You are here: Home > Devon > Tavistock history > Mary Maria Colling

Mary Maria Colling

From Bray (1838):

TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ.

Vicarage, Tavistock, June 8th, 1832

MY DEAR SIR

But it is not a little remarkable that the common people of Dartmoor, and, indeed, throughout all this neighbourhood, hold in great reverence many herbs which they use to cure divers diseases, accompanying their applications, even as did the Druids, with sundry mystical charms in barbarous verse. Though I had attempted to get some of the old women to repeat to me these charms, I never could succeed with them; and never should, had it not een for Mary Colling. The reason was this: the lower orders entertain an idea that if once these charms get, as they say, "into a printed book," all their efficacy will be for ever destroyed. The good old souls, therefore, when I questioned them (having previously taken it into their heads that all I heard would go into print) would not risk a charm in my hearing. With Mary they were less suspicious, and by her means many of their charms stand at this hour in jeopardy.

...

Here is a barbarous string of rhymes to stop an effusion of blood:

"Jesus was born in Bethlehem,
Baptized in river Jprden, when
The water was wild in the wood,
The person was just and good,
God spake, and the water stood
And so shall now thy blood -
"In the name of theFather, Son, &c."

From Bray (1884):

One day in the summer of 1832 we were surprised by a visit from a Captain Edgcumbe of the R.N., of Edgcumbe House near Endsleigh, a relation of the Earls of Mount Edgcumbe. He was accompanied by his intimate friend, another gallant son of the ocean, the late Captain Packwood, who had lost an arm in the battle. Although this pair of worthies were as brothers in their affection for each other, yet they were completely opposite in their persons and deportment. Captain Edgcumbe was short, blunt and sailor-like. Captain Packwood was a tall gentleman, polished, and conversant with men and manners. The former gave at once a proof of his exceeding good nature and simplicity by introducing himself with telling me that he had called in consequence of being so much please with Mary's book, and that (what perhaps I might like to hear) all the story about George Philps [sic], which I had related in her volume on Mary's authority, was perfectly true. He knew it to be fact, for he had known the ship, the Vestal, mentioned in that story; she really foundered off Newfoundland, just as I had stated - it was all quite true. Delighted as I was with the frankness and kindness of Captain Edgcumbe, I could hardly forbear a smile at his taking upon himself to certify all the truth of Mary's narrative about her grandfather.

She exited general interest. Strangers sent her books, some even anonymously, for the improvement of her mind, and many who came to the inn here sought her, and never left her without being surprised and delighted with the intelligence of her conversation.

On the day that the "Quarterly Review" came to Tavistock containing the article on her book, though I sent it to her, I found she had not read it. On being asked the reason, she replied, - Because just when it came she was busy in her household work, and she wished to get it done, as the next day was Sunday.

Neither success, not the notice of her superiors, not praise, nor being this eagerly sought after and universally admired and caressed, had the slightest effect upon her for any harm. She was just the same happy, hard-working, contented being she had ever been. She loved poetry for its own sake, and delighted in composing her little pieces as they seemed to arise, she scarcely knew how, in her thoughts. She no less loved reading, and above all reading poetry; and her wonderful memory enabled her to retain the finest passages of what she read with the most perfect ease, and to dwell upon them in her own mind. I never know any one more familiar with the Bible. She new whole chapters of the finest portions of the prophets by heart, and would repeat them with emphasis and energy.

She had also a remarkable turn for political knowledge, and often surprised me, after reading the debates, or leading article in the "St. James's Chronicle" (which her master took in, and lent to her), by her quick comprehension of the state of things, and her acute remarks on the probable issue of some of the measures in discussion. Of the impression she made on Southey I shall have to speak at a future period, when some few years after he was a guest at our house.

Yet with all this, and far more notice than I have stated, nothing changed the simplicity of Mary's character, habits and feeling. Though she would put on her best gown and cap, and would come to our house, converse modestly with our guests, and at their request, or mine, would repeat to them pieces of her poetry that were not to be found in her book, yet she never stirred from home for such a purpose till her work for the day was done.

No wonder that she excited a good deal of envy and jealousy in her own class; and the many instances of ill-nature and malice excited in her, and very deservedly, strong, angry, and sarcastic feeling. Though grateful to a benefactor, yet, strange to say, with all her poetic imagination, she had no notion of love, and rather smiled at it. Surely she never felt it! The truth is, as I often had occasion to observe, her feelings, though strong and deep, were wanting in tenderness. But, on the other hand, she was extremely generous, always ready to give from her own little store, and ever anxious to draw the attention of others to a case of real distress when it became known to her.

Not long after the successful appearance of Mary Colling's book, I began to taste the sweets, or rather the bitters, of patronizing and lifting uneducated poets, for applications were made, and MSS. forwarded to me, from a variety of quarters; all hopeful authors requested the same favour that had been bestowed on her. It was annoying in the extreme.

On the 24th of December, 1836, arrived at our house the Poet Laureate, and his son, now the Reverend Charles Cuthbert Southey, then a youth about eighteen or nineteen years old. It was nearly dark when we heard the wheels of the chaise that bore him approach our door. Mary Colling was with us; we all hastened out to meet and bid him welcome.

After breakfast we left him and his son together, and he wrote his letters, or corrected the proof-sheets of "The Lives of the Admirals," then in the press. We all met of course at dinner, and spent the rest of the day with each other. Mary Colling almost always joined the social circle in the evening. Mr. Southey delighted in her artless chat, and made her repeat some of the fables and verses which she had composed since the publication of her little volume. Not infrequently a Christmas tale was told by her, or by some one of the party, and at my request Southey repeated to us two or three of his own ballads, then unpublished; and as he did not recollect them without assistance, his son helped him on.

Mr. Southey spoke warmly in praise of Mary Colling; and observed that in the eyes, forehead, and upper part of the face she was perfectly beautiful. "What a sweet creature she would have made," said he, "had she but been brought up in a little higher sphere of life." He considered her fables very clever; she had a fine ear, and never wrote in her poetry a word too much. He went with me and his son to Mr. Hughes and Mary Colling; and visited even her kitchen. He said she was exactly what he expected to find her, from my account of her. He admired her excessive neatness, and looked at her garden (that ran down to the Tavy), though covered with snow, with interest. As we returned to the Vicarage, he told me he had been thinking how well and how appropriately she was placed. It was the most difficult thing in the world for a person to find the right place. But she and her worthy master were exactly such a primitive worthy couple as he should expect to find them; her lot seemed as happy as it was peculiar.

Continue >>>