDHOOD. 19 
 
 Though first in honour and though first in place, 
 Though first in favour and though first in grace, 
 Though Fame shall weave fresh laurels for his head, 
 Yet still he mourns victorious Nelson dead. 
 But rise ! nor yield to unavailing greif ; 
 Though yet we mourn the dear departed chcif ; 
 'Tis you must snatch from a usurper's hand 
 Those rights which Freedom gave to every land. 
 Our second hero every danger braves, 
 And conquering Britain dares the bellowing waves, 
 Blesses the place where Collingwood drew breath, 
 But mourns the hour when Nelson sunk in death. 
 
 The other recollections of this early life all carry 
 out the same impression of high spirit and active in- 
 telligence. Camilla remembers still how Anna, with 
 her head erect and her blue eyes gleaming, would 
 declaim the well-known verses 
 
 Thy spirit, Independence, let me share, 
 Lord of the lion heart and eagle eye ; 
 
 Thy steps I'll follow with my bosom bare, 
 
 Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky 
 
 till the other feebler voices of the nursery party had 
 learned to lisp them after her, a little awed and 
 wondering at their own heroism. It is evident that 
 this love of independence was no mockery in the case 
 of Anna. And here I may bring in another simple 
 home legend of this period which shows how she car- 
 ried out, or would fain have carried out, her principles. 
 It is scarcely necessary to say that the artist's family, 
 dependent as it was upon the fruits of his delightful
 
 20 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 but precarious profession, had its ups and downs 
 like others ; and no doubt when the struggling pair 
 ventured to bring their little children to London, 
 and set themselves up in such an expensive region' 
 as that of Pall Mall, there would be many thoughts 
 and talks about economy, and consultations between 
 the father and mother not unaccompanied by la- 
 mentations over those ever multiplying household 
 expenses which oppress poor gentlefolks, and the dear- 
 ness of everything, a subject of complaint which seems 
 to increase year by year. Perhaps, some evening, 
 Anna, being the eldest and sitting up a little longer 
 than the rest, had listened unnoticed to one of these 
 anxious talks ; and, intent as she was on ' following 
 with her bosom bare ' whithersoever the noble spirit 
 of Independence might lead her, had been fired by 
 an instant and heroic resolution. . Where she may 
 have heard of the lace-making of Flanders we are 
 not told ; probably an account in some encyclopaedia 
 or periodical of the time had caught her eager imagi- 
 nation and suggested the idea. However that may 
 be, she gathered her sisters together on the first 
 occasion possible, and pointed out to them, with all 
 the eloquence of a popular leader, sure of the faith of 
 his disciples, the necessities of the position. Their 
 father and mother were, she said, anxious about the 
 family means, and striving hard to make ends meet ; 
 while here were four girls, from twelve downwards,
 
 CHILDHOOD. 21 
 
 eating the bread of idleness. By this time another 
 baby had been added to the band, a tiny Charlotte 
 in her cradle, too young by far to have any heroic 
 plan suggested to her. Such a plan, however, Anna 
 had all ready to lay before the others. It was that 
 she and her sisters should set out for Brussels, learn 
 the art of lace-making, work at it at once successfully, 
 and achieve in the shortest possible time a fortune 
 with which to set their parents perfectly at ease for 
 the future. Once more the proceeding was toiit 
 simple. She had it all quite clear and easy as 
 on that earlier occasion. The plan now would be 
 to take their course straight along by the banks of 
 the Paddington Canal as far as it went, then enquire 
 which was the nearest road to the coast, and there 
 take ship for Belgium. There was not, however, 
 that unanimity in the council which generally pre- 
 vailed. Eliza, the next daughter, declared directly 
 that she for one could not be spared ; that the 
 mother and the baby could not get on without her, 
 and that she must stay behind. But the others em- 
 braced the plan, though somewhat tremulous was 
 the adhesion of little Camilla she whose red shoe 
 had perished in the previous adventure. The pro- 
 ject was fully matured and even communicated to 
 the parents, who seem prudently to have made no 
 effort to restrain the children's enthusiasm, but per- 
 mitted everything to go on as suggested. Their
 
 22 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 bags were packed, and the last evening came. 
 Camilla, timid and always wavering, would willingly 
 have renounced her share in the glorious enterprise ; 
 but Anna was eager, and Louisa firm. In this 
 mingled state of feeling the little adventurers put on 
 their evening frocks and their pretty ribbons, and 
 came downstairs to dessert for what was to be the 
 last time. It is easy to imagine the gleam of half 
 fun, half sympathy, that shone in the father's eye as 
 he drew the children about him. Louisa, supposed 
 in the family to be his favourite, had some wine put 
 into her glass. It was a sort of farewell pledge at 
 their parting, ' for there's no telling when we may 
 be together again, my darling,' he said. This, how- 
 ever, was too much for the child, whose heart sank 
 into her shoes at such an address, and whose in- 
 spiration was all Anna's, not her own. She gave a 
 loud sob and threw her arms round her father's 
 neck : ' Oh, papa ! I will never, never leave you,' 
 she cried. The crisis was too much for a child's 
 courage; Camilla, already so feeble in her adhesion, 
 gave in on the spot ; and it is needless to say that 
 Anna, left alone in her valour, did not go forth upon 
 this forlorn hope by herself. The story is very 
 characteristic, and I hope the reader will find it as 
 pretty as I do. How her heart must have swelled 
 with despair at the weakness of the others, yet 
 owned a throb of relief to be saved the parting that
 
 CHILDHOOD. 23 
 
 parting, the bitterness of which can only be under- 
 stood when it comes near! It was only for a while, 
 however, that she relinquished her purpose of aiding 
 her parents. Brussels on foot, and the hazards of 
 the lace-making, dropped into impossibility to be 
 sure, as the child sprang, delicate yet strong and 
 ever courageous, into early womanhood with all its 
 developments. At sixteen, the little maiden no 
 doubt had learned that some things which looked 
 very easy at twelve had become impracticable ; but 
 the generous determination to help, the high-spirited 
 love of independence that prompted the childish 
 plan, was nowise diminished ; nor was her resolution 
 less fine because it had to follow a more hackneyed 
 way of working. At that early age she undertook the 
 situation of a governess. Her father, if he had not 
 accumulated much wealth, had acquired many noble 
 friends and patrons, and was popular among them, 
 and great names had been familiar in the artist's 
 house as long as the children could recollect. It 
 was accordingly in a noble household that of the 
 Marquis of Winchester that his daughter began 
 her career. This must have been some time in the 
 year 1810, and she remained in the same household 
 for about four years. Thus ' Independence,' which 
 had lured her with ' lion heart and eagle eye,' was 
 at length followed at sixteen, though so many years 
 later than she had dreamed and desired.
 
 24 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 YOUTH. 
 
 OF the period of Anna Murphy's youth there are but 
 few records. The unfinished miniature painted by 
 her father, from which the frontispiece to this volume 
 is taken, shows to what early maturity the artist's 
 eldest daughter, the young generalissimo, of the 
 pretty band of sisters, had grown. She was sixteen 
 when it was painted ; the pride and admiration of 
 the household ; just about to set out upon the career 
 of independence which she had so long desired, and 
 to carry into practice the high-flown theories which 
 had inspired her childhood. Otherwise it would not 
 appear that there had been at that time any urgent 
 need, such as existed at a later date, for her experi- 
 ments in the art of teaching, which seem to have 
 occurred intermittently, and with many irregular 
 intervals, through the period of youth. Some kind of 
 absence, yet near vicinity, seems to be inferred in the 
 following pretty fatherly note of congratulation on a 
 birthday, which I find lying without date, addressed 
 to ' Miss Murphy,' among a number of unimportant 
 papers :
 
 YOUTH. 25 
 
 MY DEAREST ANNA, 
 
 We have no distinction to offer you nor enter- 
 tainment on your birthday but your good mother and I 
 on rising this morning congratulated each other on having 
 such an affectionate and good and well-disposed and ac- 
 complished daughter receive our blessing. If you are out 
 to-day call and see your mother. 
 
 Ever yours, 
 
 D. B. M. 
 
 I am not aware, however, that Miss Murphy was 
 in any situation as governess, except the early one 
 above referred to, until that which formed the actual 
 though unintentional beginning of her literary career. 
 In the winter of the year 1820-21, an old 
 north-country friend, Mr. John Harden, of Brathy 
 Hall, introduced to Mr. Murphy and his family a 
 young barrister named Robert Jameson, who was a 
 native of the lake country and a prottgd and wor- 
 shipper of the poet, who had made that district 
 famous. He had come to London to enter seriously 
 upon the business of his profession, and was in all 
 the bloom of life and enthusiasm, of agreeable looks, 
 and manners said to have been most fascinating. 
 Anna was at the time living with her parents, and 
 that the two young people thus introduced to each 
 other should fall in love was the most natural thing 
 in the world. But unfortunately the course of true 
 love soon became anything but smooth, and a dawn
 
 26 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 ing perception of those incongruities and differences 
 which afterwards clouded the life of both, seems to 
 have very soon disturbed and interrupted their 
 attachment. The story is too remote to be entered 
 into in detail ; nor, perhaps, does anyone now 
 living know exactly why it was that the engagement 
 was broken off. But this happened so soon after its 
 formation that in June 1821 Anna, in weariness and 
 disappointment and disgust with the life which had 
 thus been overcast when at the brightest, again left 
 home, and went this time to Italy as governess to a 
 beautiful girl of whom she speaks with the warmest 
 admiration. The grand tour was then still a 
 luxury possible only to those who could do it in a 
 leisurely and costly manner, loitering from capital to 
 capital, and taking full time to reap the advantage 
 of all they heard and saw. No doubt this interlude 
 of travel at so critical a moment of her life did much 
 to quicken the natural powers and cultivate the 
 special tastes of the young Englishwoman who 
 wandered so sadly through all the galleries, thinking 
 that she found in every Muste and princely collec- 
 tion only the shadow of her own deep-seated 
 sorrow. There are few things better known or 
 more frequently witnessed than that absorption in a 
 disappointment of the heart which seems for the 
 moment to fill life with but one thought and tinge 
 everything with melancholy. Sad as this condition
 
 YOUTH. 27 
 
 of spirit is to the sufferer, there can be little doubt 
 that in reality it often adds but a delicacy the more 
 to the visionary intellectual delights of an inex- 
 perienced mind fresh launched upon the great and 
 varied and splendid world of art and intellectual 
 beauty, and it is evident that this was Anna 
 Murphy's case. She was a member of what seems 
 to have been a somewhat brilliant party. Wealth 
 was indispensable to such an expedition, and the 
 journey was made en prince, according to the old 
 traditions which still haunt and mystify the path of 
 the cheaply-travelling Englishman of the present 
 day. The mother of the family was beautiful, still 
 young, apparently fond of society, and not intolerant 
 of admiration. ' I had once thought of making out 
 a list of our killed and wounded,' Anna writes to a 
 friend from Naples, after recounting the fate of an 
 ' interesting, handsome, elegant, sentimental cox- 
 comb at Rome, who fluttered round Mrs. till 
 
 he scorched his own wings ; ' and she remarks, with 
 a pleased pride very becoming to a pretty young 
 woman with so many attractions of her own, upon 
 the ' extreme beauty ' of her dear Laura, her charm- 
 ing almost grown-up pupil, which attracted all eyes 
 and drew down storms of confetti as the party 
 drove up and down the gay Toledo during the 
 Naples Carnival. This journey, however, was to 
 have a record more important than the desultory
 
 28 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 fragments of correspondence which may be collected 
 after this long interval of fifty years. 
 
 Those were the days when a journal was a 
 necessary part of the belongings of all cultivated 
 and aspiring youth, and when numbers of people in 
 actual life kept not only a record of events such as 
 so many still do, but a detailed record of their feel- 
 ings and thinkings, such as is very apt to strike the 
 reader nowadays, when fashion has changed, as 
 too elaborate to be really the private history of the 
 mind which it professes to be. So harsh a judg- 
 ment, however, would be both unjust and untrue, as 
 so many hasty judgments are. We are all familiar 
 with those perfectly genuine journals of religious 
 experience which hold so high a place among the 
 materials of biography ; but even these sprang from 
 no more real impulse than the journal of description 
 and sentiment, which suited the habit of the time, 
 and in which the young traveller recorded all her 
 impressions, and consoled herself in the melancholy 
 which pursued her wherever she went. However 
 bright and genial her surroundings, she was yet 
 more or less a stranger in the gay party, which pro- 
 bably possessed no clue to the secret trouble that 
 clouded her spirits ; and in the hours of loneliness 
 which were inevitable in her position, her diary was 
 the constant refuge of her leisure. Therein she put 
 down all that she saw, and much that she thought
 
 YOUTH. 29 
 
 concerning what she saw ; her opinions, often her 
 intuitive criticisms ; scraps of her reading ; sketches 
 of character, half playful half serious ; and sketches 
 also of the beautiful landscapes which drew her out 
 of herself. In after life the little locked volumes 
 which contained this mental record were always at 
 hand upon her table, and were kept up regularly to 
 the end of her life, though jealously preserved from 
 all eyes and destroyed at her death according to her 
 own orders. In the records of mature life no doubt 
 there must always be many things which are too 
 sacred for the general eye ; but this is rarely the 
 case in the first half of existence. The secret of 
 youth is an open secret ; its sinkings of heart, its 
 despairings, the hopeless melancholy in which it 
 revels, are so often but morning mists, shadows to 
 flee away one time or other, and melt into the light 
 of common day. 
 
 Anna's life was in this stage. She was parted 
 from her lover and from all happy prospects. Evi- 
 dently in her heart she was faithful to his image, 
 and felt the separation from him deeply ; and as she 
 travelled she carried her own atmosphere with her, 
 making to herself the most of her own despair, as is 
 so natural, and believing that a veil of darkness en- 
 veloped her for ever. This is no unusual sentiment 
 among sufferers from such causes, and many young 
 women have mused and wept as she did ; not many
 
 3 o ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 young women, however, have been able to make their 
 sorrows so interesting. It has seemed necessary to 
 make such an explanation in order to show naturally 
 how the pages, which afterwards made so attractive 
 a book, could have been written with no idea of pub- 
 lication. The reader will see presently by what a mere 
 accident it was that they got into print at all ; but in 
 the meantime they afford us an animated account of 
 where the party of travellers went, and what they 
 saw, in addition to the record of the writer's own 
 private feelings. The state of melancholy, how- 
 ever, of which it was, in the more personal portions, 
 at once the evidence and the relief, is apparent from 
 the very opening : 
 
 When to-day, for the first time in my life (she writes), 
 I saw the shores of England fade away in the distance, 
 did the conviction that I should never behold them more 
 bring with it one additional pang of regret, or one con- 
 soling thought? Neither the one nor the other. I leave 
 behind me the scenes, the objects so long associated with 
 pain ; but from the pain itself I cannot fly. It has become 
 a part of myself. I know not yet whether I ought to 
 rejoice and be thankful for this opportunity of travelling 
 while my mind is thus torn and upset, or rather regret that I 
 must visit scenes of interest, of splendour, of novelty scenes 
 over which, years ago, I used . to ponder with many a sigh 
 and many a vain longing now that I am lost to all the 
 pleasure they could once have excited ; for what is all the 
 world to me now ? But I will not weakly yield ; though 
 time and I have not been long acquainted, do I not know
 
 YOUTH. 31 
 
 what miracles he, ' the all-powerful healer,' can perform ? 
 Who knows but this dark cloud may pass away ? Con- 
 tinual motion, continual activity, continual novelty, the 
 absolute necessity for self-command, may do something 
 for me. 
 
 Then follow some verses, of which we will not 
 pretend to say that the poetical power is great ; but 
 they, too, indicate a crisis past : 
 
 It is o'er : with its pains and its pleasures 
 
 The dream of affection is o'er ; 
 The feelings I lavished so fondly 
 
 Will never return to me more. 
 
 With a faith, oh too blindly believing, 
 A truth no unkindness could move, 
 
 My prodigal heart has expended 
 At once an existence of love. 
 
 And now, like the spendthrift forsaken 
 By those whom his bounty has blest, 
 
 All empty and cold and despairing, 
 It shrinks in my desolate breast. 
 
 This was the sad mood in which the journey was 
 begun. Possibly the sorrowful sentiment might be 
 afterwards heightened here and there, to increase the 
 vraisemb lance of the pathetic suggestion which runs 
 through the diary that the writer is a heart-broken 
 invalid, gradually failing in strength, whose death is 
 the natural end of the piece ; but still there can be 
 no doubt that in the main t\\epose is real, and faith-
 
 32 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 fully represents the state of mind in which the 
 young traveller set out. The cloud, however, lifted 
 from time to time. A few days after their arrival 
 in Paris, she marvels 'at my own versatility, when 
 I think how soon my quick spirits were excited by 
 this gay, gaudy, noisy place.' In this way the story 
 goes on throughout ; whenever she is brought face 
 to face with a beautiful landscape, a fine picture, a 
 noble building, these ' quick spirits ' carry all before 
 them, and the lively intelligent observation, graceful 
 remark, and often inexperienced as she was just 
 criticism, betraying already the budding of the future 
 art critic, prove with what freshness, notwithstand- 
 ing her melancholy, she could see and judge. But 
 no sooner has the little involuntary outburst been 
 made than the sentimental sufferer reminds herself 
 of her undying grief, and all is overcast again. We 
 do not apologise for quoting from this early produc- 
 tion ; it has fallen out of the knowledge of the new 
 generation of readers, and may have got half oblite- 
 rated from the memories of the old, and it is a pic- 
 ture of things to a great extent passed away. The 
 Paris of the restored Bourbons, the Italy of Austrian 
 domination how far have both gone from us ! the 
 latter almost as far, we might suppose, as the 
 former, so complete is the change. Here is a little 
 bit of Parisian gossip of the period, at once amusing 
 and characteristic :
 
 YOUTH. 33 
 
 The rage for cashmeres and little dogs has lately given 
 way to a rage for ' Le Solitaire,' a romance written, I 
 believe, by a certain Vicomte d'Arlincourt. Le Solitaire 
 rules the imagination, the taste, the dress of half Paris. If 
 you go to the theatre, it is to see the Solitaire, either as 
 tragedy, opera, or melodrama ; the men dress their hair 
 and throw their cloaks about them a la Solitaire ; bonnets 
 and caps, flowers and ribbons, are all a la Solitaire. The 
 print-shops are full of scenes from the Solitaire ; it is on 
 every toilette, every work-table*; ladies carry it about in 
 their reticules to show each other that they are d la mode. 
 
 . . . ' Vous riavez pas lu le Solitaire?' said Madame M , 
 
 yesterday. ' Eh, mon Dieu ! il est done possible ? vous ! 
 mats, ma chere, vous tcs perdue de reputation et pour 
 jamaisf 
 
 When the party leave Paris, the writer goes on 
 with ever-increasing delight in all she sees and 
 learns, feeling that she has in a few hours stored her 
 mind with images of beauty and grandeur which 
 will last through her whole existence ; and perhaps, 
 too, feeling a little contemptuous of the 'others' 
 who, amid all this bewildering beauty and novelty, 
 can be affected by the petty 'contretemps and pri- 
 vations ' of the journey. ' To me they are nothing,' 
 she cries ; ' now I feel the value of my own enthu 
 siasm, now am I repaid in part for many pains and 
 sorrows and errors it has cost me. Though the 
 natural sentiment of that enthusiasm be now re- 
 pressed and restrained, and my spirits subdued by 
 long illness, what but enthusiasm could elevate my
 
 34 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 mind to a level with the sublime objects round me ? ' 
 A girl of the present day, in the same circumstances, 
 would probably think it right to disguise her en- 
 thusiasm, and fill her pages with a comical account 
 of the 'contretemps and privations/ the missing 
 baths and imperfect arrangements : so fashions 
 change. 
 
 The reader of the present day will naturally be 
 less interested in the description of scenes which 
 have been over and over again described, and which 
 so much larger a public than that of 1821 has gazed 
 on for itself, than with the personal glimpses of the 
 writer, lonely though in the midst of a gay party, 
 and sad though often transported out of herself with 
 excitement and visionary delight. The little pri- 
 vate expeditions she makes in the mornings and 
 evenings, before the others are astir, or when they 
 are resting from the gay fatigues of the promenade, 
 afford some of the most interesting features of the 
 record. One time she started out half-pleased by 
 her freedom, half-forlorn in her loneliness to the 
 nearest church ; and, after a little inspection of the 
 pictures, noted one 'a virgin said to be possessed 
 of miraculous powers ' which had been ' decorated 
 with a real blue silk gown spangled with tinsel 
 stars,' and which naturally excited the amused 
 horror of the English spectator, when the following 
 pretty incident occurred :
 
 YOUTH. 35 
 
 As I was sitting upon a marble step, philosophising 
 to myself and wondering at what seemed to me such 
 anomalous bad taste, such pitiable and ridiculous super- 
 stition, there came up a poor woman, leading by the hand 
 a pale and delicate boy, about four years old. She pro- 
 strated herself before the picture, while the child knelt 
 beside her, and prayed for some time with fervour ; she 
 then lifted him up, and the mother and child kissed the 
 picture alternately with great devotion. Then making him 
 kneel down and clasp his little hands, she began to teach 
 him an Ave Maria, repeating it word by word, slowly and 
 distinctly, so that I got it by heart too. Having finished 
 their devotions, the mother put into the child's hand a 
 piece of money, which she directed him to drop into a 
 box inscribed ^per i povcri vcrgognosi ' for the bashful 
 poor ; they then went their way. I was an unperceived 
 witness of this little scene, which strongly affected me. 
 The simple piety of this woman, though mistaken in its 
 object, appeared to me respectable, and the Virgin, in her 
 sky-blue brocade and gilt tiara, no longer an object to 
 ridicule. I returned home rejoicing in kinder, gentler, 
 happier thoughts. 
 
 Another evening she strolled alone into Santa 
 Croce, among all the relics of the mighty dead ; and 
 here ' spent about an hour walking up and down, 
 abandoned to thoughts which were melancholy but 
 not bitter. All memory, all feeling, all grief, all 
 pain were swallowed up in the sublime tranquillity 
 which was within and around me.' Again we find 
 her, newly arrived in Rome having reached it in 
 the rain and dark of the previous evening hurrying 
 
 D 2
 
 36 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 out ' before anyone was ready for breakfast,' and 
 running up ' the gigantic flight of marble stairs ' lead- 
 ing to the top of a hill. ' I was at the summit in a 
 moment ! ' she cries, ' and there lay Rome before 
 me innumerable domes and towers, and vanes and 
 pinnacles brightened by the rising sun. I gazed 
 and gazed as if I would drink it all in at my eyes.' 
 But, alas ! coming slowly down from that mount of 
 vision, she ' found letters from England on the break- 
 fast table ' which plunged her into troubles as unshared 
 as were her delights. Though there is not one 
 word said throughout the diary from beginning to 
 end which indicates neglect or unkindness, nothing 
 could be more suggestive of the solitude of a young 
 woman of genius in such a position, than these de- 
 scriptions of the little lonely escapades and unaccom- 
 panied wanderings here and there, which were 
 evidently the most memorable features in her life. 
 The sentences in which she describes herself as 
 seated behind backs and wrapped in ' impracticable 
 silence/ are possibly to be numbered among the 
 touches of fiction added afterwards to maintain the 
 character ; but there is more evident fact in the 
 amused tribulation with which she records how one 
 of her travelling companions, evidently the butt of 
 the party, a foolish good-natured young Englishman, 
 1 attached himself to my side the whole morning, to 
 benefit, as he said, by my " tasty remarks !" These
 
 YOUTH. 37 
 
 ' tasty remarks,' at this early period of her art educa- 
 tion, were not always trustworthy guides. As was 
 perhaps natural, she disliked Michel Angelo, and 
 expressed her dislike with vehemence : 'If all the 
 connoisseurs in the world, with Vasari at their head, 
 were to harangue for an hour together on the merits 
 of this picture ' (the Holy Family in the Tribune), ' I 
 might submit in silence, for I am no connoisseur ; 
 but that it is a disagreeable, a hateful picture, is an 
 opinion that fire would not melt out of me ! ' she 
 cries with delightful daring. 'But I speak in igno- 
 rance,' adds the inexperienced critic, a little over- 
 awed at her own audacity. To which acknowledg- 
 ment, a dozen years later, she adds in a note, ' This 
 was indeed ignorance ! ' 
 
 The journey home is much more briefly re- 
 corded, and probably altered more from its original 
 shape in the young lady's diary, than the beginning. 
 The fictitious termination, so loudly complained of 
 when in later years the authorship was acknow- 
 ledged, involved various alterations, obliterations, 
 and additions. 
 
 The expedition thus recorded lasted altogether for 
 about a year, and then Anna parted from her travel- 
 ling companions, and changed her surroundings 
 altogether. Shortly after she became governess to 
 the children of Mr. Littleton, one of the members 
 for Staffordshire, afterwards Lord Hatherton, and
 
 38 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 remained in that family for four years. She was happy 
 in her new position, and became deeply attached to 
 her pupils and to their parents, for whom throughout 
 the remainder of her life she retained the warmest 
 friendship. During this interval, however, the sky 
 began to clear, and the melancholy certainty that 
 all happy dreams were fled changed into such a 
 renewal of confidence and affection that, in the year 
 1825, the broken engagement having been renewed 
 some time before, Anna Murphy married, and became 
 Mrs. Jameson, the name by which alone she is known 
 to the general reader. 
 
 Up to this time, with the exception of the ' Diary/ 
 then reposing peacefully in its little locked volumes, 
 she had written nothing except ' Faizy,' a story for 
 children entitled ' Little Louisa,' a child's vocabulary 
 of useful words, and the comedietta of ' Much Coin, 
 much Care,' a proverb dramatised for her young 
 pupils the Littleton children, afterwards published 
 with other fragments in her volumes of ' Visits and 
 Sketches at Home and Abroad.' 
 
 Mrs. Jameson's marriage, which, as it turned 
 out, brought her little but misfortune, seems, so 
 far as external circumstances went, to have taken 
 place with every promise of mutual well-being. 
 The. new husband and wife were of kindred tastes 
 and accomplishments, fond of literature and of 
 cultivated society, and, though not rich, of suffi-
 
 YOUTH. 39 
 
 ciently good prospects to justify their union in a 
 time not quite so exacting in this respect as the 
 present. They began their life, as a couple of equal 
 pretensions would scarcely like to do now-a-days, 
 in a lodging in the unromantic neighbourhood of 
 Chenies Street, Tottenham Court Road. It was 
 during the early confidence and harmony of this 
 beginning that the little book which had been 
 Anna's confidant and consoler during the first pangs 
 of a separation which seemed likely to last for ever, 
 was first revealed to any eye but her own. She 
 began by reading fragments to .her husband for his 
 amusement, and also perhaps as a revelation of the 
 tenor of her thoughts at that period upon which both 
 could look back as a trouble past. The contrast 
 must have been piquant. And the manner in which 
 this youthful composition got into print furnishes an 
 amusing incident in Mrs. Jameson's early history. 
 
 Among the many friends whom the young couple, 
 both full of talent and accomplishments, collected 
 around them, was one of a very unusual character, 
 with whom Mr. Jameson had made acquaintance 
 in some rambling excursion, or over some collection 
 of old books or engravings for which he had a 
 connoisseur's affection an acquaintance that grew 
 gradually into something like intimacy. This was 
 a man of the name of Thomas, who had started in 
 life in no higher position than that of a cobbler, but
 
 40 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 whom a love of books and study had brought into 
 contact with people of superior intelligence, and who 
 had worked himself gradually by means of this into 
 a curiously nondescript position, half bookseller, half 
 craftsman, with strong inclinations towards the study 
 of law. The primitive way in which he is said to 
 have begun life is of itself interesting ; for his passion 
 for books becoming soon well known among the 
 humbler classes to which he belonged, many who 
 found themselves possessors of an old book or two 
 brought them to the bookworm, willing to take a 
 small price for volumes that sometimes proved of 
 considerable value. Thomas's custom was to buy 
 all that was brought to him for his private reading, 
 and, having devoured their contents, to sell them 
 over again and buy new ones, thus adding continually 
 to his own mental and practical resources at one and 
 the same time. He sold these volumes of course 
 at a profit, having doubtless a more correct know- 
 ledge of the value and character of such books than 
 the humble vendors ; and after a time he opened 
 a secondhand bookshop on his own account, and 
 began to rise in the world, and even to publish in 
 a small way. But his soaring ambition aimed, as 
 has been said, at nothing less than the honours of 
 the law, and his studies soon took this direction ex- 
 clusively. Mr. Jameson was sufficiently interested 
 in Thomas to give him the benefit of his counsel
 
 YOUTH. 41 
 
 and help in this ambitious desire, and also brought 
 him to his house, and introduced him to his wife. 
 Among other self-acquired accomplishments, Mr. 
 Thomas had mastered the guitar, and obtained some 
 skill upon this instrument. Herself an ardent lover 
 of music, Mrs. Jameson gladly availed herself of the 
 instruction volunteered by their eccentric acquaint- 
 ance. One evening, while he was with them, it so 
 happened that the visit to the Continent and her 
 ' Diary ' was spoken of, and at her husband's desire 
 Mrs. Jameson brought forth the green- covered 
 volumes, and read aloud certain portions of her 
 foreign experiences, criticisms, &c. Thomas at once 
 asked whether he might not have the MS. for pub- 
 lication, and expressed himself willing to take all 
 the pecuniary risk involved in printing and bringing 
 it out. The idea was new and amusing to the 
 inexperienced pair. ' You may print it if you like,' 
 said Mrs. Jameson, adding, half in jest, ' if it sells 
 for anything more than will pay the expenses, you 
 shall give me a Spanish guitar for my share of the 
 profits.' 
 
 Thomas accepted the conditions so lightly offered, 
 and the MS., partially revised and considerably 
 curtailed in parts, as we have above stated, was con- 
 signed into his hands. It was agreed that the book 
 should be published anonymously, and, the better to 
 maintain the desired secrecy as to its authorship,
 
 42 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 a final paragraph was added, which was fiction, pur 
 et simple. Herein it was stated that ' the writer died 
 on her way home at Autun, in her twenty-sixth year, 
 and had been buried in the garden of the Capuchin 
 Monastery near that city.' 
 
 The work was advertised by Thomas under the 
 title of ' A Lady's Diary,' and, most probably after 
 its success had become apparent to experienced eyes, 
 Mr. Colburn, the publisher, made our enterprising 
 friend an offer of fifty pounds for the copyright, 
 which was accepted, and a ten guinea guitar pur- 
 chased by Thomas and handed over to the author. 
 A certain number of copies must have been printed 
 off by him under the original title, one of which 
 would appear to have been presented to a most 
 valued friend, Mrs. Basil Montagu, as I have seen 
 a copy bearing the name of this lady on the fly-leaf 
 (title-page there is none), ' Anne D. B. Montagu ; ' 
 and a few lines below, also in Mrs. Montagu's hand- 
 writing, stating that ' this book was published under 
 the altered title of " The Diary of an Ennuye"e ; " it 
 is written by Mrs. Robert Jameson! 
 
 The book, however, was known to the public 
 only by the second title, one probably deemed fitter 
 for the ' ears polite ' of British readers than the 
 English synonym proposed by the writer herself in 
 the first page, where she exclaims, ' Here beginneth 
 the Diary of a Blue Devil.'
 
 YOUTH. 43 
 
 The success of the volume was prompt and grati- 
 fying, and though the public in general is said to 
 have been flatteringly disgusted by the discovery 
 that it had been cheated, as it were, out of its sym- 
 pathy, and that the author had not pined and died, 
 and was buried in no convent garden, she had no 
 reason to be dissatisfied with her first serious ex- 
 periment in literature. Though the guitar, which 
 was her only remuneration, was no great recompense, 
 yet the door had been opened to her into the favour 
 of the public, and an important step thus made. 
 Her next productions were announced as by ' Mrs. 
 Jameson, author of the " Diary of an Ennuyee." ' 
 
 These were the ' Loves of the Poets,' and the 
 ' Celebrated Female Sovereigns ' two works, I have 
 reason to believe, long since out of print, at least 
 in this country, and to which, as essays of minor im- 
 portance among her more characteristic works, it is 
 scarcely needful to refer. 
 
 I may add here a contemporary personal sketch 
 of Mrs. Jameson, dated just after the commencement 
 of her literary life, which may prove interesting at 
 this point of her career. Shortly after her marriage, 
 she had become intimately acquainted with Mr. and 
 Mrs. Basil Montagu, and with that gifted lady's 
 daughter and her husband, Bryan Waller Procter, 
 best known, perhaps, as Barry Cornwall, the poet- 
 lawyer, In this distinguished circle she met many
 
 44 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 well-known and notable people, with some of whom 
 she formed lifelong friendships ; and from one of these, 
 Mrs. Fanny Kemble, we have the following account 
 of her first meeting, in 1828, with Mrs. Jameson, at 
 the Montagus' house in Bedford Square : ' While 
 under the immediate spell of her fascinating book, 
 it was of course very delightful to me to make 
 Mrs. Jameson's acquaintance, which I did at the 
 house of our friends Mr. and Mrs. Basil Montagu.' 
 ' At an evening party there I first saw Mrs. Jameson. 
 The Ennuyde, one is given to understand, dies, and 
 it was a little vexatious to behold her sitting on a 
 sofa in a very becoming state of blooming plumpi- 
 tude ; but it was some compensation to be introduced 
 to her. And so began a close and friendly intimacy, 
 which lasted for many years, between myself and this 
 very accomplished woman. ' 1 Mrs. Kemble after- 
 wards adds the following more elaborate description 
 of Mrs. Jameson's personal appearance and bearing. 
 Anyone who has seen the portrait painted a few 
 years later of her by Mrs. Opie's son-in-law, H. P. 
 Briggs, R.A., will recognise the truth of this pen- 
 and-ink picture. 
 
 When first I met Mrs. Jameson she was an attractive- 
 looking young woman, with a skin of that dazzling white- 
 ness which generally accompanies reddish hair, such as hers 
 
 1 In Leigh Hunt's 'Bluestockings' he writes: -See Jameson 
 accomplished.'
 
 YOUTH. 45 
 
 was ; her face, which was habitually refined and spiritnelle 
 in its expression, was capable of a marvellous power of 
 concentrated feeling, such as is seldom seen on any woman's 
 face, and is peculiarly rare on the countenance of a fair, 
 small, delicately-featured woman, all whose characteristics 
 were essentially feminine. Her figure was extremely 
 pretty ; her hands and arms might have been those of 
 Madame de Warens.
 
 46 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 
 
 MR. JAMESON'S success in his profession, at least in 
 England, does not seem to have fulfilled the ex- 
 pectations with which he and his wife made even so 
 modest a beginning in life as this start in Chenies 
 Street ; after four years spent together, he seems 
 to have sought in a colonial appointment the success 
 which, at the bar, it is often so difficult to secure 
 at home. In 1829 he was appointed puisne judge 
 in the Island of Dominica. It does not seem, how- 
 ever, that there was any idea of his wife accompany- 
 ing him in what was, at the best, a venture as to 
 climate, comfort, and permanency. He went alone, 
 and she, thus left to temporary solitude, returned to 
 the shelter of her father's house, and to the consola- 
 tion of that warm and strong family love which was 
 always her stronghold and protection. It would be 
 vain to affect to doubt that the incompatibilities of 
 temper and disposition, which at a later period 
 separated them finally, had already appeared, 1 and 
 
 A little anecdote of their early married life has been told me 
 since this work was begun, which, as I do not think it can wound any
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 47 
 
 made the seeming calamity of this break-up of their 
 domestic life less a trial than a relief ; but happily 
 it is unnecessary as yet to touch upon this painful 
 question. They parted to all appearance in perfect 
 amity, and with a natural cause for the severance, 
 which there is no reason to believe either had then 
 decided upon making final. He went to his appoint- 
 ment in considerable uncertainty, as is evident by his 
 letters, as to what his circumstances and duties were 
 
 one now living, and as it throws more light on Mrs. Jameson's diffi- 
 culties as a wife than any vague statements can do, I am tempted to 
 repeat, as it was told to me by an old and intimate friend. The pair 
 were married in the middle of a week Wednesday, my informant 
 believes and settled at once in their lodgings above referred to. On 
 the Sunday Mr. Jameson announced his intention of going out to the 
 house of some friends with whom he had been in the habit of spend- 
 ing Sunday before his marriage. The young wife was struck dumb 
 by the proposal. ' But,' she said, ' they do not know me ; they may 
 not want to know me. Would it not be better to wait until they have 
 time at least to show whether they care for my acquaintance ? ' ' That 
 is as you please,' said the husband, ' but in any case, whether you 
 come or not, I shall go.' The bride of three or four days had to 
 make up her mind. How could she intrude herself upon strangers ? 
 but supposing, on the other hand, that any friend of her own should 
 come, any member of her family, to congratulate her on her happiness, 
 how could her pride bear to be found there alone and forsaken on the 
 first Sunday of her married life ? Accordingly, with an effort she 
 prepared herself and set out with him in her white gown, forlorn 
 enough, who can doubt ? They had not gone far when it began to 
 rain, and, taking advantage of this same white gown as a pretext for 
 escaping from so embarrassing a visit, she declared it impossible to 
 go further. ' Very well,' once more said the bridegroom ; ' you have 
 an umbrella. Go back by all means ; but I shall go on.' And so he 
 ^id ; and though received, as his astonished hosts afterwards related, 
 i li exclamations of bewilderment and consternation, calmly ate his 
 dinner with them, and spent the rest of the evening until his usual 
 hour with perfect equanimity and unconcern. No fancy sketch of the 
 feelings of the young wife returning to her lodgings alone need be 
 added to this wonderful but perfectly true tale.
 
 48 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 to be ; and she remained in England until his pro- 
 spects should be so far ascertained as to make the 
 re-establishment of their home practicable. If her 
 life was not that of a happy wife, it was at least a 
 composed and not unhappy woman, with many friends 
 and resources, whom her husband left behind him, 
 thinking no more of everlasting melancholy and the 
 sentimental despair of youth, and settling down 
 without complaint to make the best that could be 
 made of a life still holding many elements of happi- 
 ness. 
 
 Shortly after her husband's departure Mrs. Jame- 
 son went to the Continent with her father and his 
 friend and patron, Sir Gerard Noel. She gives a 
 description of the calmed and tranquillised state of 
 her mind during this journey in a dialogue published 
 in the volumes entitled ' Visits and Sketches at 
 Home and Abroad/ 
 
 I thought, not without gratitude (she says), of the 
 contrast between present feelings and those of a former 
 journey. To abandon oneself to the quickening influence 
 of new objects, without care or thought of to-morrow ; 
 with a mind awake in all its strength ; with natural health 
 and cheerfulness ; with sensibility tamed not dead ; pos- 
 sessing one's soul in quiet ; not seeking nor shrinking from 
 excitement ; not self-engrossed nor yet pining for sym- 
 pathy : was not this much ? 
 
 'Not so interesting, perhaps/ she continues 
 doubtless with half a smile at her former self ' as
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 49 
 
 playing the Ennuyde! This time the party consisted 
 of two ladies and two gentlemen two fathers and 
 two daughters, one of the latter being a naive and 
 attractive girl. ' We travelled a la Milor Anglais', 
 Mrs. Jameson adds 'a partie carrde; a barouche 
 hung on the most approved principles, double- 
 cushioned, luxurious, rising and sinking on its springs 
 like a swan on the wave ; the pockets stuffed with 
 new publications, maps, and guides ad infinitum ; 
 English servants for comfort, foreign servants for 
 use ; a chessboard ; backgammon-tables ; in short, 
 surrounded with all that could render us entirely 
 independent of the amusements we had come to 
 seek, and of the people we had come to visit.' We 
 may quote from the same record an amusing sketch 
 of the leader of the party : 
 
 Our Chef de Voyage for so we chose to entitle him 
 who was the planner and director of the excursion- was 
 one of the most accomplished and most eccentric of.human 
 beings : even courtesy might have termed him old at seventy ; 
 but old age and he were many miles asunder, and it seemed 
 as though he had made some compact with Time, like that 
 of Faust with the Devil, and was not to surrender to his 
 inevitable adversary till the last moment. Years could 
 not quench his vivacity, nor 'stale his infinite variety.' 
 He had been one of the Prince's wild companions in the 
 days of Sheridan and Fox, and could play alternately 
 blackguard and gentleman, each in perfection ; but the 
 high-born gentleman ever prevailed. He had been heir to 
 an enormous income, most of which had slipped through 
 
 E
 
 5 o ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 his fingers unknownst, as the Irish say, and had stood in 
 the way of a coronet, which somehow or other had passed 
 over his head to light on that of his eldest son. He had 
 lived a life which would have ruined twenty iron constitu- 
 tions, and had suffered what might well have broken twenty 
 hearts of common stuff ; but his self-complacency was in- 
 vulnerable, his animal spirits inexhaustible, his activity 
 indefatigable. The eccentricities of this singular man 
 have been matter of celebrity ; but against each of these 
 stories it would be easy to place some act of benevolence, 
 some trait of gentlemanly feeling, which would at least 
 neutralise their effect. He often told me that he had early 
 in life selected three models after which to form his own 
 character and conduct ; namely, De Grammont, Hotspur, 
 and Lord Herbert of Cherbury : and he certainly did unite, 
 in a greater degree than he knew himself, the character- 
 istics of all three. 
 
 Having quoted thus far, I must give from the 
 same lively page a charming anecdote of this won- 
 derful old man. Mrs. Jameson is giving a descrip- 
 tion of the first German performance of the opera 
 of ' Don Giovanni ' which she had heard, and which 
 half displeased and half delighted her : 
 
 On looking round after Donna Anna's song, I was 
 surprised to see our Chef de Voyage bathed in tears ; 
 but, no whit disconcerted, he merely wiped them away, 
 saying, with a smile, ' It is the very prettiest, softest thing 
 to cry to one's self ! ' Afterwards, when we were in the 
 carriage, he expressed his surprise that any man should 
 be ashamed of tears. ' For my own part,' he added, 
 ' when I wish to enjoy the very high sublime of luxury, I
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 51 
 
 dine alone, order a mutton cutlet cuite a point with a bottle 
 of Burgundy on one side and Ovid's Epistle of Penelope to 
 Ulysses on the other. And so I read, and eat, and cry to 
 myself.' And then he repeated with enthusiasm 
 
 Hanc tua Penelope lento tibi mittit, Ulysse : 
 Nil mihi rescribas, attamen ipse veni ; 
 
 his eyes glistening as he recited the lines. 
 
 A great many of the incidents and observations 
 that occurred during this tour will be found in the 
 volumes I have already quoted from, and which 
 will be referred to further on. In the meantime, 
 a bit of more familiar description may be added 
 from the family report addressed from Brussels to 
 the mother and sisters at home : 
 
 We have reached this place, one of our chosen stations 
 on the journey, and I am quite delighted with what I 
 have seen of it, and pleased with all my travelling com- 
 panions, but most of all with Sir Gerard, who is really 
 very amiable and very interesting, and H. J. 1 and I get on 
 capitally together. She is a dear little creature, with some 
 of her father's caprices, much of his talent, and more of his 
 real benevolence. As to papa, he is in excellent spirits, 
 and desires me to tell you that he behaves very well. He 
 goes wandering about and admiring everything he sees ; 
 and he has bought a pair of spectacles for tenpence which 
 are the best in the world, and a pair for mamma, and a 
 lantern for Edward 2 to send up at his kite's tail, with 
 other invaluable things too many to enumerate ; and I 
 think I never saw him so happy or looking better. 
 
 1 Sir Gerard Noel's youngest daughter, born of his second wife, 
 who died at her birth. 
 a His nephew. 
 
 E 2
 
 52 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 The recollections of this journey were probably 
 in Mrs. Jameson's mind when long after, quoting in 
 her' Commonplace Book ' Wtlkie's remark that there 
 was ' nothing new to him in the whole country ' 
 which Teniers, Rubens, and Wouvermans had illus- 
 trated, she adds : ' I had the same feeling when 
 travelling in Holland and Belgium. It was to me 
 a perpetual succession of reminiscences, and so it has 
 been with others. Rubens and Rembrandt were 
 continually in my mind, and occasionally the more 
 poetic Ruysdael.' 
 
 The family history had not been without other 
 events during this period, which had been of so 
 much importance in Anna's life. Two of her sisters 
 had married, one in the same year as herself, 1825, 
 and one a year later ; and it was with the first of 
 these, Louisa, Mrs. Bate, the wife of an artist, that 
 she took up her abode on her return from her 
 continental journey. Her father and mother, and 
 the two unmarried sisters, Eliza and Charlotte, had 
 taken a pleasant house set in a large garden at St. 
 John's Wood, Mr. Murphy continuing those artist 
 excursions of his, for pleasure and profit, which were 
 the delight of his existence, and which, alas ! were 
 now soon to cease for him for ever. In 1830, while 
 at Scraptoft, near Leicester, he addressed the fol- 
 lowing little note to his 'dearest Anna,' which
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 53 
 
 throws a slight incidental light upon the family cir- 
 cumstances at the time : 
 
 I do not expect you can spare time to write to me, but 
 nevertheless I will write to you, as I think it will please 
 you ; but on no account waste your precious moments or 
 your ink to a purpose so entirely unprofitable. I am in 
 earnest, and if the good people in St. John's Wood will 
 only mention you (pleasantly) whenever they write, I will 
 be satisfied. I hear with particular delight that our dear 
 baby is beginning to look well, and as if she meant to live 
 after all ; and you must for me congratulate Henry and 
 Louisa, and say I wish I could be of real use to them. I 
 am sorry to hear you have no accounts from Jameson 
 lately. I am not surprised at this, as I never had much 
 dependence on your pecuniary aid from the West Indies. 
 Your comforts will most likely in future depend on your- 
 self. How many plates has Wright engraved lately ? 
 
 This question refers to a series of copper-plates 
 in process of engraving from certain exquisite copies 
 in miniature made by Mr. Murphy of the collection of 
 portraits known as ' The Windsor Beauties,' painted 
 for King Charles II. by Sir Peter Lely, and now 
 collected at Hampton Court. These copies were 
 commenced in 1814 by command of the Princess 
 Charlotte, in whose household, from the year 1810, 
 Mr. Murphy had held the appointment of Painter in 
 Enamel. To the original series had been added, 
 ' by express desire,' several portraits not included in 
 the Windsor series, and among these Nell Gwynn 
 and Louise de la Querouaille. At the time these
 
 54 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 miniatures were in progress, an apartment in Wind- 
 sor Castle was allotted to the artist, and during 
 his stay the princesses, one and all, were wont 
 occasionally to amuse themselves by coming to visit 
 the painter at his work, and conversing with him on 
 the subject of the portraits, in which and in his suc- 
 cessful rendering of the likenesses they took the 
 liveliest and kindest interest. 
 
 ' Mr. Murphy had also the honour,' says an old 
 preface to the publication of the biographical 
 sketches written to illustrate his labours, ' of sub- 
 mitting the first eight portraits of the series, when 
 finished, to the late Queen Charlotte, in a special 
 audience ; and she not only expressed her satisfac- 
 tion in the most gracious terms, but ordered it to be 
 conveyed to him in writing by General Taylor.' 
 Mr. Murphy took the liberty of asking her Majesty 
 whether she recollected a famous picture of Nell 
 Gwynn, known to have once existed in the Windsor 
 Gallery. (It should be observed that Queen Char- 
 lotte was suspected of having, from peculiar notions 
 of propriety, removed this picture.) The queen 
 replied at once, that most assuredly, since she had 
 resided at Windsor, there had been no Nell Gwynn 
 there ! 
 
 It is not to be supposed that so proper a person 
 as Queen Charlotte could have intended anything 
 beyond a mere statement of facts by such an
 
 AFTER MARR/AGE. 55 
 
 equivocal reply ; but it caught the fancy and the 
 memory of the Irish artist, always ready to see a 
 joke, and he carried home the unintentional repartee 
 to his girls with much merriment, as also another 
 little pleasantry of a more straightforward kind. 
 When the whole series of the Lely pictures was 
 completed, and exhibited to the Princess Charlotte 
 herself, she could not refrain from a malicious little 
 joke at the expense of the grandmother, between 
 whom and herself existed nothing in common be- 
 yond their name. ' Mr. Murphy,' she said, ' I see 
 the set of portraits is not complete.' 
 
 ' Indeed, I believe your Royal Highness will 
 find that none have been omitted.' 
 
 ' Nay, Mr. Murphy ; " The Windsor Beauties " are 
 not complete. You haven't got my grandmother ! ' 
 
 Before the other portraits that were to complete 
 the series were finished, the Princess Charlotte died, 
 and with her the hopes, fortunes, and happiness of 
 many to whom she had shown kindness. Mr. 
 Murphy was one among those unfortunate persons 
 whose personal affliction was for a time swallowed up 
 in the general grief. He had lost a kind friend and 
 patroness, had lost his appointment, and had re- 
 ceived no payment for work that had occupied the 
 greater part of his time during three years, and was 
 now near its completion. After the lapse of a 
 certain time, Mr. Murphy sent his copies, with a
 
 56 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 written statement of his claims, duly authenticated, 
 to the proper quarter, with in addition a ' memorial ' 
 to Prince Leopold, informing him of the circum- 
 stances, and stating that the artist had ' received the 
 commands of her late Royal Highness, the ever- 
 lamented> Princess Charlotte, to paint a set of the 
 beauties of King Charles II.'s reign, copied from the 
 originals in his Majesty's collection at Windsor, and 
 from other celebrated pictures in private collections, 
 and that this circumstance is well known to the 
 royal family and those of her Royal Highness's 
 household who possessed her confidence ; that on 
 this undertaking much time and a considerable sum 
 of money had been expended, in the certainty of 
 being remunerated by her Royal Highness's munifi- 
 cent patronage ; but that when the artist's object was 
 nearly completed, all his hopes were crushed by that 
 fatal event which had plunged a nation into mourn- 
 ing.' The memorial goes on to say that Mr. Murphy 
 had forborne to intrude himself on the notice of 
 Prince Leopold from motives of delicacy ' but hear- 
 ing that it is your Royal Highness's wish to fulfil as 
 far as possible the intentions of our lamented prin- 
 cess, he ventures to make this appeal to your Royal 
 Highness's justice and munificence ; and only re- 
 quests to know whether he may be permitted to 
 execute his original design under the auspices of 
 your Royal Highness, and with the same hopes and
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 57 
 
 prospects which her late Royal Highness graciously 
 allowed him to indulge.' 
 
 This ' memorial ' obtained only the following 
 reply from Sir Robert Gardiner, the prince's secre- 
 tary, dated Claremont, July 7, 1818 : 
 
 Sir, I have laid your letter before the Prince Leopold, 
 and have submitted your drawings (?) to his Royal High- 
 ness's inspection. His Royal Highness expressed no wish 
 to become a purchaser, but enquired if I knew the amount 
 you valued them at. If you will inform me of this by this 
 evening's post, it would perhaps prevent your having the 
 trouble of a journey to Esher, in the event of his Royal 
 Highness becoming a purchaser. Do not, however, let me 
 lead you to suppose that will be the case, as he made no 
 intimation whatever of such an intention. When I receive 
 your answer I will make it known to the prince, and lose 
 no time in communicating to you whatever his Royal 
 Highness's decision may be. 
 
 The terms were at once made known to the 
 prince's secretary ; but any hopes that might natu- 
 rally enough have been entertained of the result of 
 the application were altogether set aside within a 
 few days by the decision of Prince Leopold, as com- 
 municated by Sir Robert Gardiner, who ' takes the 
 earliest opportunity of forwarding to Mr. Murphy 
 the drawings left at Claremont Lodge for the Prince 
 Leopold's inspection, and to inform Mr. Murphy that 
 his Royal Highness does not wish to purchase them.' 
 
 This disappointment, it may easily be supposed,
 
 58 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 was no small blow to a man depending upon his 
 own exertions. The loss of time .and money and 
 work, which every true artist values more than 
 either, was irreparable ; and no attempt ever was 
 made to help or to compensate. It was not till ten 
 years later that an effort was made to put so much 
 labour to some use, and the plan was formed of en- 
 graving the portraits and publishing them in a book, 
 with illustrative memoirs from the pen of the artist's 
 daughter. The original edition of ' The Beauties 
 of the Court of King Charles II.' appeared accord- 
 ingly in an expensive quarto volume, illustrated by 
 the portraits. The text accompanying them, ' a 
 Series of Memoirs, Biographical and Critical, illus- 
 trating the Diaries of Pepys, Evelyn, Clarendon, 
 and other contemporary writers,' was compiled with 
 spirit and taste ; but the outlay necessary for the 
 production of such a work so absorbed the profits 
 that the desired result was not attained. This was 
 the work undertaken and ' published in the hope of 
 affording pecuniary aid to the author's father, then in 
 difficulties,' which is referred to in Miss Martineau's 
 sketch of my aunt's life, published at the period 
 of her death in the ' Daily News ; ' though Miss 
 Martineau makes the statement erroneously (and 
 somewhat injuriously) with respect to Mrs. Jameson's 
 first publication, the history of which has already 
 been given.
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 59 
 
 Up to this time, with the exception of the book 
 just referred to, Mrs. Jameson's works had been 
 entirely of a personal character : the records of her 
 own wanderings and thinkings, her opinions upon 
 art and artists ; her impressions of people she had 
 met and things which she had seen ; works taking 
 very much of their value from the delicate thread of 
 individual character which ran through them the 
 attractive suggestion of a cultivated and graceful 
 companion conducting the reader through many fair 
 scenes and among many notable objects and persons 
 rather than of a book, an absolute and impersonal 
 thing. Now, however, emboldened by success, and by 
 the graver impulses of a mature intellect, she under- 
 took a more serious book, her first important con- 
 tribution to literature. This was the work entitled 
 ' Characteristics of Women,' a series of essays on the 
 female characters of Shakespeare a happy subject, 
 most happily treated. It was a kind of study pecu- 
 liarly delightful to her own mind, one into which 
 she threw all the fascination of her own enthusiasm 
 for the greatest of poets, quickened by much true 
 and genial insight into womanly character and the 
 light which poetry throws upon its ideal impersona- 
 tions. The spirit in which this work was undertaken 
 she herself explains in the following words : 
 
 These studies were written, not to present a complete 
 commentary on Shakespeare's women ; such an under-
 
 6o ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 taking would have required much more critical learning 
 than I possess, a profounder knowledge of the spirit of 
 past ages, and more acquaintance with the sources whence 
 Shakespeare drew his incidents and materials. I must 
 have dived far deeper into that vast, perplexing chaos of 
 tradition, poetry, history, romance, real life, whence he 
 conjured up spirits of grace, intellect, grandeur, and bade 
 them stand before us, clothed in the aspects and passions 
 of humanity. I could not do this, but I selected a few 
 among the creatures of his art for particular consideration, 
 merely to throw into a pleasing and intelligible form some 
 observations on the natural workings of mind and feeling 
 in my own sex, which might lead to good. More than 
 this I never designed, more than this I never attempted ; 
 and what I have attempted I sincerely wish I had done 
 better. 
 
 The introductory dialogue imagined as between 
 herself and a friend, 1 at once her counsellor and critic, 
 explains yet more elaborately the spirit in which her 
 essays were conceived. In the intimacy which had 
 sprung up between herself and the members of the 
 Kemble family, it was natural that they should be 
 among those consulted with regard to the general 
 plan. Even the less important particular of the 
 name under which the book should appear, would 
 seem to have been referred to these friends, as we 
 
 1 Mrs. Jameson's own copy ot this book, now in the possession of 
 her sister, is full of marginal notes, in which something very similar 
 to this dialogue is carried on, another hand making continual remarks 
 and suggestions, which are now and then responded to in her own 
 writing.
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 61 
 
 see from a letter, dated August 30 of that year, 
 from Fanny Kemble : 
 
 I forgot to tell you which name appears best for your 
 book ; the fact is, I flew off into ecstasies about the work 
 itself, and gave you, I believe, a tirade about the ' Tempest' 
 instead of the opinion you asked. I agree with you that 
 there is much in the name of a work ; it is almost as 
 desirable that a book should be well called, as that it 
 should be well written ; a promising title-page is like an 
 agreeable face, an inducement to further acquaintance, 
 and an earnest of future pleasure. For myself, I prefer 
 ' Characters of Shakespeare's Women ; ' it is shorter, and 
 I think will look better than the other in print. 
 
 The first edition appeared in 1832, having a 
 graceful etching by the writer for its frontispiece, 
 representing a female figure seated dejectedly be- 
 neath a tall lily bush, a tiny bark vanishing into a 
 stormy distance, and the words ' To Fanny Kemble 
 this little work is dedicated.' In the first American 
 edition, published in New York five years later, this 
 dedication is repeated in her friend's married name, 
 with a few additional words of affectionate recollec- 
 tion. ' I have particular pleasure,' Mrs. Jameson 
 says, ' my dearest Fanny, in once more dedicating 
 to you, by your new name in a new land, this little 
 book, which in its progress you cherished, and 
 which without you would in all probability never 
 have been published.' 
 
 Before this work came into being, several other 
 sketches, however, had been written, the greater part
 
 62 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 of which were collected in the four volumes of 
 'Visits and Sketches' already referred to. In 1830, 
 Fanny Kemble alludes to one of these fugitive 
 pieces, telling a friend that ' a series of sketches by 
 Mr. Hayter, from " The Juliet," is coming out, with 
 a species of avant-propos by Mrs. Jameson a 
 beautifully written but too flattering notice of my 
 performance. The original drawings were purchased 
 by Lord Ellesmere.' 
 
 The same chronicler describes another sketch, 
 that of Mrs. Siddons, an account of whose career 
 Mrs. Jameson had written a few days after her death. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson (writes Mrs. Kemble) at one time con- 
 templated writing a life of my aunt Siddons, not thinking 
 Boaden's biography of her satisfactory. In this purpose, 
 however, she was effectually opposed by Campbell, who had 
 undertaken the work ; and, though he exhibited neither 
 interest nor zeal in the fulfilment of his task, doggedly (in 
 the manger) refused to relinquish it to her. Certainly, had 
 Mrs. Jameson carried out her intentions, Mrs. Siddons 
 would have had a monument dedicated to her memory 
 better calculated to preserve it than those which the above- 
 named gentleman bestowed on her. It would have been 
 written in a spirit of far higher artistic discrimination, and 
 with infinitely more sympathy with the woman and with 
 the actress. 
 
 Of the sketch that did appear, Mrs. Jameson 
 says : 
 
 A misapprehension of the real character of this remark- 
 able woman, which I know to exist in the minds of many
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 63 
 
 who admired and venerated her talents, has induced me to 
 enlarge the first very slight sketch into a more finished but 
 still inadequate portrait. I have spared no pains to verify 
 the truth of my own conception by testimony of every kind 
 that was attainable. I have penned every word as if I had 
 been in that great final court where the thoughts of all 
 hearts are manifested, and those who best knew the indi- 
 vidual I have attempted to delineate bear witness to the 
 fidelity of the portrait, as far as it goes. I must be per- 
 mitted to add that, in this and the succeeding sketch, 1 I 
 have not only been inspired by the wish to do justice to 
 individual virtue and talent ; I wished to impress and 
 illustrate that important truth that a gifted woman may 
 pursue a public vocation, yet preserve the purity and main- 
 tain the dignity of herself that there is no prejudice which 
 will not shrink away before moral energy, and no profession 
 which may not be made compatible with the respect due 
 to us as women, the cultivation of every feminine virtue, 
 and the practice of every private duty. I might here 
 multiply examples and exceptions, and discuss causes and 
 results, but it is a consideration I reserve for another 
 opportunity. 
 
 This is an indication, though not the first, how 
 much the special difficulties of women a subject 
 naturally occupying the attention of female writers 
 at all times already filled her thoughts. 
 
 Mr. Jameson returned from Dominica early in 
 the year 1833, and rejoined his wife at the house of 
 her sister Mrs. Bate. His letters in the meantime 
 had given often a very lively account of the island 
 
 1 That of Fanny Kemble.
 
 64 ANNA JAMESON, 
 
 to which he had been temporarily banished, and in 
 which his circumstances were not sufficiently com- 
 fortable, nor his appointment of a sufficiently satis- 
 factory character, to induce any longer stay than was 
 absolutely necessary, or to offer any inducement to his 
 wife to join him. They remained together in Lon- 
 don till the spring, when, having procured another 
 and more hopeful appointment through his wife's 
 influential friends, Mr. Jameson set out for Canada, 
 this time with a full intention on his part to prepare 
 there a home for her, and a promise on hers that 
 she should join him whenever he had become fully 
 acquainted with, and felt fairly established in, his 
 new position. In the meantime literary engage- 
 ments had increased upon her. She had become 
 well known and popular, her works being of a kind 
 which made their author known to her readers more 
 than is the case with literary productions of a more 
 abstract nature. And before her husband's departure 
 it is evident that she had planned a continental 
 expedition of a more serious and independent kind 
 than heretofore ; no longer as a member of a party, 
 but on her own account, and for objects connected 
 with her literary career. 
 
 Accordingly in 1833 Mrs. Jameson went to Ger- 
 many, where she found a kindly welcome among the 
 highest literary and social circles. Her name as the 
 writer of the essays on Shakespeare's heroines was
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 65 
 
 already familiar there, and the warmth of her recep- 
 tion was enhanced by certain valuable letters of 
 introduction furnished her by a gentleman, then a 
 new acquaintance, but later one of her dearest and 
 most trusted friends. 
 
 Previous to Mr. Jameson's departure for Canada, 
 Behnes Burlowe, a promising young sculptor of 
 their acquaintance, 1 brought his friend Robert Noel, 
 a cousin of Lady Noel Byron's, to introduce him. 
 This gentleman had learned to know Mrs. Jameson 
 already through her books, and his admiration for 
 the writer soon warmed into the most chivalric 
 attachment, the truest and most beautiful form of 
 friendship a friendship fully shared by the young 
 German wife, who soon after made a trio of this 
 pair of friends. I cannot pass over this first men- 
 tion of Major Noel's name without a grateful recol- 
 lection of all he was to my aunt for the rest of 
 her life, or at least till the last few years of her 
 life, when she voluntarily resigned, for a sad reason 
 that will be explained later, the friendship which 
 had been a source of so much pleasure to her. He 
 and his wife were as brother and sister to her ; 
 constant friends, as friends are seldom found ; full of 
 sympathy in all the changes of her lot ; helping and 
 helped in perfect mutual confidence and depend- 
 
 1 Burlowe died in Rome of cholera in 1837, owing his death to his 
 indefatigable care of others during the epidemic. 
 
 F
 
 66 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 ence ; sharing such secrets as she had, appreciating 
 and believing in her always. The survivors now 
 are as faithful to her memory as they were to herself 
 throughout her life. Her letters to this kind pair of 
 friends have furnished, as will be seen, a large portion 
 of the most interesting material I have had at my 
 disposal. 
 
 Mr. Noel had lived some time in Germany, and 
 was able to offer very acceptable information, as 
 well as numerous letters of introduction. It must 
 have been soon after her arrival that the fol- 
 lowing passage occurs in one of her early letters to 
 him: 
 
 I intend to work very hard at German. Till I can obtain 
 a command of the language, I am ' cribbed, cabined, con- 
 fined ; ' I can do nothing. I was enchanted when I read 
 the name of Tieck in your letter. He has identified him- 
 self with our Shakespeare, and his name and fame are so 
 familiar to me, and associated with so many dear pursuits 
 and intimate feelings, that instead of saying, like most 
 people, ' I must learn German to read Schiller to read 
 Goethe,' I have always said ' I must learn German to read 
 Tieck.' He appears to me one of the least translatable of 
 the German authors of celebrity. 
 
 After these words of enthusiasm it is natural 
 that her introduction to Tieck should have been one 
 of the interesting points in her expedition. She 
 gives a description of it in the ' Visits and Sketches/ 
 in which she speaks of him as having succeeded at
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 67 
 
 the death of Goethe ' to the vacant throne of 
 genius.' ' His house in the Altmarkt,' she adds, 
 ' the tall red house at the south-west corner, is the 
 resort of all the enlightened strangers who flock to 
 Dresden ; even those who know nothing of Tieck 
 but his name, deem an introduction to him as indis- 
 pensable as a visit to the Madonna di San Sisto.' 
 And here is the record of her own visit to him : 
 
 It was with some trepidation that I found myself in the 
 presence of this extraordinary man. Notwithstanding his 
 profound knowledge of our language, he rarely spoke Eng- 
 lish, and, like Alfieri, he will not speak French. I addressed 
 him in English, and he spoke to me in German. The con- 
 versation in my first visit fell, very naturally, upon Shake- 
 speare, for I had been looking over his admirable new trans- 
 lation of 'Macbeth,'- which he had just completed. ' Macbeth' 
 led us to the English theatre and English acting to Mrs. 
 Siddons and the Kembles, and the actual character and 
 state of our stage. While he spoke I could not help looking 
 at his head, which is wonderfully fine : the noble breadth 
 and amplitude of his brow, and his quiet but penetrating 
 eye, with an expression of latent humour hovering round 
 the lips, formed altogether a striking physiognomy. . . . His 
 manner is courteous, and his voice peculiarly sweet and 
 winning. He is apparently fond of the society of women, 
 or the women are fond of his society, for in the evening his 
 rooms are generally crowded with fair worshippers. . . . 
 Tieck's extraordinary talent for reading aloud is much and 
 deservedly celebrated. He gives dramatic readings two or 
 three times a week when his health and his avocations allow 
 this exertion. The company assemble at six, and it is 
 advisable to be punctual to the moment : soon afterwards 
 
 F 2
 
 68 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 tea is served, and he begins to read at seven precisely, 
 when the doors are closed against all intrusion whatever, 
 and he reads through a whole play without pause, rest, 
 omission, or interruption. Thus I heard him read ' Julius 
 Caesar" and the ' Midsummer Night's Dream' (in the German 
 translation by himself and Schlegel), and, except Mrs. 
 Siddons, I never heard anything comparable as dramatic 
 reading. His voice is rich and capable of great variety of 
 modulation. I observed that the humorous and declama- 
 tory passages were rather better than the pathetic and 
 tender passages : he was quite at home among the elves 
 and clowns in the ' Midsummer Night's Dream,' of which he 
 gave the fantastic and comic parts with indescribable 
 humour and effect. As to the translation I could only 
 judge of its marvellous fidelity which enabled me to follow 
 him word for word ; but the Germans themselves are 
 equally enchanted by its vigour and elegance and poetical 
 colouring. 
 
 I must pause here, at the risk of breaking for a 
 moment the thread of my narrative, to note a curious 
 little memento of this intercourse which exists, 
 of all places in the world, in the British Museum, 
 where may be found (though how it got there I have 
 not an idea) the copy of Mrs. Jameson's ' Characteris- 
 tics of Women ' presented by the authoress to Ludwig 
 Tieck, with pencil notes on the margins evincing the 
 careful perusal given to the volume by the great 
 German critic, and on the first fly-leaf the following 
 in his own somewhat crabbed German text : 
 
 Dieses Buch ist mir von der Verfasserinn im Winter des 
 Jahres 1833 gesandt worden. Wegen einer Anmerkung
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 69 
 
 die mich betrifft (torn. ii. p. 312), war sie in Verlegenheit, 
 und sie hatte ein Blatt iiber diese Stelle geleimt. Meine 
 Neugier war so ungeschickt, dass sie im Ablosen die An- 
 merkung selbst fast ganz zerstorte. Um so sonderbarer, 
 weil gerade meine Ansicht iiber Lady Macbeth ganz mit 
 der verstandigen Verfasserinn (gegen Gothe und die meisten 
 Critiken) iibereintrifft. L. Tieck. 
 
 (Trans.) This book was sent me by the authoress in 
 the winter of the year 1833. In consequence of a remark 
 concerning me (vol. ii. page 312)' she had felt somewhat 
 embarrassed, and had pasted a piece of paper over this por- 
 tion of the page. My curiosity, however, was so awkward 
 that, in endeavouring to remove the paper, I destroyed the 
 remark itself. And this fact is the more singular, since my 
 opinion regarding Lady Macbeth entirely coincides with 
 that of the intelligent authoress, in opposition to that of 
 Goethe and most other critics. 
 
 But Tieck's marginal notes on the pages delineat- 
 ing the character of Ophelia show that he did not 
 always agree with the views taken by the ' verstan- 
 dige Verfasserinn.' At page 257, where the text 
 runs thus : ' The affection of the Queen for this 
 gentle and innocent creature is one of those beauti- 
 ful redeeming touches, one of those penetrating 
 glances into the secret springs of natural and femi- 
 nine feeling, which we find only in Shakespeare. 
 Gertrude, who is not so wholly abandoned but that 
 
 1 A foot-note saying : ' The German critic, Tieck, also leans to this 
 harsher opinion, judging rather from the manner in which the charac- 
 ter is usually played in Germany than from its intrinsic and poetical 
 construction.'
 
 70 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 there remains within her heart some sense of the 
 virtue she has forfeited, seems to look with a kind 
 yet melancholy complacency on the lovely being she 
 has destined for the bride of her son ; and the scene 
 in which she is introduced as scattering flowers on 
 the grave of Ophelia is one of those effects of con- 
 trast in poetry, in character, and in feeling, at once 
 natural and unexpected, which fill the eye, and make 
 the heart swell and tremble within itself, like the night- 
 ingales singing in the grove of the Furies, in Sopho- 
 cles ' in this passage Tieck has underscored the 
 words ' destined for the bride of her son,' and passed 
 his sentence on the whole thus : ' Dies scheint mir 
 ganz missverstanden.' ' Etwa der Worte wegen die 
 die Koniginn auf dem Kirchhof spricht ? Es sind 
 nur Worte ; Trostworte des Laertes wegen.' On 
 the next page at the words, ' So that, when she is 
 brought to court, she seems, in her loveliness and per- 
 fect purity, like a seraph that had wandered out of 
 bounds, and yet breathed on earth the air of Para- 
 dise/ the commentator puts against them a double 
 score and quite an angry little note of interroga- 
 tion ! At page 272, where Mrs. Jameson, after 
 giving her reasons, says : ' And therefore do I think 
 that the mighty intellect, the capacious, soaring, 
 penetrating genius of Hamlet may be represented, 
 without detracting from its grandeur, as reposing 
 upon the tender virgin innocence of Ophelia, with all
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 71 
 
 that deep delight with which a superior nature con- 
 templates the goodness which is at once perfect in 
 itself, and of itself unconscious' Tieck has under- 
 lined the words ' virgin innocence,' and placed two 
 of his interrogations. At the foot of page 274, 
 where Hamlet's madness is thus closely analysed with 
 reference specially to his love for Ophelia : ' We do 
 not see him as a lover, nor as Ophelia first beheld 
 him ; for the days when he importuned her with love 
 were before the opening of the drama before his 
 father's spirit revisited the earth ; but we behold him 
 at once in a sea of troubles, of perplexities,, of agonies, 
 of terrors. Without remorse, he endures all its 
 horrors ; without guilt, he endures all its shame. A 
 loathing of the crime he is called on to revenge, which 
 revenge is again abhorrent to his nature, has set him 
 at strife with himself ; the supernatural visitation has 
 perturbed his soul to its inmost depths ; all things 
 else, all interests, all hopes, all affections, appear as 
 futile, when the majestic shadow comes lamenting 
 from its place of torment " to shake him with thoughts 
 beyond the reaches of his soul." His love for 
 Ophelia is then ranked by himself among those 
 trivial fond records which he has deeply sworn to 
 erase from his heart and brain. He has no thought 
 to link his terrible destiny with hers : he cannot 
 marry her ; he cannot reveal to her, young, gentle, 
 innocent as she is, the terrific influences which have
 
 72 ''-/ ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 changed the whole current of his life and purposes. 
 In his distraction he overacts the painful part to 
 which he had tasked himself : he is like that judge of 
 the Areopagus, who, being occupied with graver 
 matters, flung from him the little bird which had 
 sought refuge in his bosom, and that with such angry 
 violence that unwittingly he killed it ' at the foot 
 of this page we read, ' Hier alles oberst lacherlich.' 
 
 I do not know whether Mrs. Jameson was aware 
 of the existence of this copy of her book, in its 
 quaint green and gold German binding, of a fashion 
 prevalent in Germany half a century ago, on the 
 shelves of the national library. 
 
 The same kind of human interest, more lasting 
 and more varied than that called forth by art itself, 
 is again thrown round the city of Dresden, in which 
 the traveller had already seen Tieck and described 
 him. for her readers, by a very lively and animated 
 description of the painter Retzsch, whom she de- 
 scribes as ' this extraordinary genius.' He was one 
 of the many interesting people to whom she was 
 introduced by Mr. Noel. 
 
 The professor received us in a room which appeared to 
 answer many purposes, being obviously a sleeping as well 
 as a sitting room, but perfectly neat He received us with 
 open-hearted frankness, at the same time throwing on the 
 stranger one of those quick glances which seemed to look 
 through me ; in return I contemplated him with inexpres- 
 sible interest. His figure is rather larger and more portly
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 73 
 
 than I expected, but I admired his fine Titanic head, so 
 large and sublime in its expression ; his light blue eye, wild 
 and wide, which seemed to drink in meaning and flash out 
 light ; his hair profuse, grizzled, and flowing in masses 
 round his head ; and his expanded brow full of poetry and 
 power. In his deportment he is a mere child of nature, 
 simple, careless, saying just what he feels and thinks at the 
 moment, without regard to forms, yet pleasing from the 
 benevolent earnestness of his manner and intuitively polite 
 without being polished. He seems to have received from 
 Nature a double portion of the inventive faculty, that rarest 
 of all her good gifts, even to those who are her especial 
 favourites. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson goes on to describe at length various 
 studies which she saw in his studio and sketch-books: 
 one, ' an angel smiling,' a ' most lovely head in which 
 the radiant spirit of joy seems to beam from every 
 feature at once enough to exorcise a whole legion 
 of blue devils ; ' another, ' a wondrous face which 
 made me shrink back, not from terror, for it was per- 
 fectly beautiful, but with awe ' this was the angel of 
 death ; and an infinite collection besides. ' If any 
 one succeeds,' she exclaims with enthusiasm, ' in 
 embodying the idea of a Miranda, a Caliban, a 
 Titania, and the poetical burlesque of the Athenian 
 clowns, it will be Retzsch, whose genius embraces 
 at once the grotesque, the comic, the wild, the won- 
 derful, the fanciful, the elegant.' 
 
 She then proceeds to tell her readers of a visit 
 paid some time after to Retzsch's country-house :
 
 74 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 Retzsch, who had perceived our approach, came out to 
 meet us, took me under his arm as though we had been 
 friends of twenty years' standing, and, leading me into his 
 picturesque domicile, introduced me to his wife, as pretty a 
 piece of domestic poetry as one shall see on a summer's 
 day. She was the daughter of a vinedresser whom Retzsch 
 fell in love with while she was yet almost a child, and edu- 
 cated for his wife at least so runs the tale. At the first 
 glance I detected the original of that countenance which, 
 more or less idealised, runs through all his representations 
 of female youth and beauty ; here was the model both in 
 feature and expression. She smiled upon us a most cor- 
 dial welcome, regaled us with delicious coffee and cakes 
 prepared by herself, then taking up her knitting sat down 
 beside us, and while I turned over admiringly the beautiful 
 designs with which her husband had decorated her album 
 the looks of veneration and love with which she regarded 
 him, and the expression of kindly delighted sympathy with 
 which she smiled upon me, I shall not easily forget. As 
 for the album itself, queens might have envied her such 
 homage, and what would not a dilettante collector have 
 given for such a possession ! After spending three or four 
 hours delightfully, we drove home in silence by the gleaming 
 murmuring river, and beneath the light of the silent stars. 
 On a subsequent visit Retzsch showed me many more of 
 these delicious phantasies, or fancies, as he called them, or, 
 more truly, little pieces of moral or lyrical poetry thrown 
 into palpable form, speaking in the universal language of 
 the eye to the universal heart of man. I endeavoured to 
 persuade Retzsch that he could not do better than publish 
 some of these exquisite Fancies, and when I left him he 
 entertained the idea of doing so at some future period. To 
 adopt his own language, the Genius of Art could not pre- 
 sent to the Genius of Humanity a more delightful and a 
 more profitable gift.
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 75 
 
 Tieck and Retzsch were not, however, the only 
 notable persons she encountered on this journey 
 whose names naturally occur here, as furnishing 
 the most pleasant recollections of it. Frankfort, 
 which she describes in one sentence as ' a vision of 
 dirty streets, chilly houses, dull shops, dingy-looking 
 Jews, dripping umbrellas, luxurious hotels, and exor- 
 bitant charges,' soon became, on closer inspection, ' on 
 the outside at least, fair, substantial, and consistent.' 
 And it is easy to perceive how the transformation 
 was effected by gradual acquaintance with the place ; 
 its charities, several of which are fully and sympathe- 
 tically described ; its theatre, where she first saw, 
 among others, Mme. Schroeder Devrient, for whom 
 she conceived a great admiration ; its treasures of 
 art, and its artists. Among her sketches of these, 
 none is so interesting as that of Dannecker and 
 her personal meetings with him. After having dis- 
 cussed his famous ' Ariadne,' she gives a description 
 of his less well known statue of the Redeemer. 
 
 This was standing in his workroom when we paid our 
 first visit to him. He told me what I had often heard, 
 that the figure had visited him in a dream there several 
 times, and the good old man firmly believed that he had 
 been divinely inspired and predestined to the work. While 
 the visionary image was fresh in his imagination, he first 
 executed a small clay model, and placed it before a child 
 of five or six years old : there were none of the usual 
 emblematical accompaniments no cross, no crown of
 
 76 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 thorns to assist the fancy nothing but the simple figure 
 roughly modelled ; yet the child immediately exclaimed, 
 ' The Redeemer ! ' and Dannecker was confirmed in his 
 design. Gradually the completion of this statue became 
 the engrossing idea of his enthusiastic mind : for eight 
 years it was his dream by night, his thought by day ; all 
 things else, all the affairs and duties of life, merged into 
 this. He told me that he frequently felt as if pursued, 
 excited by some strong irresistible power, which would even 
 visit him in sleep and impel him to rise from his bed and 
 work. He explained to me some of the difficulties he 
 encountered, and which he was persuaded he had perfectly 
 overcome only through Divine aid and the constant study 
 of the Scriptures. ... I shall not easily forget the coun- 
 tenance of the good and gifted old man, as leaning on the 
 pedestal, with his cap in his hand, and his long grey hair 
 waving round his face, he looked up at his work with a 
 mixture of reverence and admiration, saying in his im- 
 perfect and scarcely intelligible French r ' Oui, quand on a 
 fait comme cela, on reste sur la terre ! ' meaning, I suppose, 
 that this statue had insured his immortality on earth. He 
 added : ' They ask me often where are the models after 
 which I worked, and I answer " Here, and here" ' laying his 
 hand first on his head, then on his heart. 
 
 Interesting, however, as these sketches are, they 
 do not glow with the same warm enthusiasm which 
 we find in the following tribute to a friend who was 
 henceforward to be one of the dearest friends of her 
 life. When Mr. Noel met Mrs. Jameson in the course 
 of that summer in Weimar, he made her acquainted 
 with the family of Goethe, and with most of the 
 distinguished members of the brilliant society then
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 77 
 
 forming the little court of the Grand Duke Ernest 
 Augustus. Again it is in the ' Visits and Sketches ' 
 that we find the most distinct references to this 
 visit and the friends she then made ; especially the 
 one friend, the always dear, admired, and beloved 
 Ottilie, in whom and in whose concerns she took the 
 interest of a sister, almost of a lover, for all the rest 
 of her life. Our extract begins with a reference 
 to Mrs. Austin's ' Characteristics of Goethe.' Mrs. 
 Jameson says : 
 
 I came upon a passage which sent back my thoughts to 
 Weimar. I was again in Goethe's house ; the faces, the 
 voices of his grandchildren were around me ; the room in 
 which he studied, the bed in which he slept, the old chair 
 in which he died, and, above all, her in whose arms he died, 
 from whose lips I heard the detail of his last moments. . . . 
 I thought of the daughter-in-law of the poet, the trusted 
 friend, the constant companion, the devoted and careful 
 nurse of his last years. 
 
 Going on to account for the influence this be- 
 loved Ottilie possessed not over, but in, his affec- 
 tions, she writes : 
 
 In her he found truly eine Natur, a piece of nature 
 which could bear even his microscopic examination. Con- 
 ceive a woman, a young, accomplished, enthusiastic woman, 
 who had qualities to attach, talents to amuse, and capa- 
 city to appreciate Goethe ; who for fourteen or fifteen 
 years could exist in daily, hourly communication with 
 that gigantic spirit, yet retain, from first to last, the most 
 perfect simplicity of character, and this less from the
 
 78 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 strength than from the purity and delicacy of the original 
 texture. Those oft-abused words, naive, naivett, were more 
 applicable to her in their fullest sense than to any other 
 woman I ever met with. . . . Quick in perception yet 
 femininely confiding, uniting a sort of restless vivacity with 
 an indolent gracefulness, she appeared to me by far the 
 most poetical and genuine being of my own sex I ever 
 knew in highly cultivated life one to whom no wrong 
 could teach mistrust, no injury bitterness ; one to whom 
 the commonplace realities, the vulgar necessary cares of 
 existence, were but too indifferent ; who was in reality all 
 that other women try to appear, and betrayed with a care- 
 less independence what they most wish to conceal. 
 
 The attachment that sprang up rapidly between 
 Goethe's fascinating daughter-in-law and the ' Hebe 
 Anna' never thenceforth, though put to severest 
 proof, suffered coldness or change. They were dear 
 friends for nearly thirty years, maintaining, through 
 long periods of separation, a faithful correspondence 
 and renewing personal intercourse whenever and 
 wherever possible in Weimar itself, or in Vienna, 
 Dresden, Venice, Rome, wherever Anna could give 
 or accept a rendezvous with Ottilie. 
 
 To return to the time when this acquaintance 
 was yet in its infancy. I quote next from a letter 
 to Mr. Noel, dated Weimar, June 27, 1833. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR, It is a pleasure I cannot deny myself 
 no less than a debt of gratitude to you to write these few 
 lines from Weimar. I must thank you in the first place 
 for the kind and cordial reception I have met with. Your
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 79 
 
 charming friend Mme. de Goethe received me almost with 
 open arms, and from Dr. Froriep and his amiable wife and 
 daughters I have met with the utmost politeness and atten- 
 tion. I am on the most easy terms with them all, and feel 
 as if I had known them months instead of only a few days. 
 I think that much of this is owing to you, to the kind 
 manner in which you have spoken of me, and to the kind 
 feeling you have yourself inspired here, which has ap- 
 parently stamped a more than ordinary value upon your 
 approbation. I have seen as much of Weimar, of its 
 gardens, environs, library, &c., as could possibly be accom- 
 plished in five days, and I need hardly tell you that I have 
 been pleased with all I have seen. After this exordium 
 you will perhaps start to hear that I am on the point of 
 leaving Weimar, although I have not yet spent a week here. 
 The fact is that Mme. de Goethe has persuaded me to 
 accompany her on a tour to Frankfort and the Rhine. 
 There is a pleasant party arranged, and many reasons to 
 determine me. The opportunity of improving my acquaint- 
 ance with Mme. de Goethe is one, and my sister's 1 grati- 
 fication is another. She will be obliged to return to England 
 before I do, and I have promised to show her the Rhine. 
 My intention is to return to Weimar after visiting the south 
 of Germany and Vienna. 
 
 On September 5 Mrs. Jameson wrote to her 
 father from Frankfort, and mentioned her latest 
 news from her husband, in a letter giving at the 
 same time, amid all the warmth and affectionate 
 effusiveness of her friendships, a strange glimpse 
 into the melancholy chill and frost with which her 
 
 1 Charlotte, the youngest sister, had accompanied her to Germany.
 
 8o ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 warm heart was bound in the closest relationship of 
 life. 
 
 MY DEAREST FATHER, -I have the opportunity of send- 
 ing a letter free ; I hope it will reach you safely and soon. 
 I found at Mannheim a letter from Canada, as usual very 
 well written, very cold and very vague. I do not think he 
 is disappointed in his office. He had seen the Almas, 
 who are flourishing ; he has stood godfather to Emily's 
 youngest son ; his books and papers have been ship- 
 wrecked, which is a real misfortune and no small expense. 
 He has not seen the Falls of Niagara. He finds a party 
 ready formed against him ; but the popular opinion is for 
 him, being considered a Whig official. No Solicitor-General 
 is yet appointed, so that a double weight of duty falls upon 
 him, and he was just going on the circuit (of more than a 
 thousand miles). This is the epitome of his letter. 
 
 Two days later she wrote in a tender, playful 
 spirit, to the dear little sister Charlotte who had 
 accompanied her abroad, but whose return home 
 previously to herself was alluded to in her letter to 
 Mr. Noel : 
 
 MY DEAR CHARLOTTE, I have not your letter here 
 with me, to look it over and answer it at full length. I 
 can but thank you for it, dear, and tell you how I have 
 missed you since we parted. I returned to Bonn almost 
 ill with fatigue after two days and one night on board the 
 steamboat. Schlegel became very amiable before I left 
 Bonn, and they tell me it was a complete conquest. Pity I 
 am married ! for certainly his stars and his ribbons are 
 very becoming, and as for his wig I think he only wears 
 one in imitation of his Jupiter. In short, he talked of 
 Mme. de Stae'l and Bernadotte and Sanscrit, till I
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 81 
 
 found him quite captivating. I found, on my return to 
 Bonn, two letters from Mme. de Goethe, whom I had 
 accused wrongfully of not writing. I am now staying with 
 her for a few days, and find her just the same as ever. 
 You should have heard her description of Lady Morgan's 
 visit, and of the latter's addressing her in French. 1 ' Ach 
 mein Gott ! if she would have said to me " OisJilamachree" 
 I would have embraced her ! ' 
 
 There I became acquainted with the celebrated Schlegel, 
 or, I should rather say, M. le Chevalier de Schlegel, for I 
 believe his titles and his ' starry honours ' are not indif- 
 ferent to him ; and in truth he wears them very gracefully. 
 I was rather surprised to find in this sublime and eloquent 
 critic, this awful scholar, whose comprehensive mind has 
 grasped the whole universe of art, a most lively, agreeable, 
 social being. Of the judgments passed on him in his own 
 country I know little and understand less ; I am not deep 
 in German literary polemics. To me he was the author 
 of the lectures on Dramatic Literature, and the translator 
 of Shakespeare, and moreover all that was amiable and 
 polite. 
 
 For my own part I would rather hear him talk of 
 Romeo and Juliet, and of Mme. de Stael, than of the 
 Ramayana, the Bhagvat-Gita, or even the ' Eastern Con- 
 fut-yee.' This, of course, is only a proof of my own 
 ignorance. Conversation may be compared to a lyre with 
 seven chords philosophy, art, poetry, politics, love, scandal, 
 and the weather. There are some professors who, like 
 Paganini, 'can discourse most eloquent music 'upon one 
 
 1 Mme. de Goethe held the French in hereditary hatred. Her 
 mother had been one of the ladies-in-waiting of Queen Louise of 
 Pruss ia.
 
 82 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 string only, and some who can grasp the whole instrument, 
 and with a master's hand sound it from the top to the 
 bottom of its compass. Now, Schlegel is one of the latter : 
 he can thunder in the bass or caper in the treble ; he can 
 be a whole concert in himself. No man can trifle like 
 him, nor, like him, blend in a few hours' converse the critic, 
 philologist, poet, philosopher, and man of the world ; no 
 man narrates more gracefully, or more happily illustrates 
 a casual thought. He told me many interesting things. 
 ' Do you know,' said he, one morning, as I was looking at 
 a beautiful edition of ' Corinne,' bound in red morocco, 
 the gift of Mme. de Stael ' do you know that I figure 
 in that book ? ' I asked eagerly, in what character ? He 
 bade me guess. I guessed playfully, the Comte d'Erfeuil. 
 ' No ! no ! ' said he, laughing ; ' I am immortalised in the 
 Prince Castel Forte, the faithful, humble, unaspiring friend 
 of Corinne.' 
 
 From Frankfort Mrs. Jameson started, shortly 
 after this date, on the tour through Southern Ger- 
 many to which she had long been looking forward ; 
 and from Munich she writes to her father on 
 October 15 : 
 
 The accounts I have from dear Louisa this day of 
 your better health and spirits and constant occupation 
 are a great happiness to me. . . . Munich is the most 
 beautiful city I ever saw except Florence ; but I have 
 suffered so much here that I shall leave it without regret. 
 Dr. Martins tells me that almost all foreigners do suffer 
 more or less. The cold is so intense at times, and the air 
 so oppressive, that I long to fly across the Alps. In three 
 days I could be at Milan, in four at Venice ! The very 
 idea of sunning myself under an Italian sky, though only
 
 AFTER MARRIAGE. 83 
 
 for a few hours, is a great temptation. But all my pursuits 
 and plans carry me to the North once more, and I shall 
 set off for Dresden in a few days, where I am told that I 
 shall be fcttfc, that is, welcomed like a princess. You can 
 follow me on the map from Munich to Salzburg, to Linz, 
 to Prague, to Dresden. God bless you all ! I must stop. 
 
 But a heavy blow was already pending ; a sud- 
 den and most unlooked-for sorrow came barely one 
 month later, that put a stop to the pleasant German 
 wanderings and summoned the loving daughter 
 home to watch by what it was apprehended might be 
 her father's death-bed. In the month of November 
 Mr. Murphy had a severe paralytic seizure, and in 
 those days of slow communication and slow travel- 
 ling Mrs. Jameson was in an agony of fear lest she 
 should arrive too late. At one of her few resting- 
 places during that sad journey home, she com- 
 menced a letter to Mr. Noel, then in Dresden, in- 
 tending to finish it after her arrival in England : 
 
 For (she writes) it is due to you, my kind friend, to 
 let you know as soon as possible of my safe arrival, and 
 yet I am haunted by the fearful idea of what may await 
 me there to prevent my writing to you. God knows, I 
 try to keep my hopes in equipoise with my fears, and I 
 have hitherto been strong ; but I begin to sink a little and 
 to feel weak. I wrote you a few lines from Weimar, and I 
 remember that at the conclusion I told you that Ottilie 
 was half asleep on the sofa, and as she answered me drow- 
 sily, I thought she was so. I was wrong ; when I went 
 over to her, I found her weeping quiet silent tears. Dear 
 
 G 2
 
 84 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 Ottilie ! with what impatient grief, what bitter regret, I 
 parted from her ! O Noel ! I am at this moment very 
 unhappy, and in many ways unfortunate. To think of all 
 I leave all I may meet, all I must meet ! But I will bear 
 up, for both thought and action will be needed. 
 
 Later on in this long and interesting letter, after 
 messages to dear mutual friends in Dresden, Mrs. 
 Jameson tells her correspondent the thrilling tale 
 told her the previous evening by a young girl, 
 Betty von Ambos, her temporary fellow-traveller. 
 This story appears at the close of the introduction 
 to the ' Visits and Sketches.' A few lines from 
 London conclude the letter thus : 
 
 I arrived here yesterday, and found my dear father 
 considerably better. His speech has returned, and he is 
 beginning to recover the use of his arm. Such a gleam of 
 joy came over his pale face when he saw me my mother 
 tells me so continually how he has been pining for my re- 
 turn, and how my presence will contribute to his recovery 
 I feel so convinced that I have done right in coming, that 
 I cannot repent it. But my reason tells me that I have 
 done no real and effectual good, and can do none ; there- 
 fore I repent it. When I think of all I have left, and all 
 the consequences which may attend my precipitate return, 
 I could sit down and wring my hands ; but as that will do 
 no good, I think it better to use them to some purpose. 
 The physicians agree that my father is recovering as well 
 and as quickly as could be expected. I had prepared 
 myself for the worst, so that my spirits are comparatively 
 light.
 
 MIDDLE LIFE. 85 
 
 f 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MIDDLE LIFE. 
 
 MR. MURPHY was never restored to health after 
 this alarming attack, but he rallied for the time and 
 lived for some years in a semi-paralysed condition ; 
 so that after the alarm the family soon settled into 
 something of their former tranquillity. 
 
 After the departure of her husband, in 1 833, for 
 his distant appointment, Mrs. Jameson had con- 
 tinued to make the house of her sister her home, 
 and hither she returned when summoned from Ger- 
 many. Still in the prime of life, and in so many 
 ways adapted to shine in society, she soon found her- 
 self with more engagements on her hands than she 
 cared to fulfil, and in risk of having her time frit- 
 tered away by the unprofitable success of London 
 drawing-rooms. Her father's invalid condition, how- 
 ever, occupied a great deal of her attention, and she 
 had already begun to bestow all the tenderness of a 
 mother upon her sister Louisa's eldest child, the 
 only one of the second generation then existing a 
 tenderness most enlightened and anxious, which
 
 86 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 ended only with her life. Thus, though separated 
 from her husband and childless in her own person, 
 she lived amid the fondest family ties, and had all 
 her affections in exercise to keep in check those 
 allurements of society which, seductive as they are, 
 were never much to her mind. The first literary 
 work which she seems to have undertaken after her 
 return to England was the collecting and revising 
 of a series of essays on various subjects which had 
 already been published, but which Messrs. Saunders 
 & Ottley wished to republish in a more durable 
 form. These extended to four volumes, brought 
 out, under the title of ' Visits and Sketches,' in 
 the year 1834, and from which I have largely 
 quoted in the previous chapter. The topics were 
 of the most varied kind, ranging from descriptive 
 sketches of German society and biographies of dis- 
 tinguished Germans such as those from which 
 extracts have been given to a sketch of the 
 families of Hardwick and Stanhope in commemo- 
 ration of visits paid to the chief residences of either 
 family ; and, again, to a dissertation upon the 
 genius of Mrs. Siddons. Included among these 
 was a new edition of the ' Diary of an Ennuyde! 
 It is a sufficient proof of the popularity Mrs. 
 Jameson's works had attained, that her publishers 
 should have suggested such a collection so early in 
 her literary career. Mrs. Jameson herself explains
 
 MIDDLE LIFE. 87 
 
 in her preface that though she had ' other and par- 
 ticular objects in view which still keep full possession 
 of my mind, and which have been suspended, 
 not without reluctance, in order to prepare these 
 volumes for the press,' she had found, on her re- 
 turn to England after her recent continental ex- 
 pedition, ' that many particulars which had excited 
 my interest with regard to the relative state of art 
 and social existence ' (in Germany) ' appeared new 
 to those with whom I conversed ; ' which was her 
 chief inducement 'to throw into form the few 
 simple memoranda I had made on the spot.' These 
 memoranda, expanded into sketches descriptive and 
 biographic, occupied the first two volumes of the 
 collection ; and as comparatively little was known 
 of Germany at that period, when none of the 
 modern facilities of travel existed, and when tra- 
 vellers were comparatively few, and these almost 
 exclusively of the wealthy classes it vyill be under- 
 stood how interesting to many were the graphic and 
 refined yet simple descriptions of German life from 
 many different points of view its picture galleries, 
 its courts, its quiet homes, its artists and theatres, 
 all so unexplored and little understood by insular 
 readers. About the same time Mr. Carlyle was 
 awakening the interest of the reading world in 
 German literature, and setting up that Goethe wor- 
 ship of which he has been the first and greatest
 
 88 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 preacher. What these pioneers have done cannot 
 be repeated. ' Faust ' has been reproduced for us in 
 a hundred translations, and no traveller now would 
 venture to dwell, as Mrs. Jameson does, upon his 
 feelings in the presence of the Madonna of San 
 Sisto, which all his acquaintances have seen as well 
 as himself, and of which we have all heard the divine 
 pre-eminence contemptuously disparaged. But in 
 1834 things were very different, and Mrs. Jameson's 
 modest book opened the breadth of Germany and 
 its yet untrodden ways to many readers as unable 
 to go thither in their own persons as they were un- 
 prepared to judge and justly estimate the treasures 
 of art to be set before them there. The author 
 expresses in her preface her * earnest hope that what 
 has been written in perfect simplicity of heart may 
 be perused, both by my English and German 
 friends particularly the artists with indulgence ; 
 that those who read and doubt may be awakened 
 to enquiry, and those who read and believe may be 
 led to reflection ; and that those who differ from 
 and those who agree with the writer may both find 
 some interest and amusement in the literal truth of 
 the facts and impressions which she has ventured to 
 record.' 
 
 No one who reads these sketches will doubt 
 that she possessed a degree of knowledge of the 
 country through which she travelled, and its people,
 
 MIDDLE LIFE. 89 
 
 much surpassing anything which was usual then, or is 
 usual now, with all our external advantages, and was 
 thus qualified to guide her special audience through 
 many an interesting scene. There will also be 
 found in these modest volumes suggestions and 
 anticipations of literary subjects which have since 
 been carried out in works that have acquired lasting 
 fame. There is the story of the ' Niebelungen Lied,' 
 before Carlyle had expounded it to the English 
 world ; and of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, before 
 Montalembert brought out all the more exquisite 
 lights of history to transform that legend ; besides 
 many indications of the author's own gradually de- 
 veloping taste, and the unconscious currents of in- 
 fluence which led her to the chief works of her life. 
 
 This republication, however, seems to have been 
 the only work in which she was engaged at the 
 time, occupied as she was with domestic and with 
 social engagements. That she was not satisfied 
 with this partial inactivity is very apparent from her 
 letter to Mr. Noel, dated from London, January 24, 
 1834: 
 
 For myself I am leading that most abominable life a 
 life of laborious dissipation. I have suffered myself to be 
 entangled in the machinery of society, and am whirled 
 round as if I were bound upon the wheel of a steam- 
 engine. But it shall not last ! Shall I whisper something 
 to you ? I indulge a hope of revisiting Germany in the 
 spring. It depends on so many contingencies that I scarcely
 
 90 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 dare permit myself to dwell upon it. But if my letters 
 from Canada are definitive, if I can finish the printing of 
 my book, if I can so arrange my money matters as to per- 
 form what is right to others and spare something for 
 selfishness, then I shall spread my wings some time in 
 April or May, and you will see me alight on a spring 
 morning among my dear German friends, like a bird es- 
 caped from its cage, with its plumage ruffled and torn with 
 beating against the wires. I never liked London, and 
 now I hate it absolutely ; this kind of life is not made for 
 me, and solitude were not much better. If I do make my 
 escape, I think I will go to Weimar for a month or six 
 weeks and study German very very hard, and spend part 
 of my time with dear Ottilie ; thence I will go to Dresden 
 and to Vienna, but as yet all this is a mere dream. 
 
 Your description of Mme. Schroeder Devrient's dinner- 
 party is admirable. Do not lose sight of her, and, without 
 absolutely playing the moraliser and adviser, do what you 
 can to elevate and steady her mind. She wants self-respect, 
 and this is a dangerous deficiency where there is such an 
 excitable temperament. I have prepared one or two good 
 friends for her if she comes here ; Mrs. Austin is one. This 
 very remarkable woman has one of the largest and Jiealthiest 
 minds I ever met with in a person of my own sex ; she is 
 now translating Victor Cousin's reports on the system of 
 public education in Prussia, and this she is doing from 
 a pure feeling of duty, a real enthusiasm in the cause. 
 
 The lady referred to was one to whom Mrs. 
 Jameson had dedicated several pages in the volumes 
 above mentioned, describing her artistic gifts and 
 accomplishments with that invariable sympathy with 
 genius in all its forms which was one of her chief
 
 MIDDLE LIFE. 91 
 
 characteristics. ' Like other gifted women who are 
 blessed or cursed with a most irritable nervous 
 system,' she says, ' Devrient is a good deal under 
 the influence of feeling and temper, and in the per- 
 formance of her favourite parts is subject to in- 
 equalities which are not caprices, but arise from an 
 exuberance of soul and power, and only render her 
 performances more interesting.' And she adds, in 
 speaking of a special performance that of Romeo 
 in Bellini's opera ' There was a flush of poetry and 
 passion, a heart-breaking struggle of love and life 
 against an overwhelming destiny, which thrilled me. 
 Never did I hear anyone sing so completely from 
 her own soul as this astonishing creature ; in certain 
 tones and passages her voice issued from the depths 
 of her bosom, as if steeped in tears. . . . I was not 
 surprised to learn that Mme. Devrient is generally 
 ill after her performance, and unable to sing in this 
 part more than once or twice a week.' 
 
 A fortnight after the letter above quoted, Mr. 
 Noel received the following : 
 
 My poor father is worse again. He was bled yester- 
 day, and I greatly fear for him. I have other and peculiar 
 sources of grief, besides the uneasiness I feel about my 
 mother and sisters. Outwardly, I stand in the world an 
 enviable being, so at least everyone tells me ; inwardly, it 
 is a hard struggle. Of how many women might the his- 
 tory be comprised in those few words 'she lived, suf- 
 fered, and was buried ' !
 
 92 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 I do not like the book which my publishers, rather 
 than myself, will give to the world this collection of all 
 sorts of fugitive things never owned, and the Emmy fa in- 
 cluded. I have also written some slight sketches of the 
 comparative state of art in England and Germany. Had 
 I remained a month longer in Dresden, I would have made 
 this better ; but I have done what I could thrown out a 
 few thoughts which others must take up and improve. 
 This book, about which I care little, will subject me more 
 than any former one to angry criticism, because I see I 
 have just attained that point of reputation which, by 
 giving a certain weight to my opinions, will provoke con- 
 tradiction. So be it! However, I must tell you of one 
 thing which consoles me. The other day I had a pre- 
 sent of books and a letter from an unknown person in 
 America, telling me that they were printing the second 
 American edition of my writings. 
 
 Here is a chapter of egotism, my dear Noel ; and how 
 little I feel myself, compared to Harriet Martineau and 
 Mrs. Austin! 
 
 The chapter of egotism, innocent as it is, is very 
 soon, however, balanced by another letter, which 
 reveals to us one of those efforts of practical 
 help and kindness into which, when she had the 
 opportunity, she threw herself with her whole soul. 
 The reader will not have forgotten her description, 
 given in the previous chapter, of Moritz Retzsch, the 
 ' extraordinary genius ' whose outline illustrations of 
 Goethe, Schiller, Biirger, Shakespeare, &c., had 
 captivated all Germany by their wonderful fresh-
 
 MIDDLE LIFE. 93 
 
 ness, beauty, and ideal grace. Mrs. Jameson's 
 warm admiration and sympathy had not been con- 
 tent with a mere suggestion that these beautiful 
 sketches should not be lost to the English public. 
 She undertook to manage for Retzsch the publication 
 in England, finding the publisher, translating the 
 text, and herself adding an introduction to the 
 English reader, who had already been prepared by 
 her interesting sketch of the artist to give this 
 new volume a favourable reception. 
 
 MY DEAR NOEL, This is post-day, and late. I have 
 but a few minutes to write, but I think better not to delay 
 a moment the acknowledgment of Retzsch's copper-plates, 
 which arrived yesterday. Saunders & Ottley have by 
 this day's post sent off /o/., which will be paid to Morris 
 Retzsch on application to Bassange & Co., bankers in 
 Dresden. I hope he will be pleased. The certainty of 
 punctual pay and most honourable treatment must surely 
 be something in his estimation. Will you be so good as to 
 thank him for the beautiful little head he has sent me ? 
 it is charming. I am now going to set to work to trans- 
 late and explain, and do my best to set forth Retzsch's 
 merits most worthily, and Saunders & Ottley intend to 
 spare no expense in getting up the work in the most 
 elegant fashion. 
 
 You must forgive me, dear Noel, these few hurried 
 lines. When I tell you that the arrangement of my father's 
 affairs, and in some measure the providing for my poor 
 mother and my good sisters, has fallen to my lot ; and that 
 in the meantime, while my father has been helpless, my 
 mother has been dangerously ill ; and that it was necessary,
 
 94 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 in the midst of all this, to hurry forward the printing of 
 my poor little book, which will come into the world like a 
 premature child, if not still-bornthen you can believe 
 that for seven weeks I have never been in bed before 
 three or four in the morning, and am almost worn out. 
 
 Early in this year Mr. Noel had made Mrs. 
 Jameson acquainted with his cousin, Lady Byron, 
 than whom perhaps no woman has been more dis- 
 cussed in the world, with less satisfaction to her 
 critics. Mrs. Jameson's impression of her seems to 
 have been at first more in accordance with the 
 opinion entertained by the friends of the poet- hus- 
 band, than by the many enthusiasts who bestowed 
 upon Lady Byron's veiled but powerful character, 
 and many and liberal benevolences, a kind of wor- 
 ship. When asked, after their first interview, what 
 was the chief impression her new acquaintance had 
 made upon her, Mrs. Jameson replied at once, ' im- 
 placability.' This impression, however, must have 
 been merely temporary, for there soon arose a friend- 
 ship exceptionally warm and intimate between these 
 two ladies, which for many years pervaded the lives 
 of both, making them of one heart and mind, almost 
 of one being, so close, confidential, and unbroken was 
 their intercourse. The fact that it came at length 
 to a disastrous conclusion after nearly twenty years' 
 uninterrupted affection is one of the strangest of cala- 
 mities, and one of which I can offer only the briefest
 
 MIDDLE LIFE. 95 
 
 and most unsatisfactory explanation. But it is not 
 necessary to forestall the moment of that melancholy 
 breach. For the best part of a lifetime this friend- 
 ship was one of the greatest consolations and also 
 occupations of my aunt's existence. The acquaint- 
 ance made through Lady Byron with the then still 
 famed Joanna Baillie and her sister Agnes, ripened 
 into a friendship that continued up to the period of the 
 death of the venerable sisters. On her part, about this 
 time Mrs. Jameson brought Lady Byron acquainted 
 with one for whom she herself always professed 
 the warmest esteem and admiration. She introduced 
 to her Harriet Martineau. A slight allusion to this 
 occurs in a letter dated London, June 20 : 
 
 How I wish I could raise the mind of that sweet 
 , prostrated as it now is, to look fonvard for herself 
 
 and her fine children, particularly little - !' If God had 
 but given me children, I think I could have been blest. 
 Well, I must spare you all this egotism ; but as my thoughts 
 flow on, so does my pen. I introduced Harriet Martineau 
 
 to Lady Byron not long ago. As to Miss M , I have 
 
 seen her several times, but we are not destined to draw 
 nearer, and if she be your adversary, she is mine very surely. 
 I am going on Tuesday to spend the day at the Hanwell 
 Asylum, and shall see Lady Byron on my way. 1 Charles 
 Vogel, the painter at Dresden, is here ; he spent an evening 
 with me. I had Harriet Martineau, Mrs. Opie, and Mrs. 
 Austin, Hayward the famous German scholar, Briggs, 
 
 1 At Lady Byron's residence of Fordhook, between Acton and 
 Ealing.
 
 96 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 R.A., and Eastlake, R.A. two of our best painters and 
 an American, the most intimate friend of Dr. Channing. 
 
 I have a letter from Retzsch, which, if I did not make 
 allowance for the morbid tendencies of his character, would 
 give me much pain. He is discontented and disappointed ; 
 he does not acknowledge the receipt of the money, but 
 leaves me to infer that he has had it ; at the same time I 
 should not have supposed so but for your letter. He 
 seems to take the publication of his ' Fancies ' as an inflic- 
 tion from heaven, which he must bear with resignation ; 
 hopes nothing that is good, anticipates all that is dismal ; 
 and the very expression of his gratitude to me is so dismal, 
 I could smile if I were not so sorry for him. I shall go on 
 just as if he had not written. Perhaps he will be angry 
 that my preface is not an elaborate panegyric on him, 
 but that would have been bad taste in my capacity as 
 editor. 
 
 This is rather a painful commentary upon Mrs. 
 Jameson's previous sketch of Retzsch and her en- 
 thusiasm for him and efforts for his success ; but 
 gratitude is the most difficult of all sentiments, and 
 this is not a solitary instance of its failure. 
 
 The hope of returning to Germany, though not 
 carried out, as she had desired, in the spring of this 
 year of 1834, came to fruition later. Mrs. Jameson 
 writes, still in June, to Mr. Noel : 
 
 I cannot describe to you, my dear friend, with what 
 feelings I think of escaping from London. The whole 
 period since my return has been one of labour, distasteful 
 dissipation, and extreme sorrow. My poor father, though 
 in no danger now, is a miserable wreck ; all I could do for
 
 MIDDLE LIFE. 97 
 
 him in his present state is done, his affairs arranged, and 
 my mother's comfort provided for. I have nursed my poor 
 Louisa through her confinement ; it was a horrid period of 
 danger and agony, and she has not yet recovered the loss 
 of her child. How glad I shall be to leave her comfort- 
 ably by the sea-coast with her husband and little girl, and 
 fly off to forget for a few months "all this pain, and get 
 strength and cheerfulness to bear me through my future ! 
 That future! Never mind. We will have a ramble to- 
 gether, talk philosophy, enjoy the summer air and the 
 various face of ever lovely Nature and then to work 
 again. 
 
 About a month from the date of this letter, Mrs. 
 Jameson was able to carry out her cherished inten- 
 tion, and set out for Germany with the happiest 
 anticipations of a period of rest and refreshment 
 among her many friends. 
 
 This interval of rest, however, though full of 
 variety and pleasure, was soon disturbed by very evi- 
 dent symptoms of a crisis in her personal affairs. 
 Her anxiety about the future is apparent in the letter 
 just quoted, and by this time intimations began to 
 arrive from Canada, that Mr. Jameson was disposed 
 to insist upon the fulfilment of his wife's promise to 
 join him, and all her plans were thus thrown again 
 into confusion. This seems a harsh manner of an- 
 nouncing a husband's very natural desire to have his 
 wife with him ; but it is evident that there had been 
 no real union between them for any but a very short 
 
 H
 
 98 NNA JAMESON. 
 
 period, and after so much separation the bond that 
 held them to each other had become irksome per- 
 haps to both, certainly to the wife, whose patience 
 had been worn out by long waiting and many disap- 
 pointments. Mr. Jameson seems to have been one of 
 those strangely constituted persons to whom absence 
 is always necessary to reawaken affection, and who 
 prize what they are not in possession of, and habitually 
 slight and neglect what they have. At a distance 
 he was the most devoted and admiring of husbands, 
 but in the privacy of the domestic circle, cold, self- 
 absorbed, and unsympathetic, and his most affec 
 tionate phrases evidently inspired no confidence in the 
 bosom of the woman who had already believed and 
 trusted and been disappointed over and over again. 
 
 I have no desire to dwell in ungracious detail 
 upon the incompatibility which is so evident, which 
 does not appear to have involved any moral wrong, 
 but only a something persistently out of tune, a fun- 
 damental discord which was not to be set right. 
 Such cases are not uncommon in ordinary life, and 
 often produce nothing worse (if worse can be) than 
 a succession of family jars, and a chilled and un- 
 happy mingling of two existences between whom 
 there is little sympathy. Mrs. Jameson's independent 
 condition, the warm friends she had on all sides, and 
 the high estimation in which she was universally 
 held, and, on the other hand, the fact that her mar-
 
 MIDDLE LIFE. 99 
 
 riage was childless, and the strongest of all secondary 
 bonds non-existent, had no doubt a certain effect 
 upon her mind, and made her all the less willing to 
 revive an experiment which had already failed more 
 than once. She did not see it to be her duty to ex- 
 patriate herself, to give up all her occupations, in 
 which she was conscious of doing worthy work and 
 being of service to her generation all her friends, 
 her own family of whom she was the pride and 
 delight, to whom she was often the bread-winner, 
 always the consoler in order to share the life of a 
 cold and self-sufficing man, to whose happiness she 
 never seemed to be necessary except when the 
 Atlantic flowed between. She did not think it her 
 duty but once more she yielded in order to make 
 sure that no effort of hers had been wanting to make 
 reunion practicable. And perhaps some gleam of 
 better hope might flash across her mind by times 
 on the receipt of such letters as the following, dated 
 Toronto, October 30, 1834. Words such as those 
 with which it concludes, if believed in by the receiver, 
 would seem almost irresistibly persuasive : 
 
 I have not yet acknowledged the receipt of your last 
 letter, dated 4th July, which duly arrived. The tone is 
 more kind and cheering than some of its predecessors. I 
 hope you have received the money safe. I shall send the 
 second part of the bill on London to Henry, perhaps 
 by this packet. Dearest Anna, let me look forward to our 
 meeting with hope. Let me not lose the privilege of 
 
 H 2
 
 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 loving you, and the hope of being loved by you. Let me 
 come to my solitary home with the prospect that my daily 
 labours shall, before any very lengthened day of trial, be 
 rewarded by your presence and your most precious en- 
 dearments. I have no single hope that does not depend 
 on this one. Do not school your heart against me, and I 
 will compel you to love me. I have been fencing in my 
 nice little piece of ground on the banks of the lake, where 
 I am promising myself the happiness of building you a 
 pretty little villa after your own taste. I have set a man 
 to plant some trees and shrubs also, for the place was quite 
 denuded, though by far the finest situation in the town. 
 I have ground enough for a pretty extensive garden, nearly 
 three acres. 
 
 In a letter written the following spring, May 1835, 
 Mr. Jameson complains that he has not heard from 
 his wife for months not since a letter reached him 
 dated from Berlin in September, and received by him 
 shortly before Christmas. 
 
 A feast followed by a long, long Lent (he writes), 
 speaking of your intention to proceed to Vienna for the 
 winter, and probable return to England in the spring. 
 Where you have since been, or where you now are, I know 
 not, but I hope in England. Your letters, even more than 
 usually delightful, glitter throughout with such bright 
 names and proof of your high fame among your German 
 admirers, that I sometimes despond for your poor North 
 American savage. . . . My hopes of receiving you in a 
 house of your own have been for the present thwarted I 
 have not the requisite money. But I have the ground, 
 which I trust I shall not be driven to sacrifice, because I 
 should never meet with so pleasant a situation ; and before
 
 MIDDLE LIFE. 101 
 
 long I trust still to have a nice cottage, at all events, upon 
 it. And then what portion of happiness we enjoy in it 
 depends upon you, dearest Anna ; and I think you will not 
 wilfully shut it out of doors, merely because it may be a 
 better fate than I deserve. I have been planting trees, and, 
 as I told you, potatoes, on a princely scale ; and often, when 
 I can steal an hour, I go and exercise myself with my spade 
 and pruning-knife, and then I feed my fancy with the idea 
 that you will, before the leaves disappear, be walking there 
 by my side. 
 
 I am, however, anticipating the course of events. 
 While these letters were being addressed to her from 
 the other side of the Atlantic, she was cheating her 
 suspense and trying to drown her fears of the future 
 among her German friends. Here is a record of one 
 lovely excursion apparently taken from mere need 
 of repose and peace after the pomps and vanities of 
 Vienna, where she had been for many months. She 
 found the quiet she sought in a sort of hermit exist- 
 ence, in a lone spot on the Gmiindensee in Upper 
 Salzburg. Hence she writes in a merrier mood 
 than she had been wont to do to her faithful knight, 
 Robert Noel, on August 16 : 
 
 Next day (Saturday) I took a boat to Frauenkirchen 
 found a pretty little deserted cottage with two habitable 
 rooms ; got them furnished very tolerably from the inn, 
 and so to shorten my story here I am, close to the edge 
 of the lake, with a little garden, and a little summer-house 
 therein, and a clean bed, and a little nook where I bathe 
 every morning plunge in, frighten all the fishes, and
 
 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 scramble out again, more frightened myself ; with the little 
 antique chapel of St. John perched on a hill above me, and 
 the glorious mountains all around me, and peace, and 
 security, and forgetfulness. Ought I not to be happy ? 
 
 If you ask me what I do, I do nothing but sit on rocks 
 and glide about in a boat, and make sketches, i.e. scratches, 
 upon any scrap of paper I pick up ; for, like a wiseacre, I 
 .sent the drawing materials I had purchased to Weimar, 
 not knowing where to stow them. Otherwise I might have 
 practised drawing to some purpose, for these majestic 
 forms would inspire the most stupid. The impossibility of 
 doing anything to please myself, however, often stops my 
 hand, and I sit sometimes for hours on a rock or in a boat, 
 motionless, in indolent and deep-felt enjoyment of this 
 beauty and magnificence. I wish you were here. You 
 might be at Gmiinden, at the little inn there, and we 
 might have had some pleasures together. Fate owed it to 
 us, and I did half hope it but now it is too late. 
 
 When that dear good Countess Z - heard I was 
 expected at Gmiinden, she wrote immediately to B - to 
 desire he would receive me, and do for me all that was 
 possible, and desired I would write all my plans about 
 Ischl, &c. I wrote to thank her, to decline Ischl alto- 
 gether ; but, as she had offered to come over and see me, I 
 said I would row over to Ebensee and meet her. But two 
 days after my arrival she and Countess S - came over 
 early. I had just bathed, and in a very complete, or, as 
 they call it here, most profonde undress, was sitting among 
 the rocks, when B -- came up, scrambling and wiping 
 his forehead, to announce my visitors ! I had the key of 
 my little abode, so they had stationed themselves in the 
 summer-house ; and I shall never forget the countenance 
 of the Z -- as she stood upon the steps and extended her 
 arms ; nor that of the good-natured Countess S - , who
 
 MIDDLE LIFE. 103 
 
 was looking over her shoulder, both quite radiant with 
 pleasure and every kindly feeling. They were exceed- 
 ingly amused at my little arrangements and comical make- 
 shifts. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson left the little haven by the Gmiin- 
 densee, made her tour in Upper Germany, and 
 returned to Weimar before Christmas. The fatigue, 
 bodily and mental, undergone in the interim seems 
 again to have seriously affected her health. She 
 writes on January 1 1, 1836, the following vivid account 
 of her introduction to Alexander v. Humboldt : 
 
 The first time I dined at Court after my illness, I met 
 Humboldt, the celebrated traveller. He was here for two 
 days only, and spent the greatest part of both evenings 
 with Ottilie. He struck me, amused me, interested me, 
 and has half turned my head. Luckily he has a passion 
 for conversation, and talks almost incessantly, but so ad- 
 mirably well that it is a thing for which to thank Heaven 
 (I mean his talking mania). He knows everything and 
 everybody, and has seen all countries and all climes from 
 pole to pole. He speaks all modern languages, is con- 
 versant with all literature, and nothing gave me such an 
 idea of the universality of his knowledge as the discovery 
 that he knew my name and all I had written. Poor little 
 me ! I felt, while I looked at him, quite lost a molehill 
 beside the Andes. I must confess, however, that I do not 
 agree with his speculations and theories, as far as I could 
 make them out ; but for facts and characters he was de- 
 lightful a walking encyclopaedia, a perambulating picture- 
 gallery, and, to crown all/a most accomplished courtier. 
 
 You must know I am in great favour with both the
 
 104 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 Grand Duke and the Grand Duchess ; but, on the plea of 
 jny health, I accept about one invitation out of three, for 
 J have something better to do than to stand dangling in 
 a court circle talking nothings. 
 
 The following letter, addressed about the same 
 period to her kind friend Mrs. Procter, contains 
 some further details about her life and friends at 
 Weimar : 
 
 You write so kindly that I am sure you will be glad to 
 hear of my plans, and that my return to England is nearly 
 settled for next month. I only wait till the weather is 
 more mild, and till the steamboats have recommenced on the 
 Rhine. I bring with me a half-finished book, which I think 
 will please you better than my last. It is less superficial and 
 broken. How the other volumes succeeded I scarcely 
 know, as I left England almost immediately after the pub- 
 lication ; but in spite of many errors they have made me 
 popular in Germany. Here, both in public and private, 
 they make such a spoiled child of me, that it is lucky I 
 am too old to have my head turned, and know too well 
 the limits of my own capabilities to be tempted out of the 
 circle, or to meddle with matters which are too high for 
 me. I am pleased at the idea of meeting Mrs. Butler in 
 England. I did not read her journal till last November, 
 and luckily had not read any of the critiques upon it, either 
 English or American. It is mostly the impress of her own 
 mind full of genius and power, full of the exuberance of 
 four-and-twenty, with rash and hasty opinions here and 
 there, and expressions and phrases that startle one not 
 pleasantly ; but for all that I was enchanted, and read 
 through the two volumes almost without taking breath. I 
 met her brother John at Leipzig ; ... he talked to me
 
 MIDDLE LIFE. 105 
 
 as if he had been soliloquising before the public. . . . 
 But he is handsome, and so like Fanny, with the same 
 dark bright eyes. Adelaide was always a pet of mine, 
 and I am charmed with her success. 
 
 I believe that on my return to England I shall be accom- 
 .panied by a lady of this place, who is going to Scotland to 
 spend the summer with Sir John and Lady Ramsey, and will 
 remain some few days (perhaps a fortnight) in London. Will 
 you allow me to introduce her to you and your mother, and 
 expect your kindness for her ? She is a charming specimen 
 of the true German woman, no longer young, that is, not very 
 young, nor very handsome, nor very clever, but well informed, 
 well bred, simple-minded, warm-hearted an excellent per- 
 son altogether, with a dash of German romance which I 
 think will delight you, and quite enthusiastic about Eng- 
 land ; she speaks English extremely well, and is fond of 
 our literature. I have been staying four months in the 
 house of her sister, Mme. de Goethe, and treated like a 
 pet child. To their constant and devoted attention I owe 
 my recovery from a most alarming state of health. You 
 may judge, therefore, how anxious I am to make her short 
 stay in London as pleasant as possible. She has no taste 
 for sight-seeing, but I must of course do the honours of all 
 our theatres. 
 
 I long to be introduced to the two new babies, your 
 
 little E and Louisa's anonymous production for would 
 
 you believe it, I do not even know her name ! I thank 
 you from my heart for your little postscript, for so long a 
 time has elapsed since I heard from my dear home, that, 
 but for your kind assurance that all was well, I should 
 have been quite unable to share in the gaieties here. The 
 Grand Duke's birthday has been celebrated with great 
 splendour, and I am half dead of dissipation. Another 
 ball to-night, the fourth this week ! Luckily the early
 
 io6 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 .hours will save my life, for here a ball, even of the highest 
 fashion, begins at half-past seven, and is generally over by 
 one o'clock. The opera begins at six and ends at nine ; 
 this I call sensible and rational, though I think I see you 
 smile. 
 
 Farewell, my dear friend, and God bless you and pre- 
 serve to you all you love. Keep a corner of your heart 
 warm for me, against my arrival. I am ever the same, 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 ANNA. 
 
 I never hear a word from Jameson. In the last six- 
 teen months I have had two letters. 
 
 During all these travels and encounters, how- 
 ever, the private question what was to become of 
 her and of her life, how it was henceforward to be 
 shaped and how maintained, must have occupied her 
 mind in all the silent hours, and pervaded her every 
 thought. Her husband's letters were not to be neg- 
 lected or put aside, and a decision one way or the 
 other was imperatively called for. Nothing could 
 be better or kinder in expression, as has been seen, 
 than the repeated letters which called her to his 
 side, nothing more tender than his apparent affec- 
 tion and the anticipations with which he looked 
 forward to their reunion. It is only justice to Mr. 
 Jameson to state this, even at the risk of making my 
 aunt appear somewhat stern in her persistent doubt 
 of the truth of protestations which she had fully
 
 MIDDLE LIFE. 107 
 
 tested in previous years. I do not propose to enter 
 into all the correspondence ; but having quoted from 
 Mr. Jameson's letters, which are so apt to prejudice 
 the mind entirely in his favour, I must also quote 
 one of hers, which will show better than any- 
 thing else the state of grave doubt and anxiety in 
 which these affectionate-seeming epistles left her. 
 It is thus that she, who knew every detail of the 
 question between them, wrote to him, the only other 
 individual perfectly acquainted with the state of 
 matters. The letter is dated Weimar, February 
 1836, and is in answer to the two letters which I 
 have quoted. 
 
 MY DEAR ROBERT, The feelings of perplexity and un- 
 certainty into which I have been thrown by the whole 
 course of our correspondence almost discourage me from 
 writing to you, and take from me all power to express 
 myself with that flow and openness which were otherwise 
 natural to me. From October 1834 down to this present 
 February 1836, I have received from you two letters, dated 
 1 2th October 1834, and I4th May 1835, and these two 
 letters contained no syllable which could give me the 
 slightest idea of your social position in Canada ; and though 
 you expressed in the last letter a general wish that I should 
 join you, very slightly and vaguely expressed (a hope rather 
 than an intention or an expectation), there was not a word 
 which I could interpret into any decision on the subject, no 
 instructions as to my voyage, and no answer to the ques- 
 tions and enquiries with which my letters were filled. 
 Between October 1834 and October 1835 I wrote you eleven 
 letters. In August 1835 I received from you a bill of ioo/.,
 
 io8 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 and in January 1836 I received from Henry the intelligence 
 that you had sent me a bill of ioo/., but no letter for me. I 
 wrote immediately to beg for some information concerning 
 you, and Henry by return of post sent me your letter to him. 
 It is a letter of about two pages, in a jesting style, com- 
 plaining that you never hear a word from me, but not 
 saying that you have written, or giving the dates of any 
 letters you have forwarded to me ; not saying anything of 
 your position in Canada, although the state of affairs there, as 
 it is reported in all the papers, English and German, made 
 me expect either the news of your return, or some intelli- 
 gence from you that should tranquillise me about your 
 situation and movements. You say in the same letter that 
 it is your intention to marry again immediately. My dear 
 Robert, jesting apart, I wish it only depended on me to 
 give you that power. You might perhaps be happy with 
 another woman a union such as ours is, and has been ever, 
 is a real mockery of the laws of God and man. You have 
 the power to dispose of our fate as far as it depends on each 
 other. I placed that power in your hands in my letter 
 written from England, and had you used that power in a 
 decided manly spirit, whether to unite or to part us, I had 
 respected you the more, and would have arranged my life 
 accordingly. But what an existence is this to which you 
 have reduced us both ! If you can make up your mind to 
 live without me if your vague letters signify a purpose of 
 this kind for God's sake speak the truth to me ; but if, 
 on the other hand, it is your purpose to remain in Canada, 
 to settle there under any political change, and your real 
 wish to have me with you and make another trial for 
 happiness, tell me so distinctly and decidedly tell me 
 at what time to leave England tell me what things I 
 ought to take with me, what furniture, books, &c., will be 
 necessary or agreeable, what kind of life I shall live, that I
 
 MIDDLE LIFE. 109 
 
 may come prepared to render my own existence and yours 
 as pleasant as possible. To the letter from England 
 written before my departure for Germany, containing my 
 own wishes, and certain conditions, on the fulfilment of 
 which I would be really happy to join you, I received no 
 answer, though I have every reason to believe that you 
 received that letter. 
 
 I came to Weimar completely broken down. I have 
 since been staying with the Goethe family, who have nursed 
 me like a pet sister, and the first physician here has done 
 much for me. Since the beginning of January I have been 
 recovering, and am in hopes that I shall be able to return 
 to England in April or even sooner. There I shall await 
 your next letter, and according to its contents I shall regu- 
 late my future plans. Farewell ! I expect your answer in 
 July next. 
 
 The summons, imperative enough to satisfy all 
 scruples, must have come as anticipated in July, for 
 early in August Mrs. Jameson writes to an intimate 
 friend : 
 
 I am going to Canada that is, my husband has sent 
 over his very peremptory request that I should join him, 
 giving some cogent reasons, and I am much engaged 
 making my preparations. The exact time of my de- 
 parture is not fixed I suppose it will be about the loth 
 September. Still such is Jameson's very peculiar character 
 that I do not myself feel secure of going his next letter 
 may again defer my voyage. 
 
 On the contrary, the next letters came more 
 urgent, more anxious for Mrs. Jameson's speedy
 
 no ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 departure. In what was apparently the last letter 
 received before starting, bearing date Toronto, July 
 30, Mr. Jameson sends careful directions, and winds 
 up with 
 
 Write to me immediately, and say what measure of good 
 is reserved for me. If you come out alone, I will either 
 meet you at New York or make such arrangements that 
 you shall not feel yourself in the least a stranger on your 
 landing in the Western world. Alma vows it is his right to 
 go to New York and escort his patroness to Upper Canada. 
 But it is very possible that it may neither be in the power 
 of one or the other. It is, however, consolatory that the 
 great steamboat communication up the Hudson and by 
 Lake Ontario makes a journey from New York a very 
 different thing from an inland journey of like extent.
 
 AMERICA. in 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 WHETHER lured by the attraction of so many tender 
 anticipations and the fond and eager welcome 
 offered to her, or merely obeying the call of duty 
 and her husband, Mrs. Jameson sailed for America 
 in September 1836. It would certainly appear 
 from, if nothing else, the melancholy with which she 
 afterwards records the obliteration of all happier 
 prospects, that there still existed some hope in her 
 mind of a real reunion. Nothing, however, but 
 disappointment seems to have awaited her. She 
 landed early in November at New York, where she 
 expected to find an escort and companion for her 
 further journey. When she reached this city, how- 
 ever, she found no sign that she was expected ; 
 neither her husband nor the faithful friend John 
 Alma, whom he had announced as her intended 
 guide in case he were himself unable to meet her ; 
 not even a letter to indicate and arrange the best 
 way for her to travel. Thus disappointment met
 
 ii2 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 her the moment she set foot in the new strange 
 country, where indeed, as everywhere, she found 
 friends, but none near enough or warm enough to 
 console her in her loneliness after her dreary winter 
 voyage. She wrote in great depression of mind, 
 as was very natural, on November u, from the 
 American Hotel, New York, to Toronto, to ask 
 why she had not been met, and for directions as 
 to her further journey. But this letter had as yet 
 elicited no reply when, nearly three weeks later, 
 on November 29 she began a letter to her family 
 in the same painful uncertainty and despondency, 
 not knowing whether she should go forward or 
 return at once to England alternatives almost 
 equally miserable in her discouraged and weakened 
 condition. She heads this letter ' No. 2,' saying, 
 ' No. i was sent by the packet of the i6th; write 
 soon for God's sake!' Her letter is addressed to all 
 the members of the home circle. 
 
 My dearest Father, Mamma, and Sisters all, You will 
 be surprised to find I am still here, and yet more surprised 
 to hear that 1 have no tidings of Jameson not one word. 
 
 I am Just as I was writing these lines in came a letter 
 
 from Jameson which had been sent to the British Consulate. 
 It is like all his letters, very well written, very plausible, 
 very kind, agreeing to everything. I shall set off imme- 
 diately, and have a world of business and packing-up to be 
 done. I had a short but sharp illness of three days, owing 
 to the effects of my voyage, and worry, and suspense. But
 
 AMERICA. 113 
 
 except this I have been well. The enthusiasm about me 
 here is very great, even to a troublesome degree, for I have 
 more engagements than I can possibly keep, more visitors 
 than I can see, and more devoted admirers than I can 
 count. I have made an agreement about a new edition 
 of the ' Characteristics,' which is likely to produce five hun- 
 dred dollars. The two last copies which remained were 
 sold by a bookseller here for twelve dollars each three 
 times the original price ; such has been the momentary 
 run after my books. 
 
 I am dying for news from my dear home, and feel too 
 truly and deeply that I am going to Toronto with far more 
 mistrust and fear than confidence and hope. If I could 
 believe all that Jameson writes, I might suppose I was 
 going into an Elysium ; but the puzzling thing is, to 
 reconcile his words and his actions, what he is, and what 
 he seems ; he is quite past my comprehension. 
 
 Among my best friends here are the Duers. When I 
 was ill they wanted me to take up my abode in their 
 house. The two daughters of Duer are nice girls, one 
 particularly who is very like him, but my especial favourite 
 is Ellen Duer, his niece, who is singularly clever, intelli- 
 gent, and independent. Charles Augustus Davis, the 
 author of Major Downing's letters, and his very pleasing 
 wife, are also among my best friends. I dined a few days 
 ago with the widow of the celebrated De Witt Clinton 
 (papa knows all about him, I dare say) she is quite a 
 character, and amused me exceedingly. She gave me a 
 wampum bag which had been a present to her from an 
 Indian chief. In the way of presents my table is covered 
 with books, presentation copies, poems, and the Lord knows 
 what. I had a long visit yesterday from Washington 
 Irving, who has a most benevolent and agreeable counte- 
 nance, and talks well. 
 
 I
 
 ii 4 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 Of the manner in which the journey was prose- 
 cuted, and the state of mind in which she began her 
 life at Toronto, so strange, so new and solitary, Mrs. 
 Jameson has left the most complete record in the book 
 entitled 'Winter Studies and Summer Rambles/ pub- 
 lished in 1838 ; which is, in fact, the history of her life 
 in Canada, with all its discouragements and all its ex- 
 pedients for keeping hope and cheerfulness alive amid 
 the torpor of so uncongenial a place. ' My friends at 
 New York,' she writes, 'expended much eloquence 
 in endeavouring to dissuade me from a winter jour- 
 ney to Canada. I listened, and was grateful for 
 their solicitude, but must own I did not credit the 
 picture they drew of the difficulties and dtsagrdmens 
 I was likely to meet by the way. I had chosen, 
 they said (Heaven knows I did not choose it), the 
 very worst season for a journey through the State of 
 New York. The usual facilities for travelling were 
 now suspended. A few weeks sooner the rivers and 
 canals had been open ; a few weeks later the roads, 
 smothered up with snow, had been in sleighing 
 order; now the navigation was frozen, and the 
 roads so broken up as to be nearly impassable. 
 Then there was only a night boat on the Hudson, 
 "to proceed," as the printed paper set forth, "to 
 Albany, or as far as the ice permitted." All this 
 was discouraging enough ; but necessity, and an 
 anxious desire to know her fate one way or other,
 
 AMERICA. 115 
 
 made her strong against all such discouragements. 
 She had the courage at once of ignorance and of 
 resolution. ' I could form no notion,' she says, ' of 
 difficulties which by fair words, presence of mind, 
 and money in my pocket, could not be obviated.' 
 She had travelled all over Europe, often alone, why 
 not here? And, indeed, the voyage up the Hudson 
 was sufficiently novel to produce a new sensation. 
 
 At the first blush of morning, I escaped from the heated 
 cabin, crowded with listless women and clamorous children, 
 and found my way to the deck. I was surprised by a 
 spectacle as beautiful as it was new to me. The Catskill 
 mountains which we had left behind us in the night were 
 still visible, but just melting from the view, robed in a 
 misty purple light, while our magnificent steamer the 
 prow armed with a sharp iron sheath for the purpose was 
 crashing its way through solid ice four inches thick which 
 seemed to close behind us into an adhesive mass, so that 
 the wake of the vessel was not distinguished a few yards 
 from the stern ; yet in the path thus opened, and only 
 seemingly closed, followed at some little distance a beautiful 
 schooner and two smaller steam vessels. I walked up and 
 down from the prow to the stern, refreshed by the keen 
 frosty air and the excitement caused by various picturesque 
 effects on the ice-bound river and its frozen shores, till we 
 reached Hudson. Beyond this town it was not safe for 
 the boat to advance, and we were still thirty miles below 
 Albany. After leaving Hudson (with the exception of the 
 railroad between Albany and Utica) it was all.heavy weary 
 work the most painfully fatiguing journey I can remember. 
 Such were the roads that we were once six hours going 
 
 I 2
 
 u6 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 eleven miles. . . . After six days and nights of this 
 travelling, unrelieved by companionship or interest of any 
 kind, I began to sink with fatigue. The first thing that 
 roused me was our arrival at the ferry of the Niagara river, 
 at Queenstown, about seven miles below the falls. It was 
 a dark night, and our little boat was tossed on the eddying 
 waters, and guided by a light to the opposite shore we 
 could distinctly hear the deep roar of the cataract, filling 
 and, as it seemed to me, shaking the atmosphere round us. 
 . . . You may believe that I woke up very decidedly 
 from my lethargy of weariness to listen to that mysterious 
 voice, which made my blood pause and think. 
 
 After this the tedious journey was shortened by 
 a fortunate chance, a steamer, contrary to all hope, 
 being found on Lake Ontario, the last of the season. 
 The traveller and her belongings were hurried on 
 board, where, completely exhausted, she fell asleep, 
 and knew no more until the arrival, which she de- 
 scribes as follows with all the intensity of a deeply 
 felt yet quiet despair : 
 
 How long I slept I know not they roused me sud- 
 denly to tell me we were at Toronto, and, not very well 
 able to stand, I hurried on deck. The wharf was utterly 
 deserted, the arrival of the steamboat being accidental and 
 unexpected ; and as I stepped out of the boat I sank ankle- 
 deep into mud and ice. The day was intensely cold and 
 damp, the sky lowered sulkily, laden with snow which was 
 just beginning to fall. Half- blinded by the sleet driven 
 into my face, and the tears which filled my eyes, I walked 
 about a mile through a quarter of the town mean in appear- 
 ance, not thickly inhabited, and to me as yet an unknown
 
 AMERICA. 1 1 7 
 
 wilderness, and through dreary miry ways, never much 
 thronged, and now, by reason of the impending snowstorm, 
 nearly solitary. I heard no voices, no quick footsteps of 
 men or children ; I met no familiar face, no look of wel- 
 come. I was sad at heart as a woman could be. And these 
 were the impressions, the feelings, with which I entered the 
 house which was to be called my home. 
 
 A more miserable beginning to a life from which 
 so little comfort had been expected it would be 
 impossible to imagine, and there would not seem to 
 have been any possibility of illusion in the traveller's 
 eyes, or in fact any sudden delight of welcome, 
 opening with the opening door upon her, as might 
 well have been even after all the accidents of the 
 beginning. Lonely as she strayed through those 
 unknown streets, with the sleet in her face and the 
 tears in her eyes, was she to struggle through this 
 painful episode in her life. The arrival was ap- 
 parently a fitting preface to the chapter of melan- 
 choly existence which followed. Here is again her 
 own description of her feelings when, a little rested 
 from her fatigues, she had time to look out upon 
 the scene around : 
 
 What Toronto may be in summer I cannot tell ; they 
 say it is a pretty place. At present its appearance to me, 
 a stranger, is most strangely mean and melancholy. A 
 little ill-built town on low land, at the bottom of a frozen 
 bay, with one very ugly church without tower or steeple ; 
 some government offices built of staring red brick in the
 
 n8 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 most tasteless vulgar taste imaginable ; three feet of snow 
 all around, and the grey sullen uninviting lake and the 
 dark gloom of the pine forest bounding the prospect. Such 
 seems Toronto to me now. I did not expect much, but 
 for this I was not prepared. Perhaps no preparation could 
 have prepared me, or softened my present feelings. I will 
 not be unjust if I can help it, nor querulous. If I look into 
 my own heart, I find that it is regret for what I have left" 
 and lost, the absent not the present, which throws over all 
 around me a chill colder than that of the wintry day, a 
 gloom deeper than that of the wintry night. 
 
 This is all very dismal, very weak perhaps. Hitherto I 
 have not been accused of looking on the things of this world 
 as through a glass darkly, but rather of the contrary ten- 
 dency. What have I done with my spectacles couleur de 
 rose ? The cheerful faith which sustained me through far 
 worse than anything I can anticipate here ; the desire to 
 know, the impatience to learn, the quick social sympathies, 
 the readiness to please and be pleased derived perhaps from 
 my Irish blood, and to which I have owed a world of com- 
 fort when I have most needed it, so much of enjoyment 
 when I could least have hoped for it what ? and are 
 all forgotten are all gone ? Yet am I not quite an icicle 
 or an oyster I almost wish I were! No, worst of all is 
 this regretful remembrance of friends who loved me, this 
 heartsick longing after home and country and all familiar 
 things and dear domestic faces. I am like an uprooted 
 tree, dying at the core, yet with a strange unreasonable 
 power at times of working at my own most miserable 
 weakness. Going to bed in tears last night, after saying 
 my prayers for those far away across that terrible Atlantic, 
 an odd remembrance flashed across me of that Madame de 
 Boufflers who declared, ' avec tant de sfrieux et de senti- 
 ment] that she would consent to go as ambassadress to
 
 AMERICA. 119 
 
 England only on the condition of taking with her ' vingt- 
 cinq ou vingt-six de ses amis int lines ' and sixty or 
 eighty persons who were absolument nfaessaires a son bon- 
 Jienr. The image of graceful impertinence thus conjured 
 up made me smile, but am I so unlike her in this fit of 
 unreason ? Everywhere there is occupation for the rational 
 and healthy intellect, everywhere good to be done, duties 
 to be performed ; everywhere the mind is, or should be, its 
 own world, its own country, its own home at least. How 
 many fine things I could say or quote on this subject ! But 
 in vain I conjure up philosophy ' she will not come when 
 I do call for her ; ' but in her stead come thronging sad 
 and sorrowful recollections and shivering sensations, all 
 telling me that I am a stranger among strangers, miserable 
 inwardly and outwardly and that the thermometer is 
 twelve degrees below zero ! 
 
 This dismal beginning evidently froze the very 
 soul in the new emigrant, and she never entirely re- 
 covered that first unhappy impression. Canada, which 
 is so bright in the recollection of most visitors to it, 
 was to her always dreary, frost-bound, colourless. 
 Without denying its many beauties, nay, with frequent 
 admiration of the striking scenery she saw in her 
 wanderings, it was always a country of exile to her, 
 sad and cold as the grave itself a very curious 
 effect upon so sympathetic a mind, and one so soon 
 roused to enthusiasm and to a kindly fellow-feeling 
 with her fellow-creatures. But there is nothing so 
 icy, so destructive of all beauty and sunshine, as 
 that chill at the heart which she had experienced at
 
 izo ANNA JAMESON, 
 
 first, and from which no subsequent thawing set 
 her free. 
 
 The book from which we have quoted, and 
 which has been stated to be the record of her life 
 in Canada, will convey to the reader the most for- 
 lorn yet fine picture of a courageous woman's 
 attempt to render her life liveable, in the midst of 
 a monotony and want of interest which she felt to 
 be killing. After the sketch of her melancholy 
 loneliness given above, she rouses herself and takes 
 to her books ; and then follow some chapters of 
 criticism and comment upon German poetry, upon 
 Goethe, and Eckermann, and those topics of art, 
 literature, the theatre, and the genius of the Old 
 World, which were already so familiar and so dear 
 to her criticisms and reflections, however, very 
 uncongenial to the place and circumstances from 
 which they now came. These angels of art 
 stood by her in her solitude, and helped her to 
 live through the lingering winter, of which she 
 speaks with a fervour of suffering that many people 
 will deeply sympathise with. Perhaps it is only 
 youth to which physical cold is a matter of indif- 
 ference at least it requires a special degree of 
 robustness in the constitution, to be able to take to 
 a permanently diminished temperature, with content, 
 after forty. 
 
 I could almost wish myself a dormouse (Mrs. Jameson
 
 AMERICA. 121 
 
 says) or a she-bear, to sleep away the rest of this cold, cold 
 winter, and to wake only with the first green leaves; the 
 first warm breath of summer wind. I shiver through the 
 day and through the night ; and, like poor Harry Gill, 
 ' my teeth, my teeth, they chatter still,' and then at inter- 
 vals I am burned up with a dry hot fever. This is what 
 my maid a good little Oxfordshire girl calls the ' hagur ' 
 (the ague), more properly the lake fever, or cold fever. 
 From the particular situation of Toronto the disorder is 
 very prevalent here in the spring ; being a stranger and 
 not yet acclimatte, it has attacked me thus unseasonably. 
 
 Her active mind, however, could not rest, even 
 in the chill of her new life, without some attempt 
 to interest herself in what was going on around. 
 The question of education was one which always 
 interested her much, and on the occasion of a dis- 
 cussion in the Canadian Parliament on this point 
 her spirit was roused. 
 
 As a mere party question it did not interest me (she 
 says) ; but the strange, crude, ignorant, vague opinions I 
 heard in conversation, and read in the debates and pro- 
 vincial papers, excited my astonishment. It struck me 
 that if I could get the English preface to Victor Cousin's 
 report (of which I had a copy) printed in a cheap form and 
 circulated with the newspapers, it might assist the people 
 to some general principle on which to form opinions ; 
 whereas they all appeared to me astray, nothing that had 
 been promulgated in Europe on the momentous question 
 having yet reached this. But no ; cold water was thrown 
 upon me from every side ; my interference in any way was 
 so visibly distasteful that I gave my project up with many 
 a sigh.
 
 1 2 2 ANNA- JAMESON. 
 
 But her spirit was not to be driven into lethargy 
 by either ice within, or cold water without ; and in 
 the middle of winter we find her starting, glad to 
 have the relief of movement and activity in any 
 form that would present itself, on an expedition to 
 Niagara. ' Five days/ she exclaims, ' of frost and 
 snow ; ' but her doctor counselled the change as the 
 only way of throwing off the continually recurring 
 fever, and she set out in the end of January in a 
 sleigh, ' absolutely buried in furs.' The description 
 of the journey is minutely given, and, but for the 
 prevailing tints of grey, it would be an attractive 
 one. She describes ' the sublime desolation of 
 winter ' with a sympathetic shiver. ' The whole ap- 
 peared as if converted into snow, which fell in thick 
 tiny starry flakes, till the buffalo robes and furs 
 about us appeared like swan's-down, and the har- 
 ness on the horses of the same delicate material. 
 The whole earth was a white waste ; the road, on 
 which the sleigh track was only just perceptible, 
 ran for miles in a straight line ; on each side rose 
 the dark melancholy pine forest, slumbering drearily 
 in the hazy air. ... A few roods from the land, the 
 cold grey waters (of Lake Ontario) and the cold 
 grey snow-encumbered atmosphere were mingled 
 with each other, and each seemed either.' After 
 various adventures however, overturns in the snow, 
 and other natural incidents of a sleigh journey, she
 
 AMERICA. 123 
 
 arrived at her journey's end, and then had nothing 
 but disappointment for her reward. But the con- 
 clusion must be given in her own words. She 
 expresses in dismay her wish that the Falls were 
 like Yarrow, yet unvisited, unbeheld. ' No, it must 
 be my own fault/ she cries 
 
 The reality has displaced from my mind an illusion 
 much more magnificent than itself. I have no words for my 
 utter disappointment. Oh ! I could beat myself ! and now 
 there is no help ! The first moment, the first impression is 
 over, is lost ; though I should live a thousand years, as 
 long as Niagara itself shall roll, I can never see it again 
 for the first time. Something is gone that cannot be re- 
 stored. What has come over my soul and senses ? I am 
 metamorphosed ; I am translated ; I am an ass's head, a 
 clod, a wooden spoon, a fat weed growing on Lethe's 
 brink, a stock, a stone, a petrifaction. For have I not 
 seen Niagara, the wonder of wonders, and felt no words 
 can tell what disappointment ? 
 
 Mrs. Jameson, however, was not alone, her 
 guide and companion assured her, in this feeling ; 
 but she does not seem to have taken much comfort 
 from the thought. 
 
 Her experiences in Canada were not entirely 
 of this snow-bound and frost-bitten class. The time 
 came at last when all nature changed as if by magic, 
 and when a brighter picture rose before the solitary 
 dreamer's eyes. In May she writes as follows : 
 
 This beautiful Lake Ontario my lake, for I begin to
 
 124 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 be in love with it, and look on it as mine it changes its 
 hues every moment, the shades of purple and green fleeting 
 over it, now dark, now lustrous, now pale like a dolphin 
 dying, or, to use a more exact though less poetical com- 
 parison, dappled and varying like the back of a mackerel, 
 with every now and then a streak of silver light dividing 
 the shades of green. Magnificent tumultuous clouds came 
 rolling round the horizon ; and the little graceful schooners 
 falling into every beautiful attitude, and catching every 
 variety of light and shade, came curtseying into the bay ; 
 and flights of wild geese and great black loons were skim- 
 ming, diving, sporting on the bosom of the lake ; and 
 beautiful little unknown birds, in gorgeous plumage of 
 crimson and black, were floating about the garden ; all 
 life and light and beauty were abroad, the resurrection of 
 Nature. How beautiful it was ! how dearly welcome to 
 my senses to my heart this opening which comes at last, 
 so long wished for, so long waited for ! 
 
 That the changing season did not, however, 
 change her plans, is evident ; and we must go back 
 a little from this pleasant burst of spring, to show 
 how life was tending with her, and what her final 
 conclusion was. The following letter to her sister 
 Charlotte indicates very clearly the course she meant 
 to pursue : 
 
 Toronto, March 15, 1837. 
 
 This is your birthday, my dearest Charlotte ; so I send 
 you my blessing, hoping all the time (with true human 
 selfishness) that God will so far bless me as to preserve 
 you all in health and prosperity till I see you again and 
 after. I have asked Mr. and Mrs. Hepburn and Mr. Fitz-
 
 AMERICA. 125 
 
 gibbon to come here this evening and drink your health, 
 which we shall all d most devoutly, and once again may 
 God bless you, dearest, and spare us long to each other. 
 . . . You will all be glad to hear that Jameson is appointed 
 Chancellor at last. He is now at the top of the tree, and 
 has no more to expect or to aspire to. I think he will 
 make an excellent Chancellor ; he is gentlemanlike, cau- 
 tious, and will stick to precedents, and his excessive reserve 
 is here the greatest of possible virtues. No one loves him, 
 it is true ; but every one approves him, and his promotion 
 has not caused a murmur. The Solicitor-General Hager- 
 man is now Attorney-General, and Draper (the member 
 for Toronto, and a friend of Trelawney's) is now Solicitor- 
 General. The organisation of the new Court of Equity, 
 and the moving into his new residence, will occupy Mr. 
 Jameson and me for a month or two. The house is very 
 pretty and compact, and the garden will be beautiful, but 
 I take no pleasure in anything. The place itself, the 
 society, are so detestable to me, my own domestic posi- 
 tion so painful and so without remedy or hope, that to 
 remain here would be death to me. My plan is to help 
 Jameson in arranging his house, and, when the spring is 
 sufficiently advanced, to make a tour through the western 
 districts up to Lake Huron. Towards the end of the year 
 I trust by God's mercy to be in England. These are my 
 plans. I hope you get all my letters. Eliza does not say 
 that any have reached you, except the first from New 
 York. The monotony of the surrounding country, still 
 covered with snow, can scarce afford me a subject to 
 write upon, the only event being the prorogation of the 
 Parliament. The ceremony took place in the hall of the 
 Legislative Council. Sir Francis l sat on his throne, his 
 
 1 Sir Francis Head.
 
 126 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 hat on. his head, and his sword by his side, and gave his 
 assent to all the bills passed during the session ; reading 
 the titles only occupied an hour. He then made a very 
 fair speech, which, besides its other merits, had that of 
 being his own composition. I sat, of course, with the official 
 ladies and the grandees, and was rather amused at the 
 whole scene, as it was my first appearance in the country, 
 never having gone to any party, any dinner, or any as- 
 sembly yet. I was sufficiently well stared at, but paid 
 for all this by keeping my bed four days from aguish cold 
 and fever. It is the most hateful climate I ever encoun- 
 tered, but it agrees with some people very well. I have 
 not one companion ; besides, my whole heart and soul are 
 occupied. I am too old to cultivate new habits of exist- 
 ence and new affections. If I found in Jameson anything 
 
 I wished but as it is, it would only be a vain, a foolish 
 
 struggle, a perpetual discord between the inner and out- 
 ward being. Lady Head has not yet arrived, her voyage 
 having been very long ; but she is hourly expected, to the 
 Governor's great joy, and to me it will make no slight 
 difference. 
 
 On May 26 Mrs. Jameson writes to Mr. Noel, 
 from Toronto : 
 
 Your picture and the Z 's hang on each side of 
 
 mine in the little drawing-room where I write, many 
 thousand miles from you both, and, God help me ! from 
 all I love in the world. Your wish that I might find here 
 a sphere of happiness and usefulness is not realised. I am 
 in a small community of fourth-rate, half-educated, or 
 uneducated people, where local politics of the meanest 
 kind engross the men, and petty gossip and household 
 cares the women. As I think differently from Mr. Jameson
 
 AMERICA. 127 
 
 on every subject which can occupy a thinking mind, I keep 
 clear of any expression (at least unnecessary expression) 
 of my opinions. He is now Chancellor of the Province, 
 and, having achieved the first judicial office, can go no 
 higher ; he has much power, and also luckily much discre- 
 tion, and a very determined intention to keep well with all 
 men, and lead a peaceful life. Is not this wisdom ? It is 
 not exactly my wisdom, but I shall not contend with what 
 cannot be altered ; neither will I endure what neither duty 
 nor necessity require me to endure. I shall be in England 
 about October or November next. The winter has been 
 beyond measure dreary and lonely ; but one of the objects 
 of my coming will be, I think, accomplished, and my future 
 life more easy, and my conscience clear. It was worth the 
 sacrifice to purchase all I can have of peace and inde- 
 pendence for the rest of my days, and what we do from a 
 principle of duty turns out well surely. So I put my trust 
 in God and my own firm will, and ' will not fear what man 
 can do unto me.' 
 
 Having thus made up her mind, the coming of 
 summer was doubly pleasant to her, as the moment 
 of enfranchisement. She describes the sudden out- 
 burst of the genial season with characteristic grace 
 and enthusiasm : 
 
 We have already (she says, June 8) exchanged the 
 bloom and ravishment of spring for all the glowing ma- 
 turity of summer we gasp with heat, we long for ices, 
 and are planning Venetian blinds ; and three weeks ago 
 there was snow lying beneath our garden fences, and not a 
 leaf upon the trees ! In England, when Nature wakes up 
 from her long winter's sleep, it is like a sluggard in the 
 morning ; she opens one eye and then another, and shivers
 
 128 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 and draws her snow coverlet over her face again, and turns 
 round to slumber more than once before she emerges at 
 last, lazily and slowly, from her winter chamber. But 
 here, no sooner has the sun peeped through her curtains 
 than up she springs like a huntress from the chase, and 
 dons her kirtle of green, and walks abroad in full blown 
 life and beauty. I am basking in her smile like an insect 
 or a bird. 
 
 Without laying aside the books which had helped 
 her through the long winter, she began to find that 
 Canada, too, hitherto so dreary, had a beauty and 
 interest of her own, and even to find that, without 
 knowing it, she had found friends in the uncongenial 
 society which seemed so tedious in its first aspect. 
 
 It would be pleasant verily (she says) if, after all my 
 ill-humoured and impertinent tirades against Toronto, I 
 were doomed to leave it with regret ; yet such is likely to 
 be the case. There are some most kind-hearted and agree- 
 able people here who look upon me with more friendliness 
 than at first, and are winning fast upon my feelings if not 
 on my sympathies. There is considerable beauty around 
 me too. . . . Ontario means ' the beautiful,' and the word 
 is worthy its signification, and the lake is worthy of its 
 beautiful name yet I can hardly tell you in what the 
 fascination consists. . . . The expanse of this lake has 
 become to me as the face of a friend : I have all its various 
 expressions by heart. I go down upon the green bank, or 
 along the King's Pier, which projects about two hundred 
 yards into the bay ; I sit there with my book, reading 
 sometimes, but oftener watching untired the changeful 
 colours as they flit over the bosom of the lake. . . . 
 I am meditating a flight of such serious extent that some
 
 AMERICA. 129 
 
 of my friends here laugh outright, others look kindly 
 alarmed, others incredulous. 
 
 This was the journey into the least known 
 regions of Canada, the homes of the Indians, which 
 she had resolved upon making as a sort of compensa- 
 tion at once to herself, and to the public at home, for 
 her banishment, before leaving the American conti- 
 nent. The alarm with which her friends regarded 
 this strange resolution, probably unaware of all the 
 inducements which weighed so strongly with her, 
 and the want of love and sympathy which made her 
 house a place which she could not learn to look upon 
 as her home, seems to have been mingled with ad- 
 miration of her courage and high spirit in the under- 
 taking ; and a week later, having just set out on the 
 journey, she repeats her more favourable verdict 
 upon the people she was quitting. 
 
 In these latter days (she says) I have lived in friendly 
 communion with so many people, that my departure from 
 Toronto was not what I anticipated an escape on one 
 side and a riddance on the other. My projected tour to 
 the west excited not only sincere interest but much kind 
 solicitude, and aid and counsel were tendered with a feel- 
 ing which touched me deeply. The Chief Justice, in par- 
 ticular, sent me a whole sheet of instructions and several 
 letters to settlers along my line of route. 
 
 When just on the point of starting she was intro- 
 duced to an interesting member of the race with 
 
 K
 
 130 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 which she was so anxious to become acquainted, an 
 educated Indian woman married to a missionary, 
 whose home was on the far-distant Sault Ste Marie, 
 a place of which Mrs. Jameson says, ' I dare hardly 
 think of as yet ; it looms in my imagination dimly 
 descried in far space, a kind of ultima Thule ; ' and 
 this acquaintance she accepted as a happy augury. 
 Then, ' with blessings, good wishes, kind pressures 
 of the hand, and last adieux and waving of handker- 
 chiefs from the door,' she took her leave of Toronto. 
 She had spent about six months in the place in 
 much despondency, loneliness, and suffering ; and 
 when we consider how she was going away alone, 
 with a final conclusion put to all chances or hopes 
 which might ever have been, of a happier personal 
 life, with henceforward nothing but loneliness be- 
 fore her, and this painful chapter of existence pain- 
 fully over the few words in which she describes her 
 feelings at this strange moment speak volumes at 
 once as to the relief of this absolute conclusion, and 
 the elasticity and courage of her disposition through 
 whatever trials. 
 
 I have not been happy enough in Toronto to regret it 
 as a place, and if touched, as I really was, by the kind 
 solicitude of those friends who but a few weeks ago were 
 entire strangers to me, I yet felt no sorrow. Though no 
 longer young, I am quite young enough to feel all the 
 excitement of plunging into scenes so entirely new as were 
 now opening before me ; and this, too, with a specific
 
 AMERICA. 13 ! 
 
 object far beyond mere amusement and excitement, an 
 object not unworthy. 
 
 The expedition lasted two months, during which 
 Mrs. Jameson penetrated to the depths of the Indian 
 settlements, explored Lake Huron, and saw a great 
 deal of life, Canadian and Indian. The journey is 
 too long, and its adventures too detailed, to be more 
 than mentioned here, especially as the whole story 
 of it may be found* in the book on Canada already 
 so largely quoted. The ' Summer Rambles ' occupy 
 more pages in this interesting work than the 
 1 Winter Studies ; ' but these voyagings, so rude, 
 fatiguing, and solitary, are mingled with many a deli- 
 cate piece of thinking, many a reference to the litera- 
 ture she loved, many a poetical description and 
 interesting incident One most remarkable and 
 engaging feature I may be permitted to point out ; 
 which is, that this journal of travel is from beginning 
 to end a record of my aunt's friendly interest in all 
 about her, made delightful by the happy knack she 
 had of winning confidence and affection in return. 
 Not a homely cottage innkeeper on the rough road, 
 not a driver, be it of ' baker's cart' with or without 
 springs, be it of more ambitious ' wagon,' but has 
 his niche in her memory, and most frequently his 
 story in her pages. The chance emigrant whom she 
 meets in the stage-coach at once secures her atten- 
 
 K 2
 
 132 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 tion, receiving from her a letter of introduction to 
 some one whom she thinks likely to serve him, and 
 an invitation to let her know how he fared. This 
 perpetual stream of human interest brightens the 
 country wherein she moves. It becomes full, not 
 only of beautiful landscapes, but of a strange and 
 novel life, of faces and firesides which we learn to 
 know. Things no doubt have altered much in 
 Canada as elsewhere during the last forty years. 
 But the emigrants and the Indians of those days are 
 all as lifelike in this work as if the story were one of 
 the present day. 1 
 
 During this journey, while moving about among 
 so many new scenes, with so many gleams of plea- 
 sure among her fatigues, arrangements were going 
 on for her final separation from her husband, and 
 the establishment of her future independence. I 
 cannot be clearly certain whether she returned to 
 Toronto at all, though there seems a likelihood that 
 for a short time she did so ; but from the time when 
 she left that town no further personal communica- 
 tion took place between the ill-suited pair. All their 
 intercourse thenceforward was carried on by corre- 
 spondence, which grew less and less frequent, until 
 it became the merest matter of form, and ceased 
 altogether some years previous to Mr. Jameson's 
 
 1 In 1852 Messrs. Longman published a reprint, revised, and I 
 believe curtailed, of this book, under the title of Rambles among the 
 Red Men.
 
 AMERICA. 133 
 
 demise in Canada in 1854. Before her final depar- 
 ture from America early in the year 1838, legal 
 papers had been drawn up, assuring to Mrs. Jameson 
 an allowance of three hundred a year ; and in a letter 
 dated Toronto, September 21, 1837, in reply to her 
 request for a letter from her husband, specifying 
 that it was with his full consent and acquiescence 
 that she left Toronto to reside at a distance, and 
 exonerating her from all blame or reproach in the 
 matter, Mr. Jameson wrote : 
 
 MY DEAR ANNA, In leaving Canada to reside among 
 your friends in England or elsewhere, you carry with you 
 my most perfect respect and esteem. My affection you 
 will never cease to retain. Were it otherwise I should feel 
 less pain at consenting to an arrangement arising from no 
 wish of mine, but which I am compelled to believe is best 
 calculated for your happiness, and which therefore I can- 
 not but approve. 
 
 While these negotiations were pending, Mrs. 
 Jameson was staying in Massachusetts and Pennsyl- 
 vania, with Miss Sedgwick at Stockbridge, and 
 among other American friends dearly cherished in 
 memory long after her return to Europe. On 
 December 1 2 she writes to a friend : 
 
 I have been on the eve of departing for Europe during 
 the last six weeks, but delayed by some legal papers and 
 writings which are to settle my future fate and income, &c. 
 and which are to be signed and sealed before I depart. 
 When your letter reached me I was spending a few days
 
 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 at a most beautiful village in New England, Stockbridge 
 by name, with the most distinguished woman as writer 
 and moralist America has yet produced Miss Sedgwick. 
 She is one who is working gently but courageously for her 
 sex and for humanity, but her best works being calculated 
 more particularly for this country are not likely to be 
 popular elsewhere. Thence I went to Boston, where I 
 spent nearly a fortnight very pleasantly, and saw much of 
 Dr. Channing, the good, the wise, the great. Don't you 
 envy me ? We will have everlasting talks of him when 
 we meet. I heard him preach like an apostle ! Of all 
 the places I have yet visited in this wide land, Boston 
 pleases me best. It seems to have pleased Harriet Mar- 
 tineau least. There are fine things in that book of hers, 
 are there not ? Though some of the people here would, I 
 believe, burn her alive at the stake, there are others, the 
 most conscientious ad the best informed, who allow all 
 its value and all its truth. 
 
 I may here put in an interesting little episode 
 about one of the local preachers of original character 
 and primitive eloquence, so characteristic of America, 
 whom she met on this visit to Boston. 
 
 When I was at Boston I made the acquaintance of 
 Father Taylor, the founder of the Sailors' Home in that 
 city. He was considered as the apostle of the seamen, 
 and I was full of veneration for him as the enthusiastic 
 teacher and philanthropist. But it Is not of his virtues or 
 his labours that I wish to speak. He struck me in another 
 way as a poet ; he was a born poet. Until he was five- 
 and-twenty he had never learned to read, and his reading 
 afterwards was confined to such books as aided him in his 
 ministry. He remained an illiterate man to the last, but
 
 AMERICA. 135 
 
 his mind was teeming with spontaneous imagery, allusion, 
 metaphor. One might almost say of him 
 
 He could not ope 
 His mouth, but out there flew a trope. 
 
 These images and allusions had a freshness, an originality, 
 and sometimes an oddity, that was quite startling; and 
 they were generally, but not always, borrowed from his 
 former profession that of a sailor. 
 
 One day we met him in the street He told us in a 
 melancholy voice that he had been burying a child, and 
 alluded almost with emotion to the number of infants he 
 had buried lately. Then, after a pause, striking his stick 
 on the ground and looking upwards, he added : ' There 
 must be a storm brewing when the doves are all flying 
 aloft.' 
 
 One evening, in conversation with me, he compared 
 the English and the Americans to Jacob's vine, which, 
 planted on one side of the wall, grew over it and hung its 
 boughs and clusters on the other side, ' but it is still the 
 same vine, nourished from the same root.' 
 
 
 
 In his chapel all the principal seats in front of the 
 pulpit and down the centre aisle were filled by the sailors. 
 We ladies and gentlemen and strangers whom curiosity 
 had brought to hear him were ranged on each side; he 
 would on no account allow us to take the best places. On 
 one occasion, as he had been denouncing hypocrisy, luxury 
 and vanity, and other vices of more civilised life, he said 
 emphatically : ' I don't mean you before me here,' looking 
 at the sailors ; ' I believe you are wicked enough, but 
 honest fellows in some sort, for you profess less, not more 
 than you practise. But I mean to touch starboard and 
 larboard there ! ' stretching out both hands with the fore-
 
 136 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 fingers extended, and looking at us on either side till we 
 quailed. 
 
 The friendship referred to on a previous page, 
 which my aunt formed with Miss Sedgwick at this 
 period, was one of the warmest of her life. The few 
 letters of their correspondence which have fallen into 
 my hands are full of expressions of affection, and show 
 a confidence on Mrs. Jameson's part in her friend's 
 interest in all that concerns her, which proves how 
 entirely their sympathy was mutual. The first I 
 find is the following, dated from Philadelphia, where 
 she was awaiting a summons to New York. It is 
 dated 'from Fanny's 1 writing-table this 22nd of 
 December/ and bears testimony to the rapid growth 
 of the friendship which was maintained intact 
 through a long series of years between Anna Jame- 
 son and Catherine Sedgwick : 
 i 
 
 I cannot allow your niece (Miss Watson) to go to New 
 York without a few lines from me. Though the lines must 
 be few and not worth much not worth postage at least 
 yet they will tell you that I love you and think of you, 
 and never do think of you without feeling glad and grate- 
 ful to have known you, to have you to think of and talk 
 of for we talk of you, Fanny and I, with cordial sym- 
 pathy, and wish for you. My visit here, a visit to be long 
 remembered, is drawing to a close. I only wait the 
 arrival of some papers from Toronto, retarded by the late 
 
 1 Mrs. Fanny Kemble.
 
 AMERICA. "137 
 
 events in Canada, to return to New York and embark for 
 England. I was going to say for home, but I have no 
 home. And yet I have ; for where my sweet mother 
 is, there must my heart be also, and there my home. . . . 
 We are just going to town, and here is the carriage, and 
 so farewell, and God bless you ; keep me a little wee 
 corner in that good heart How full it must be, how 
 crammed and crowded, unless it has an india-rubber ca- 
 pacity of extension has it ? Put me somewhere, stick me 
 behind the door, anywhere ; but let me in, et puis nous 
 verrons. 
 
 From on board the ' Quebec,' late in the month 
 of February, Mrs. Jameson again wrote to Miss 
 Sedgwick : 
 
 I told you, my dear friend, that if during the voyage I 
 could hold pen or pencil or scribble a word, I would send 
 you my blessing from the midst of the great deep ; and 
 from the deep of my heart I do send it you. When I 
 think of you, and of all I gained in your affection, and all 
 I lost in your society, my heart alternately swells with 
 gratitude and sinks with regret. Oh, come to England ! 
 but don't come in February. Our voyage is likely to be 
 short, but it has been one of unmingled suffering ; first we 
 were driven half-way across the Atlantic in a gale of wind, 
 varied only now and then by a hurricane not merely what 
 we landsfolk call such, but what the captain himself styled 
 a ' hurricane, blowing awfully, blowing like fury' ; without 
 a single sail, for two sails had been blown to tatters, we 
 drove on before the blast at the rate of ten to eleven knots 
 an hour. It was fearful. Yesterday and to-day I am 
 able to lie on the sofa, and just write these words from the 
 corner you in some sort consecrated to me. I am obliged
 
 138 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 to lay down my pen and paper at the end of every line, 
 and make but a bad hand of it. 
 
 The last time I was on deck was the day on which I 
 parted from you. About four in the afternoon, when the 
 sickly lethargy was fast creeping over me, I was told we 
 were just losing sight of the American shores ; so I crawled 
 up and took one last look as they faded away under the 
 western sun, and in my heart I stretched out my arms to 
 you for a last embrace, and blessed that land because it 
 was your land. Of the next fourteen days I shall say 
 nothing. . . . 
 
 God bless you for thinking of ' Rory O'More ' ! It is 
 delicious. ' As to its merits as a work I cannot speak, not 
 having my critical wits about me. I only know that I 
 enjoyed it when I could have read nothing else, when, as 
 Rory himself would say, ' the laugh and the life and the 
 spake were out of me quite entirely.' At least the laugh and 
 the life were brought back. I do not enter into all the 
 merit of the ' Pickwick Papers/ I understand the humour 
 and the merit without sympathising with either, and, 
 though I laugh, it is not the heart's laugh ; while in the 
 extravagant fun and real racy Irish wit of ' Rory O'More,' 
 there is something which stirs my Irish blood and moves 
 my Irish sympathies in spite of all its sins against taste. As 
 for this Yankee book, ' Sam Slick the Clockmaker,' it is of 
 a very different class ; it has amused me infinitely, and 
 displeased me sovereignly. I dislike the spirit in which it 
 is written, it plays discord upon mine ; yet surely it is a 
 clever book. Now to-day I have finished the 'Letters 
 from Palmyra/ which have really delighted me. It is an 
 elegant and an eloquent book, but elegance is its chief 
 characteristic ; there is rather a want of power and pathos. 
 ... I only detected two americanisms, shall I call them 
 so ? Who is this Mr. William Ware ? I must ask Mr.
 
 AMERICA. 139 
 
 Dewey to tell me something about him. You see I cannot 
 help thinking aloud to you, though I can scarce hold the 
 pen. 
 
 March I. God be praised ! we are on the English 
 shore, but I am so ill yesterday and to-day I cannot 
 go on deck. We have what is expressively called ' English 
 weather/ that is, a dull leaden sky, a foggy atmosphere, 
 and a drizzling rain. It reminds me of one of Marryat's 
 stories of an old quartermaster, who, returning from a three 
 years' voyage to the East Indies, and approaching the 
 English shore in weather such as this, looked up into the 
 dull sky and hazy atmosphere, and, sniffing up the damp 
 air and buttoning his pea-jacket over his chest, exclaimed 
 with exultation, ' Ay, this is something like none of your 
 d d blue skies here ! ' 
 
 Oh, horrible ! within twenty-four hours of Portsmouth 
 and a dead calm we are motionless. But to-morrow night 
 at farthest we hope to land. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson reached England early in the 
 spring. The best account I can give of her con- 
 dition and state of mind will be in her own words, 
 from a letter addressed to Mr. Noel from London, 
 on May 26, 1838 : 
 
 I left America in great anxiety about my father, but 
 have found him living and not materially worse, although 
 declining gradually. After my return I was ill for some 
 weeks ; I am now as much recovered as I can ever hope 
 to be, but my existence is no more the same. Not that I 
 mean to sit down and despair, but there is nothing left to 
 think about, or hope for, or care for as regards myself; 
 however, I must care for my sisters, and help to rupport
 
 140 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 my father and mother, so I work. I brought with me 
 from Canada a diary I kept there about all manner of 
 things notes on my German studies during the winter ; 
 the politics, society, and scenery of Canada ; the Indian 
 natives, and my adventures on Lake Huron all jumbled 
 together. My intention was to have used these notes only 
 as material, but I have been persuaded to print the diary 
 in its original state, only with a few omissions ; and after 
 a little struggle with myself I acquiesced. The truth is, I 
 have not time, courage, heart, or spirits to write a sensible 
 well-digested book ; so they may just take my scraps of 
 thought, and make the best or worst of them. How con- 
 temptible, frivolous, old-fashioned, superficial, it will appear 
 to your deep-thinking Germans they who thought De 
 Stael commonplace and superficial and what am I to her ? 
 Well, never mind, it must go.
 
 </ HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: 141 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ' I HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH.' 
 
 MRS. JAMESON returned to the house of her sister, 
 Mrs. Bate, on her arrival from Canada. The follow- 
 ing letter addressed to her beloved American friend, 
 and which indeed is a little antecedent in date to 
 the one given on the previous page, is interesting 
 both on account of the conversation recorded in it, 
 and as giving a glimpse of her own domestic life : 
 
 7, Mortimer Street : April 18, 1838. 
 
 No, I cannot let this packet sail without a few lines 
 from me, though it be only to tell you that as yet 
 I have not one line from you ; and as Miss Fitzhugh 
 has a letter from Fanny Butler of the Qth of March, in 
 which you are not mentioned, what am I to think ? Are 
 you not yet with her ? Where are you ? How are you ? 
 I will believe all that is most improbable and impos- 
 sible, but I will never believe that you have forgotten 
 me. I have heard from all my friends except yourself 
 my dearest friend in that far-off New World and should 
 better endure any other exception. Do write to me. I am 
 now settled with my sister Louisa in Mortimer Street, and 
 am trying to busy myself about my book ; but I find it 
 difficult to get my mind together for a continuous effort.
 
 142 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 The other day I saw Joanna Baillie ; she spoke of you with 
 a kindness and respect which was delightful to me, and 
 looks forward to the pleasure of seeing you when you 
 come to England. She spoke of the pleasure she had re- 
 ceived from ' Redwood ; ' and I am to send her in all haste 
 your last works. I was glad to find her looking better 
 and younger than when I left England. As I had been 
 crying my eyes out over the last volume of Scott's Life, 
 our conversation turned naturally on that subject. She 
 said she was glad the public would at last do some justice 
 to Lady Scott ; she said that at the time Scott married, he 
 was not in person a man to please a lady's eye, and had 
 written nothing except one or two ballads. He had neither 
 fortune, fame, or personal advantages, yet Lady Scott, then 
 young, very pretty, and very much admired, had sense 
 enough to distinguish him, love him, and marry him ! 
 * She was no common-place woman,' added Miss Agnes 
 Baillie ; ' she managed his house admirably, and made it 
 agreeable to his friends ; she was an excellent wife.' All this 
 it gave me pleasure to hear from such a source. You have 
 now, I suppose, read the whole work ; there is not such a 
 biography in the world. They say Lockhart is going to be 
 married again to a Miss Alexander ; but I do not give you 
 this as certain. I am living on quietly ; as yet it requires 
 an effort a strong and painful effort to go into society, 
 nor have I been anywhere yet, except last night at Mrs. 
 Fitzhugh's to meet Mr. and Miss Sully, whom I think I 
 shall like. My niece, little Gerardine, talks as familiarly 
 of Miss Sedgwick as if she had known you all her life. 
 She thinks you must be so good to send her and her 
 little sister such nice books. I wish you could see the riot 
 they make on my bed in the morning, when Gerardine 
 talks of Richard the First, the hero of her infantine fancy, 
 whose very name makes her blush with emotion ; and little
 
 '/ HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: 143 
 
 Dolly Dumpling (by baptism and the grace of God Camilla 
 Ottilie) insists upon reciting ' Little Jack Horner,' who is 
 }ier hero. They are my comfort and delight. Give my 
 love to your dear Kate and all, all of you. My heart must 
 be kilt quite entirely, as cold as death can make it, before 
 it forgets the Sedgwicks. O, come to England ! I am 
 getting some books together to send by Captain Huttle- 
 done, whom I know personally ; if I do not send a package 
 by one I know, I am afraid you will have to pay duty, and 
 it is not worth while. Now dear friend, dear Catherine, 
 farewell. Perhaps some of these days, if you have patience 
 with me, I shall be able to send you a letter worth reading, 
 but meantime do write to me. ANNA J. 
 
 The following letter, addressed to the same cor- 
 respondent, is interesting from its reference to the 
 most important public event of the moment : 
 
 London : June 30, 1838. 
 
 Yesterday I saw your friend Dr. Potter, and had at 
 least an hour's talk with him ; he has made a very agree- 
 able impression on us all. I have seen several Americans 
 within these two days, and am much amused by their re- 
 marks on the coronation of our young Queen. The deport- 
 ment of the people, the excellent order, the good feeling 
 prevalent everywhere seem to have struck your country- 
 men ; the police, as vigilant as good-humoured, were pre- 
 sent to protect, not to coerce, and the military added to the 
 splendour of the spectacle without infringing on the liberty 
 of the people. My heart was with the mob all day. As 
 to the Queen, poor child, she went through her part beau- 
 tifully ; and when she returned, looking pale and tremulous, 
 crowned and holding her sceptre in a manner and attitude 
 which said ' I have it, and none shall wrest it from me ! ' 
 even Carlyle, who was standing near me, uttered with
 
 144 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 emotion a blessing on her head, and he, you know, thinks 
 kings and queens rather superfluous. All the rest, if you feel 
 any curiosity on the subject, you will learn in the news- 
 papers ; only one thing which has not yet reached these 
 seems to have made a strong impression. The premier 
 Baron, old Lord Rolle, is more than eighty-five, and on 
 ascending the steps of the throne to do homage he 
 stumbled from age and agitation. The Queen, forgetting 
 her dignity and her royal state, started from her thrcne and 
 stretched out both her hands to help him. This little 
 action against all rule of court etiquette called down a 
 thunder of applause. You see what it is to be a queen ! 
 A woman with the common feelings of courtesy and kind- 
 ness is nothing less than an angel ! 
 
 Notwithstanding the courage with which she 
 faced the loneliness of her life and the failure of all 
 her hopes of personal happiness, it is evident that 
 the period after Mrs. Jameson's visit to America 
 was full of the disturbed and restless pain of a 
 soul scarcely able to reconcile itself to the burden 
 which it is forced to resume, yet too proud and 
 highspirited to acknowledge its trouble save in the 
 deepest confidence of friendship. A record of this 
 time of despondency will be found in the following 
 letter, also addressed to Miss Sedgwick : 
 
 Windsor : August 20, 1838. 
 
 On the very day I left London to take up my residence 
 here, Mr. Putnam brought me your letter. You are the 
 dearest, kindest creature in the world that is most cer- 
 tain thus to find time to write to me in the midst of your
 
 1 1 HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: 145 
 
 anxieties, distresses, and avocations ; but I believe that I 
 am grateful ; and then your letters, no matter how short or 
 how long, are sure to contain some word or words which 
 lie on my heart like balm for hours and days afterwards. 
 You have this instinct of benevolence and affection in a 
 degree that no other possesses, no other that I have ever 
 known ; how can I but love you dearly ? . . . I cannot go 
 to Germany to Ottilie, because my duties keep me here at 
 present. Mrs. Austin, whom I respect and love, and in 
 whose society I find pleasure and sympathy, has the health 
 and interests of a hypochondriac husband and the education 
 of a daughter on her hands. I have no right to her time 
 and thoughts ; . . . and, worse than all ! you are on the 
 other side of the Atlantic, and I have known you only to 
 feel how hard it is to be without you ; yet do not think I 
 repine, for in truth I do not. I am not so insensible or 
 ungrateful ... a more affectionate and devoted family no 
 one could possess. ... In London, with a large and brilliant 
 circle of acquaintance, I led a distracted heartless life. I 
 thought it right to go on trying to keep up certain social 
 interests and tastes, and I tried in vain ; my heart seemed to 
 be drying up and withering away ; so I reflected for a week 
 or two, and came here to Windsor. I thought at first of 
 going to Hampstead and taking a house near Joanna Baillie, 
 but I could not find one ; and moreover, as they say the 
 little cat that has been scalded dreads fire and water, so I 
 dreaded, with an absolutely morbid terror, any new interest, 
 any new object, and any new liaison, which might become 
 habitual, and therefore Hampstead was too near London, 
 and too near that excellent Joanna Baillie, and too near 
 one or two other people who are flatteringly partial to my 
 society while I do not care for theirs. So I cut my tether, 
 and I came down to Windsor, where I have taken a little 
 lodging on the verge of the Great Park, and at the foot of 
 
 L
 
 i 4 6 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 the hill on which the Castle stands. It is in a very small 
 house, or rather cottage, kept by a superlatively tidy and 
 obliging woman ; and here I dwell, work, write, speculate, 
 and am better certainly than at any time since my arrival. 
 And so much for my autobiography enough of self for the 
 present. I am glad that I can fancy you, with all your 
 present surroundings. The little view of your brother 
 Theodore's house, ' The house in which Catherine Sedg- 
 wick was born,' is before me ; also the little view of the 
 hills from the window of the inn at Lenox, where we used 
 to sit, and the two pretty views which kind Mr. Minst 
 gave me ; and I look at them often, and think how much 
 I have gained in knowing you all, dear people that you 
 are. When you come to England, may not I also help to 
 minister to your brother's comfort ? Among the visions to 
 which, child-like, I sometimes yield up my fancy when 
 alone I look up to those vast towers of our kings, is one 
 especially, of having you all here at Windsor. To come 
 down as strangers do, to take a hasty dinner and see over 
 the state rooms and pictures, is not to be thought of. 
 Windsor is like nothing but itself in the world. And 
 though you are a democrat, the gods have made you 
 poetical. Imagine our pretty young Queen, with all her 
 courtly suite, pouring out of the great gates of the Castle, 
 on most beautiful horses, and sweeping through the 
 avenues and glades of the forest here, the 'Windsor Forest' 
 which is the classic ground of our Shakespeare as well as 
 our Edwards and Henrys. It sounds well, does it not ? 
 and really it is a most splendid sight. As to the Queen, 
 she really plays the part to admiration, ' poor little girl ! ' 
 as 'Carlyle calls her. I never look at her but with an 
 interest in which some pity is blended. She is, after all, 
 but a pageant, an anomaly ; and with so much of kindness 
 of heart and sensibility, what is to become of her ? A
 
 ' I HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: 147 
 
 great many anecdotes of her inttrieur> which reach me 
 privately, give me the highest idea of her heart and 
 sense. 
 
 I can give you no literary news, for I read nothing, 
 and my pleasure in reading is not what it was, I have no 
 curiosity nor sympathy yet, but it will come back, I sup- 
 pose. I began to read Prescott's ' History of Ferdinand 
 and Isabella,' which is admirable. With what do you now 
 amuse your dear brother ? What are you doing yourself, or 
 about to do ? Have you yet begun the tale you mentioned 
 to me, which is to be next in your series ? Can I make any 
 arrangement with my publisher for you, by which you 
 might have some share of the profits of the English edi- 
 tions of your books ? You are very popular here. I sent 
 you, or rather Kate, the third edition of one of them, for 
 I thought it would please her ; dear sunshiny Kate ! I 
 wish I had her to run over Windsor Castle with me. How 
 I should like to see what impression these things, con- 
 secrated in our imagination, foolishly perhaps, would make 
 on a young, fresh, pure, and reflecting mind like hers ! 
 
 What you tell me of F pains me ; send me better 
 
 news of her. Why, my dearest friend, should this fair 
 
 earth of ours be a prison for a spirit like F "s ? There 
 
 is so much to enjoy, to do, ' to be, 1 though much (how 
 
 much) to suffer. But F will and must have trials ; 
 
 and if they are proportioned to her strength and her spirit 
 and her almost unequalled gifts, what then ? ' I see, as 
 from a tower, the end of all.' My love, my kindest love to 
 all your dear circle, chickens and all. Your affectionate 
 
 ANNA. 
 
 In a letter to her valued correspondent, Mr. 
 Noel, written from Windsor, we find the melancholy 
 and somewhat disturbed solitude of her retirement 
 
 L 2
 
 i 4 8 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 varied by negotiations and arrangements of a less 
 personal character. Her friend had lately married 
 an Austrian lady, and the letters written subsequently 
 to this marriage contain a constant record of mutual 
 kindnesses and unfailing sympathy, my aunt having 
 apparently constituted herself a sort of London 
 agent for the young couple to whom she had so 
 much attached herself, sending them newspapers, 
 books, and private news, consulting with them about 
 their prospects, and occasionally lending her aid to 
 some literary undertaking. Nothing could be more 
 delightful than the evidence faintly shadowed forth 
 in these letters (for Mrs. Jameson was as much the 
 reverse of what is commonly called ' gushing ' as 
 it is possible to imagine) of the mutual sympathy, 
 support, and constantly interchanged good offices 
 of this trio of faithful friends. Just at this time Mr. 
 Noel had occupied his leisure with a translation 
 from the German, for the publication of which Mrs 
 Jameson entered into treaty with the publisher of 
 her own popular volumes. This and her own 
 Canadian book appear in her correspondence with 
 Mr. Noel in the later autumn of this year. 
 
 Saunders & Ottley will, if you like it, publish the 
 paper on Rubens (under the title of ' Peter Paul Rubens, 
 his Life and Genius, from the German of Dr. Waagen, 
 author of " Art and Artists in England " ') in a series of 
 articles in the ' Metropolitan ; ' and if in this form it attract 
 attention, they will subsequently publish the whole at their
 
 < I HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: 149 
 
 own risk, dividing the profits, if any, fairly with you. I 
 would look over and correct it for the press, but after 
 January 20 I shall be busied with my preparations for 
 Germany. I write in haste, for I am going to leave London 
 to-day, and do not return till January 16 or 17. I am 
 going down to Lord Hatherton's. 
 
 My book, entitled ' Winter Studies and Summer 
 Rambles,' is out this month, and, I am glad to say, 
 my success is entire, and I have never been so popular 
 as now. There have been one or two most brutal attacks 
 upon me personally from personal motives, which have 
 only called forth stronger expressions of sympathy and 
 approbation. One of the most beautiful letters I have 
 received is from Lady Byron, who, poor soul, is suffering 
 very much. 
 
 Another pleasant letter on this subject my aunt 
 received from Miss Martineau, who writes with 
 friendly enthusiasm : 
 
 I feel so deeply the support and delight of your sym- 
 pathy, as shown in your Canada book, that I acknowledge 
 your right to all my thoughts on that set of subjects. I 
 am always recurring in thought to that book. When will 
 your ' Princess Amelia ' appear ? 
 
 Another tribute of approbation came to her in 
 the charming old-lady letter of Joanna Baillie, dated 
 Hampstead, December 17, with its pretty formality 
 and stateliness : 
 
 MY DEAR MADAM, A friend of mine sent me the first 
 volume of your ' Winter Studies, &c., in Canada,' thinking 
 I should be gratified by the flattering and friendly notice 
 taken of me in its pages ; and truly she thought right, for
 
 ISO ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 I am very much gratified, and I thank you with all my 
 heart for speaking a good word for me in my old age. 
 Some days after that, a copy of the book was sent to me 
 from Cavendish Square, where it had been lying I don't 
 know how long ; there is no writing upon it of any kind to 
 say who sent it. I dare not think it came from yourself, 
 for you have so many friends who have a far better right 
 to expect such a mark of your favour, that it would be 
 quite unreasonable to do so. But I may at any rate thank 
 you for the agreeable amusement of the curious and in- 
 teresting information we have received from it. You make 
 the reader, both as to your internal world and external, 
 live along with yourself, and an excellent companion we 
 find you. Your book did my sister a world of good, and 
 your animated observations and descriptions delighted her. 
 I have been delighted too as far as I have read, and feel 
 that I have much pleasure still in reserve. Again let me 
 thank you heartily, and believe me very truly and grate- 
 fully yours, J. BAILLIE. 
 
 Upon the same subject, which evidently occupied 
 much of her thoughts, is the following letter, written 
 from the neighbourhood of Windsor, to her sister 
 Charlotte, thanking her 
 
 for the letter dictated by my dear father, and the ad- 
 ditions from yourself. It gave me real pleasure. Papa's 
 approbation is expressed with as much elegance as affec- 
 tion. Mrs. Procter writes me that the book is universally 
 relished, and says, ' A fig for reviewers.' ' The men,' she 
 says, ' are much alarmed by certain speculations about 
 women ; and,' she adds, ' well they may be, for when the 
 horse and ass begin to think and argue, adieu to riding 
 and driving.' Her letter is very amusing and comical. I
 
 ' I HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH.' 151 
 
 was going -to Miss Mitford last week, but I had an express 
 to say her father was seized with a sudden and dangerous 
 illness. I am afraid the good old man (who is seventy- 
 eight) will certainly die, and as she has been his sole com- 
 panion and support for years, I am very sorry for her. 
 
 I may conclude the record of this year by another 
 letter addressed to Miss Sedgwick, and marked by 
 that lady as ' noteworthy.' 
 
 Sunninghill, Berkshire: December 15,1838. 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, Your letter (dated October 23) 
 reached me December 5. I am thankful that it reached 
 me at all, considering what tempests it encountered on its 
 way ; but when I look at the date, it is with a sort of pang 
 at the idea of the time and the distance which separates 
 us. I can truly say that the hope of seeing you in England 
 has become the single bright spot in my clouded future ; 
 there is nothing else to which I look forward with absolute 
 unmingled pleasure ; everything besides is in some way 
 mixed up with doubt and pain. I read your dear kind 
 letter during a sojourn in London. I was there about 
 three weeks, as restless and unhappy as heretofore, and 
 glad to return to my little lodging at Windsor and my 
 solitude. After a fortnight spent alone, I came over here 
 to spend a week or ten days with a family of rich people, 
 who have a fine place in a lovely country ; but here I am 
 again a prey to the same painful influences, and all is so 
 uncongenial around me. But pray do not think that I 
 voluntarily throw up the game of life ; indeed I do not, 
 and you shall see when you come over how cheerfully I 
 can look upon the world. Only I do not like what is called 
 society. You have written me a dear sweet homily, so like 
 yourself. I read it, almost fancying your kind eyes looking 
 into mine.
 
 152 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 What shall I say now of myself? You beguile me 
 into most intolerable egotism. At this moment I have 
 fame and praise, for my name is in every newspaper ; and 
 I have a dear family who truly love me, and some excel- 
 lent friends and a list of acquaintance anyone might envy ; 
 but in the whole wide world I have no companion. The two 
 or three with whom I could have companionship are re- 
 moved far from me. All that I do, think, feel, plan, or 
 endure, it is alone. Now this unhealthy craving after*sym- 
 pathy, with a fastidiousness which makes me shut up from 
 all sympathy which is not precisely that which I like and 
 wish for, is, after all, one of the phases of disease, and 
 as such I must treat it. You think I am not religious 
 enough. I fear you are right ; for, if I were, God would 
 be to me all I want, replace all I regret thus selfishly and 
 weakly, and more, if to believe and trust implicitly in the 
 goodness of God were enough ; but apparently it is not, 
 and my resignation is that which I suppose a culprit feels 
 when irrevocable sentence of. death is pronounced a submis- 
 sion to bitter necessity which he tries to render dignified 
 in appearance, that those who love him may not be pained 
 or shamed. I am afraid it is thus, and not what it ought 
 to be ; only, my dear, dear friend, pray believe that I am 
 not cold or bitter, nor negligent of such duties as are 
 around me. All your letter is delightful, like all your 
 letters ; may they be remembered, every word of them, 
 with your good deeds, for you have given comfort when 
 it was most needed. God knows I have reason to be 
 grateful, in the strongest, holiest sense of the word gratitude. 
 It rejoices me to hear such a good account of your 
 dear brother ; give my kindest love to him, and tell him 
 I will get a budget of news together for him and write 
 him, but he must not think to trouble himself with answer- 
 ing all my effusions, and I will be content to hear through
 
 1 1 HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: 153 
 
 you, dear Catherine, of his well-being. I am sure a tour 
 in England and a change of scene will do him good. All 
 you say of Fanny is most interesting ; the gipsy did not 
 read to me the whole of her tragedy, only a part of it, and 
 that was beautiful, and affected me very powerfully, as I 
 remember. I have a letter from her since her return to 
 Philadelphia, in which she mentions her Georgia winter 
 with no great pleasure. Adelaide Kemble is at Trieste, 
 and poor Mr. Kemble's health so bad that John Kemble 
 and his wife have gone off to him in a hurry. I shall set 
 off for Germany about the end of January, please God, 
 and will go to Adelaide if I see cause. She is a fine, noble 
 creature. Here I am at the end of my scanty paper, and 
 not one of the thousand things said which are in and on 
 my heart. Must I try your eyes by crossing the lines ? 
 
 The fragment which follows is probably the 
 postscript, not crossed, but written on a separate 
 sheet, to the same letter : 
 
 I spent a pleasant morning at the Palace, had luncheon 
 with the lords and ladies in waiting, and the Queen very 
 graciously permitted me to see all the private apartments, 
 and desired Lady Tavistock to show me the picture which 
 Leslie is painting of her ; it is the moment of consecration, 
 when she is kneeling at the feet of the Archbishop of 
 Canterbury, and is a very beautiful beginning. It will be 
 exhibited this year. Another artist, who is rather a 
 favourite with her, wished to paint the scene which took 
 place when she was called out of her bed at four in the 
 morning and told that she was Queen of England. He 
 sent a very beautiful sketch of his design, and a petition 
 that she would sit for him. The Queen, after a little 
 struggle with her own good nature, refused, but begged
 
 154 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 that he would ask anything else ; she added with emotion 
 (to her lady in waiting), ' He may paint such a picture if 
 he likes, but I cannot sit for it ; it was too sacred a moment.' 
 I heard many anecdotes, which pleased me much. She 
 seems to be really a right-hearted, 1 thoroughly good little 
 creature. Spring Rice told a friend of mine that he once 
 carried her some papers to sign, and said something about 
 managing so as to give her Majesty less trouble. She 
 looked up from her paper, and said quietly : ' Pray never 
 let me hear those words again ; never mention the word 
 trouble. Only tell me how the thing is to be done, to be 
 done rightly, and I will do it if I can.' I do not know 
 whether these little anecdotes will interest you, but surely, 
 though you are so democratical, you will feel for this poor 
 little woman, placed in such an awful position in such 
 awful times. I was afterwards presented to the Duchess 
 of Kent, and had some conversation with Lord Melbourne, 
 who said many pretty things to me about my book. I go 
 to town to spend Christmas Day with my people, the first 
 time for five years ; then I am going down to stay at Lord 
 Hatherton's in Staffordshire, and then to Germany, and 
 in April back to England to meet you. Such are my pro- 
 jects. Trusting to hear from you, dearest, whenever you 
 can write, and with all kind remembrances to your whole 
 circle, and best love to your dear bright Kate, I am 
 always, your affectionate ANNA. 
 
 Early in January 1839, Mrs. Jameson writes as 
 follows from the house of Lord Hatherton, Ted- 
 desley Park, Staffordshire, to Mr. Noel : 
 
 1 It must be recollected, as an excuse for this familiarity, that Her 
 Majesty, so long looked up to by a new generation of faithful subjects, 
 was in 1838 a very young and interesting girl, naturally looked upon 
 by older people with an almost pathetic realisation of her inexperi- 
 ence and youth.
 
 '/ HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: 155 
 
 The day before I left London, I received your letter 
 of December 19, and brought it down here to answer it 
 forthwith. But a fortnight has since elapsed, and I have 
 not been able to put pen to paper. Several months of 
 harassing work and great anxiety made the change and 
 the perfect leisure of a country life in a house full of 
 agreeable people only too pleasant, and I have abandoned 
 myself to a sort of indolent indifference to all earthly 
 things except the amusement of the passing hour. This 
 does not sound like me, does it ? Nevertheless it is true. 
 
 I am staying at present with Lord and Lady Hather- 
 ton. We have had a large aristocratic party the Wilmot 
 Mortons, the Earl and Countess of Cavan, 1 the Lady Lam- 
 barts and junior Bentincks, Vernons, Bagots, all very gay ; 
 but my chief delight has been the society and affection of 
 my ci-devant pupil, Hyacinthe Littleton. My book has 
 made me very notorious, and I have been praised and 
 abused a toute outrance. It is to me already a thing quite 
 past. I have ceased to think of it, and have^turned my 
 mind to other things. I see by the papers that I am re- 
 viewed in the ' British and Foreign/ but how and in what 
 spirit I know not. Some late articles in that review, par- 
 ticularly that infamous tirade against the Custody of 
 Infants Bill, displeased me mortally. 
 
 I saw Lady Byron the very day before I left town, and 
 had a long talk with her. She was more than kind, and her 
 approbation of my views and efforts on some moral points 
 she expressed in a manner that went very near my heart. 
 
 The article in the ' British and Foreign Quar- 
 terly ' had appeared in the January number, and 
 was of a favourable and friendly character. The 
 writer takes occasion to observe that ' Mrs. Jameson 
 
 1 Third daughter of Lord Hatherton.
 
 156 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 has always stood alone among the parti-coloured 
 crowd of authoresses, but her fate is in some re- 
 spects singular. Unlike the generality of those 
 enjoying a solitary and select reputation, she has 
 hitherto passed along her literary career unscathed 
 by contemporary petulance or ill-will. For the 
 credit of human and literary nature, let it be hoped 
 that one cause of an exemption so rare in these 
 days of slander and acrimonious personality lies in 
 the sincerity of mind and purpose everywhere visible 
 throughout her works. . . . There is an instinctive 
 power by which a sincere tongue impresses all sin- 
 cere hearts with affection, and overawes falsehood 
 into silence or harmlessness ; and thus, whether we 
 judge from our own convictions or from popular 
 report, we can fully believe Mrs. Jameson when, in 
 her prelude to her " Characteristics of Women," she 
 tells us that out of the fulness of her own heart has 
 she written ; and again when in introducing her 
 " Visits and Sketches " she says : " There is in the 
 kindly feeling, the spontaneous sympathy of the 
 public towards me, something which fills me with 
 gratitude and respect, and tells me to respect my- 
 self, which I would not forfeit for the greater falat 
 which hangs round greater names ; which I will 
 not forfeit by writing one line from an unworthy 
 motive, nor flatter nor invite by withholding one 
 thought, opinion, or sentiment which I believe to
 
 '/ HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: 157 
 
 be true, and to which I can put the seal of my 
 heart's conviction." 
 
 Ample quotations from the work reviewed are 
 given, which need not be repeated here. The 
 whole critique is written, not in an exclusively lauda- 
 tory, but a carefully appreciative tone. Mrs. Jame- 
 son's ' Studies and Rambles,' her winter series of 
 short essays and biographical outlines, and her Indian 
 summer's experiences, are alike recommended to 
 such among the public as may be glad to turn from 
 the harangues of Lord Durham, and the plots of 
 Wolfred Nelson, to rest their minds upon the con- 
 templation of the relics of aboriginal life, and of the 
 scenery of lake, forest, and mountain a grandeur, 
 antiquity, and extent before which all human striv- 
 ings and aspirations are rebuked into nothingness. 
 ' It is for such readers,' adds the critic, 'that we 
 have written, and to their best graces do we sin- 
 cerely commend this last and most variously amusing 
 work of an eloquent and graceful authoress.' 
 
 Neither the activity of her mind, however, nor 
 her circumstances, permitted any long interval of 
 quiet to Mrs. Jameson ; and very soon after the 
 publication of her Canada book she began to plan 
 another visit to Germany for various motives, one 
 of which was of the kind which appealed to her 
 most warmly the trouble of a friend. This in- 
 duced her to make arrangements for setting out at
 
 158 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 a very early period of the year, though not without 
 many uncomfortable recollections of the colonial 
 journeys of which she had had so severe an ex- 
 perience. She explains in a letter dated Novem- 
 ber 24, 1838, her reasons for not delaying her 
 departure until later : 
 
 I hope to be in Germany in the beginning of February, 
 and shall be in Dresden for a week or ten days. I have 
 two reasons for undertaking this journey in the winter 
 season (though, indeed, I shiver at the thought). In the 
 first place I must be in London in April next, and the rest 
 of the year is completely cut up by engagements, so that 
 I must either see my German friends in winter or not at 
 all, which last alternative does not suit me in the least. I can 
 
 never do any good for my poor , but I may prevent 
 
 some evil perhaps. It is quite a hopeless affair, but even 
 for that very reason I cannot, and must not, and will not 
 give her up. I shall spend some little time at Weimar, and 
 then go on to Dresden. I have undertaken to translate the 
 dramas of the Princess Amelia l into English for a certain 
 purpose, which you will understand some of these days, 
 for I cannot now explain it. This is the second reason for 
 my going to Germany this winter. My poor father yet 
 lives in precisely the same state as when I came in all 
 haste from Dresden five years ago, to see him die, as I 
 then supposed. How much, dear Noel, has passed since 
 then how many events how much have I seen ! Strange 
 world, is it not ? But that I preserve yet, under circum- 
 stances and feelings which have gone nigh to crush me 
 and break me down utterly, the cheerful and hopeful 
 temper of my mind, is a thing to thank God for, which I do. 
 
 1 Of Saxony.
 
 '/ HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: 159 
 
 In the spring of 1839, during Mrs. Jameson's 
 brief absence in Germany, the family moved from 
 the pretty old-fashioned villa in St. John's Wood 
 to a house in the then new quarter of Netting Hill. 
 On her return, her home continued to be chiefly 
 here with her parents. But her mind was again 
 troubled about many things in connection with 
 pecuniary and family business, as will be apparent 
 from a letter written from London in July to Mr. 
 Noel: 
 
 Since I returned to England I have done nothing, made 
 no progress in my own affairs, but have been suffering a 
 martyrdom of vexation and care on account of my family. 
 All has been going wrong, and the exertions and the sacri- 
 fices I must make to bring all right again exceed anything 
 I could have anticipated. However, I must go through 
 with it, and with God's blessing I will. I still indulge the 
 hope of seeing you and Germany again next summer. 
 But I must struggle hard for it. England does not suit 
 me, or more properly the way of life to which I must 
 submit in England. The circumstances with which I am 
 surrounded do not suit me, are all against the wants of my 
 individual nature. Never was party feeling so bitter as at 
 this moment, never since the time of the French Revolu- 
 tion. All benevolence, all moral perceptions and feelings 
 seem annihilated by this vile spirit of party. Even this 
 subject of national education is made a party question. 
 I recollect the apathy, public and private, with which 
 this question was regarded six years ago, and am therefore 
 comforted by the manner in which it is now discussed in 
 every circle. All agree that something must be done for 
 the general education of the people, but the Churchmen
 
 160 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 wish to keep it as an instrument in their hands, the others 
 insist that it should be the business of the State. What 
 the House of Commons enact, the Lords reject ; and I 
 cannot help anticipating the possibility of the Commons 
 voting the Lords useless, as in Cromwell's time. Atten- 
 tion is also drawn to the position of the women by several 
 late publications that have taken up the matter very much 
 in my own way. One beautiful little book has appeared 
 with the title of ' Woman's Mission,' which is, however, so 
 far defective that it considers women only in the light of 
 mothers, whereas they have other relations with society. 
 I believe I shall enter the field one of these days. The 
 true position of the woman is the queen of her home,, but 
 home must become in the eyes of men more sacred than it 
 is now. In short, there is so much to be said that I must 
 not go on. 
 
 My American friend, Miss Sedgwick, has been in Eng- 
 land, and has made a most favourable impression. Lady 
 Byron in particular was very kind to her. 
 
 We are all horror-struck at this moment by the riots 
 in Birmingham houses burned, people killed. Rather 
 alarming times these ! There is an angry spirit among the 
 lower classes in this country, which, united to their bru- 
 tality, ignorance, and real wrongs, makes me a little appre- 
 hensive. But I hope much from the good sense and large 
 amount of property appertaining to the middle classes. 
 I wish myself back in Germany with all my heart. Here I 
 have no leisure to think. 
 
 Miss Sedgwick's visit to England, which Mrs. 
 Jameson had looked forward to with so much plea- 
 sure, was now over. When she proceeded to the 
 Continent after spending some time in London, Mrs.
 
 ' / HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: i6t 
 
 Jameson, although not long returned, would willingly 
 have again left England with her had circumstances 
 permitted. But this proved impossible, and the 
 interrupted correspondence was resumed as follows 
 on August 14 : 
 
 For myself, I am just beginning to collect my strength 
 to work again, for it has been a sad harassing month. I 
 am going down to Richmond to Mrs. Austin for a few 
 days, and also to Mrs. Crete's, in Buckinghamshire. One 
 of the persons I have seen most of since you left me has 
 been Lady Byron, whose fine and truly noble character 
 improves and opens upon me. I feel as if I could love 
 her very much ; but it were a bad calculation, for our paths 
 in life are so very different. She speaks of you always 
 with deep respect and interest ; and I certainly it requires 
 all the consciousness of a first duty done to console me for 
 what I lose in not being with you. But I will not be thank- 
 less. We had some pleasant hours together, and in my 
 heart rests the conviction that our meeting in London has 
 strengthened and confirmed a friendship which I accept 
 from God as a peculiar mercy, sent to me when I most 
 needed it. 
 
 In November Mrs. Jameson writes from Notting 
 Hill to her friend at Florence with a spirited defence 
 of herself from some accusation which cannot now 
 be explained. It referred apparently to her faithful 
 support, in doubtful circumstances, of a friend. 
 
 I have not stirred from home for nearly a fortnight 
 until yesterday, when I went to town on business. I have 
 
 M
 
 1 6a ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 been correcting the last sheets of my new book, which is 
 to appear soon. I despond about it terribly. . . . As 
 soon as it is published I will rush off to Paris, and 
 leave the cry of criticism behind me. The letter you 
 wrote to me from Frankfort I have never received. I have 
 
 one from Mme. K , in which you are mentioned with 
 
 great distinction. What has she been saying about me or 
 my friends to make you doubtful or anxious on my ac- 
 count ? ' What feminine tale hast thou been listening to ? ' 
 
 But I can guess, knowing Mme. K well. My dear 
 
 friend, where I am concerned, let me trust that you will 
 listen to your own heart and to me, and not to such people 
 
 as Mme. K , for whom I have a sincere respect within 
 
 her own small sphere. Within the bounds of her own mental 
 vision (about the length and breadth of Frankfort) I trust 
 to her judgment and her clearsightedness ; beyond those 
 bounds what is she ? the merest worldling. Then you add 
 something about my being the champion of my sex, and 
 shadows falling over me. Am I then here to scribble and 
 speak pretty words about women, and what I consider to 
 be the duty of woman to woman, and then, if I see a 
 woman perishing at my feet morally and physically, not 
 stretch out a hand to save a soul alive ? And this for fear 
 
 of shadows, of what the Mme. K s of this world might 
 
 say of me ? Trust to me, dear Catherine, and love me, 
 and never believe I can confound the virtue I honour with 
 profligacy, levity, and folly. 
 
 Well ! we are all well settled in our new abode, and 
 things go on pretty well ; you and yours are ever re- 
 membered with pleasure and affection by us all, and 
 your reminiscences of poor St. John's Wood touched 
 my father and mother to the heart. Mrs. Grote, Mrs. 
 Austin, Henry Reeve, Mrs. Procter, Lady Byron, and 
 Carlyle and his wife are among those whom I have seen
 
 ' / HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: 163 
 
 lately who speak of you and enquire about you, as if I ought 
 to know all concerning you. Lady Byron I have seen 
 frequently, and the more I know her the more I admire 
 her, and would, I think, love her much, for she has a rare 
 heart and mind. But it would not do ; a new friend to me 
 is not a 4 new possession, but a new pang, a new separation. 
 May God only spare to me what I have left, and may 
 I not pass my whole life in absence, for that seems my 
 fate. My friends, in the proper sense of the word, are 
 very few, and I am doomed to live in separation from 
 them. 
 
 Before the year drew to a close Mrs. Jameson's 
 book on Canada was brought out in New York, 
 together with an American edition of the ' Charac- 
 teristics of Women/ In England appeared a third 
 edition of the 'Visits and Sketches/ but the only 
 fresh literary work Mrs. Jameson had in hand seems 
 to have been what proved to her a pleasant task 
 the translation of the domestic dramas by the Prin- 
 cess Amelia of Saxony, published the year following 
 under the title of ' Social Life in Germany/ 
 
 Meantime her intimacy with Lady Byron in- 
 creased daily, an intimacy that was to colour her 
 life for years to come. She wrote from Netting 
 Hill, November 24 : 
 
 Lady Byron and I go on very well indeed ; she is most 
 kind to me, and we have long arguments and discussions, 
 sometimes agreeing and sometimes not. We are so dif- 
 ferent in structure that complete agreement were impossible. 
 It is with her as with every one else I know ; my sym- 
 
 M 2
 
 1 64 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 pathies with her are more entire than hers with me. I 
 dine with her on Friday to meet Dr. Lushington, a man I 
 have long wished to know. 
 
 Again, writing of Lady Byron some three weeks 
 later, Mrs. Jameson says : 
 
 We go on charmingly together, and I am very much 
 struck by the singular powers of her mind and her very 
 uncommon character. I begin to understand her, and 
 there is scarcely any subject on which I would not speak 
 to her openly, except those of a personal nature. I should 
 not be afraid of startling her by putting cases before her 
 
 t, 
 
 of a questionable nature, and discussing any point what- 
 ever in faith and morals. 
 
 I am thinking of Italy with hope and also with mis- 
 givings. Two things may yet detain me my poor dear 
 father's increasing illness, and the want of sufficient money. 
 I am hoarding what little I have, but the large sums I 
 have paid for my family this year will cripple my resources 
 next year. My poor father is very weak. I dare not hint 
 at the idea of going away for any time. He is now accus- 
 tomed to have me near him, and does not like me even to 
 leave the room. 
 
 Notwithstanding all which apprehensions and diffi- 
 culties she did leave England in the following 
 February, with the intention of proceeding direct 
 to Italy ; but she got no farther than Paris, whence 
 she was again summoned home by fresh fears for 
 her father's life. She writes from London on 
 March 15, 1840 :
 
 '/ HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: 165 
 
 When I wrote to you I was on the point of starting for 
 Italy. I was recalled just as I was leaving Paris for 
 Lyons, called home on my poor father's account much in 
 the same manner as at Dresden, and after a painful 
 struggle submitted to fate and duty, for in this world our 
 duties must be our destinies. I am come home in truth 
 to see my poor father die, for I believe there is little chance 
 of his rallying again, though this painful and protracted 
 sinking of all the faculties together may last some weeks 
 longer. 
 
 My position is very embarrassing and painful. I am, 
 of course, with my mother ; my home is melancholy ; I 
 cannot but feel regret for all I have abandoned, though 
 God knows I do not repent 
 
 And a month later there is still the same un- 
 certain state of things : 
 
 At present I hardly know what my destiny is like to 
 be ; it must wait upon my duty. My wish, my project, is 
 always the same ; for you know how tenacious I am when 
 once I rouse myself up to will anything strongly. I wish 
 to go to Germany this year, and take my darling little 
 Gerardine with me, but do not see that I can leave my 
 mother while my poor father exists, and how long he is to 
 linger thus is doubtful. He has recovered from a most 
 dangerous attack, which only a week ago left me with 
 little hope of his surviving beyond a few days, and we were 
 prepared for the worst. It is but a reprieve, but he is so 
 wonderfully better that he may go on thus for months. 
 Meantime, though there is much to be done and endured, 
 I cannot say I am unhappy : my mind is very serene, and I 
 am so engrossed by the affairs, and interests, and sufferings 
 of others, I have no time to think about myself. Besides
 
 1 66 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 I have just undertaken a new book, a laborious thing, 
 which will pay me well, and must be finished as soon as 
 possible. . . . Another work of a much more important 
 kind, which has been in my head for four years past, I 
 shall probably finish in Germany. 
 
 You may possibly have heard that Charles Kemble 
 has been in town till now, detained by the Queen's com- 
 mand, who wished to see him in some of his principal cha- 
 racters. He has acted admirably, and is at the same time 
 in the very first society in London. I went with Lady 
 Lovelace to see him play Hamlet, and was wonder- 
 struck by the vigour, the grace, and the exquisite truth of 
 the personification. 
 
 The laborious work to which Mrs. Jameson 
 alludes in the latter part of this letter was the com- 
 piling of an elaborate catalogue raisonnd, or companion 
 and guide to the various private art collections to 
 which the public obtained admission in London, 
 such as the Ellesmere and Grosvenor Galleries, and 
 the collections of the Queen and Sir Robert Peel. 
 Although this was the first of her contributions to 
 art-literature, the name of Mrs. Jameson as an 
 earnest student and connoisseur was already suffi- 
 ciently well known to insure her every possible 
 facility and consideration on the part of the 
 noble owners of art collections. In the course of 
 the year 1841, the 'Companion ' appeared in separate 
 and collected form, and was, I believe, a successful 
 speculation for the publisher. A few letters are 
 still extant referring to this work, having a special
 
 1 1 HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: 167 
 
 interest belonging to them, and which I therefore 
 venture to insert here ; taking first in order, al- 
 though not first in date, a letter from the Hon. 
 Amelia Murray, dated Buckingham Palace, August 2, 
 1842 : 
 
 MY DEAR MRS. JAMESON, I sent down a petition after 
 you left me yesterday, that the Queen might give me an 
 opportunity of speaking to her in the course of the after- 
 noon. Although much hurried, she saw me for a few 
 minutes, and listened with evident pleasure to the little 
 explanations which you wished made respecting the cata- 
 logue, and read your few words in the title-page with one 
 of her sweetest smiles. She then said, ' Pray thank Mrs. 
 Jameson for me very much' She stood for a few minutes 
 quietly turning over the leaves, and glancing her eye over 
 some of the descriptions. I then remarked that, Her 
 Majesty having been so gracious in her frequent permis- 
 sions to me to take Mrs. Jameson into the gallery, I was 
 particularly anxious to present the fruit of those visits with 
 my own hand. ' Ah, exactly ! ' she said, and, making me 
 a graceful kind of half bow, half curtsey, which she some- 
 times does when she is pleased almost in a playful manner, 
 she ran lightly off with the book in her hand, as if she was 
 going to show her treasure to the Prince. 
 
 I describe this little scene exactly, and I am sure you 
 have every reason to be gratified by the manner in which 
 your offering was accepted. With the Queen everything 
 depends upon the expression of her countenance to those 
 who know how to read it. She endeavours to receive what 
 is offered to her in a right spirit graciously, but when it is 
 only the intention and not the gift which has any value to 
 her, she says a few kind words with an unconscious look
 
 1 68 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 of indifference at the article she has to receive ; so she 
 regarded a certain diamond necklace and ornaments I 
 once saw brought to her from the Imaum of Muscat, but 
 I was gratified to see that your catalogue elicited one of 
 her beaming smiles, such as are rarely bestowed save upon 
 her own husband. Few are yet sensible what a fascinating 
 creature she is ! The perfect truth and simplicity which 
 are united to such depth and strength of character give an 
 interest to every look and a charm to every word she 
 utters. ' But I must stop. If I once allow my feelings full 
 vent in speaking of my dear young mistress, I know not 
 how to stop ; and most people believe me but a courtier 
 after all. But I think, my dear Mrs. Jameson, you know 
 me well enough to believe that it is indeed 'out of the 
 fulness of the heart ' that the pen writeth, and that only 
 a hearty appreciation of the character could make me 
 admire my Queen as I do. 
 
 This letter should, perhaps, have followed rather 
 than preceded the next in due regard to dates, as it 
 alludes to the royal reception given to the complete 
 work, whereas these are letters written while the 
 catalogues were in progress. The translation of 
 Dr. Waagen's ' Life of Peter Paul Rubens ' by Mr. 
 Noel, with Mrs. Jameson's introduction and notes, 
 had appeared in the spring, and Sir Robert Peel's 
 letter refers to this work also : 
 
 Whitehall, May 5, 1840. Sir Robert Peel presents his 
 compliments to Mrs. Jameson, and is much obliged by her 
 kind attention in sending to Sir Robert Peel the work on 
 Rubens, which Sir Robert Peel has read with great interest 
 and satisfaction.
 
 < I HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: 169 
 
 Almost every picture of the Dutch and Flemish school 
 in Sir Robert Peel's collection (indeed he believes every 
 one) is described in the work of Smith and Waagen. He 
 will send Mrs. Jameson the references to the pages of 
 Smith's work in which his pictures are referred to, and 
 thus probably save Mrs. Jameson some trouble. 
 
 He will send also an account of the portraits he has 
 by Sir Joshua Reynolds, which are not mentioned by 
 Smith. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson shall have every facility of access to the 
 pictures, and as Sir Robert Peel may probably again leave 
 town with his family for a few days, he will apprise Mrs. 
 Jameson of the period, as she would then incur no risk of 
 being interfered with. If Mrs. Jameson should wish to 
 see them at an earlier time, he can easily make arrange- 
 ments for the purpose. 
 
 Lord Lansdowne writes : 
 
 MY DEAR MADAM, I have, since I had the pleasure 
 of seeing you, made two very pretty acquisitions, the last I 
 mean to indulge in for some time to come ; and if you 
 happen to come into town any morning, one of them, I am 
 sure (being a ' Leonardo da Vinci,' and as true a one at 
 least as any that exists in this country), you . would con- 
 sider, cataloguing apart, as repaying you for the trouble of 
 a call. 
 
 I shall be in town and at home about eleven o'clock 
 every morning for the rest of the week, but will leave 
 directions, if I am out, for you to be shown the ' Leonardo ' 
 and the Both.' 
 
 I have been favoured with the following memo- 
 randum from Mrs. Grote, in which an account is given
 
 170 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 of a journey taken in the interest of this work. I 
 quote this little contribution as it stands, though only 
 a portion belongs to the real course of the narrative, 
 as an additional testimony of regard from one of my 
 aunt's distinguished contemporaries. 
 
 Memorandum concerning my Ancient Relations with the 
 late Anna Jameson, ne'e Murphy. Feb. 8, 1878. 
 
 As far as my memory serves, my acquaintance with 
 Mrs. Jameson must have begun somewhere about the year 
 1837. She was then living with her sisters, at their house 
 on Notting Hill. Mrs. Jameson was introduced to me 
 by the Kemble family, Mr. Henry Reeve, Mr. Henry 
 Chorley, and Mrs. Procter being our common acquaint- 
 ances. She was then employed in literary composition 
 of various kinds. Mrs. Jameson devoted her talents more 
 to art than to any other subject at the time I am speaking 
 of. She had a superior understanding, was possessed of 
 great energy of character, and was a favourite with us all. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson was not fortunate in her marriage in 
 fact, she and her husband never lived together. He occu- 
 pied a comfortable position as Attorney-General of Canada, 
 allowing his wife a small annuity. 
 
 Feeling desirous of promoting her views in connection 
 with the literature of art, I invited Mrs. Jameson to ac- 
 company me in my own postchaise on a journey of 150 
 miles which I was about to make, in the summer of 1840. 
 The object of this journey was to pay a visit to my friend 
 the Rev. Sydney Smith, at his parsonage in Somersetshire ; 
 but I intended to take the opportunity of seeing several 
 collections of pictures which lay on my track to the West. 
 I first halted at Wilton House, to pay my respects to my 
 old friend Lady Pembroke, and Mrs. Jameson profited by
 
 '/ HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: 171 
 
 this good chance to look attentively over the pictures con- 
 tained in that noble mansion. 
 
 After leaving Wilton, we travelled to Stourhead, putting 
 up for two nights at the pleasant little inn adjoining the 
 grounds of Sir Richard Colt Hoare, Bart. Several hours 
 were spent in looking through the collection of pictures 
 and antiquities at this well-known country seat, Mrs. 
 Jameson making notes of the most interesting portions 
 for future use. 
 
 We proceeded next to Combe Florey (the chief object 
 of my journey, as has been said), Mrs. Jameson going to 
 stay with a friend not very far from Taunton, and rejoining 
 me at Mr. Sydney Smith's after my week's visit. We 
 posted thence to Bristol, for the purpose of seeing the fine 
 collection of pictures at Leigh Court, the residence of Mr. 
 Miles. 
 
 From Bristol we proceeded by the great Bath road to 
 Chippenham, in order to visit thence the collection of the 
 Marquis of Lansdowne, at Bowood, which visit afforded 
 Mrs. Jameson, as well as myself, great pleasure and in- 
 struction. Mrs. Jameson always felt and expressed a lively 
 sense of my kindness in affording her these valuable 
 opportunities of adding to her artistic experiences ; and I 
 must confess that her conversation and cheerful temper 
 added sensibly to the enjoyment of my own excursion. 
 Mrs. Jameson was much at our house in London during 
 the years 1840, 1841, 1842, and 1843. After this date our 
 intercourse became less frequent, from various explainable 
 causes, though I never had reason to alter my opinion of 
 her merits. She was always at work, striving to promote 
 the comfort and welfare of others ; and, after the death of 
 her father, her strenuous endeavours were mainly directed 
 to the maintenance and education of her niece, Gerardine, 
 to whom she was fondly attached.
 
 i?2 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson became intimately connected with the 
 late Lady Byron, and was so engrossed with that lady's 
 family and concerns that she ceased to maintain several of 
 her old social connections for some years. I myself almost 
 lost sight of her, and scarcely recollect any particulars of 
 her personal course beyond the publication of her work on 
 Sacred Art. She passed a long time in Italy about that 
 period, I believe. 
 
 I hope some suitable memoir may be forthcoming, ere 
 long, of this clever, amiable, and benevolent woman, of 
 whom no one could ever speak in any other terms than 
 those implying admiration of her talents and esteem for 
 
 her personal character. 
 
 H. GROTE. 
 
 P.S. I regret to have destroyed all Mrs. Jameson's 
 letters to myself (and that within the last five years), along 
 with many other letters far less interesting. 
 
 That, notwithstanding all such sympathy and 
 encouragement, the actual labour demanded by the 
 task undertaken was almost too much for the 
 strength of the compiler, is evidenced by the follow- 
 ing letter written from Notting Hill on Novem- 
 ber 1 7 : 
 
 I believe I told you that I had undertaken a new book 
 called a ' Companion to the Galleries of Art.' It has 
 proved a most laborious affair ; the research and accuracy 
 required have almost beaten me, and I am not easily 
 beaten. It is a sort of thing which ought to have fallen 
 into the hands of Dr. Waagen, or some such bigwig, in- 
 stead of poor little me. Add that being at some distance 
 from town, and without any near assistance, sympathy, or
 
 ' I HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: 173 
 
 companionship, my difficulties have been much increased 
 by circumstances. I am to receive 3OO/. for it (one volume), 
 and I expect it will be finished by next February. The 
 printing has begun, and what with preparing MS., hunting 
 dates and names through musty ponderous authorities, 
 travelling to the British Museum, wearing out my eyes 
 over manuscript or ill-printed catalogues, and correcting 
 the press to keep up with the printers, the most irritating 
 thing possible, I have never one moment of leisure in the 
 week. I am hunted by care from the moment I rise till 
 I go to rest. Then I must devote some part of my day to 
 my poor father, who still drags on a sort of half-existence ; 
 and my family in other respects are a source of deep 
 anxiety. I do not tell you all this, dear Noel, by way of 
 complaint, but simply of excuse. No reason have I to 
 complain. My health is excellent in general, except that 
 I suffer from my eyes. My mind is quite serene ; and if 
 I have ceased to live for myself, or think of happiness, I 
 have not ceased to hope ; and my first hope, that to 
 which I hold fast through everything, is to go to Germany 
 for a couple of years. This, if I live, I will do, and so 
 much for my own history finis. 
 
 Lady Byron, I grieve to say, is yet at Paris, where she 
 has been very ill. I miss her inexpressibly. She has 
 taken to me kindly, and the more I know her the more I 
 love her. It is one of the most singular minds and cha- 
 racters that ever fell under my contemplation, and the 
 effect which retirement from the world and sorrow have 
 had on the original texture, is to me a perpetual source of 
 interest. 
 
 In the following year Mrs. Jameson undertook 
 for the columns of the ' Penny Magazine ' a series 
 of articles on the early Italian painters that attracted
 
 174 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 much attention to, and rapidly increased the circula- 
 tion of, that periodical at the time, and, when pub- 
 lished in 1845 in one small volume, became one of 
 her most popular works. The ' Athenseum ' of 
 August 1 6 of that year has an article on this little 
 book, highly commending its price (one shilling) and 
 its scope the artistical education of the masses. 
 
 Later, when the copyright passed into Mr. 
 Murray's hands, Mrs. Jameson revised the whole, 
 and editions were published in 1858 and 1859 ; and 
 again in 1868, years after the active pen of the 
 writer was stopped for ever, another edition was 
 found advisable. I believe this to have been the 
 only work of my aunt's translated into the French 
 language. In 1862, Messrs. Hachette, of Paris, 
 published ' La Peinture et les Peintres italiens,' 
 rendered into French by M. Ferdinand Labour. 
 The translator's preface concludes with these words : 
 
 La critique anglaise, quelquefois un peu depourvue 
 d'imagination, est presque toujours empreinte d'un rare 
 bon sens ; souvent 6rudite, elle m^prise le clinquant et 
 entre dans des details pratiques et techniques fort utiles. 
 
 C'est persuad6 d'avoir trouv6 ces qualitds se"rieuses 
 dans le livre de Mrs. Jameson, que j'ai entrepris la tra- 
 duction de la ' Vie des Peintres italiens.' Mrs. Jameson 
 parle des arts en Anglaise qui examine tout avec scrupule, 
 en femme qui aime passionnement la peinture, en touriste 
 qui, ayant beaucoup vu et beaucoup voyage, n'est nullement 
 exclusive-; en erudite qui, ayant immensement lu, com-
 
 '/ HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: 175 
 
 pare les opinions de tons avant de faire valoir les siennes. 
 Cependant la reunion de ces differentes qualite*s ne ferait 
 pas encore du livre de Mrs. Jameson un livre d'une lecture 
 facile et agre"able, commode a consulter dans un salon, 
 tel enfin que bon nombre de personnes qui, sans etre 
 artistes, aiment cependant les arts sans trop vouloir les 
 approfondir, avaient le droit de 1'exiger, si Mrs. Jameson 
 n'avait e"t6 avant tout un 6crivain d'un tact exquis, d'un 
 gout parfait, qui juge les peintres en veritable connaisseur 
 et en parle en femme de monde. 
 
 The series of dramas illustrative of ' Social Life 
 in Germany,' published under that title, and trans- 
 lated from the German of the Princess Amelia of 
 Saxony, came out this year, but was not, I believe, 
 a success, pecuniarily speaking ; nor did any of the 
 plays, however in themselves pleasing and charac- 
 teristic, prove to be adapted, as Mrs. Jameson had 
 been encouraged to expect, for the tastes and re- 
 quirements of an English audience. 
 
 The success of the ' Companion to the Private 
 Galleries' induced Mrs. Jameson to arrange with 
 Mr. Murray for the issue of a work in similar form 
 under the title of a ' Handbook to the Public 
 Galleries in and near London.' This came out in 
 January 1842, and the 'Athenaeum' early in the 
 following month dedicated its leading article to a 
 favourable review of Mrs. Jameson's ' Handbook,' 
 giving abundant extracts and a large meed of praise, 
 and concluding by describing it as ' one of the best
 
 1 76 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 executed works which has been turned out in these 
 days of broken literary promises and unperformed 
 literary duties.' 
 
 The autumn of 1841 Mrs. Jameson had spent 
 in Paris, studying early art in all its forms for the 
 work above alluded to, and also with an eye to the 
 more important work still, which had been for years 
 in contemplation. To her sister Charlotte she 
 wrote : 
 
 The great event of my life here has been the meeting 
 with Rio. 1 I have introduced him to Mrs. Forster, and to 
 her son-in-law, M. de Triqueti, and all parties are so de- 
 lighted with each other that I have had cordial thanks on 
 both sides for being the means of making them known to 
 each other. M. de Triqueti is a fine artist, a sculptor, 
 and altogether an admirable creature. He had previously 
 fallen in love with Rio's book, and now I think it will prove 
 an eternal friendship. I am in the Louvre every day at 
 least, studying, and that so carefully that I am not yet 
 beyond the Italian school in the Salle des Tableaux, nor 
 beyond the first room in the Galerie des Dessins, and I 
 have not set foot in the Gallery of Sculpture. I have 
 twice been at the Louvre with Rio and De Triqueti at my 
 elbow, and have profited accordingly. I have only been 
 to the Opera once, and I am going to see ' Rachel ' to- 
 night, and this, I think, comprises my whole history since 
 I have been here. 
 
 Of M. de Triqueti Mrs. Jameson also wrote 
 about this time to her friend Noel, saying : 
 
 1 Author of La Pofaic chrttienne.
 
 1 1 HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: 177 
 
 I have made the acquaintance of a sculptor here, who 
 more than any other being I ever met with, one excepted, 1 
 fulfils my idea of an artist ; nay, he is more artist, perhaps, 
 but less robust in mind, and with a narrower circle of 
 faculties, but as an artist exquisitely endowed. His name 
 is Henri de Triqueti ; he is happily married, has children, 
 is independent, exists but for his art and his affections. 
 You will hear of him some day ; he has done such beau- 
 tiful things ! This artist, and a very agreeable and accom- 
 plished literary woman, Italian by birth, are my only new 
 acquisitions. I do not like new things of any kind, not 
 even a new gown, far less a new acquaintance, therefore 
 make as few as possible ; one can but have one's heart and 
 hands full, and mine are. I have love and work enough 
 to last me the rest of my life. 
 
 I have read the accounts of your somnambulist, and am 
 much interested ; but I am still incredulous, because I 
 have not yet seen anything which has forced conviction 
 on me, and in this case nothing but seeing is believing. 
 No experiments on myself have succeeded, and none that 
 I ever witnessed have satisfied me. When I am with you 
 at Rosawitz, we will enter on the subject, and you shall 
 convince me, for I am open to conviction. The mere con- 
 templation of the subject, with all its possible bearings and 
 results, strikes me with perplexity, wonder, and awe. 
 
 Mr. Noel has appended a note to this letter, in 
 which he states that the somnambulist above re- 
 ferred to was a so-called ideo-somnambulist, and had 
 
 1 I believe she here alludes to their mutual friend, the sculptor, 
 Henry Behnes Burlowe, whose career had been cut short during the 
 fearful cholera season in Rome, 1837, and whose remains were interred 
 in the Protestant cemetery there. 
 
 N
 
 178 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 never been subjected to experiments. When at 
 a later period Mrs. Jameson was made acquainted 
 with the singular phenomena which had been ob- 
 served, she was very much interested in the case. 
 
 One more letter of hers I have found of this 
 date, addressed to her favourite youngest sister, her 
 dearly loved ' little Charlotte,' giving, as usual in all 
 her charming home letters, details that bring her 
 inner simplicity of life and character before us : 
 
 A thousand thanks (she writes) for your most welcome 
 comfortable letter ! I go on much more quietly, and mind 
 my business more effectually, when I am at ease about my 
 dear home, though, in the excess of my self-conceit, I 
 wonder how papa can possibly exist without 'his little 
 Anna.' I begin to be uneasy about my letters, those 
 which are lying at home for me ; and if, dear Charlotte, 
 you could take them down to Mrs. Montagu, and ask her 
 if she could forward them by Count de Revel, it would be 
 a comfort to me. I think they might be made up into two 
 packets, and so forwarded ; but to pay ten or twelve shil- 
 lings postage I cannot afford, for my money is going fast, and 
 I must keep what will take me home. My time goes, as 
 usual, in the Louvre, and making notes, and buying old 
 books about the saints and the Fine Arts, in which only I 
 have been rather extravagant. 
 
 Monday last I went to Versailles, breakfasted there with 
 M. and Mme. Rio, and then spent the day at the Palace, 
 walking through it rather than seeing anything parti- 
 cular. I must go again and examine more carefully the 
 historical portraits, of which there are five hundred or 
 more.
 
 '/ HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH! 179 
 
 Can you find out when Adelaide Kemble makes her 
 dtbut at Covent Garden ? 
 
 After this period of study and research, Mrs. 
 Jameson returned to London for the Christmas of 
 1841. The words from her own letter, which I 
 have ventured to place at the head of this chapter, 
 describe the actual condition of things with her 
 better than any other words could possibly attempt 
 to do. The work was incessant and laborious, but 
 the love was of that gentle domestic kind which 
 makes little show of itself, and is in very few instances 
 so complete a sustenance for the heart as it proved 
 in her case. To few persons well on in the course 
 of middle life would the clinging affection of mother 
 and sisters, the adoration of a sick and sometimes 
 exacting father, to whom this woman, already con- 
 scious of the pressure of years on her own head, 
 was still his ' little Anna,' be ' love enough ' to con- 
 sole for all the deprivations of fate. But it is well 
 to have an instance now and then that family affec- 
 tion is capable of bearing even such a test. Literary 
 women have had at all times a large share of the 
 easy ridicule of the inconsiderate, and have been 
 often held up to the admiration of the world as 
 ' emancipating' themselves from common ties. How 
 many among them have been the support and stay 
 of their families, the one bread-winner upon whom 
 many helpless or disabled relatives depended, it is not 
 
 N 2
 
 i8o ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 for me to say ; though I believe the number is out 
 of all proportion to that of family benefactors in any 
 other class. But I may be permitted, as a member 
 of this individual family in question, to say how 
 entirely it hung upon this one gifted daughter, who 
 loyally stood by every member of it in all their 
 difficulties, and kept the household roof sacred, and 
 had nothing so much at heart as to secure its happi- 
 ness. This was my aunt's first thought at all times, 
 and with all the recollections which my memory 
 cherishes of her love and tenderness, the sense that 
 amid the impoverishments of her life she still had 
 ' love enough ' to strengthen her for the heat and 
 burden of the day is to myself inexpressibly 
 touching, and cannot be without interest, it seems to 
 me, to all sympathetic minds. 
 
 This family life, however, was about to receive a 
 melancholy check and change. The father, who 
 had been a source of so much anxiety for many 
 years, and whose danger had already more than 
 once called her from the midst of serious occupations 
 and interests, which she had never hesitated to re- 
 sign at this call, had now reached the end of his 
 lingering malady, and died a few months after her 
 return from France, in March of the year 1842, 
 leaving the mother and two sisters altogether de- 
 pendent upon Mrs. Jameson's care. Of a loss so 
 natural, so long expected, and now so far back in the
 
 '/ HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENOUGH: i8t 
 
 mist of years, there is very little more than the fact 
 to record ; but I may quote here a letter of Miss 
 Martineau's on the subject, which gives a gratifying 
 tribute to my grandfather's powers as an artist, and 
 at the same time represents the writer herself in a 
 more friendly and amiable light than her posthu- 
 mous reflections upon all her friends have left upon 
 her memory now. The letter is written from her 
 sick-room, before the cure which made so much 
 noise in the world, and is dated March 26, 1842 : 
 
 For weeks I have wanted to write to you, but I have 
 been too ill to write to anybody, except necessary notes in 
 pencil. When I mention blistering and salivating, I shall 
 have said enough. I hope I am at last rising to my usual 
 state, but I should have waited much longer if I had not 
 heard, first of your increased distress about your father, and 
 now of his release. I cannot but hope that you will all soon 
 feel peaceful because he is at rest. Long, long has been his 
 and your suffering, and your present blank will soon be 
 filled up with a grateful sense of rest for him and for 
 yourselves. I and mine had an interest in him besides 
 his being your father. He knew from us how everlast- 
 ingly obliged we felt to him for the precious likeness he 
 made for us of our most beloved brother, who died in 
 1824. Mr. Murphy was interested in him, as everybody 
 was, and proved it by presenting his very soul in the por- 
 trait. Never was there a truer likeness ; and the comfort 
 and pleasure it has been to all of us ever since, no words 
 can tell. 
 
 I hope Mr. Murphy was able to know of the success 
 of your ' Handbook.' How pleased I was to see the
 
 i8 2 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 ' Athenaeum ' notice of it, and some others'! It must be 
 about as difficult a work to do well as one could set him- 
 self to, requiring a variety of powers of knowledge, and 
 thoroughly good judges seem to think you have done it. 
 
 Yet, in spite of Miss Martineau's congratulations 
 on the success of the ' Handbook,' her sympathies 
 were not heartily with Mrs. Jameson's art labours 
 at any time. Art was no weakness of hers, and in a 
 letter dated shortly before, she had written a propos 
 of this very work : ' Do have done with your me- 
 chanical work as soon as you can, and give us more 
 of your own mind. Till then I rest on your Canada 
 book, which is very dear to me.' 
 
 The only other record I find of her father's death 
 is contained in the following letter to Miss Sedgwick, 
 who by this time had returned to her home in Mas- 
 sachusetts. 
 
 It is long since I have written to you, dearest Catherine, 
 long since I have heard from you. One might as well 
 have one's friend in heaven as across the Atlantic. I 
 know not what has come over me of late. I try to be 
 cheerful and see things from a bright point of view ; but 
 do you remember what I once, and more than once, have 
 said to you, that absence and partings have been the curses 
 of my existence ? I am afraid I have neither religion 
 enough, nor philosophy enough, nor youth enough, nor 
 life enough, to exist through faith in the absent and the 
 distant and the invisible ; and when I take up the pen to 
 write to you, I am so painfully struck by the hopelessness 
 of our separation in this world, that I could almost throw
 
 'I HAVE LOVE AND WORK ENO UGH: 1 83 
 
 it down again with an ' a quoi bon ? ' And then the past 
 comes over me again, and I see your kind, affectionate face 
 before me, and I feel that I cannot afford to be forgotten 
 by you, my good and dear friend. 
 
 When I wrote to you last, my father's life was fast 
 hurrying to a close. About a fortnight later he died. You 
 know all this, perhaps, and you ought to have heard it 
 from myself. But I know not why or how it was I could 
 not write. I had prepared you for it, and I knew you 
 would hear it. There was terrible previous suffering, a 
 long, gradual agony ; but the last few hours were peaceful 
 and without pain. He was conscious, and his mind and 
 affections alive, till within twenty -four hours of his death. 
 I have since had much to arrange, and am now in the 
 midst of trouble and perplexity ; but all will be clear 
 before me soon. 
 
 Of our mutual friends here Mrs. Grote has spent the 
 winter abroad, and returned home only within these few 
 days, looking thin and worn, but her mind full to over- 
 flowing, and her heart as warm as ever. Mrs. Austin is 
 settled at Dresden. My principal comfort through all the 
 misery of the last six months has been in the constant 
 kindness and affection of Lady Byron. When I run over 
 thus the list of my friends, and add my mother and family, 
 can you not imagine with what feelings I contemplate the 
 expediency of going to Germany ? The parting with Lady 
 Byron will cost me most it will be a pang, a wrench, like 
 an uprooting.
 
 1 84 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 * 
 
 FRIENDS. 
 
 MR. MURPHY'S death made several family changes 
 possible and expedient. Her mother and sisters 
 became now Mrs. Jameson's chief care. The house 
 which they had occupied at Netting Hill was given 
 up, and the family established themselves in a 
 smaller house at Ealing. During all this time her 
 own desire to go abroad for some years had never 
 been abandoned, as the frequent allusions, and, in- 
 deed, perpetual plans and preparations, show ; and 
 the new habitation was chosen rather for the com- 
 fort and quiet of the family than for her own. 
 Possibly the near neighbourhood to Lady Byron's 
 house, Fordhook, had suggested the choice of the 
 then small village of Ealing as a residence to 
 which she herself might come to rest from time to 
 time. 1 But her fixed plan was to go to Germany 
 and Italy. She had, indeed, many inducements for 
 
 1 Lady Byron quitted Fordhook for Esher in the course of this 
 year.
 
 FRIENDS. 185 
 
 this much-desired journey ; not only the desire to 
 meet once more friends to whom she was warmly 
 attached, but the intention of preparing more ade- 
 quately for the work she had been for a long time 
 turning over in her mind, the series of volumes that 
 proved the most important undertaking of her life, 
 her books upon ' Sacred and Legendary Art.' 
 
 But delay after delay intervened, and the scheme 
 of travel she had at heart was not even commenced 
 till three years later. 
 
 I will endeavour here to give some idea of the 
 friendships which were the solace of my aunt's life 
 at this period of her career. By right of age, and 
 because of the great reputation as a poet which was 
 once so willingly conceded to her, and which it is now 
 so difficult to realise, the first is Mrs. Joanna Baillie, 
 from whom (in addition to the one already given) 
 I may quote one or two letters, in which the kind, 
 courteous, sensible old Scotch gentlewoman is more 
 apparent than the poet. On one of my aunt's visits 
 to Hampstead, shortly after this time, she took me, 
 then a child, and just beginning to enter upon the 
 privilege I afterwards enjoyed more fully of going 
 with her wherever she went, as her companion. 
 
 The idea of going to see the authoress of 
 ' De Montfort ' and ' Basil,' the tragic verse that 
 had fed my childish fancy for the mysterious and 
 poetical, was in itself somewhat awful. But when
 
 i86 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 we reached the little house in which the sisters 
 lived, I am not sure that the relief with which I 
 found myself nestling to the side of a gently-smiling, 
 white-haired old lady, whose dignity could conde- 
 scend to amuse her child-visitor with tales of the 
 second sight and thrilling ghost stories which she 
 had heard from Sir Walter Scott, all-puissant au- 
 thority to her small listener, was not slightly 
 tinctured with disappointment. It was a disillusion 
 to an imaginative child, fed upon poetry from her 
 earliest years, to find one whom she had heard 
 spoken of as a great poet, only, after all, a kind old 
 lady, though one of the kindest of the kind. The 
 other old lady of the house, the Sister Agnes, to 
 whom Mrs. Joanna devoted her tenderest care, and 
 who sat by the fireside, wearing, always, the quaintest 
 of black bonnets, was a bewildering figure, and oc- 
 cupied a large place in the confused recollections of 
 the visit so much looked forward to. 
 
 Now, indeed, the fact of having spent a day at 
 Hampstead with Joanna Baillie, comes back to the 
 memory as one of the pleasantest recollections of a 
 lifetime ; the simplicity, in itself heroic, of the poet 
 and her surroundings, can be appreciated better 
 than at that early age when the ideal appeared 
 somewhat trenched on by the real, and the tragic 
 muse in domestic life suffered some loss of starry 
 effulgence.
 
 FRIENDS. 187 
 
 The letter which I quote is dated November 
 1842, and shows us something of the other friend 
 to whom both the writer and her correspondent 
 clung so affectionately, and of their feelings towards 
 her: 
 
 MY DEAR MRS. JAMESON, I thank you for your very 
 kind note received yesterday, along with a short despatch 
 from Lady Byron, and some very mournful letters from 
 America, informing me of the death of Dr. Channing. I 
 would scarcely write to you now, were I not afraid that 
 you might have left Esher if I delayed. The verses you 
 have been kind enough to transcribe for me are beautiful, 1 
 and were they found among any new version of Words- 
 worth's poems, they would be very much admired. The 
 leading thought that runs through the whole is true and 
 striking, and, I think, original. Yet I have verses of hers 
 that I like still better. She is, ' take her for all in all,' a 
 very extraordinary creature. The lines on your portrait 
 by your father I shall be very glad to see, and in looking 
 at the miniature itself I will take my chance of all the 
 changes you threaten me with. A looking-forward face 
 has the advantage no doubt in expression, but your look- 
 ing-back face has gained in variety what it may have lost 
 in eager anticipation, and we have no right to find fault 
 with it at all. 
 
 I must now return to what has for hours past most 
 occupied my thoughts, the loss we have all sustained in 
 the death of that highly gifted and excellent man. He 
 has done the present generation much good, and, had he 
 been spared in the world, might have done^ much more. 
 
 This refers to a little poem by Lady Byron.
 
 1 88 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 The brightness of his character had a sweetness belonging 
 to it akin to the beings of a better world, to which he was 
 constantly pointing the way. Miss Sedgwick has given me 
 some account of his last illness, and it was very kind in 
 her to write, for her eyes are so weak she is forbid to do 
 so, and she has had great affliction from deaths in her own 
 family. 
 
 The account you give of your friend Miss Martineau is 
 very interesting, and one cannot but admire her more than 
 ever, bearing up so nobly under circumstances that would 
 have depressed almost everyone else, I feel myself greatly 
 flattered by her kind remembrance. Little did I think 
 during that last short visit how much suffering lay before 
 her, and that we (for so it must be) should never meet 
 again. 
 
 I have already referred several times to the en- 
 thusiastic friendship which had sprung up between 
 my aunt and Lady Byron. Almost all the leisure she 
 had from her many occupations was spent with Lady 
 Byron, either at Esher, from which favourite residence 
 the pretty pair of chestnuts came often to the nest at 
 Ealing to carry back Mrs. Jameson across the quiet 
 country roads, or in London, or at Brighton ; and 
 in the intervals of personal intercourse an incessant 
 correspondence was maintained between them. The 
 remarkable woman of whom the world has heard so 
 much, and knows so little, had evidently seized 
 upon Mrs. Jameson's imagination as well as her 
 heart. Lady Byron's character was a source of un- 
 failing and unceasing wonder and admiration to her,
 
 FRIENDS. 189 
 
 claiming the interest of an intellectual problem, as 
 well as the love of devoted friendship. At first 
 beginning it was, perhaps, the interest rather than 
 the warmer tie between them that chiefly shows 
 itself in the constant references to Lady Byron in 
 Mrs. Jameson's letters ; but the affection grew more 
 absorbing as time went on, and at the period (1844) 
 which we have now reached, it was in its fullest 
 tide. The sphinx-woman, so continually wondered 
 at in her lifetime, so unhappily betrayed after her 
 death, to whom at first my aunt does not seem to 
 have been attracted except by the curious interest 
 which a character so impenetrable always awakens, 
 had so far unfolded herself as to win the warmest 
 sympathy and tenderness of a mind so attuned to 
 friendship. 
 
 What amount of confidence there was between 
 them on subjects only too painfully discussed 
 since then, I am happily unable to say. Mrs. 
 Jameson was singularly free from all inclination 
 towards the miserable investigations of social scan- 
 dal. Her friend, afterwards her neighbour, the 
 noble lady, so distinguished as the poet's wife, so 
 impressive as the poet's widow, mysterious in at- 
 traction and repulsion, an historical character though 
 a living woman, was to myself one of the awful but 
 beneficent deities to whom youth looks up with in- 
 stinctive dread, yet with dumb criticism. Her name
 
 i 9 o ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 cannot be passed over without a word. That, at 
 least, her strange fate has secured her, whether or 
 not the veil that is over her life may ever be fairly 
 and honestly withdrawn. 
 
 There is scarcely a letter of this period which 
 has not some allusion in it to ' Lady B.,' whose 
 share in everything Mrs. Jameson was doing or 
 thinking seems to have been taken as a matter of 
 course. 
 
 And it was during the course of this summer 
 that Mrs. Jameson made the acquaintance of Miss 
 Barrett, I believe through the good offices of Mr. 
 Kenyon, their mutual friend. Mrs. Jameson was 
 at the time staying with Miss Caroline Kindersley, 
 at 51 Wimpole Street, next door to the house in 
 which Miss Barrett resided. This early period of 
 their acquaintance produced a multitude of tiny 
 notes in fairy handwriting, such as Miss Barrett was 
 wont to indite to her friends, and which are still in 
 existence. Some of these are most charming and 
 characteristic, and illustrate the rise and rapid in- 
 crease of a friendship that never faltered or grew 
 cool from that time up to the death of Mrs. 
 Jameson. 
 
 One of the first which I have found addressed 
 to 'dear Mrs. Jameson/ a name speedily changed, 
 as circumstances brought them into closer inter- 
 course, for one more endearing and familiar, play-
 
 FRIENDS. 
 
 191 
 
 fully discusses the writer's loss of voice, which was 
 one of the occasional troubles of her invalid con- 
 dition : 
 
 I am used to lose my voice and find it again (Miss 
 Barrett writes), until the vicissitude comes to appear as 
 natural to me as the post itself. . . . You are not to think 
 that I should not have been delighted to have you in a 
 monodram, as I heard Mr. Kenyon one morning when he 
 came and talked for an hour, as he can talk, while the 
 audience could only clap her hands or shake her head for 
 the yea and nay. I should have been delighted to be just 
 such an audience to you, but with you I was too much a 
 stranger to propose such a thing, and the necessary silence 
 might have struck you, I thought, as ungrateful and un- 
 comprehending. But now I am not dumb any longer, 
 only hoarse, and whenever I can hear your voice it will be 
 better for me altogether. 
 
 Amid all these new relationships, however, the 
 most constant and lasting of all, my aunt's intimacy 
 with Mr. Noel and his wife, continued fervent and 
 faithful as ever a friendship full of mutual good 
 offices, as will be seen from the following letter : 
 
 Do not send me any German translations which are 
 not your own, and, above all, no tales. Letters or essays 
 which should give some account of art or literature might 
 be available, or, indeed, any information on which I could 
 depend, however expressed, would be welcome to me ; but 
 there are in London such a colony of translators and small 
 literati Americans, Germans, English, there is no end ! 
 and I cannot mix myself up with them. It is a scramble,
 
 1 92 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 a competition, to supply the cheap libraries, periodicals, &c., 
 which exceeds everything heretofore known. 
 
 Have you heard that Combe has written an article on 
 ' Phrenology ' applied to the Fine Arts ? It reminds me 
 sorrowfully of those no more, of the past but neither on 
 this will I dwell. There is another book of which a new 
 edition is published, which has a great interest for me, 
 ' The Anatomy of Expression,' by Sir Charles Bell, the 
 famous surgeon. Do you know it ? I am living here 
 quietly, but only within these few days have I been capable 
 of anything. I am engaged on a book whicji describes 
 and explains the literature of the Middle Ages, as illus- 
 trated in painting, &c. This is not in your way at all, 
 and is even contrary to all your cherished views and pursuits 
 this looking backward instead of looking forward. But 
 such are my tastes. Art in all its forms is my only con- 
 solation. I leave philosophy and philanthropy to you and 
 Lady B. 
 
 To resume, however, in something like chrono- 
 logical order the beginning of the year 1843 was 
 full of the same ever repeated, but for the most part 
 impracticable, plans. The year that had just come 
 to a close had been clouded with considerable anxiety 
 and doubt as to the prospects of the family and 
 her own capability of steering them safely through 
 the storms and troubles of the moment doubts 
 which, however, were always conquered by cheerful 
 courage and labour, in neither of which does she 
 ever fail. Her own letters will sufficiently show 
 the state of her mind and circumstances after all she 
 had gone through :
 
 FRIENDS. 193 
 
 Baling, January 2, 1843. The first letter I write this 
 new year shall be to you, my friends ; and I pray God bless 
 you both with all my heart, this year and every year. 
 One of the best wishes I could form for myself would be 
 that we may meet. I can but do my best, for a heavy 
 responsibility lies on me. Very glad am I to see the end 
 of old '42, and thankful to stand firm upon my feet in this 
 working-day world, for I have had some severe struggles 
 this past year. But they are over, thank God, and my 
 view into the next year is not discouraging. 
 
 I have not seen Lady B. for some time, a fortnight or 
 three weeks ; but I hear from her constantly. I can tell 
 you, for your comfort, that since her very serious illness in 
 August and September, which frightened me in earnest, 
 she has been gradually improving in health and looks, and 
 is now better in every respect than I have ever seen her. 
 I think her greatest care is Lady Lovelace's health. She 
 is far from well or strong. They are very happy to- 
 gether. 
 
 Early in March Mrs. Jameson writes : 
 
 My own situation is not at present very happy, except in 
 this, that I have done all I set myself to do last year. I must 
 confine myself for this next year to the most rigid economy, 
 in order to meet the demands on me, and then I am free. 
 I calculate that towards the end of this year I shall have 
 paid every debt of my father and sisters, and have insured 
 my life for 6oo/. When this is done, I am a free woman, 
 but not till then. My mother's health is not good. I am 
 living with her in a little cottage in which our grandest 
 room is perhaps some twelve feet square. We are about 
 seven miles from town. I go occasionally for a day or 
 two, but most of my time is spent in writing and study.
 
 i 9 4 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 And a few weeks later she says : 
 
 I go on much as usual, thinking with a sigh of all my 
 German projects, of you and Rosawitz, of my dear Ottilie. 
 But one must do one's duty, and from England I cannot 
 go yet. My position is not a happy one, but neither is it 
 unhappy. I take interest in my work of every kind, and 
 have many things in hand. 
 
 In this year it was that Mrs. Jameson first took 
 a part in those politico-moral discussions, specially 
 on subjects affecting women, which called forth so 
 warm an interest in her mind in after years. That 
 she had already thought much on the subject is 
 sufficiently apparent from many eloquent passages 
 in her published works, and in the striking reflec- 
 tions upon home life and the special characteristics 
 of women in various countries with which her 
 readers were already familiar. But she had not 
 yet dared the dangers of popular controversy, nor 
 shown herself in a field where women in general 
 meet with but little mercy, and often scant justice. 
 Her attention, however, had been attracted by the 
 report of the commissioners specially appointed to 
 investigate the subject of the employment of young 
 children in the mining and manufacturing districts, 
 and she could, no longer keep silence, but added 
 her indignant protest to the facts there recorded. 
 The same report had been the inspiration of the 
 poem called the ' Cry of the Children,' written
 
 FRIENDS. 195 
 
 by Elizabeth Barrett, whose fame was then yet at 
 its dawning; and at the same time had stirred 
 the hearts of all reading and thinking women 
 throughout the country. Mrs. Jameson took up 
 the subject of the condition of the women and fe- 
 male children, with all the earnest fervour and broad 
 Christian courage of expression, that such a topic 
 invariably inspired her with, then and thereafter. 
 The article itself was published in the columns of 
 the ' Athenaeum.' She speaks of this in one of her 
 letters to Mr. Noel with much earnest feeling : 
 
 There was a paper of mine in the ' Athenaeum ' last 
 Saturday on the condition of the women of the lower 
 classes in England, which I should have liked you and 
 Louisa to have read. We are in a strange condition in 
 this country ; things are ripening (or rottening) into a change 
 of some kind. 
 
 In the autumn, Mrs. Jameson went away from 
 London for a couple of months' rest from her daily 
 toils and anxieties. She was tempted to prolong 
 her absence for a longer period than she had con- 
 templated, and gives a rfaimd of her experiences in 
 a letter to her favourite correspondent, in the latter 
 part of which will be found a little outburst of her 
 Irish patriotism. 
 
 Ealing, December 7, 1843. My journey to Scotland was 
 accidental. I left town on account of my health and my 
 eyes, much overworked and tired out. At Malvern I 
 
 o 2
 
 196 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 met Lady Byron and Mrs. Harry Siddons, and spent a 
 week there ; then went to the Bracebridges and to Lord 
 Hatherton's ; and then my friend Lady Monson caught me 
 up in Staffordshire, and took me into Berwickshire. There 
 I spent a quiet month at a lovely spot called Carolside, in 
 the neighbourhood of Abbotsford, Dryburgh, Melrose, the 
 Lammermoors, and other scenes of ballad and romance. 
 Thence I went to Edinburgh, and spent a week with Mrs. 
 Harry Siddons and her daughter. I had never known 
 Mrs. Siddons before ; you, dear Noel, will be pleased to 
 hear that we are become fast friends. I found her all I 
 had liked to fancy her from your description and Lady 
 Byron's gentle, refined, good in the inmost foldings of her 
 heart, one who had looked on life thoughtfully ; while the 
 artistic colouring which her profession and pursuits had 
 shed over her mind and character was to me an additional 
 charm. I took leave of Mrs. Harry with a sad feeling, for 
 it is too true that her health is failing, and more rapidly 
 than those who most love her are aware of. But she is 
 herself prepared for all things. 
 
 On my return to London a fortnight ago, I found Lady 
 Byron looking rather better than usual, and her mind prin- 
 cipally occupied by cares for her grandchildren, whom she 
 has taken on her hands till Christmas, I believe. 
 
 It has struck me that the enclosed letter may be of use 
 to you, that a translation or redaction of it might be pub- 
 lished in Germany. It was written by Harriet Martineau, 
 and is addressed to the sympathisers with Repeal. It 
 appears to me to be a very clever r&nmt of the state of 
 Ireland with regard to parties, and would enable German 
 sympathisers, and those who read Mr. Kohl's very clever 
 and amusing but rather superficial book of travels in 
 Ireland, to judge better of the present state of things. I 
 must observe, however, that though I do not myself wish
 
 FRIENDS. 197 
 
 for the disunion of the two countries, my feelings are with 
 O'Connell and the people. There is an old Scotch proverb 
 which says, ' Mint at a golden gown and ye'll get the 
 sleeve o't ' in other words, cry out ' Repeal ' (or rather 
 ' Repale ') and you'll get some of that justice and redress 
 which has been for centuries withheld from you. And 
 then the moral courage which the people have shown, their 
 self-denial. Admirable, generous people ! I am really 
 proud of my countrymen. Miserable, ignorant, ragged 
 though they be, they are the only people in Europe now 
 who are acting simultaneously on a high principle ; among 
 whom poetry is not a thing of words, but of act and 
 deed. 
 
 To this same journey north refers a letter from 
 Joanna Baillie, dated Hampstead, November 3, 
 replying evidently to some slight animadversions on 
 her beloved native land, frankly indulged in by 
 Mrs. Jameson, who had found herself in Edinburgh 
 for the first time, of all days in the year, on the anni- 
 versary of the General Fast. I give this letter of 
 my aunt's venerable friend in its entirety, though I 
 am warned by friends of my own that Mrs. Joanna's 
 opinions about Scotch contemporary history 
 opinions confessedly formed on hearsay are not 
 much to be relied upon, and show no very profound 
 understanding of the subject involved. 
 
 MY DEAR MRS. JAMESON, Next to enjoying the varied 
 views of a beloved and romantic land with one's own eyes, 
 to think that a friend is enjoying them is the greatest 
 pleasure, particularly one so well fitted to describe them as
 
 19$ ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 yourself. I was thinking of you in the meantime as with 
 your family at Baling, or wandering with some friend 
 along the coasts of Kent or Sussex. But you have been 
 better off (don't be offended with me for saying so), and I 
 am much obliged to you for your friendly and reviving 
 letter. I may well say reviving, for we have been station- 
 ary ori the Hill ever since we last saw you, while the 
 greater part of our intimate neighbours have been scattered 
 about on the continent and watering-places nearer home. 
 The latter part of the time, too, has been passed in a con- 
 fusion of note-writing and applications to get a poor boy 
 elected into the London Orphan Asylum, and truly we are 
 quite tired of it. My sister took the most active part of 
 the business, and I am thankful to say it has not done her 
 any harm. We are both as well as usual. 
 
 You will hear about Lady Byron from Mrs. Henry 
 Siddons, who was much with her in the north of England 
 not long ago. I am very glad to hear from you that her 
 malady, in the opinion of her medical adviser, may yet be 
 grappled with and overcome. I heartily agree with all 
 your good wishes for her. She is a most respectable as well 
 as agreeable woman, and has conducted herself through a 
 life of many cares and troubles in a very exemplary 
 manner. Pray offer her my kindest remembrances when 
 you meet. 
 
 I feel mournfully what you say of the moral state of 
 my country, contrasted with its beauty and grandeur. You 
 have come to it at an unhappy time, when people are all 
 quarrelling about religion, and everyone thinks himself or 
 herself wiser than their neighbours ; and the lay patrons of 
 the various parishes are replacing the clergy who have 
 seceded with others as wrong-headed and bigoted, to 
 please the people. So I hear from an intelligent friend 
 who generally views these subjects with great calmness, I
 
 FRIENDS. 
 
 199 
 
 remember well in old times the stillness of a Fast-day, but 
 it was a stillness of solemnity, not of form ; and the sacra- 
 ment being given in most parishes as a yearly commemo- 
 ration of the greatest event that ever took place upon 
 earth, the people received from it a deeper impression than 
 we may suppose they do in this country, where it is ad- 
 ministered every month. 
 
 I now take my leave, dear Mrs. Jameson, wishing you 
 much joy of what remains to you of your Scotch excur- 
 sions, and giving you many thanks for so kindly thinking 
 of me in your visits to the mountains and the muirs. 
 Come back well, and accept my sister's best wishes and 
 
 love along with mine. 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 J. BAILLIE. 
 
 After these allusions to my aunt's visit to Scot- 
 land, I cannot refrain from quoting here a beautiful 
 scrap from her ' Commonplace Book,' embodying the 
 reflections of a summer Sunday at the place named 
 in her letter to Mr. Noel, Carolside : 
 
 This present Sunday I set off with the others to walk 
 to church, but was late ; I could not keep up with the 
 pedestrians, and, not to delay them, I turned back. I 
 wandered down the hill path to the river bank, and crossed 
 the little bridge and strolled along, pensive, yet with no 
 definite or continuous subject of thought. 
 
 How beautiful it was, how tranquil ! not a cloud in the 
 blue sky, not a breath of air. ' And where the dead leaf 
 fell there did it rest ; ' but so still it was that scarce a 
 single leaf did flutter or fall, though the narrow pathway 
 along the water's edge was already encumbered with heaps 
 of decaying foliage.
 
 200 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 Everywhere around the autumnal tints prevailed, ex- 
 cept in one sheltered place under the towering cliff, where 
 a single tree, a magnificent lime, still flourished in summer 
 luxuriance with not a leaf turned or shed. I stood still 
 opposite, looking on it quietly for a long time ; it seemed 
 to me a guardian Dryad would not suffer it to be defaced. 
 Then I turned, for close beside me sounded the soft, half- 
 suppressed warble of a bird, sitting on a leafless spray 
 which seemed to bend with its tiny weight. Some lines 
 which I used to love in my childhood came into my mind, 
 blending softly with the presences around me : 
 
 The little bird now, to salute the morn, 
 Upon the naked branches sets her foot, 
 The leaves still lying at the mossy root, 
 And there a silly chirruping doth keep, 
 As if she fain would sing, yet fain would weep ; 
 Praising fair summer that too soon is gone, 
 And sad for winter too soon coming on ! 
 
 The river, where I stood, taking an abrupt turn, ran 
 wimpling by ; not as I had seen it but a few days before, 
 rolling tumultuously, the dead leaves whirling in its eddies, 
 swollen and turbid with the mountain torrents, making one 
 think of the kelpies, the water wraiths, and such uncanny 
 things, but gentle, transparent, and flashing in the low 
 sunlight. Even the barberries drooping with rich crimson 
 clusters over the little pools near the .bank, and reflected 
 in them as in a mirror, I remember vividly, as a part of 
 the exquisite loveliness which seemed to melt into my life. 
 For such moments we are grateful ; we feel then what God 
 can do for us, and what man can not. Carolsidc, Novem- 
 ber 5, 1843. 
 
 In^ the meanwhile, though Mrs. Jameson says 
 little about it, and only one allusion to it in a letter 
 to Mr. Noel will be found among the quotations I
 
 FRIENDS. aot 
 
 have made, her mind was occupied with the great 
 work commenced in 1842, though planned long pre- 
 vious to that date, and ' often laid aside and resumed,' 
 which was to increase her reputation so greatly, and 
 upon which, indeed, at the present it may be said 
 chiefly to rest. It would not be easy to over-esti- 
 mate the varied and careful study, the minute re- 
 search, the strain of observation and recollection, 
 which such a work made necessary. For years past 
 her collection of notes and tracings of the multi- 
 farious subjects which were found indispensable to 
 illustrate the work, had been carried on steadily, 
 whatever might be the minor labours which occupied 
 her. Though she had been tempted towards the 
 field of philanthropic politics, it was still true, as she 
 herself says, that art was her only consolation, and 
 without any diminution of interest in the public 
 questions which at a later period occupied so much 
 of her thoughts, the first and favourite topic for 
 which she had shown so much instinctive taste in 
 her very earliest productions, before her art edu- 
 cation could be said to have begun, always held the 
 mastery. She has herself recorded ' the pleasure I 
 took in a task so congenial,' and has described her 
 studies as ' a source of vivid enjoyment' At all 
 times she speaks of her interest in her work as one 
 of the greatest satisfactions of her life. 
 
 In October news came from Germany of a
 
 202 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 terrible sorrow that had come upon the Goethe 
 family. Mrs, Jameson's dear friend Ottilie lost 
 her only daughter a lovely girl of seventeen by 
 a sharp and sudden attack of malignant fever. In 
 a letter to Mr. Noel, dated October 21, Mrs. Jame- 
 son speaks of this unexpected affliction, and goes on 
 to say : 
 
 This must be a melancholy letter. About ten days 
 ago Mrs. Henry Siddons came up from Cheltenham to 
 London for the purpose of enduring an operation. 1 She 
 bore it most serenely, and for a time all seemed well. But 
 a day or two afterwards there was an unfavourable turn, 
 and for the last week we have been in the most painful 
 anxiety. There is no hope of ultimate cure or return to 
 health. At the moment I write this she is a little less 
 souffrante ; our best hope is existence protracted, without 
 much pain, perhaps for a few weeks. She is the most 
 gentle of human beings, one of the best and purest natures 
 I ever met with, and true to her character to the last. 
 Lady Byron was with her during the operation, supported 
 her through it, and has ever since been at hand. I am in 
 a manner with both, for Lady Byron requires almost as 
 much watching as her friend ; and what will be the issue 
 of so much emotion and fatigue, and the horrible London 
 atmosphere, I dread to think. 
 
 The anxiety felt concerning Mrs. Henry Sid- 
 dons terminated in her death about a week later ; 
 and early in December Mrs. Jameson writes to the 
 same correspondent : 
 
 1 For dropsy.
 
 FRIENDS. 203 
 
 The date of your last letter (Oct. 31), dearest Noel, 
 was the day on which Mrs. Henry Siddons was buried 
 in the Grey Friars Church at Edinburgh. She died in 
 London after ten days of suffering, and her death was worthy 
 of her life. The serenity, the tenderness, the unselfish 
 sweetness of her character, the same to the last ; resigned 
 to all, thoughtful of others, grateful for every proof of 
 affection ; the lofty tone of her mind unimpaired through 
 the long days of pain and suspense thus she died. 
 
 Mrs. Mair (Lizzie) and her good husband arrived from 
 Edinburgh while she was yet sensible. Lady Byron and 
 myself and another devoted friend, Emily Taylor, were 
 near her. Though my intimacy with her was comparatively 
 recent, I do not and cannot recover from the impression 
 left by her last moments. I had strongly attached myself 
 to her, and felt the full value of the high moral tone, the 
 gentle benignity, the poetical refinement, of her character. 
 
 All the world is talking of Harriet Martineau's cure by 
 mesmerism. I say nothing because everyone is saying too 
 much, and her last letter in the ' Athenaeum ' is imperfect 
 as evidence. I hardly know what to say at all, for she is 
 my friend, and a wonderfully gifted woman. 
 
 Of this 'cure by mesmerism' Miss Martineau 
 herself wrote a succinct history in a letter to my 
 aunt a letter full of the vigour of new life, 
 and strangely contrasting with letters sent a few 
 months previously, breathing indeed resignation, 
 but unillumined by one ray of hope for the future. 
 I may quote a paragraph or two from one of these 
 cheerful but entirely invalid letters, as contrasting
 
 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 with the confidence which filled her mind after her 
 cure : 
 
 How delicious (she writes) this July is ! flowers strewing 
 my rooms, mowing and haymaking going on on the downs, 
 and the sea all diamond-glittering, and my little nephews 
 shrimping, promising me fifty-four shrimps for tea, as we 
 had yesterday. It is a new idea to me, counting shrimps, 
 but it sounds grander than ' a gill.' The little fellows 
 have grown so handsome since they came to me, as brown 
 as gipsies. And our talk is high as heaven, by moon- 
 light when their day's pranks are over. 
 
 Speaking, too, of the thoughtful kindness of 
 many friends, of the present sent her by one among 
 these 
 
 Mrs. Reid, dear soul ! has sent me the best present any 
 good genius could devise for a prisoner a fine stand 
 telescope. I range many miles over sea and land, and spy 
 among the stars. I see every net the fishermen draw, and 
 the sailors on the yards, and the flags of all nations, and 
 every cove and cavern along the shore, and the reapers in 
 the field, the lovers on the rocks, the sportsmen on the 
 heath, the cattle in the farmyards, for miles ; and the town 
 of Shields (whenever I chance to look that way) ; and, 
 what is very pretty, ships going out of harbour with their 
 cheering crews, and their sweethearts on the wharves. I 
 see the daisies and dandelions on the down, and the pranks 
 of all the boys and goats in Tynemouth. I spend hours 
 at that telescope ! 
 
 With all the consolations and pleasures so plea- 
 santly described, it is evident that the writer was
 
 FRIENDS. 205 
 
 looking forward to nothing beyond a. continuation, 
 for the remainder of her existence, of the * life in a 
 sick-room ' she had already rendered familiar to 
 her readers. 
 
 Miss Martineau's disapproval of the publication 
 of letters is well known ; and I have hesitated as to 
 the printing even of the following, selected from 
 among her many communications to my aunt. But 
 perhaps, as the letter itself is evidently written 
 with the intention of being handed from one to 
 another of a band of friends, and as in her recently 
 published biography there has been no apparent 
 restraint in the production of letters, it seems un- 
 necessary to act rigidly upon a wish which Miss 
 Martineau's representatives have not themselves 
 respected. The letter is specially interesting as 
 showing the warm bond of friendly feeling among 
 the different members of this literary circle, as well 
 as for its account of the much-discussed ' cure.' ' I 
 am more and more bewildered by the whole sub- 
 ject,' Miss Barrett had written. ' I wish I could 
 disbelieve it all, except that Harriet Martineau is 
 well/ 
 
 Tynemouth. 
 
 DEAR MRS. JAMESON, On Monday I charged Mrs. 
 Grote with my whole story for you. I had been quite 
 uneasy not to tell you and Lady Byron ; but I heard you 
 were both wandering, and Mrs. Grote promised you should 
 hear it all. (Ask her anything you like.) Meantime, as
 
 206 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 I sent it to Emily Taylor through her sister, I hoped it 
 would reach you. 
 
 The word ' recovered ' is much too strong at present. 
 The rest, as in your note, is true. It surprises me less 
 than you. I long ago knew mesmerism to be true. But 
 I never supposed I could try it here. My good doctor 
 himself brought over the mesmerist who first proved me 
 susceptible ; and I hear from him to-day that he has an- 
 nounced to his colleagues at the Newcastle Infirmary his 
 intention of introducing trials of mesmerism there, in pre- 
 paration for operations to test the truth ; to which they all 
 assented. So now something more will be proved. 
 
 The first trial was on the 22nd June. From that day 
 I have been regularly mesmerised twice a day by my 
 maid Margaret till three weeks since, and now by a bene- 
 volent lady who is with me for the purpose of seeing how 
 far the experiment can be carried. (As in all such cases, 
 without fee or reward.) I first recovered appetite and lost 
 the sickness, then gained sleep, nerve, and spirits. The 
 total cessation of local and marking pains, and of the ' dis- 
 tress,' some three weeks after I had left off all medicines 
 (except the rapidly diminishing opiates), made me request 
 my doctor to examine whether some change had not taken 
 place in the disease itself. You remember the main mis- 
 chief that which confined me so closely and caused the 
 chief suffering was that the diseased part was distorted 
 and displaced, and fastened by morbid growths, so that no 
 force could move it. Well, it had given way, was move- 
 able, and had risen two or three inches. This was really 
 turning the corner. It continues to rise very gradually, 
 and my mesmerist and I are quite sure it is much diminished 
 in size. My waist and body are reduced, while I have 
 gained flesh elsewhere. I have no feeling of illness, eat 
 heartily, sleep all night, walk three-quarters of a mile with-
 
 FRIENDS. 207 
 
 out fatigue, and am free from nervous excitement, and was 
 so, quite, on the very first occasion of going out after four 
 and a half years. Everybody who comes remarks on some 
 decrease of my deafness ; but of this I am not aware. 
 Take to-day I rose at eight, after seven hours' sound sleep, 
 breakfasted before nine, was mesmerised for an hour, went 
 out alone without any opiate, walked round the castle- 
 yard, and down to the . . . : and up again ; dressed to 
 receive Lambtons and Greys ; talked with them for two 
 hours ; dined well ; read for above an hour ; am now writing 
 to you ; am to have my kind mesmerist to tea ; shall sit up 
 (which I am practising) for two hours at work, dictating 
 letters ; shall have an hour's mesmerising ; read an hour ; 
 to bed, and asleep before my head reaches the pillow, 
 and all without ache, pain, or weakness, only infirmity. 
 There is no reaction after mesmerism. All is calm and 
 refreshing and invigorating. I feel it a sensible feeding 
 of my fife, from day to day, and the principle of life 
 thereby, I suppose, becomes victor over disease. I have 
 never had one moment's doubt or misgiving from the 
 first trial, the visual evidences and peculiar sensations having 
 never once been absent. The sleep has never come, but 
 it is not necessary, though it quickens the process, and I 
 fancy it will come when the opiate effects are completely 
 worn out. I now take only four or five drops of laudanum 
 per day, and shall soon have diluted that modicum to 
 nothing. Lady M. Lambton, who knew all, and had high 
 expectations, was surprised at my looks to-day. To the 
 primrose has succeeded a salmon-colour on the way to 
 carmine, let us suppose ! 
 
 The only drawback is the lapfuls of letters I mean 
 the inability to answer them. We don't know what to do. 
 Will Lady Byron, and also Lady Monson, accept this 
 through you, as to themselves ? We serve the sick first,
 
 208 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 but a mountain of correspondence remains untouched. I 
 kept the matter pretty close, for mesmerises sake, till we 
 had proof that the disease was really reached, and that the 
 improvement was thorough. 
 
 The chief pleasure has been, and continues to be, 
 finding sober serious belief on every hand, and, where 
 that is not yet attained, a grave candour which I never 
 should haye dreamed of finding so extensive. Of my own 
 immediate family three were serious believers before, and 
 a fourth quite open-minded, leaving only one to be con- 
 vinced besides my mother. The immediate evidences, 
 every day, are as clear to me as stars in the sky, as certain 
 as warmth from the fire. All who have seen me will 
 avouch that I am under no excitement In truth, except 
 for the vivid pleasure of open-air wandering and the com- 
 fort of ease at home, I could almost forget my whole 
 illness. 
 
 My mesmerist friends are sanguine about cure. To me 
 this still seems a vast work to do. Yet it would not be 
 reasonable to deny the possibility. My expectation, or 
 rather my conjecture, however, is, that it will remain a case 
 of infirmity, of no great inconvenience, and always limit- 
 able by mesmerism. 
 
 I am sure I need not tell yon how very serious, how 
 solemn, the subject is to my mind. It always was. I see 
 in it, as I did a year ago, an agency by which human 
 transactions will be as extensively modified in the future as 
 outward modes of living will be by such discoveries as 
 Faraday's. Of course we keep close and full journals of 
 the case ; and anything that can be done by my experience 
 to enlighten men shall be done at any cost to my own 
 feelings. 
 
 Lady Mary to-day said I must go to Lambton some 
 day. Probably ; but my mesmerist and I are like Siamese
 
 FRIENDS. 209 
 
 twins, and must be for some time. This place is all I 
 want, but I dare say I shall be at Lambton some day. 
 Good-bye ! My love to you and Gerard ine. How you 
 
 will like this note ! 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 H. M. 
 
 To these brief notices of Mrs. Jameson's many 
 friendships I will add only the following letter, 
 which describes some few particulars of another little 
 expedition to the North during the summer of 1845, 
 written in July from Haling : 
 
 I am just returned from Edinburgh, where I have been 
 staying with Major and Mrs. Mair. I came back by 
 Ambleside, where I saw Harriet Martineau looking won- 
 derfully well, alert, full of life and spirits, walking seven 
 or eight miles a day, and most enthusiastic about mes- 
 merism. I saw also Wordsworth, Mrs. Arnold, the widow 
 of Dr. Arnold, and her family, and other friends. Then 
 I came on to Leicestershire, and spent three short happy 
 days with Lady Byron at Kirkby. She is lodged at one 
 end of a farmhouse opposite to C. Noel. She has fitted 
 up a little establishment for herself, and there I found her 
 busy with tenants' schools, game-laws, and manifold pro- 
 jects for the benefit and happiness of others. You can 
 believe I was not there without thinking much of you, dear 
 Noel. I liked your brother and his gentle wife ; and, 
 though I could not think that fat flat country interesting, 
 I was charmed with my visit.
 
 2 io ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 LABORIOUS YEARS. 
 
 IN the month of August 1845, Mrs. Jameson accom- 
 plished her long desire, and went abroad. She 
 stayed some six weeks in Germany on her way to 
 Italy, Italy being ever the goal of her desires. 
 From Rosawitz, Mr. Noel's place in Bohemia, she 
 writes home on August 17 the birthday of her 
 mother and of her eldest sister a letter telling her 
 own story since the time she had left them : 
 
 MY DEAREST MOTHER AND ELIZA, I cannot see 
 this day rise without beginning it with a letter to you, to 
 show you at least that I am thinking of you. God bless 
 you both, and send you yet many happy years ! I wish I 
 could know something of home, but it will be at least a 
 fortnight more before I can have a letter, and in the mean- 
 time I try to profit by the opportunity of learning much 
 in a thousand ways, and so strive to keep anxiety away 
 from my mind. Yesterday I dined at the Castle with the 
 Thun family, and was very glad to renew my acquaintance 
 with them all, though the absence of Count Franz made it 
 less agreeable than it would have been had he been there. 
 Ottilie is at Weimar, and I remain here for some days 
 longer before we proceed to the south.
 
 LABORIOUS YEARS. 211 
 
 The country here is wonderfully beautiful. You will 
 have an idea of it if you look in my sketch-book for the 
 view of Tetschen. There are reasons which make me wish 
 inexpressibly that Gerardine were here, under the sweet 
 influence of Mrs. Noel, for no day passes in which she 
 does not rise in my estimation. Such a guide, such a 
 friend for my child, would be inestimable. But I shall 
 alter no arrangement, for change can only do mischief. 
 Next year we shall see what may be done, if I get on in 
 the world. 
 
 Dresden, August 27. I have been kept in a good 
 deal of suspense by delays of post and other accidents. I 
 am now expecting Mme. de Goethe, her mother, and 
 Ulrica, 1 and I am sorry to say it is decided that we go 
 round by Vienna. It will cause me some loss of time 
 and some expense, but there is no avoiding it. I have 
 written to Munich to desire that all letters shall be for- 
 warded to Vienna ; but God knows when I shall get them, 
 if ever, and my mind is beginning to be anxious. 
 
 I left Rosawitz with great regret. It is really a most 
 lovely spot a place to attach oneself to. Luckily I have 
 many things to do. Since I came here I have been very 
 busy. I go to the Gallery every morning, to the library, 
 to the royal collection of prints, and am picking up every- 
 where and making notes. I have been introduced to 
 Countess Hahn, and drank tea with her last night, and 
 found her very agreeable and ladylike. 
 
 August 28. I shall close my letter to-day and post 
 it. Ottilie arrived last night, and our plans are at last 
 settled. On Sunday we leave Dresden for Tetschen, going 
 up the Elbe in a steamboat. On Monday we leave Tet- 
 schen and proceed to Prague. On the 4th we shall be at 
 
 1 Mme. de Goethe's sister. 
 
 p 2
 
 212 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 Vienna, and on the 8th at Venice. You must direct 
 Poste Restante, Venice, vi& France. How much I wish to 
 hear of you all ! God grant I have good tidings of you 
 all in the letters I hope to receive at Vienna ! And so, 
 my dear ones all, dear Louisa and Camilla and Geddie 
 included, I am your affectionate ANNA. 
 
 This time there was no sudden and painful recall 
 home ; Mrs. Jameson carried out her plan of crossing 
 the Alps, and thus broke through the sort of spell 
 that had previously seemed to forbid her realising her 
 chief desire. She made but a short visit, however, 
 to her dearly loved Italy, and on her way back wrote 
 to Mr. Noel from Paris : 
 
 Now as to my own biography. I can only give you a 
 sketch. After leaving Venice, the beautiful, the wonderful, 
 with a regret which seems quite childish when I look back, 
 I made a rapid flight across Italy for purposes connected 
 with my intended book, seeing Padua, Mantua, Cremona, 
 Pavia, Milan, Brescia, Bergamo, and Verona. At Verona I 
 saw a balloon ascend from the interior of the ancient amphi- 
 theatre, crowded with 1 5,000 people a spectacle which I 
 shall always remember as one of the most magnificent I ever 
 beheld in itself, and from the inevitable associations con- 
 nected with it, and the comparison between ancient and 
 modern times. For example, they carried on the chemical 
 processes for preparing the gas and filling the balloon in 
 the very receptacle from which the wild beasts used to 
 spring out upon their victims. Leaving Verona, I crossed 
 the Brenner and came by Innspruck to Munich. From 
 the time I had left Venice I had not exchanged a word 
 with any human being except innkeepers and officials, and
 
 LABORIOUS YEARS. 213 
 
 had been absolutely alone. I was glad to find myself 
 again among friends. Yet Munich made, on the whole, a 
 very disagreeable impression, and the sudden change of 
 climate made me almost ill, or rather quite so. Paris has 
 at present no charms for me. I am pursued by a haunting 
 gnawing wish to return home and be at rest. 
 
 Among the earliest letters written after her re- 
 turn was one to Catherine Sedgwick, giving a suc- 
 cinct account of her visit to the Continent. 
 
 .1 went abroad, somewhat suddenly, on July 23. My 
 purpose was to see, and, if I could, to comfort, my friend 
 Mme. de Goethe. She lost last year her only daughter, 
 a blooming girl of seventeen, of typhus fever, and the blow 
 fell heavy on her. I went by Frankfort to Nuremberg, 
 where we met and spent about ten days absolutely tete-a- 
 tete, and in some respects, in spite of sorrow, happily. We 
 then parted for some days ; she went to Weimar to visit 
 the Grand-Duchess and settle some affairs for her sons ; I 
 went to Tetschen to see my friends the Noels and the 
 Thun family, then met Ottilie again at Dresden, went with 
 her to Prague and Vienna, thence to Trieste and across the 
 Adriatic to Venice. Did you visit Venice ? I forget. In 
 the world there is nothing like it. It seems to me that we 
 can find a similitude for everything else, but Venice is like 
 nothing else Venice the beautiful, the wonderful ! I had 
 seen it before, but it was as new to me as if unbeheld ; 
 and every morning when I rose I was still in the same 
 state of wonder and enchantment. But then came pain 
 and sorrow. Letters came to Ottilie that her son Wolf 
 was ill at Naples, and she went off at once to him. I 
 could not go ; I had duties in England which made it im- 
 possible for me to winter in Italy. On my return I found
 
 2i4 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 my family well, the cottage home flourishing, but my dear 
 friend Lady Byron just recovering or, as it seemed to me, 
 trying to recover from one of her terrible fits of illness, 
 looking more white and tremulously weak than I had ever 
 seen her. I was shocked and more apprehensive than I 
 had ever felt about her. She has since been slowly gain- 
 ing, at least not losing, ground, but how I dread the winter 
 for her ! Of all human beings she is the one most neces- 
 sary to my heart and to my mental and moral well-being ; 
 the only one, perhaps I might say, uniting in her most 
 extraordinary character and peculiar destiny all I most 
 love with all I most reverence. This is a horridly selfish 
 way of putting it when I think how necessary, how beyond 
 measure valuable, her life is to others to so many to 
 her daughter and grandchildren especially. My mind is a 
 little unsettled, and I am not feeling well ; but I am going 
 to work forthwith, the essays on ' Legendary Art ' being 
 in progress. Those I have finished are the essays on the 
 Evangelists, Apostles, Fathers of the Church, and the 
 Magdalene ; and now I am going to write about your 
 sweet patron-saint, St. Catherine. Now that I have be- 
 stowed on you all this superfluity of egotism, let me turn 
 again to your dear charming letter and thank you for it. 
 How interesting is every word of it, even ' baby's blot,' to 
 which I gave a kiss for the love of Kate ; shall I ever see 
 my Gerardine's baby ? I have not met with Margaret 
 Fuller's book, but I will read it as soon as I can get it. 
 The cause of women would suffer if handled coarsely and 
 in bad taste by one of their own sex ; so much depends, 
 not on what is said, but how it is said. 
 
 Among the numerous friends of the late Mrs. 
 Harry Siddons there was an earnest wish that Mrs. 
 Jameson should undertake to compile a memoir
 
 LABORIOUS YEARS. 215 
 
 worthy of its subject; and Mrs. Jameson, who had 
 once contemplated writing the life of the other more 
 renowned Mrs. Siddons, accepted the grateful office 
 of recording the honourable existence of the gentle 
 sister-in-law, who had borne her acquired name with 
 such true dignity and worth. However, it was not 
 to be. One or two members of the family disap- 
 proved of the plan. Mrs. Jameson writes on De- 
 cember i : 
 
 The first news I heard on my return was, that the 
 family of Mrs. Harry Siddons had disagreed concerning 
 the memoir ; Major and Mrs. Mair, and Mrs. Grant, and 
 all Mrs. H. Siddons' most intimate friends, being of one 
 mind, and Henry Siddons and Mr. Grant of another. So 
 I have given it up for the present, for, as Mrs. Grant said, 
 ' what her mother would most have abhorred was family 
 disputes ; ' and certainly I wished to keep clear of being the 
 cause or victim of such. I have suffered great pain in 
 this business, but it is passed off, and I am turning my 
 mind to other things. 
 
 Alluding, among other things, to the politics, the 
 stirring politics, of that day, to the Coercion Bill for 
 Ireland, &c., Mrs. Jameson writes from Ealing on 
 January 5, 1846 : 
 
 I have put some English newspapers into your parcel, 
 up to the latest date, which may give you some idea of the 
 state of public feeling, for I do not trust to tJiat finding its 
 way into your German newspapers. ' The religious move- 
 ment' and Ronge are beginning to excite attention. 
 Lady Byron, after reading a translation of Ronge's mani-
 
 216 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 festo, seemed disgusted with him for taking up the old 
 vulgar ground abuse of all sects but his own, and par- 
 ticularly abuse of the Roman Catholics. For my own 
 part I see it all, as a spectator from the boxes looks on a 
 drama. ' Play out the play,' and from disagreement shall 
 arise agreement, as far as need be ; but why human beings 
 should not disagree about religion, as well as other things, 
 I do not know. 
 
 And in March she writes : 
 
 These are stirring times. Sir Robert has electrified 
 us all. His two last speeches the first on the opening of 
 Parliament, and the second in the course of the debate 
 have astonished by their elevated tone of moral feeling as 
 much as by their power and eloquence. The new policy 
 with regard to Ireland is also of deepest interest to me, 
 an Irishwoman, though I abhor this proposed Coercion Bill 
 of Lord St. Germains, and pray against it with all my 
 heart. 
 
 In the spring of this year another little collec- 
 tion of my aunt's fugitive papers was published by 
 Mr. Bentley. She describes it in a letter to a friend 
 as consisting of a series of essays : i. The House 
 of Titian. 2. The Xanthian Marbles. 3. The 
 Life of Washington Allston. 4. The Lyrical 
 Drama in England ; giving an account of Adelaide 
 Kemble's dramatic career, and some remarks gene- 
 rally on the position of female artists. 5. The 
 Condition of the Women of the Working-Classes. 
 
 6. The Means afforded for the Training of Women. 
 
 7. The relative Social Position of Mothers and 
 Governesses.
 
 LABORIOUS YEARS. 217 
 
 This little volume was rendered yet more 
 interesting by the friendly aid of Miss Barrett, who 
 contributed to the paper on the Xanthian Marbles a 
 partial translation from the ' Odyssey ' of the verses 
 alluding to the fate of the daughters of Pandarus, 
 and so telling the story illustrated by one of the 
 ' Xanthian marbles/ the fragments of antique art, 
 which had been, as Mrs. Jameson writes, brought 
 hither from the Syrian coast by Sir Charles Fellows 
 in 1842, and placed in the British Museum. 
 
 The suggestion that the figures on the so-called 
 ' Harpy Tomb ' represent a form of the old Homeric 
 legend of the daughters of King Pandarus, made 
 by Mr. Benjamin Gibson, the brother of the sculptor, 
 'seems,' Mrs. Jameson says, 'generally admitted. 
 Pandarus of Crete steals the living golden dog, 
 fabricated by Vulcan, from the temple of Jupiter. 
 The father of the gods avenges this theft by the 
 destruction of Pandarus, whose orphan daughters 
 are brought up by the goddesses. Venus nourishes 
 them with honey and wine ; Juno endows them 
 with beauty and intellect ; Diana gives them tall- 
 ness of stature ; Minerva teaches them to sew and 
 to weave. When they are of a proper age, Venus 
 is about to bestow husbands on them ; but Jupiter, 
 whose vengeance is not yet satisfied, sends the 
 Harpies, by whom they are snatched away and
 
 2i8 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 carried into Tartarus. The story is thus related by 
 Penelope in the 2Oth book of the " Odyssey." ' 
 
 Miss Barrett wrote to Mrs. Jameson, enclosing 
 two versions from the Greek and saying 
 
 In the first (written first) I tried to represent not 
 perfectly, but imperfectly, understand something of the 
 Greek cadence, without trenching on the uncongenial 
 English hexameters. This version, for the rest, is rendered 
 line for line with the original. Yet when I had done it, 
 I shrank a little from sending it to you without an alter- 
 native in the common measure. 
 
 And so these daughters fair of Pandarus 
 
 The whirlwinds took. The Gods had slain their kin : 
 
 They were left orphans in their father's house. 
 
 And Aphrodite came to comfort them 
 
 With incense, luscious honey, fragrant wine : 
 
 And Here gave them beauty of face and soul 
 
 Beyond all women. Purest Artemis 
 
 Endowed them with her stature and white grace, 
 
 And Pallas taught their hands to flash along 
 
 Her famous looms. Then, bright with deity, 
 
 Toward far Olympus Aphrodite went 
 
 To ask of Zeus (who has his thunder-joys 
 
 And his full knowledge of man's mingled fate) 
 
 How best to crown those other gifts with love 
 
 And worthy marriage ! but what time she went, 
 
 The ravishing Harpies snatched the maids away, 
 
 And gave them up, for all their loving eyes, 
 
 To serve the Furies, who hate constantly ! 
 
 II. 
 
 So the storms bore the daughters of Pandarus out into thrall ; 
 The Gods slew their parents : the orphans were left in the hall. 
 And there came, to feed their young lives, Aphrodite divine, 
 With the incense, the sweet-tasting-honey, the sweet-smelling wine 
 Here brought them her wit above woman's, and beauty of face ;
 
 LABORIOUS YEARS. 
 
 And pure Artemis gave them her stature, that form might have grace ; 
 
 And Athen& instructed their hands in her works of renown ; 
 
 Then afar to Olympus divine Aphrodite moved on ; 
 
 To complete other gifts, by uniting each girl to a mate, 
 
 She sought Zeus, who has joy in the thunder, and knowledge of fate 
 
 Whether mortals have good chance or ill ! But the Harpies alate 
 
 In the storm came, and swept off the maidens, and gave them to wait, 
 
 With that love in their eyes, on the Furies, who constantly hate ! 
 
 and so, and so ... (for my explanation grows almost as 
 long as an Odyssey). I send besides a blank verse trans- 
 lation, and entreat you to use a full liberty in selecting 
 either version or rejecting both . . . you, who know the 
 good and evil of everything like Zeus, though you are so 
 much too kind to have joy in your thunderbolts. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson published both the exquisite trans- 
 lations, acknowledging her debt of gratitude to her 
 friend the translator. Miss Barrett saw the proofs 
 of this book in course of progress through the press, 
 and wrote that she had read them gladly and grate- 
 fully, admiring much and sympathising everywhere. 
 ' The essays were full of suggestiveness, and the 
 writing vivid, as it ought to be where the thinking is 
 so just and noble.' Of ' The House of Titian' 
 she wrote : 
 
 Let me say how I have been charmed with it. It 
 seems to me in your best manner. I am at Venice with 
 you while I read, and, which is still better, at one with you 
 in every thought nearly. The sympathy is so alive and 
 close. The single exception is in the observation you 
 make about art about art not being the medium of ex- 
 pression for the present age. You said it in this room, I 
 remember; and wherever you say it, I feel myself set 
 fixedly against you, because I hold that, wherever man
 
 220 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 is man, ' to unfold the human into beauty,' which is art 
 (and you have adopted that truth by your motto), 1 is 
 an aim natural to him. If I could believe in an age 
 without souls, i.e. of a lopped, straightened humanity, I 
 might believe in an age to which art in the high sense is 
 not an adapted medium. That is the only thought in 
 your essay which I fall off from. All the rest I love and 
 live by. 
 
 I may be permitted to extract a page here and 
 there from these ' Memoirs and Essays ' as illustra- 
 tive not only of the prevalent tendencies of Mrs. 
 Jameson's mind, but also as strictly autobiographical 
 and showing how her visit to Venice, more briefly 
 referred to in her letters, had been filled with occu- 
 pation. The finding of the ' House of Titian ' is 
 told with all her wonted eloquence, when once on 
 such an inspiring subject. 
 
 After a pilgrimage through the churches and palaces 
 of Venice after looking every day with ever new delight 
 on the ' Presentation in the Temple,' and the ' Assumption' 
 in the Accademia, we had resolved to close our sojourn by 
 a visit of homage to the house in which the great old 
 master dwelt for fifty years (the half of his long life), and 
 lived and loved, and laughed and quaffed with Aretino 
 and Sansovino and Bembo and Bernardo Tasso ; and 
 feasted starry-eyed Venetian dames, and entertained 
 princes, and made beauty immortal, and then died oh, 
 
 1 The motto to the * House of Titian,' taken from Oelenschlager : 
 
 ' For the painter 
 
 Is not the painter only, but the man ; 
 And to unfold the human into beauty 
 That also is art.'
 
 LABORIOUS YEARS. 221 
 
 such a death ! a death which should seem in its horror and 
 its loathsomeness to have summed up the bitterness of a 
 lifelong sorrow in a few short hours ! 
 
 It was not in the Barbarigo Palace that Titian dwelt, 
 nor did he, as has been supposed, work or die there. His 
 residence, previous to his first famous visit to Bologna, was 
 in a close and crowded part of Venice, in the Calle Gal- 
 lipoli, near San Toma ; in the same neighbourhood Gior- 
 gione had resided, but in an open space in front of the 
 church of San Silvestro. The locality pointed out as 
 Titian's residence is very much the same as it must have 
 been in the sixteenth century ; for Venice has not changed 
 since then in expansion, though it has seen many other 
 changes, has increased in magnificence, has drooped in 
 decay. In this alley, for such it was and is, he lived for 
 many years a frugal as well as a laborious life ; his only 
 certain resource being his pension as state painter, in 
 which office he succeeded his master, Gian Bellini. When 
 riches flowed in with royal patronage, he removed his 
 atelier to a more spacious residence in a distant beautiful 
 quarter of the city ; and, without entering into any ex- 
 travagance, he proved that he knew how to spend money, 
 as well as how to earn money, to his own honour and the 
 delight of others. 
 
 It is curious that a house so rich in associations, and, as 
 one should suppose, so dear to Venice, should, even now, 
 be left obscure, half-ruined, well nigh forgotten, after being 
 for two centuries unknown, unthought of. It was with 
 some difficulty we found it. The direction given to us 
 was, ' Nella contrada di San Canciano, in hiogo appcllato 
 Biri-grandcy net Campo Rotto, sopra lapallnde o canalc, cK 
 in faccia air isola di Murano, ove ora stanno inalzate le 
 Fondamenta Nuovc' minute enough, one would think; 
 but even our gondolier, one of the most intelligent of his
 
 222 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 class, was here at fault. We went up and down all manner 
 of canals, and wandered along the Fondamenta Nttove, a 
 beautiful quay or terrace, built of solid stone, and running 
 along the northern shore of this part of the city. Here 
 we lingered about so intoxicated with the beauty of the 
 scene and the view over the open lagune, specked with 
 gondolas gliding to and fro, animated by the evening sun- 
 shine, and a breeze which blew the spray in our faces, that 
 every now and then we forgot our purpose, only, however, 
 to resume our search with fresh enthusiasm ; diving into 
 the narrow alleys, which intersect like an intricate network 
 the spaces between the canals, and penetrating into strange 
 nooks and labyrinths, which those who have not seen do 
 not know some of the most peculiar and picturesque aspects 
 of Venice. 
 
 We were now in San Canciano, near the church of the 
 Gesuiti, and knew we must be close upon the spot in- 
 dicated ; but still it seemed to elude us. At length a 
 young girl, looking out of a dilapidated unglazed window, 
 herself like a Titian portrait set in an old frame so fresh, 
 so young, so mellow-cheeked, with the redundant tresses 
 and full dark eyes alia Veneziana after peeping down 
 archly on the perplexed strangers, volunteered a direction to 
 the Casa di Tiziano, in the Campo Rotto, for she seemed 
 to guess, or had overheard, our purpose. We hesitated, 
 not knowing how far we might trust this extemporaneous 
 benevolence. The neighbourhood had no very good repu- 
 tation in Titian's time, and, as it occurred to me, had 
 much the appearance of being still inhabited by persons 
 delle quali bello il tacere. But one of my companions 
 gallantly swearing that such eyes could not play us false, 
 insisted on following the instructions given ; and he was 
 right. After threading a few more of these close narrow 
 passages, we came upon the place and edifice we sought.
 
 LABORIOUS YEARS. 223 
 
 That part of it looking into the Campo Rotto is a low 
 wine-house, dignified by the title of the Trattoria di 
 Tiziano, and under its vine-shadowed porch sat several 
 men and women regaling. The other side, still looking 
 into a little garden (even the very ' dilettevole giardino di 
 Messer Tiziano'), is portioned out to various inhabitants : 
 on the exterior wall some indications of the fresco paint- 
 ings which once adorned it are still visible. A laughing, 
 ruffianly, half-tipsy gondolier, with his black cap stuck 
 roguishly on one side, and a countenance which spoke him 
 ready for any mischief, insisted on being our cicerone ; and 
 an old shoemaker or tailor, I forget which, did the honours 
 with sober civility. We entered by a little gate leading 
 into the garden, and up a flight of stone steps to an 
 antique porch overshadowed by a vine, which had but 
 lately yielded its harvest of purple grapes, and now hung 
 round the broken pillars and balustrades in long, wild, 
 neglected festoons. From this entrance another flight of 
 stone steps led up to the principal apartments, dilapidated, 
 dirty, scantily furnished. The room which had once been 
 the chief saloon and Titian's atelier must have been 
 spacious and magnificent, capable of containing very large- 
 sized pictures the canvas, for instance, of the Last Supper, 
 painted for Philip II. We found it now portioned off by 
 wooden partitions into various small tenements ; still one 
 portion of it remained, in size and loftiness oddly con- 
 trasting with the squalid appearance of the inmates. About 
 forty years ago there was seen on a compartment of the 
 ceiling a beautiful group of dancing Cupids. One of the 
 lodgers, a certain Messer Francesco Breve, seized with a 
 sudden fit of cleanliness, whitewashed it over ; but being 
 made aware of his mistake, he tore it down and attempted 
 to clean off the chalk, for the purpose of selling it. What 
 became of the maltreated relic is not known ; into such 
 hands had the dwelling of Titian descended.
 
 224 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 The little neglected garden, which once sloped down 
 to the shore and commanded a view over the lagune to 
 Murano, was now shut in by high buildings, intercepting 
 all prospect but of the sky, and looked strangely desolate. 
 The impression left by the whole scene was most melan- 
 choly'; and no associations with the past, no images of 
 beauty and of glory, came between us and the intrusive 
 vulgarity of the present. 
 
 The political essays on ' Woman's Mission and 
 Woman's Position,' and on the ' Relative Position of 
 Mothers and Governesses,' included in this book, 
 were the first among her literary contributions to 
 the discussion of questions of social science. Of 
 one of the two memoirs (' Adelaide Kemble ' and 
 ' Washington Allston ') Joanna Baillie wrote to Mrs. 
 Jameson : 
 
 I have been greatly interested with the dramatic career 
 of Adelaide Kemble, which is exhibited to the reader with 
 so much feeling and spirit, and with justice, too, I have no 
 doubt, though I am not at all qualified to judge of a most 
 material part of the subject. It is a picture of her (I 
 should say a series of pictures) that will remain, after her 
 natural life is past, in the imaginations of those who have 
 seen her and those who have not. I was not quite aware 
 that she was so great an actress. This view of her must 
 be very gratifying to herself and family, and even to the 
 family she is married into, as everything regarding the 
 profession is touched with so much delicacy. I hope to be 
 engaged this evening with the ' House of Titian,' and, if it 
 way be so, without interruption.
 
 LABORIOUS YEARS. 225 
 
 It was shortly after the publication of this little 
 work that Miss Martineau wrote to enlist Mrs. 
 Jameson's pen in behalf of the Anti-slavery Con- 
 vention in America, begging her 
 
 to send something, any sort of piece (if only a single 
 sentence) breathing the spirit of freedom by which these 
 noble abolitionists live, and you may do more for the cause 
 than you will easily suppose possible. I shall send some- 
 thing, and it would delight me to have the honour of 
 sending a contribution of yours with my own. Any pas- 
 sage analogous to your immortal paragraph about the 
 clause in the New Poor Law would echo through the 
 United States, and reach many an ear deaf to what a 
 native could say. 
 
 I am not aware, however, that Mrs. Jameson ever 
 sent any contribution to the ' Liberty Bell,' the 
 American periodical to which Miss Martineau 
 refers. 
 
 In this year (1846) the Queen and the Prince Con- 
 sort renewed, indeed I believe rebuilt, a certain little 
 summer-house in the gardens of Buckingham Palace. 
 The leading artists of the day were engaged to 
 paint in fresco a series of designs illustrating the 
 classic English poets ; and the royal commission 
 caused at the time considerable sensation and in- 
 terest in the artist world. The whole of the works 
 executed were subsequently engraved by Ludwig 
 Griiner, and published in a costly folio edition, 
 coloured after the originals. For this Mrs. Jameson 
 
 Q
 
 226 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 was requested to write an introduction and descrip- 
 tive text, and the work was published conjointly by 
 Messrs. Murray, Longman, Colnaghi, and Moon. 
 
 In July Mrs. Jameson sent to Mr. Noel the fol- 
 lowing little note upon politics in which her previ- 
 sions seemed to have far outleaped time and the 
 hour. 
 
 You will have heard of the change of ministry ; there 
 are some doubts whether the present set will stand. Never 
 were politics so dramatic, so interesting, so hopeful as 
 now. Never were the motives of action so high, so en- 
 larged. You see Lord John Russell's programme, and 
 how much the education and the health of the people enter 
 into it. Then, if Lord Grey have any weight, that pest, 
 the Irish Church, will be done away with in short, in spite 
 of our Puseyism, &c., I begin to have hope for freedom of 
 mind and common sense. 
 
 It was about this time that negotiations com- 
 menced between Mrs. Jameson and the firm of 
 Messrs. Longman for the publication of what my 
 aunt always looked upon as the work of her life, the 
 one by which she chiefly desired to be remembered, 
 and which has already been frequently referred to. 
 The correspondence between Mrs. Jameson and the 
 head of this firm soon resulted in a kindly inter- 
 course that time ripened into a sincere and enduring 
 friendship. In her first note on the subject, written 
 with all due formality ,
 
 LABORIOUS YEARS. 227 
 
 Mrs. Jameson presents her compliments to Messrs. 
 Longman, and begs to know whether they would consider 
 it expedient to undertake the publication of her work, 
 entitled ' Legendary and Sacred Art,' containing an ac- 
 count of the lives, legends, habits, and attributes of the 
 sacred personages whose stories have been illustrated in 
 the pictures and sculptures of the Middle Ages. The 
 work is in two volumes, of which one and a half are finished 
 and the rest in progress. Mrs. Jameson thinks it right to 
 add that Mr. Murray had undertaken the work, but, for 
 reasons which shall be explained if necessary, Mrs. Jame- 
 son withdrew the book from his hands. 
 
 It may be mentioned here, en passant, that, to 
 test the interest of the general public in the sub- 
 jects Mrs. Jameson proposed illustrating, a series 
 of papers had been selected by her from her work, 
 and published in the columns of the ' Athenaeum,' 
 beginning in the month of January 1845 with ner 
 ' Introduction,' and terminating February i, 1846, 
 with the story of St. Florian. The novelty of the 
 treatment and the charm of her writing, the com- 
 bination of careful research with a perfect appre- 
 ciation of all she had found, the fascination of her 
 eloquent rendering of the legends, and knowledge 
 of the art that illustrated them, insured her success. 
 The negotiations with Messrs. Longman soon came 
 to a satisfactory arrangement ; the one drawback in 
 Mrs. Jameson's mind being that she had bound her- 
 self to finish her second volume and have all ready
 
 228 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 for the press within a given date, I believe two 
 years. 
 
 Now, although the literary portion of the work 
 was nearly complete, the illustrations and the notes 
 were a formidable task yet to be commenced. Not- 
 withstanding the accumulation of prints and tracings 
 that had been progressing for years, there was yet 
 much left to be sought and achieved. In the first 
 place, Italy must be revisited, and Mrs. Jameson had 
 resolved not to leave England again without taking 
 with her the child already mentioned more than once, 
 in whom from her birth she had taken a tender and 
 special interest. She wished to spend some years 
 abroad with her, and to do this, and at the same 
 time fulfil the duties assumed towards the other 
 members of her family, was attended with difficulties. 
 The start, however, was made at last, and we set 
 out in the autumn of this year. She writes in Sep- 
 tember from Paris : 
 
 I am sold into a double captivity ; for, to enable me to 
 do this, I have done what I most hate contracted to 
 finish a book in a certain time. My plans are not quite 
 decided. I dislike Paris ; it is a place which does not 
 harmonise with my nature ; and I shall probably go to 
 Pisa or to Florence by the Rhine and Marseilles. So much 
 for my own biography. 
 
 I have also here a poet and a poetess two celebrities 
 who have run away and married under circumstances pecu- 
 liarly interesting, and such as render imprudence the height
 
 LABORIOUS YEARS. 229 
 
 of prudence. Both excellent ; but God help them ! for I 
 know not how the two poet heads and poet hearts will get 
 on through this prosaic world. I think it possible I may 
 go on to Italy with them. 
 
 This last reference was to a most interesting 
 event which had taken her and all the world by 
 surprise. During the last few years my aunt's 
 friendship with Miss Barrett had been gradually 
 ripening. So strong had the feeling of interest and 
 affection grown in Mrs. Jameson's mind, that when, 
 during the course of her preparation for leaving 
 home, she heard that it was very essential for Miss 
 Barrett's health to spend the winter abroad, though 
 there were reasons which made it impossible she 
 should do so, she had made an appeal to the invalid's 
 family to be allowed to take charge of her and take 
 her to Italy. For this kind offer, though it was 
 not accepted, she had been heartily thanked by 
 the sufferer herself. ' Not only am I grateful to 
 you, but happy to be grateful to you,' says the pretty 
 and tender letter of thanks. ' First I was drawn to 
 you, then I was, and am, bound to you.' When the 
 moment of departure came, another little note of 
 farewell arrived, deploring the writer's inability to 
 come in person and bid her friend good-bye, as she 
 was ' forced to be satisfied with the sofa and silence.' 
 
 And you really go on Monday (she adds), and not 
 ever to come back ? But you did not say that. Miss
 
 2 3 o ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 Mitford was with me yesterday all day, and desired that I 
 should name her to you. And may I send my love to the 
 little visitor you brought me the day before ? 
 
 Remaining your affectionate 
 
 E. B. B. 
 
 With these communications so fresh in her mind, 
 having newly parted indeed from this invalid ' satis- 
 fied with the sofa and silence/ it may be supposed 
 what was Mrs. Jameson's astonishment when, shortly 
 after we reached Paris, she received another little 
 letter, telling her that Robert Browning had just 
 arrived from London, en route for Italy with his 
 wife the same E. B. B. who had so recently taken 
 farewell of her. My aunt's surprise was something 
 almost comical, so startling and entirely unexpected 
 was the news. But it was as delightful as unex- 
 pected, and gave an excitement the more to our 
 journey, which, to one of us at least, was already 
 like a journey into the old world of enchantment a 
 revival of fairyland. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson lost no time in going to the hotel 
 where her friends were staying, and induced them 
 to come at once to the quiet pension in the Rue 
 Ville 1'Eveque, where she herself was living. The 
 result of all which was that, after about a fort- 
 night spent together in Paris, the whole party tra- 
 velled leisurely south to the Brownings' destination, 
 Pisa.
 
 LABORIOUS YEARS. 231 
 
 In the letters lately published by Mr. Home, Mrs. 
 Browning mentions this meeting in Paris with Mrs. 
 Jameson, and the fact of ' their plans having been 
 made up at the last in the utmost haste and agita- 
 tion precipitated beyond all intention/ Miss M it- 
 ford, in her ' Reminiscences,' has entered somewhat 
 into the causes for this precipitation ; but such details 
 of other lives would be out of place here. 
 
 Nevertheless the temptation is great to linger 
 upon the memories of a journey so enchanting, made 
 in the fairest days of youth, and with such com- 
 panionship. The loves of the poets could not have 
 been put into more delightful reality before the eyes 
 of the dazzled and enthusiastic beholder ; but the 
 recollections have been rendered sacred by death as 
 well as by love. 
 
 I may, however, permit myself to recall one 
 scene among many of this wonderful journey. We 
 rested for a couple of days at Avignon, the route to 
 Italy being then much less direct and expeditious, 
 though I think much more delightful, than now ; and 
 while there we made a little expedition, a poetical 
 pilgrimage, to Vaucluse. There, at the very source 
 of the ' chiare, fresche e dolci acque,' Mr. Browning 
 took his wife up in his arms, and, carrying her across 
 through the shallow curling waters, seated her on 
 a rock that rose throne-like in the middle of the 
 stream. Thus love and poetry took a new pos-
 
 232 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 session of the spot immortalised by Petrarch's 
 loving fancy. 
 
 Among the letters in Mr. Home's book already 
 referred to is one written from Pisa after some 
 weeks' residence there, telling him of the success of 
 the journey to Italy, so far as Mrs. Browning's health 
 was concerned : 
 
 I have been gaining strength every week since we left 
 England (she writes), and Mrs. Jameson, who met us in 
 Paris, and travelled with us, called me at the end of six 
 weeks, notwithstanding all the emotion and fatigue, rather 
 transformed than improved. She has now gone to Flo- 
 rence. 
 
 Three out of those six weeks were spent by the 
 travelling companions together in Pisa a period to 
 which both of the survivors must look back with a 
 tender reverent memory, with associations of the 
 past hardly to be breathed aloud, but remembered 
 within one's very soul as a golden oasis in exis- 
 tence. 
 
 This was my first introduction to Italy, and I 
 cannot look back upon it without something of the 
 sense of bewildered happiness with which so many 
 wonders, all rushing at the same moment upon an 
 inexperienced creature scarcely sixteen, so much 
 novelty, so much beauty, and such companionship, 
 filled my mind and whole being. Even the incidents
 
 LABORIOUS YEARS. 233 
 
 of the time are confused in the golden haze of youth- 
 ful delight that envelopes them. I had the happy 
 sense of feeling that I was my aunt's assistant in 
 her important work, and was at her side constantly 
 to trace, to draw, to note, as occasion might require. 
 In the solemn enclosure of the Campo Santo, in the 
 stillness of the Cathedral, and through all the other 
 reliquaries of art in Pisa, she pursued her study 
 with the minutest care, continually pausing to point 
 out what was most admirable, to explain the sequence 
 of art, and to show how one period fitted into another, 
 and how the inspiration of a great master was re- 
 peated, sometimes in broken lights, through his 
 whole school. The work progressed bravely during 
 these weeks in the sleepy tranquillity of the old 
 town. We went out in the brilliant autumn morn- 
 ings so much brighter and warmer than autumn is 
 anywhere else to the work, which was one long 
 succession of pleasures, and often spent our evenings 
 in the same continuous occupation ; she working out 
 the result of her studies, arranging and classifying 
 the additions to her stores, pleased to have the little 
 companion by her to do whatever might be most 
 wanted, from the details of a drawing to the making 
 of that cup of tea which is always an English- 
 woman's consolation. The poet-pair, who were our 
 closest associates, added all that was wanted to the 
 laborious happiness of this time. Mrs. Browning
 
 *34 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 could take no active part in her friend's pursuits, 
 but who shall say of what value was her earnest and 
 unfailing sympathy ? 
 
 Mrs. Jameson remained at Pisa about three 
 weeks, and from thence went on to Florence, from 
 which place she wrote to Mr. Noel on November 10 : 
 
 My first thought and care must be my child for the 
 next year, or perhaps two years ; and the means of instruc- 
 tion and improvement for her are what I seek first every- 
 where. Of Lady Byron I can only tell you that she seems 
 to have set up a foundling hospital. She has her grand- 
 children and little Montgomery all on her hands ; but her 
 last letter to me was cheerful, and without complaint of her 
 health. Now of myself, I have to tell you that our journey 
 through France was in some respects a happy one, in 
 others most anxious and tedious. My poor invalid friend 
 suffered much from fatigue ; and, considering that she had 
 passed seven years without ever leaving her room, you can 
 imagine what it was to convey her from Paris to Pisa. 
 Luckily our journey was nearly over before the heavy rains 
 commenced. We remained in beautiful Pisa three weeks, 
 and then came on to Florence, where we arrived on the 
 /th of this month. 
 
 Here we have taken a lodging in the Piazza Santa 
 Croce, which costs fifteen piastres a month an ante-room, 
 sitting-room, and two bed-rooms, all large handsome rooms ! 
 and this sum includes linen, plate, and service. Our ex- 
 penses of living and fire I calculate at thirty-five piastres 
 about I2/. English money per month altogether. Lom- 
 bardy is cheaper, for the crowds of English here at this 
 time make everything dear. 
 
 We have found several of our friends here, who are
 
 LABORIOUS YEARS. 235 
 
 most ready to be attentive ; but the weather is bitterly 
 cold, and the change of climate, after the soft air of Pisa, 
 is very uncomfortable. Florence is, however, most beau- 
 tiful and full of interest to me ; the masters are good, and I 
 hope we shall spend a month or two here very pleasantly 
 and profitably. 
 
 Among the pleasant houses of friends old and 
 new that made Mrs. Jameson and ' her child ' wel- 
 come in Florence, was that of some very old friends 
 indeed Sir Charles and Lady Herbert Lady Her- 
 bert had been an early and intimate friend of the 
 mother of Mrs. Jameson, and Sir Charles, until he 
 left England for Italy some ten years previously, 
 had been the family friend and physician. None of 
 the elder generation of the Anglo-Saxon residents 
 in Florence can fail to remember the hospitable 
 dwelling of the Herberts in the Palazzo facing the 
 Ponte alia Carraja. Then there was Mrs. Trollope, 
 at whose weekly reunions appeared everyone of any 
 note, and many of no note at all, all alike kindly 
 received by the well-known writer. I remember 
 her disappointment, herself a devoted whist-player, 
 on rinding that Mrs. Jameson did not profess to 
 know one card from another ! The Garrow family 
 with their all-accomplished daughter, Mme. Saba- 
 tier, known in the musical world as Caroline Ungher ; 
 Mme. Catalani both renowned singers in their 
 day ; the sculptor Power, and so many more whose
 
 236 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 names now belong to the past, then belonged to the 
 artist society of Florence. 
 
 We were over two months in Florence two 
 happy months work and amusement treading closely 
 on each other's heels. Mrs. Jameson always per- 
 mitted ' her child,' notwithstanding masters and les- 
 sons, to assist as far as she could in the work she 
 had in hand. Outlines were drawn, tracings made, 
 careful drawings put on the wood and sent home to 
 be engraved for the illustrations. Every day had 
 some new delight in the way of exploring old 
 churches, or visiting art collections or modern 
 studios. For a time, too, Mrs. Jameson went into 
 society in Florence, submitting meekly to be lionised 
 (which from her very heart she hated), and ac- 
 cepting kindness for herself and niece ; until one day 
 there came a letter from Rome from Mme. de Goethe, 
 announcing her arrival in the Eternal City from 
 Meran, where she had been staying for the benefit 
 of her son Wolfs health. Then Mrs. Jameson at 
 once made up her mind to break away from Florence 
 and join her friend Ottilie in Rome.
 
 TRAVELS AND STUDIES. 237 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 TRAVELS AND STUDIES. 
 
 IT was late in the month of January 1847 when 
 Mrs. Jameson visited Rome for the second time. 
 Yet after a lapse of some three-and-twenty years 
 her recollections of it were so vivid, and so little 
 change had taken place in the interim, within the 
 city or without, that she felt herself no stranger. 
 
 Changes there were, however, that were soon to 
 lead to greater. It was the first year of the reign 
 of a new pope, and Pius I X., some six months occu- 
 pant of the pontifical chair, was already astonish- 
 ing Europe in general and his subjects in particular 
 by a line of political conduct altogether opposed 
 to the old papal rdgime of centuries. A pope 
 who commenced his rule by the grant of a general 
 amnesty to all his political adversaries, accorded 
 permission for railroads and gas, interested himself 
 personally about the night-schools for artisans, and 
 went abroad daily on foot among the people, visiting 
 his poorer subjects in their homes of an evening, 
 accompanied generally by a single priest, with no
 
 238 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 sort of guard for protection, a sort of Christian 
 Haroun el Raschid of the nineteenth century, was 
 a change indeed in itself sufficient to make the 
 period of this visit a memorable one. 
 
 The ' season ' that year was what the Romans 
 were then wont to distinguish as buonissima, for 
 Rome was crowded with foreign visitors of all 
 classes, many among them greatly distinguished by 
 name or fortune. ' Father Prout/ in his letters to 
 the ' Daily News,' of which paper he was at the 
 time correspondent, enumerated for the benefit of 
 his readers the number of distinguished strangers 
 sojourning in Rome, winding up the list with an 
 announcement of ' the arrival of Mrs. Jameson, who, 
 with Lady Charlotte Bury and Mrs. Butler, adds to 
 our collection this year of female literary celebrities/ 
 Moreover, either the ' Daily News ' or some other 
 newspaper busied itself with Mrs. Jameson's pro- 
 ceedings, and in a letter to her sister, dated Rome, 
 March 1 847, she alludes to this : 
 
 You amuse me with the newspaper accounts of my 
 doings. I have very pleasant soirees on Sunday evenings, 
 which are liked ; but my room is so small that I cannot 
 have above twenty people, and I give them only tea, at 
 the dispensing of which Gerardine officiates very prettily. 
 I never go out, because if I went to one place I must 
 go to another. I let Gerardine go out occasionally with 
 dear Mrs. Reid, but seldom, for the little head cannot 
 stand it. I was frightened by the publication of Lord
 
 TRAVELS AND STUDIES. 239 
 
 Lindsay's book, 1 but I have seen a copy, and now I do not 
 mind him ; he takes a different ground from mine. Mme. 
 de Goethe is occupied with her sick son ; she has given 
 Gerardine a beautiful scarf. My most useful friend is 
 Miss Montgomery. Lady Byron is, as usual, the best of 
 correspondents, though overwhelmed with cares. 
 
 Those Sunday evening parties, simple as was 
 the entertainment, were of the kind that lends most 
 zest and pleasure to society. Mrs. Jameson's visi- 
 tors were of kindred tastes to her own artists, 
 people of letters, and travellers whose distinction 
 was not that of rank only. John Gibson, the sculp- 
 tor, modest and quaint and homely, not yet quite so 
 great a man as he afterwards became ; Francis 
 Sylvester O'Mahoney (Father Prout), wearing an 
 ineradicable air of the priest and seminarist in 
 strange combination with his frank Bohemianism ; 
 Charles Hemans, gentle, correct, and bland, at the 
 very opposite height of scrupulous respectability, 
 and beginning even then to be looked on by us all 
 as an invaluable companion among the ' chief relics 
 of almighty Rome ; ' Richard Wyatt, Penry Wil- 
 liams, Minardi and Cornelius ; Overbeck, with his 
 severe and saintly aspect ; old Kestner (the son of 
 Goethe's Lotte), who looked as though he never 
 could have been young, but was the kindest, most 
 courtly of envoys ; Dr. Braun, the archaeologist ; 
 and many another, whose names have not remained 
 
 1 Sketches of the History of Christian Art.
 
 240 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 in my memory, were constant visitors. Mme. de 
 Goethe came, surrounded by her own little train of 
 enthusiast friends from Germany, filling the little 
 Roman salon with a perfume of court atmosphere, 
 true grande dame jusqu'au bout des ongles that she 
 was. Mr. and Mrs. Cobden English of the Eng- 
 lish, in strongest contrast to the brilliant and senti- 
 mental Germans were very constant during their 
 stay in Rome ; and we had occasionally Lord Comp- 
 ton and Lord Walpole, then leading artist lives 
 amid the artist studios in Via Margutta, sometimes 
 Lord Beverley with his pleasant courtesy, and always 
 the little fringe of faithful English friends Miss 
 Montgomery, who at that time shared with my 
 aunt the most intimate circle of Lady Byron's friend- 
 ship, and Mrs. Reid, Miss Martineau's and many 
 others' ' dear Mrs. Reid,' whose kind care of her 
 niece Mrs. Jameson has above recorded, a kindness 
 never to be forgotten. To the little personage at 
 the tea-table everything was new, strange, and de- 
 lightful, the very names intoxicating, the talk like 
 that of the gods. And when all had left, the half- 
 hour spent in discussing the talk and the talkers, 
 with entire possession of the dearest and to her the 
 most eloquent of all, giving explanation, comment, 
 and suggestion ! What half-hours ever passed so 
 quickly as these ? 
 
 One Sunday evening, I remember, all other
 
 TRAVELS AND STUDIES, 241 
 
 guests having taken their departure, Mr. Gibson 
 remaining gave us the complete story of his own 
 career. Mrs. Jameson took it down from his own 
 lips, as it were, that night, and later published it in 
 the ' Art Journal.' l Mr. Gibson was wont to say 
 and that he was not one to utter a careless com- 
 plimentary phrase, let those who knew him testify 
 that he owed his start in life more to the praises 
 bestowed on his work by Mrs. Jameson in the pages 
 of her ' Diary of an Ennuyee ' (the Psyche borne 
 aloft by the Zephyrs) than to the fact of this group 
 having been purchased by a noble patron. 
 
 It is interesting to remember, in connection with 
 the sincere friendship that existed between the 
 sculptor and Mrs. Jameson, that the commemora- 
 tive bust in one of the halls of the Kensington 
 Museum was executed by Gibson as a last tribute 
 to her memory, although as a likeness, and even as a 
 work of art, it is in itself scarcely worthy of his 
 hand. 
 
 Our lodging was in the Piazza, di Spagna, No. 53. 
 One of the jokes of our little circle gentle jokes, 
 making much laughter at a cost of little wit, as in 
 the Vicarage of Wakefield was the name given to 
 Mrs. Jameson by Miss Montgomery's coachman 
 1 la signora di cinquante-tre,' which she would say 
 was unkind, as reminding her perpetually of her 
 
 1 See Appendix, 
 k
 
 242 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 age (she was then in her fifty-third year). Our 
 rooms were over Spi'thover's shop, with little bal- 
 conied windows looking out over all the amusing 
 scenes in the Piazza, the sparkling of the great foun- 
 tain, and the picturesque figures, models, and con- 
 tadini, that group themselves upon the Spanish 
 steps, so familiar to all visitors of Rome. We had 
 a large old-fashioned drawing-room, hung with dim 
 long mirrors, that gave a shadowy unreality to 
 everything they reflected, and faded damask hang- 
 ings, and an enormous, cavernous, deep-mouthed 
 fire-place, with sulky martial figures in dim brass 
 for the fire-dogs. The blazing logs, though the 
 warmth they gave went half up the huge chimney 
 (and when the room was full that was no great 
 harm), sent the most cheerful flicker, the only light 
 that seemed to penetrate their dimness, into the 
 mirrors. Here my aunt sat, always with a certain 
 gentle dignity ; for though she was not fond of 
 being looked upon as a lion, she was far from being 
 destitute of a sense of her own well-won honours, 
 and felt the social homage she received in her own 
 house to be her due. Her companion, I fear, as she 
 says in a previous letter, had now and then her 
 little head slightly turned by the strange discovery 
 that there were people who thought her also worth 
 talking to ; and thus, in the very moment when 
 Providence seemed to have given to Mrs. Jameson
 
 TRAVELS AND STUDIES. 243 
 
 a child who might cherish and comfort her for years 
 and make up to her a little for the adversities of 
 fate at the time when she began to get a little 
 real pleasure and aid from the girl to whom she 
 had been a second mother all her life, another great 
 disappointment was already preparing for her. I 
 cannot but feel, with a remorseful pang, how bitter 
 it must have been to her to see the child she had 
 so cherished desert her so summarily. It is the 
 course of nature, as people say, and it is only by 
 the teachings of years that we perceive how hardly 
 the loves and joys of our youth often fall upon 
 those from whom the tide of our own personal life 
 and story carries us away. Mrs. Jameson, of course, 
 no more than any other in her position, would wil- 
 lingly have kept her niece unmarried in order to 
 make of her a permanent companion ; but the speedy 
 conclusion of this companionship startled her and, 
 I fear, must be counted among the disappointments 
 of her life. 
 
 This, however, is not a matter of any importance 
 in these pages, though I can scarcely pass it entirely 
 without mention, as a thing which put a stop to some 
 of my aunt's hopes and cherished intentions. Her 
 life in Rome was a very pleasant one while undis- 
 turbed by all agitations of this kind. As she her- 
 self wrote, she went nowhere unconnected with her 
 present labours, unless it were occasionally for a 
 
 R 2
 
 244 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 long drive, after the day's toils might be considered 
 as over, away into the Campagna with Ottilie or 
 with Miss Montgomery. There were certain old 
 churches that she never wearied in revisiting those 
 of which she afterwards said in her chapter on the 
 Roman Martyrs : 
 
 For myself, I must say I know nothing to compare 
 with a pilgrimage among the antique churches scattered 
 over the Esquiline, the Ccelian, and the Aventine Hills. 
 They stand apart, each in its solitude amid gardens, and 
 vineyards, and heaps of nameless ruins here a group of 
 cypresses, there a lofty pine or solitary palm ; the tutelary 
 saint, perhaps some San? Achilleo or Santa Bibiana, 
 whom we never heard of before ; an altar rich in precious 
 marbles, columns of porphyry, the old frescoes dropping 
 from the walls, the everlasting colossal mosaics looking 
 down so solemn, so dim, so spectral ; these grow upon us, 
 until, at each succeeding visit, they themselves, and the 
 associations with which they are surrounded, become a 
 part of our daily life, and may be said to hallow that daily 
 life when considered in a right spirit. True, what is most 
 sacred, what is most poetical, is often desecrated to the 
 fancy by the intrusion of those prosaic realities which 
 easily strike prosaic minds ; by disgust at the foolish 
 fabrications which those who recite them do not believe, 
 by lying inscriptions, by tawdry pictures, by tasteless and 
 even profane restorations ; by much that saddens, much 
 that offends, much that disappoints. But then so much 
 remains so much to awaken, to elevate, to touch the 
 heart so much that will not from the memory, so much 
 that makes a part of our after-life !
 
 TRAVELS AND STUDIES. 245 
 
 Of San Clemente, one of her favourite haunts, 
 Mrs. Jameson says comparatively little, and avers 
 as her reason for not saying more * of this sin- 
 gular and interesting church, the favourite study of 
 artists and antiquaries,' that descriptions of it may 
 be found in every guide-book. She contents her- 
 self with merely giving the legend of the patron 
 saint, the disciple of St Peter and St Paul, and 
 third bishop of Rome ; and in the life of St. Cathe- 
 rine of Alexandria a list of the subjects from the 
 life of this ' virgin patroness ' painted in the chapel 
 there by Masaccio. The long-concealed substruc- 
 tures of this venerable Basilica, built over what is 
 generally now believed to be the most ancient 
 Christian oratory the house of Clemens had not 
 seen the light after its sepulture of over a thou- 
 sand years : neither then nor at either of the 
 later visits paid by Mrs. Jameson to the Eternal 
 City. Otherwise it may well be imagined that such 
 remains of an 'antique time' would have secured -a 
 notice in her pages, and perhaps a modification of 
 her belief upon the then existing testimonies, ' that 
 the legend of St. Catherine is not of high antiquity ; 
 even among the Greeks it cannot be traced further 
 back than the eighth century ; and in the East it 
 appears to have originated with the monks of Mount 
 Sinai. In a literary form we find it first in the 
 Greek Menology of the Emperor Basil in the ninth
 
 246 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 century. The Crusaders of the eleventh century 
 brought it from the East,' &c. 
 
 The Byzantine St. Catherine, which has been 
 discovered in the original church of San Cle- 
 mente, facing a similar early representation of St. 
 Euphemia (surnamed the Great), martyred near 
 Byzantium early in the fourth century, and known 
 to have been painted by Greek artists a few years 
 after her death, affords a strong argument against 
 this conclusion ; and had Mrs. Jameson seen these 
 richly attired solemn effigies standing in the niche 
 beside the throned Virgin and Child, each distin- 
 guished by her name inscribed near her in old 
 Greek characters, and found them to belong to the 
 early date assigned them, she would have naturally 
 shared in the belief held by the reverend Prior of San 
 Clemente, the fortunate discoverer of the lost church 
 and oratory of the disciple of the Apostles ; and 
 here, too, she would have found a painting com- 
 memorating her favourite Saint Alexis, ' whose 
 story, as given in the " Legendario Romano," is one 
 of the most beautiful of the sacred romances of the 
 Middle Ages.' 
 
 Part of her leisure she gave to visiting the 
 studios that abounded then, as now, in Rome ; and 
 these visits may in truth be said to have proved in 
 many cases as interesting to the artist as to herself 
 and her privileged companion of the hour ; for her
 
 TRAVELS AND STUDIES. 247 
 
 intuitive sympathy and generous appreciation, even 
 her frank disapproval at times, and ready sugges- 
 tion, where suggestion might avail, fell from her 
 lips with such gracious expression, that praise was 
 sweetened and blame rendered acceptable. 
 
 After Easter Mrs. Jameson left Rome and 
 travelled north by Florence, where she found the 
 Brownings ; Bologna, where Mrs. Somerville showed 
 her kindly hospitality; Ravenna, Padua, and Vi- 
 cenza, to Venice. A month passed quickly in this 
 enchanting place, where the mornings were spent in 
 the Belle Arti and the Accademia, and the after- 
 noons among the churches and the lagunes. Thence 
 to Verona and the Lago di Garda, where once more 
 we met Miss Montgomery, and, above all, the Noels, 
 and spent some delightful days at Riva and at 
 Desenzano. One last halt was made at Meran to 
 take leave of Mme. de Goethe and her then still 
 invalid son ; and then straight on to Paris and to 
 England. 
 
 Thus her proposed long absence from England, 
 which was intended for her niece's benefit as well 
 as her own, terminated abruptly. Before Mrs. 
 Jameson left Rome, towards the end of April, the 
 book and its illustrations were approaching com- 
 pletion. But the whole of the summer was given 
 in addition, and it was not till the month of De- 
 cember 1848 that Mrs. Jameson, writing to Mr.
 
 248 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 Longman evidently in reply to some suggestion 
 made by him as to the difficulty she would probably 
 experience in treating of the ' Prince of Darkness,' 
 says : 
 
 I shall be very glad to give the devil his due. You 
 will remember that in the books of the Old Testament he 
 is scarcely recognised as a person. The book of Job is of 
 Chaldaic origin, as it is said by some of the best commen- 
 tators, and the angels in their proper character are not 
 the Anime Beate. When you see the Legend of St. 
 Michael, you will see how I have treated the Adversary \ 
 but keep in mind that I deal with my subject poetically 
 and pictorially, not religiously. I have insisted on this in 
 the introduction. 
 
 The stirring times of 1847-49 were scarcely 
 opportune for the publishing of works on art of any 
 -kind. The public mind was distraught ; events fol- 
 lowed one another so rapidly that men grew giddy 
 and breathless, and Mrs. Jameson's letters to her 
 correspondent Noel are full of the politics of the day, 
 without one mention of the book whose publication 
 was imminent. She writes from Ealingon March 10, 
 1848: 
 
 At present we are all hi the first excitement of this 
 new revolution. There are some disturbances here, but 
 not worth speaking of, except as mere rabble-work ; some 
 windows broken, some heads, and one or two unfortunate 
 people shot in the meMe. But the middle classes here are 
 quiet ; and though they desire progress, they desire no 
 change ; and everyone is now agreed that, but for the
 
 TRAVELS AND STUDIES. 249 
 
 pusillanimity shown by Louis Philippe and his family, a 
 change of ministry would have satisfied the people in 
 France. Do not believe any of the reports in the German 
 papers about disturbances here, for in fact, though there 
 be disturbances, there is nothing more ; no such feeling 
 against the government as in France was universal. 
 Had that treacherous and selfish old king prospered to the 
 end, I should have doubted Providence ! What has in- 
 terested me almost as much as the Revolution has been 
 the result of a murder here, which, from the feeling it has 
 roused, may possibly lead to some first step in a moral 
 sanitary reform. 
 
 Do you see the ' Times ' newspaper ? I do not like 
 violence ; I do not like the canaille ; I do not like dis- 
 turbance or discord of any kind ; but I should like a 
 change which would leave free the intercourse of men, 
 minds, and nations. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson writes to the same friend three 
 months later, also from Ealing : 
 
 These French are the mischief-makers of Europe, and 
 it is small comfort that themselves will be the greatest 
 sufferers. We have terrible news from Paris. How much 
 a few leading spirits are wanted at this moment ! Surely 
 the selfishness and imbecility of the various governments 
 are in fault as much as the misguided people. Such a 
 mass of ignorance and misery weltering under the surface 
 of society, particularly in the Austrian dominions this 
 could not last. In England we are all tranquil, and I 
 have faith in the permanence of this tranquillity, unless 
 the dreadful state of the Continent, by cutting off our 
 commercial resources, should create such a mass of want 
 and misery as can no longer be endured. Then the people 
 may break loose. But we have here, what exists not, I
 
 250 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 believe, anywhere else an immense middle class of several 
 grades, from high professional people down to the shop- 
 keepers, tolerably well educated, accustomed to political 
 considerations, and who are perfectly aware that they 
 must all suffer from disorganisation ; and this, and the 
 feeling which exists generally that order must be main- 
 tained this will perhaps save us. What strange times are 
 these ! 
 
 June 29. I have kept open my letter, dearest Noel. 
 The events at Paris have made us quite heart-sick and 
 breathless. The result has been victory on the side of 
 order and of power ; but what a victory ! And what result 
 are we to look to from that victory, which must tend to 
 strengthen a military aristocracy and despotism ? And 
 what they will do with the prisoners is now the question. 
 Some people anticipate a massacre like the Septembricides 
 in.the first Revolution. The only piece of news I can send 
 you not generally known is the fact that our Queen has 
 determined to go to Ireland, and has obtained with diffi- 
 culty the sanction of the Ministers. She wished to have 
 gone last year, but they would not take the responsibility 
 of permitting her to do so. This year she has carried the 
 point. It is a brave little woman, without shining qualities, 
 but with a good deal of sense and spirit. 
 
 In the autumn the book was at length ready for 
 the press. There had been a succession of delays, 
 caused chiefly by incessant additions, and so laborious 
 a revision of the proofs that again and again Mrs. 
 Jameson, in her conscientious anxiety to give her 
 best to the public, overstepped the limits allowed 
 by her contract, and corrected and re-corrected at 
 her own expense. No sooner was it fairly in
 
 TRAVELS AND STUDIES. 251 
 
 the printer's hands, however, a fait accompli, than 
 she took flight from the scenes of her cares and 
 anxieties, and fulfilled a long-cherished intention of 
 revisiting Ireland, which she had not seen since she 
 quitted it with her father and mother in 1798. She 
 had received pressing invitations from an old and 
 valued family friend, the then Lord Chancellor of 
 Ireland, Maziere Brady, from Miss Edgeworth 
 and others, which decided her on leaving London, 
 or rather England, while her book took final shape 
 and form. 
 
 From Hazelbrook, near Dublin, Mrs. Jameson 
 wrote to her sister on September 30, 1848 : 
 
 The best thing I can do for your amusement is to give 
 you an itinerary of my proceedings. On Tuesday I left 
 Hazelbrook, with the Chancellor, his wife and youngest 
 daughter, in a very pretty open barouche. We went 
 through a beautiful country among the Wicklow mountains 
 to Enniskerry, where we had a hospitable reception and 
 luncheon in a most romantic spot. Then on to Powers- 
 court, through the beautiful grounds, and on to Bray, 
 where dinner had been ordered, and where we slept. 
 Wednesday, 27th, we left Bray, after admiring the beach 
 and the promontory of Bray Head, and drove through 
 the most lovely scenery to Rathdrum, where we entered 
 the vale of Avoca, saw the ' meeting of the waters,' and 
 followed the course of the river through the valley to the 
 sea, passing through Arklow, and returning to the Avoca 
 Inn, where we slept. Thursday, 28th, we left Avoca early, 
 and drove through the wildest and most beautiful moun- 
 tain scenery to the vale of Glendalough (the ' Valley of the
 
 252 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 Seven Churches '), where we visited the Round Tower, the 
 Chapel of St. Kevin, and then returned by Annamoe, 
 Roundwood, and through the mountain passes to Bray, 
 where we dined and slept at the same delightful inn. On 
 Friday, 29th, we returned to Dublin by the Dargle, in 
 which we spent two hours, wandering about while the 
 carriage waited. 
 
 You see my time has been hitherto most pleasantly 
 employed. The excursion was delightful altogether, with- 
 out losses or crosses ; everybody in high good humour 
 no cares, having two servants in attendance and our own 
 carriage while as to the scenery, I cannot express its 
 beauty, so different in character from anything I had 
 seen in Italy or Germany. My dearest mother will be 
 able to follow me every step of the way. On our return 
 we had a beautiful view of Killiney mountain and bay, 
 which made me think of Eliza. To-day it is pouring rain, 
 so we just got home in time. 
 
 Making the hospitable mansion of the Chancellor 
 her temporary home, Mrs. Jameson went thence on 
 various long excursions north and south, visiting 
 Miss Edgeworth, Archbishop Whately and his 
 family, the Archers, &c., on her way south. On 
 October 24, she wrote to Mr. Longman from the 
 fair city of Limerick : 
 
 DEAR MR. LONGMAN, I found your letter here ; pray 
 do not forget that I wish only two copies sent to Dublin 
 the others to my address at Baling. I wish my dear 
 mother to be the first person to have a copy, as in duty 
 bound. I am afraid the book- will be too expensive that 
 my vanity wHl be gratified at the expense of my pocket. 
 I am afraid it will not do, and begin to wish I had fol-
 
 TRAVELS AND STUDIES. 253 
 
 lowed my first thought, and published it cheaply. Who 
 buys or reads expensive books in these days ? / do not, 
 certainly ; but I am in your hands, and feel sure that you 
 will do the best you can for me. I shall deliver your mes- 
 sage myself to the great Maria. 1 She is writing some- 
 thing (entre nous). She is full of life and vivacity, and is 
 now eighty-one, as she told me herself. 
 
 I have also spent two days with Lord Rosse at Bin 
 Castle, and have seen the awful telescope, and not only 
 looked into it, but walked into it. As for Ireland, there 
 may be I hope there is redemption for her some time 
 or other, but nothing can be gloomier than the present 
 prospects. I saw yesterday the departure of a troop of 
 half-starved emigrants from their desperate families ; I 
 have not yet recovered from the spectacle it was a ter- 
 rible tragedy. 
 
 On November 8, Mrs. Jameson writes to the 
 same : 
 
 I have just seen a review in the ' Examiner,' written in 
 a very kind spirit. I have been very much indisposed. 
 The miserable spectacles I have witnessed, the severe 
 weather, the bad travelling accommodation, anxiety about 
 friends abroad, have conspired to bring on a sort of low 
 fever, from which I am now recovering. 
 
 Dublin, November 24. 
 
 DEAR MR. LONGMAN, I have received my book ; it 
 looks very pretty, and I get plenty of compliments, as a 
 matter of course ; but compliments do not mean success, 
 and as yet I do not know what to hope on that score. I 
 wonder why anybody should care to read it in these 
 agitated times. 
 
 1 Mrs. Jameson had been staying with the Edgeworth family at 
 Edgeworthstown.
 
 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 Notwithstanding Mrs. Jameson's apprehensions, 
 the success of her volumes on ' Sacred and Le- 
 gendary Art ' was entirely satisfactory to herself, to 
 her friends, and, last not least, to her publishers. 
 She had carried on her notes and studies and illus- 
 trations for the second in order of the series, ' The 
 Monastic Orders,' simultaneously with the first, so 
 that she was less oppressed for the time with close 
 work in order to be ready for press by a given date. 
 
 Of her journey to Ireland as a whole, looking 
 back upon the three months passed in her own 
 country, Mrs. Jameson writes her impressions to 
 Mr. Noel on December 16 : 
 
 In the first week of last September, being quite worn 
 out with hard work, I ran away for change. I was quite 
 ill. I ran to Ireland, of all places in the world, because 
 I felt ashamed that I had not visited my native land. I 
 went from Dublin to Enniskillen and Lough Erne, then 
 southwards to Longford, where I spent ten days with the 
 Edgeworths, and found that celebrated family as charming 
 as the world had believed them. Maria Edgeworth lively 
 and full of all natural sympathies at the age of eighty-one. 
 Thence I travelled through Galway, and saw the sun set 
 on the Atlantic ; then through Limerick, Tipperary, Clon- 
 mel, Waterford, Wexford, and so back to Dublin, where, 
 before I left, I saw a good deal of society. You will now 
 ask me what are my general impressions. I have seen 
 enough to make me hopeless, but yet I hope. In the 
 north the linen trade is prospering, every loom at work. 
 In the west and south, all property, all society appear 
 to be falling into a state of dissolution. The failure of
 
 TRAVELS AND STUDIES. 255 
 
 the potatoes has changed the face of the country. The 
 people die, or emigrate, or crowd into the poor-houses. 
 The poor-rates press so heavily on the already burdened 
 land that the landlords are driven to despair. The poor- 
 law, unfit in its present working for Ireland or the Irish, 
 seems destined to complete the process of degradation. 
 I heard Archbishop Whately call it ' the last and most 
 fatal of England's blunders with regard to ill-fated Ireland.' 
 If governments can profit, as we hope they can, in these 
 enlightened times, by the past, Ireland will not have 
 suffered in vain. But when I was there I could not specu- 
 late and philosophise ; I could only feel sick at heart, 
 viewing the horrible misery which met me at every step 
 large buildings, once mills and manufactories, all empty 
 idleness and desolation and starvation everywhere. The 
 government is really trying do do something, but with the 
 best will it is a work of two or three generations. The 
 English papers and wiseacres talk gravely of colonising 
 Ireland what a comment on its condition ! Lord 
 Clarendon is considered the best and most efficient Lord 
 Lieutenant ever sent to that country, and there is a mingled 
 decision, vivacity, kindliness, and power in his character 
 which will, I hope, work well. He is both loved and 
 feared. 
 
 I may add here a more pleasant chapter of her 
 experiences in Ireland, taken from her ' Commonplace 
 Book : ' 
 
 When travelling in Ireland, I stayed over one Sunday 
 in a certain town in the north, and rambled out early in 
 the morning. It was cold and wet, the streets empty and 
 quiet, but the sound of voices drew me in one direction, 
 down a court where there was a Roman Catholic chapel. 
 It was so crowded that many of the congregation stood
 
 256 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 round the door. I remarked among them a number of 
 soldiers and most miserable-looking women. All made 
 way for me with true national courtesy, and I entered at 
 the moment the priest was finishing mass, and about to 
 begin his sermon. There was no pulpit, and he stood on 
 the step of the altar ; a fine-looking man, with a bright 
 face, a sonorous voice, and a very strong Irish accent. 
 His text was from Matt. v. 43, 44. 
 
 He began by explaining what Christ really meant by 
 the words ' Love thy neighbour,' then drew a picture in 
 contrast of hatred and dissension, commencing with dis- 
 sension in families, between kindred, and between husband 
 and wife. Then he made a most touching appeal in be- 
 half of children brought up in an atmosphere of contention, 
 where no love is. ' God help them ! God pity them ! 
 small chance for them of being either good or happy, for 
 their young hearts are saddened and soured with strife, and 
 they eat their bread in bitterness ! ' Then he preached 
 patience to the wives, indulgence to the husbands, and 
 denounced scolds and quarrelsome women in a manner 
 that seemed to glance at recent events. ' When ye are 
 found in the streets vilifying and slandering one another, 
 ay, fighting and tearing each other's hair, do ye think 
 ye' re women ? No, ye're not, ye're devils incarnate, and 
 ye'll go where the devils will be fit companions for ye ! ' 
 &c. (Here some women near me, with long black hair 
 streaming down, fell on their knees sobbing with contri- 
 tion.) He then went on in the same strain of homely 
 eloquence to the evils of political and religious hatred, and 
 quoted the text, ' If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, 
 live peaceably with all men.' ' I'm a Catholic,' he went 
 on, ' and I believe in the truth of my own religion above all 
 others. I'm convinced, by long study and observation, it's 
 the best that is ; but what then ? Do ye think 1 hate my
 
 TRAVELS AND STUDIES. 257 
 
 neighbour because he thinks differently ? Do ye think I 
 mane to force my religion down other people's throats ? ' 
 
 He then insisted and demonstrated that all the miseries of 
 life, all the sorrows and mistakes of men, women, and chil- 
 dren, and, in particular, all the disasters of Ireland, the bank- 
 rupt landlords, the religious dissensions, the fights domestic 
 and political, the rich without care for the poor, and the 
 poor without food or work all arose from nothing but the 
 want of love. ' Down on your knees,' he exclaimed, ' and 
 ask God's mercy and pardon ; and, as ye hope to find it, 
 ask pardon of one another for every angry word ye have 
 spoken, for every uncharitable thought that has come into 
 your minds ; and if any man or woman have aught against 
 his neighbour, no matter what, let it be plucked out of his 
 heart before he leaves this place, let it be forgotten at the 
 door of this chapel. Let me, your pastor, have no more 
 rason to be ashamed of you, as if I were set over wild 
 bastes, instead of Christian men and women ! ' 
 
 After more in this fervid strain, which I cannot recol- 
 lect, he gave his blessing in the same earnest heartfelt 
 manner. I never saw a congregation more attentive, 
 more reverent, and apparently more touched and edi- 
 fied (1848.) 
 
 From the melancholy scenes which thus distressed 
 her, endowed as she was with sympathy too keen 
 for her own comfort, she soon passes, however, to 
 a very different scene ; and the next letter we find is 
 from the cheerful, though to her most unsympa- 
 thetic, locality of Brighton, whence she writes to Mr. 
 Noel in January 1849. The sketch of the great 
 preacher here given will interest many readers : 
 
 s
 
 258 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 I am at Brighton. We have had a sick house, and my 
 niece and sister are here for change. My great pleasure 
 is hearing Mr. Robertson preach. I met him at dinner 
 yesterday, and we talked of you. He desired me to 
 say that he should never forget the days passed with 
 you at Botzen, and that he wishes he had followed your 
 advice two years ago. He wishes that he had called 
 sooner on Lady Byron ; there is great mutual admiration 
 apparently. I went yesterday twice to church to hear 
 Robertson preach. I never heard anything to equal him 
 in eloquence really fine speaking, not mere fervour and 
 fluency ; a logical distribution of his subject, and an entire 
 command of himself and his own power, as well as of his 
 audience. In general fine preachers disturb me and shock 
 my taste, because they are carried away by their own ex- 
 citement. He never is. I regret to see that he is in deli- 
 cate health. 
 
 I need not apologise for introducing here the 
 following letter from Sir Robert Peel on the sub- 
 ject of Mrs. Jameson's Irish experiences, which 
 called forth in him feelings so similar to her own : 
 
 Drayton Manor, April 8, 1849. 
 
 MY DEAR MRS. JAMESON, Your letter reached me 
 just as I had concluded reading an article in the ' Edin- 
 burgh Review ' on ' Sacred and Legendary Art,' and was 
 rejoicing in the tribute of full approbation paid to your 
 ' eloquent and beautiful volumes.' 
 
 I did you injustice in feeling some momentary surprise 
 that you could turn from the splendid visions of St. 
 Christopher and St. Catherine to the personal examination 
 of the terrible realities of the west of Ireland.
 
 TRA VELS AND STUDIES. 259 
 
 I wish you could not confirm my mournful impressions 
 as to the present, and my gloomy anticipations of the 
 future. I would willingly have resigned even the great 
 satisfaction I have derived from concurrence in my general 
 views and sentiments, expressed with much force and 
 feeling, for an assurance from your pen that my apprehen- 
 sions as to the extent and rapid increase of moral and 
 social evil were without foundation. 
 
 That assurance, however, you cannot give me, and all 
 that is left for us is to cherish the hope that this chastening 
 of the Almighty may be sent for some beneficent pur- 
 pose ; and that, by awakening us to a true sense of our 
 danger, it may stimulate exertions that would not other- 
 wise be made for the social improvement of Ireland. Be- 
 lieve me, my dear madam, very faithfully yours, 
 
 ROBERT PEEL. 
 
 The following remarks upon a subject which 
 has again become very near, and of the greatest 
 interest to all who are concerned (and who is not 
 concerned ?) in European politics, were written to a 
 friend on May 24 : 
 
 As to politics, the continental politics distance all 
 imaginings. ... Of the result I entertain no doubt. The 
 spirit now stirring through Europe is not to be put down 
 by Russia, though the Russian hordes may overrun and 
 devastate Europe, and for the time turn the current in 
 favour of Austria. Even this is doubtful, for the Russian 
 army is a vile machine. It is one thing to gain battles 
 and make carnage, it is another thing to conquer. What 
 conquests has Russia ever made ? As to our state here, - 
 we are tranquil. There was a chance of the ministry g 
 
 out on the navigation laws. It has blown over, and but* 
 
 . 
 
 S 2
 
 260 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 for that wretched political ulcer, poor Ireland, we might 
 be deemed prosperous. The Funds are at 93 to-day. 
 
 On Saturday the Queen was shot at in the Park by 
 some idle fellow, and we have since been in a fever of 
 loyalty. The fact is that the Queen has never been so 
 popular. The evils and miseries of the Continent, a horror 
 of disorder, her own blameless and conscientious life and 
 excellent conduct, the good sense shown of late by Prince 
 Albert in aiding plans for the amelioration of the people, 
 have greatly tended to endear both to the public, and 
 when they appeared at the theatre their reception was 
 enthusiastic. 
 
 For all that, I do not think that we are in safe har- 
 bour, that the tempest will sweep by us and leave us un- 
 touched. I am not sure I wish it ; but there is a principle 
 of vitality and development in our institutions, admitting 
 change before it is forced upon us, and the privileges of 
 grumbling aloud, speechifying, abusing and caricaturing 
 the ruling powers, are so many safety-valves. The conti- 
 nental nations are like children trying to use the two-edged 
 instruments with which our hands are familiar ; they only 
 cut themselves. When I go to town, I shall probably -see 
 Mr. Cobden, and I will tell him what you say. When I 
 was last in town, I was at a party at his house, and then 
 soon afterwards at a party at Lord Lansdowne's. The 
 difference was amusing. 
 
 Many people look to Sir Robert Peel at present. I 
 sometimes think he is waiting to be forced into office by 
 the voice of the people, and that the time may be at hand. 
 
 After all these comments on public affairs we 
 return to her private life in the following letter to 
 Miss Sedgwick :
 
 TRAVELS AND STUDIES. 261 
 
 Ealing : October 10, 1849. 
 
 MY DEAREST CATHERINE, As I was returning home 
 yesterday in the railway train from Derbyshire, I was 
 thinking of you, and that I must and should write to you 
 forthwith ; and lo ! as I was walking up the road home- 
 wards, I met the postman, who touched his hat, and put a 
 letter into my hand yours, by Mrs. Pollen, but dated so 
 long ago, July, and this is October. As I was devouring 
 the lines by the imperfect light, I had nearly been run 
 over by a stage-coach. I had heard of Mrs. Pollen's 
 arrival, and only waited her arrival in town to hold out my 
 arms to her. Yes, I remember her well ; and, for her own 
 sake and for yours, I shall be charmed to see her again. 
 How I feel sometimes the want of a residence in town, 
 the want of a home to which I could welcome my friends ! 
 This little cell in my mother's cottage is a 'sort of nest 
 which just holds my books and me ; and though Words- 
 worth talks of books having tendrils strong as flesh and 
 blood, I feel often all the difference ; but no, I believe, on 
 consideration, that it is we who have the tendrils, and 
 twine round our books. But, in any case, mine don't, 
 except about very few yours,, perhaps books which are 
 not mere books. How is it with you ? With me it is as 
 if the roots of my life and its tendrils too grew stronger as 
 I grow older, and social life is becoming more necessary 
 to me just as my power of commanding it is lessened ; 
 but we must do the best we can. Is there no hope of 
 your coming to England none, not even in the far 
 future ? But, at least, you can write a little oftener ; and 
 so can I, for that matter. Your last I received on April 4. 
 I don't know how often I have written to you since. 
 
 But I have not yet told you something in which you 
 will sympathise with me truly. My niece Gerardine was
 
 262 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 married on September 4 to Robert Macpherson, an artist 
 by profession, of a good Highland family, and a good, 
 kind, honest-hearted man. I was against the union at 
 first ; but what seemed a sudden rash fancy on both sides 
 became respectable from its constancy. I am glad now 
 that I yielded. She may probably have to suffer, there 
 will be a struggle with the world ; but at least the natural 
 life will have flowed in its healthy natural course, and the 
 trials which come will mature, and will not embitter, the 
 character. I hold to the right of every human being to 
 work out their own salvation ; and the old have a right to 
 advise, but no right to prescribe an existence to, the young. 
 So Geddie has married the man whom she preferred from 
 the first moment she saw him, and as yet they are en- 
 chanted with each other. They are now in Scotland, 
 residing among his friends and relations, and they return 
 to Rome, which will be their residence for some years, in 
 about three weeks. Then I lose my child, poor little 
 thing ; and the present state of Italy makes me anxious, 
 but he understands his position, the place, and the people, 
 and I hope the best. Probably I shall be in Italy myself 
 next year. 
 
 I am glad, dear Catherine, that you are happy in your 
 Kate's marriage ; give my love to her. I wish I knew her 
 husband, that I might bring the whole circle before me. I 
 have been reading Sir Charles Lyell's travels in America. 
 I was charmed with it. Surely it must please and interest 
 in America ; has it not ? Did you see him and his sweet 
 little wife ? they are valued friends of mine. My ' Le- 
 gendary Art ' has had great success, and I am so glad it 
 has pleased my American friends. I am preparing a third 
 volume, the ' Legends of the Monastic Orders,' which will, 
 I hope, be found useful ; it opens on a vast field of morals 
 as well as art, and the difficulty will, as formerly, lie in
 
 TRAVELS AND STUDIES. 26 j 
 
 compressing my materials. Do you know Mrs. Browning, 
 who was Elizabeth Barrett, the poetess ? I have had a 
 charming letter from her. Think of the poor invalid being 
 the mother of a fine boy ! . . . I don't and won't admire 
 Jenny Lind, whose success has been of a kind to make all 
 such triumphs ridiculous. She is an accomplished singer 
 and second-rate actress ; we have had so many better ! Of 
 my dear friend Lady Byron, I can only say that she is 
 rather better than she was a month ago. It is a hopeless 
 state of invalidism, but such a tenacity of life that I do not 
 give way to terror about her now, as I used to do. If you 
 can by any means give publicity in your country to the 
 enclosed paper, pray do it ; it will be to me a favour and a 
 service. Can you send a copy to Professor Longfellow ? 
 
 Ever, dearest Catherine, your affectionate friend. 
 I am going to write to Fanny ; what is her name now ? 
 
 A New Year's greeting came early in January 
 from across the Atlantic that gave Mrs. Jameson 
 the sincerest pleasure, as any tribute of esteem or 
 affection from her friends in America never failed 
 to bring her. It was Mr. Longfellow who thus 
 addressed her from Cambridge, Massachusetts : 
 
 DEAR MRS. JAMESON, Having many friends who 
 are your friends and admirers, and none more so than my 
 own wife, I venture to smuggle myself in among them at 
 this season, and wish you all the good wishes of the New 
 Year. I beg you to accept a volume of poems which I 
 have just published, and in which I hope there may be 
 something that will give you pleasure, you who have given 
 me so much, particularly your last work, ' Sacred and
 
 264 ANNA JAMESON, 
 
 Legendary Art.' How very precious it is to me ! Indeed, 
 I shall hardly try to express to you the feelings of affec- 
 tion with which I have cherished it from the first moment 
 it reached us, now a year ago. It most amply supplies 
 the cravings of the religious sentiment, of the spiritual 
 nature within. It produces in my soul the same effect 
 that great organists have produced by laying slight weights 
 upon certain keys of their instruments, thus keeping an 
 unbroken flow of melody, whilst their fingers are busy 
 with the other keys and stops. And there let these 
 volumes lie, pressing just enough upon my thoughts to 
 make perpetual music. God bless you for this book ! 
 Your sincere friend, 
 
 HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.
 
 LATER LIFE. 265 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 LATER LIFE. 
 
 FROM the commencement of the year 1851, Mrs. 
 Jameson's more influential friends had bestirred 
 themselves with a view to having her name placed 
 on Her Majesty's Pension List. One of Mrs. 
 Jameson's earliest friends, Mrs. Procter, was the first 
 to receive through Mr. Thackeray the intimation that 
 the suggested nomination met with the approval of 
 Lord John Russell. Lord Stanley of Alderley had 
 personally made the application to the Prime 
 Minister, and sent the answer he received enclosed 
 in a note from himself to Mr. Thackeray. Mr. 
 Thackeray forwarded both communications to Mrs. 
 Procter, writing on Lord Stanley's letter a charac- 
 teristic note in his own hand. ' There, ma'am, I 
 think this is pretty good news on the whole ! Just 
 found it at the Athenaeum, where I'm come to 
 work.' 
 
 Lord John's letter ran thus : 
 
 May 12, 1851. 
 
 DEAR STANLEY, Mrs. Jameson's deserts are worthy 
 of consideration when I can recommend for pensions, but
 
 266 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 till the end of June there is but a very trifling sum at 
 the disposal of the Crown. Pray explain this to Mr. 
 Thackeray. Yours truly, 
 
 J. RUSSELL. 
 
 On July 2 Lord John wrote to Lord Stanley : 
 
 The Queen has been pleased to grant a pension of 
 ioo/. a year to Mrs. Jameson. I wish you would inform 
 her of it, and ask her to name two trustees to receive the 
 payments. Yours truly, 
 
 J. RUSSELL. 
 
 A letter of the same date from Lord Stanley 
 accompanied this satisfactory note from Lord John, a 
 letter so kind and considerate that I cannot refrain 
 from giving it here : 
 
 DEAR THACKERAY, I have just received a letter from 
 Lord John Russell, informing me that the Queen has been 
 pleased to grant a pension of ioo/. a year to Mrs. Jameson, 
 and requesting me to inform her of it. As it was through 
 your representations to me of the circumstances and con- 
 dition of that lady that I brought her case before Lord 
 John Russell, I will trust to your kindness to make this 
 communication to her, and to say how happy I am to 
 have been in any degree the means of bringing forward the 
 claims of one who is so well entitled to the consideration 
 of her sovereign. 
 
 I enclose Lord John's letter, by which you will see 
 that Mrs. Jameson must name two trustees to receive the 
 payments. 
 
 She had, perhaps, better write a letter of acknowledg- 
 ment to Lord John, and if she likes it may be enclosed 
 to me.
 
 LATER LIFE. 267 
 
 The trustees named by Mrs. Jameson were Mr. 
 Thackeray and Mr. Murray. The former stated 
 his readiness to accept the charge in the follow- 
 ing delightful little letter dated from Kensington, 
 July 6 : 
 
 MY DEAR MRS. JAMESON, I am very nearly as pleased 
 as you are, and shall gladly be your godfather to promise 
 and vow the necessary things in your name. I saw Lord 
 John Russell yesterday, and thanked him, and told him 
 how happy some people were made, and what you said 
 about your mother, which touched the premier's heart. 
 And I wish / had a couple of trustees and a pension 
 
 For yours very truly, 
 
 W. M. THACKERAY. 
 
 The preparations for the first ' Great Exhibition,' 
 commonly so called in days before exhibitions be- 
 came so general, and the opening in May 1851 of 
 the Crystal Palace in Hyde Park, were at this time 
 the uppermost subject in men's minds. Mrs. Jame- 
 son undertook to prepare one of the many guide- 
 books required for the various departments, the task 
 entrusted to her being the ' Companion to the Court 
 of Modern Sculpture.' Her pamphlet was repub- 
 ished in 1854 by Messrs. Bradbury and Evans in 
 the series known as ' The Crystal Palace Library.' 
 
 Mrs. Jameson's interest in the vast undertaking 
 had been profound from the commencement ; and 
 from the following letter, written to Mr. Longman 
 in August 1851, from Ealing, it is evident that an
 
 268 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 article from her on the Crystal Palace, for the 
 ' Edinburgh Review,' had been discussed between 
 them : '."' 
 
 DEAR MR. LONGMAN, I find that I must give up all 
 thoughts of executing the literary undertakings which 
 were in my mind, and confine myself to those which are 
 on my conscience. The state of my mother's health is such 
 that I never feel sure of my proceedings, except in so far 
 that I shall not leave England during the next year (except 
 it be to go over to Paris for a week), and that I shall finish 
 my "book of ' Madonnas ' out of hand. It requires all the 
 time, thought, and labour I can now dispose of. 
 
 So much is written, and well written, on the subject of 
 the Great Exhibition, that I can be spared. Many con- 
 siderations, suggested by what I have seen and compared, 
 lie in my mind, to come forth some day or other, in some 
 form or other, perhaps. If they never appear, the loss 
 will not be great to anyone. The tendencies of national 
 character as displayed in national art will of course find a 
 place, and the condition of the producers and workers in 
 each country would make the subject of a separate article 
 of unspeakable value. In conversation I find this last 
 topic growing on men's minds. I wish the ' Edinburgh ' 
 would take it up. The canvas is ready ; we only want the 
 picture, with all its grouping, colour, light, shade, and in- 
 finite variety. 
 
 In the month of November Mrs. Jameson had 
 received proposals from a bookseller in Belfast 
 for the publication of a new edition of her book on 
 Canada. She immediately wrote to Mr. Longman 
 on the subject of these proposals, saying that if he
 
 LATER LIFE. 269 
 
 (Mr. Longman) still wished to have the ' Winter 
 Studies and Summer Rambles,' she would hand the 
 work over to him for the price offered her by the 
 Irish publisher, with an additional sum of io/. for 
 alterations and corrections and seeing through the 
 press. ' I intend/ she adds, ' to omit one-fourth of 
 the matter, and to make some changes interesting 
 at the present time, and with regard to present 
 affairs in Canada.' 
 
 Apparently Mr. Longman agreed at once to 
 these terms, for Mrs. Jameson writes a fortnight 
 later that ' the Canada book as altered and curtailed 
 will require a new title. What do you think of 
 " Sketches in Canada and Rambles among the Red 
 Men," which would best express what it now is ? 
 If you can suggest a better title, I shall be glad to 
 have it.' l 
 
 On July 22, 1852, Mrs. Jameson acknowledges 
 the receipt of a first copy of the book, and writes to 
 Mr. Longman that ' it looks very nice. I hope it 
 will have some success for your sake ; but on look- 
 ing over the pages it seems to me as if left far be- 
 hind in my life.' 
 
 At the close of the year 1851, Mrs. Jameson 
 had written to Mr. Noel a propos of the subject 
 that was becoming more and more interesting to 
 
 1 The book, forming two parts of ' The Traveller's Library,' was 
 published May 1852, under the title here given by Mrs. Jameson.
 
 270 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 her mind and heart the education of the masses, 
 and more especially the amelioration of the condi- 
 tion of the women and children of the poorer classes. 
 This letter is dated December 21, 1852 : 
 
 Now as for news. You have probably heard from Lady 
 Byron. She is tolerably well ; she has been deeply in- 
 terested in the educational conference held at Birmingham 
 on the subject of juvenile statistics, and has offered a prize 
 of 2OO/. for the best essay on the subject of juvenile crime, 
 and legislation to meet the difficulties. Ralph l being ill, 
 or rather just recovering from scarlet fever, she could not 
 go down herself to Birmingham. I went down with Miss 
 Murray, Miss Montgomery, and Mrs. Rathbone, to hear 
 what the lawyers and the clergy had to say. It was very 
 interesting ; and the result is that the question is to be 
 agitated in every possible way till public sympathy, and 
 public opinion, and public conscience have borne down all 
 opposition. The object is to make parents responsible for 
 their children's moral education ; or, in default, and the 
 child becoming amenable to legal correction, taking away 
 the child and taxing the parents. To me the question is 
 of more interest, and to England of more importance, than 
 the vile French politics. I am filled with disgust ; and 
 you will see that the whole English press (with the ex- 
 ception of a few ultra-tory papers) has declared against 
 the President, even the Times. Their first writers have 
 been worthily employed lately in showing up the mon- 
 strous perjury and heartlessness and utter want of principle 
 in that man. He may succeed, probably will succeed ; 
 but what a pis-aller ! what a people, who play at politics 
 like children, and act dramas for the edification of the 
 
 1 Lady Byron's youngest grandchild, now Lord Wentworth.
 
 LATER LIFE. 
 
 271 
 
 world ! No principle round which to rally, no man to 
 represent worthily any party, no law, no press, no spirit, 
 no nothing I As Mrs. P. said the other day, ' they are 
 such a set of wretches, one does not care which side is 
 licked, so that they get it all round.' There is a party of 
 sympathisers here in England who talk of Louis Napoleon's 
 ' manliness, decision, vigour, cleverness,' and so forth this 
 you can imagine but the sense of the nation is against 
 him. What will the next five years bring forth ? 
 
 The ' Legends of the Madonna ' came out in 
 1852 ; it was a work that cost its writer far more 
 thought and anxiety than either of the preceding 
 volumes. In the preface she says : 
 
 With far more of doubt and diffidence, yet not less 
 trust in the benevolence and candour of my critics, do I 
 present this volume to the public. I hope it will be dis- 
 tinctly understood that the general plan of my work is 
 merely artistic, that it really aims at nothing more than to 
 render the various subjects intelligible. 
 
 I may have been superficial from mere abundance of 
 materials, sometimes mistaken as to facts and dates ; the 
 tastes, the feelings, and the faith of my readers may not 
 always go along with me ; but if attention and interest 
 have been excited, if the sphere of enjoyment in works of 
 art have been enlarged and enlightened, I have done all I 
 ever wished, all I ever hope to do. 
 
 During this period from 1851 to 1854, Mrs. 
 Jameson lived chiefly in Bruton Street, in the house 
 of her sister Camilla, Mrs. Sherwin, now the only 
 survivor of the family. Here she was able to collect
 
 272 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 her friends about her, and saw a good deal of 
 what may fairly be termed brilliant society at the 
 simple evening parties which she held on Wednes- 
 day evenings, much after the fashion of the Roman 
 reunions, in which the circle of her literary friends 
 was diversified by a little admixture from the great 
 world, and by the occasional appearance of strangers 
 of note, Americans and foreigners. For some time 
 Lady Byron was in the habit of spending these 
 evenings with her friend when her uncertain health 
 permitted, always an interesting figure in any 
 society ; and the quiet drawing-room became the 
 scene of many a lively talk and animated discussion, 
 its abiding spirits, art and literature, being sometimes 
 set aside and cast into the background, in favour of 
 the new and eager voices of philanthropy and social 
 progress, which found so quick a response in the 
 heart of its mistress. Not only was Lady Byron, 
 her most intimate associate, in herself a centre of 
 benevolent schemes of all kinds, but the younger 
 members of the little society, the girls who looked 
 up with passionate admiration to these two chief 
 figures, were full of a thousand projects for the 
 amelioration of the world and the help (specially) 
 of women, a subject of continued and enthusiastic 
 discussion. Throughout her whole literary life 
 Mrs. Jameson had so entirely woven in her own 
 personality with her work, that it requires no effort
 
 LATER LIFE. 273 
 
 to trace in her next publication the influence of 
 this society and of the gathering of old friends 
 and new, which greeted her return home after so 
 many absences. Reflections of genial leisure after 
 severe work, and of the pleasant conjunction of 
 minds in tune : echoes of conversations full of flying 
 gleams of thought, airy fancies, and musings softly 
 sad, such as pass with graceful fluency, though 
 perhaps no great depth, among a little company 
 of cultivated women : give what seems to me a very 
 delicate charm to the volume published two years 
 later, and which she entitled ' A Commonplace 
 Book of Thoughts, Memories, and Fancies.' It is 
 nothing, yet it is full of a thousand melodious 
 suggestions, undertones of sentiment and feeling, 
 and beautiful fragments of thought. The papers 
 from which it was composed were, according to her 
 express desiie, burnt after her death. Her own 
 explanation of her work is so completely in keeping 
 with the description of it which I have ventured to 
 give, that I cannot do better than quote it here : 
 
 I must be allowed to say a few words in explanation 
 of the contents of this little volume, which is truly what its 
 name sets forth a book of commonplaces, and nothing 
 more. If I have never, in any work I have ventured to 
 place before the public, aspired to teach (being myself a 
 learner in all things), at least I have hitherto done my best 
 to deserve the indulgence I have met with, and it would 
 
 T
 
 274 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 pain me if it could be supposed that such indulgence had 
 rendered me presumptuous or careless. 
 
 For many years I have been accustomed to make a 
 memorandum of any thought which might come across me 
 (if pen and paper were at hand), and to mark (and remark) 
 any passage in a book which excited either a sympathetic 
 or an antagonistic feeling. This collection of notes ac- 
 cumulated insensibly from day to day. The volumes on 
 ' Shakespeare's Women,' on ' Sacred and Legendary Art,' 
 and various other productions,.sprang from seed thus lightly 
 and casually sown, which, I hardly know how, grew up and 
 expanded into a regular readable form, with a beginning, a 
 middle, and an end. But what was to be done with the 
 fragments which remained without beginning and without 
 end links of a hidden or a broken chain ? Whether to 
 preserve them or destroy them became a question, and one 
 I could not answer for myself. In allowing a portion of 
 them to go forth to the world in their original form as 
 unconnected fragments, I have been guided by the wishes 
 of others, who deemed it not wholly uninteresting or pro- 
 fitless to trace the path, sometimes devious enough, of an 
 ' inquiring spirit,' even by the little pebbles dropped as 
 vestiges by the wayside. 
 
 A book so supremely egotistical and subjective can do 
 good only in one way. It may, like conversation with a 
 friend, open up sources of sympathy and reflection ; excite 
 no argument, agreement, or disagreement ; and, like every 
 spontaneous utterance of thought out of an earnest mind, 
 suggest far higher and better thoughts than any to be 
 found here, to higher and more productive minds. If I 
 had not the humble hope of such a possible result, instead 
 of sending these memoranda to the printer, I should have 
 thrown them into the fire ; for I lack that creative faculty
 
 LATER LIFE. 275 
 
 which can work up the teachings of heart-sorrow and 
 world-experience into attractive forms of fiction or art. 
 
 The passages from books are not, strictly speaking, 
 selected ; they are not given here on any principle of choice, 
 but simply because by some process of assimilation they 
 became a part of the individual mind. They ' found me,' 
 to borrow Coleridge's expression, ' found me in some depth 
 of my being ; ' I did not ' find tliem! 
 
 For the rest, all those passages which are marked by 
 inverted commas must be regarded as borrowed, though I 
 have not always been able to give my authority. All 
 passages not so marked are, I dare not say, original or new, 
 but at least the unstudied expression of a free discursive 
 mind fruits, not advisedly plucked, but which the vari- 
 able winds have shaken from the tree ; some ripe, some 
 ' harsh and crude.' 
 
 I may make the last paragraph a little more 
 clear by explaining that the ' passages marked by 
 inverted commas,' which are given throughout 
 Part I. of the volume that on ' Ethics and Character' 
 among Mrs. Jameson's own thoughts, were sen- 
 timents expressed at one period or another by the 
 two most intimate friends of her life (than whom no 
 mortals ever were more utterly dissimilar), Ottilie v. 
 Goethe and Lady Byron ; and the paper entitled 
 1 A Revelation of Childhood ' was taken from ' a 
 letter to a friend,' almost certainly Miss Martineau, 
 with whom she had had an interchange of letters 
 referring to this interesting subject, Miss Martineau 
 having communicated in turn to Mrs. Jameson a
 
 276 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 detailed history of her own early recollections in a 
 very similar form to that which has been published 
 in her autobiography. An allegory by Ottilie v. 
 Goethe, and some ' poetical fragments ' of her own, 
 belong to this first part. Part II. is on literature 
 and art, and among her criticisms on books is 
 one written the year of its publication on Thacke- 
 ray's ' English Humourists,' a criticism that many 
 will sympathise with heartily. The book came out 
 in 1854; the illustrations and etchings, graceful and 
 full of delicate feeling, were like the more important 
 portions of her book, all executed by herself. 
 
 I have omitted, I find, to mention that mean- 
 time, in the ' Edinburgh Review' for October 1853, 
 had appeared a notice of Haydon's career and 
 works, to which reference was recently made in the 
 same ' Review' (July 1876) in an article upon the 
 ' Correspondence and Table-talk of Benjamin Hay- 
 don, with a Memoir by his Son ' reference so 
 graceful and so gratifying to Mrs. Jameson's sur- 
 viving friends that I make bold to quote it here : 
 
 About three-and-twenty years ago Mr. Tom Taylor 
 gave to the world an excellent and judicious life of Ben- 
 jamin Haydon, in which he said, with great feeling and a 
 proper degree of reticence, all that could or need be said 
 of that most unfortunate of artists and of men. The bio- 
 graphy was reviewed at the time in these pages by one 
 who combined with a feminine delicacy of appreciation for 
 the artist a vigour of style and power of criticism which
 
 LATER LIFE. 277 
 
 has not often been surpassed in writing on the fine arts. 
 At this distance of time we may so far depart from our 
 almost invariable practice and name the authoress of that 
 paper our accomplished and lamented friend, the late 
 Mrs. Jameson. Should the present publication revive, as 
 it can scarcely fail to do, the interest of a younger genera- 
 tion in the tragic tale of Haydon's sufferings and death, 
 they may be found related with consummate delicacy and 
 judgment in the article to which we now refer, and those 
 who care to look back through so long a series of our 
 ' Review ' will not, we think, be unrewarded. For our- 
 selves, as far as the incidents of Haydon's life are con- 
 cerned, we have nothing more to say. Our opinion of him 
 is unchanged, and we do not presume to think that it 
 could be more ably and gracefully expressed. We could 
 have wished that the story had been left as it was told 
 three-and-twenty years ago. 
 
 Allusion is made to both these publications in 
 the following letter addressed to Miss Sedgwick : 
 
 London, November 14, 1853, 
 
 MY DEAREST CATHERINE, This day, three hours 
 ago, I received your letter, dated October 29. Let no one 
 deny or doubt that there are inward inexplicable pre- 
 sentiments and mysterious sympathies linking us with the 
 absent. During the last fortnight, without any particular 
 cause or reason, I have been thinking of you more than 
 usual, almost constantly. I mean that no day passed 
 without bringing you to my mind. A few days ago, I sat 
 talking of you with Mr. Kenyon. I had intended to have 
 sent you a little packet by your nephew, who made a most 
 agreeable impression on me, and who wrote me a few lines 
 afterwards, which I keep ; they were so youthfully cordial.
 
 278 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 They seemed to breathe of you. I felt you must have 
 spoken kindly of me. I sent you nothing, however, for 
 soon after I was painfully absorbed. My mother, about 
 whom you enquire so kindly, has been and is very ill. 
 They say it is the decline of age, the sinking of all the 
 powers ; hopeless, therefore, in respect to the present, and 
 all that is left is to render the remaining weeks or months 
 as happy, as free from suffering as possible. She keeps 
 her bed, with no intermission of even transient strength ; 
 but is cheerful, gentle, and resigned. Three of my sisters 
 are in constant attendance on her, and I am with her for 
 some hours of every day. This is our present position 
 very like what it was with our poor father, ten years ago, 
 when you were in England. And now for the rest of your 
 questions, so kindly, so frankly expressed. Of my pro- 
 sperity I cannot say much. My books have gained me 
 some reputation perhaps, and, what is better, have given 
 pleasure to such minds as yours. The profit is so small 
 that it is not worth mentioning. The produce of the 
 ' Madonna ' (of which 1,030 copies sold this year) is 49/., 
 which I shall receive at Christmas very encouraging, is it 
 not ? But I go on with my allowance, and my little pen- 
 sion, and scribble, scribble, for love, if not for money. The 
 review of Haydon's life in the ' Edinburgh Review,' though 
 written in much trouble, has turned out successful ; but I 
 do not publicly acknowledge it, because I do not generally 
 like writing in reviews. I have a book going to press, 
 which I believe I shall call ' Thoughts, Memories, and 
 Fancies,' a number of commonplaces which have accumu- 
 lated in MS. ; and as everybody says I had better publish 
 them, I have at last put them together, and, while attend- 
 ing on my mother, the compilation, printing, and illus- 
 'trating furnish me with what the French call a distraction. 
 As to what you say of my cheerfulness and sound mind,
 
 LATER LIFE. 279 
 
 dearest Catherine, let it pass. God is good to us, and 
 enables us to bear much ; but the last year has made my 
 heart grey and wrinkled, though it may have spared my 
 face. There ! now I have told you all that in a letter I 
 can tell you of myself. Are you satisfied ? And now let 
 me thank you for all you tell me of yourself, your dear 
 people, your brother, your Kate, your home, your rooms, 
 your garden, your roses all. There came over me, as I 
 read, a wish to cross again that terrible Atlantic, such as 
 I have not felt before for years. As to the Francesca, my 
 interpretation, when I saw the original picture in Ary 
 Scheffer's room, was different ; the hell to her was his 
 averted face ; the hell to him, remorse surviving love. In 
 this sense there is an infinitude of significance and pathos in 
 her exclamation, ' Come vedi, ancor non m' abbandona ! ' but 
 I don't know that I am right. Yesterday I had luncheon 
 in company with Mrs. Follen and Harriet Martineau. Mrs. 
 Follen looking well, and Harriet fat and portly, and hand- 
 somer than I ever saw her less plain, perhaps, were the 
 more proper word. But she looks so full of radiant and 
 assured self-complacency that I gazed with admiring asto- 
 nishment. Gifted, dauntless woman, who has doubt about 
 nothing, and, as people say, belief in nothing ; but that I 
 don't believe. Her translation of Comte's philosophy is to 
 appear to-morrow. 
 
 Now, dear Catherine, I hope your letter is an earnest 
 that I shall hear again from you, and without such long 
 dreary intervals of silence. I have been reading, that is 
 turning the leaves of Miss Bremer's book, and dwelling on 
 your name. Of the book itself, there is too much of it, 
 and a barrenness of thought, though much good-nature and 
 talent. My love to all your friends who remember me. 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 ANNA.
 
 2 8o ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 To return to the book of ' Thoughts, Memories, 
 and Fancies,' there is a certain fitness in the place 
 occupied by it in this life-history, in its tacit testi- 
 mony to the dear friendship and mutual intercourse 
 preceding the melancholy and deplorable incident 
 which broke one of the chief ties of Mrs. Jameson's 
 later life, and which had occurred some time before its 
 publication. I cannot exactly tell at what date the 
 breach between my aunt and Lady Byron took place, 
 which made so great a difference in the life of one at 
 least of these devoted friends. The fact, which could 
 not remain hidden, was at the time explained to no 
 one nor indeed at any time, by my aunt, except to 
 her younger sister Charlotte, who after a long in- 
 terval confided it to the only sister now surviving, 
 from whom, since this memoir was begun, I have 
 learned the cause of a severance which had been 
 a wonder and a mystery to me for years. The 
 apparent inadequateness of the motive that produced 
 such unfortunate results is bewildering, yet true 
 enough to the unreasonableness of life, in which we 
 continually find a simple misapprehension to lie at 
 the root of the most serious ruptures. It is not a 
 question into which it is necessary to enter in much 
 detail, but I believe the facts of the case were simply 
 these : Mrs. Jameson had become, partially by 
 accident, acquainted with some private particulars 
 affecting a member of Lady Byron's family, which
 
 LATER LIFE. 281 
 
 had not been revealed to Lady Byron herself. 
 When these facts were finally made known at the 
 death of the person chiefly concerned, Lady Byron 
 became aware at the same time of Mrs. Jameson's 
 previous acquaintance with them. We may easily 
 imagine that the sting of finding her friend the 
 actual depositary of a secret which .had been kept 
 from herself, had a great deal to do with the first 
 bitterness of Lady Byron's resentment. It is even 
 possible, I do not know, that my aunt, conscious of 
 no breach of loyalty or faithfulness towards her 
 friend, may have been too proud to enter into minute 
 explanations of how and why it was. Anyhow, the 
 stern temper of the one was roused, and the sensi- 
 tive pride and high spirit of the other outraged and 
 wounded. She in her turn became the one ' im- 
 placable.' I cannot tell exactly when the incident 
 occurred ; but whilst, from all I can gather, the 
 mutual suffering was, for a time at least, not 
 made evident to others, I have too good reason to 
 know that the wound was one from which Mrs. 
 Jameson never recovered. Perhaps the one other 
 person to whom (while silent as to the cause) she 
 expressed herself freely on this painful subject, was 
 the kind and trusted friend to whom already so 
 many references have been made, and from whom 
 I have obtained so much information Major Noel. 
 He had been absent for some time in Ireland, but
 
 282 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 on his return he naturally resumed his old habits 
 and went to see his friend ; she received him 
 ' with much emotion.' Major Noel writes : ' She 
 said that our intimacy must cease, because my 
 first duty was to keep on terms of friendship 
 with Lady Byron/ Afterwards, lest this request 
 should be insufficient, she wrote to the same 
 effect, and almost the same words, ' entreating 
 me/ Major Noel adds, ' never to come near her 
 again, for my first duty was towards Lady Byron, 
 who had broken her heart! These impassioned 
 words show how deep the pain had been. Thus 
 she lost not only the imperious second self who 
 had occupied so large a share of her inmost soul for 
 years past, but from a generous reluctance to embar- 
 rass their personal relations with one more able to 
 be of use to them than herself, she renounced the 
 consolation she might have found in the continuance 
 of her heretofore uninterrupted intercourse with still 
 older and more faithful friends. Mrs. Noel some 
 years later made one effort to break through the 
 prohibition, and wrote an affectionate note full of 
 their desire to hear from her, informing her ' dearest 
 Anna ' of the disembodiment of the militia regiment 
 in which Major Noel served, and the changes conse- 
 quent upon it ; but no answer was ever received, and 
 when her letters were returned to her at Mrs. 
 Jameson's death, this was found as it was sent, the
 
 LATER LIFE. 283 
 
 seal unbroken : the memories of that time of trouble 
 were still felt too bitter to be voluntarily recalled. 
 Mrs. Noel has endorsed the faded note, which is 
 dated Mays, I ^58, with the words, 'This seal I 
 opened myself, September 19, 1877.' The friends, 
 however, I am glad to say, did meet at least once 
 again. When, in 1859, Mrs. Noel was ill in London, 
 Mrs. Jameson, hearing of it, could not resist the 
 longing of the old affection, and went to see her ; 
 but the broken intercourse was never resumed. 
 
 This year of 1854 was one of sorrows. The gentle 
 mother, to whom Mrs. Jameson and her sisters were 
 so fondly attached, died in the midst of her children, 
 after a year of lingering illness, in the early spring ; 
 and in the autumn another event occurred, which, 
 though it is impossible to suppose that it could 
 come upon her as a heavy grief, was yet no doubt 
 a shock to her, and at first appeared likely to com- 
 promise the comfort of her future life : this was the 
 death of Mr. Jameson in Canada. Some time pre- 
 viously he had persuaded his wife to give up to him 
 the legal papers that secured to her her allowance of 
 3OO/. a year, for the purpose, it was explained to 
 her, of enabling him to invest in certain land to be 
 secured to her after his death, and which would prove 
 such renunciation on her part to result in gain to 
 her rather than loss. When, however, his will was 
 examined, it was found that no provision whatever
 
 2 8 4 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 had been made for her, and she was thus suddenly 
 deprived of her income. The whole property was 
 left away from her, and from the members of Mr. 
 Jameson's own family. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson was advised by some persons to 
 dispute the will ; but she accepted the counsels of her 
 valued old friend Bryan Procter, who wrote to her 
 that, unless there was clear ground for her to 
 stand upon, it would be unwise to plunge into law. 
 He thought, moreover, that an assertion by some 
 friend of her moral right to a share of Mr. Jameson's 
 property might induce the legatee to yield some 
 part. 
 
 When the fact that Mrs. Jameson's income from 
 Canada had thus stopped for ever became known, a 
 certain number of her friends, Mrs. Procter being 
 the prime mover of the whole plan, collected among 
 themselves a sum wherewith an annuity of ioo/. was 
 insured to Mrs. Jameson for her lifetime. 
 
 I wish I could repeat with the same graceful and 
 warm-hearted vivacity with which it was told to me 
 the story of the meeting between the two friends at 
 which this entirely unsuspected effort of loving kind- 
 ness was made known to the object of it. Mrs. Proc- 
 ter, who had not shrunk either from the trouble or 
 the responsibility, faltered when the moment came, in 
 natural delicacy and generous alarm, lest the gift thus 
 offered should wound any susceptibility, or mortify the
 
 LATER LIFE. 285 
 
 pride of independence in her friend's high spirit. It 
 is needless, however, to add that Mrs. Jameson was 
 entirely destitute of the petty self-esteem which could 
 be wounded by so noble and generous a gift, made 
 infinitely sweeter by the very tremor of doubt and 
 panic with which the announcement was made. For 
 the first moment neither could tell what the other 
 said, except that the news was conveyed and re- 
 ceived with mutual emotion and sympathy ; and this 
 alarming climax of a long labour of kindness ended 
 in the tears and the kiss of tender friendship and 
 gratitude which happily made words unnecessary. 
 After they had parted, Mrs. Procter received the 
 following note, which she kindly permits me to copy 
 here. 
 
 DEAR FRIEND, After you were gone to-day, I could 
 not help giving way to many feelings. I am glad neither 
 you nor any one could see me. And I am better, and my 
 mind clearer. How kind my friends have been how 
 good, how true ! And what a soft, delightful feeling grati- 
 tude is ! All this time, while I have been tormenting 
 myself with perplexity and anxiety, God and you have 
 been caring for me. Dear friend, how I love you, not 
 only for what you have done, but for the consummate 
 judgment and delicacy with which you have done it ! I 
 am now taken out of that slavery to booksellers and book- 
 makers which I so hated and feared, and my sisters are 
 safe. I had arranged their existence for this next year, 
 but what was to become of them afterwards I could not
 
 286 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 tell. Now there is enough for all. And when I think I 
 owe it to you, it does certainly add to the happy feeling in 
 my mind. So I say no more ; indeed, why should I ? 
 You must say to my other friends what you know is in my 
 heart. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 Mrs. Procter adds that after the annuity had been 
 bought, a sum of about yo/. remained over, which 
 was put into a pretty purse and presented to Mrs. 
 Jameson, who protested, with tears and laughter, 
 that this was the part of her friends' liberality which 
 she enjoyed most thoroughly. 
 
 While, however, accepting in the spirit in which it 
 was given the thoughtful provision thus made for her, 
 Mrs. Jameson regarded in a different light another 
 offer which was made to her soon after. In the 
 month of May following, a friend, desirous of remain- 
 ing unknown, offered to place at Mrs. Jameson's 
 bankers' the sum of 5<D/. a year to her credit, to 
 be drawn in half-yearly payments. This generous 
 proposal, though it came through the same kind 
 hands, Mrs. Jameson declined, with the most grateful 
 acknowledgment, however, of the intention of the 
 giver. Her letter on the subject is so charac- 
 teristic of her clear sense of what could and what 
 could not be accepted by her in the shape of friendly 
 aid, that I quote from the rough draft in her own
 
 LATER LIFE. 287 
 
 handwriting the letter sent in reply to Mrs. Procter's 
 note : 
 
 May 25, 1855. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, How could I be otherwise than 
 both surprised and pleased by your communication ? What ' 
 good people there are in the world, what generous noble 
 hearts ! I am grateful for the proffered kindness, but, dear 
 friend, I cannot, for I think I am sure I ought not to 
 accept it. I accepted the annuity, not only without scruple, 
 but with unmixed pleasure. In the first place it had 
 emanated from you, my old friend, and then so many had 
 joined, spontaneously, zealously so many \ I must have 
 been hardened in pride and misanthropy if I had not been 
 touched with the softest gratitude, and even with a sort of 
 sympathy for the sympathy shown to me. But don't you 
 see, dear, that this of which you tell me is quite another 
 thing ? This generous being, whoever she may be, has 
 cither a turn for benevolence (and then how many there 
 are who more deserve her benevolence than I do), or she 
 has an especial kindness for me personally ; and kindness 
 in this particular form I no longer need. To be reduced 
 to sordid want I did not deserve, perhaps ; well, have I 
 not been lifted in the arms of generous friends above 
 want and the fear of it ? Do I deserve, have I any even the 
 least right to more ? Certainly not. I am provided with a 
 reserve for this journey which is to set me up in health. 
 With my pension and annuity I ought to supply my little 
 home with all the necessaries of life. I cannot, I will not, 
 owe superfluities to a yearly allowance out of the fortune 
 of another. If this 5O/. a year were a gift from the Queen, 
 I would accept with a dutiful courtesy what was tendered 
 as a royal grace ; but from no other being in the world will 
 I accept of it. Say, therefore, that, with every feeling of
 
 288 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 gratitude and respect to my unknown friend, I decline 
 the offer. I cannot be mistaken either in the impulse or 
 the principle which prompts me to do so, for what I felt 
 yesterday I think to-day after sleeping upon it. 
 
 The anxiety and grief connected with the loss of 
 her beloved mother, and the painful circumstances 
 attending the disclosure of her pecuniary position at 
 the death of her husband, all had told upon Mrs. 
 Jameson's health, already considerably undermined. 
 Her desire was to return to Italy, the land of her 
 affections, and her medical advisers strongly coun- 
 selled her to seek there the rest and change that 
 she needed. This visit, however, was not achieved 
 till 1856. In the meantime Mrs. Jameson had made 
 a step into what may be called public life. She had 
 been persuaded to put her thoughts upon the public 
 ministrations of charity, and the office which women 
 might fitly fill in this way, into the form of lectures. 
 The first of these, ' On Sisters of Charity Abroad 
 and at Home,' was delivered in the month of 
 February 1855 ' privately' at the house of Mrs. 
 Reid in York Terrace. It was afterwards printed 
 ' by desire,' and the interest it excited was sufficient 
 to demand a second edition within three months. 
 The first lecture was experimental, and met with 
 such success, that, had Mrs. Jameson's health per- 
 mitted the necessary exertion, she might have been 
 encouraged to give her mind to this branch of public
 
 LATER LIFE. 289 
 
 education. But the effort was too great, and the 
 lectures were neither of them ever attempted before 
 a larger and mixed audience. In her preface to 
 the second edition, Mrs. Jameson dwells on the 
 1 general expression of responsive sympathy, public 
 and private,' being such that ' the hand laid thus 
 timidly and unskilfully upon the chords almost 
 " recoils from the sound itself hath made." ' 
 
 Not less (she writes) have I been touched with pleasure 
 and surprise by the numerous communications which 
 almost every post has brought to me from medical men, 
 from clergymen, from intelligent women, the greater number 
 strangers to me personally, either expressive of cordial 
 sympathy, or conveying practical suggestions, or offering 
 aid and co-operation. All, however various the contents, 
 testifying to the great truths I have endeavoured to illus- 
 trate in these pages ; namely, that there exists at the core 
 of our social condition a great mistake to be corrected, and 
 a great want supplied ; that men and women must learn 
 to understand each other, and work together for the 
 common good, before any amount of permanent moral 
 and religious progress can be effected ; and that, in the 
 most comprehensive sense of the word, we need SISTERS 
 OF CHARITY everywhere. 
 
 In conclusion she says that considerations of 
 health take her away from England for the present, 
 but that on her return she hopes to find kindly and 
 active spirits and wise heads doing the practical 
 work she cannot do herself. 
 
 u
 
 2 90 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 It has been said (she adds) that we need some protest 
 against the tendency of this age to deify mere material 
 power, mere mechanism, mere intellect, and what is called 
 the ' philosophy of the positif? It appears to me that 
 God's good providence is preparing such a counterpoise in 
 the more equal and natural apportioning of the work that 
 is to be done on earth ; in the due mingling of the softer 
 charities and purer moral discipline of the home life with 
 all the material interests of social and political life ; in the 
 better training of the affectionate instincts of the woman's 
 nature, and the application of these to purposes and ob- 
 jects which have hitherto been considered out of their 
 province or beyond their reach ; for what can concern the 
 community at large which does not concern women also ? 
 
 Mrs. Jameson's chief argument was the advisa- 
 bility, or rather the absolute necessity, existing for 
 the thorough co-operation of both sexes in all that 
 relates to social improvement, whether in works of 
 mercy, of education, or of reformation. The second 
 lecture, in which she followed up and completed the 
 argument of the first, and which was entitled the 
 ' Communion of Labour,' was not delivered until the 
 summer of 1856, and in the meantime Mrs. Jameson 
 had accomplished her intended visit to the Continent, 
 devoting her chief attention to an entirely different 
 class of subjects from those which had hitherto been 
 her chief delight and occupation. It is significant of 
 her temporarily altered purpose, that she scarcely set 
 foot in Italy, the goal of her desires, the beloved 
 home of art, at all, penetrating only as far as Pied-
 
 LATER LIFE. 291 
 
 mont ; but, on the other hand, she lingered long in 
 Paris, with which she had formerly declared herself 
 so entirely out of harmony, and spent all the time 
 she had to spare from the claims of her friends, 
 both here and in Germany, in visiting every hos- 
 pital and charitable institution to which she could 
 get admission. These researches were very different 
 from the calm studies once carried on in churches 
 and picture-galleries ; but she took the same con- 
 scientious judgment and spirit of careful examina- 
 tion with her, whatever her object might be. In 
 June 1856, having returned home, she gave her 
 second address on these topics. When this was 
 published, she explained in a preface that it was 
 intended to be ' merely supplementary to the " Lec- 
 ture on Sisters of Charity '' published last year ; as 
 an illustration and expansion, through facts and 
 examples, of the principles there briefly set forth, 
 namely, that a more equal distribution of the work 
 which has to be done, and a more perfect communion 
 of interests in the work which is done, are, in the 
 present state of society, imperatively demanded.' 
 
 This lecture contains details of her manifold 
 experiences in Paris, Vienna, Turin, and Milan, and 
 enters into comparisons, carefully and most con- 
 scientiously drawn up, between such establishments 
 at home and abroad, between pauper nurses and 
 sisters of charity, Catholic and Protestant. The 
 
 U 2
 
 292 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 necessity of good training and regular discipline, of 
 co-operation and brave resistance to prejudice and 
 conventionality, is dwelt upon with that sincere 
 earnestness and hopeful spirit which had distin- 
 guished her from her earliest years. An excellent 
 sketch of Mrs. Jameson's habitual attitude in respect 
 to questions of this kind will be found in the last 
 pages of the volume of ' Vignettes ' published in 
 1866 by Bessie Raynor Parkes, in which there is a 
 short sketch of Mrs. Jameson's career, touched in 
 by a true and tender hand, and bearing testimony 
 to the good service she did for the improvement of 
 the social position of women. The writer was one 
 of the younger members of the circle already re- 
 ferred to, which had gathered round my aunt in 
 Bruton Street, bringing the fervent enthusiasm of 
 philanthropical reformers into her calmer atmosphere 
 of art. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson did not compromise herself by adherence 
 to the views of any particular party ; her age, her high 
 social reputation, her peculiarly balanced mind, kept her, 
 as it were, aloof, and in a sphere apart ; yet she was ever 
 the first to come forward in support of any measure she 
 individually approved. When an effort was made some 
 years ago to pass a Bill through Parliament securing to 
 married women the use of their own earnings, her name 
 was the first attached, of all the many thousands upon the 
 various petitions. Her two lectures on ' Sisters of Charity 
 at Home and Abroad,' and on the ' Communion of
 
 LATER LIFE. 293 
 
 Labour,' were each read in person to a very large drawing- 
 room audience, and contain more sound thought, fearlessly 
 expressed, than anything that has appeared elsewhere on 
 women's life and labour. The earnest eloquence of her 
 ' Letter to Lord John Russell,' prefixed to the last edition 
 of these lectures, should touch many hearts to the quick, 
 now that the hand which penned it is cold in death. She 
 speaks from the calm heights of ' sixty years ' with a force 
 and a power which will echo long amidst us. Where 
 shall we find such another heart one so just, so gentle ; 
 so sympathetic for men, yet so brave for women ; so 
 generous and affectionate for all ? 
 
 The writer of these lines was one who knew 
 and loved Mrs. Jameson well. She was one of 
 those who had felt the value of such aid and sym- 
 pathy as my aunt was always ready to give, in the 
 efforts which she herself had been engaged in, con- 
 jointly with other young women, to open up fresh 
 chances of work and independence to those of their 
 own sex who required to work in order to live. In 
 all these efforts Mrs. Jameson took the kindest, 
 warmest interest, encouraging the workers in their 
 less hopeful moments, advising them in their many 
 difficulties, while they sat like young disciples at her 
 feet, and gave due weight to each word that fell 
 from her lips. Some of these ladies founded a 
 periodical that had some years of existence ' The 
 Englishwoman's Magazine,' of which Miss Parkes 
 was the editor, and to which Adelaide Procter was
 
 294 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 a contributor, Emily Faithfull being the printer, 
 with her female staff. I am not aware that Mrs. 
 Jameson ever contributed any article of her own to 
 these pages, but she was as a tower of strength to 
 the girl- editor and writers, and they held on firmly 
 by the hands she extended to them.
 
 HER J.AST DAYS. 295 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 HER LAST DAYS. 
 
 AFTER this temporary departure from her own che- 
 rished and favourite path, Mrs. Jameson returned 
 once more to her projects of travel and to the art- 
 expositions which were her most characteristic work. 
 During the preceding five or six years, her home 
 had been alternately with her two sisters Eliza and 
 Charlotte at Ealing, or in London with her sister 
 Camilla. Now, before quitting England with every 
 intention of thenceforth passing the greater portion 
 of her time on the Continent, she removed with her 
 sisters, at their express desire, from Ealing to Brigh- 
 ton, a place she herself simply detested, but for 
 which they had a special fancy, and whither they 
 felt now more particularly attracted, from the fact 
 that their sister Camilla had removed thither some 
 few months previously. 
 
 Having thus reconstructed the ' family nest,' as 
 she loved to call it, Mrs. Jameson went to Paris, 
 where she found the Brownings, Mme. Mohl, and
 
 296 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 divers other friends established more or less tem- 
 porarily ; and here she began at once to occupy her- 
 self with the preparation of a second edition of her 
 ' Madonna book.' For this the whole of the larger 
 illustrations required to be redone. In the first 
 edition of this volume, in lieu of attempting, with her 
 failing sight, the etchings on copper that had accom- 
 panied the numerous woodcuts of the first volume 
 of the series (in which I had the privilege of 
 assisting her, being with her at the time), she 
 mentioned in the preface that the drawings for this 
 had been achieved ' by a less tedious, but also less 
 effective process,' and, as it proved, likewise a far 
 less durable one, for the plates could not last out 
 even one more edition, and she had resolved on the 
 transfer of the whole to copper, and concluded on 
 having them executed by me during the months she 
 proposed spending in Rome. 
 
 To this city she came early in the year 1857, and 
 in the ' Vignette' already quoted from, the writer, who 
 also passed that spring in Rome, tells the reader 
 that to see Mrs. Jameson 
 
 kindle into enthusiasm amidst the gorgeous natural beauty, 
 the antique memorials, and the sacred Christian relics of 
 Italy, is a sight which one who witnessed it will never for- 
 get There is not a cypress upon the Roman hills, or a 
 sunny vine overhanging the southern gardens, or a picture 
 in those vast sombre galleries of foreign palaces, or a cata-
 
 HER LAST DAYS. 297 
 
 comb spread out vast and dark under the martyr-churches 
 of the city of the Seven Hills, which is not associated with 
 some vivid flash of her intellect and imagination, and with 
 the dearer recollections of personal kindness. 
 
 She used to say that a picture to her was like a plain 
 writing ; when she looked at it, she seemed to feel in- 
 stantly for what purpose it had been wrought. She loved 
 to fancy the old artist painting it in his studio, and the 
 man who bought it to offer as a votive offering for the 
 health of some one he loved, or in commemoration of 
 some one who was dead. If saints or fathers were intro- 
 duced into the composition, she knew each by his aspect, 
 and why he was in attendance ; and could tell the story of 
 their lives, and what they had done for the faith. The 
 strange mystic symbolism of the early mosaics was a 
 familiar language to her ; she would stand on the polished 
 marble of the Latcran floor, or under the gorgeously 
 sombre tribune of the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore, 
 reading off the quaint emblems, and expounding the pious 
 thoughts of more than a thousand years ago. 
 
 At Rome there is an ancient church hard by the blood- 
 stained amphitheatre of the Coliseum dedicated to St. 
 Clement, the companion of St. Paul (and himself a de- 
 scendant of the Flavia gens). Tradition says he lived 
 there ; at any rate the present building is of the date 
 A.D. 800, and built on the foundation of one much older. 1 
 In this church she delighted, and to it she would take 
 anyone who sympathised with her peculiar feeling for art. 
 Her talk, as she described it, was a running commentaiy 
 on the books she published on kindred subjects. 
 
 1 When Mrs. Jameson left Rome for the last time in 1859, the 
 lower church, with its early specimens of fresco and wonderful sub- 
 terraneans, was still a hidden treasure, the very existence of which 
 was a mere tradition.
 
 298 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 I am glad to be able to take from Miss Parkes 
 even so slight an account of the delight and value 
 of my aunt's companionship and guidance among 
 the treasures of art which she knew so well ; for 
 the subject is one on which I can scarcely trust my- 
 self to speak. The execution of the etchings for the 
 ' Legends of the Madonna,' to which I have already 
 referred, and which she confided to me, brought us 
 once more into something of our old relations, as I 
 again worked under her direction in paths so fami- 
 liar ; yet how great was the difference ! The con- 
 trast between the young inexperienced girl who had 
 filled the same place nearly a dozen years before, 
 and the woman who was now herself a mother and 
 mistress of a family, immersed in all the cares which 
 attend maturing life, struck myself with sufficient 
 force, but must have made a still more painful im- 
 pression of change upon her, the dear and ever in- 
 dulgent director of the work ; too clear- sighted not 
 to see the divided attention which was all I now had 
 to give her ; too loving and sympathising not to 
 forgive, but at the same time too sensitive not to 
 feel the contrast. I cannot myself look back upon 
 this temporary reunion without a keen pang of sym- 
 pathy with her for the change she must have expe- 
 rienced in it, and of admiration for the doubly tender 
 silence which she maintained on the subject, never 
 increasing my semi-remorseful consciousness by any
 
 HER LAST DAYS. 299 
 
 betrayal of her own. The whole series of etchings, 
 about thirty in number if I recollect rightly, were 
 completed during the summer. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson spent that summer, I believe, 
 altogether in Italy, but not in the vicinity of Rome. 
 The month of December found her settled down in 
 Florence. Thence she wrote on December 6, 1857, 
 to Mr. Longman from No. 1902 Via Maggio, what 
 she terms 
 
 merely a letter of business ; for though I have much to 
 say to you, I cannot say it all now, and if you are so 
 much engaged, it will be better deferred for a few days. 
 I dined with Lord Normanby yesterday, who does not 
 look the worse for his long journey, nor for the reviewers 
 who seem to me very ill-natured. I have also just seen 
 the pictures recently purchased here for the National Gal- 
 lery, and am enchanted that we have got them at last. 
 They are all to me old acquaintances, old in every sense, 
 but supplying a great gap in our historic series. 1 
 
 Later in the same month she wrote to Mr. Long- 
 man to say 
 
 I have the review of ' Vasari ' more than half finished, 
 and here at Florence I have been able to add many in- 
 teresting things. ... I do not care to finish this review 
 (which I began two years ago) unless sure of its acceptance 
 and when it would be wanted. 
 
 For some reason or other the review of ' Vasari ' 
 never was concluded or published. For the events 
 
 1 The Rinuccini collection f?).
 
 300 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 of these later years and Mrs. Jameson's own expres- 
 sion of the frame of mind in which they found her 
 for all concerning the outer and inner life 
 the cessation of her correspondence with Major 
 Noel is a misfortune for the compiler of this memoit, 
 for no other series of intimate letters has been found 
 obtainable to complete the story of the last ten years 
 of her active life. 
 
 It was not until her return to Rome in 1859 
 that my aunt ever spoke to me personally wit! 
 reference to the subject, still so exquisitely pain 
 ful to her, of the broken friendship with Lady Byron 
 For my own part, knowing of the fact through other 
 long previously, I had most carefully refrained fro? 
 any allusion to it by word of mouth or letter, thoug 1 - 
 few could more perfectly realise what the recoil mus 
 have been when the spring of that friendship 
 snapped for ever. I could well remember the daily, 
 all but hourly exchange of thought in innumerable 
 letters ; the continual visits, more or less prolonged, 
 to Fordhook, Esher, Brighton, wherever Lady 
 Byron's home might temporarily chance to be. I 
 believe, though I never heard it said, that the reason 
 why Mrs. Jameson ' could not bear Brighton ' was the 
 fact of the many days passed there at intervals with 
 that all-absorbing friend. Even now she did not 
 disclose to me the actual cause ; as I have said, 
 until lately, this remained to me a mystery ; but
 
 HER LAST DAYS. 301 
 
 for the first time she spoke of the matter to me, and 
 told me that the break in this friendship had been 
 to her a mortal blow, one from which she should 
 not recover. She felt her vital power gone, and 
 while she hoped that her strength might endure 
 until she had ' finished her work ' her work that 
 lay so near her heart, on the fruits of which she 
 counted as a source of partial support to the dear 
 ones she was to leave behind her in the world she 
 knew, she said, that for her the end was near at hand. 
 And most surely the failing in health and spirit 
 observable in 1857 was far more evident in 1859. 
 Here in Rome we thought her sadly altered, en- 
 feebled in body, and dispirited in her mind about 
 herself and all her undertakings. But we did not 
 think that never again were we to see her among 
 her favourite haunts in the Rome she loved. In 
 the pleasant apartment occupied by her close by the 
 Tiber fa$ade of the Palazzo Borghese, looking out 
 over the river at the point known as the Porto di 
 Ripetta, Mrs. Jameson found much enjoyment 
 during her stay in Rome ; but the least fatigue ex- 
 hausted her strength, and she rarely passed an 
 evening out of her own rooms. Her friends went 
 to her, old friends and new acquaintances, and she 
 did not lack for visitors when she would admit of 
 such distraction from her steady work : such old 
 friends as Gibson, for instance, a lonely man since
 
 302 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 the death of his brother, the gentle ' Mr. Benjamin/ 
 as Gibson invariably styled him, and Mr. and Mrs. 
 Story and Harriett Hosmer, in whose career my 
 aunt had been keenly interested since the days she 
 was G.ibson's pupil. Charles Hemans, but lately 
 lost to Rome, was also a welcome visitor, and others 
 whom I do not now call to mind. Among the 
 newer acquaintances were the Hawthornes, who 
 spent that winter in Rome. I believe Mr. Haw- 
 thorne in his ' European Diary ' mentions the fact 
 of his having met with Mrs. Jameson ; I am under 
 the impression that he visited galleries and churches 
 with her, but, preferring to maintain intact his own 
 very singular impressions and opinions as to art, an- 
 cient and modern, did not particularly appreciate her 
 elucidations. I have not the ' Diary ' at hand to refer 
 to, but my impression was at the time that sym- 
 pathy in art at least was impossible between them. 
 
 During this winter Mrs. Jameson had com- 
 menced her last work, the volumes that were to 
 complete the sacred art series the * History of Our 
 Lord and of St. John the Baptist.' She continued her 
 labours in Florence, where she passed two months, 
 although ill the greater portion of the time, her one 
 great compensation being the society of her dear 
 friends Mr. and Mrs. Browning, and one or two 
 other persons living in Florence, to whom she was 
 warmly attached. She then went north, and, cross-
 
 HER LAST DA VS. 303 
 
 ing the Alps, once more joined her beloved Ottilie 
 for the last time. She was still with Mme. de 
 Goethe in the month of August in Dresden, or 
 rather at Maxen, some fifteen miles from the Saxon 
 capital, a country house belonging to their mutual 
 friend Mme. Serre. 
 
 The situation is beautiful (she writes to her sister 
 Charlotte), and the scenery very peculiar ; we are near 
 what is called the Saxon Switzerland. The house is at- 
 tached to part of an old ruined castle, and on the other 
 side is a large farm. I see the basse cour from my bed- 
 room windows ; thirty-six cows of different breeds, and 
 other stock in proportion. In the house there is a family 
 of thirteen Italian greyhounds, of three generations, all 
 romping together with a fine cock, which, having taken to 
 them when a chicken, will no longer live among the 
 poultry, but spends his life with the greyhounds ; and to 
 see two or three of the greyhound puppies and this old 
 cock at a game of play is certainly the drollest thing 
 imaginable. I have had a letter from the Lord Chan- 
 cellor, 1 asking me to call on some friends of his at Dresden, 
 which I shall do as soon as I return there. 
 
 On October 8 Mrs. Jameson writes to tell her 
 sisters at Brighton of her arrival in London, ' safe 
 and well after a rapid journey, very tired. At nine 
 on Monday morning I start for Bradford.' 
 
 Thither she went, having purposely hastened her 
 return from the Continent to attend the Social 
 Science meeting to be held in that city, intending 
 
 1 Her old friend in Ireland, the Hon. Maziere Brady.
 
 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 at the same time to pay some visits in the neigh- 
 bourhood. She went first to Fryston Hall, near 
 Pomfret Castle, the residence of Mr. Monckton 
 Milnes, from whom she had received a cordial in- 
 vitation. From this house she wrote to her sisters 
 that she had felt greatly fatigued by the journey 
 down, and had ' kept her room all Saturday.' 
 
 On Sunday I drove over to Haworth, with the clergy- 
 man who was to preach a charity sermon there, and invited 
 me to accompany him. Haworth, you know, was the 
 home of Charlotte Bronte, where she died. We were 
 received by the feeble, desolate old man, her father, and 
 I shall tell you the rest when I see you. I came over 
 to Fryston, this beautiful place of Monckton Milnes, near 
 Pomfret Castle, and have been very much pleased with 
 my visit. Miss Carpenter, Mr. and Mrs. Cowper, Mr. 
 Brookfield, and other interesting people have been here, 
 about eighteen to dinner every day. On Thursday I go 
 to Liverpool, to the Rathbones, and thence I will write 
 again. I shall not be in Brighton probably till next week, 
 perhaps the 26th. If any letters arrive, send them to me, 
 care of William Rathbone, Esq., Greenbank, Liverpool. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson's visit to the Social Science meet- 
 ing is thus recorded by Miss Parkes : 
 
 She attended the Social Science meeting at Bradford 
 in October 1859, an d sat during the whole of one day in 
 the section B, where papers on the employment of-women 
 were being read, and occasionally joined in the discussion 
 which ensued. When Mrs. Jameson spoke, a deep silence 
 fell upon the crowded assembly. It was quite singular to
 
 HER LAST DA VS. 305 
 
 see the intense interest she excited. Her age, and the 
 comparative refinement of her mental powers, had pre- 
 vented her sphere of action from being ' popular ' in the 
 modern sense ; and this, of course, created a stronger desire 
 to see and hear her of whom they knew little personally. 
 Her singularly low and gentle voice fell like a hush upon 
 the crowded room, and every eye bent eagerly upon her, 
 and every ear drank in her thoughtful and weighty 
 words. 
 
 In the next few months, which were the last 
 of her life, she continued the concluding work 
 of her series, the crown of the undertaking, that 
 which was to exhibit the manner in which art had 
 told the history of our Lord. Had it been chosen 
 with purpose and intention, it would have been im- 
 possible to find a more touching or worthy conclu- 
 sion to her own life and labours ; and, as it happens, 
 the portions of her work which she was able to 
 execute were just those which it is most consolatory 
 to think of as having occupied her last thoughts. 
 Late in the year 1859, after the visit to Bradford 
 which I have recorded, and a few subsequent visits 
 to friends in Yorkshire and Lancashire among 
 others to Mrs. Gaskell at Manchester she returned 
 to the home of her sisters in Brighton, which con- 
 tinued her headquarters for the short remainder of 
 her life, though she was constantly in London, 
 where she had lodgings in Conduit Street, and where 
 she spent much time among the art treasures in the 
 
 x
 
 306 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 print room of the British Museum. Thus the 
 last subject of which her mind was full was the most 
 sacred of all subjects. Her surviving sister re- 
 members well how much she spoke of the Divine 
 story upon which she was engaged, and how deeply 
 it touched her feelings. ' She used to express how 
 much her pity was excited by John the Baptist, and 
 her devotional admiration of the Divine excellence 
 of his Master. I have seen her weep as she spoke 
 of it.' Lady Eastlake, in her preface to the un- 
 finished work which she completed and published a 
 few years later, gives us an account of how she 
 found the fragments as they had dropped from the 
 hands of the original writer : 
 
 I found a programme, contained on one sheet of paper, 
 of the titles and sequence of the different parts of the 
 subject ; also a portion of the manuscript in a completed 
 state, though without the indication of a single illustration. 
 For what was still unwritten no materials whatever were 
 left. By her sisters, the Misses Murphy, who have shown 
 the utmost desire to assist me, I was furnished with many 
 note-books and journals. These, however, threw no light 
 on Mrs. Jameson's intentions as regards the treatment of 
 the large portion still unexecuted ; it was evident that she 
 was accustomed to trust to the stores of her rich mind and 
 to her clear memory. ... In the short programme . . . 
 the ideal and devotional subjects . . . were placed first. 
 
 This arrangement Lady Eastlake did not retain ; 
 but it gives us the satisfaction of finding a large
 
 HER LAST DA YS. 307 
 
 part of the more affecting and personal story, 
 beginning with the history of the Innocents and of 
 John the Baptist, with a number of the miracles and 
 parables, and many particulars of the Saviour's life, 
 ' written by her own hand.' 
 
 Before proceeding, as must now be done, to the 
 sad and brief narrative of her death, I cannot re- 
 frain from taking one final extract from what must 
 have been among the .very last of my aunt's writ- 
 ings. It is so entirely like her, so beautiful in 
 expression, so full of the pensive and chastened en- 
 thusiasm of her declining life, that the reader cannot 
 have a better picture of that fine and gentle spirit, 
 by which to remember her. She has been discuss- 
 ing the miracle at the Pool of Bethesda and its 
 treatment in art, and has just expressed her intense 
 admiration of Murillo's grand picture, ' formerly in 
 the Hospital of Charity at Seville, whence it was 
 stolen by Marshal Soult : ' 
 
 I have a vivid recollection of the occasion on which I 
 first beheld this beautiful picture, and something, perhaps, 
 may be allowed for the associations connected with it. 
 I had breakfasted with Mr. Rogers, and, when the other 
 guests had departed, he took me to see it. It was then 
 in a back room in a house on Carlton Terrace, looking out 
 on gardens quite still and bright with summer sunshine. 
 It had been raised only a little from the ground, so that 
 the heads were not much above the eye, only sufficiently 
 so to make one look up, as one would instinctively have 
 
 X 2
 
 3 o8 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 done before that Divine presence. Then, when we had 
 contemplated for a time the beauty of the painting, which 
 really struck me into silence, for the colour seemed to 
 affect us both in the same manner, like tender subdued music 
 from many grand wind-instruments all breathing in har- 
 mony, we sat down opposite to it. He pointed out the 
 rich violet-purple colour of the robe of our Saviour as 
 peculiar to the Spanish school, and contrasted it with the 
 conventional red tunic and blue mantle in the Italian pic- 
 tures. He speculated as to how Raphael would have 
 treated the same subject, and we compared it with the 
 cartoon of the ' Beautiful Gate,' and the crippled beggar in 
 that picture with the poor disabled paralytic man before 
 us ; and we gave the preference to Murillo in point of 
 character and living expression. The porches of Bethesda 
 did not equal the wreathed columns of the gate, called 
 how justly ! the ' Beautiful.' But then how soft, how trans- 
 lucent, the aerial perspective, and how the radiant angel 
 comes floating down ! Goethe used to be provoked when 
 comparisons were made between two characters, or two 
 artists, or two productions of art, the true value of which 
 rested in their individuality and their unlikeness to each 
 other ; but a large portion of the pleasure we derive from 
 art, and from nature too, lies in the faculty of comparison, 
 in the perception of differences and of degrees of qualities, 
 in the appreciation of distinct aims, and of the wondrous 
 variety with which Nature reveals herself to the souls of 
 men. If we were forced to choose between Raphael and 
 Murillo, who was the master of the great and the grace- 
 ful, we must turn to him who created the ' Heliodorus ' and 
 the ' School of Athens ; ' but, luckily for us, we are neither 
 obliged to compare them, nor to choose between them, since 
 God has given us both. Something like this did we say 
 on that summer morning, sitting before that marvellous
 
 HER LAST DA YS. 309 
 
 picture ; and, since then, I cannot bring it before my mind 
 without thinking also of the dear old poet, whose critical 
 taste was at once the most exquisite and least exclusive 
 that I have ever known. 
 
 Let me add that the sight of that picture awakened 
 some thoughts which were perhaps deeper and more 
 mournful than the painter intended. How many of us 
 might well, metaphorically, have laid ourselves down for 
 years by that Pool of Bethesda, and no angel have come 
 down from heaven to trouble it with a divine power, or 
 infuse into its waters a spiritual life ! Or if it were so, yet 
 were we prostrated by our own infirmity, and there was no 
 human sympathy near to help us down into its healing and 
 reviving waters, no aid in man or angel, till Christ comes 
 to say, ' Take up thy bed and walk.' 
 
 This must have been very nearly the last indica- 
 tion of personal feeling she ever wrote, and I cannot 
 but think it very touching to find the life in which 
 there had been so little joy, if so much contentment 
 and courageous exertion, and whose best blessings 
 had always been ' of such stuff as dreams are made 
 of,' thus ' rounded ' before the sleep, with a sigh. 
 
 After Christmas she went to town for the last 
 time, in order ' to keep her engagements ' with 
 printers, &c., and devoted herself to her work. Her 
 notes grew and expanded under her researches, and 
 I believe it to be evident that she intended one 
 more volume in addition, separate from the one she 
 was then preparing. The note-book, similar in form 
 and size, exclusively dedicated to subjects from the
 
 3io ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 Old Testament, and including the Prophets and 
 Sibyls, and what are designated as ' theological 
 cycles,' and forming a fifth part distinct from the 
 four others which were dedicated, one to the ' Saints 
 and Martyrs/ one to the ' Monastic Orders,' and one 
 to the ' Madonnas ' seem to indicate her plan to 
 have remained unchanged of publishing, according to 
 her own original idea, the ' Life of Our Lord and St. 
 John the Baptist.' In taking up Mrs. Jameson's 
 uncompleted labours, Lady Eastlake altered the pro- 
 gramme, preferring to place the subjects chrono- 
 logically according to the plan of ' most systems of 
 Christian art,' and publishing the whole under the 
 one title of the ' History of our Lord.' Whether in 
 point of fact this was the better plan, need not now 
 be discussed. Lady Eastlake was perhaps the one 
 person among Mrs. Jameson's friends to whom such 
 a labour could have been confided, and carefully and 
 conscientiously she achieved her difficult task. 
 
 I cannot find any further record of the course 
 of those quiet and laborious months. Many of the 
 long winter mornings were spent in the British 
 Museum, and my aunt had friends within reach who 
 kept her surrounded with the most affectionate and 
 devoted companionship ; especially those younger 
 friends who were half daughters, half disciples to 
 her, and to whose affection the motherly side of her
 
 HER LAST DAYS. 311 
 
 nature never failed to respond. One morning, how- 
 ever, in the early chills of March, she returned to 
 her lodgings from the Museum in a snow-storm, and 
 caught what she supposed to be only a severe cold. 
 On the loth she wrote, what was probably her last 
 letter, to Miss Parkes, saying that it was uncertain 
 whether she could go out that day, and expressing 
 her wish that her young friend would come to see 
 her in the evening. She did not suppose herself to 
 be seriously ill, for she wound up with the words : 
 ' I hope Adelaide is better, and will be able to fulfil 
 her promise to take me to see the printing-presses.' 
 
 This was on a Saturday, and when Miss Parkes 
 went that evening to see her, she thought Mrs. 
 Jameson very ill indeed, and wished to summon the 
 sisters from Brighton. But Mrs. Jameson opposed 
 this idea, saying she should probably feel better the 
 following day, and did not wish any unnecessary 
 alarm created. Miss Parkes returned next morning 
 with Miss Procter, and the two young friends agreed 
 not to lose a moment in telegraphing to Brighton on 
 their own responsibility. The sisters came up to 
 town as soon as the news reached them, and the at- 
 tendance of the one physician in whom Mrs. Jameson 
 had confidence, a homoeopath, was obtained as soon 
 as possible. Unfortunately he chanced to be absent 
 from London, and did not, I believe, see his patient 
 until Monday evening, when the sharp attack of
 
 312 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 bronchitis had settled down on the lungs, and was 
 gaining ground rapidly. 
 
 ' We had no reason to think she was aware of 
 her danger/ her sister Camilla wrote. But the dis- 
 ease made rapid progress. ' The brain was soon 
 affected.' But it was affected in no painful way, and 
 the ' wanderings ' of her weakness were entirely 
 harmonious with the closing life. ' She talked much 
 of the beautiful drawings or engravings Mr. Panizzi 
 had shown her a few days previous.' These and 
 no less congenial subjects floated about her in that 
 debateable land between life and death, in which 
 she was lying when, one after another, the sisters 
 came, ' stunned with grief and perplexity,' to see the 
 prop of their existence laid low. Impossible to tell 
 all she had been to them their material support, 
 their constant consoler and sympathiser, their pride 
 and distinction. Outside that darkened chamber 
 there was much friendly sympathy and solicitude ; 
 her door ' was besieged ' by anxious friends, ' her 
 table loaded with luxuries and delicacies,' but all in 
 vain. Her doctor was powerless to arrest the pro- 
 gress of the disease. Within a week from the time 
 of her seizure she was at rest from her cares and her 
 labours. 
 
 She had so wished to live until her work was 
 completed. She felt it to be so absolutely necessary, 
 even in a pecuniary light, to achieve this in order
 
 HER LAST DAYS. 313 
 
 to leave the future of her sisters in some measure 
 assured ; that losing her they should not be at once 
 deprived of all means of support. Her annuity and 
 her pension 1 died with her, and any provision she 
 could hope to put together for them, even had her 
 desire been realised, could have been but partially 
 adequate for the support of one, far less of three ; 
 it could not have been more than a mere trifle in 
 amount only a temporary resource. Even this, 
 however, was not to be. Perhaps that long period 
 of unconsciousness that preceded the last hours was 
 well for her perhaps it was well for her that she 
 was thus spared the keen pang of anxiety at the 
 supreme moment spared the sight of the agonised 
 grief of those she loved on earth. 
 
 To us, her far-off dear ones, when the sad 
 tidings came to us of illness and death all in the one 
 startling letter, it seemed scarcely credible that the 
 strong true heart could so suddenly have ceased to 
 throb for us, and that the light of her fine intellect 
 was quenched for ever. 
 
 Mrs. Browning, then in Rome, herself ill and 
 suffering, wrote to me in a few agitated words that 
 
 1 The pension was continued to her two unmarried sisters, Eliza 
 and Charlotte ; but unfortunately lapsed on the death of the latter, 
 though the survivor of the family, Camilla (Mrs. Sherwin), lives at 
 eighty, not rich enough to be indifferent to the loss of the little family 
 revenue which her sister's merits had won. It seems impossible to 
 doubt that the Queen's kind heart would continue the allowance were 
 the circumstances known.
 
 ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 I knew something, perhaps not all, that she felt in 
 ' losing (as far as the loving can lose those whom 
 they love, as far as death brings loss) that great 
 heart, that noble human creature. May God com- 
 fort you, and those who, like you, know what she 
 was that dearest friend ! ' 
 
 She was buried at Kensal Green by the graves 
 of her father and mother.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 i. 
 
 JOHN GIBSON. 
 
 CONTRIBUTED TO THE ' ART JOURNAL* 
 BY MRS. JAMESON. 
 
 IT is difficult to write freely concerning a great living artist ; 
 to speak of what he is, how he became what he is ; and 
 how was formed, trained, built up, that individual mind 
 and being of which his works, in as far as he is ' a good 
 man and true,' are but the visible manifestation ; to show 
 where the perfect thought has been worked out in shape as 
 perfect ; where perchance for humanity is ever fallible 
 the creating hand has fallen short of the divine concep- 
 tion ; and how the heaven-sprung genius, sustained by the 
 strenuous will, battled with the adverse world and over- 
 came it, until step by step the goal was reached towards 
 which his sou! had yearned in boyhood : to speak of all 
 this faithfully belongs to another time and other hands. 
 For the present we must even meet the difficulty as we 
 can ; and who that admires Mr. Gibson would wish the 
 difficulty removed ? To know that he is now living and 
 working among us is a satisfaction which may well com- 
 pensate the writer for the anxiety attending the task, as it 
 will surely reconcile the reader to what must be unavoid- 
 ably meagre and imperfect in the result. 
 
 John Gibson was born at Conway, in the year 1791. 
 His father, a landscape-gardener, had come over from his 
 native place, Llanidan, in the island of Anglesey, to lay 
 
 NOTK. It was the author's original intention to reprint several other 
 papers in this appendix 5 but the intention cannot now be carried out.
 
 316 APPENDIX. 
 
 out the grounds of a gentleman of fortune, and continued 
 to reside at Conway for several years afterwards. In 
 general, wherever there has been a decided talent for the 
 formative arts, that talent has been manifested from 
 earliest infancy ; and as often, we find it recorded that the 
 early talent has been remarked and cherished by some 
 discriminating mother: Gibson is not an exception. He 
 began to draw on his father's slate, and his first production 
 was a row of geese, as he had seen them on the glassy 
 inlet near Conway, so well done that his mother caressed 
 and praised him, and the geese became a standing subject. 
 At last his mother said, ' Now you must not go on re- 
 peating this every day ; draw me a horse.' The child ran 
 out into the fields, watched a horse for some time, came 
 back, and drew it on his slate. His mother's interest in 
 his progress, and her fond praise, decided the taste ; but 
 at Conway there was no one to help or encourage, and he 
 saw nothing in the shape of art but his father's plans for 
 gardens and shrubberies. At this time it seems the family 
 affairs were not prosperous ; and when Gibson was about 
 nine years old his parents removed to Liverpool with the 
 intention of emigrating to America. This plan was never 
 realised ; but the removal to a large town and a better 
 school opened to the young artist some means of improve- 
 ment, of which he, in his childish unconscious way, and 
 unmarked by all, availed himself. 
 
 The first objects that seized upon his attention in 
 Liverpool were the prints in the shop-windows. On his 
 way to and from school, he lingered, spell-bound and 
 enchanted, before these, struck with a new sense of beauty, 
 filled with vain longings to possess to imitate. Hopeless 
 of obtaining what he so admired and coveted, he hit upon 
 a singular plan of study. He would stand for a long time 
 before some particular print, dwelling on a single figure till
 
 APPENDIX. 317 
 
 it was impressed on his memory ; then he would run 
 home quickly and imitate on paper the action or attitude ; 
 then return to the window again and again, and correct 
 and re-correct his drawing till it was completed. This 
 habit of drawing from recollection stimulated his percep- 
 tion and strengthened his memory for form ; and he has 
 been heard to say that the advantages thus oddly obtained 
 were of incalculable importance to him in after life. It 
 was interesting and amusing, too, that even thus early, with 
 the study of art as a taste, grew the practice of art as a 
 profession. He used to dispose of his drawings to the 
 school-boys, and was thus enabled to obtain what the 
 poverty of his parents denied to him, a little pocket-money. 
 One of his school-fellows, having received from his mother 
 a new prayer-book, wished to honour the gift by an 
 ' illustration ' on the blank page. He applied to Gibson. 
 The subject selected from what notion of the fitness of 
 things it would now be difficult to guess was ' Napoleon 
 crossing the Alps," from the print after David's picture, 
 which they had seen in a shop-window. The drawing was 
 made ; the boy gladly paid sixpence for it, and stuck it as 
 a frontispiece in his prayer-book. 
 
 At the age of fourteen Gibson had to choose his pro- 
 fession. He begged hard to be articled to a painter. The 
 large premium required rendered this impossible, and he 
 was apprenticed to a cabinet-maker. Unable to conquer 
 his disgust for this merely mechanical trade, but willing to 
 work, he induced his master to cancel his indentures, and 
 to bind him over again as a wood-carver. He worked for 
 two years at this employment, carving scrolls and orna- 
 ments for furniture. When he was about sixteen he 
 visited, with a young companion, the marble works of 
 Messrs. Francis. Here, though the works produced were 
 merely ornamental chimneypieces, urns, sepulchral monu- 
 ments, and the like, yet the elegance of some of the objects,
 
 318 APPENDIX. 
 
 which were copies from good models, the lustre and beauty 
 of the white marble, struck poor Gibson with surprise and 
 enchantment, and he returned home with a new ambition 
 wakened in his soul. What he had seen darkened his day 
 with melancholy haunted his dreams by night His 
 masters had hitherto regarded him as their best and most 
 promising apprentice ; he had been treated with unusual 
 kindness ; his conduct had been uniformly steady and re- 
 spectful. Conceive, then, the astonishment of the good 
 cabinet-makers, when the gifted but wilful boy threw down 
 his tools, and declared that ' he woyld be a sculptor that 
 he never would work for them more.' ' Not work ? we will 
 have you up before the magistrate ; and you will serve 
 the rest of your time in gaol.' He remained immoveable. 
 ' They have been most kind to me,' said Gibson once in 
 relating his part in the transaction, and speaking with deep 
 and simple-hearted feeling, ' and I was, as I think now, 
 horridly ungrateful ; but there was something working too 
 strong for me or anyone to control : I felt it must be there 
 was no help for it ! ' In this dilemma Mr. Francis, of the 
 marble works, generously interfered, purchased the re- 
 mainder of his time, for which the sum of 7o/. was paid to 
 the cabinet-makers, and, the former indentures being can- 
 celled, Gibson was bound apprentice for the third time a 
 rare circumstance ; but now how gladly, how gratefully, 
 did he exchange masters ! He was the happiest of the 
 happy ; up at early dawn, incessantly at work ; designing, 
 carving, modelling. His new employers soon found they 
 had made an advantageous bargain. They were able in a 
 short time to dispense with their foreman, who afterwards 
 went to London and became head-workman to Chantrey. 
 But the young apprentice was destined for better things. 
 He was beginning to feel that the workshop of the Messrs. 
 Francis could afford him no more instruction ; aspirations 
 for something higher and better dawned upon his mind ;
 
 APPENDIX. 319 
 
 but whither was he to go ? where and how seek their ful- 
 filment ? This was the turning-point in his life. He wanted 
 a friend, and Providence sent him that friend in the person 
 of the late Mr. Roscoe, then rich and prosperous, a suc- 
 cessful author, a patron of art, and regarded by his towns- 
 people, with just pride and reverence, as one who had 
 achieved an European celebrity. 
 
 Mr. Roscoe called one day at the marble-works to 
 order a chimneypiece for his library. Mr. Francis seized 
 the opportunity to introduce young Gibson, and Roscoe, 
 after looking at his designs and models, invited him to 
 Allerton Hall. This first invitation was followed by many 
 others ; a new world seemed to open upon him. The kind 
 and accomplished old man not only placed before him a 
 fine collection of prints and drawings after the old masters, 
 but lent him some of the most valuable among them to 
 copy. At Allerton Hall he was introduced to Mrs. Law- 
 rence, who became his generous and enthusiastic patroness. 
 She presented him to her brother, General d'Aguilar, and 
 her sister Mrs. Robinson. The latter, a beautiful and accom- 
 plished woman, with a genuine taste for poetry and art, 
 appears to have exercised at this time a most beneficial 
 influence over Gibson's opening mind and powers. Of 
 what unspeakable importance to a young man of genius 
 is early intercourse with pure, high-minded, intellectual, 
 women, those can tell who know not only all the good it 
 can bestow, but all the evil from which it can preserve ; 
 and know, too, how early respect for womanhood tends to 
 purify and elevate those impulses which must live through 
 the works of the brain and hand, and are to the talent 
 what the forge is to the metal. 
 
 Mr. Roscoe had intended to send Gibson to Rome at 
 his own expense. The misfortunes which fell upon him in 
 his later years frustrated this plan ; but his generous in- 
 terest and his correct judgment were of the greatest use to
 
 3 2o APPENDIX. 
 
 the young sculptor for Gibson had now decidedly taken 
 up the profession. He was about eighteen when he com- 
 menced the cartoon of the ' Falling Angels,' which is now 
 preserved in the Liverpool Institution. He had learned 
 from Mr. Roscoe the method pursued by Michael Angelo, 
 Correggio, and others of the great Italian masters, when 
 designing the cartoons for their large compositions ; he 
 modelled small figures in clay, and suspending them by a 
 thread and throwing the light upon them in the required 
 direction, he w.>s thus enabled to foreshorten them with per- 
 fect accuracy and relief. At this time he executed another 
 cartoon, the subject from Dante ; this cartoon is in the pos- 
 session of Mr. Meyer, of Liverpool. Gibson saw it lately 
 after the lapse of eight-and-twenty years ; as it has fre- 
 quently happened under similar circumstances, he was 
 surprised by the energy and power displayed in this early 
 production. ' He felt,' to quote his own words, ' depressed 
 and mortified rather than excited, and asked himself 
 whether he could do much better now.' There is scarcely 
 an artist of eminence, who, on looking back to his early 
 attempts, has not experienced the same disappointment, 
 and felt inclined to ask himself the same question per- 
 haps because the progress afterwards made is less in 
 power than in the art of using power. These first pro- 
 ductions of Gibson's creative imagination showed the im- 
 pression made upon his fancy by the works of Michael 
 Angelo ; but at this critical time he was saved from be- 
 coming a mannerist and imitator, from falling perhaps into 
 an exaggerated or vitiated style, by the excellent advice of 
 his friend Mr. Roscoe. ' No one,' said Roscoe, ' admires 
 Michael Angelo more than I do ; but you are to be a 
 sculptor, not a painter. You must not imitate Michael 
 Angelo. Take for your guide Greek art ; there all is 
 beauty, dignity, and repose.' 
 
 We have seen two little casts from models executed by
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 321 
 
 Gibson, for the centres of chimneypieces, when he was 
 yet in the workshop of the Messrs. Francis ; one repre- 
 sents a little Cupid in bas-relief, the other a recumbent 
 Psyche. So early had this lovely Greek fable seized on 
 his imagination ! And when he set aside Michael Angelo 
 as a model, and turned, as his friend Roscoe had advised, 
 to the divine tranquillity of Greek art, Cupid and Psyche 
 came back to haunt him, and appear to have haunted him 
 ever since. 
 
 Those were happy days at Allerton Hall ; still at every 
 step achieved there was a beyond beyond, and now the 
 longing and the hope to reach Rome took possession of 
 Gibson's ardent mind. His friends, Mr. Roscoe and Mrs. 
 Lawrence, consulted together ; induced by them, some 
 munificent gentlemen of Liverpool entered into a subscrip- 
 tion to send the young sculptor to Rome, and maintain 
 him there for two years. Furnished with a sum of money 
 sufficient for his modest wants, and a letter of introduction 
 to Canova from his friend General d'Aguilar, he started 
 from Liverpool in the summer of the year 1817. 
 
 In passing through London Gibson was introduced to 
 Lord Brougham, and to Mr. Watson Taylor, a well-known 
 patron of art ; the former gave him a letter to Canova, 
 the latter gave him some commissions (busts of himself 
 and his family), the payment for which added to the slender 
 funds of the traveller. He made the acquaintance of 
 Flaxman, who looked over his designs and drawings, and 
 encouraged him with kindly earnest praise. Flaxman 
 considered a journey to Rome absolutely necessary to the 
 education of a sculptor. Chantrey, on the other hand, con- 
 sidered it so much time lost ; and some temptations were 
 held out to Gibson to induce him to settle in London, 
 where one of his kind patrons promised to ' push ' him. 
 Apparently Gibson had no desire to be ' pushed,' but a true 
 and passionate desire to distinguish himself in the poetical 
 
 Y
 
 322 APPENDIX. 
 
 department of his art ; and happily, as we must think, 
 the advice of Flaxman and his own nobler ambition pre- 
 vailed. He continued his journey, and arrived in Rome 
 in the month of October in the same year. 
 
 He presented himself before Canova with his letters 
 and his roll of drawings in his hand, and with such anxiety 
 and trepidation in his heart as took away all courage and 
 self-possession. But Canova was a good judge of character 
 as well as of talent ; his reception was more than kind. 
 General d'Aguilar in his letter had requested that Canova 
 would point out the most economical plan of study, the 
 circumstances of his young friend being very limited. On 
 their next interview-Canova welcomed him with even more 
 cordiality, and spoke to him openly and with apparent 
 interest of his views, and his means of carrying them out. 
 
 ' I have been thinking much about you,' said he kindly ; 
 * with steady industry you will become a great artist. I 
 know that many young men of great merit come to Rome 
 to pursue their studies, with very little money in their 
 purse ; now, the want of means must be no obstacle to 
 your progress. I am rich ; you must allow me to pay all 
 the expenses of your sojourn here, till your own talent and 
 industry have rendered you, as they certainly will render 
 you in time, independent of everybody.' 
 
 Gibson, with strong expressions of gratitude, declined 
 this offer ; ' he had enough,' he said, ' to maintain him, with 
 that strict economy which he intended to practise, for 
 more than two years.' 
 
 ' Well,' replied Canova with a smile (he was not accus- 
 tomed, perhaps, to have such offers refused), 'well, it shall 
 be as you please ; if you work hard, and make progress, I 
 will introduce you to some of your countrymen. We shall 
 see.' 
 
 The generous sculptor kept his word. Perhaps he 
 remembered that when he arrived at Rome, a friendless.
 
 APPENDIX. 323 
 
 youth, his first patron had been an Englishman. He placed 
 Gibson in his studio, and gave him the privilege of attend- 
 ing his night academy, where the students were the most 
 select in Rome, and were exercised in modelling from life. 
 Canova attended himself as director twice a week, and 
 Gibson never missed a single night for three years. 
 ' Then,' said he, in a letter we are allowed to quote, ' then 
 for the first time in my life I received such instruction as 
 I really needed, and learned the practice and the laws 
 which govern sculpture. The compositions I had executed 
 in Liverpool were the productions of a vivid imagination 
 which knew no bounds. All the designs I made at this 
 time were to be within those rules which marble demanded. 
 It was then I found how limited sculpture is.' 
 
 On leaving Canova's studio, he set up for himself in the 
 Via della Fontanella. There the writer of this memoir 
 found him at work in the year 1821 on his beautiful group 
 of ' Psyche borne by the Zephyrs.' In the self-same studio 
 he was found twenty-six years afterwards, modelling the 
 exquisite bas-relief of the ' Hours leading forth the Horses 
 of the Sun.' There was something inexpressibly touching, 
 and elevating too, in this sense of progress without change ; 
 all appeared the same in that modest, quiet little room, 
 but around it extended lofty and ample ateliers crowded 
 with models of works, already executed or in progress, and 
 with workmen, assistants, students, visitors. The sculptor 
 himself perhaps a little sobered by years, but unspoiled 
 by praise and prosperity, pleased with his success, and 
 still aspiring, with no alloy of mean aims or personal vanity 
 mingling with the intense appreciation of fame appeared, 
 and was, the same benign, simple-minded, and simple- 
 hearted enthusiast in his art, as when he stood before 
 Roscoe, an unknown youth, 
 
 And felt that he was greater than he knew. 
 Y 2
 
 3 2 4 APPENDIX. 
 
 But little now remains to be told. One day, when model- 
 ling his group of ' Mars and Cupid,' a tall young man 
 entered his studio. 'Are you Mr. Gibson?' 'Yes, sir.' 
 The stranger modestly announced himself, ' the Duke of 
 Devonshire.' ' Canova has sent me to see what you are 
 modelling.' The Duke looked and admired ; and, not 
 content with admiring, ordered the group in marble. It 
 is now at Chatsworth. This was the first commission 
 Gibson received at Rome ; and the Duke may now recol- 
 lect with pleasure that he made a happy man that day. 
 The group of ' Psyche and the Zephyrs ' was first executed 
 in marble for Sir George Beaumont, and has since been 
 repeated for the Hereditary Grand Duke of Russia and 
 Prince Torlonia. 
 
 Among the drawings he showed to Canova, there was 
 a sketch of the meeting of ' Hero and Leander,' made for 
 his kind and generous patroness, Mrs. Robinson. Canova, 
 struck by the grace and passionate feeling of this sketch, 
 desired him to model it in bas-relief. The Duke of 
 Devonshire ordered this also in marble, and it now adorns 
 Chatsworth. 
 
 After the death of his ' noble master,' for so he de- 
 lighted to style Canova, Gibson placed himself under the 
 direction of Thorwaldsen ; and, aided by the instructions 
 of this admirable artist, and by his own manly and moral 
 sense, he has shown that he could emulate the grace and 
 elegance, without being led into the faults, of his first in- 
 structor. Quick to observe and to appreciate nature, 
 he chooses his models well. A casual action or expression 
 caught in passing through the streets of Rome has sug- 
 gested some of his happiest conceptions ; l while, through 
 
 1 We have heard Gibson mention his ' Wounded Amazon falling 
 from her Horse,' the group in bas-relief of 'Jocasta parting her 
 Angry Sons,' the ' Nymph dancing the Cupid on her Foot,' as in- 
 stances oT natural action casually observed, and afterwards adapted to 
 the most poetical purposes.
 
 APPENDIX. 325 
 
 a genuine poetical sympathy with all manifestations of 
 feeling and power, he imparts to the purest lines of form 
 a degree of character and purpose which is usually thought 
 to interfere with abstract beauty. Though this is a case in 
 which certain comparisons are odious, and Gibson himself 
 would not willingly accept a compliment at the expense of 
 his 'noble master,' yet we must be allowed to illustrate 
 our position by an example. Of the ideal heads which 
 Canova sent out by dozens from his studio, under the 
 names of Beatrice, Laura, Psyche, Urania, Vestal Virgins, 
 and so forth, who could distinguish one from another ? If 
 we asked which is Laura ? which is Beatrice ? we almost 
 expected the showman's answer, ' Which you please, sir, 
 which you please ! ' It has been said in excuse for Canova's 
 vapid heads, with their perpetual straight noses, short 
 upper lips, and sensual mouths, that Greek art did not aim, 
 ought not to aim, at characteristic physiognomy. 
 
 One day, on entering Gibson's studio, there was a bust 
 recently finished standing on its pedestal. ' Helen of 
 Troy,' we exclaimed, and it was Helen. .The first glance 
 brought her to mind with all her fatal loveliness, and with 
 a look as though she felt and knew how fatal. Again, we 
 remember two heads of ' Cupid and Psyche,' now in the 
 possession of Mrs. Huskisson, perfect in truth of individual 
 expression, combined with exquisite beauty. The divine 
 ardent boy, the tender innocent girl, not yet translated to 
 the heaven she bought so dearly, are rendered with the 
 utmost delicacy of feeling, and nothing can exceed the 
 finish of the marble, particularly in the ' Psyche.' 
 
 We have not space to give a catalogue of the works 
 with which Gibson has enriched the palaces of his native 
 land, and more particularly of his native place, if we may 
 so call Liverpool, which insists on claiming him for her 
 own ; but we may mention a few of the most striking and 
 important. In poetic art, one of the most beautiful to
 
 3 z6 '.. APPENDIX. 
 
 our thought the most beautiful of all his creations, is 
 the Cupi^ standing with a butterfly on his hand, and in 
 the act of drawing an arrow wherewith to transfix it. This 
 statue was executed for Lord Selsey, and duplicates are 
 in the possession of Mr. Richard Yates, of Liverpool, and 
 Mr. Holford. The ' Cupid disguised as a Shepherd Boy,' 
 less ideal as a conception, but exquisite for its graceful 
 archness and simplicity, has been more popular. It was 
 executed for the Hereditary Grand Duke of Russia, and 
 the artist has had to repeat it at least seven times ; we 
 recollect to have seen it in the mansion of Sir Robert Peel, 
 and in that of Mr. Appleton, of Boston. 
 
 The ' Hebe ' winged, and bearing her two ewers, has 
 the chaste loveliness becoming the goddess, 'Jove's daugh- 
 ter,' as well as his cup-bearer ; we believe, but are not 
 sure, that this statue belongs to Mr. Henry Sandbach, of 
 Liverpool, who possesses also the ' Greek Hunter' and the 
 ' Aurora." ' The Sleeping Shepherd,' which would be a 
 beautiful companion for Thorwaldsen's ' Piping Shepherd,' 
 was executed for Lord George Cavendish, and repeated 
 for the present Duke of Northumberland. The ' Sappho,' 
 standing forsaken, her head declined, her lyre unstrung 
 and drooping from her hand, is in the possession of Mr. 
 Ellams, of Liverpool. The ' Proserpina,' gathering flowers 
 at the moment she is surprised by the ' gloomy Dis,' was 
 executed for Dwarkanath Tagore, of Calcutta. 
 
 Of his bas-reliefs, perhaps the compositions more re- 
 markable for true antique spirit are the ' Amalthea feeding 
 the Infant Jupiter,' in the possession of the Earl of Carlisle ; 
 and ' Hebe pouring out Nectar for Psyche ' (we know not 
 where the marble is) ; for melancholy grace the ' Wounded 
 Amazon leading her Horse,' now in the possession of Mrs. 
 Huskisson ; and for flowing animated grace of motion, 
 really like music to the eye, ' The Hours leading forth the 
 Horses of the Sun,' lately executed for Lord Fitzwilliam,
 
 APPENDIX, 327 
 
 and which we may hope to see in this year's Exhi- 
 bition. 
 
 Among his portrait statues, the precedence must be 
 given to that of her Majesty, of which an engraving is 
 here introduced. 1 When Gibson visited England in 1844, 
 for the first time after an absence of twenty-eight years, the 
 Queen sent for him, and commanded a statue of herself, 
 intimating at the same time a desire that the ' statue should 
 be a faithful portrait, such as her children should recognise, 
 and calculated for a room in the palace, not for any public 
 institution." All the rest, and the manner of carrying out 
 her wishes, the Queen with excellent sense and taste left 
 to the sculptor, as best understanding the capabilities of 
 his own art. The engraving will give an idea of the pose, 
 which has a gentle yet noble tranquillity, free from all 
 manner or assumption. The head and bust were modelled 
 from life, and also the beautiful hand and arm, extended 
 with the wreath the civic crown. The drapery is, of 
 course, ideal, and admirably managed. The tassels of the 
 mantle are acorns ; and the rose, thistle, and shamrock 
 are happily combined with a classical ornament at the 
 corners. To bring the pale cold marble into harmony with 
 'the interior decoration of a palace sumptuous with gold 
 and colour, the artist tried the effect of a slight and very 
 delicate tint (pale rose and pale azure) carried round the 
 edge of the drapery, the wreath and the bracelet being 
 
 1 Mr. Gibson has favoured us with the following remarks respecting 
 his statue of the Queen. ' After an absence of twenty-eight years, I 
 visited England in the summer of 1844. During my stay in London, 
 I had the honour of receiving a notice to attend at Windsor by com- 
 mand of Her Majesty the Queen. His Royal Highness Prince Albert 
 received me most graciously, and made known to me that the Queen 
 wished to have her statue executed by me. The bust was modelled at 
 Windsor, and her Majesty sat every day for ten days. The statue 
 was executed at Rome,' and exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1847. 
 A duplicate of the work is now in progress for the Queen.
 
 328 APPENDIX. 
 
 also tinted with gold colour, not* gilt. This experiment 
 could not be called an innovation, for everyone knows that 
 the Greeks occasionally coloured their statues. Yet at 
 first there was a feeling of doubt and apprehension, a dif- 
 ference of opinion with regard to the propriety of making 
 the trial at all. It was argued that if once the introduction 
 of colour was allowed in sculpture, it could only be under 
 the guidance of the purest and most refined taste ; that 
 the least excess, the least mistake in the application, must 
 be fatal ; and this is true. However^ the question of colour 
 in Greek art is one which involves such deep considerations 
 of climate, light, subject, situation, style, &c., that we cannot 
 enter upon it at present ; and in this particular instance 
 the objection is set at rest by the admitted success of the 
 experiment, the effect being in the highest degree elegant 
 to the taste and satisfactory to the eye ; while to those who 
 have deeply studied the various styles of Grecian art it 
 gives pleasure, as an illustration of the principles on which 
 they worked. This statue is now placed in a vestibule at. 
 the top of the grand staircase in Buckingham Palace. A 
 second statue of Her Majesty, somewhat different in pose 
 and arrangement, has been executed by Gibson for the 
 new House of Lords, destined, it is said, for the Princes' 
 Chamber. 
 
 The statue of Mr. Huskisson, the great and lamented 
 statesman, was executed some years before that of the 
 Queen, and was, we believe, the first portrait statue under- 
 taken by Mr. Gibson. It was a commission from the 
 gentlemen appointed to carry out the object of a subscrip- 
 tion entered into by the merchants of Liverpool and hun- 
 dreds of other persons of all classes and in every part of 
 England, for the purpose of erecting a memorial of their 
 respect and admiration of the dead in the open cemetery 
 where he is buried. A small Greek temple is placed over 
 the spot, and within it the statue of the patriot and states-
 
 APPENDIX. 329 
 
 man. He stands holding a roll of paper in both hands ; 
 a grand, simple, placid figure, well suited to its destination 
 as a votive rather than a monumental statue. Some years 
 afterwards, the subscribers to the statue wished to remove 
 it from a situation difficult of access, where few of the 
 townsmen, and yet fewer strangers, had an opportunity of 
 seeing it, and to place it under the central dome of the 
 new Custom House, then in course of erection. The wish 
 was natural enough. The situation was most appropriate 
 for a memorial of the man whose large heart and enlight- 
 ened mind had conceived and promulgated a new order of 
 things in the commercial relations of the civilised world. 
 The subscribers had no doubt a right to do their pleasure ; 
 but it was also natural that the idea of this removal this 
 disturbance of a consecrated spot should be most painful 
 and repulsive to the hearts of some who survived him. 
 It was a dilemma involving some feelings still too keen 
 and far too sacred to be touched upon- here. Finally, the 
 widow of Mr. Huskisson offered to present another statue 
 to the town, on condition that the monumental statue should 
 remain undisturbed, and her offer was accepted. To 
 Gibson, who had so well succeeded in the first statue, this 
 second commission was given. He changed, and, as far as 
 purpose is concerned, he improved, the leading idea. The 
 patriot and orator stands as in deep thought, the head a 
 little inclined, one arm slightly raised, as if about to lay 
 down a proposition or enforce an argument. When this 
 statue was completed, it was found that a change in the 
 architectural arrangement of the building rendered it im- 
 possible to place it in the situation for which it was origin- 
 ally intended, and for which the artistic conception had 
 been expressly adopted. Mrs. Huskisson therefore with- 
 drew the marble statue and replaced it by a duplicate made 
 in bronze, the first of Gibson's works which had been exe- 
 cuted in that material ; and it now stands in the open
 
 330 APPENDIX, 
 
 square in front of the new Custom House ; it was in- 
 augurated on October 15, 1847, in the presence of Sir 
 Robert Peel, and at the public dinner afterwards given the 
 health of Gibson was given by Sir Robert, and drunk with 
 acclamation. The marble was presented by Mrs. Huskisson 
 to the London Royal Exchange, and it now stands in the 
 great room at Lloyd's. 
 
 Another portrait statue of exceeding elegance is that 
 of Mrs. Murray, executed at Rome for her mother, the 
 Baroness Braye; it was exhibited here in 1846. 
 
 We have not space to enumerate his monumental bas- 
 reliefs, chiefly executed for his Liverpool friends. One of 
 the most beautiful and expressive is the ' Angel of Hope/ 
 a tablet executed for Mrs. Henry Sandbach, of Liverpool 
 (the subject we believe suggested by herself), for the monu- 
 ment of this lady's mother. The tablet, nearly life size, 
 to the memory of the late Lady Leicester, who died in child- 
 birth, is also of consummate beauty ; an angel conducts 
 the mother and her child to heaven, and the mother appears 
 to follow her child, as it lies in the arms of the angel. 
 
 ' If you will not restore it, take me also ! ' is the senti- 
 ment conveyed. 
 
 It has been to Gibson a source of most painful regret, 
 that his absence from England prevented him from solicit- 
 ing in time the privilege of doing honour to the memory 
 of his revered and generous friend Roscoe. The commis- 
 sion for the monument had already been given to Chantrey. 
 
 We cannot better conclude this brief memoir than by 
 quoting a few sentences from the dedication to Gibson 
 which Sir Lytton Bulwer has prefixed to the last edition 
 of his ' Zanoni,' the true, eloquent, noble-hearted homage 
 of one man of genius to another of the poet to the artist. 
 After premising that in the circle of great living English- 
 men ' he knew no one to whom his work could be more 
 fitly dedicated,' he thus proceeds:
 
 APPENDIX. 331 
 
 ' Apart from our turbulent cabals from the ignoble 
 jealousy and the sordid strife, which degrade and acerbate 
 the ambition of genius in your Roman home you have 
 lived amidst all that is loveliest and least perishable in the 
 past, and contributed with the noblest aims and in the 
 purest spirit to the mighty heirlooms of the future. Your 
 youth has been consecrated to toil, that your manhood may 
 be devoted to fame, a fame unsullied by one desire of gold. 
 You have escaped the two worst perils that beset the artist 
 in our time and land the debasing tendencies of com- 
 merce, and the angry rivalries of competition. You have 
 not wrought your marble for the market ; you have not 
 been tempted by the praises which our vicious criticism 
 has showered upon exaggeration and distortion, to lower 
 your taste to the level of the hour ; you have lived and 
 you have laboured as if you had no rivals but in the dead, 
 no purchasers save in judges of what is best. In the 
 divine priesthood of the beautiful, you have sought only to 
 increase her worshippers and enrich her temples. Each 
 work of yours rightly studied is in itself a criticism, illus- 
 trating the sublime secrets of the Grecian art, which, with- 
 out the servility of plagiarism, you have contributed to 
 revive amongst us. In you we behold its three great and 
 long undetected principles simplicity, calm, and concen- 
 tration. But your admiration of the Greeks has not led 
 you to the bigotry of the mere antiquarian, nor made you 
 less sensible of the unappreciated excellence of the mighty 
 modern, worthy to be your countryman, though, till his 
 statue is in the streets of our capital, we show ourselves 
 not worthy of the glory he has shed upon our land. You 
 have not suffered even your gratitude to Canova to blind 
 you to the superiority of Flaxman. When we become 
 sensible of our title-deeds to renown in that single name, 
 we may look for an English public capable of real patron- 
 age to English art and not till then.'
 
 332 APPENDIX. 
 
 II. SOME THOUGHTS ON ART, 
 
 ADDRESSED TO THE UNINITIATED. 1 
 BY MRS. JAMESON. 
 
 A series of very beautiful engravings from the finest 
 works of modern, and particularly of English sculptors, is 
 to appear successively in this journal, and I have been 
 requested to say something ' germane to the matter ' 
 something of the present state of sculpture with reference 
 to art generally. 
 
 I wish I could do this worthily ; I wish I could ven- 
 ture to place myself between the public and the artist, as 
 a sort of interpreter in an humble way, not to discuss criti- 
 cally the beauties of the art or the merits of the artist 
 easy work comparatively but rather to point out and to 
 explain some of those common-place difficulties and popu- 
 lar mistakes which seem likely to arise in the present state 
 of things. For the patrons of art are not now, like the 
 dilettanti and cognoscenti of the last century, to be counted 
 as the select few; they are the many the million; 
 we are to have art, it seems, for the million. Now it is 
 certain that this diffusion, through all ranks, of the love of 
 ornament and beauty will not raise the standard of excel- 
 ence that was fixed some two thousand years ago in the 
 days of Phidias but it will raise the standard in every 
 individual mind ; it will bring home and illustrate to the 
 popular apprehension, those principles, eternal and immu- 
 
 1 From the Art Journal^ March i, 1849.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 333 
 
 table as the law of Nature herself, on which that eternal 
 standard is founded. I am not one of those who believe 
 that excellence will become less excellent by being dif- 
 fused, or that the sense of the true, the beautiful, the pure, 
 will become less valuable by being rendered more familiar 
 indispensable to the sentient being as love, light, and air. 
 All human sympathies flowing in a right direction and in 
 art, as in morals, there is a right and a wrong gather 
 strength as they flow by the confluence of many minds. 
 It is some comfort that we do not see in these days at least 
 we do not so often see that pretension to the exclusive 
 right to feel and discriminate, that mingled scorn and de- 
 spair with which the real lover and judge of art was wont 
 to regard the ignorant blunderings of public patronage ; 
 and on the other hand, I think we have outlived that truly 
 vulgar error, so flattering to indolent mediocrity, that ' in 
 matters of art, every man with two good eyes in his head 
 is competent to see ; ' whereas, where art is concerned, the 
 faculty of seeing becomes in itself an art ! Yes, it is a 
 good sign when the worshipful many are beginning to feel 
 that the fine arts are not merely imitative, but involve some- 
 thing more, and far beyond imitation ; it is a good sign 
 when a man is no longer affronted by a doubt of his power, 
 and even of his right of judgment, and has candour enough 
 to wish to educate his perceptions up to that point where 
 the just appreciation of comparative excellence first unfolds 
 itself to the delighted intellect. It were too much to ex- 
 pect to find developed alike in all the instinctive sense of 
 beauty in art, or the capacity for enjoying its manifesta- 
 tions. No popularising of art will ever equalise the power 
 to feel and to judge of art ; but we may hope that the 
 multiplication and diffusion of objects through which the 
 taste is exercised will tend to facilitate comparison and 
 quicken sensibility. Too long has a degraded taste on 
 the part of the public tended to degrade the artist, who,
 
 334 APPENDIX. 
 
 from want of conscience or from want of bread, becomes 
 subservient to the ignorance or caprice which he regards 
 with secret contempt, and too long has patronage dic- 
 tated where it ought to learn. The effect has been de- 
 moralising on both sides. In the gifted man of genius I 
 have seen it produce absolute deterioration of character, 
 and end in a want of truth towards others, of respect for 
 himself and his art, and of faith in the high aims which 
 had once sanctified his ambition ; whilst the subserviency 
 of him who ought to be the teacher, has altogether 
 blinded the patron to the true relation between them'; so 
 instead of mutual help, gratitude, reverence, we have 
 self-assurance, caprice, and a bargaining meanness on the 
 one side silent, contemptuous heartburning on the other. 
 It has been remarked with truth that public opinion 
 always comes right in the long run that it never fails 
 in time to recognise the truly excellent that it never 
 fails in time to bring to its due level that which it has 
 immeasurably exalted. I have since my childhood known 
 four of the most celebrated artists who have lived in 
 modern times Flaxman, Canova, Chantrey, and Sir 
 Thomas Lawrence. They are gone ; the grave has closed 
 over all. I can speak of them now as minds, not men. 
 Of these four, the one who had, whilst living, the least 
 reputation was certainly Flaxman. Yet he it was who 
 took the highest ground ; we have since been working up 
 to him, and every day, every hour, we become more sen- 
 sible of his true artistic greatness ; whilst, I believe, it is 
 pretty generally admitted that the others during their life- 
 time were overrated ; that Canova could be feeble and 
 effeminate ; that Chantrey and Sir Thomas were below par 
 in creative art. Such is the wide difference between re- 
 putation and fame. The better a public are educated, 
 the sooner will such justification take place ; the less will 
 fashion usurp the part of taste ; the less we shall hear
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 335 
 
 of people deciding in a cavalier manner on subjects, for the 
 right understanding of which an almost lifelong education 
 is necessary. 
 
 When in the last century a cause relative to the piracy 
 of a print was tried before one of our judges (Lord 
 Kenyon, I believe), the evidence relative to critical discri- 
 mination in the degree of merit in the original and the 
 copy, the variety of opinions and arguments, astonished 
 and somewhat perplexed both judge and jury. Lord 
 Kenyon, in summing up, expressed his regret that he had 
 lived all his life without an idea of some of the points 
 which had been brought forward, and his conviction ' that 
 there was more in those things than he had ever con- 
 ceived before.' Now there are many in the same case with 
 this most wise and candid judge many who, like him, 
 have passed through a long life of various and dignified 
 pursuits without having given a moment's thought to the 
 conditions of beauty which enter into a print, a picture, 
 or a statue, and may be suddenly wakened up to a per- 
 ception ' that there is more in these things than they 
 ever conceived before.' 
 
 A state of profound peace has generally been con- 
 sidered as favourable to the development of the arts, 
 yet where the clash of social interests has roused to un- 
 wonted activity the intellects and imaginations of men, it 
 has been good in the long run for those who, standing apart 
 from the tumult, yet feel it react upon them. High deeds 
 must be done before the poet can sing them, or the artist 
 commemorate them ; and where grand stirring influences 
 all the mind of the people, they become not less, but 
 more, alive to the forms in which their sensations, so to 
 speak, are reproduced to themselves. We see this in the 
 history of the great republics of Greece and Italy, in 
 distracted Athens, in more distracted Florence. May not 
 these present days of revolutions, and wars, and famines,
 
 336 APPENDIX. 
 
 and gold-seeking, be succeeded by the days of artistic 
 creation in new forms ? Even now, more is written 
 and thought about art, more encouragement given to 
 artists generally, than at any period in the history of our 
 community. Not only is there an increasing demand for 
 the higher productions of mind and skill, but in the mere 
 objects of luxury, ornament and utility, art and artists are 
 put in requisition. We call for an architect where we for- 
 merly employed a bricklayer, and our house-painters are ac- 
 complished in the theoretical harmony of lines and colours. 
 
 This is more particularly the case with the plastic arts. 
 Under this term we comprehend all imitation of form, from 
 the expression of ideal beauty and lofty sentiment, the 
 godlike and the spiritual under the human semblance set 
 forth in enduring marble or more enduring bronze, down 
 to the bisque statuette on the chimney, the vase or ewer on 
 the tea-table, or the arabesque frieze to decorate our rooms. 
 
 This passion and fashion for works of beauty and 
 decoration has been growing among us, assisted by many 
 causes. The invention of most ingenious mechanical pro- 
 cesses, by which the magnificent remains of antiquity and 
 the productions of living artists may be reproduced with 
 marvellous delicacy and exactitude, and of other processes 
 by which ornamental carving and casting from faultless 
 models may be executed at a trifling expense, the perfec- 
 tion to which modern chemical science has brought the 
 finest preparations of clay, as bisque and terra-cotta, 
 together with the application of new materials, gutta-percha 
 for instance, to the purposes of art ; and though last, not 
 least, the institution of schools of design all over the 
 country all these have combined to assist by mechanical 
 means the multiplication of what the French call ' objets 
 de goiit et de luxe. That this growing taste may not be 
 vulgarised, is a matter of great importance. We may en- 
 tertain the deepest sympathy for the artist struggling to live
 
 APPENDIX. 337 
 
 by the proceeds of that art to which he has given his life, 
 and applaud the efforts made by public means to render 
 his works known and give him a fair chance for reputation 
 (it is not for one generation to give fame). But let it ever 
 be borne in mind that we best assist our native artists by 
 placing before them and the public, who is to judge them, 
 in every possible form, those productions which bear the 
 stamp of original greatness, and have been consecrated by 
 the admiration of successive generations of men ; things 
 which exist at a distance, or have become so rare and so 
 expensive that they are locked up in national collections 
 or in the portfolios of amateurs. On these the principles 
 of art are founded, or rather by these they are illustrated, 
 for these lead us back to nature, pure nature, which is only 
 another name for the pure ideal, and whence all must pro- 
 ceed which is to endure through the vicissitudes of con- 
 ventional manners and modes of thought. 
 
 This is the main object of a society lately instituted 
 the Arundel Society. Between this society and one begun 
 some years ago for the encouragement of modern art and 
 native artists, there should be no rivalry rather the most 
 close and friendly co-operation. Every help to the know- 
 ledge of genuine art is a help to the living artist ; and 
 only the meanest, narrowest, and most short-sighted views 
 would make a man think otherwise. 
 
 The result of all this, and what I would inculcate by 
 every means in my power, is that a knowledge of the just 
 theory of the imitative arts might well form a part of the 
 education of the young, and particularly, I think, of young 
 women. It is not very intelligible why so much pains 
 should be taken to initiate a girl into a knowledge of the 
 theory of music to cultivate her taste for it by concerts, 
 private and public, even where proficiency in the art, as an 
 art, is out of the question and, at the same time, leave 
 her in the most pitiable ignorance, or abandon her to self- 
 
 z
 
 33 8 APPENDIX. 
 
 culture with regard to the elementary principles of the 
 other fine arts, on which, nevertheless, she is called in a 
 thousand ways to exercise her faculties. Really it seems 
 ridiculous, when one thinks of it, that a girl should be 
 taught the elements of natural philosophy and chemistry, 
 be initiated into the secrets of nature, while the laws which 
 regulate the harmony and proportion of her visible forms 
 remain a sealed book. Superficial knowledge of all kinds 
 is the perdition of women, and a superficial taste in the 
 fine arts leads them into that perverted and frivolous 
 taste for mere prettiness which is destructive to the best 
 interests of the best artists among us. 
 
 The faculty of delight in beauty needs to be educated 
 like all our faculties, and I wish Miss Martineau had said 
 something upon the subject in her admirable little treatise 
 on household education. We know that women have written 
 very sensible and elegant letters, with but little knowledge 
 either of orthography or syntax, yet no one, I suppose, 
 argues that a woman has therefore no need to study spell- 
 ing or grammar. A knowledge of thorough bass and of 
 elementary physics now enters into every liberal scheme of 
 female education. Why, therefore, should not some atten- 
 tion be paid to the elementary principles of the fine arts ? 
 Why should not the best models of each be early placed 
 before a young girl, and their comparative excellence 
 pointed out to her attention ? What a source of innocent 
 enjoyment it would open to innocent minds at that age 
 when the faculties are athirst for pleasurable sensation ! A 
 landscape painter once told me that, sitting down on some 
 occasion to make a study of foliage, his attention was at- 
 tracted by a group of feathery grass and weeds by the 
 hedge-side, and he was so touched by the inexpressible 
 grace with which nature had thrown together their flowing 
 lines and graceful forms, that he sat for many moments 
 contemplating them without venturing to put his pencil to
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 339 
 
 the paper, until he felt his eyes moisten with devout 
 admiration and love ! It is in truth one of the greatest ad- 
 vantages of a cultivated taste in art, that it multiplies a 
 thousandfold our enjoyment in the beauties of nature ; 
 wakes up our attention to innumerable minute and tran- 
 sient effects of grace which we should otherwise pass by 
 unperceived. We do, indeed, meet with persons who have 
 a good deal of connoisseurs/tip, of whose morals we cannot 
 think very highly, but we soon learn to distinguish this sort 
 of merely conventional taste from that really purified per- 
 ception of the beautiful which leads us through the love of 
 art to the love of Nature and from Nature up to God. 
 
 But I must not be tempted from the original purpose 
 of this essay. Everyone admits that a just taste in art is 
 desirable ; no one denies that knowledge is better than 
 ignorance, and that in the perception of fitness and beauty, 
 as well as the perception of right and wrong, it may be as 
 well to ' train up a child in the way it should go.' For the 
 present, therefore, I will notice merely a few of the com- 
 monest mistakes, committed daily from that want of feel- 
 ing or want of reflection which, in matters of art, goes by 
 the general name of want of taste. To the knowledge by 
 which they are to be avoided or rectified there is no royal 
 road, and here I only suggest them for consideration, and 
 with reference more particularly to one of the fine arts 
 sculpture. 
 
 These mistakes are of two kinds. The first have rela- 
 tion to the external conditions of a work of art its 
 material, size, and situation. The second have relation to 
 the aesthetic conditions of a work of art, as the design 
 and conception of the subject ; the form best suited to it, 
 whether painting or sculpture (for observe that the form 
 is distinct from the material} ; the treatment, as regards 
 the grouping, expression, colour, and all qualities depending 
 
 7. 2
 
 340 APPENDIX. 
 
 on the mind of the artist, and addressed to the mind of 
 the observer. 
 
 The material in sculpture may be bronze, marble, stone, 
 wood, plaster, terra-cotta, shells or precious stones, &c. Now 
 everyone who would judge of art should know something 
 of the inherent capabilities of these materials and their 
 proper application ; for they cannot be used indiscriminately 
 for all subjects and purposes. I have seen strange mis- 
 takes made by persons ordering in marble what could only 
 look well in bronze. But why ? On what principle shall 
 a particular subject, group, or figure, look ill in marble and 
 well in bronze ? It is not here the relative value or beauty 
 of the material which is in question ; it is its fitness. It is 
 not only the artist or the artificer who should be able to 
 enter into these considerations, for I have seen the artist's 
 judgment overruled, either because he could not clearly 
 explain in words principles which had grown up in his 
 own mind with his mind, or that no explanation could 
 render his reasons intelligible where the faculties of atten- 
 tion and comparison had never been brought to bear on 
 such points. Hence there ensued distrust, vexation, loss, 
 and disappointment. 
 
 Size is another of these conditions which is of great 
 consequence. Not every subject which looks well large, 
 will look well small ; far more rarely will a subject grace- 
 ful and agreeable of a small size endure to be magnified. 
 The nature of the subject has to be considered. In general, 
 though size be one of the elements of the sublime, the 
 really sublime and ideal work of art loses but little when 
 reduced in dimension, as long as the proportions are exactly 
 attended to. You can have colossal proportions and god- 
 like power within the circumference of a gem for the finger, 
 figures and groups which might be magnified to any size, 
 and lose nothing either in delicacy of finish or delicacy of 
 expression ; some of the fine Greek bronzes are examples.
 
 APPENDIX. 341 
 
 For instance, the little bronze 'Jupiter' in the British 
 Museum, about a foot in height, the exquisite little 
 ' Mercury ' not more than six inches high, are at hand to 
 testify to the perfection of majesty and grace in diminutive 
 forms. On the other hand, picturesque sculpture will 
 seldom bear to be magnified, nor will any subject which is 
 merely ornamental or conventional in the treatment. The 
 pretty statuette of ' The Prince of Wales as a Sailor,' the 
 little figure of ' Fanny Elssler ' dancing the ' Cachucha,' 
 would be insufferable if enlarged to life-size. There is a 
 curious law too by which size and material act on each 
 other ; a bust or a statue in marble of the exact proportions 
 of life, will often look much smaller than life. Some 
 thought and attention are due therefore to the conditions 
 of size. 
 
 Then as to situation. I say nothing here of those 
 mental associations, which should always influence the 
 selection of a work of art, with reference to its purpose, 
 which would prevent everyone from taking down a 
 ' Nativity ' from an altar and placing it over a sideboard, 
 or hanging up a ' Massacre of the Innocents ' in a lady's 
 boudoir. I would merely refer to those physical conditions 
 by which a work of art, be it painting or sculpture, is 
 fitted to the situation it occupies, or the situation fitted for 
 that particular object. The distance at which it is to be seen, 
 the point of view, the degree of light are of the highest 
 importance. I have seen ridiculous, and, as regarded the 
 destinies of the object, fatal mistakes of this kind com 
 mitted from the want of a sense of adaptation, or from not 
 considering how far a work of art executed for a particular 
 locality can bear removal to another. For example, the 
 ' Pensiero ' of Michael Angelo, to produce the full effect 
 intended by the artist, must be placed at a considerable 
 height, and must be lighted from above. A lower situa- 
 tion or a side-light interferes with the sentiment. Michael
 
 342 APPENDIX. 
 
 Angelo himself, in the first fresco which he executed for 
 the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel (the 'Deluge'), com- 
 mitted an error which he was careful to avoid in the suc- 
 ceeding compositions. The treatment was too crowded, 
 too complicated, to produce the effect he had intended ; 
 he had not sufficiently considered the conditions of light 
 and distance. In the Metopes of the Parthenon and the 
 Phigalian marbles the exact adaptation of the degree of 
 relief to the light and distance, and the arrangement of 
 the figures to the degree of relief, involve considerations 
 of the highest moment, and which being well understood 
 must enhance our admiration of these wonderful things as 
 productions of mind, and assist us to those principles 
 which are capable of a universal application, as conditions 
 of fitness and excellence. The laws exemplified in the 
 works of Michael Angelo and the sculpture of the 
 Parthenon may be applied to the ornamental bas-relief 
 over a chimneypiece, or the chased work of a lady's 
 brooch. 
 
 As to the second class of errors, those which have 
 reference to the more spiritual conditions of art. I shall 
 say little of them here, except to impress on the mind of 
 the educator the necessity for exercising in a right direc- 
 tion the faculties of admiration and reverence as applied 
 to those productions of mind which are clothed in form and 
 colour, seeing that they surround us on every side, and 
 make a part of our daily life. Here also we should be 
 taught by precept and example that there is a true and a 
 false, which cannot by any arbitrary fashions of the day 
 be overlooked or confounded with impunity. 
 
 The most important, and at the same time the com- 
 monest, error I have met with, arises from a total ignorance 
 of the necessary limitations of the various styles of art. 
 The graceless absurdities, the unreasonable demands on 
 an artist's capabilities, which I have seen result from such
 
 APPENDIX. 343 
 
 mistakes, would fill pages. Sir Joshua Reynolds tells us 
 somewhere of a nobleman who once came to him and re- 
 quired him to paint a picture representing the interview 
 between James II. and the old Earl of Bedford, the father 
 of the martyred Russell ; when James requested the assist- 
 ance of the Earl, he replied in a broken voice, ' I had once 
 a son who would now have done your majesty good 
 service.' Sir Joshua in vain endeavoured to convince his 
 noble friend that the subject was one which could not be 
 adequately represented in any form of art. I forget how 
 the affair ended, but probably the patron left the artist 
 with a meaner idea of his powers than he had entertained 
 before, and found some one else to paint James II. and 
 Bedford standing opposite to one another. Not all that 
 we can imagine to ourselves as a passing action or event 
 not all that can be described in words is suitable for a 
 picture, and in this respect, if painting has its limitations, 
 much more narrow are the limitations of sculpture. Lessing, 
 in the admirable piece of criticism which he has entitled 
 The Laocoon,' was the first to point out clearly the relative 
 capabilities and limitations of the two arts ; and I con- 
 ceive that, without a just appreciation of this distinction, 
 artists and amateurs are likely to fall into the most grace- 
 less errors and absurdities. 
 
 I will venture on a familiar illustration of this neglect 
 or ignorance of a principle founded in the absolute nature 
 of things. When at Rome I went into some of the ateliers 
 of the finest cutters of shells, and expressed my surprise 
 at the total unfitness of some of the objects selected 
 popular pictures, for instance, transferred to bas-relief, 
 Correggio's ' Holy Families,' and Guide's ' Angels,' or the 
 ' Daughter of Herodias.' I was answered that these were 
 executed for the English market. One of the most cele- 
 brated among the English artists in Rome told me that he 
 often accompanied those who came to him with letters of
 
 344 APPENDIX. 
 
 recommendation to the ateliers of the different bronze, 
 mosaic, and shell works ; the plea being that they, the 
 purchasers, might be directed in their choice by his superior 
 taste and experience. ' But,' said he, ' I know not how it 
 happened, I seldom could induce them to choose what was 
 really good, really fine and appropriate ; and in presence 
 of Italian workmen, I have blushed for the vulgar mistakes 
 made by my countrywomen women of rank, education, 
 and otherwise elegant minds.' Their ' ignorance,' he added 
 with true artistic emphasis, ' was on such subjects quite 
 dreadful ! ' 
 
 The source of these mistakes lay in the want of an 
 educated perception of certain laws, as much founded in 
 nature, as immutable, as those which regulate harmony 
 and the power of expression in music. The persons 
 alluded to by my friend, perhaps looked to the workman- 
 ship, examined it with a microscope, believed themselves 
 quite capable of judging whether the thing was well or 
 ill done the more serious question, whether it was a thing 
 that ought to be done at all, having never once occurred 
 to them. 
 
 The beautiful ornamental casts and statuettes which 
 issue daily from \hzfabriques of Messrs. Copeland, Minton, 
 and others, the facility, cheapness, and elegance with 
 which form is reproduced in twenty different materials, 
 while they delight the lovers of art, may well excite some 
 anxiety and apprehension, lest we be inundated with 
 graceful frivolities and commonplace second-rate sentimen- 
 tal trash of every sort. 
 
 Now that the ' million ' have become patrons of art, 
 it becomes too obviously the interest of the manufacturer 
 to cater for the fancy of the ' million ; ' and thus it is a 
 matter of very serious import that the young should be 
 trained to discernment and refinement in the appreciation 
 of such objects as are addressed to the mind through the
 
 APPENDIX. 345 
 
 eye, that the public taste should, through the rising genera- 
 tion, be more generally educated at least, that it should 
 not be vitiated. All which is humbly submitted to the 
 consideration of the reader. 
 
 Art is for pleasure and for contemplation. 
 
 To multiply the sources of pleasure, and to enlarge the 
 sphere of contemplation, are the objects we propose to 
 ourselves in cultivating what we term a taste for the fine 
 arts. 
 
 But not only must we have pleasure and contemplation 
 associated together ; they must be associated in equal 
 measure ; for as surely as the one or the other predominates, 
 there shall be no full concord, no complete, harmonious 
 enjoyment of the object before us. The intense feeling of 
 beauty, merely as such, without a corresponding exercise 
 of the faculties of the intellect, or a due subjection to the 
 moral sympathies, leaves the soul of man unsatisfied, and 
 produces, if not a degraded and frivolous, at least a narrow 
 and defective, taste in art. 
 
 On the other hand, where the fine arts become sub- 
 jects of disquisition and analysis, as manifestations of the 
 human powers, as part of the history of human culture, 
 as an instrument available in the hands of government 
 for the amusement or improvement of the people, as a 
 means, in short, to some end out of themselves, be that end 
 what it may, the highest or the lowest, then such a merely 
 speculative, utilitarian appreciation of art, can lead to 
 nothing very good, I believe, except it be a grant from the 
 Treasury to help Mr. Layard, or a new National Gallery, 
 with room for Mr. Vernon's pictures. For individual en- 
 joyment, for individual elevation and improvement, what 
 can it do ? But blend with the sensuous pleasures of form 
 and colour thrilling through nerve and fancy, a world of 
 awakened thoughts crowding in like divine guests to a
 
 346 APPENDIX. 
 
 divine banquet, and then we have indeed a joy at once 
 subjective and objective, infinite, complete, and worthy of 
 our immortality : a joy, which no lower nature can share 
 with us, which higher natures, if they did not share, might 
 envy us. 
 
 I pointed out on a former occasion the importance of 
 cultivating in early education a refined and exact taste in 
 the fine arts, and the advantage of being prepared by some 
 knowledge of those principles which define the objects and 
 limit the capabilities of each, to understand what we may 
 reasonably demand from the art and from the artist. But 
 we must remember that a refined, an educated taste, is not 
 necessarily an exclusive or fastidious taste ; on the con- 
 trary, the more cultivated the taste, the more catholic 
 catholic, I mean, in the sense of universal. Artists by pro- 
 fession must, of course, choose, or be impelled by the 
 natural bent of their genius which leaves them no choice, 
 to select a particular branch of one or other of the fine 
 arts. The streams which would otherwise diverge to fer- 
 tilise a thousand meadows, must be directed into one deep 
 narrow channel before they can turn a mill. And not 
 unfrequently we find others, not professional artists, indulge 
 a passion for some particular department of art. One 
 collects prints after Claude ; another, Marc Antonio's : one 
 buys Dutch pictures, another Etruscan vases : but exactly 
 in proportion as we have cultivated a knowledge of all the 
 fine arts, and all the various schools of art, in their rela- 
 tion to each other and to our own souls and to universal 
 nature, will be the correctness of our judgment in that one 
 to which we have especially devoted ourselves, and the 
 measure of the delight it will afford us. 
 
 Neither is it true that a correct and elevated standard 
 of taste, or a catholic appreciation of whatever is excellent 
 in every department of art, necessarily excludes or weakens 
 individual feelings and preferences ; far from it. As of two
 
 APPENDIX. 347 
 
 persons, two characters, whose qualities and gifts of person 
 and mind we know to be pretty equally balanced, one shall 
 be unspeakably dear, in every action, every look, every 
 movement interesting to us ; their absence or their pre- 
 sence makes the difference between darkness and light : 
 while the other shall be comparatively indifferent, though 
 whenever brought before us we have all the pleasures of 
 admiration and appreciation ; so it is with the productions 
 of mind in the fine arts. In as far as they are stamped 
 by originality, and bear the various impress of individual 
 character, and in as far as our own sensibility is genuine as 
 well as refined, in so far we shall unite with large percep- 
 tion and keen enjoyment of all that is good, a power of 
 being excited through our sympathies and associations, and 
 tone and temper of mind, to form preferences, to take 
 delight in some one object, or some one style of art more 
 than in another. 
 
 In contradistinction to a catholic taste in Art, we may 
 have an exclusive or sectarian taste, which seems to me in 
 most cases to argue one of two things either a want of 
 natural sensibility, or something factitious and narrow in the 
 training of that faculty. 
 
 For example and I will turn to music for an illustra- 
 tion as being, of all the fine arts, the most generally 
 cultivated and understood if we should hear (as I have 
 actually heard) a soi-disant connoisseur profess to worship 
 Handel, and at the same time speak of Mozart as merely 
 ' the composer of some pretty songs,' and denounce all 
 the operas of Rossini and Bellini as ' intolerable trash,' 
 what should we say ? It sounds grand and imposing, this 
 Ant Handel, ant nihil\ but so to love Handel is not to love 
 music ; or such love of music is like the piety of the man 
 who could say his prayers nowhere but in his own parish 
 church. So, if we should hear one discourse on the ' old 
 masters ' and ' early Christian art,' while the vigorous
 
 348 APPENDIX. 
 
 nature of Landseer, and the animated elegance of Leslie, 
 and the deep refined feeling of Eastlake, exist for him in 
 vain ; or another enthusiastic about Claude and Poussin, 
 while the breezy freshness of Lee's home scenery or the 
 bright poetry of Stanfield's Italian landscapes are to him 
 as though they were not, then we may be silent ; but it 
 will be the silence of pity rather than of sympathy. 
 
 For myself, I would rather have the quick sensitive ear 
 of the Harmonious Blacksmith who had delight in the 
 variety of tones struck by his own hammer I would 
 rather have the mere instinctive pleasure of a child that 
 claps its hands when the rainbow spans the sky, than the 
 fantastic exclusiveness of such lovers of music, such lovers 
 of art ! Between Handel's wondrous ' Hailstone Chorus/ 
 executed by six hundred musicians to an audience of six 
 thousand people, and Paesiello's ' Nel cor piu non mi sento] 
 warbled from a star-lit terrace, there is certainly as wide a 
 difference and the same kind of difference as between 
 Michael Angelo's ' Last Judgment ' and one of Fra Angelico's 
 angels of Paradise. Happy are they who feel and worship 
 either ; but happier far those who can comprehend both, 
 whose hearts can thrill to every chord of power and beauty 
 struck between these two extremes of grandeur and of 
 grace ! 
 
 Now, to return to the especial object of these pre- 
 liminary observations. We must begin by admitting the 
 position laid down by Frederic Schlegel, that Art and 
 Nature are not identical. ' Men/ he says, ' traduce Nature, 
 who falsely give her the epithet of artistic ; ' for though 
 nature comprehends all Art, Art cannot comprehend all 
 Nature. Nature, in her sources of PLEASURE and CON- 
 TEMPLATION, is infinite, and Art, as her reflection in human 
 works, finite ; Nature is boundless in her powers, exhaust- 
 less in her variety : the powers of Art and its capabilities 
 of variety in production are bounded on every side. Nature
 
 APPENDIX. 349 
 
 herself, the infinite, has circumscribed the bounds of finite 
 Art. The one is the divinity ; the other the priestess. 
 And if poetic Art in the interpreting of Nature share in her 
 infinitude, yet, in representing Nature through material 
 form and colour, she is, oh ! how limited ! The highest 
 genius is best shown in its power of perceiving and 
 respecting these bounds, and working within them in a 
 perfect and noble freedom. 
 
 Now, as I have already observed, 1 if each of the forms 
 of poetic art has its law of limitation, as determined as 
 the musical scale, narrowest of all are the limitations of 
 sculpture, to which, notwithstanding, we give the highest 
 place. And I have also attempted to show that it is with 
 regard to sculpture we find most frequently those mis- 
 takes which arise from a want of knowledge of the true 
 principles of art. Now I will endeavour to explain, with 
 reference to sculpture, the distinction between an exact 
 critical taste and a narrow, exclusive, and factitious taste. 
 
 Admitting, then, as necessary and immutable, the limi- 
 tations of the art of sculpture as to the management of 
 the material in giving form and expression ; its primal laws 
 of repose and simplicity ; its rejection of the complex and 
 conventional ; its bounded capabilities as to choice of 
 subject : must we also admit, with some of the most 
 celebrated critics in art, that there is but one style of 
 sculpture the GREEK ? And that every deviation from 
 pure Greek art must be regarded as a depravation and 
 perversion of the powers and objects of sculpture, and 
 stigmatised as such or only scornfully endured ? This is 
 a question which we may at least consider. 
 
 We are not now looking back to the antique time. We 
 are not thinking of what sculpture was to the Greeks, but 
 
 1 Art Journal, cxxix. See also Eastlake's Contributions to the 
 Literature of Art, Coleridge's sketch On Poesy in Art, and the work 
 of F. Schlegel, to which I have been, in the foregoing observations 
 largely indebted.
 
 350 APPENDIX. 
 
 what it is or may be to us, as the expression of our pre- 
 sent life, that is to say, of all that is worth anything in 
 life, its religion and its poetry. The Assyrian, the Egyp- 
 tian, the Lycian sculptures, so wonderful and interesting to 
 us as monuments, are in every other sense done with. 
 They may be imitated, copied, but their life has gone into 
 the past. They are forms of what exists no longer, and 
 forms which we should not borrow to clothe in them either 
 our own memories or our aspirations. They are to us dead. 
 There remain to us Greek art, and that style which, for 
 the sake of brevity and clearness, I will here call Gothic 
 sculpture ; not admitting the propriety or exactness of the 
 epithet, but using it in a general sense, as we use the term 
 Gothic architecture, to comprehend all sculpture not 
 produced under classical influence. 
 
 Now, as for Greek sculpture, what can it do for us ? 
 what can we do with it ? Many things beautiful, glorious 
 things ! not all things ! 
 
 It is absolute that Greek art reached long ago the term 
 of its development ; it can go no farther. We may stand 
 and look at the Sister Fates of the Parthenon in awe and 
 in despair ; we can do neither more nor better. But we 
 have not done with Greek sculpture. What in it is purely 
 ideal is eternal ; what is conventional is in accordance with 
 the primal conditions of all imitative art. Therefore, 
 though it may have reached the point at which develop- 
 ment stops, and though its capability of adaptation be 
 limited by necessary laws, still its all-beautiful, its immor- 
 tal imagery hangs round us, haunts us : still ' doth the old 
 feeling bring back the old names' and with the old names, 
 the forms.; still in those old familiar forms we continue to 
 clothe all that is loveliest in visible nature ; still in all our 
 associations with Greek art 
 
 'Tis Jupiter who brings whate'er is great, 
 And Venus who brings everything that's fair !
 
 APPENDIX. 351 
 
 That the supreme beauty of Greek art that the majes- 
 tic significance of the classical myths, will ever be to the 
 educated mind and eye as things indifferent and outworn, 
 I cannot believe. Our sculptors still seek there what they 
 cannot find elsewhere, the perfection of ideal beauty in the 
 undraped human form ; still does Gibson run variations on 
 the tale of ' Cupid and Psyche,' and its perpetual beauty 
 wearies us never. Foley's ' Ino and Bacchus ; ' the new 
 version of ' The Three Graces,' by Baily ; the ' Eucharis ' 
 of Wyatt ; the really Olympian ' Venus and Cupid ' of 
 Edward Davis, show us in how fine a spirit Greek art 
 is felt and rendered by these and others of our native 
 sculptors. 
 
 But it may well be doubted whether the impersonation 
 of the Greek allegories in the purest forms of Greek art 
 will ever give intense pleasure to the people, or ever speak 
 home to the hearts of the men and women of these times. 
 And this, not from the want of an innate taste and capacity 
 in the minds of the masses not because ignorance has 
 'frozen the genial current in their souls' not merely through 
 a vulgar preference for mechanical imitation of common 
 and familiar forms ; no, but from other causes, not tran- 
 sient not accidental. Because a classical education is not 
 now, as heretofore, the only education given ; and through 
 an honest and intense sympathy with the life of their own 
 experience ; and from a dislike to vicious associations, 
 though clothed in classical language and classical forms ; 
 thence it is that the people have turned with a sense of 
 relief from gods and goddesses, Ledas and Antiopes, to 
 shepherds and shepherdesses, groups of charity, and young 
 ladies in the character of Innocence. Harmless, picturesque 
 inanities ! as much sculpture as Watts' hymns are poetry. 
 But is this art for the million ? we might as well feed our 
 ' million ' on soupe-au-lait. To such things has Greek art 
 in its popular form been reduced. But Gothic sculpture
 
 352 APPENDIX. 
 
 has this in common with Gothic architecture, that it has 
 within it a principle of almost exhaustless development ; 
 and if that development be guided and governed by reve- 
 rential feeling, and a just and harmonious taste if we be 
 not deluged with the merely ornamental and sentimental, 
 or the vulgarly familiar and extravagant we may, in fol- 
 lowing out the principle of medieval art, be allowed to 
 seek in sculpture the expression of what is most vene- 
 rable and dear to us in memory ; in life, and in after-life. 
 
 All sculpture was, in its origin, combined with architec- 
 ture, and subservient to it ; and as the Greek sculpture, 
 when disengaged from architecture, fell into new and 
 various forms without losing its characteristics of intense- 
 ness and simplicity, the same is true of Gothic sculpture ; 
 with this essential difference, that as Greek sculpture 
 was the apotheosis of mortal beauty and power, it found 
 early and necessarily its limits of perfection, and the highest 
 possible adaptation of its principles in the deification of 
 external nature : but as Gothic sculpture was the expres- 
 sion of a new life introduced into the world of love puri- 
 fied through faith and hope of human affections, sorrows, 
 aspirations ; it follows, that we have not yet found or 
 imagined any limit to its capabilities ; we test its perfection 
 by a wholly different law. We find its highest inspiration 
 in our religion and our poetry, and hitherto its grandest 
 adaptation in those sweet and solemn types of form 
 handed down to us by the religious artists of the Middle 
 Ages. 
 
 Therefore what the people now demand from sculpture 
 is the introduction into our places of worship of a style of 
 art embodying the grand and holy memories of our reli- 
 gion, the solemn and gracious figures of the scriptural per- 
 sonages ; and into our rooms and houses the forms of 
 those beings consecrated in our poetry, or memorable in 
 our annals. It is true that hitherto in many instances
 
 APPENDIX. 353 
 
 where this has been attempted, there has been complete or 
 partial failure, either from tasteless treatment, or injudicious 
 selection, or ignorance, or neglect of the primal laws com- 
 mon to all sculpture, and that the result has been not legi- 
 timate sculpture, but the transfer of a picture to marble ; 
 and this will never do. 
 
 It was natural that the abuse of religious art in the 
 Middle Ages should lead to a reaction. This reaction 
 had reached its ultimatum in the defaced, denuded parish 
 churches, the wretched formal whitewashed Dissenting 
 chapels, which people were pleased to call a return to 
 primitive apostolic simplicity, whereas it was only Puri- 
 tanical intolerance, tasteless incapacity, poverty of means 
 or of mind. Now the pendulum swings back again ; we 
 must only be careful that the impulse given does not send 
 it too far in the contrary direction. 
 
 Music, painting, sculpture, if these are a means of 
 lifting up the heart to God, it is a proof that He intends us 
 to use such means. The abuse of such means to purposes 
 which enslave the intellect or misdirect the feelings, only 
 proves that, like all the best gifts of God, these too are 
 liable to abuse. Rowland Hill (he of the Chapel, not of 
 the Post Office) used to say that he saw no reason why the 
 devil should have the monopoly of the best tunes, and in 
 the same manner I see no reason why in these days sculpture 
 should be held fit for secular purposes alone. ' It is not,' 
 says Landor, in one of those wise and eloquent passages 
 which so often occur in his pages ' it is not because God 
 is delighted with hymns and instruments of music, or pr&- 
 fers bass to tenor, or tenor to bass, or Handel to Giles 
 Holloway, that nations throng to celebrate in their churches 
 His power and His beneficence. It is not that Inigo 
 Jones or Christopher Wren could erect to Him a habitation 
 more worthy of His presence than the humblest cottage on 
 the loneliest moor. It is that the best feelings, the highest 
 
 A A
 
 354 APPENDIX. 
 
 faculties, the greatest wealth, should be displayed and 
 exercised in the patrimonial palace of every family united ; 
 for such are churches both to the rich and poor.' 
 
 I was about to venture on a few words relative to the 
 selection of religious and poetical subjects which have been 
 or may be adapted to sculptural treatment, and are fitted 
 for the present state of feeling and opinion ; but this de- 
 mands so much consideration, and would lead us so far, 
 that it must be postponed to a future occasion.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 AMB 
 
 AMBOS, Betty von, 84 
 Amelia, Princess, of Saxony, 
 Mrs. Jameson's translation of her 
 dramas, 158, 163, 175 
 Arkwright, Mrs., her singing, 15 
 Art, Thoughts on, by Mrs. Jameson, 
 
 332-354 
 
 Austin, Mrs., 90, 145 ; her ' Cha- 
 racteristics of Goethe,' 77 
 
 BA1LLIE, Joanna, her letter on 
 the ' Winter Studies,' 149 ; her 
 friendship with Mrs. Jameson, 
 185 ; her letter on the death of Dr. 
 Channing, 187 ; her opinions on 
 the moral state of Scotland, 197 
 
 Barrett, Elizabeth (afterwards Mrs. 
 Browning). See Browning, Eli- 
 zabeth Barrett 
 
 Barry Cornwall, his friendship 
 with Mrs. Jameson, 43 
 
 Bate, Mrs., anecdote of her child- 
 hood, 22 ; her marriage, 52 
 
 Bate, Gerardine (afterwards Mrs. 
 Macpherson), Mrs. Jameson's 
 niece. See Macpherson, Mrs. 
 
 Belgium, Mrs. Jameson's travels 
 in, 52 
 
 Bell, Sir Charles, his ' Anatomy of 
 Expression,' 192 
 
 Birmingham, the riots in 183931, 160 
 
 Booth, Mr, his anecdote concern- 
 
 BYR 
 
 ing Mrs. Jameson's alleged som- 
 nambulism, 3 
 
 Boston, U.S., Mrs. Jameson's im- 
 pression of, 134 
 
 Boufflers, Madame de, 118 
 
 Bradford, Social Science Meeting 
 at, 304 
 
 Briggs, Mr., his portrait of Mrs. 
 Jameson, 44 
 
 Bronte, Mr., 304 
 
 Browning, Robert, his marriage with 
 Miss Barrett, 230 ; his practical 
 poetry at Vaucluse, 231 
 
 Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, her 
 friendship with Mrs. Jameson, 
 190, 229 ; her letter describing 
 her invalid condition, 191 ; her 
 ' Cry of the Children,' 194 ; her 
 translation of the Odyssean le- 
 gend relating to the daughters of 
 Pandarus, 217-219; her opinion 
 of the "essay on the House of 
 Titian,' 219 ; her marriage and 
 meeting in Paris with Mrs. 
 Jameson, 230 ; her improvement 
 in health, 232 ; gives birth to a 
 son, 263 
 
 Burlowe, Henry Behnes, the sculp, 
 tor, 65 ; his death, 177 (note) 
 
 Byron, Lady, her friendship with 
 Mrs. Jameson, 94, 163, 188; her 
 poetry, 187 ; her pursuits at 
 Kirkby, 209 ; her quarrel with 
 her friend, 280 
 
 A A 2
 
 356 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 CAM 
 
 /CAMPBELL, Thomas, his memoir 
 
 \J of Mrs. Siddons, 62 
 
 Canada, Mrs. Jameson's impressions 
 of, 119 
 
 Carlyle, Mr., 87, 143 
 
 Catalani, Mme., 235 
 
 Catherine, St., age of the legend of, 
 245 
 
 Channing, Dr., 134 Joanna Bail- 
 lie's allusion to his death, 187 
 
 Charlotte, Princess, commissions 
 Mr. Murphy to copy the ' Wind- 
 sor Beauties' in miniature, 53 ; 
 her joke about Queen Charlotte, 
 55 ; her death, 55 
 
 Charlotte, Queen, anecdote con- 
 cerning her, 54 
 
 Clarendon, Lord, 255 
 
 Clinton, Mrs., widow of De Witt 
 Clinton, 113 
 
 Colburn, Mr., buys the copyright 
 of Mrs. Jameson's ' Diary,' 42 
 
 Collingwood, Lord, Mrs. Jameson's 
 juvenile verses on, 18 
 
 Combe, George, his article on 
 Phrenology applied to the Fine 
 Arts, 192 
 
 ' Commonplace Book of Thoughts, 
 Memories, and Fancies,' 273 
 
 Compton, Lord, 240 
 
 T\ANNECKER, his statue of the 
 
 jJ Redeemer, 75 
 
 D'Arlincourt, Vicomte, the rage in 
 
 Paris for his romance of the 
 
 ' Solitaire,' 33 
 Davis, Charles A., 113 
 Devrient, Madame Schroeder, 75 ; 
 
 Mrs. Jameson's opinion of her, 
 
 90 
 
 ' Diary of an Ennuyte] 42 
 Dresden, Tieck's house at, 67 
 Duers, the, of New York, 113 
 
 GWY 
 
 TjUSTLAKE, Lady, completes 
 U Mrs. Jameson's unfinished 
 
 manuscripts, 306-310 
 Edgeworth, Maria, 254 
 Education, Mrs. Jameson's efforts 
 
 in behalf of, 121, 159, 270 
 Emmett, Robert, 2 
 Exhibition, the Great, of 1851, 
 
 Mrs. Jameson's guide-book for, 
 
 267 
 
 ' T1AIZY,' Mrs. Jameson's story of, 
 
 * 13, I? 
 
 Fitzgerald, Lord Edward, 2 
 
 Flanders, lace-making of, anecdote 
 concerning Mrs. Jameson, 20 
 
 Forbes, James, the Orientalist, 
 17 
 
 France, Mrs. Jameson's observa- 
 tions on the state of, 249, 270 
 
 Frankfort, 75 
 
 ri ARDINER, Sir Robert, his let- 
 ^J ter to Mr. Murphy concerning 
 
 the miniatures of the ' Windsor 
 
 Beauties,' 57 
 Germany, Mrs. Jameson's Sketches 
 
 of, 86-89 
 Gibson, John, Mrs. Jameson's story 
 
 of his career, 241, 315-331 ; his 
 
 bust of Mrs. Jameson, 241 
 Gmiindensee, the, 101 
 Goethe, Ottilie von, her character, 
 
 77 ; Mrs. Jameson's intimacy 
 
 with her, 78 
 Grote, Mrs., her Memorandum 
 
 concerning Mrs. Jameson, 170- 
 
 172 
 Griiner, Ludwig, his engravings 
 
 from the Royal frescoes, 225 
 Gwynn, Nell, anecdote concerning 
 
 her portrait at Windsor, 54
 
 INDEX. 
 
 357 
 
 HAH 
 
 HAHN-HAHN, Countess, 211 
 ' Hamlet,' the Ghost in, 5 ; the 
 
 female characters in, 69 
 Hanwell, Mrs. Jameson's home at, 
 
 ii 
 
 Harden, Mr. John, 25 
 Hatherton, Lord, Mrs. Jameson's 
 
 friendship with, 37 ; her visit at 
 
 his country-house, 155 
 Haworth, Charlotte Bronte's home, 
 
 304 
 
 Hawthorne, Mr., 302 
 
 Haydon, Benjamin, Mrs. Jameson's 
 review of his life, 276 
 
 Hayter, Mr., his 'Juliet' sketches, 
 62 
 
 Head, Sir Francis, 125 
 
 Hemans, Charles, 239 
 
 Herbert, Sir Charles and Lady, 235 
 
 ' History of the Saviour,' Mrs. 
 Jameson's posthumous work, as 
 completed by Lady Eastlake, 310 
 
 Holland, Mrs. Jameson's travels in, 
 52 
 
 Hudson River, 115 
 
 Humboldt, Mrs. Jameson's intro- 
 duction to, 103 
 
 Hunt, Leigh, his note on Mrs. 
 Jameson, 44 note 
 
 INDIANS, the American, Mrs. 
 Jameson's rambles among, 129 
 Ireland, Mrs. Jameson's political 
 opinions concerning, 196, 216, 
 255, 260 ; her tour in, 251 
 Irving, Washington, his visit to 
 
 Mrs. Jameson, 113 
 Italy, Mrs. Jameson's visits to, 26, 
 212, 230-247, 296-302 
 
 JAMESON Anna Brownell, her 
 *J birth, i ; her early residence 
 at Whitehaven, 2 ; her reminis- 
 cences of her childhood, 4, 13 ; 
 
 JAM 
 
 her removal to Newcastle-on- 
 Tyne, 6 ; her governess, 7 ; un- 
 dertakes a strange childish ad- 
 venture, 8 ; comes to London, 
 ii; her studies, 12; her first 
 literary effusions, 13,17; her love 
 of independence, 19; her plan of 
 assisting her parents, 19 ; enters 
 the Marquis of Winchester's 
 family as governess, 23 ; her first 
 acquaintance with Mr. Jameson, 
 25 ; her journey to Italy, 26 ; 
 diary of her tour, 28 ; her first 
 view of Rome, 36 ; becomes go- 
 verness in the family of Mr. 
 Littleton (afterwards Lord Hath- 
 erton), 37 ; her marriage, 38 ; 
 how her ' Diary' came to be pub- 
 lished, 39; Fanny Kemble's de- 
 scription of her personal appear- 
 ance, 44 ; her married life, 46 ; 
 her record of a second continental 
 tour, 48 ; writes the letterpress 
 for her father's portraits of the 
 1 Beauties of the Court of King 
 Charles II.,' 58; her work on the 
 'Characteristics of Women,' 59; 
 dedicates it to Fanny Kemble, 
 61 ; goes to Germany on her 
 husband's departure for Canada, ^ 
 64; her friendship with Major 
 Noel, 65 ; her introduction to 
 Tieck, 66 ; and to Retzsch, 72 ; 
 her visit to Dannecker, 75 ; her 
 acquaintance with the Goethe 
 family, 76 ; her husband's cool- 
 ness, 79 ; her conversations with 
 Schlegel, 80 ; visits Munich, 82 ; 
 is summoned home on account 
 of her father's illness, 83 ; her 
 motherly affection for her niece, 
 85 ; publishes her ' Visits and 
 Sketches,' 86 ; popularity of her 
 works, 86, 92 ; her description of 
 her life in London. 89 ; brings 
 out Ret/sdvs volume cf ' Fancies,'
 
 358 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 JAM 
 
 92 ; commencement of her inti- 
 macy with Lady Byron, 94 ; re- 
 turns to Germany, 97 ; the want 
 of sympathy between her husband 
 and herself, 98 ; his letters call- 
 ing her to Canada, 99, 106 ; her 
 sojourn beside the Gmiindensee, 
 101 ; returns to Weimar, and is 
 introduced to Humboldt, 103 ; 
 her description of her life at 
 Weimar, 104 ; her reply to her 
 husband's letters, 107 ; decides 
 upon going to Canada, 109 ; her 
 landing at New York, in ; her 
 letter thence to her family, 
 112 ; her voyage up the Hudson 
 river, 115; her arrival at Toronto, 
 116; her reflections on her new 
 home, 117; her impressions of 
 Canada, 119 ; her interest in the 
 education question, 121, 159, 
 270 ; visits the falls of Niagara, 
 122 ; her admiration of Lake 
 Ontario, 123, 128 ; her letters to 
 her sister Charlotte and Mr. 
 Noel, indicating her plans, 124- 
 127 ; attends the prorogation of 
 the Canadian Parliament, 125 ; 
 her description of a Canadian 
 summer, 127 ; resolves to visit 
 the Indian settlements, 129 ; her 
 'Winter Studies and Summer 
 Rambles,' 131, 149, 150, 155 ; her 
 power of winning confidence and 
 affection, 131 ; her final separa- 
 tion from her husband, 132 ; her 
 friendship with Miss Sedgwick, 
 J 33> T 36 ; letter from on board 
 ship to Miss Sedgwick, 137; 
 arrives in England, 139 ; letter 
 to Mr. Noel concerning her 
 Canadian diary, 139 ; letters to 
 Miss Sedgwick, 141-147, 151- 
 154 ; her visit at Lord Hather- 
 ton's, 1 54 ; the review of her book 
 in the ' British and Foreign 
 
 JAM 
 
 Quarterly,' 155 ; plans another 
 visit to Germany, 157; her views 
 on national education and the 
 position of women, 159 ; her ad- 
 miration" of Lady Byron, 161- 
 163 ; her sense of duty to her sex, 
 161 ; her embarrassment on ac- 
 count of her father's health, 165 ; 
 her ' Companion to the Galleries 
 of Art,' 1 66 ; the Queen's appre- 
 ciation of it, 167 ; her contribu- 
 tions to Mr. Noel's translation 
 of Waagen's ' Rubens,' 168 ; her 
 labours in compiling the ' Com- 
 panion,' 170-173 ; success of her 
 articles on Italian painters in 
 the ' Penny Magazine,' 173 ; 
 French translation of, 174 ; pub- 
 lishes a ' Handbook to the Public 
 Galleries,' 175 ; her acquaintance 
 with M. de Triqueti, the sculptor, 
 176; her thoughts on somnam- 
 bulism, 177 ; letter from Paris to 
 her sister Charlotte, 178 ; her 
 father's death, 180; letter to Miss 
 Sedgwick announcing this event, 
 1 82; her friendships, 1 85-1 9 1 ;her 
 article in the ' Athenaeum ' on the 
 condition of women, I95;herj'our- 
 ney to Scotland, 195 ; her reflec- 
 tions on a summer Sunday there, 
 199 ; her preparations for her 
 magnum opifs, 201 ; goes to Ger- 
 many, 210 ; and thence to Italy, 
 212; her letter to Miss Sedgwick 
 describing her tour, 213; her 
 protest against the Coercion 
 Bill, 216 ; publishes a volume of 
 essays, 216; her visit to the 
 house of Titian, 220-224 ; writes 
 the letterpress for Ludwig Gai- 
 ner's engravings of the Royal 
 frescoes, 225 ; her notes upon 
 public affairs, 226, 259 ; publish- 
 ing arrangements for her ' Sacred 
 and Legendary Art,' 226 ; re-
 
 INDEX. 
 
 359 
 
 JAM 
 
 visits Italy with her niece, 228 ; 
 her meeting with the Brownings 
 in Paris, 230 ; her art studies in 
 Pisa, 233 ; her child,' 234 ; her 
 life in Florence, 235 ; her second 
 visit to Rome, 237 ; her Sunday 
 evening tea parties there, 239 ; 
 her story of Gibson's career, 241 ; 
 her lodging, 241 ; her pilgrim- 
 ages among the antique churches, 
 244 ; how she proposed to treat 
 the ' Prince of Darkness,' 248 ; 
 her note on the disturbances of 
 1848, 248 ; publication of her 
 book, 250; revisits Ireland, 251 ; 
 her letters thence to Mr. Long- 
 man concerning her book, 252, 
 
 253 ; her impressions of Ireland, 
 
 254 ; her account of a remarkable 
 sermon, 255 ; Mr. Longfellow's 
 tribute to her work, 263 ; obtains 
 a pension of ioo/., 265 ; her in- 
 terest in the Great Exhibition, 
 267 ; new edition of her book on 
 Canada, 269 ; publication of her 
 ' Legends of the Madonna,' 271 ; 
 her Wednesday evening parties, 
 272 ; her * Commonplace Book,' 
 273 ; her paper on Haydon in 
 the ' Edinburgh Review,' 276 ; 
 letter to Miss Sedgwick on her 
 literary occupations, 278 ; rup- 
 ture of her friendship with Lady 
 Byron, 280-283 > l ss f ner in- 
 come by the death of her hus- 
 band, 283 ; an annuity of ioo/. 
 raised by private subscription for 
 her, 284 ; refuses a yearly allow- 
 ance offered by a friend, 286 ; her 
 lectures on ' Sisters of Charity,' 
 288 ; and on the ' Communion 
 of Labour,' 290 ; the etchings for 
 the second edition of her ' Ma- 
 donna,' 296, 298 ; her delight in ! 
 Rome, 296 ; her unfinished re- I 
 view of ' Vasari,' 299 ; her grief i 
 
 LAB 
 
 at the breach of friendship with 
 Lady Byron, 300 ; her health 
 failing, 301 ; her friends in Rome 
 in 1859, 301 ; commences the 
 ' History of Our Lord and of St. 
 John the Baptist,' 302 ; her de- 
 scription of a Saxon country 
 house, 303 ; returns to London, 
 303 ; attends the Social Science 
 meeting at Bradford, 304 ; her 
 preparations for her last work, 
 35 39 5 h er thoughts on Mu- 
 rillo's picture of the miracle at 
 the Pool of Bethesda, 307 ; her 
 unfinished work, 309 ; her illness, 
 311 ; and death, 312 
 
 Jameson, Robert, his courtship, 25 ; 
 his marriage, 38 ; appointed to a 
 judgeship in the island of Do- 
 minica, 46 ; his return to Eng- 
 land, 63 ; obtains an appoint- 
 ment in Canada, 64 ; summons 
 his wife to Canada, 97 ; his cha- 
 racter, 98 ; his appointment to 
 the Chancellorship, 125; his 
 death, 283 
 
 Jones, Sir Wm., interest taken by 
 Mrs. Jameson in his works during 
 her childhood, 13 
 
 KEMBLE, Adelaide, 153; Mrs. 
 Jameson's memoir of, 224 
 Kemble, Charles, his acting, 166 
 Kemble, Fanny (afterwards Mrs. 
 Butler), her sketch of Mrs. Jame- 
 son, 44 ; suggests a title for Mrs. 
 Jameson's ' Characteristics of 
 Women,' 61 ; her remarks on Mrs. 
 Siddons's biographers, 62 
 
 T ABOUR, Ferdinand, his trans- 
 ^ lation of Mrs. Jameson's papers 
 on Italian painters, 174
 
 3 6 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 LAN 
 
 Lansdowne, Lord, letter to Mrs. 
 
 Jameson, 169 
 
 ' Legends of the Madonna,' 271 
 Lely, Sir Peter, his portraits of the 
 ' ' Windsor Beauties,' 53 
 Leopold, Prince, and Mr. Murphy, 
 
 56 
 
 Lind, Jenny, 263 
 Lindsay, Lord, his work on Christian 
 
 Art, 239 
 
 Lockhart, John Gibson, 142 
 Longfellow, his new year's greeting 
 
 to Mrs. Jameson, 263 
 
 1 111 ACBETH,' Tieck's translation 
 1V1 of, 67 
 
 Macpherson, Mrs., Mrs. Jameson's 
 affection for, 211, 228, 234 ; her 
 marriage, 262 ; executes the 
 etchings for the second edition 
 of the ' Madonna,' 298 
 Macpherson, Robert, his marriage 
 to Mrs. Jameson's niece, 262 
 
 Martineau, Harriet, her misstate- 
 ment with regard to Mrs. Jame- 
 son's ' Diary,' 58 ; her introduc- 
 tion to Lady Byron, 95 ; her in- 
 terest in Mrs. Jameson's Canadian 
 book, 149 ; her letter on Mr. Mur- 
 phy's death, 181 ; her letter detail- 
 ing her ' cure by mesmerism,' 205- 
 209 ; Mrs. Jameson's note thereon, 
 209 
 
 Michel Angelo, Mrs. Jameson's 
 ideas of his ' Holy Family,' 37 
 
 Miller, Mr., the publisher, John 
 Murray's precursor, 6 
 
 Montagu, Mrs. Basil, her note con- 
 cerning Mrs. Jameson's ' Diary,' 
 42 
 
 Morgan, Lady, 8r 
 
 Munich, Mrs. Jameson's impres- 
 sions of, 82 
 
 Murillo, his ' Miracle at the Pool 
 of Bethesda,' 307 
 
 NOE 
 
 Murphy, D. Brownell, Mrs. Jame- 
 son's father, his connection with 
 the ' United Irishmen,' i ; re- 
 moves from Dublin to White- 
 haven, 2 ; to Newcastle-on-Tyne, 
 6 ; to London, 1 1 ; his birthday 
 letter to his daughter Anna, 25 ; 
 his miniatures of the ' Windsor 
 Beauties,' 53 ; his appointment 
 as Painter in Enamel to the 
 Princess Charlotte, 53 ; his anec- 
 dote of Queen Charlotte and the 
 portrait of Nell Gwynn, 54 ; 
 death of his patroness, 55 ; his 
 memorial to Prince Leopold in 
 regard to the miniatures, 56 ; the 
 Prince's refusal to purchase them, 
 57 ; has the portraits engraved 
 and published, 58 ; his dangerous 
 illness, 83, 91, 164 ; his death, 
 1 80; Miss Martineau's remarks 
 on the event, 181 
 
 Murphy, Mrs., Mrs. Jameson's 
 mother, death of, 283 
 
 Murphy, Camilla (afterwards Mrs. 
 Sherwin). See Sherwin, Mrs. 
 
 Murphy, Charlotte, 80 
 
 Murphy, Louisa (afterwards Mrs. 
 Bate). See Bate, Mrs. 
 
 Murray, Lady Amelia, her letter to 
 Mrs. Jameson concerning the 
 ' Companion to the Art Galleries,' 
 167 
 
 Murray, Mr. John, the publisher, 6 
 
 NELSON, Lord, Mrs. Jameson's 
 juvenile verses on, 18 
 Newcastle-on-Tyne, Mrs. Jame- 
 son's home at, 6 
 Niagara, the Falls of, 116, 122 
 Noel, Sir Gerard, Mrs. Jameson's 
 sketch of, 49 ; her anecdote of 
 his tender feelings, 50 
 Noel, Miss H. J., 51
 
 INDEX. 
 
 NOE 
 
 Noel, Major R., his friendship with 
 "Mrs. Jameson, 65 ; his marriage, 
 148 ; termination of his corre- 
 spondence with Mrs. Jameson, 
 282 
 
 Normanby, Lord, 299 
 
 ONTARIO, Lake, Mrs. Jameson's 
 admiration of, 123 ; meaning 
 of the name, 128 
 Ottilie von Goethe. See Goethe 
 
 pANDARUS, the daughters of, 
 -L Miss Barrett's rendering of 
 
 the legend, 218 
 Parkes, Bessie Raynor, her remarks 
 
 on Mrs. Jameson, 293, 296 
 Peel, Sir Robert, his letters to Mrs. 
 
 Jameson, 169 
 Pius IX., 237 
 Potter, Dr., 143 
 Procter, Bryan Waller (better known 
 
 as Barry Cornwall). See Barry 
 
 Cornwall 
 Procter, Mrs., raises an annuity 
 
 for Mrs. Jameson, 284 
 Prout, Father (Sylvester O'Ma- 
 
 hony), 239 
 
 /\UEROUAILLE, Louise de la, 
 ^ot her portrait at Windsor, 53 
 
 "RAPHAEL, his cartoon of the 
 
 JLl < Beautiful Gate,' 308 
 
 Reid, Mrs., 240 
 
 Retzsch, Mrs. Jameson's descrip- 
 tion of him, 72 ; her visit to his 
 country house, 73 ; his ' Fancies,' 
 74, 96 ; Mrs. Jameson's services 
 to him, 92 
 
 Rice, Spring (Lord Monteagle), his 
 anecdote of the Queen, 1 54 
 
 SID 
 
 Rio, Alexis-Franqois, Mrs. Jame- 
 son's meeting with, 176 
 
 Robertson, Rev. Mr., his preaching, 
 258 
 
 Rogers, Mr., 307 
 
 Rolle, Lord, 144 
 
 Rome, Mrs. Jameson's first view of, 
 36 ; society of, in 1847, 238 ; the 
 antique churches of, 244 
 
 Ronge, 215 
 
 'Rory O'More,' Lover's story of, 
 138 
 
 Rosawitz, Bohemia, 211 
 
 Russia, 259 
 
 ACRED and Legendary Art,' 
 Mrs. Jameson's work on, 
 192, 201, 226, 250 
 
 San Clemente, Church of, the re- 
 cent discoveries at, 245 ; Mrs. 
 Jameson's delight there, 297 
 
 Saxon Switzerland, 303 
 
 SchefTer, Ary, Mrs. Jameson's in- 
 terpretation of his * Francesco 
 da Rimini,' 279 
 
 Schlegel, his Shakespearean trans- 
 lations, 68, 8 1 ; Mrs. Jameson's 
 acquaintance with him, 80 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter, Joanna Baillie's 
 ideas on his marriage, 142 
 
 Sedgwick, Catherine, her friend- 
 ship with Mrs. Jameson, 133, 
 136 ; her visit to England, 160 
 
 Shakespeare, the female characters 
 of, 59 
 
 Sherwin, Mrs., her birth, 3 ; her 
 anecdote of herself and her sis- 
 ters, 8 
 
 Siddons, Mrs. Henry, her meeting 
 with Mrs. Jameson, 196; her 
 death, 202; Mrs. Jameson's feel- 
 ings on the event, 203 
 
 Siddons, Mrs. Sarah, Mrs. Jame- 
 son's biographical sketch of, 62
 
 362 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 SOM 
 Somnambulism, Mrs. Jameson's 
 
 alleged tendency to, 4 ; her ideas 
 
 on, 177 
 Stockbridge, New England, 134 
 
 TAYLOR, Father, a celebrated 
 preacher of Boston, U.S., 134- 
 
 136 
 
 Taylor, Tom, his life of Haydon,2/6 
 
 Thackeray, W. M., his letter to 
 Mrs. Jameson concerning her 
 pension, 267 
 
 Thomas, Mr., publishes Mrs. Jame- 
 son's ' Diary,' 39 
 
 Tieck, Mrs. Jameson's description 
 of, 67 ; his dramatic readings, 
 67 ; his Shakespearean transla- 
 tions, 67, 68 ; his notes on Mrs. 
 Jameson's ' Characteristics of 
 Women,' 68-72 
 
 Titian, Mrs. Jameson's visit to the 
 house of, 221-224 
 
 Toronto, Mrs. Jameson's impres- 
 sions of, 117 
 
 Triqueti, Henri de, 176 
 
 Trollope, Mrs., her weekly reunions 
 in Florence, 235 
 
 TTNGHER, Caroline, 235 
 
 6 T7ASARI,' Mrs. Jameson's un- 
 
 ' finished review of, 299 
 Vaucluse, 231 
 
 YOK 
 
 Venice, 213 
 
 Verona, the ancient amphitheatre 
 at, 212 
 
 Victoria, Queen, coronation of, 143 ; 
 her admirable demeanour, 146 ; 
 Leslie's picture of her, 153 ; 
 anecdotes concerning her, 1 54 ; 
 her appreciation of Mrs. Jame- 
 son's 'Companion,' 167 ; her visit 
 to Ireland, 250 ; attempt to shoot 
 her, 260 ; grants Mrs. Jameson 
 a yearly pension of ioo/., 266 
 
 'Visits and Sketches,' publication 
 of, 86-89 
 
 WAAGEN, Dr., his essay on 
 Rubens, 148 
 
 Walpole, Lord, 240 
 
 Ware, Rev. William, his ' Letters 
 from Palmyra,' 138 
 
 Warens, Madame de, 45 
 
 Weimar, court of, 76 ; Mrs. Jame- 
 son's life there, 104 
 
 Whitehaven, Mrs. Jameson's resi- 
 dence in, 2 
 
 Windsor, Mrs. Jameson's reflec- 
 tions on, 146 
 
 ' Windsor Beauties,' the, 54 
 
 'Winter Studies and Summer 
 Rambles,' 131, 149, 150, 155, 269 
 
 TTOKELY, Miss, Mrs. Jameson's 
 -*- governess, 7 ; marries her 
 pupil's uncle, 1 1 
 
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 INDEX 
 
 Alley &* Overton's English Church History 15 
 
 Abney'i Photography lo 
 
 Acton's Modern Cookery 20 
 
 Alpine Club Map of Switzerland 17 
 
 Guide (The) 17 
 
 Amos' i Jurisprudence 5 
 
 Primer of the Constitution 5 
 
 50 Years of English Constitution 5 
 
 Andersons Strength of Materials 10 
 
 Armstrong's Organic Chemistry 10 
 
 Arnolds (Dr. ) Lectures on Modem History a 
 
 Miscellaneous Works 7 
 
 Sermons 15 
 
 (T.) English Literature 6 
 
 poetry and Prose ... 6 
 
 9 
 
 19 
 
 Amott's Elements of Physics. 
 Atelier (The) du Lys 
 
 Atherstone Priory 18 
 
 Autumn Holidays of a Country Parson ... 7 
 Ayre's Treasury of Bible Knowledge 20 
 
 Bacon's Essays, by \Vhately 
 
 Life and Letters, by Sfeddin 
 
 S 
 
 iing ... 5 
 
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 Bagehofs Biographical Studies 4 
 
 Economic Studies 21 
 
 Literary Studies 6 
 
 Bailey's Festus, a Poem iS 
 
 Bain's James Mill and J. S. Mill 4 
 
 Mental and Moral Science 6 
 
 on the Senses and Intellect 6 
 
 Emotions and Will 6 
 
 j Baker's Two Works on Ceylon 17
 
 22 
 
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 CO. 
 
 Baits Alpine Guides 17 
 
 Ball's Elements of Astronomy 10 
 
 Barry on Railway Appliances 10 
 
 & Bramwell on Railways, &c 13 
 
 Bauer/nan's Mineralogy 10 
 
 Beacon sfield's (Lord) Novels and Tales 17 & 18 
 
 Speeches i 
 
 Wit and Wisdom 6 
 
 Becker 3 Charicles and Gallus 8 
 
 Beeslys Gracchi, Marius, and Sulla 3 
 
 Bent's Memoir of Garibaldi 4 
 
 Bingham's Bonaparte Marriages 4 
 
 Black's Treatise on Brewing 20 
 
 Blackley's German-English Dictionary 8 
 
 Elaine's Rural Sports 19 
 
 Bloxam's Metals 10 
 
 Bolland and Lang's Aristotle's Politics 5 
 
 Bosco's Italian History by Morell 2 
 
 Boultbee on 39 Articles 15 
 
 's History of the English Church... 15 
 
 Bourne's Works on the Steam Engine 14 
 
 Bawdier s Family Shakespeare 19 
 
 Bramley-Moore 's Six Sisters of the Valleys . 19 
 
 Brande's Diet, of Science, Literature, & Art n 
 
 Brassey's British Navy 13 
 
 Sunshine and Storm in the East . 17 
 
 Voyage of the 'Sunbeam 1 17 
 
 Browne's Exposition of the 39 Articles 15 
 
 Brownings Modern England 3 
 
 Buckle's History of Civilisation 2 
 
 Buckton's Food and Home Cookery 20 
 
 Health in the House 12 
 
 BulTs Hints to Mothers 21 
 
 Maternal Management of Children . 21 
 
 Burgomaster's Family (The) 19 
 
 Buried Alive 18 
 
 Burkes Vicissitudes of Families 4 
 
 Cabinet Lawyer 20 
 
 Capes's Age of the Antonines 3 
 
 Early Roman Empire 3 
 
 Carlyle's Reminiscences 4 
 
 Cates's Biographical Dictionary 4 
 
 Cayley's Iliad of Homer 19 
 
 Changed Aspects of Unchanged Truths ... 7 
 
 Chesney's Waterloo Campaign 2 
 
 Church's Beginning of the Middle Ages ... 3 
 
 Colenso on Moabite Stone &c 16 
 
 's Pentateuch and Book of Joshua. 16 
 
 Commonplace Philosopher 7 
 
 Comte's Positive Polity 5 
 
 Conner's Handbook to the Bible 15 
 
 Conington's Translation of Virgil's ^Eneid 19 
 Contanseau's Two French Dictionaries ...7 & 8 
 
 Conybeare and Howson's St. Paul 15 
 
 Cordery's Struggle against Absolute Mon- 
 archy 3 
 
 Cotta on Rocks, by Lawrence n 
 
 Counsel and Comfort from a City Pulpit... 7 
 
 Cox's (G. W.) Athenian Empire 3 
 
 Crusades 3 
 
 Greeks and Persians 3 
 
 Creighton's Age of Elizabeth 3 
 
 England a Continental Power 3 
 
 Papacy during the Reformation 15 
 
 Shilling History of England ... 3 
 
 Tudors and the Reformation 3 
 
 Cresy's Encyclopaedia of Civil Engineering 14 
 
 Critical Essays of a Country Parson 7 
 
 Culley's Handbook of Telegraphy 14 
 
 Curtels's Macedonian Empire 3 
 
 Davidson s New Testament 13 
 
 De Caisne and Le Maout's Botany 12 
 
 De Tocquevilti s Democracy in America... 2 
 
 Dixon's Rural Bird Life , n 
 
 Dun's American Farming and Food 21 
 
 Eastlake's Foreign Picture Galleries 13 
 
 Hints on Household Taste 14 
 
 Edwards on Ventilation &c 20 
 
 Etticotfs Scripture Commentaries 15 
 
 Lectures on Life of Christ 15 
 
 Elsa and her Vulture 19 
 
 Epochs of Ancient History 3 
 
 English History t 3 
 
 Modern History 3 
 
 Ewald's History of Israel 16 
 
 Antiquities of Israel 16 
 
 Fairbairn's Applications of Iron 14 
 
 Information for Engineers 14 
 
 Mills and Millwork 13 
 
 Farrar's Language and Languages 7 
 
 Fitzwygram on Horses 19 
 
 Francis's Fishing Book 19 
 
 Freeman's Historical Geography 2 
 
 Froude's Caesar 4 
 
 English in Ireland i 
 
 History of England i 
 
 Short Studies 6 
 
 Gairdner's Houses of Lancaster and York 3 
 
 Ganot's Elementary Physics 9 
 
 Natural Philosophy 9 
 
 Gardiner's Buckingham and Charles I. ... 2 
 
 Personal Government of Charles I. 2 
 
 Fall of ditto 2 
 
 Outline of English History ... 2 
 
 Puritan Resolution 3 
 
 Thirty Years' War , 3 
 
 German Home Life 7 
 
 Goethe's Faust, by Birds 18 
 
 bySelss 18 
 
 by Webb 18 
 
 Goodeve's Mechanics 10 
 
 Mechanism 13 
 
 Gore's Electro-Metallurgy 10 
 
 Gospel (The) for the Nineteenth Century . 16 
 
 Grant's Ethics of Aristotle 5 
 
 Graver Thoughts of a Country Parson 7 
 
 Greville's Journal i 
 
 Griffin's Algebra and Trigonometry 10 
 
 Grove on Correlation of Physical Forces... 9 
 
 Gwilt's Encyclopcedia of Architecture 13 
 
 Hales Fall of the Stuarts 3 
 
 Hartwig's Works on Natural History, &c. n 
 
 H assails Climate of San Remo 17 
 
 Haughton's Physical Geography n 
 
 Hayward's Selected Essays 6
 
 WORKS published by LONGMANS 6- CO. 
 
 Heer's Primeval World of Switzerland n 
 
 Helmholtz's Scientific Lectures 9 
 
 Herschels Outlines of Astronomy 8 
 
 Hopkins 3 Christ the Consoler 16 
 
 Horses and Roads 19 
 
 Hoskold's Engineer's Valuing Assistant ... 13 
 
 Hullah's History of Modern Music n 
 
 Transition Period 12 
 
 Hume's Essays 6 
 
 Treatise on Human Nature 6 
 
 Ikne's Rome to its Capture by the Gauls... 3 
 
 History of Rome 2 
 
 Ingelows Poems 18 
 
 Jago's Inorganic Chemistry 12 
 
 Jameson's Sacred and Legendary Art 13 
 
 Jenkins Electricity and Magnetism 10 
 
 Jerrold's Life of Napoleon i 
 
 Johnson's Normans in Europe 3 
 
 Patentee's Manual 21 
 
 Johnston's Geographical Dictionary 8 
 
 Jukes s New Man 16 
 
 Second Death 16 
 
 Types of Genesis 16 
 
 KaliscKs Bible Studies 15 
 
 . Commentary on the Bible 16 
 
 Path and Goal S 
 
 Kellers Lake Dwellings of Switzerland.... u 
 
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 Knatchbull-Hugesseri s Fairy-Land 18 
 
 Higgledy-Piggledy 18 
 
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 Macaulays (Lord) Essays i 
 
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 Cheap Edition... 18 
 
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 Elements of Banking 21 
 
 Elements of Economics 21 
 
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 Mademoiselle Mori 19 
 
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 General History of Rome a 
 
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 Romans under the Empire a 
 
 Merrifteld's Arithmetic and Mensuration... 10 
 
 Miles on Horse's Foot and Horse Shoeing 19 
 
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 Leslie's Political and Moral Philosophy ... 6 
 
 Lessons of Middle Age 7 
 
 Lewes's History of Philosophy 3 
 
 Lewis on Authority 6 
 
 Liddell and Scott's Greek-English Lexicons 8 
 
 Lindley and Moore's Treasury of Botany ... 20 
 
 Lloyd's Magnetism 9 
 
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 Frederic the Great 3 
 
 Longmans (F. W. ) German Dictionary ... 8 
 
 (W.) Edward the Third 2 
 
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 Lyra Germanica 16 Nelson on the Moon 8 
 
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 Wintering in the Riviera 17 
 
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 Mitchells Manual of Assaying 14 
 
 Modern Novelist's Library 18 & 19 
 
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 Lalla Rookh, Illustrated Edition.. 13 
 
 Morris's Age of Anne 3 
 
 Mailer's Chips from a German Workshop. 7 
 
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 Science of Religion 16 
 
 Selected Essays 7
 
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 Rutley's Study of Rocks 10 
 
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 Savile on Apparitions 7 
 
 Seaside Musings 7 
 
 Scott's Farm Valuer 21 
 
 Rents and Purchases 21 
 
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 1778-1820 3 
 
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