Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

demanded her name, country, and condition, Mar- necklace then for sale, but not having at the time garet replied with great firmness:

"Madam, though I appear in this habit, I am a woman; my name is Margaret Lambrun; I was several years in the service of Queen Mary, whom you have so unjustly put to death; and, by her death, you have also caused that of my husband, who died of grief to see so innocent a queen perish so iniquitously. Now, as I had the greatest love and affection for both these personages, I resolved, at the peril of my life, to revenge their death by killing you, who are the cause of both. I confess to you, that I suffered many struggles within my breast, and have made all possible efforts to divert my resolution from so pernicious a design, but all in vain; I found myself necessitated to prove by experience the certain truth of that maxim, that neither reason nor force can hinder a woman from vengeance, when she is impelled thereto by love."

The queen heard this bold address with composure, and answered calmly: "You are then persuaded that, in this action, you have done your duty, and satisfied the demands which your love for your mistress and your spouse indispensably required from you; but what think you now is my duty to do to you?"

Margaret replied, with the same unmoved hardiness: "I will tell you frankly my opinion, provided you will let me know whether you put this question in the quality of a queen or in that of a judge?"

To which her majesty professing that of a queen: "Then," said Margaret, "your majesty ought to grant me a pardon."

"But what assurance can you give me," said the queen, "that you will not make the like attempt on some other occasion?"

[ocr errors]

'Madam," replied Lambrun, "a favour given under such restraint is no more a favour; and, in so doing, your majesty would act against me as a judge."

The queen turned to some of her council, and said, "I have been thirty years a queen, but do not remember to have had such a lecture ever read to me before ;" and immediately granted an entire and unconditional pardon. Margaret Lambrun showed her prudence by begging the queen to extend her generosity still farther, and grant her a safe conduct to the coast of France; with which request Elizabeth complied.

LAMOTTE, VALOIS, COUNTESS OF, Was the principal actor in the affair of the necklace, which caused so much annoyance and injury to Marie Antoinette, queen of France. The countess of Lamotte, an immoral intriguing woman, well known as such to most of the principal persons in Paris, suddenly, from great poverty, apparently became very wealthy. The means by which she supported her extravagance at length was ascertained. The countess, knowing the great desire of prince Louis de Rohan, cardinal bishop of Strasburg, who had fallen into disgrace at court, to regain favour, told him that the queen, Marie Antoinette, with whom she said she was on very confidential terms, wished to obtain a diamond

sufficient money by her, would like him to purchase the necklace as if for himself, and the queen would repay him by instalments and restore him to favour. The cardinal did so, and gave the necklace to the countess de Lamotte for the queen, who gave him in return a bond which, she had forged. The countess also procured a woman who resembled the queen, to personate her in a private interview with the cardinal, on a night in August, 1784. When the time for payment arrived, the cardinal, not being able to meet the demand, told the jewellers that he had bought it for the queen. The jewellers, after some time, applied to the king, and the fraud was discovered. Rohan was tried and acquitted; but the countess de Lamotte was sentenced to be scourged, branded, and imprisoned for life. After some months' confinement she escaped and went to England, where her husband was living on the proceeds derived from the sale of the necklace. Here she wrote a pamphlet defaming the queen, which prejudiced many people against that princess. The countess was found one morning dead on the pavement in one of the streets of London, having fallen, while intoxicated, from a window in the third story of her lodgings.

LANDA, CATHARINE,

WAS eminent for her beauty and learning. She wrote a letter in Latin to Peter Bembo, which, with his answer, is printed in that author's works. She died in 1526, at a very early age.

LANE, JANE,

A WOMAN of great spirit and sagacity, assisted in the escape of Charles II. after the battle of Worcester. The royal fugitive, disguised in her father's livery, rode before her on horseback from Bentley-Hall, in Staffordshire, to Mr. Norton's, near Bristol. Charles II., on his restoration, rewarded her amply; and she married Sir Clement Fisher, bart., of Packington-Hall, in Warwickshire.

LANDON, LETITIA ELIZABETH,

GENERALLY known as L. E. L., in consequence of having first published under her initials only, was born at Hans Place, Chelsea, in 1802. Her father, Mr. Landon, was a partner in the house of Adairs, army agents. When about seven years of age, Miss Landon's parents removed to Trevor Park, not far from East Barnet, where, amidst scenes vividly depicted in various passages in her later works, were passed many of the happiest days of her childhood. In the "Traits and Trials of Early Life," in "The History of a Child,” she is supposed to have pourtrayed that of her own early years; but the account is part romance and part reality. She describes "a large, old, and somewhat dilapidated place," — of which "only part of the grounds were kept in their original high order." Here she was wont "to wander in the almost deserted shrubberies, where the flowers grew in all the luxuriance of neglect over the walls." According to the same fictitious picture,

on a small island, in a deep pond, almost dark with the depth of shadow, and partly covered with water-lilies, "with the large green leaves that support the loveliest of ivory boats, fit for the fairy queen and her summer court," grew one curiously-shaped but huge yew-tree, and in the shadows of this gloomy tree the embryo poetess was wont to conceal herself for the whole of her playtime, "chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancy," and brooding over the troubles and sorrows which necessarily await every shy and sensitive person, and which are perhaps never more acutely felt than in the days of early childhood. Her childhood, however, was cheerful and often joyous.

In 1815, when Miss Landon was about thirteen years of age, the family quitted Trevor Park; and after a twelvemonths' residence at Lewis Place, Fulham, Mr. Landon removed to Brompton, where a considerable part of his daughter's youth was passed, excepting a year or two spent with her grandmother in Sloane street, and some occasional visits to her relations. Here, no sooner was she emancipated from the school-room, and allowed to pursue the bent of her own mind, than her poetical reveries were committed to paper; and through the encouraging kindness of Mr. Jerdan, the editor of the Literary Gazette, to whose judgment they were submitted, while still in her teens, the youthful writer had the pleasure of seeing some of her verses first appear in print, in the pages of that periodical, and visions of fame, perhaps, in some degree, comforted her for the reverses to which her family were then beginning to be subjected.

"The Fate of Adelaide," a romantic tale, and some minor poems, were published in 1821, when Miss Landon was nineteen; and the first of her principal poetical works was issued in 1824. In the summer of 1825, the "Troubadour" appeared, and some other volumes of her poetry.

Her father died about this time, and Miss Landon's literary exertions were directed to support her family and assist her brother. An extract from a letter of hers touchingly alludes to the painful circumstances in which this delicate daughter of the muse was placed:

"The more I think of my past life, and of my future prospects, the more dreary do they seem. I have known little else than privation, disappointment, unkindness, and harassment; from the time I was fifteen, my life has been one continual struggle, in some shape or other, against absolute poverty; and I must say not a tithe of my profits have I ever expended on myself. And here I cannot but allude to the remarks on my dress. It is easy for those whose only trouble on that head is change, to find fault with one who never in her life knew what it was to have two dresses at a time. No one knows but myself what I have had to contend with."

Miss Landon has herself remarked, that "a history of the how and where works of imagination have been produced, would often be more extraordinary than the works themselves." A friend of hers observes, that " though a dilettante of literature would assign for the scene of her authorship a fairy-like boudoir, with rose-coloured and silver hangings, filled with all the luxuries of a fastidious taste," yet the reality was of a very different nature; for though her drawing-room was prettily furnished, it was her invariable habit to write in her bed-room," a homely-looking, almost uncomfortable room, fronting the street, and barely furnished-with a simple white bed, at the foot of which was a small, old, oblong-shaped sort of dressing-table, quite covered with a common worn writing-desk, heaped with papers, while some strewed the ground, the table being too small for aught besides the desk. A little highbacked cane chair, which gave you any idea but that of comfort, and a few books scattered about, completed the author's paraphernalia."

"Miss Landon was not strictly handsome, her eyes being the only good feature in her face; but her countenance was intellectual and piquant, and her figure slight and beautifully proportioned. Altogether, however, her clear complexion, dark hair and eyes, the vivacious expression with which the latter were lighted up when animated and in good health, combined with her kind and fascinating manners, to render her extremely attractive; so that the rustic expression of sentiment from the Ettrick Shepherd, when he was first introduced to her, I did nae think ye had been sae bonny,' was perhaps the feeling experienced by many when they first beheld L. E. L."

Such is the portrait of this fascinating writer, drawn by one of her biographers. William Howitt, in his notice of Miss Landon, gives a sweeter touch to the picture. "Your first impressions of her were-what a little, light, simple-looking girl! If you had not been aware of her being a popular poetess, you would have suspected her of nothing more than an agreeable, bright, and joyous young lady. This feeling in her own house, or among a few congenial people, was quickly followed by a feeling of the kind-heartedness and goodness about her. You felt that you could not be long with her without loving her."

In her later productions, Miss Landon greatly improved in the philosophy of her art. She addresses other feelings besides love; her style has

[graphic]

more simplicity and strength, and the sentiment becomes elevated and womanly—for we hold that the loftiest, purest, and best qualities of our nature, the moral feelings, are peculiarly suitable, for their development and description, to the genius of woman. "The Lost Pleiad" and "The History of the Lyre," have many passages of true and simple feeling, united with an elevated moral sentiment, and that accurate knowledge of life, which shows the observing and reasoning mind in rapid progress. Such are the following passages:

"Can that man be dead

Whose spiritual influence is upon his kind?
He lives in glory; and such speaking dust
Has more of life than half its breathing moulds.
Welcome a grave, with memories such as these,
Making the sunshine of our moral world."

*

"Love mine, I know my weakness, and I know
How far I fall short of the glorious goal
I purpose to myself; yet if one line
Has stolen from the eye unconscious tears,
Recalled one lover to fidelity,

Which is the holiness of love or bade
One maiden sicken at cold vanity,
When dreaming o'er affection's tenderness,
The deep, the true, the honoured of my song,-
If but one worldly soil has been effaced,
That song has not been utterly in vain.
One true, deep feeling purifies the heart."

In 1838, Miss Landon married George Maclean, governor of Cape-Coast castle, and soon after sailed for Cape-Coast with her husband. She landed there in August, and was resuming, for the benefit of her family in England, her literary engagements in her solitary African home, when one morning, after writing the previous night some cheerful and affectionate letters to her friends in England, she was (October 16th) found dead in her room, with a bottle, which had contained prussic acid, in her

hand. It was conjectured that she had undesignedly taken an over-dose of the fatal medicine, as a relief from spasms in the stomach, to which she was subject. Her last poems are superior in freedom, force, and originality, to her first. She is most distinguished for her poetical writings, though her tales and romances show great wit, vivacity, and knowledge of life. Her principal poetical

Extracts from "Francesca Carrera."

YOUTH.

No marvel that we regret our youth. Let its bloom, let pleasures depart, could they but leave behind the singleness and the innocence of the happy and trusting heart. The lessons of experience may open the eyes; but, as in the northern superstition, they only open to see dust and clay, where they once beheld the beauty of palaces.

ENTHUSIASM.

Now,

Enthusiasm is the royal road to success. call it fame, vanity—what you will-how strange and how strong is the feeling which urges on the painter or the author! We ought to marvel less at the works produced, than at the efforts made. Their youth given to hopes, or rather fears-now brightening and now darkening, on equally slight grounds,

"A breath can mar them, as a breath has made," — hours of ceaseless exertion in solitude, of feverish solicitude in society: doomed to censure, which is always in earnest, and to praise, which is not. Alas! we talk of their vanity; we forget that in doling forth the careless sneer, we are bestowing but the passing thought of a moment to that which has been the work of an existence. Truly, genius, like virtue, ought to be its own reward, but it cannot. Bitter though the toil, and vain the hope, human exertion must still look to human approbation.

[blocks in formation]

We cannot understand what we have never ex

works are "The Improvisatrice ;” "The Trouba-perienced; we need pain, were it only to teach us

dour;""The Golden Violet;" "The Golden Bracelet;" and "The Vow of the Peacock." Besides these, she has written three novels, "Romance and Reality;" "Francesca Carrera ;" and "Ethel Churchill;" and a volume of tales, entitled "Traits and Trials," in which she is supposed to have depicted the history of her own childhood. She was a frequent contributor to many of the periodicals, and nearly all the annuals of the day. Many of her best poems were written for these publications, and may be found in "Literary Remains of L. E. L., with Memoirs of her Life." Edited by Laman Blanchard. In our selections, we will cull a few of the aphorisms and sentiments which make her prose remarkable for its boldness of truth and sympathy with "those who suffer and are sad."

sympathy.

It is a great error for the heart to hoard up the romance which is only graceful in youth- and it is dangerous too.

Hopes and regrets are the sweetest links of existence.

Society is like a large piece of frozen water; and skating well is the great art of social life.

From "Trials of Early Life."

What a duty it is to cultivate a pleasant manner! how many a meeting does it make cheerful which would otherwise have been stupid and formal! We do not mean by this the mere routine

of polite observance; but we mean that general cheerfulness which, like sunshine, lights up whatever it touches; that attention to others which discovers what subject is most likely to interest them; and that information which, ready for use, is easily laid under contribution by the habit of turning all resources to immediate employ. In short, a really pleasant manner grows out of benevolence, which can be as much shown in a small courtesy as in a great service.

EXTRACTS FROM MISS LANDON'S POEMS.

From "A History of the Lyre."

WOMAN'S DESTINY.

"I am a woman:-tell me not of fame!
The eagle's wing may sweep the stormy path,
And fling back arrows, where the dove would die.
Look on those flowers near yon acacia tree-
The lily of the valley-mark how pure
The snowy blossoms, and how soft a breath
Is almost hidden by the large dark leaves.
Not only have those delicate flowers a gift
Of sweetness and of beauty, but the root-
A healing power dwells there; fragrant and fair,
But dwelling still in some beloved shade.
Is not this woman's emblem? - she whose smile
Should only make the loveliness of home-
Who seeks support and shelter from man's heart,
And pays it with affection quiet, deep,-
And in his sickness-sorrow - with an aid
He did not deem in aught so fragile dwelt.
Alas! this has not been my destiny.
Again I'll borrow Summer's eloquence.
Yon Eastern tulip-that is emblem mine;
Ay! it has radiant colours -
every leaf
Is as a gem from its own country's mines.
'Tis redolent with sunshine; but with noon
It has begun to wither:-look within,
It has a wasted bloom, a burning heart;
It has dwelt too much in the open day,
And so have I; and both must droop and die!

I did not choose my gift: - too soon my heart,

Watch-like, had pointed to a later hour

Than time had reached; and as my years passed on,
Shadows and floating visions grew to thoughts,

And thoughts found words, the passionate words of song,
And all to me was poetry.

THE POET'S POWER.

Oh, never had the poet's lute a hope,
An aim so glorious as it now may have,
In this our social state, where petty cares
And mercenary interests only lock
Upon the present's littleness, and shrink
From the bold future, and the stately past,--
Where the smooth surface of society
Is polished by deceit, and the warm heart
With all its kind affections' early flow,
Flung back upon itself, forgets to beat,
At least for others: 't is the poet's gift
To melt these frozen waters into tears,
By sympathy with sorrows not our own,
By wakening memory with those mournful notes,
Whose music is the thoughts of early years,
When truth was on the lip, and feelings wore
The sweetness and the freshness of their morn.
Young poet, if thy dreams have not such hope
To purify, refine, exalt, subdue,
To touch the selfish, and to shame the vain
Out of themselves, by gentle mournfulness,
Or chords that rouse some aim of enterprise.
Lofty and pure, and meant for general good;
If thou hast not some power that may direct
The mind from the mean round of daily life,
Waking affections that might else have slept,
Or high resolves, the petrified before,
Or rousing in that mind a finer sense

Of inward and external loveliness,
Making imagination serve as guide

To all of heaven that yet remains on earth.-
Thine is a useless lute: break it, and die.

MUSINGS.

Methinks we must have known some former state More glorious than our present, and the heart Is haunted with dim memories, shadows left By past magnificence; and hence we pine With vain aspirings, hopes that fill the eyes With bitter tears for their own vanity. Remembrance makes the poet; 't is the past Lingering within him, with a keener sense Than is upon the thoughts of common men, Of what has been, that fills the actual world With unreal likenesses of lovely shapes, That were and are not; and the fairer they, The more their contrast with existing things; The more his power, the greater is his grief. -Are we then fallen from some noble star, Whose consciousness is as an unknown curse, And we feel capable of happiness

Only to know it is not of our sphere?

I have sung passionate songs of beating hearts;
Perhaps it had been better they had drawn
Their inspiration from an inward source.
Had I known even an unhappy love,

It would have flung an interest round life
Mine never knew. This is an empty wish;
Our feelings are not fires to light at will
Our nature's fine and subtle mysteries;
We may control them, but may not create.
And love less than its fellows. I have fed
Perhaps too much upon the lotus fruits
Imagination yields, -
-fruits which unfit
The palate for the more substantial food
Of our own land-reality. I made
My heart too like a temple for a home;
My thoughts were birds of paradise, that breathed
The airs of heaven, but died on touching earth.
-The knight whose deeds were stainless as his crest,
Who made my name his watchword in the field;
The poet with immortal words, whose heart

I shared with beauty; or the patriot,
Whose eloquence was power, who made my smile
His recompense amid the toil which shaped
A nation's destiny: these, such as these,
The glorified the passionate - the brave-
In these I might have found the head and heart

I could have worshipped. Where are such as these?
-Not 'mid gay cavaliers who make the dance
Pleasant with graceful flatteries; whose words
A passing moment might light up my cheek,
But haunted not my solitude. The fault
Has been my own; perhaps I asked too much :--
Yet let me say, what firmly I believe,
Love can be-ay, and is. I held that Love
Which chooseth from a thousand only one,
To be the object of that tenderness
Natural to every heart; which can resign
Its own best happiness for one dear sake;
Can bear with absence; hath no part in Hope,-
For Hope is somewhat selfish,-Love is not -
And doth prefer another to itself.
Unchangeable and generous, what, like Love,
Can melt away the dross of worldliness,
Can elevate, refine and make the heart
Of that pure gold which is the fitting shrine
For fire, as sacred as e'er came from heaven?

From "Poems," &c.

LINES OF LIFE.

Orphan in my first years, I early learnt To make my heart suffice itself, and seek Support and sympathy in its own depths.

Well, read my cheek, and watch my eye,-
Too strictly schooled are they,
One secret of my soul to show,
One hidden thought betray.

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]
« AnteriorContinuar »