of the book, I said, indeed, what every one says (and most justly) — that nothing could be more intensely pathetic. In respect, however, to the “Poetical Remains”, the tone of my observations was not in accordance with the mass of my contemporaries. Without calling in question the precocity of the child, I was forced to dissent from that extravagant eulogium which had its origin, beyond doubt, in a confounding of the interest felt in the personal poetess and her sad fortunes, with a legitimate admiration of her works. I did not, in truth, conceive it to be either honest or necessary, to mislead, in any degree, the public taste or opinion, by styling “Lenore”, as it exists, a fine poem, merely because its author might have written a fine poem had she lived, I emphasize the “might”; for the history of all intellect demonstrates that the point is a questionable one indeed, The analogies of Nature are universal; and just as the most rapidly-growing herbage is the most speedy in its decay — just as the ephemeron struggles to perfection in a day, only to perish in that day’s decline — so is the mind early matured, only to be early in its decadence; and when we behold, in the eye of infancy, the soul of the adult, it is but indulging a day-dream to hope for any farther proportionate development. Should the prodigy survive to ripe age, a mental imbecility, not far removed from idiocy itself, is too frequently the result. From this rule, the exceptions are rare indeed; but it should be observed that when the exception does occur, the intellect is of a Titan cast, even to the days of its extreme senility, and acquires renown not in one, but in all the wide fields of fancy and of reason.
The most elaborate production of Margaret is the “Lenore” of which I have just spoken. It was written not long before her death — at the age of fifteen — after patient reflection — with much care — and with all that high resolve to do something for fame with which the reputation of her sister, Lucretia had inspired her. Under such circumstances, and with the early poetical education which she could not have failed to receive, I confess that, granting her a little more than average talent, it would have been rather a matter for surprise had she produced a worse, than had she produced a better poem than “Lenore”. Its length, viewed in connexion with its keeping, its unity, its adaptation, and its completeness (and all these are points having reference to artistical knowledge, and preseverance) will impress the critic more favorably than its fancy, or any other indication of poetic power, In all the more important qualities, I have seen far — very far finer poems than “Lenore” written at a much earlier age than fifteen.
“Amir Khan”, the longest and chief composition of Lucretia, has been long known to the reading public, It was originally published, with other poems, in a small volume to which Professor Morse, of the American Society of Arts, contributed a Preface. Partly through the influence of the Professor, yet no doubt partly through >>its<< own merits, the book found its way to the laureate, Southey; who, after his peculiar fashion, and not unmindful of his previous furores in the case of Kirke White, Chatterton, and others of precocious ability, or at least celebrity, thought proper to review it in the Quarterly. This was at a period when we humbled ourselves, with a subserviency which would have been disgusting had it not been ludicrous, before the crudest critical dicta of Great Britain. It pleased the laureate, after some squibbing in the way of demurrer, to speak of the book in question as follows: — ”In these poems there is enough of growing power, to warrant any expectations, however sanguine, which the patrons and the friends and parents of the deceased could have formed.” — Meaning nothing — or rather meaning anything as we choose to interpret it — this sentence was still sufficient (and indeed the half of it would have been more than sufficient) to establish, upon an immoveable basis, the reputation of Miss Davidson in America.