Grace Darling by Eva Hope (people reading books .txt) 📕

since, he will win a true heart if he contrive to keep her affections. Those who have accidentally risen are, in general, the least inclined to stoop; and if she do not number suitors with Miss Burdett Coutts or Queen Victoria herself, Malthus or Martineau, one, or both of them, must answer for it. Meanwhile with Grace Darling we have no quarrel; and if her modesty only outlive the honours heaped upon her, we shall be the first to acknowledge that her courage has deserved them."

Many a laugh, we may be sure, had the lighthouse-family over such articles, though there can be no doubt that the good sense of Grace caused her to take advantage of every lesson taught to her, whether by words of praise or blame. We cannot, perhaps, exalt her deed too highly, but it should always be borne in mind, that she would have been just as good a girl if the "Forfarshire" had never been wrecked on the coast of the Farne Islands. Grace was heroic already, but the catastrophe brought her qualities of courage, endurance, and humanity, to the front. One feels glad to know that all the praise did not make her other than the humble British girl, though few, perhaps, could pass through such an ordeal of adulation unscathed. The flatteries had, however, a ludicrous as well as a touching side, as may be seen from the following extract. Hero-worship leads to the hoarding of many things, including bark of trees, stones, mortar, old rags, and hair; and it is little wonder if Grace found the latter tendency rather inconvenient.

"Grace Darling's name is now as well known throughout the island as Queen Anne's; and to tell people of the decease of the one is about as necessary as to warn them of the living glory of the other. Grace is the admired of all admirers, and far is it from us to wish her grace diminished in men's eyes, or herself less a darling than she is at present. But the enthusiasm of gratitude and idolatry is becoming somewhat alarming. We know not how the persons who, principally by her intrepidity, were saved from the wreck of the 'Forfarshire,' may feel towards their 'good angel in the hour of fate,' but every body else seems to think of her as one to whom they owe the life of some being related to themselves by blood, and inestimably prized by affection. The universal feeling in this case shows us how truly

'One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.'

"All feel individually grateful to Grace Darling; and not a stranger that talks of her but knows her intimately. But, as we have said, the expression of this feeling of love and reverence is assuming an awkward character. It has taken, it appears, the shape or shapes of infinite demands upon her generosity in a minor way—of countless and incalculable requests addressed to her by admirers of heroism, whenever stirred out of their arm chairs but to accommodate themselves, and trumpeters of intrepidity who have fainted at the bare idea of getting wet-footed, that she will be so exceedingly self-devoted and munificent as to clip from her head a curl—just one—as a token by which her name and nature may be identified and treasured up; just one ringlet—one apiece, for upwards of ten thousand applicants scattered over various parts of the kingdom, but all linked together by a common sentiment. The last report is (we quote the newspapers) that Grace is nearly bald; that lock after lock has gone, each finding its way into ring, brooch, or locket, until

'The Darling of life's crew'

discovers, like Caesar, that a laurel crown may be worn for use as well as ornament—may hide as well as adorn. Really, a lock at a time is an extravagance—a hair should suffice; for if ever it could be said that

'Beauty draws us by a single hair,'

it may be said of the moral beauty of Grace Darling.

"It is impossible to guard ourselves against the tendencies to enthusiastic devotion for the living life preserver, because the very name is a provocative. Were two such words ever before combined to form a name?—the one expressing the natural quality of the bearer of it, and the other defining what her deeds have made her in the regard of others."

Not only was Grace Darling herself likely to be made bald by the request of her loving admirers, but those who belonged to her shared the same inconvenience. One of her younger brothers was away at sea, and did not know of his sister's fame until he came into the Thames. No sooner, however, was his name heard than he had to answer a number of questions. Did he know anything of the Longstone lighthouse? Had he a sister? Was the great Grace Darling any relation to him? As soon as it was known that he really belonged to the same family, he was himself exalted into a hero of the second class, and people thronged round to look at, admire, and cross-question him. The young fellow bore it all very good-humouredly—in fact, he rather liked it. But after a time his numerous and newly-found friends conceived the idea of possessing a lock of the Darling hair, and the young man could not well refuse so flattering a request. So one helped herself, and told her friend, who told his friend, and so it went on; and the end was, that young Darling, who possessed a curly head of hair, became completely, and rather irregularly shorn.

We give two other extracts from papers that appeared at the time, or soon after. The following is from the "Spectator:"—

"It is not often that heroines of real life possess the adventitious attractions of a pretty name, or a charming person; but Grace Darling has both. She would unquestionably have been loved and admired as heartily had she been Dorothy Dobbs, with a wide mouth, snub nose, and a squint; but it is pleasant to find coupled with a fine and generous nature, a lovely face, and a name at once euphonious and cherishable. Grace Darling! Poet or novelist need not desire one better fitted to bestow on a paragon of womanhood; we would see it embalmed in a sonnet by Wordsworth, or a lyric by Campbell; but it will live in our land's language, even if not immortalised in song."

The "Sunderland Herald," of November 22nd, contained the following interesting article on the Darlings:—

"Grace Darling, the heroine of the day, was born on the 24th of November, 1815; consequently she will be twenty-three on Saturday, the 24th inst. She is rather short in stature, being only five feet two and a half inches in height, but well proportioned. Her features are admirably adapted for the skill of the painter, and equally so for the chisel of the sculptor. She is modest and remarkably pleasant in her manners, and perfectly free from the shy awkward gait of country girls in general. And you will be surprised when I inform you, that there is excellent accommodation to be met with at the Longstone lighthouse, although it stands alone, upon a barren rock, five miles from the mainland. The tower is very ingeniously constructed, and contains a well-furnished sitting room, in which is a capital collection of popular works, and three or four comfortable bedrooms. These, with an abundance of good, wholesome, homely fare, together with the very cheerful service of Grace and her parents, render a visit to the Farne Islands a treat of no ordinary description. Grace was taught to read and write by her father, together with seven of her brothers and sisters; and their school-room was the lantern of the lighthouse.

"William Darling, the father of Grace, is only in the fifty-fourth year of his age, though he looks much older His face reminds me of the late Thomas Stothard, R.A., the painter of the Canterbury Pilgrimage, and his person, of the venerable Earl Grey. He reads much, and is most passionately fond of natural history.

"Mrs. Darling is a hale, comely old lady, bordering on threescore, and may be found engaged three parts of the day at her spinning wheel. It is true she assisted to make ready the boat at day-break, on the morning of the melancholy wreck of the 'Forfarshire,' but her heart failed when her husband and child pushed off; and, as the wave receded from the rock on which she stood trembling, with tears she exclaimed, 'Oh, Grace, if your father is lost, I'll blame a' you for this morning's work?' And who would censure the mother under such circumstances, especially when the fact is known, that she was left alone on the island to witness their struggles as they crossed a pass between the Longstone rocks and those on which the surviving sufferers of the ill-fated 'Forfarshire' were anxiously looking out for help? The particulars of that noble deed have already been published, but I happen to have a newspaper account of another heroic action by the same family, which took place in the month of December, 1834, and was thus noticed in the 'Berwick Advertiser':—

"On Saturday night, December 27th, about eleven o'clock, the sloop 'Autumn,' of Peterhead, coal-laden, ran upon the Naestone rock, outside the Farne Islands, and immediately sunk; the master, in endeavouring to get the boat launched, unfortunately went down with the sloop! The other two men (being the whole of the crew), clung to the mast and topmast, and as the tide receded, descended the ship's deck, and finally, about four o'clock in the morning, the rock appeared, which they got upon, and remained there till about eight o'clock, when they were discovered by the lighthouse-keeper, Darling, who most providentially, having his three sons with him spending their Christmas, got out their boat, and got alongside the rock about nine o'clock (half an hour before it was covered by the returning tide), and with great exertion succeeded in getting a rope thrown to one of the men, who, having lashed himself, was dragged through the sea to the boat; the other poor fellow, having previously died upon the fatal rock, was left there. With very great exertions Darling and his sons gained the lighthouse, having broken two of their oars whilst attempting to approach the rock; and thus crippled, they got a small sail set, but the wind being against them, they had much difficulty in regaining the island. Very great praise is due to Darling and his sons for their great exertions—having run a considerable risk in approaching the rock with a heavy sea. A signal gun upon each island where the lighthouses are, would be of very great use in cases of accidents of this sort, when assistance could be immediately had from North Sunderland, Bamborough, or Holy Island—for had it not been for the circumstance of Darling's sons being there, this poor fellow must inevitably have perished."

We are sure that the birthday of the heroine referred to in the above extracts was celebrated in many a home, and that hundreds of thousands of people wished her many happy returns of the day, a wish which, however, was not to be realised. But there can be no doubt that the day was a most happy one to her; for it is not many who, looking back upon a past year, can think of any good deed that deserves to stand side by side with that of Grace Darling.

The following birthday lines were written for her by Mr. J. G. Grant, of Sunderland:—-

"Maid of the Isle, heroic Grace!
'Midst desert rocks and tempests thrown,
As though in sternest clime and place,
Where life and man have scarce a trace,
Maternal Nature would embrace
A heroine of her own!

"Methinks, while yet in cradled sleep,
She loved and destined thee to be
A dweller of the craggy steep,
A watcher of the stormy deep,
And bade its wild waves nurse and keep
Thy heart