Was born, in 1762, in the north of England, and was ushered into public notice by Dr. Kippis, at the age of eighteen. Between 1782 and 1788, she published “Edwin and Eltruda,” “An Ode to Peace,” and other poems. In 1790 she settled in Paris, and became intimate with the most eminent of the Girondists, and, in 1794, was imprisoned, and nearly shared their fate. She escaped to Switzerland, but returned to Paris in 1796, and died there in 1827. She wrote “Julia, a Novel,” “Letters from France,” “Travels in Switzerland,” “A Narrative of Events in France,” and “A Translation of Humboldt and Bonpland’s Personal Narrative.”
Personal
He had dined that day (May 30, 1784) at Mr. Hoole’s, and Miss Helen Maria Williams being expected in the evening, Mr. Hoole put into his hands her beautiful “Ode on the Peace.” Johnson read it over; and when this elegant and accomplished young lady was presented to him, he took her by the hand in the most courteous manner, and repeated the finest stanza of her poem. This was the most delicate and pleasing compliment he could pay. Her respectable friend, Dr. Kippis, from whom I had this anecdote, was standing by, and was not a little gratified.
Helen Maria Williams, in 1779, lived at Berwick. The graces of her mind were then as attractive and charming as those of her person. She had a tenderness and delicacy of soul, and was a sincere friend of all order,—moral, civil, and religious. But how frail is the best nature when it is powerfully assailed, and gradually and habitually corrupted by inhuman and impious doctrines, and by licentious and profligate examples! The incense of flattery and the intoxication of vanity contributed not a little to the fall of mental rectitude.
What and how great a contrast is exhibited between this female’s first appearance on the theatre of the public, and her last fatal ending! Lively, elegant, accomplished, and agreeable, of pleasing person, simple and gentle manners, without pride, or asserting any pretensions to distinction, she received the respect and attention of many of the most considerable persons in this country, both for talent and for rank. What is she now? If she lives (and whether she does or not, few know, and nobody cares), she is a wanderer—an exile, unnoticed and unknown.
Helen Maria Williams was a very fascinating person; but not handsome. I knew her intimately in her youth, when she resided in London with her mother and sisters. They used to give very agreeable evening-parties, at which I have met many of the Scotch literati, Lord Monboddo, &c. Late in life, Helen translated into English, and very beautiful English too, Humboldt’s long work, “Personal Narrative of Travels, &c.;” and, I believe, nearly the whole impression still lies in Longman’s warehouse.
Among the literary celebrities of the French Revolution was Helen Maria Williams, at whose house were wont to assemble the most distinguished of the liberal writers of France, her own reputation giving considerable éclat to these meetings. She wrote some of the most beautiful hymns in our language, was a prisoner under the reign of terror and published a work on the French Revolution, which is full of the most touching incidents, and adorned with specimens of the ardent and pathetic poetry, the product of French genius under the excitement of those most mysterious days. A. Humboldt was much attached to her, and committed to her care the publication of some of his most elaborate works.
General
Your poem [“The Slave Trade”] I have read with the highest pleasure…. A tempest is a favorite subject with the poets, but I do not remember anything, even in Thomson’s “Winter,” superior to your verses from the 347th to the 351st. Indeed, the last simile, beginning with “Fancy may dress,” &c., and ending with the 350th verse, is, in my opinion, the most beautiful passage in the poem; it would do honour to the greatest names that ever graced our profession.
Miss Williams possessed a strong mind, much historical acumen, and great industry, though her religious sentiments were not free from some errors of the period. As a poetess she had little more than some facility and the talent inseparable from a cultivated taste.
Helen Maria Williams was another woman of great natural abilities, with a correcter taste, though her poetry is of a still more conventional cast than Miss Seward’s; yet one of her sonnets made such an impression on Wordsworth that she records with a just pride his having repeated it to her, years afterwards.
Her successive volumes attest not only her life-long intellectual activity, but also her constant increase of mental power and acumen. She had a passion for politics as well as for general literature. She kept a busy, vigilant eye upon what was going on in France and in surrounding nations, and especially upon the effects of the great Revolution upon the fortunes of the European countries. Her writings pertained principally to this general subject; and with all their ardor and eloquence there is much acute observation, not a little keen wit and satire, and certain valuable material for the historian of those troublous times.
The hymn beginning
| “Whilst thee I seek, protecting Power!” |
Her poems, published in 1786, during her pre-revolutionary days, are dedicated to Queen Charlotte…. They have little merit, but are not uninteresting for their “signs of the times”: sonnets, a tale called “Edwin and Eltruda,” an address to Sensibility, and so forth. But the longest, “Peru,” is in the full eighteenth century couplet with no sign of innovation. The “Letters from France,” which extend to eight volumes, possess, besides the interest of their subject, the advantage of a more than fair proficiency on the author’s part in the formal but not ungraceful prose of her time, neither unduly Johnsonian nor in any way slipshod. But it may perhaps be conceded that, but for the interest of the subject, they would not be of much importance.
She adopted with enthusiasm, the principles and ideas of the revolution, and wrote of it with a fervour that amounted almost to a frenzy. She became acquainted with many of the leading Girondists, was on terms of intimacy with Madame Roland, was thrown into prison by Robespierre (from October 1793 she was in the Luxembourg), and narrowly escaped the fate of so many of her friends. Both before her arrest and after her release she freely wrote her impressions of the events which she witnessed or heard of, impressions frequently formed on very imperfect, one-sided, and garbled information, travestied by the enthusiasm of a clever, badly educated woman, and uttered with the cocksureness of ignorance. It was in the nature of things that such writings should make her many enemies; and while some of these contented themselves with denouncing her works as unscrupulous fabrications, others attacked her reputation as a woman, and accused her of carrying her love of liberty to a detestation of all constraint, legal or social…. Her writings are very much what might be expected from a warm-hearted and ignorant woman. The honesty with which she wrote carried conviction to many of her readers; and there can be little doubt that her works were the source of many erroneous opinions as to facts, which have been largely accepted as matters of history, instead of—as they really were, in their origin—the wilful misrepresentations of interested parties.
