Landon and Felicia Hemans, as 'L.E.L.' and 'Mrs. Hemans,' were the two bestselling poets of their time?the decade and a half following the deaths of Keats, Percy Shelley, and Byron in the early 1820s?and were major inspirations to subsequent writers such as Elizabeth Barrett and Christina Bossetti. Unlike Hemans, Landon attracted scandal, partly because of her casual social relations with men and partly
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THE PROUD LADYE / 97 1
because of her principal subject matter, the joys and especially the sorrows of female passion. (In her preface to The Venetian Bracelet, she attempted wittily, but without success, to forestall this biographical reading of her poems: 'With regard to the frequent application of my works to myself, considering that I sometimes pourtrayed love unrequited, then betrayed, and again destroyed by death?may I hint the conclusions are not quite logically drawn, as assuredly the same mind cannot have suffered such varied modes of misery. However, if I must have an unhappy passion, I can only console myself with my own perfect unconsciousness of so great a misfortune.') There were rumors of affairs with, among others, William Jerdan, who was editor of the Literary Gazette, the journalist William Maginn, and the artist Daniel Maclise. She was engaged to the editor John Forster, future biographer of Dickens, but had to break the engagement because of these rumors. In 1838 she married someone she had known for only a short time, George Maclean, governor of the British settlement at Cape Coast Castle, west Africa (in what is now Ghana). She arrived with Maclean at Cape Coast in August 1838 and two months later was dead, reportedly from an overdose of prussic acid?though whether the cause was accident, suicide, or murder has never been determined.
Landon perfected, and reviewers helped maintain, several personas in her work: the pseudonymous, therefore anonymous, writer of passionate love lyrics; the Romantic 'improvisatrice' jotting down verses in the interstices of an intense social life; the renowned beauty who constantly fails in love and, in lamenting her crushed feelings, becomes the female equivalent of the Byronic hero; and an early version of the Victorian 'poetess' composing songs to appeal to a burgeoning cult of domesticity. As in Hemans's poetry, some of these personas are not wholly compatible with some of the others. But their variety and vitality captivated readers and, during Landon's short life, provided her a fortune in sales and royalties.
The Proud Ladye1
Oh, what could the ladye's beauty match, An? it were not the ladye's pride? if An hundred knights from far and near Woo d at that ladye's side.
5 The rose of the summer slept on her cheek, Its lily upon her breast, And her eye shone forth like the glorious star That rises the first in the west.
1. This ballad is . . . taken, with some slight change, from a legend in Russell's Germany [Landon's note]. The story, in John Russell's A TOUT in Germany (1824), chap. 11, relates how 'the fair Cunigunda, equally celebrated for her charms and her cruelty . . . would listen to no tale of love, and dreaded marriage as she did a prison. At length, to free herself from all importunities, she made a solemn vow never to give her hand but to the knight who should ride round the castle on the outer wall . . . [which) runs along the very brink of hideous precipices. . . . History has not recorded ihe precise number of those who actually made the attempt; it is only certain that every one of them broke his neck. .. . At length, a young and handsome knight appeared at the castle gate . . . [to] try his fortune. .. . In a short time, a shout from the menials announced that the adventure had been achieved; and Cunigunda, exulting that she was conquered, hastened into the court. . . . But the knight stood aloof, gloomy and severe. 'I can claim you,' said he; 'but I am come, and I have risked my life, not to win your hand, but to humble your pride and punish your barbarity'?and thereupon he read her a harsh lecture on the cruelty and arrogance of her conduct towards her suitors. The spirit of chivalry weeps at recording, that he finished his oration by giving the astonished beauty a box on the ear.' Landon's ballad (in the same stanza as Keats's story of another belle dame sans merci) was included as a separate piece within a long poem, The Troubadour, that she published in
1825.
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97 2 / LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON
There were some that woo'd for her land and gold, And some for her noble name, And more that woo'd for her loveliness; But her answer was still the same.
'There is a steep and lofty wall, Where my warders0 trembling stand; guards 15 He who at speed shall ride round its height, For him shall be my hand.'
Many turn'd away from the deed, The hope of their wooing o'er; But many a young knight mounted the steed He never mounted more.
At last there came a youthful knight, From a strange and far countrie, The steed that he rode was white as the foam Upon a stormy sea.
25 And she who had scorn'd the name of love, Now bow'd before its might, And the ladye grew meek as if disdain Were not made for that stranger knight.
She sought at first to steal his soul By dance, song, and festival; At length on bended knee she pray'd He would not ride the wall.
But gaily the young knight laugh'd at her fears, And flung him on his steed,? 35 There was not a saint in the calendar That she pray'd not to in her need.
She dar'd not raise her eyes to see If heaven had granted her prayer, Till she heard a light step bound to her side,? The gallant knight stood there!
And took the ladye Adeline From her hair a jewell'd band, But the knight repell'd the offer'd gift, And turn'd from the offer'd hand.
45 'And deemest thou that I dared this deed, Ladye, for love of thee? The honour that guides the soldier's lance Is mistress enough for me.
'Enough for me to ride the ring, The victor's crown to wear; But not in honour of the eyes Of any ladye there.
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LOVE' S LAS T LESSO N / 97 3 55'I had a brother whom I lost Through thy proud crueltie, And far more was to me his love, Than woman's love can be. 60'I came to triumph o'er the pride Through which that brother fell, I laugh to scorn thy love and thee, And now, proud dame, farewell!' And from that hour the ladye pined, For love was in her heart, And on her slumber there came dreams She could not bid depart. 65 Her eye lost all its starry light,
