Text: Edgar Allan Poe, “Mary E. Hewitt”, from Literary America, 1848, manuscript

[page 59:]

Mary E. Hewitt.

I am not aware that Mrs. Hewitt has written any prose; but her poems have been many, and occasionally excellent. A collection of them was published, about two years ago, in an exquisitely tasteful form, by Ticknor & Co., of Boston. The leading piece, entitled “Songs of our Land”, although the longest, was by no means the most meritorious. In general, these compositions evince poetic fervor, classicism, and keen appreciation of both moral and physical beauty. No one of them, perhaps, can be judiciously commended as a whole; but no one of them is without merit, and there are several which would do credit to any poet in the land. Still, even these latter are particularly rather than generally commendable. They lack unity, totality — ultimate effect, but abound in forcible passages. For example:

Mrs. Hewitt has warm partialities for the sea and all that concerns it. Many of her best poems turn upon sea adventures or have reference to a maritime life. Some portions of her “God bless the Mariner” are naïve and picturesque: E.g. —

The tone of some quatrains entitled “Alone”, differs materially from that usual with Mrs. Hewitt. The idea is happy and well managed:

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The merit of this piece, however, is greatly obscured first, by its frequent inversions and, secondly, by its rythmical defects. The lines,

and

might easily have been written, with directness, “Amid its chill and dread”, etc., and “Glance on the stone above its waves”. The putting the adjective after the noun is an inexcusable Gallicism; but the putting the preposition after the noun is alien to all language and in opposition to all its principles. Such things, in general, only betray the versifier's poverty of resource; and when an inversion occurs we usually say to ourselves — “Here the poet lacked the skill to make out his line without distorting the natural or colloquial order of the words”. Now and then, however, we must refer the error not to deficiency of skill, but to something far less defensible — to an idea that such things belong to the essence of poetry — that it needs them to distinguish it from prose — and that we are poetical very much in the ratio of our unprosaicalness at these points. Even while employing the [page 62:] phrase “poetic licence” — a phrase which has to answer for an infinity of sins — people who think in this way seem to have an indistinct conviction that the licence in question involves within itself a necessity of being adopted. The true artist will avail himself of no “licence” whatever. The very word will startle and disqust him; for it says: “Since you appear unable to manage without these pecadillo advantages, you must have them, I suppose, and the world, half shutting its eyes, will do its best not to see the awkwardness which they stamp upon your poem.” Few things have greater tendency than inversion to render verse feeble and ineffective. In most cases where a line is spoken of as “forcible”, the force may be referred to the directness of expression. A vast majority of the passages which have become household through frequent quotation, owe their popularity either to this directness, or, in general, to the scorn of poetic licence. In short, as regards verbal construction, the more prosaic a poetical style is, the better. Through this species of prosacism Cowper, with scarcely one of the high or poetical elements, came very near making his age fancy him the equal of Pope; and to the same cause are attributable three fourths of that unusual point and force for which, in later days, Thomas Moore has become so justly distinguished. It is the prosaicism of these two writers to which is owning their special quotability.

The rythmical defects of “Alone” arise not from redundancies or deficiencies of syllables, but from the excessive use of difficult consonants. Such a line, for example, as

is scarcely pronounceable.

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Mrs. Hewitt's sonnets are, upon the whole, her most praiseworthy compositions. One entitled “Hercules and Omphale” is noticeable for the vigor of its rythm.

The unusual force of the line italicized, will be observed. This force arises first, from the directness, or colloquialism without vulgarity, of its expression: — (the relative pronoun “which” is very happily omitted between “skin” and “the”) — and, secondly, to the musical repetition of the vowel in “Cleonœan”, together with the alliterative terminations in “Cleonœan” and “lion”. The effect, also, is much aided by the sonorous conclusion “wore”.

Another and better instance of fine versification occurs in “Forgotten Heroes”.

The general intention here is a line of four iambuses alternating with a line of three; but, less through rythmical skill than a musical ear, the poetess has been led into some exceedingly happy variations of the theme. For example; — in place of the ordinary iambus as the first foot of the first, of the second, and of the third line, a bastard iambus [page 64:] has been employed. These lines are thus scanned:

The fourth line,

is well varied by a trochee, instead of an iambus, in the first foot; and the variation expresses forcibly the enthusiasm excited by the topic of the supposed songs, “Thermophylæ”. The fifth line is scanned as the three first. The sixth is the general intention, and consists simply of iambuses. The seventh is like the three first and the fifth. The eighth is like the fourth; and here again the opening trochee is admirably adapted to the movement of the topic. The ninth is the general intention, and is formed of four iambuses. The tenth is an alternating line and yet has four iambuses, instead of the usual three; as has also the final line — an alternating one, too. A fuller volume is in this manner given to the close of the subject; and this volume is fully in keeping with the rising enthusiasm. The last line but one has two bastard iambuses, thus:

Upon the whole, it may be said that the most skilful versifer could not have written lines better suited to the purposes of the poet. The errors of “Alone”, however, and of Mrs. Hewitt's poems generally, show that we must regard the beauties pointed out above, merely in the light to which I have already alluded — that is to say, as occasional happiness to which the poetess is led by a musical ear.

I should be doing this lady injustice were I not to mention that, at times, she rises into a higher and purer region of poetry than might be supposed, or inferred, from any of the passages which I have hitherto quoted. The conclusion of her “Ocean Tide to the Rivulet” puts me in mind of the rich spirit of Horne's noble epic, “Orion”. [page 65:]

The personifications here are well managed. The “Here! — ‘neath the o’erhanging rock!” has the high merit of being truthfully, by which I mean naturally, expressed, and imparts exceeding vigor to the whole stanza. The idea of the ebb-tide, conveyed in the second line italicized, is one of the happiest imaginable; and too much praise can scarcely be bestowed on the “rushing” of the “fair white feet”. The passage altogether is full of fancy, earnestness, and the truest poetic strength. Mrs. Hewitt has given many such indications of a fire which, with more earnest endeavor, might be readily fanned into flame.

In character, she is sincere, fervent, benevolent — sensitive to praise and to blame; in temperament melancholy; in manner subdued; converses earnestly yet quietly. In person she is tall and slender, with black hair and large grey eyes; complexion dark; general expression of the countenance singularly interesting and agreeable.