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Those little girls had grown to be women when the mournful day
broke that saw their father lying dead。 In those twenty years of
companionship with him they had learned much from him； and one of
them has a literary course before her； worthy of her famous name。
On the bright wintry day； the last but one of the old year； he was laid in
his grave at Kensal Green； there to mingle the dust to which the mortal
part of him had returned； with that of a third child； lost in her infancy
years ago。 The heads of a great concourse of his fellow…workers in the
Arts were bowed around his tomb。
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER INTRODUCTION TO HER
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〃LEGENDS AND LYRICS〃
In the spring of the year 1853； I observed； as conductor of the weekly
journal Household Words； a short poem among the proffered contributions；
very different； as I thought； from the shoal of verses perpetually setting
through the office of such a periodical； and possessing much more merit。
Its authoress was quite unknown to me。 She was one Miss Mary
Berwick； whom I had never heard of； and she was to be addressed by
letter； if addressed at all； at a circulating library in the western district of
London。 Through this channel； Miss Berwick was informed that her
poem was accepted； and was invited to send another。 She complied； and
became a regular and frequent contributor。 Many letters passed between
the journal and Miss Berwick； but Miss Berwick herself was never seen。
How we came gradually to establish； at the office of Household Words；
that we knew all about Miss Berwick； I have never discovered。 But we
settled somehow； to our complete satisfaction； that she was governess in a
family； that she went to Italy in that capacity； and returned； and that she
had long been in the same family。 We really knew nothing whatever of
her； except that she was remarkably business…like； punctual； self…reliant；
and reliable： so I suppose we insensibly invented the rest。 For myself；
my mother was not a more real personage to me； than Miss Berwick the
governess became。
This went on until December； 1854； when the Christmas number；
entitled The Seven Poor Travellers； was sent to press。 Happening to be
going to dine that day with an old and dear friend； distinguished in
literature as Barry Cornwall； I took with me an early proof of that number；
and remarked； as I laid it on the drawing…room table； that it contained a
very pretty poem； written by a certain Miss Berwick。 Next day brought
me the disclosure that I had so spoken of the poem to the mother of its
writer； in its writer's presence； that I had no such correspondent in
existence as Miss Berwick； and that the name had been assumed by Barry
Cornwall's eldest daughter； Miss Adelaide Anne Procter。
The anecdote I have here noted down； besides serving to explain why
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the parents of the late Miss Procter have looked to me for these poor
words of remembrance of their lamented child； strikingly illustrates the
honesty； independence； and quiet dignity； of the lady's character。 I had
known her when she was very young； I had been honoured with her
father's friendship when I was myself a young aspirant； and she had said at
home； 〃If I send him； in my own name； verses that he does not honestly
like； either it will be very painful to him to return them； or he will print
them for papa's sake； and not for their own。 So I have made up my mind
to take my chance fairly with the unknown volunteers。〃
Perhaps it requires an editor's experience of the profoundly
unreasonable grounds on which he is often urged to accept unsuitable
articlessuch as having been to school with the writer's husband's brother…
in…law； or having lent an alpenstock in Switzerland to the writer's wife's
nephew； when that interesting stranger had broken his ownfully to
appreciate the delicacy and the self…respect of this resolution。 Some
verses by Miss Procter had been published in the Book of Beauty； ten
years before she became Miss Berwick。 With the exception of two
poems in the Cornhill Magazine； two in Good Words； and others in a little
book called A Chaplet of Verses （issued in 1862 for the benefit of a Night
Refuge）； her published writings first appeared in Household Words； or All
the Year Round。 The present edition contains the whole of her Legends
and Lyrics； and originates in the great favour with which they have been
received by the public。
Miss Procter was born in Bedford Square； London； on the 30th of
October； 1825。 Her love of poetry was conspicuous at so early an age；
that I have before me a tiny album made of small note…paper； into which
her favourite passages were copied for her by her mother's hand before she
herself could write。 It looks as if she had carried it about； as another little
girl might have carried a doll。 She soon displayed a remarkable memory；
and great quickness of apprehension。 When she was quite a young child；
she learned with facility several of the problems of Euclid。 As she grew
older； she acquired the French； Italian； and German languages； became a
clever pianoforte player； and showed a true taste and sentiment in drawing。
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But； as soon as she had completely vanquished the difficulties of any one
branch of study； it was her way to lose interest in it； and pass to another。
While her mental resources were being trained； it was not at all suspected
in her family that she had any gift of authorship； or any ambition to
become a writer。 Her father had no idea of her having ever attempted to
turn a rhyme； until her first little poem saw the light in print。
When she attained to womanhood； she had read an extraordinary
number of books； and throughout her life she was always largely adding to
the number。 In 1853 she went to Turin and its neighbourhood； on a visit
to her aunt； a Roman Catholic lady。 As Miss Procter had herself
professed the Roman Catholic Faith two years before； she entered with the
greater ardour on the study of the Piedmontese dialect； and the observation
of the habits and manners of the peasantry。 In the former； she soon
became a proficient。 On the latter head； I extract from her familiar letters
written home to England at the time； two pleasant pieces of description。
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A BETROTHAL
〃We have been to a ball； of which I must give you a description。 Last
Tuesday we had just done dinner at about seven； and stepped out into the
balcony to look at the remains of the sunset behind the mountains； when
we heard very distinctly a band of music； which rather excited my
astonishment； as a solitary organ is the utmost that toils up here。 I went
out of the room for a few minutes； and； on my returning； Emily said； 'Oh！
That band is playing at the farmer's near here。 The daughter is fiancee
to…day； and they have a ball。' I said； 'I wish I was going！' 'Well；' replied
she； 'the farmer's wife did call to invite us。' 'Then I shall certainly go；' I
exclaimed。 I applied to Madame B。； who said she would like it very
much； and we had better go； children and all。 Some of the servants were
already gone。 We rushed away to put on some shawls； and put off any
shred of black we might have about us （as the people would have been
quite annoyed if we had appeared on such an occasion with any black）；
and we started。 When we reached the farmer's； which is a stone's throw
above our house； we were received with great enthusiasm； the only
drawback being； that no one spoke French； and we
