University of Virginia Library

Frances Sargent Osgood
Poe Museum manuscript, Richmond, VA

Mrs Osgood, for the last three or four years, has been rapidly attain-
ing distinction; and this, evidently, with no effort at attaining it. She seems,
in fact, to have no object in view beyond that of giving voice to the fancies
or the feelings of the moment. "Necessity", says the proverb, "is the mother of
Invention"; and the invention of Mrs O. , at least, springs plainly from ne-
cessity — from the necessity of invention. Not to write poetry — not to act it,
think it, dream it, and be it, is entirely out of her power.

It may be questioned whether with more industry, more method, more
definite purpose, more ambition, Mrs Osgood would have made a more de-
cided impression on the public mind. She might, upon the whole, have
written better poems ; but the chances are that she would have failed in con-
veying so vivid and so just an idea of her powers as poet. The warm ab-
andownement of her style — that charm which now so captivates — is but
a portion and a consequence of her unworldly nature in her disregard of
mere fame; but it affords us glimpses, which we could not otherwise have
obtained, of a capacity for accomplishing what she has not accomplished and
in all probability never will. In the world of poetry, however, there is already
more than enough of uncongenial ambition and pretence.

Mrs Osgood has taken no care whatever of her literary fame. A great
number of her finest compositions, both in verse and prose, have been writ-
ten anonymously, and are now lying perdus 1 about the country, in out-of-
the way nooks and corners. Many a goodly reputation has been reared upon
a far more unstable basis than her unclaimed and uncollected "fugitive
pieces."

Her first volume, I believe, was published, seven or eight years ago,
by Edward Churton, of London, during the residence of the poetess in that
city. I have now lying before me a second edition of it, dated 1842 — a
beautifully printed book, dedicated to the Reverend Hobart Cautier. It con-
tains a number of what the Bostonians call "juvenile" poems written when
Mrs. O. (then Miss Locke) could not have been more than thirteen, and e-
vincing unusual precosity. The leading piece is "Elfrida, a Dramatic Po-
em", but in many respects well entitled to the appellation, "drama". I allude
chiefly to the passionate expression of particular portions, to delineation of
character, and to occasional scenic effect: — in construction, or plot — in

— general conduct and plausibility, the play fails, comparatively, of course —
for the hand of genius is evinced throughout.

The story is the well known one of Edgar, Elfrida, and Earl Athelwood.
The king, hearing of Elfrida's extraordinary beauty, commissions his favorite,
Athelwood, to visit her and ascertain if report speaks truly of her charms.
The earl, becoming himself enamored, represents the lady as anything but beau-
tiful or agreeable. The king is satisfied. Athelwood soon afterward woos and
weds Elfrida — giving Edgar to understand that the heiress' wealth is the ob-
ject. The true state of the case, however, is betrayed by an enemy; and the
monarch resolves to visit the earl at his castle and to judge for himself.
Hearing of this resolve, Athelwood, in despair, confesses to his wife his du-
plicity, and entreats her to render as far as possible the effect of her
charms by dressing with unusual plainness. This the wife promises to do;
but, fired with ambition and resentment at the wrong done her, arrays her-
self in her most magnificent and becoming costume. The king is charmed,
and the result is the destruction of Athelwood and the elevation of Elfrida to
the throne.

These incidents are well adapted to dramatic purposes, and with more
of that art which Mrs Osgood does not possess, she might have woven them
into a tragedy which the world would not have willingly let die. As it is,
she has merely succeeded in showing what she might, should, should and could
have done, and yet, unhappily, did not.

The character of Elfrida is the bright point of the play. Her beauty and
consciousness of it — her indignation and uncompromising ambition — are de-
picted with power. There is a fine blending of the poetry of passion and of the
passion of poetry, in the lines which follow: