vanity

In reading Felicia Heman’s ‘Propezia Rossi,’ the complexity of vanity emerged as a fascinating connection between Heman and Rossi. Aside from the last line, I’d say this is the most defining part of the poem: “From the slow wasting, from the lonely pain, the inward burning of those words- ‘in vain’, seared on the heart- I go.” It is very simple, however, “in vain” in this case (and its repetition through out the poem) doesn’t just mean producing no result. Although the root of the word ‘vain’ is to be devoid of real substance or to be empty, without real substance, through vanity Heman was able to understand and become one with Rossi. Yes, this is in part because of the slow wasting and burning pain they feel but also because of the loneliness of desertion. “Thou, loved so vainly.” The father of Heman’s five children, her husband deserted her and Rossi’s lover deserted her too. After the fulfillment of creating her last work of art, Rossi presented her sculpture to her lover and it was regarded with complete indifference. Understandably such abandonment could only leave one empty, devoid of real substance. Heman writes that it even drains the artistic spirit: “yet all the vision that within me wrought I cannot make thee!” Instead Heman finds other ways to show her vanity, to leave a lingering high opinion of Felicia Heman in the readers mind. Stylistically I think this was done with the repetition “but I go,” “never, oh! Never more” and the abundant usage of long and short hyphens. She is creating a lasting impression, imprinting herself as deeply as possible but also as innocently as possible, almost as if she is lingering in a doorway threatening to leave and victimizing herself. Yet there is no need for her plea: “Of loves kind words to woman! Worthless Fame!” is very human and understandable. In fact ultimately both Heman and Rossi were left with no one to love them other then themselves and therein lies their harmless vanity: “A spell o’er memory, mournfully profound, I leave it, on my country’s air to dwell,- say proudly yet- ‘Twas her’s who lov’d me well.’” Feeling devoid of worth and unable to produce any results having no one to love your empty self but your self will undoubtedly lead to one direction: “Winning but one, one gush of tears, whose flow surely my parted spirit yet might know, if love be strong as death!”