Art, Amy Levy

                               

 

 

AMY LEVY

Amy Levy was born in London, England in 1861. She was the 2nd of 7 children of a wealthy Anglo-Jewish family. The children of the family were avid readers from an early age and enjoyed participating in typically Victorian parlor activities both literary and theatrical. They were a typical English Victorian middle class family

All 7 of them would "publish" literary magazines with Amy contributing poetry and plays. At the age of 15 Amy was recognized by har family as having some literary ability and sent to Brighton to study at Brighton High School. Here, in Victorian England and at the tender age of 15, she lived in her own apartment where  her family would travel down to the coast to visit her.

In 1880 her first book of poetry Xantrippe and other verses was published. Her many friends tended to be other young, serious literary men and women with a political taste for Socialist teachings. Despite her obvious talent and success Amy was prone to bouts of deep depression which began in childhood. This didn’t prevent her from writing, publishing and travelling throughout Europe. 

Toward the end of her life, her mental health was frail, there was not the recognition, nor the treatment for chronic depression that there is today.

 
On September 10, 1889 she shut herself in her room and lit charcoal and then inhaled the fumes; she was found dead by her mother and sister, she was just 28 years old. I find this particularly tragic after reading this poem, The Village Garden.

The Village Garden by Amy Levy

Here, where your garden fenced about and still is,
Here, where the unmoved summer air is sweet
With mixed delight of lavender and lilies,
Dreaming I linger in the noontide heat.

Of many summers are the trees recorders,
The turf a carpet many summers wove;
Old-fashioned blossoms cluster in the borders,
Love-in-a-mist and crimson-hearted clove.

All breathes of peace and sunshine in the present,
All tells of bygone peace and bygone sun,
Of fruitful years accomplished, budding, crescent,
Of gentle seasons passing one by one.

Fain would I bide, but ever in the distance
A ceaseless voice is sounding clear and low;--
The city calls me with her old persistence,
The city calls me--I arise and go.

Of gentler souls this fragrant peace is guerdon;
For me, the roar and hurry of the town,
Wherein more lightly seems to press the burden
Of individual life that weighs me down.
I leave your garden to the happier comers
For whom its silent sweets are anodyne.
Shall I return? Who knows, in other summers
The peace my spirit longs for may be mine?

Art work by Augusta Innes Withers

Augusta Innes Withers (née Baker) was the daughter of a Gloucestershire vicar who was Chaplain to the Prince Regent.  She married an accountant before 1825 and was active as a painter from at least 1827 to 1865.  She became quite a famous Botanical Painter, Augusta exhibited between 1829 and 1846 at the Royal Academy and several other impressive venues. She was also a contributor to several botanist magazines and a teacher of her art. She was a member of the Society of Lady Artists; and her work remains an important part of the Royal Horticultural Society collection.

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delete reply agnes128 wrote on Jul 2, '09 I like the poem, it gave life to a special garden with mature trees, a round white table set for tea in the distance. Creative people are not always happy, it can be frustrating not always being able to render what is in one's brain. I love the paintings. Those women are a real inspiration, they were recognized when it was difficult for a woman to have a name of her own.

delete reply bostonsdandd wrote on Jun 25, '09 It amazes me there were no red flags through when I read a piece like this. Maybe it's because depression is where I get MY creative. Or maybe it's because I know my own triggers. But the poem is certainly telling HER truth. And it was a beautiful one! http://bostonsdandd.multiply.com/journal/item/326

delete reply sanssouciblogs wrote on Jun 24, '09 A beautiful juxtaposition between the writer and artist. So often we see go creativity hand and hand with depression. What an incredible young woman; how she must have suffered. Redolent of the life of Sylvia Plath. Very interesting backgrounds, beautiful and informative post (as usual, xoxo)

delete reply caffeinatedjo wrote on Jun 24, '09 What a shame she took her own life! So many creative people seem to have periods of deep depression. Makes me wonder if that has anything to do with their creativity, or vice-versa. I was not familiar with this poet until I read your post. Her poem, despite its hints of her depression, is beautiful.

delete reply asolotraveler wrote on Jun 24, '09 though a shade differently, we seemingly offered an ode to summer and individuality this week.

delete reply lauritasita wrote on Jun 24, '09 I find it so sad that so many talented young people take their own life. What makes them so depressed ? The poem was wonderful, and I love the artwork you chose to accompany it. Thank you for introducing me to her work.

delete reply brendainmad wrote on Jun 24, '09 I have 15-year-old students and I can't imagine any of them living on their own. How times have changed! Very informative post, and, yes, very sad story of someone with more to offer the world than perhaps she imagined.

delete reply sumaxmail wrote on Jun 24, '09 How interesting to marry these two 19th Century ladies via their work. The illustrations compliment the poem beautifully. The biographies were informative ... and so sad in the case of Amy. I was amazed to read that her wealthy parents would allow a 15-year old to live alone in Victorian England. It's hardly creditable now in the 21st century that a child would live so far away and cope for themselves alone.

delete reply veryfrank wrote on Jun 23, '09 Wonderful poem and background on Amy Levy. I am most impressed by the artwork of A