If Grace Darling proved an inspiration to Victorian poets, she also had a knack of bringing out the worst in them. Three of them at least - William Wordsworth, Algernon Swinburne and William McGonagall - felt impelled to put quill to parchment in her honour, but the results reflect no honour on themselves.
The events which fed this compositional frenzy took place on this day, September 7th, in 1838. The paddle-steamer Forfarshire was wrecked in a severe storm on the Farne Islands, off Northumberland, and nine survivors were seen clinging to the rocks by William Darling, keeper of the nearby Longstone Lighthouse, and his daughter, Grace. These nine were rescued by the pair, but all the rest aboard were lost.
The adventure captured the imagination of a generation in a way which some might think was disproportionate; in any case, Grace Darling became a national figure overnight, a heroine second in precedence only to Florence Nightingale.
Let us have the poets tell her story.
William McGonagall begins the tale at the point where Grace espies the floundering ship:
And then she cried, "Oh Father dear, come here and see the wreck;
See, here take the telescope and you can inspect;
Oh, Father, try and save them, and heaven will you bless";
"But, my darling, no help can reach them in such a storm as this".
Now Dad may well have been a little cautious - but not so little Grace, or even Mum; William Wordsworth now takes up the narrative:
"Oh, courage Father! Let us out to sea
A few may yet be saved." The Daughter's words,
Her earnest tone, and look with beaming faith,
Dispel the father's doubts: nor do they lack
The noble-minded Mother's helping hand
To launch the boat."
Decisive action follows, and after some considerable melodrama, the great deed is accomplished. McGonagall again:
Nine persons were rescued almost dead with the cold
By modest and lovely Grace Darling, that heroine bold.
The survivors were taken to the lighthouse and remained there two days,
And every one of them was loud in Grace Darling's praise.
As it happened, an early death only four years later at the tender age of 26 further enhanced Grace Darling's saintly stature - and also provided Wordsworth with an excuse for a rather less than graceful eulogy:
Waves and winds, exult in this deliverance through faith!
Ye screaming Sea-mews in the concert join!
And would that some immortal Voice - a Voice
Fitly attuned to all that gratitude . . . .
Might carry to the clouds and to the stars,
Yea, to celestial choirs, Grace Darling's name!