Dr. Combe's Endorsement

1842–1843

From the time that good Dr. Combe proclaimed me a poet, I was so considered by my teachers and associates; and they “knew then that they had known the fact from the first.” But it takes a certain amount of outside endorsement to make even our best and nearest friends appreciate us; and this I had heretofore lacked. It was for the famous Scotch Phrenologist to set me, if I can say it without being suspected of a pun, upon my poetical feet.

I was now, I think it may be said without vanity, considered as the poet laureate of our Institution; and the teachers evidently determined to make a first-class writer of me, if cultivation could do it. I was taught all the intiicacies of verse, until I began to wonder that the subject which I had considered as a very simple, easy sort of thing, had so many complications. I was taught to analyze, to parse, to scan, to write in different measures; and began to worry lest I should disappoint the high expectations that the phrenologist had raised.

Among the most potential aids I received at the time, was that from a gentleman named Hamilton Murray. Mr. Murray claimed that he could not write poetry, but could teach others how to do so; and as pupils in that branch of study were not numerous, he seemed to take especial pleasure in giving me prosodical instruction. He had a poetic temperament, and a fine rich voice: and hour after hour he would read me some of the grandest poems he could find in English literature.

This, as you may readily imagine, was a luxurious feast: and a benefit. Mr. Murray also encouraged me to imitate, as nearly as I could, the different poetical masters of that day — as Bryant, Willis, etc. He pointed out, with much delicacy, the different defects in my literarj’ style, and tried his best to remove them. With rare faithfulness, and with much kindness, considering that his pupil was not a rich man’s daughter, but a poor blind girl just starting in life, he toiled for my benefit; and though I could not pay him in money, he had my heartfelt gratitude. He has long walked the streets of the great Tuneful City: and I hope some day to meet him there, grasp him by the hand, and thank him once more.

Not long ago, I had the pleasure of meeting his nephew, Mr. Bronson Murray, of New York: whom I had also known at that time. He was of about my own age, and from him I had always received the most gentle and manly Old Friendships Draw Compound Interest.

courtesies. We now met again for the first time in sixty-five years: and thfe reminiscences that were awakened, may be readily imagined. Seldom have I enjoyed a visit so much.

How do these old friendships draw compound interest, as the years go on! And what a grand treat it will be, in the next world, to meet all those whom we have known and loved here, and talk over the events of the past!

5.S