another. At an unusually early age she manifested the genius for which she afterward 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 any thing but a happy one. Her first practical 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. [ ], who, charmed with her talents, encouraged their exertion by inserting her poems in a literary journal, with all the encomiums they merited. This 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. [ ], a married man, and the father of a large family, many of whom were older than L. E. L., was said to have been her lover, and it was publicly stated that she had become too intimately connected with him. 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 honor. 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 honor, 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 gayety 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 exigeance 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. M, a married man, and father of grown daughters, was now named as her paramour; and 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. About this time Mr. Maclean became acquainted with her, and after some months proposed for her hand. Wrung to the quick by the slanders heaped on her, she accepted his offer; but he deemed it neccessary 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 among 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. Maclean was, when she was to be 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 [ ] wrote and demanded an explanation from him. "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 proposed, 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-humored, 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 her on his extraordinary mode of proceeding; so did all her friends; but the die was cast. Her pride shrunk from the notion of again having it said that another marriage was broken off, and she determined not to break 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 positively 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, for her broken-hearted [ ], whom I have seen, told me that the captain of the ship said that Mr. Maclean betrayed the utmost indifference toward her. This indifference continued at Cape Castle, and, what was worse, discontent, ill humor, and reproaches at her ignorance of housekeeping met her every day, until, as she writes to her ], 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. She has come to England. L. E. L. thus writes to her [ He ]: 'There are eleven or twelve chambers here empty, I am told, yet Mr. Maclean refuses to let me have one of them for my use, nor will he permit me to enter the bedroom from the hour I leave it, seven in the morning, until he quits it, at one in the afternoon. expects me to cook, wash, and iron; in short, to do the work of a servant. I never see him until seven in the evening, when he comes to dinner; and when that is over, he plays the violin until ten o'clock, when I go to bed. He says he will never cease correcting me until he has broken my spirit, and complains of my temper, which you know was never, even under heavy trials, bad.' "This was the last account Mr. [ wretchedness. ] ever received. Judge, then, of his "It is now known that Mr. Maclean had formed a liaison at Cape Castle with a woman of that country, by whom he has a large family; such liaisons are not considered disreputable there, and the women are treated as wives. This person lived in the castle as its mistress until the arrival of Mr. Maclean and poor L. E. L., when she was sent off up the country. This woman was the niece of one of the merchants who sat on the inquest. All the servants, with the exception of the man and his wife brought out by L. E. L., were the creatures of the former mistress; the whole of the female natives detest English women, because the presence of one there banishes them from the society where they are tolerated in their absence. Mr. Maclean admits that indisposition and mental annoyance must have rendered him far from being a kind or agreeable companion to poor Letitia ; but adds that, had she lived a little longer, she would have found him very different, as he was, when not ill and tormented by various circumstances, which he does not explain, easy and good-tempered to a fault. He says that never was there so faultless a being upon earth as that poor, poor girl, as he calls her, and that he never knew her value until he had lost her. In fact, his letter seems an answer to charges preferred against him by the departed, and, what is strange, the packet that brought the fatal news brought no letter of recent date for her [ ], though she never missed an opportunity, and they occur rarely, of writing to him. Her letters, all of which have breathed the fondest affection for him, admit that she had little hope of happiness from her stern, cold, and morose husband. I have now, my dear madam, given you this sad tale. I have perused all her letters to her [ ], as well as Mr. Maclean's to him. I ought to add that, when they landed in Africa, Mr. Maclean set off, leaving his wife, and proceeded to the castle to dislodge his mistress and children. The natives were angry and offended at seeing their countrywoman driven from her home. Believe me, my dear madam, your ladyship's very sincerely M. BLESSINGTON "To Lady W—. "Let me have a line to say you have got this voluminous packet." LETTERS FROM MISS LANDON TO LADY BLESSINGTON. "28 Upper Berkeley Street West, Connaught Square. "MY DEAR MADAM,-I will not attempt an apology for the liberty that I am about to take; your own kindness will be my best advocate, and to that I venture to appeal. My request is, do you, in the circle of your acquaintance, know one who could and would give me an introduction to Lord Cottenham ? The fact is, there is a living in his gift just become vacant, in Devonshire, where [ ] has been for the last five years, and I have been led to hope that a little recommendation would procure it for him. I am perfectly well aware that I have not the shadow of a claim to make such a petition; but I do think, that if you know the numerous difficulties with which we have had to struggle-left to ourselves, almost children, without a friend but what we could make for ourselves, or a resource but in my exertions-our path through life has been a very hard one. Very probably you may not know, or not like to ask any friend of Lord Cottenham, but I feel assured that you will pardon my intrusion; and will your ladyship allow me to remain your obliged "L. E. LANDON." (No date.) "28 Upper Berkeley Street West, Connaught Square. "DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON,-I can not say how grateful I am to you. I could not have believed such kindness had I not received it. My only excuse for troubling you was the almost hopelessness of my position unless I could make for myself friends, though I little hoped to have found such a friend as I have in you. "I am writing in great haste, for a friend has suggested the possibility of [ ] being appointed secretary to the Literary Fund. Such an appointment would give him time to look round, and save us from the very heavy pressure of our present circumstances. I venture to inclose a list of the influential people at the Fund. If there is only one among them whom your ladyship could interest, it would be a great service. I put a cross against those whom I can reach myself. "Many, many thanks for the letters. I shall yet further intrude on your kindness. I am writing a letter to Lord Melbourne, which perhaps his nephew would place in his hands. But this is for after-consideration. entreat you to glance over a few letters, bearing testimony to [ ter and abilities. And I shall L. E. LANDON." (No date.) “DEAR MADAM,—We have troubled you so often that it seems quite a privilege, but I am only desirous of laying before you the list of [ J's testimonials. I now inclose one or two. We find, from the meeting of the council on Wednesday last, that the opposition is even stronger than we anticipaVOL. II.-D ted. We have the whole of the dissenting interest against us and with them. [ ] has two grave faults; he is a clergyman and a gentleman. Our stronghold is with the presidents. If they can be prevailed on to vote, we are certain of success; if not, the majority is decidedly against us. "I fear that there is some mistake about Lord Carrington-hearing that he supports the other candidate; perhaps he might be neutralized. Lord Ellenborough would be a great object if Count D'Orsay thought he could be induced to vote, for our great difficulty will be, when the day of election comes, to induce them to take the trouble of coming down to vote. Lord Mulgrave's vote will not avail; but it would be a great service if he could be induced to write a few lines, expressing his interest in Mr. [ ], and advocating his claims on literary grounds. Nothing but the vital consequences of success to us would excuse my thus troubling you. I fear that you will exclaim that I want you to quote and act Hector's speech, and say, "That post shall be my care; Not that alone, but all the posts of war.' Indeed, but for your kindness, our chances of success would have been very small. "I have inclosed Dr. Taylor's letter, as it will give you an idea of how the contest stands. The unfairness he mentions alludes to a former letter, which we have been obliged to lay before our different friends of the council. Again and again I warmly thank you. "Your truly obliged L. E. LANDON." (No date.) "I will not attempt to thank you, but never was there more earnest gratitude than I feel to you. If [ ] obtains the situation, he will owe it to your kindness chiefly—being placed in that respectable and independent position which we have been struggling years to obtain. I inclose some lists of the voters. How much I am obliged to Count D'Orsay. If he could but know the service that he is rendering, it would be the best acknowledgment that I could make. You may well call Mr. Montague a zealous friend; his kindness is as extraordinary as his talents-and they are of a very uncommon order; he deserves to be permitted the pleasure of admiring you as enthusiastically as he does. "Thanks to you. I have received a note from Lord Francis Egerton. Mr. Bulwer has secured Sir John Hobhouse, and Lord John Russell has also promised; the Marquis of Lansdowne is invaluable-such an old patron of the society. L. E. LANDON." "28 Upper Berkeley Street West, Connaught Square. "I can not thank you for all your kindness, but how gratefully I do feel it. I never met with any thing like it before. God bless you for it! "Lord John Russell and Sir John Hobhouse have promised their votes, |