USA > Maryland > Biographical sketches of distinguished Marylanders > Part 20
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FRANCIS SCOTT KEY.
of mind, and charmed with all the attractions of virtue ; who could descend at will from the highest soaring in the regions of Fancy, and be found foremost in the steepest ascents of the paths of Science; he who had here caught
' the glow, The warmth divine that poet's know,'
and whose lyre, upon a theme that tonched these scenes of his inspiration, would have poured forth its most impassioned strains, and compelled the hearts that elo- quence could not subdue to bow to the magic of his song. He, too, the ornament of St. John's, and the leader of her tenth legion, (John Shaw, M. D., of An- napolis), has had our tears, and sleeps not in an honored grave but beneath the wave of the ocean.
"Nor can he be forgotten, (Henry M. Murray, of An- napolis), the last, but not least lamented of our departed brethren, who would have been among the foremost to offer the feelings of a warm heart and the powers of a gifted mind to the labors to which I have invited you. Who had already done so, and stands enrolled in the records of the College, among those who repaid, by their counsels at her board, the honors she had bestowed. Whose zeal and ability would have performed more than his share of the duty, while his unassuming and gener- ous nature would have refused any portion of the praise. The awful Providence which removed him, in the midst of life and usefulness, from the profession he adorned, the society he blessed, and the friends he delighted, has called upon our College to mourn the double loss of an honored son and a devoted patron. But it becomes us not to murmur under this mysterious dispensation- rather to be thankful that it has left to console and animate us a cherished memory and a high example."
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BIRD-SONG.
BY W. L. SHOEMAKER.
COME hither-oh, come hither ! Were the words that I heard ringing On a sunny day of May, When the flowers around were springing, And the earth was green and gay, From a tiny bird above, Who was calling to his love- Who was longing to be with her On that sunny day of May ; Calling, calling, loudly calling, Come hither-oh, come hither !- Come hither !
Come hither-oh, come hither ! I was walking sad and lonely, O'er the hills and far away, Meditating of one only, Who is fairer than the May ; And anon my weary heart In the carol took a part It was longing to be with her, O'er the hills and far away, Calling, calling, ever calling, Come hither-oh, come hither !- Come hither !
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BIRD-SONG.
Come hither-oh, come hither! And the singer's mate hied to him, That she love for love might pay ; 'Mid a thousand birds she knew him, As she knew his silver lay. Though the maiden I adore Was as far off as before, I was longing to be with her, That she love for love might pay; Calling, calling, vainly calling, Come hither-oh, come hither !- Come hither !
GEORGETOWN, D. C.
AMELIA B. WELBY.
"The magic of the lyre's uxteachable As music of the spheres : It is the inborn fire of soul's elect."-Stella.
F this writer, Edgar A. Poe says: (though due allowance is to be made for his overmastering prejudices.)
" Mrs. Amelia Welby has nearly all the imagination of Maria del Occidente with a more refined taste; and nearly all the passion of Mrs. Norton, with a nicer ear, and (what is surprising) equal art. Very few American poets are at all comparable with her in the true poetic qualities. As for our poetesses, (an ab- surd but necessary word) few approach her." In this, Poe asserts overmuch. The melodious flow of musical words like the summer-song of a wood-brook is always noticeable in the poems of Amelia B. Welby. Her song is clear and bird-like; her Fancy, pure and free, floats on unsullied wings beneath a blue sky never darkened by a cloud. Mrs. Norton's nature is nearer akin to the Ocean, while in fancy she soars rather than floats.
It is, of course, preferable to the teller of a story that the heroine thereof be superior to the heroines of all other stories, yet facts cannot be honestly denied. To claim for Mrs. Welby "equal art" with Mrs. Norton, is an injustice to the latter. Save that they are both worshipers at the shrine of the Muses, little else can be
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AMELIA B. WELBY.
found in common between them. The English poet, whose sad strong words return and haunt us,
"Like echoes that have lost themselves among the distant hills," mounts higher and nearer to that shrine, as her thoughts and will partake more of the rock-bound heights on which it stands.
Amelia B. Welby was born on the 3d of February, 1819, at the village of Saint Michael's, on the Miles river, Talbot county, Maryland. Her father's name was Coppuck. He was an ingenius journeyman mechanic, who hammered and toiled through the live-long day, while the unconscious baby-poet slept peacefully in its humble cradle. While Amelia was still an infant, she was taken to the neighborhood of Baltimore city, where she remained until 1834; from thence, Destiny led the way to Louisville, Kentucky, where she first became known as a poetess. Of this sweet child of the Muses, Ben Casseday says: "Her education was not thorough, her mind was not disciplined by study, nor was her reading at all extensive; yet in spite of all these disad- vantages, her poetry is perfect in rythm and harmony, and is never blemished by any fault either of Rhetoric or of Grammar. In the most impressible part of her ear- lier life she was surrounded by a great deal that was grand and beautiful in Nature, and most of her poetic images refer to those surroundings. Her first publica- tion was in 1837, she being then hardly eighteen years old."
George D. Prentice, the editor of the Louisville Jour- nal, a great-hearted gentleman, gave, like the poet Bryant, welcome to "blithe new comers." He desired that the young genius of his country should be devel- oped, and to this end gave all aid within his power. The success of "Amelia's" writings was marked, yet it is to be feared that the charm that won for them the
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AMELIA B. WELBY.
popular favor of that day would scarcely be recognized as generally in 1875. Of this charm Mr. Casseday says :
"The sweetness and naturalness of her melodies caught every ear and warmed every heart. They reached all the better feelings of her readers, because they so evidently flowed fresh from her own. Her poetry was the result of a pure afflatus, and had never been meas- ured by the frigid rules of art. She sang because it was given her to sing; her melodies were like the voices of the birds-they were the simple outgushing of her own pure nature. She did not reach the higher forms of art, nor did she attempt them. Her song was a sim- ple measure, learned of the trill of the brooklet, of the rustle of the leaves, or of the deep and solemn murmur of the ocean."
In June, 1838, Miss Coppuck became the wife of Geo. Welby, Esq., a prominent merchant of Louisville.
The first edition of her poems appeared in Boston in 1845. In 1846 the Appletons published a second edi- tion, and many new editions have appeared since that time. Of her personal appearance Mr. Casseday writes :
"Mrs. Welby was rather above than below the mid- dle height. Slender and exceedingly graceful in form, with exquisite taste in dress, and a certain easy, floating sort of movement, she would at once be recognized as a beautiful woman.
"A slight imperfection in the upper lip, while it prevented her face from being perfect, yet gave a pecu- liar piquancy to its expression which was far from de- stroying any of its charms. Her hair was exquisitely beautiful, and was always arranged, regardless of the prevailing fashion, with singular elegance and adapta- tion to her face and figure. Her manners were simple, natural and impulsive, like those of a child. Her con- versation, though sometimes frivolous, was always
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AMELIA B. WELBY.
charming. Her social life was full of innocent gaiety and playfulness."
The moon within our casement beams, Our blue-eyed babe hath dropped to sleep, And I have left it to its dreams Amid the shadows deep, To muse beside the silver tide, Whose waves are rippling at thy side.
It is a still and lovely spot Where they have laid thee down to rest ;
The white rose and forget-me-not Bloom sweetly on thy breast, And birds and streams with liquid lull Have made the stillness beautiful.
And softly through the forest bars Light lovely shapes on glossy plumes, Float ever in, like winged stars, Amid the purpling glooms ; Their sweet songs borne from tree to tree, Thrill the light leaves with melody.
Alas ! the very path I trace, In happier hours thy footstep made; This spot was once thy resting place ; Within the silent shade Thy white hand trained the fragrant bough That drops its blossoms o'er thee now.
Of this poem, only partly given here, Poe has taken especial notice in his " Literati." Quite an elaborate criticism on this single poem terminates thus: "Upon the whole, there are some poets in America (Bryant and Sprague for example) who equal Mrs. Welby in the negative merits of that limited versification which they chiefly affect-the iambie pentameter-but none equal her in the richer and positive merits of rhythmical variety, conception-invention. They, in the old rou-
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tine, rarely err. She often surprises, and always delights, by novel, rich and accurate combination of the ancient musical expressions."
Her imagination did not wander alone uncurbed in the realms of Poetry. She descended sometimes to the more practical prose, yet the following has little of the practical save in the sound of the name. This, too, is contributed by Ben Casseday in "The Ladies' Reposi- tory:"
"She had been visited at her residence by a party of gay masqueraders, among whom was a very intimate friend costumed as a Turk, and bearing the euphonious soubriquet of Hamet Ali Ben Khorassen. On the day after this visit Mrs. Welby received from this pseudo Pashaw a note of farewell, written in the redundant style of the Orientals, to which the following is her answer :
" Although a stranger to the graceful style of Oriental greeting, Amelia, the daughter of the Christian, would send to Hamet Ali Ben Khorassen, ere he departs from the midst of her people, a few words in token of farewell, and also in acknowledgment of the flowery epistle sent by the gallant Ben Khorassen to the 'Bulbul of the Giaour Land,' as he is pleased, in the poetical language of his country, to designate the humblest of his admir- ers! Like the sudden splendor of a dazzling meteor, gleaming before the delighted eye of the startled gazer, was the brief sojourn of the noble Ben Khorassen in the presence of the happy 'Bulbul.' He came before her uniting in his aspect the majesty of a god of old with the mien of a mortal-graceful in his step, winning in his words, yet ' terrible as an army with banners.' The song of the 'Bulbul ' was hushed ; the words of greeting died upon her lip. But now that the mightiest of the mighty has withdrawn from her dazzled gaze the glory
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AMELIA B. WELBY. 289
of his overpowering presence, the trembling 'Bulbul' lifts her head once more like a drooping flower oppressed by the too powerful rays of the noontide sun; and in the midst of the gloom that overshadows her, recalls to mind every word and look of the gallant Ben Khorassen, till her thoughts of him arise like stars upon the hori- zon of her memory, lighting up the gloom of his absence, and glittering upon the waters of the fountain of her heart, whose every murmur is attuned to the music of his memory.
"But the bark of Hamet Ali Ben Khorassen floats upon the waters with her white wings spread for the clime of the crescent. Her brilliant pennon streams from the strand, and the words of the 'Bulbul' must falter into a farewell. May the favoring gales of para- dise, fragrant as the breath of houris, fill the silken sails of Ben Khorassen, and waft him onward to his native groves of citron and of myrtle, waking thoughts in his bosom fresh and fragrant as the flowers that cluster in his clime! Thus prays Amelia, the daughter of the Christian, and the 'Bulbul of the Giaour Land " Fare- well !"
Her recognition of the talents of others of her day and time, proves a generous nature. To Stella, the young author of " The Records of the Heart," she wrote as follows:
"I love you though I have never seen you. You have genius and will make a great name. That is the hope of the ambitious poet, but I would rather have the love of one high great soul than all the literary fame the world can bestow."
In this acknowledgment of a good and lovely woman to a younger writer, whose work was but just begun, how much may not be due in the aid that kindly words give to the young pilgrim? The genius of " Stella,"
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AMELIA B. WELBY.
in the year 1875, irradiates the page of the life-drama of Sappho, the poet of Mytilene.
In the month of May, 1852, amid its tender blossoms and softest songs, she, whose brief story is here given, sped away into a land of eternal beauty, whose peace " passeth all understanding."
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THE WATCH.
BY FRANCES MARIE COLE. -
L' ONG on the slipping shingles at high tide I watched the coming of your tardy sail- Scanning the world of breakers wild and wide, Until the sunset fires burned low and pale.
At last the hoarded sands lost glint and gold, And stretched in ghastly pallo: far around, And distant on the waters gleaming cold, I beard the drogers singing, shoreward bound.
"And sailing, a gailing," the song was one That told of gracious sea and tender wind, How her love's sail was speeding in the sun With calm before and not a cloud behind.
Adown the coast the steady beacon-light Burned like a ruby in the light-house spire; Below, the thunderous sweeps, vexed, shuddering white, Were lit with broken threads of mocking fire.
With wildest thoughts I filled the weary watch ; I wondered if kind heaven's brightest stars Hlad fallen earthward, if the waves would snatch A tithe that vanished on the harbor bars.
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THE WATCH.
"He does not come" lamented thus the sea, And wailed of perils in a mad affright ; And when a vessel passed it seemed to be A phantom floating in the moonless night.
No storms between, and still I thought of wreck, And pallid sleepers on the restless sand, Untii afar I marked a flying speck,
And knew your boat was bearing to the land.
Safe to the shore at last ! O, drogers sing Again of gracious sea and tender wind,
Of distant ships that love and prayer can bring With calm before and not a cloud behind !
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FREDERICK PINKNEY.
REDERICK PINKNEY was the fourth son of William Pinkney, the famous scholar and statesman. He was born the 14th of October, 1804, on board the Brig Mary, on which his parents were returning from England to their native land. He gave proofs of a strong intellect at an early age.
His education was obtained principally at the Balti- more College, under the direction at that time of Henry Knox, and at Saint Mary's College in Baltimore city, where he graduated in the year 1822. He pursued the study of Law under Judge Purviance, and was admitted to the Bar in the autumn of 1825. Though experienc- ing a severe loss in the death of his father, in 1822, he kept unerringly on his well-chosen way.
The Hon. J. H. B. Latrobe, says of this "old- fashioned gentleman ": " Without taking an active part in the current business of his profession, he has not left behind him his equal, certainly not his su- perior in the learning of Criminal Law. His accuracy in this connection was proverbial, nor was it his only accomplishment. Quiet and unassuming, one would hardly have imagined that the grave, white-bearded man, who, with his eyes fixed on the ground, with a portfolio under his arm, was as familiar to us all as he
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FREDERICK PINKNEY.
passed with uncertain gait to and from his office, was a genial-tempered gentleman of a quaint and ready wit, fond of Art, not inapt himself in this particular, and possessing a rare fund of information on all subjects under the sun."
When the announcement of his death was made in the Criminal Court, A. Leo Knott, Esq., said :
"Duty was to him an exacting creditor to whom he made it a point of honor to owe nothing. Every man, says Bacon, is a debtor to his profession. It can be said, I think, of Frederick Pinkney, that when he died he had discharged all his obligations to it fully. But it was not only in the ranks of his profession as a lawyer that Mr. Pinkney labored and distinguished himself. He was an accomplished classical scholar. A graduate of Saint Mary's College in this city, he there imbibed that taste for Greek and Roman litera- ture that remained with him through life, that was the entertainment of his youth and manhood, and the solace of his age. . Of his heart, how shall I speak ? Those who enjoyed his intimacy knew its worth, and will forever cherish agreeable and grate- ful recollections of his generosity, his unselfishness, his devotion to his family, his zeal for. his friends, his in- corruptible honesty, his chivalric sense of honor."
He was associated with his brother, Edward Coote Pinkney, in the publication of a paper known as the " Marylander," which paper soon ended its career. He was the editor of a newspaper called the "Chronicle," and the assistant editor of the "Baltimore Patriot." His many contributions to the journals and magazines of the day, were principally of a poetic nature.
In strong contrast to the wild, restless spirit of his Poet-brother, the calm beauty of his muse reveals the high hope of his soul :
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FREDERICK PINKNEY.
" As distant isles on kings bestow Some petty tribute, which is sent Not for its value, but to show How wide their empire has extent,
"I send this little gift to thee, An offering to a sovereign fair, In token that I am not free From chains that all delight to wear."
Could other than a poet have expressed so purely, yet so gracefully and earnestly the gentler feelings of his heart ?
Each and all of his poems express the depth of a pure and unsullied love, flowing unceasingly on to the goal of good and holy aims.
Through all the nameless trials of life he retained in peace that wisdom of the heart that relies upon God, who "stilleth the noise of the seas, the noise of their waves, and the tumults of the people."
On the 12th of December, 1862, he wrote:
" Upon Moriah's Temple high Glittered the golden vine, With it earth's treasures could not vie Should kings their powers combine.
" A single berry or a leaf Each worshipper bestowed,
Till spreading wide in thick relief The pendant treasure glowed.
" And thou, when earnest Duty draws And asks an offering slight, Wilt thou in pride refuse because Thy gift must be a mite ?"
Mr. Pinkney was for many years one of the commis- sioners of the high courts of chancery, and after the abolition of that court he was made one of the com-
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FREDERICK PINKNEY.
missioners of the Circuit Court of Baltimore, which office he held at the time of his death. He was ap- pointed as an assistant to the Attorney General and deputy Attorney General for Baltimore county under the administration of Attorney General Richardson, and his successors, Mr. Gwinn, Mr. Whitney and Mr. Knott. The last-mentioned office he held for thirty years.
In 1861 his sympathy with the movement of the Confederates caused him to resign his position of deputy to the State's Attorney. His great worth and unblem- ished integrity, however, induced his reappointment to the same office by Mr. Gwinn, in 1867.
Like his distinguished father, he continued to the last days of his life the cultivation of his intellectual faculties, regarding what is termed the "finishing" of an education but as its beginning.
He read and translated from the Greek authors almost daily, speaking that language, as well as the Latin, with great fluency. He was as familiar with the tongue of France as with English, and was perfectly conversant with the best French authors.
His fondness for those old English authors, who were the leading writers in the days of his youth, never waned. The beauties of Thackeray and Dickens he failed to appreciate, which possibly may be counted amongst the peculiarities of his character for which he was noted.
He was accomplished as an artist with the pencil and India-ink. He was also skillful as an eugraver upon wood.
HIe often regretted the lack of time that prevented him from devoting himself to the study of Chemistry and the natural sciences.
He contemplated writing a history of Rome, also a
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FREDERICK PINKNEY.
Digest of the Criminal Law of Maryland. These projects were never carried into effect, and any manuscripts pre- pared by him must have been destroyed previous to his death.
Among the many who pressed forward to utter aloud their deep feelings of love and honor for the dead, were Reverdy Johnson and S. Teackle Wallis; and having enumerated his great talents and various accomplish- ments, they, with the many, concluded the record with a reference to what is most in worth in the history of a life : His love of God, his alms to the poor, his care of the helpless, and beyond all things, that general charity of word and deed, which "covereth a multitude of sins."
A son of Mr. Pinkney having fought in the Army of the South, the following poem will possess for the reader a greater interest than it would otherwise have claimed. As the poet partly expresses in song what he could not tell in the ordinary language of Man, that which can never be fully told, may partly be understood:
THE SOUTHERN MATRON TO HER SON.
I weep, as I leave you, with bitter emotion, Yet view me in kindness, refraining from blame, My tears are the tribute of anxious devotion,
I would not withhold thee from duty and fame; When thy Country, in peril, has called thee to aid her, Though my heart may, at parting, with sadness o'erflow, Yet undaunted go forth to meet the invader,
I will not detain thee, oh, no, my Love, no !
To the march and the battle, all heedless of danger, Be enduring and firm, and the foremost in fight,
For the fair, sunny South, meet the hireling and stranger, And strike for thy Country, thy Home and thy Right. Away to the combat, lest Liberty perish,
And proudly lead on in the charge on the foc,
The fame of their Soldier the rescued shall cherish,
They could not forget thee, oh, no, my Love, no ! 25
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FREDERICK PINKNEY.
The cheek may be pale, and the eye dimmed with sorrow, When the converse and view of the loved are denied, From our Cause and thy conduct I comfort shall borrow,
I may grieve, but my grief will be tempered with pride; For the brow of the hero the laurel is braiding, And blessings and praises the Land shall bestow,
Thou soon shalt return decked with glory unfading,
I will not detain thee, oh, no, my Love, no! February 12th, 1862.
Frederick Pinkney died June 13th, 1873, and was buried from the Church of Saint Barnabas, in Baltimore city.
To S.
D OST thou love me ? I heed not, though Fortune may lower, Though my friends may abandon, and foes may have power, From the thraldom of sorrow and care I am free, And I turn unrepining and smiling to thee.
When forewarned that the enemy fain would surprise, To the strong mountain-fastness the fugitive hies, And he laughs as they clamor, pursuing in wrath, With the blood-hound loud baying too late on his patb.
There abundance is garnered, its walls are secure, And the deep well has springs both unfailing and pure, There the weary may rest, and the timid may hide, And the siege and assault may alike be deficd.
I have one who will follow in sunshine or shade, On whose faith I may venture and not be betrayed, Uncomplaining in evil, my fate thou wilt share, And warn me, and counsel, and save from despair.
FREDERICK PINKNEY.
December 30th, 1850.
GEORGE H. MILES.
MONGST her many poets, Maryland claims George Miles as one of her sweetest, if not her strongest singers. He was born in Balti- more city, ou the 31st day of July, 1824.
He was sent, at the age of nine years, to the College of Mount Saint Mary, at Emmittsburg, among the beau- tiful hills of the Blue Ridge. He graduated at eighteen. He entered the office of the Hon. J. H. B. Latrobe as a law student; yet the jealous Muse, with her tender woo- ing, drew him from the sterner pursuits of Life into the flower-strewn paths of Poetry. At the age of twenty he competed for the prize of $1,000, offered by Edwin For- rest, for a tragedy. His "play" of Mohammed was accepted by Mr. Forrest, and George Miles received the reward. This early success enticed him from the prac- tice of the Law. He wrote for J. E. Murdock, the actor, a play entitled " Hernando de Soto," which, as a stage piece, was deemed successful; this was written about 1850. In 1861 he wrote for Laura Keene, what was first known as " Uncle Sam's Magic Lantern," but was afterwards modified under the title of " The Seven Sis- ters." This ran for two years during the War, at Laura Keene's Theatre, in New York. He dramatized the story of " Elsie Venner," by Oliver Wendell Holmes ;
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