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ONE of the most interesting and even romantic of literary figures is that of Letitia Landon-whose curious signature of three letters seems always to bring before persons quite unacquainted with her story, poetical associations of a special and interesting kind. There are but few now alive who know it: there are two, however, persons of great age, who are intimately acquainted with her sad story, and who know well the details of the last sad episode of her life. There was something in her history, and a genuine tone of romance in her poems, which fell into the "Book of Beauty" and "Annuals" category, attractive to the young and impulsive. Her portrait, too, which was published, invites the same interest. This pleasing young creature, born at Chelsea in 1802, found herself at Brompton about the year 1814, the neighbour of one who was then an important literary personage, the director of the most influential journal of the day, The Literary Gazelle. "My cottage," he says, "overlooked the mansion and grounds of Mr. Landon, the father.of L. E. L ; a narrow lane only dividing our residences. My first recollection of the future poetess is that of a plump girl, grown enough to be almost mistaken for a woman, bowling a hoop round the walks, with the hoop-stick in one hand and a book in the other, reading as she ran, and, as well as she could, managing both exercise and instruction at the same time. The exercise was prescribed and insisted upon: the book was her own irrepressible choice." This presently led to the usual request, modestly made, in such cases, would Mr. jerdan just cast his eyes over some lines of poetry. He did so, and encouraged the young girl. He became to her a sort of guide and friend and educator, and in a naive passage the grave editor seems to more than hint that he was regarded as an "ideal" : It is the very essence of the being I have so faintly portrayed, not to see things in their actual state, but to imagine, create, exaggerate, and form them into idealities ; and then to view them in the light in which vivid fancy alone has made them appear. Thus it befel with my tuition of L. E. L. Her poetic emotions and aspirations were intense, usurping in fact almost every other function of the brain ; and the assistance I could give her in the ardent pursuit produced an influence not readily to be conceived under other circumstances or upon a less imaginative nature. The result was a grateful and devoted attachment ; all phases of which demonstrate and illume the origin of her productions. Critics and biographers may guess, and speculate, and expatiate for ever ; but without this master key they will make nothing of their reveries. With it, all is intelligible and obvious, and I have only to call on the admirers of her delicious compositions to remember this one fact, to settle the question of their reality or romance-that they are the effusions of passionate inspiration, lighted from such unlikely sources. It was her spirit which clothed them accordiiig to her own unreal dreams. Gradually her poems began to excite attention. She soon became a useful assistant on the Gazette, doing, besides her verses, reviews and essays ; carrying that hod, as it were, which secured, at least, a satisfactory daily wage. She became known and sought. She received good prices for her books, though these were conceived in a spirit of romance that might be called II second hand," the scenes she describes being laid in Italy, where she had never been. Her friend furnishes the following prosaic but satisfactory table of receipts-" Romance and reality" it might be called :
| For the Improvvisatrice she received | £300 | | For the Troubadour | 6oo | | For the Golden Violet | 200 | | For the Venetian Bracelet | I50 | | For the Easter Offering | 30 | | For the Drawing-Room Scrap Book. | I05 | | For Romance and Reality | 300 | | For Francesea Carrara | 300 | | For lleath's Book of Beauty | 300 | | And certainly from other Annuals, Magazines, and Periodicals, not less in ten or twelve years than . - | 200 | | | In all £2,485 | The fair L. E. L. was editress of one of those engravers' books which were then in high fashion, bound in blue or crimson silk, and printed on wove hot-pressed paper, and for which elegant amateurs were glad to furnish verses and sketches; the names of persons of fashion being mingled with those of the professionals. But it took a good many years before she attained to this elevation. Lady Blessington was the successful conductor of another of these publications, and readers of the life of Dr. Madden will gather a good idea of the almost abject lengths to which the literary aspirant would go to secure a place in her venture. One of the pleasantest views we have of her is a little "junketting"-evidently a great effort-she took to Paris, in 1834 by the somewhat homely conveyance of one of the General Steam Navigation Company's packets from St. Katherine's Wharf. She wrote to her first friend Jerdan regularly, who always seems flattered by her attentions ; but an attractive young woman, who was at the same time amusingly anxious about the "siller," insensibly begins to flatter the editor, whom she likes, and on whom at the same time so much depends. She writes from Boulogne: "I began a letter to you yesterday, but on taking it up this morning, I find it is, even to you, scarcely legible, so will begin it over again. I have also another reason ; I wrote on English paper, which is heavier, and I have to pay the inland postage, and to-day my time ne vaut pas mes sous. You cannot think how I missed you. I really thought the morning never would pass. It did pass, however, and then I wished it back again. The wind blew directly in our teeth. It was impossible to read for three reasons-the sun, the wind, and the noise. And when I endeavoured to get into a pleasant train of thought, it made me melancholy to think I was leaving my native country. I was fairly dying with a desire of talking. I am quite cured of my wish to die for some time to come, as I really think that now I quite understand what the sensation is. I was not sick scarcely at all ; but so faint! As to what Boulogne is like from the sea, I can. not tell. I scarcely recollect anything about my landing. Misfortune first recalled my scattered faculties. At the Custom House you are searched." Again she writes to him : "We could not get places to go to Paris till Sunday. Miss Turin wanted to have taken the whole coupe, which would have been very comfortable; but a gentleman has already one place, and it is scarcely worth while waiting till Tuesday. Moreover, the conducteur says that 'c'est ups monsieur si poli.' How he has ascertained that fact Ido not know. It has a very odd effect hearing a strange language spoken under our windows; and now Ihave told you everything that Ican think of, which does not amount to much. However, I have taken two things for granted, first, that you would expect my first letter, and also that you would be glad to hear how I was. I fear I shall never make a traveller. I am already beginning to count the days for my return. Kind regards to all inquiring friends, and hoping that you are missing me very much." In another letter . "The first thing that I did was to write to you from Boulogne, and the first thing that I do is to write to you from Paris ; but truly the pleasure of seeing my hand-wr iting must be sufficient. Never was there a worse traveller. I arrived in Paris more dead than alive, and till this evening have not held up my head. The beginning of our journey was delightful ; the road is like one avenue, and it was so pretty, having the children, every hill we ascended, throwing roses into the carriage, asking for sous. I was scarcely sensible when we arrived at Paris, and was just lifted out of the diligence. Since then the extent of my travels has been from the bed to the sofa. We have very pleasant apartments, looking on the Boulevards-such a gay scene. It seems so odd to see the people walking about in caps, looking so neat, and I must add so clean. Mercy on the French carriages and horses; they make such a clatter ; drive far more with their tongues than the reins. We have delicious dinners, if I could but eat, which at present is an impossibility. I am still a horrid figure with my sea and sunburning. "Be sure wafer, and thin paper. I shall be very glad to see England again. "I wish I could find any channel of writing by the ambassador's bag, for the postage which I have to pay is two francs, and, what is much Worse, the postoffice is at the other end of the town, and even when I have a messenger, whom I must pay, the chances are that he will not pay it. I long to see the 'Gazette;' and now must end abruptly or lose my opportunity, Pray write to me. I wish I were at home without the journey. I shall write the moment Ihave anything to tell, and must watch my means of going to the post-office." "Love and fear are the greatest principles of human existence. If you owed my letter of yesterday to the first of these, you owe that of to-day to the last. What, in the name of all that is dreadful in the way of postage, could induce you to put the 'Gazette' in your letter? welcome as it was, it has cost me dear, nearly six shillings. I was so glad to see your hand-writing that the shock was lost in the pleasure ; but truly, when I come to reflect and put it down in my pocket-book, I am 'in a state.' The 'Gazette' alone would have only cost twopence, and the letter deux francs ; but altogether it is ruinous. Please when you next write, let it be on the thinnest paper, and put a wafer. Still, I was delighted to hear from you, and a most amusing letter it was. The 'Gazette' is a real treat. It is such an excellent one as to make me quite jealous. "My only approach to an adventure has been as follows:-I was advised, as the best remedy against the excessive fatigue under which I was suffering, to take a bath, which I did early one morning. I found it quite delicious, and was reading 'La Derniere Journele,' when I fell asleep, and was in consequence nearly drowned. I suppose the noise of the book falling aroused me, and I shall never forget the really dreadful feeling of suffocation, the ringing in my cars like a great bell with which I awakened. " She then adroitly turns to "business": " I think some very interesting papers might be written on the modern French authors. We know nothing of them. If I do write them I must buy some. At Galignani's they only allow two works at a time, and I can scarcely get any that I desire. I am thinking of subscribing to a French library. One feels the want of a gentleman here very much. " I was so glad of your letter. "I have been hitherto too ill to do anything ; but I have quite arranged my plan to write in my own room four or five hours every morning, so I hope to get a great deal done. Adieu, au revouir." 35 Rue-le-Grand, Lundi, (which being done into English means Monday. I hope you will not think that I intend writing you to death ; but I cannot let this opportunity pass. Miss Montgomery leaves Paris to-morrow, and so write I must. I am quite surprised that I should have so little to tell you ; but really I have nothing, as ill-luck would have it. I went to call on Madame Tastu, from whom I received a charming note, and while I was out Monsieur Sainte-Beuve and Monsieur Odillon Barrot called ; however, the latter wrote to me offering his services as cicerone, &c., and I expect him this morning. M. Heine called yesterday; a most pleasant person. I am afraid he did not think me a personne bien spirituelle, for you know it takes a long time with me to get over the shame of speaking to a stranger. By way of conversation he said, "Mademoiselle done a beaucoup couru les boutiques?' 'Mais non.' 'A-t-elle ete au Jardin des Plantes?' 'Mais non.' 'Avez-vous ete a l'opera, aux theatres?' 'Mais non.' 'Peut-etre Mademoiselle aime la promenade ?' 'Mais non.' 'A-t-elle done apporte beaucoup de livres, ou peut-etre elle ecrit ?' 'Mais non.' At last, in seeming despair, he exclaimed, 'Mais Mademoiselle, qu'est-ce que c'est done qu'elle a fait?' 'Mais-mais -j'ai regarde par la fenetre.' Was there ever anything si bete? but I really could think of nothing else. I am enchanted with Madame Tastu ; her manners are so kind, so encouraging. I did not feel much embarrassed after the first. She has fine features, though there was something about her face that put me in mind of Miss Roberts, but with a softened expression. If I had known as much of Paris as I do even now, I would not have come. In the first place, there is nobody here ; a la campagne is almost the universal answer. Secondly, it is of no use coming with only a lady; I might almost as well have stayed in London. Thirdly, it is too short a time ; I shall not have made a little acquaintance before I must leave. Fourthly, one ought to be married; and fifthly, I wish myself at home again." Once more to business~ "If I had the opportunity, the time, and could procure the books, I am sure a most delightful series of articles might be written on French literature. We know nothing of it; and it would require an immense deal of softening and adaptation to suit it to English taste. How well you have done 'The Revolutionary Epick ; ' though with less vanity, Disraeli has all the elements of a great poet ; but there is something wanting in the putting together. Taste is his great deficiency. "I quite dread-though impatient for it-my journey back again. I shall never make a traveller." " My present address ought to be well known to you.'(1) I write on purpose to scold you. Why have you not sent me the 'Gazette ?' it would have been such a treat. Also, you have not (like everybody else) written to me, and I quite pine for news from England. I would return to-morrow if I had the opportunity. I do not think that you have properly valued my letters, for things ought to be valued according to their difficulty, and really writing is no little trouble, to say nothing of putting my epistles in the post. I have been very unwell ever since my arrival, and for the last three days I have scarcely been off the sofa. The fatigue and the heat are equally overpowering. I feel so unequal to the exertion of hearing and seeing. I cannot tell you half the kindness and civility which I have received. Of all the persons I have met, or rather who have called upon me-for there is no meeting anybody now, all the soirees being over-I have been the most struck with M. Heine ; his conversation is most original and amusing. Poor Miss Turin is still in the doctor's hands, and of course it is impossible for me to go out by myself, or accept the attendance of any gentleman alone, so that I am surrounded with all sorts of little difficulties and embarrassments. I never again would think of going anywhere with only a lady; one might almost as well stay at home. I had no idea till now how useful you gentlemen are-I might say, how indispensable. We are very comfortably situated; we have delightful bed-rooms, a little ante-chamber, and the prettiest saloon, looking on a charming garden. The quiet is such a relief; for in Rue Louis-le-Grand we could not bear each other's voice for the noise; and above my head was a printer, and opposite my window a carpenter's. I do not know what it may be in the City, but at the West End there is nothing that can give an idea of the noise of Paris; the streets are all paved, the omnibusses innumerable, and carts and carriages all of the heaviest kind. If my money holds out I shall buy several works and translate (1) "From my translation and publication of,L'Hermite' of jouy." them at home, but I doubt being able to accomplish it; for though I have bought nothing but what was indispensable, such as gloves, shoes, paper, &c., I have little more left than will bring me home. The dust here is something not to be told ; before you have walked a hundred yards your feet are of a whitish brown. A great deal of my time has hung heavily on my hands, I have been so languid and so feverish; still, I feel that I have quite a new stock of ideas, and much material for future use. One ridiculous misfortune is continually befalling me ; I am always falling down, the parquet, ie. the floor, is so slippery, and I am never very steady on my feet. I really thought I had broken my arm yesterday. I am very anxious about getting home. I like our new lodgings so much. They are, according to Sir William Curtis's orthography, three Cs, namely, clean, cool, and quiet." After all her many hints and allusions, she now came to a formal proposal for business : "This is quite a business letter, so I beg you will read it with all due attention. I have read now a considerable portion of French new works, and find a great many which, translated with judgement, would, I think, sell. I underline judgment, for not a little would be required. What I propose, is to make an annual, consisting entirely of French translations-prose and verse. I could get it ready in about a month. To be called-what? We must think of a good title. 'The Laurel, or Leaves from French Literature; ' 'The Exchange, or Selection of French Authors,' with a little vignette on the title-page, of the Bourse or 'The Stranger,' &c. &c. "I do not propose new prints; anyone who knew how to set about it might form here a collection of very' pretty prints of all sorts of popular subjects. You must please see if any publisher will undertake this, and if they will, please write as soon as possible. I feel convinced I could make a very amusing book; shortening, softening down, omitting, and altering in my translations, according to my own discretion. I could have my part of the volume ready in about six weeks." These extracts from her letters will be found singularly sprightly and interesting, especially the naIve reference to "business," as her money was going rapidly. This interesting woman, as may be imagined, was much sought for her own personal gifts-" a great warmth of feeling-a peculiar charm of manner and address-an affectionate, loving nature-a simplicity of mind, wholly free from affectation---a guileless character, child-like in many of its traits-devoid of all suspicion of evil intentions and designs, and yet not free from impulsive tendencies and some degree of wilfulness, being her characteristics." This confidence-and she went much about by herself-made her likely to be the victim of would-be sympathisers of an unsuitable kind; and when it is found that the well-known Grantley Berkeley, Dr. Maginn, and others of the kind were interesting themselves in her and championing her cause, it shows she was not over-prudent. She had the tendency of all heroines-trust in everybody she met. With this she had a painful, acute sensitiveness, which made her feel and exaggerate slights and injuries to an extravagant degree; and this had the unfortunate result of raising up hosts of enemies, who harassed the unprotected creature for years with anonymous attacks and rumours. "Her peace of mind," says her friend Dr. Madden, "was more than disturbed by those diabolical efforts to annoy her-it was destroyed by them; and when labouring under recent inflictions of outrages of this sort-all her energies, bodily and mental, were disordered and impaired by them: the first paroxysms of suffering were usually followed by syncopes, spasms, tremors, and convulsive attacks, approaching to epileptic seizures. And when the violence of this nervous agitation would cease, then would come intervals of the most profound dejection of spirits." It may be conceived that there were many suitors for so interesting a prize ; but these enemies, by a dreadful system of persecution, seemed always to interpose, and succeeded in breaking off the engagements. One of the most eminent sculptors of her day was eager to make her his wife, but their cruel interference broke off' the match. With this gaiety of nature before us-which seems almost childlike-we turn to a letter written by Lady Blessington, after her death, which outlines L. E. L.'s tragic history, and serves as a curious commentary on her life thus far :
"Poor dear L. E. L. lost her father, who was a captain in the army, while she was yet a child. He had married the widow of an army agent, a woman not of refined habits, and totally unsuited to him. On his death, his brother, the late Dean of Exeter, interested himself for his nephew and niece, the sole children left by Captain Landon ; and deeming it necessary to remove them from their mother, placed the girl (poor L. E. L.) at school ; and the boy at another. At an unusually early age she manifested the genius for which she afterwards became so deservedly popular. On leaving school her uncle placed her under the protection of her grandmother, whose exigence rendered the life of her gifted grandchild anything but a happy one. Her first poetical effusions were published many years ago, and the whole of the sum they produced was appropriated to her grandmother. "Soon after, L. E. L. became acquainted with Mr. Jerdan, who, charmed with her talents, encouraged their exertion by inserting her poems in a Literary journal, with all the encomiums they merited. This notice drew the attention of publishers on her, and alas ! drew also the calumny and hatred of the envious, which ceased not to persecute her through her troubled life ; but absolutely drove her from her native land. There was no slander too vile, and no assertion too wicked, to heap on the fame of this injured creature. Mr. Jerdan was married, and the father of a large family, many of whorn were older than L. E. L. Those who disbelieved the calumny refrained not from repeating it, until it became a general topic of conversation. Her own sex, fearful of censure, had not courage to defend her, and this highly gifted and sensitive creature, without having committed a Single error, found herself a victim to slander. More than one advantageous proposal of marriage was made to her ; but no sooner was this known, than 'anonymous letters were sent to the persons who wished to wed her, filled with charges against her honour. Some of her suitors, wholly discrediting these calumnies, but thinking it due to her to refute them, instigated inquiries to trace them to the original source whence they came ; not a single proof could be had of even the semblance of guilt, though a thousand were furnished of perfect innocence. Wounded and humiliated, poor L. E. L. refused to wed those who could, however worthy the motive, seem to doubt her honour, or instigate inquiry into her conduct ; and from year to year dragged on a life of mortification and sorrow. Pride led her to conceal what she suffered, but those who best knew her were aware that for many months sleep could only be obtained by the aid of narcotics, and that violent spasms and frequent attacks of the nerves left her seldom free from acute suffering. The effort to force a gaiety she was far from feeling, increased her sufferings even to the last. The first use she made of the money produced by her writings was to buy an annuity for her grandmother ; that grandmother whose acerbity of temper and wearying exigrance had embittered her home. She then went to reside in Hans Place, with some elderly ladies, who kept a school, and here again calumny assailed her. Dr. Maginn, a married man, and father of grown daughters, was now named ; though his habits, age, appearance, and attachment to his wife, ought to have precluded the possibility of attaching credence to so absurd a piece of scandal, poor L. E. L was again attacked in a manner that nearly sent her to the grave. This last falsehood was invented a little more than four years ago, when some of those who disbelieved the other scandal affected to give credit to this, and stung the sensitive mind of poor L. E. L. almost to madness by their hypocritical conduct." Driven to despair almost by this persecution, and panting for repose, an opportunity now presented itself of release. A gentle.man called Maclean, who had an appointment at Cape Coast, was attracted by her, and after some months proposed for her. Lady Blessington relates the next portion of the episode :-
"Wrung to the quick by the slanders heaped on her, she accepted his offer but he deemed it necessary to return to Cape Coast Castle for a year, before the nuptials could be solemnized. He returned at the expiration of that term, renewed his offer, and she, poor dear soul! informed all her friends-and me amongst the number-of her acceptance of it, and of her intention of soon leaving England with him ; soon after this Mr. Maclean went to Scotland, and remained there many months without writing a single line to his betrothed. Her feelings under this treatment you can well imagine. Beset by inquiries from all her friends as to where Mr. MacIean was? when she was to he married? &c., &c.; all indicating a strong suspicion that he had heard the reports, and would appear no more. A serious illness assailed her, and reduced her to the brink of the grave. When her friend wrote and demanded an explanation from Mr. Maclean, he answered, that fearing the climate of Africa might prove fatal to her, he had abandoned the intention of marrying, and felt embarrassed at writing to say so. "She, poor soul ! mistook his hesitation and silence for generosity, and wrote to him a letter fraught with affection ; the ill-starred union was again prnposed, but on condition that it should be kept a secret, even from the friends she was residing with. From the moment of his return from Scotland to that of their departure, he was moody, mysterious, and ill-humoured- continually sneering at literary ladies-speaking slightingly of her works-and, in -short, showing every symptom of a desire to disgust her. Sir____ remonstrated with him on his extraordinary mode of proceeding; so did all her friends; but the die was cast. Her pride shrank from the notion of again having it said that another marriage was broken off; and she determined not to brea.k with him. Mystery on mystery followed ; no friend or relative of his-though an uncle and aunt were in London- sanctioned the marriage ; nay, more, it is now known that two days previous to it, he, on being questioned by his uncle, denied posibively the fact of his intention to be married. "The marriage was a secret one, and not avowed until a very few days previous to their sailing for Africa; he refused to permit her own maid, who had long served her, to accompany her, and it was only at the eleventh hour that he could be induced to permit a strange servant to be her attendant. His conduct on board ship was cold and moody. This indifference continued at Cape Castle, and what was worse, discontent, ill-humour, and reproaches at her ignorance of house-keeping met her every day, until her nerves became so agitated that the sound of his voice made her tremble. She was required to do the work of a menial; her female servant was discharged, and was to sail the day that the hapless L.E.L. died." To one so bright, and fdnd of society and sympathy, this expatriation must have been terrible. On arriving at the gloomy Cape Coast Castle, of which her husband was a sort of governor, it was found that she was the only lady in the colony. Mr. or Captain Maclean assumed a severe mode of conduct, not to say discipline, and, as the poor indiscreet lady wrote home by way of complaint to her friends, he had said "that he will never cease correcting me till he has broken my spirit, and complains of my temper, which you know was n
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