Lady Blessington

A*

THE MOST GORGEOUS
LADY BLESS1NGTON

PREFACE

STRANGE as the statement may seem, it is not
less true that no luminous biography of Lady
Blessington has been written : strange, because
her life presents in itself a romance such as facts
seldom contain or combine ; such as Fate denies
to ordinary mortals. Virtue and happiness, beauti-
ful and enviable as they are, afford meagre material
for memoirs. It is they whose swift -stirred sym-
pathies, and longings for happiness carry them be-
yond the pale of the commonplace, and the bonds
of conventionality, whose loves are ill-starred and
whose lives are shadowed ; they who strive and suf-
fer, who aspire and falter, who possess and pre-
sent studies that move and fascinate us. Their
heart histories appeal from out the past for green
places in our memories. Of such was the gifted
and beautiful Irishwoman — " the most gorgeous
Lady Blessington," as she was styled by Doctor
Parr, and as she was known to her intimates —
whose biography is here written with an admi-
ration that borders on affection, and with that
sympathy which sorrow solicits.

vi PREFACE

In writing the opening sentence, the fact has
not been overlooked that, some fifty years ago,
" A Memoir of the Literary Life and Correspond-
ence of the Countess of Blessington," was written
by Doctor Madden, who for years had enjoyed
her acquaintance, and into whose possession some
of her correspondence passed after her death.
The production of this life of my Lady Bless-
ington is partly due to the fact that the writer
has been kindly permitted to make use of the six
volumes in Mr. Morrison's possession, of letters
addressed by the leading men and women of the
day, in literature, art, and society, to the countess,
or written by herself. Here are published, for the
first time, letters or parts of letters which Disraeli,
Dickens, Landor, Barry Cornwall, Marryat, Ma-
cready, Lord Lytton, and others, addressed to her.
The letters given here are not pitchforked into
the pages, irrespective of what has gone before,
or of what remains behind ; but are introduced to
illustrate a character, to strengthen statements,
occasionally to enlarge a view. Frequently the
information contained in the correspondence is
embodied in the memoir without reference to
their writers, lest such might break the even
flow of the narrative. For much valuable infor-
mation the writer is likewise indebted to manu-
scripts found in the archives of the British Museum
Library ; to biographies, lives, and letters of the
contemporaries of the countess who came within

PREFACE vii

the circle and felt the charm of her influence ; and
to the verbal descriptions of two friends, who,
knowing her history, appreciated her worth.

That the same appreciation and charm may be
felt by those who here read this record of Lady
Bkssington's life is a satisfaction which the writer
wishes to one and all, his critics included.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I.

An Irish Squireen — A Sensitive Child — The Joy of Being
Understood — Dreams — The Desmonds Themselves —
Wild Times — Rebel Hunting — Tragedy — A Domestic
Tyrant — Suitors Twain — Proposals — Forced to Marry
— Misery — Frenzy — Escape — The Prelude of Her
Life .

CHAPTER II.

An Unprotected Wife — An Unhappy House — A Hateful
Position — Lord Blessington Appeared upon the Scene —
A Tragedy in the Fleet — Freedom and Marriage — An
Irish Welcome — The Mansion in St. James's Square . 23

CHAPTER III.

Lord Byron — A Hero of Romance and an Object of
Hatred — Storm in the Social Atmosphere — In Venice
— The Rosiest Romance of His Life — A Bride of
Sixteen — Inexorable Fate — In Ravenna — A Poet's
Love-letter — A Philosophic Husband — Count Guiccioli
Becomes Uncivil — Strife and Separation — Byron Is
Summoned — A Common Disturber — In Pisa — A
Ghost-haunted Palace — Banishment — A New Resi-
dence Sought — The Villa at Albero — Lady Blessing-
ton's Hopes — Lines Written in Her Diary . . 50
ix

x CONTENTS

PAGE

CHAPTER IV.

Lord Blessington Visits Byron — The Poet and the Count-
ess — First Impressions — Personal Appearance — His
English Visitors — Reference to His Child — A Pleasant
Talk — Flippant Manner — Count D'Orsay's Diary —
Dining with the Blessingtons — His Desire to Grow
Thin — Death of Lord Blessington's Heir — Lord
Byron's Sympathy — His Expedition to Greece — Melan-
choly Presentiments — His Superstitions — Impromptu
Lines — Farewell 68

CHAPTER V.

First Sight of Naples — The City Crowds — A Magnificent
Palace — Entertaining — Sir William Gell — My Lord's
Extravagance — The Building of a Fairy Palace — Lord
Blessington Returns to Italy — Travelling in Former
Times — The Inn at Borghetto — Life in the Palazzo
Belvedere — Young Mathews as a Mimic — Amateur
Theatricals — Above the Bay 98

CHAPTER VI.

Byron Starts for Greece — An Inauspicious Day — Storm
and Danger — A Desolate Place — In Missolonghi —
Byron's Illness and Death — Tidings Reach the Palazzo
Belvedere — Leaving Naples — Residence in Florence —
Lamartine and Landor — An Original Character — An
Eventful Life — Landor's Friendship with Lady Bless-
ington— Mutual Admiration . . ,; . . 124

CHAPTER VII.

Landor and Lord Blessington Sail for Naples — Landor's
Delight in the Bay — His Impetuosity — The Blessingtons
Leave Florence — The Palazzo Negroni at Rome — At-
tending a Bal Masque — Fallen Kings and Queens — The
Mother of Napoleon — Countess Guiccioli — Byron's Will

CONTENTS xi

PAGE

— Lord Blessington's Will — Count D'Orsay's Marriage

— Letter to Landor — Once More in Genoa — The Story

of Teresina — Lord Blessington's Gift . . . . 149

CHAPTER VIII.

H6tel Marshal Ney — The Most Gallant of All Gallant
Husbands — A Round of Gaiety — Mrs. Purves Marries

— Letters from Tom Moore — Lord Rosslyn's Request

— Death of Lord Blessington — Letters from Landor —
Lady Blessington's Grief — First Breath of Scandal —
The Age and Its Infamous Editor — Instructions to Pros-
ecute— Letters to Sympathisers 168

CHAPTER IX.

In St. James's Square — Removal to Seamore Place —
Splendour of Lady Blessington's Home — Distinguished
Guests — D'Orsay the Leader of Dandies — Courted
by All — His Neglected Wife — Separation — Lady
Harriet's Friendship with Royalty — Scandal — A Brave
Show — Lady Blessington's Letters 196

CHAPTER X.

Lady Blessington Becomes an Author by Profession — Visit
from S. C. Hall — Her Journal of Conversations with
Lord Byron — The Countess Guiccioli Visits London —
Writes to Lady Blessington concerning Byron — Mar-
riage of Mary Anne Power — Landor Comes to England

— Introduces Henry Crabbe Robinson to Lady Blessing-
ton — His Impressions — Anecdotes of Doctor Parr —
Publishing a Novel — Lady Blessington Edits the Book

of Beauty 214

CHAPTER XI.

Lady Blessington's Circle Widens — Young Disraeli — The
Effects of " Vivian Grey " — A Strange Illness — Corre-

xii CONTENTS

PAGB

spondence with Bulwer — Criticisms of " The Young
Duke " — Travel and Adventures — A Psychological
Romance — An Extraordinary Figure — Meeting the
Great Ones of the Earth — The Reading of a Revolu-
tionary Epic — As for Love ? 237

CHAPTER XII.

Edward Lytton Bulwer — Gambling in Paris — Love and
Marriage — First Novels — Lady Blessington Reads
"Pelham" — Interview with an Eccentric Architect —
Bulwer's Letters to His Mother— Hard Work and
Bitter Criticism — Sets out for Italy with Introductions
from Lady Blessington — His Opinion of Landor —
Writes from Naples — Letters from Landor and Lady
Blessington . . .' v . v> . . . . . 258

CHAPTER XIII.

Publication of the "Conversations with Lord Byron" —
"The Book of Beauty" — The Pains and Pleasures of
Editorship — Letters from Bulwer, Disraeli, John Kenyon,
Monckton Milnes, Charles Mathews — Landor and His
Works — N. P. Willis Comes to Town — His Impres-
sion of Lady Blessington and Her Friends — Bulwer's
Talk — Disraeli's Correspondence — Henry Bulwer —
Letter from Lady Blessington 281

CHAPTER XIV.

Letters from Lord Abinger, Bulwer, and Landor — Recol-
lections of Florence — Landor Leaves Fiesole — Lady
Blessington Writes to Madame Guiccioli — Removal to
Gore House — Correspondence with Landor and Captain
Marryat — Prince Louis Napoleon — John Forster . . 312

CHAPTER XV.

Failing Health — Providing for Others — John Varley, Artist
and Mystic — The Science of the Stars — Bulwer's Inter-

CONTENTS xiii

PAGE

est in Mysticism — William Blake — The Ghost of a
Flea — Lady Blessington's Crystal — Letters from Dis-
raeli— William Archer Shee's Impressions of Madame
Guiccioli — Letters from Lady Blessington, Bulwer, and
Landor — Brilliant Reception at Gore House — D'Orsay
and His Debts — Letter from Prince Louis Napoleon . 343

CHAPTER XVI.

Friendship of Dickens for Lady Blessington — His Letters

— The Shadows Deepen — Macready Writes — Letters
from Mrs. Charles Mathews — Charles Dickens Abroad

— Bulwer Is Melancholy — D'Orsay Becomes an Artist
by Profession — The Duke of Wellington Is Pleased —
Portrait of Byron — An Ivy-leaf from Fiesole . . . 374

CHAPTER XVII.

Letters from Mrs. Sigourney — Mrs. S. C. Hall's Opinion of
Lady Blessington — Charles Dickens Homeward Bound

— Letter of D'Orsay to Dickens — A Double Grief —
Lady Blessington as a Woman Journalist — The Daily
News and Its Contributors — N. P. Willis again upon
the Scene — Bitter Feelings Aroused — Letter from
Bulwer — Captain Marryat Will Fight — Willis Says
Farewell — Prince Louis Returns — The Prince and
Landor 400

CHAPTER XVIII.

The Glory of Gore House Is Departing — Debts and Diffi-
culties — A Waning Popularity — Letter from Dickens

— Prince Louis Becomes President — Enter a Bailiff —
Flight to France — Beginning a New Life — Letter from
Disraeli — Illness and Death — D'Orsay's Grief — The
President's Ingratitude — Last Days of D'Orsay —
Peace and Farewell 422

•\

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

r AI»JD

LORD BYRON BIDDING ADIEU TO LADY BLESSINGTON

Frontispiece

LORD BYRON 70

THE ARRIVAL AT THE COURTYARD ... 98

COUNT D'ORSAY I96

LADY BLESSINGTON 229

Louis NAPOLEON 341

THE MOST GORGEOUS
LADY BLESSINGTON

CHAPTER I.

An Irish Squireen — A Sensitive Child — The Joy of Being
Understood — Dreams — The Desmonds Themselves — Wild
Times — Rebel Hunting — Tragedy — A Domestic Tyrant

— Suitors Twain — Proposals — Forced to Marry — Misery

— Frenzy — Escape — The Prelude of Her Life.

[ORE than a century has passed since a
child was born into the world whose
strange and changeful career, from its
bitter beginning even to its close, could count as
experiences, reversals of fortune, phases of mys-
tery, infelicity of marriage, and the passion of love,
— these rich elements of romance that lend fas-
cination to reality. This child, born on the first
day of September, 1789, at Knockbrit, near Clon-
mel, in the county of Tipperary, in Ireland, was
christened Margaret Power. Her father, Edmund
Power, an Irish squireen, was the descendant of an
ancient family residing in the adjacent county of

2 THE MOST GORGEOUS

Waterford ; whilst her mother, a County Limerick
woman, delighted to trace her descent from Mau-
rice, first Earl of Desmond, and to enumerate for
the benefit of her children and her neighbours the
great and noble houses with which her family was
connected.

Edmund Power was a man whose high spirit not
infrequently led him into violence ; whose love of
sport caused him to neglect such merely mercenary
matters as the cultivation of his property ; whose
desire to entertain and whose love of display
drifted him into debt and difficulties, after the
fashion of his kind in the days in which he dwelt.
Tall, straight built, and handsome, florid of face,
peremptory of speech, he dressed in leather
breeches and top-boots, wore white cravats, frills,
ruffles, and fob seals, which costume helped to give
him a showy and impressive appearance, and to
gain for him amongst his fellow squires the names
of Beau Power and Shiver the Frills. His wife,
whom he had married early in life, seems to have
been an inactive women, too weak to influence her
husband or avert his ruin, and too much absorbed
in the glories of "me ancestors the Desmonds"
to enter into the inner lives of her children, of
whom she bore six.

Margaret, the third of these, if not quite over-
looked, was little cared for in her childhood.
Extremely delicate, nervous, and excessively sen-
sitive, she sat apart, silent and pale-faced, whilst

LADY BLESSINGTON 3

her robust brothers and sisters romped, played,
and teased her for not joining in their sports, she
being all unlike them physically as well as men-
tally ; for whilst they were remarkably handsome,
she was considered comparatively plain. During
the time she remained apart from their joyous
company, her mind — the strange mysterious king-
dom of a child's mind, which can only be entered
into by those possessing the passport of sympathy
— was receiving impressions, thinking out ideas,
perceiving facts, which, when put into words, led her
nurse to consider her uncanny, perhaps a change-
ling, and confirmed the general impression that
one so sad of manner whilst yet so young, so weak
m body and with such wistful eyes, could not live
long.

With age she gained strength, but her charac-
teristics remained ; and the quaint speculative
questions she asked, the occasional gleams of in-
sight she showed, the comments she passed, which
previously had only excited ridicule, now attracted
to the shy child the attention of a friend of the
family, Miss Anne Dwyer, a voluble-tongued, kind-
hearted woman, with great natural though uncul-
tivated gifts, whose vivacity and repartee led her
to be regarded as a person of ability by those
incapable of judging her talents. She was sym-
pathetic and clever enough to see that Margaret
was in no ways understood by those around her,
and generous enough to devote herself to this

4 THE MOST GORGEOUS

lonely child in whose nature great qualities possi-
bly lay dormant. Therefore the latter was encour-
aged to make those inquiries which formerly had
produced only laughter, but which now were
answered with all the clearness and ability that
Anne Dwyer possessed.

The joy which the poor child found in being
understood was pathetic; a hand had been held
out to her in solitude, to which she eagerly clung,
and she was prepared to learn whatever lessons
her instructress proposed, and to lay bare her
mind to one so capable of satisfying its demands.
One day the pupil asked where her teacher had
gained her knowledge, and when answered it was
from books, Margaret developed a passion for
reading which increased with years and continued
through life. A faculty she had always possessed
now began to show itself, when her vivid imagina-
tion conjured up scenes, peoples, and events, at
first for the benefit of her brothers and sisters,
who loved strange tales, but afterward for the en-
tertainment of her parents' guests ; for her father
and mother, being first astonished, soon grew inter-
ested in her powers of story-telling.

Now Edmund Power's property, which at one
time had brought him fifteen hundred a year, be-
came through neglect and increasing debt of less
and less value. But so long as he could have dogs
and hunters, and enjoy wine and revelry, the world
went well with him, and he was content to put off

LADY BLESSINGTON 5

till to-morrow such unpleasant considerations as
tradesmen's bills and obtruding bailiffs. The day
came, however, when such sinister sights could no
longer be shut out, and he was obliged to leave
Knockbrit and take up his residence in Clonmel,
when, though retaining some part of his property,
he entered into partnership as a corn merchant
and butter buyer with Messrs. Hunt and O'Brien,
whose business premises were in the neighbouring
city of Waterford.

To the inexperienced, change is ever delightful,
and the removal of the family was hailed with
pleasure by the children, with the exception of
Margaret, who looked forward with sad foreboding
to leaving the place she had peopled with her
dreams, — the country with its distant hills, on
whose blue heights bonfires flamed against the
black on the Eves of St. James and St. John ;
the far fields, where, under the sleeping moon-
light, hand in hand in circles weird, fairies danced
around rings, their sportive figures aerial as the
violet shadows from which they sprang ; the lanes
down which the gracious knight, who sought her
all the world o'er, one day would come ; the deso-
late moors, across which the headless horseman
strove to outride the winds on winter nights ; and
the dark river, by which the blanch-robed banshee
was seen to walk. None of these things were to
be found in a town whose streets and shops and
peoples were less dear and sacred to her than the

6 THE MOST GORGEOUS

scenes over which she had roamed uncontrolled, a
silent, self-communing child, solitary, save for the
luminous dreams that lighted the world round.

But her feelings on this point, as on others,
were not entered into by her family, and, stealing
from them on the last evening of their stay under
the old home roof, she, a sad and lonely figure
moving through the thickening gray, walked to
the spots which association and memories had
made sweet to her, to bid them all farewell ; con-
scious possibly that some link, uniting the past
and the future, was being snapped in the chain
of her life, — a chain which time could never unite,
bring the years what they would. On her return,
stealthy and timid, she carried with her a few wild
flowers for remembrance, and, with an intuition
which teaches that what is sacred to oneself
should be hidden fro'm all, she thrust them into
her pocket, from which only when alone was she
to« release and carry them to her lips.

The small and incommodious house into which
they moved stood near an old stone bridge that
joined the counties of Clonmel and Waterford, at
a place called Suir Island. Here, soon after their
arrival, occurred a little scene, which, vignette-like,
illustrates the character of Margaret, and the lack
of understanding shown by her family. Whilst
Mrs. Power received some friends, who were ad-
miring the other children for their strength and
beauty, Margaret, who had no share in the gen-

LADY BLESSINGTON 7

eral praise, stood silently by, eagerly listening, and
hardly observed, until one of the circle, turning
toward her, said, " Come here, my dear, and show
me what you have bulging in your pocket."

Margaret, confused and nervous, refused to stir
until her mother beckoned her, when, blushing
because of the notice she attracted, and fearful
of its result, she crossed the room, when the con-
tents of her pocket — the flowers she had gath-
ered in Knockbrit — were brought to light amidst
much laughter, and contemptuously flung out of
the window. On this the child burst into a pas-
sion of tears she could no longer keep back, when
she was sternly reproved for being foolish and ill-
tempered.

The change, which was made about the year
1797, must have been galling to a poor, proud
lady who was " a real descendant of the Desmonds
themselves," as well as to the squireen husband,
whose ancestors " had never dirtied their hands
by earning a penny piece." The change, however,
had its compensations, for the business in which
he had become a partner prospered greatly, and
promised to restore his fortunes and secure inde-
pendence to his children.

Unhappily, this state of affairs did not continue
long, for, in an evil hour, he listened to a proposal,
the acceptance of which brought about his ruin.
This proposal, made by Lord Donoughmore, was
that Edmund Power should become a magistrate

8 THE MOST GORGEOUS

for the counties of Tipperary and Waterford. The
social distinction which this situation offered was
one to comfort and flatter Beau Power, now low-
ered in his dignity and wounded in his pride.
Once more the squireen might hold his head high,
might hunt with and entertain the military and
the county families, and become a person to be
feared and flattered by the coerced and terror-
stricken people. That no salary or other reward
was attached to the office seemed no drawback to
its acceptance, and was a matter this fine gentle-
man would regard as beneath his consideration;
on the other hand, promises were held out by his
lordship, then a person of influence at the Castle,
of a lucrative post, for services rendered the gov-
ernment, and even hints of a baronetcy were not
withheld from him. Power gladly accepted the
offer, though it involved a change of his religion ;
for he had been born and bred a Catholic, and,
until now, had nominally belonged to the church
whose members were considered ineligible for
the magistracy. He, therefore, conformed to the
Protestant religion, an act regarded with abhor-
rence by his family and friends ; and so long, and
no longer, as there remained a chance of his re-
ceiving the promised rewards from his patron did
he continue to profess that faith.

To understand the duties a magistrate was then
called on to perform, and the manner in which he
carried them out, it is necessary to bear in mind

LADY BLESSINGTON 9

the state of the times. Long suffering from dis-
tress and discontent, Ireland was now seething
with rebellion. The United Irishmen, founded by
Wolfe Tone, in 1791, with the object of forcing
the government to relax the terrible severity of the
laws which oppressed the people, and, if necessary,
to invite French aid toward helping them to lib-
erty, had become a secret society which numbered
half a million members. Not only were their
meetings prohibited, but the local magistrates, in
whose hands the execution of the most vigorous
measures was entirely left, were empowered to
send all persons suspected of belonging to the
movement into the navy ; to search houses for
arms; and to treat as culprits all who should be
absent from their homes, without a satisfactory
cause, after a certain hour in the evening. The
magistrates, in their search for insurgents, were
accompanied by the military, who practised hor-
rible outrages ; sometimes, under the pretext that
arms were concealed in them, houses were plun-
dered and burned, and their inhabitants subjected
to torture, by way of forcing a confession. In
October, 1796, the Habeas Corpus Act was sus-
pended ; and all Ireland was proclaimed under
martial law in March, 1798, in which year the
rebellion broke out.

A fearless horseman and a determined enemy
of rebels, Power rode at night through the terror-
ised country, whose black and mournful silence was

io THE MOST GORGEOUS

broken only by the clattering troop of dragoons
following him ; seizing upon all chance wayfarers,
searching suspected houses, and striking terror
into the hearts of peasants in the darkness of
their cabins ; whilst by day the severity of his
punishments caused him to be the dread and the
curse of the unfortunate men brought before him.
As a consequence, the friends of those wronged
by his tyranny burned his corn stores, killed his
cattle, and destroyed his crops, and his partners,
after many attempts, at last succeeded in getting
rid of so obnoxious a person. In return for these
misfortunes, he received letters from the Castle
acknowledging his services and praising his zeal,
and, on presenting himself at the vice-regal court,
he was shown gratifying marks of attention, and
given fresh promises of reward which might have
been kept, had not his office as a magistrate been
abruptly ended by an act which throws a lurid
light upon these troubled times, and illustrates
the character of this man.

It happened one April evening that a young
farm labourer, named John Lonnergan, the son
of a widow, was in his cabin, when he proposed
to take to a neighbouring forge a pitchfork which
had been broken.

"Johnnie, dear, it's too late to go," said the
widow, " maybe it's Power and ,the soldiers you'd
be meeting."

" Never mind, mother," answered the lad, " sure

LADY BLESSINGTON n

I'll only leave it and hurry back ; you know I can't
do without it to-morrow ; " and away he went light-
heartedly, to meet his fate.

He had not gone a mile from his home when he
caught the quick clatter of hoofs on the narrow
road, and, looking behind, saw through the gather-
ing gray of the spring evening the man who was
the terror of the country, riding at a furious rate,
and followed by two others. The lad, in his fright,
jumped over a ditch and ran through the adjoin-
ing fields, seeing which, Power, who was probably
far from sober, believed he had discovered a rebel,
called out to and then fired at him, when he fell,
covered with blood. At sound of the report, a
woman named Bridget Hannan rushed to the spot,
where she saw Power standing on a ditch, a smok-
ing gun in his hand, who said he would shoot her
if she came any farther. Lonnergan, who was still
living, but quite insensible, was taken and flung
on horseback behind Power's servant, to whom he
was strapped, when the party rode into Clonmel,
and in the first instance turned into the stable yard
of the magistrate, whose family, startled to atten-
tion by his oaths, hurried to the windows to see a
lad apparently dead, his head sunk upon his breast,
his clothes steeped with blood, his limbs hanging
powerless from the horse on which he was held.
In this condition he was taken to the court-house
or jail, where, the blood by that time being well-
nigh drained from his veins, he survived only a

12 THE MOST GORGEOUS

few hours ; his body, smeared and stark, being
then hung up for exhibition above the grim gate-
way of the old stone building, that the people
might be warned by the ghastly sight from all
tendencies to rebel.

Now the widow, having watched through the
lonely night for the return of her son, went in
the soft flush of early morning to make inquiries
for him at the forge, where he had not been seen
nor heard of; and from there she walked into
Clonmel, anxious and weary, hoping and fearing,
but no trace of him could she find until, in pass-
ing the jail she was attracted by sight of that
at which a mournful crowd was silently gazing.
One glance told her mother's heart what it was,
when with a piercing shriek she fell to the ground.
Presently, when she recovered consciousness, and
had learned how it was her "Johnnie dear" had
been taken from her, she knelt upon the rough
pavement in front of that ghastly figure, and with
all the fervour and eloquence of her race cursed
his murderer.

It is probable that no notice would have been
taken of this occurrence, which Power set down
to his zeal for the government, if the murdered
lad's family had not been urged by their landlord,
Bagnell, who hated Power because of his alliance
with the Donoughmore interest, to prosecute the
magistrate. Even when proceedings were taken
against him, the grand jury, composed of men like

LADY BLESSINGTON 13

himself, threw out the bill, and it was only when a
second bill was sent up that it was accepted, and
he was returned to take his trial for murder. The
defence was that Lonnergan was one of a dan-
gerous gang of rebels, and that he had fired a
stone at his murderer, statements for which no
evidence was forthcoming. The result was that
Power, as an active agent for the government, was
acquitted, but that his name was removed from
the magistracy.

Previous to his trial he had, at Lord Donough-
more's suggestion, and in order to advocate his
lordship's political views, become the proprietor
of the Clonmel Gazette or Munster Mercury, the
editor of which was Bernard Wright, a wit, a
poet, and a teacher of foreign languages, but no
politician ; who, because a letter in the French
language had, in 1/98, been found upon him, had
received a hundred lashes by order of Sir John
Judkin Fitzgerald, "an extremely active, spirited,
and meritorious magistrate," as the parliamentary
proceedings styled him. Edmund Power knew
nothing of newspapers, and this venture merely
served to sink him deeper in the mire of debt.
The state of his finances was such that his
daughters, amongst other humiliations, were made
to feel that their school fees were unpaid, and
were prevented from learning certain kinds of
fancy work, without a knowledge of which no
girl's education was considered complete.

14 THE MOST GORGEOUS

Laughed at for his pretensions by the class
whom he sought, hated as a renegade and an
enemy of his country by the class he despised,
baffled in his hopes of obtaining recognition and
reward from the government he served, he was
a soured and a desperate man. Always given
to conviviality, he now became dissipated, and
as a consequence his temper grew more violent,
his fits of rage more frequent ; he treated his
wife with brutality, and became the terror of
his home, where he delighted to display his
tyranny. The slightest disregard to his wishes
was punished by flinging knives, plates, cups, or
whatever came readiest to his hand, at the heads
of the offenders. Terror-stricken by his drunken
fury, his cruelty, and his desperate oaths, his
children fled from his approach, and as a result
of the misery of their home, his eldest daughter,
Anne, fell into a nervous condition which speedily
brought about her death.

Notwithstanding the state of his circumstances
he continued to entertain recklessly, by the way
of keeping up appearances; and when, in 1803, a
regiment of the 4/th foot was ordered to Clonmel,
he invited the officers to dinner. Amongst those
who accepted his invitation were Capt. James
Murray, and Capt. Maurice St. Leger Farmer,
both of whom became ardent admirers of Mar-
garet Power. Though only fourteen years old
at this time, she was in the habit of sitting at

LADY BLESSINGTON 15

her father's table when he received company ;
but it is significant that when these young men
came to her home, she, a mere schoolgirl, was
considered too young to be formally introduced
to them.

From the fact that their other children pos-
sessed more regularity of feature, her parents
were not quick to recognise the charm, that de-
pended more on colour and expression, which Mar-
garet, now the eldest daughter, began to develop.
Her large gray-blue eyes, wistful, winsome, and
almost dark in the shadow of long lashes, were
contrasted by abundant brown hair, rather light
in colour ; her face, round and soft, was fresh and
clear in complexion, with sweet little dimples that
lapsed into smiles ; her exquisitely shaped head,
with its tiny pink ears, was gracefully poised upon
white, sloping shoulders, blue-veined like her
arms ; whilst her hands were so beautiful thr.t
years later they served as models to Henry Bar-
lowe, the sculptor. Her figure gave promise of
a grace that already marked her movements ;
whilst not the least of those charms which were
subsequently to exercise forcible influence over
others was her voice, which, low, soft, caressing,
and just flavoured with an accent that gave it
piquancy, fell wooingly upon the ear.

Little wonder that these young men felt the
fascination of this girl, with her winsome beauty
and her childlike shyness — a fascination they

16 THE MOST GORGEOUS

lost no time in declaring. Though showing no
affection for either, she liked Captain Murray
far the better of the two, his frank face, good
humour, and deferential ways pleasing her ; whilst
Captain Farmer had from the first filled her sen-
sitive mind with a fear she could not overcome;
a fear probably arising from the fact that, though
good-looking and well-shaped, his manner was
often wild and abrupt. Moreover, there was
about him a general air of excitability that awed
her, which, though she was then unaware of the
cause, was due to temporary fits of insanity, from
which he had suffered since birth.

A day came when Captain Murray asked her
to become his wife, and met with a refusal ; she
telling him she was too young to think of mar-
riage, and that, though she liked, she did not love
him. Seeing that he was repugnant to her, Cap-
tain Farmer had not proposed to her personally,
but set about gaining her in what he considered
a more certain way ; this was to ask her father's
permission to make her his wife. Beau Power
was delighted at the prospect of ridding himself
of the encumbrance of a daughter, especially when
now, on the verge of ruin, he could satisfactorily
dispose of her to an officer in the army, a man of
old family, " who offered the most liberal propo-
sals which a large fortune enabled him to make."

The bargain was closed without delay, and one
evening Margaret was called into the shabby

LADY BLESSINGTON 17

dining-room, the atmosphere of which was heavy
with the smell of roast meat and whiskey, where,
though long after dinner, her father was still
drinking his customary four glasses of punch.
This, from miserable experience, was known to
be and dreaded as his worst hour. Pale and
trembling, the child, yet in short frocks, stood
at the foot of the table, her wistful eyes striving
to read the flushed and frowning face of the
tyrant, who roughly and briefly told her that
she was to marry Captain Farmer. She heard in
silence, scarce believing he was serious; but on
learning that her father meant what he said, she
burst into tears and refused to obey. Power, who
allowed those he ruled to have no will but his
own, shouted out violent threats in his semi-
drunken fury, struck the table, stormed and swore
he would be obeyed, when she escaped from the
room and blindly sought her own, situated at the
top of the house, — a dingy little apartment sacred
to her as a sanctuary, the eaves of its sloping
roof the shelter-place of many nests, its high,
solitary window looking down upon the river,
the worn bridge, and the island beyond with its
rushes. Here, she gave vent to the grief which
shook, to the fear which overwhelmed her, re-
belling, in the bitterness of her heart, against the
fate which threatened her. The dislike she had
from the first felt toward Captain Farmer now
deepened to repulsion : the unknown was more

i8 THE MOST GORGEOUS

terrible to this child than the miseries she could
realise, though the latter were cruel enough ;
for as long as she could remember, her home
had been darkened by a man of violent temper
and brutal manner, such as her future husband
promised to be, and she remembered with self-
pity the nervous apprehensions, the watchful
terror, the strain of mind, the household had long
endured. Was her future to be as her past ?

One hope for her remained. Broken-spirited
and ill-used as her mother was, she would surely
rebel against her husband in his attempt to sacri-
fice his daughter. True, though affectionate in
an impulsive and undiscerning way, she had, from
want of sympathy and insight, ever failed to under-
stand her daughter's nature, and had never been
drawn to her by that bond of union which is
closer than relationship, which relationship itself
frequently fails to establish. It might be, how-
ever, that having suffered in her own married
life, she would in this point recognise the misery
that awaited her child, and strive to avert it ; but
Margaret was soon to learn that her hopes in this
direction were ill-founded. For whilst the girl was
still upon her knees in tears, her mother entered
the room, and one glance at her face showed that
the sympathy and aid anxiously looked for were
missing. To Margaret's sob-choked cry, "Oh,
mother, have you heard ? " the answer came that
she knew all and considered Margaret foolish to

LADY BLESSINGTON 19

behave in such a rebellious manner. She was
a child with romantic notions ; books had filled
her mind with nonsense ; her parents were the
best judges of how she should act. She should
be pleased and flattered to have a proposal from
Captain Farmer, instead of giving way to foolish
tears ; for he was a young and a handsome man,
much in love with her ; he was in a good position,
and had fine prospects ; what more did she want ?

As for not loving him, that was because she had
got absurd notions from reading poetry ; when girls
grew up they had to think of other things than love.
What she should remember was that her father was
a ruined man, who might be sold up and left with-
out a home any day ; that it was her duty to catch
at this chance of a settlement, which would be a
relief to her family ; and that as Captain Farmer's
wife she would have an opportunity of advancing
her sisters' and, perhaps, her brothers' prospects.
At all events, marry she must, and without delay.

There now seemed no chance of escape from a
marriage which she feared and loathed ; without
a friend capable of aiding or protecting her, she
was driven into that innermost loneliness, where
so much of her life from childhood upward had
been spent. Her white face, with its imploring
eyes, only made her father more furious, and,
if possible, more determined she should marry
Farmer, to whom he was probably under obliga-
tions. The force of her grief was therefore re-

20 THE MOST GORGEOUS

served for night, when in the silence, broken only
by the surge of the river and the swish of the
rushes, she sobbed herself to sleep that brought
her terrifying dreams.

The heartlessness of Power is emphasised by
the fact that before the marriage took place he
had been told by Farmer's relatives that the latter
had been insane ; but this fact, carefully kept from
Margaret, did not alter her father's plans. News
of the intended marriage becoming known, the
relatives of the family and neighbours regarded it
as a violence done to the girl and an act of tyranny
on the part of her father; but the increased un-
popularity with which he was regarded only made
him more forcibly resent his daughter's tears. As
for the bridegroom elect, he was by no means to
be put from his purpose by the shrinking repug-
nance and open fear shown him by the child.
And so day after day passed, bringing her nearer
and more near to what she dreaded, until, cowed
into submission, and by bitterness of suffering
made temporarily indifferent to her fate, she
became a wife at the age of fifteen years and six
months, the marriage being celebrated in the
parish church of Clonmel, " according to the rites
and ceremonies of the United Church of England
and Ireland," on the 7th of March, 1804.

The result of this union may readily be antici-
pated ; for years afterward its brutality and misery
impressed her mind. Once, in speaking of this

LADY BLESSINGTON 21

time, she told a friend she had not been long under
her husband's roof when it became evident that he
was subject to fits of insanity ; that "he frequently
treated her with personal violence ; that he used to
strike her on the face, pinch her till her arms were
black and blue, lock her up whenever he went
abroad, and often left her without food till she
felt almost famished."

His insane jealousy, his capricious temper, and
arrogant bearing made life a long-continued terror
during the three months which she lived with him.
At the end of this time his regiment was ordered
to the Curragh of Kildare, when, summoning such
spirit as was left her, she refused to accompany
him. He therefore allowed her to remove to her
father's house, there to remain for the present.

It happened that a few days after he had
reached the Curragh, Farmer had an argument
with his colonel, on whom, in a moment of frenzy,
he drew his sword. This act being mercifully set
down to insanity, Farmer was spared a trial by court
martial and its consequences, and allowed to sell
his commission. His friends then obtained for
him an appointment in the East India Company's
service.

Before starting for India he strove to persuade
his wife to accompany him abroad, but having the
memory of recent sufferings fresh in her mind,
she refused, when he did her the service of taking
himself out of her life for ever.

22 LADY BLESSINGTON

And in this way ended the prelude to a career
whose strange surprises, emotional episodes, bril-
liant success, and tragic ending must possess a
seductive charm for all students of life.

CHAPTER II.

An Unprotected Wife — An Unhappy House — A Hateful
Position — Lord Blessington Appeared upon the Scene —
A Tragedy in the Fleet — Freedom and Marriage — An Irish
Welcome — The Mansion in St. James's Square.

;HE return of Margaret Farmer to her
father's home was made unwelcome, and
it seemed as if her unhappiness was
destined to continue ; for her parents resented as
they might a reproof the fact of her marriage
having turned out miserably, and, instead of re-
garding her as its victim, treated her as if she were
responsible for its wretchedness. Not only had she
been of no service in helping to marry her sister
Ellen, or in forwarding the fortunes of her family,
but she had come back upon their hands a burden.
Her father behaved toward her with moroseness,
her mother assumed the airs of a martyr, and her
only comfort was in her brothers and sisters, who
pitied her as openly as they dared without drawing
down on themselves the fire and fury of the head
of the house. As the cool resentment with which
she was at first received gradually wore away, it
was succeeded by a more active hostility. She

23

24 THE MOST GORGEOUS

was now referred to as an interloper, whose expe-
rience was likely to interfere with her sister's
prospects of settlement.

Her sister Ellen, a year younger than Margaret,
had already gained much admiration in Clonmel
society and at garrison balls, and was regarded by
her parents as the beauty of the family. With
classically cut features, a pale clear complexion,
large calm blue eyes, her face had the symmetry
and repose of statuary, her figure was excessively
graceful, and, like her sister, she possessed a natu-
ral air of refinement and dignity. So far as regu-
larity and modelling of feature went, she had the
advantage of her elder sister; but the latter had
an intelligence and piquancy of expression that
gave her a fascination which Ellen, cold and
placid, entirely lacked. Her youngest sister, Mary
Anne, was then a child of about eight.

Even at this time Beau Power, who every day
advanced deeper into the mire of debt, managed
to keep open house ; and not only entertained the
officers stationed in the garrison, but also the
judges and lawyers who visited the town during
the assizes. Like most men who are tyrants at
home, he could be bland and amusing abroad ; and
he readily gathered around his table men willing
to enjoy his hospitality.

Amongst such were not wanting many who
ardently admired the wife of sixteen summers,
beautiful, intelligent, and unhappy, whose situa

LADY BLESSINGTON 25

tion, deprived as she was of the protection of
a husband or the care of a father, seemed to make
way for their advances. Wherever she went she
was pursued by suitors who sought to take her
from her father's house. Amongst them was a
man of fascinating personality, wealthy, and con-
nected with the nobility, whom she had learned to
care for and with whom she would have gone had
she not heard that he was married, when she re-
fused to destroy another woman's happiness even
to secure her own.

Another suitor was Captain Thomas Jenkins, of
the nth Light Dragoons, whose regiment was sta-
tioned in the neighbouring town of Tullow, a mem-
ber of an old Hampshire family, with an income
of between six and eight thousand a year, amiable
and generous, who added polished manners to the
attraction of a handsome person. For a long time
she refused to listen to his proposals, and would
probably have continued to do so had not news
reached her that Farmer, after spending a couple
of years abroad, during which he had taken to
drink, had now left the East India Company's
service, and was on Jiis way home, with the avowed
intention of forcing her to live with him.

No more terrifying prospect could be placed
before her. She had for nearly three years suf-
fered in silence the wretchedness of her humiliat-
ing position in her father's home, which every day
became more hateful ; but life with a drunkard

26 THE MOST GORGEOUS

and a lunatic, to whom she knew her parents would
willingly give her up, would be unendurable. In
her plight she turned for advice to Major, after-
ward Sir Edward Blakeney, then on duty with his
regiment in Clonmel, an elderly, kind-hearted, hon-
ourable man, in whose friendship she trusted. As
the result of her consultation with him, she left
her father's house with Captain Jenkins, whom,
without loving, she esteemed as a friend, when
he took her to live in Hampshire.

The position which seemed forced upon her by
circumstances was odious to her, and left behind
it a memory, which, cloudiike, came between her
and the sun of her happiness throughout her life.
Her most earnest efforts were, not only by her
demeanour, but by her dress, to avoid everything
which might remind her or others of her situation,
and in this she was seconded by Captain Jenkins.

No greater delicacy, respect, or affection could
be shown her were she his wife ; yet the costly
presents which he delighted in lavishing on her,
and she found herself obliged to accept, humiliated
her. In the meantime, her position was perhaps
rendered less trying by the conduct of his family ;
for, seeing her retiring manners and the good in-
fluence she exercised over him in preventing the
ruinous extravagance in which he had formerly
indulged, they by kindness and friendship treated
her in every way as if she were his wife.

She had been living under the protection of

LADY BLESSINGTON 27

Captain Jenkins for some six years when Lord
Blessington, then a widower, came on a visit to
the latter for a few weeks' hunting. The earl
was not unknown to Margaret Farmer ; for soon
after her marriage, the Tyrone Militia, whose lieu-
tenant-colonel was Viscount Mountjoy, afterward
Earl of Blessington, had been stationed at Clon-
mel; so that it was in Ireland she had first met
the man whose life she was fated to influence,
whose rank and wealth aided her beauty and tal-
ents to exercise the brilliant sway they were later
to obtain.

This renewal of acquaintance soon led to warmer
feelings on the earl's part. His admiration of
Margaret Farmer gradually deepened, until at last
he offered to make her his wife, contingent on her
obtaining a divorce from her husband, he mean-
while providing her with a home, but treating her
merely as one to whom he was engaged. The
prospect of being relieved from her present posi-
tion, which time had not helped to render less
humiliating, and of becoming a wife, was hailed
by her with infinite relief and gratitude. Her feel-
ings underwent no change toward Captain Jenkins,
whom without loving she had liked. He had now
to be consulted, and, on learning Lord Blessington's
intentions, set aside all considerations of self which
would interfere with her chances of happiness.

Lord Blessington therefore took a house in
Manchester Square, London, for Margaret Farmer,

28 THE MOST GORGEOUS

who lived here in charge of her brother Robert,
who was now made agent for the Blessington
estates. And no sooner had she parted from Cap-
tain Jenkins, than Lord Blessington sent him a
cheque for ten thousand pounds, the presumed
value of the jewels and apparel given by Jenkins
to Margaret Farmer, which he accepted. Before
taking up her residence in Manchester Square, it
had been stipulated by her that she and the earl
should live apart until such time as her divorce
could be obtained, a compact which was strictly
kept, — a statement made on the authority of Mr.
Taggart, a friend of Lord Blessington, whom he
represented in selecting this establishment.

Before the divorce was obtained, however, death
had freed her. On Farmer's return from India,
he had remained in London, where he sought the
society of those not calculated to cure his love of
drink. In October, 1817, he obtained an appoint-
ment in the service of the Spanish Patriots, and
before quitting England betook himself one night
to bid farewell to some boon companions whose
habits had brought them to the King's Bench
Prison. In those days prisoners of the Fleet were
allowed to receive and to entertain their friends in
what fashion they pleased, so long as they paid,
and Captain Farmer had been a frequent and a
riotous visitor to certain individuals there confined.

On the occasion of this his last visit, the party
had finished four quarts of rum, and were all drunk

LADY BLESSINGTON 29

when Farmer rose to leave. He had no sooner
stated his intention of quitting them, than, his
companionship being coveted by his friends, they
locked the door to prevent his departure. Now
fearing they were going to keep him all night, as
they had done more than once before, he rushed
to the window, which he threw up, and threatened
to jump out if they did not set him free. His
threat was met with a chorus of drunken and
incredulous laughter which set this valiant man
upon his mettle, and, to show them he was ready
to keep his word, he scrambled out upon the ledge,
where he remained, arguing solemnly with the
merry group inside, whose faces, flushed by drink,
were lighted by wax candles standing on a liquor-
stained table. Suddenly, by a heedless move, he
lost his balance, fell, and frantically clutched with
nerveless fingers the ledge, from which he hung
some seconds, his wild eyes taking their last look
on life in staring at the awed group within, his
sobered mind realising that certain death waited
him in the darkness yawning below.

As his companions, helpless to save because of
their muddled brains and paralysed limbs, still
looked, they saw the space his head had* rilled
suddenly become empty, and, whilst holding each
his breath, heard a sickening thud. Then all was
still. Farmer, in whom, when found, life still
flickered, was carried to the Middlesex Hospital,
where he died next day.

30 THE MOST GORGEOUS

There was now nothing to prevent the earl's
marriage with the woman he loved, • — a marriage
which, four months later, on the i6th of February,
1818, took place by special license at the Bryans-
ton Square Church, when Margaret Farmer became
Marguerite, Countess of Blessington ; and in this
manner was raised to a rank she was in all ways
fitted to fill, and gained a title eventually to be
associated with the most brilliant circle of her
day, a title which yet conjures up a host of mem-
orable associations.

Lady Blessington had not at this time reached
her thirtieth year, and the joyousness of life lay
before her. The attractions of her youth had
deepened with her years ; education, sorrow, and
experience had united in giving her mind a breadth
and training which her face expressed. The wist-
fulness of her eyes, the sweetness of her smile, the
piquancy of her features, her grace of movement,
her charm of manner, and the melody of her voice
combined to make her a fascinating woman.

The man who loved her was but seven years her
senior, and, like herself, was Irish by birth and de-
scent. His father, Viscount Mountjoy and Baron
Mount joy in the county of Tyrone, had been a well-
known figure in the Irish Parliament, where he had
warmly advocated the claims of Catholics to equal-
ity of legislation, and had taken an active part in
the suppression of the rebellion of 1798, when he
was shot in the battle of New Ross at the head of

LADY BLESSINGTON 31

his regiment. At the age of seventeen the second
husband of Margaret Farmer had been left lord of
himself and of a handsome fortune, which through-
out his life he endeavoured to spend right royally.
He had been educated at Eton and at Christ
Church, Oxford, and at twenty-three had been
appointed lieutenant-colonel of the Tyrone Militia.
In 1809 he was elected a representative peer for
Ireland, and two years before his second mar-
riage had been advanced to the earldom of
Blessington.

Loaded with wealth and honour, the world was a
sunny place in his sight ; young and handsome, he
accepted the favours it offered him and enjoyed
its pleasures to the full. No brighter youth danced
in satin breeches and velvet coat at Almacks ; none
gayer gave delicious suppers in the lamp-lit bowers
of Vauxhall Gardens. Tall, vigorous, bright-eyed,
and winsome, generous to extravagance and sweet-
natured, he was caressed by all who, like himself,
loved gaiety and seized the sunshine of the passing
hour.

Byron remembered him " in all the glory of gems
and snuff-boxes, and uniforms and theatricals, sit-
ting to Strolling, the painter, to be depicted as one
of the heroes of Agincourt" For theatricals he
had a special taste, and regarded himself as an
accomplished actor. Indeed, for several years he
entertained his friends at Mountjoy Forest, Ty-
rone, for three or four weeks at a time, with plays

32 THE MOST GORGEOUS

performed in a spacious theatre he had built, and
acted by players from Dublin and London, he
taking prominent parts in the casts, — his house
crowded with guests, who were overwhelmed with
the most lavish hospitality. In London, also, he
concerned himself with the drama, and was one of
the noblemen who assisted at the farewell banquet
given to John Philip Kemble in July, 1817.

As Viscount Mount joy, George the Fourth had
shown him the favour of his countenance, and
when the viscount became an earl, his Majesty, who
was busy in trumping up charges against his queen,
said : " I hope I shall find in Blessington as warm a
friend as I found in Mount joy," to which the new
peer replied that he was afraid the prosecution of
her Majesty would make the king unpopular, and
that he never could be the advocate of a measure
that might lead to recrimination.

When about twenty-seven years old, Lord Bless-
ington had met a lady named Brown, whose
beauty was the means of parting her from her
husband, a major in the army. Enthusiastic in all
things, but especially in love, the gallant carried
away the woman who charmed him, buying a
residence for her at Worthing and another in
Portman Square. She bore him two children, a
boy and a girl, before her husband was considerate
enough to die, when my lord made her my lady, in
gratitude for which she bore him two other children,
also a girl and a boy, Lady Harriet Anne Frances

LADY BLESSINGTON 33

Gardiner, and the Right Hon. Luke Wellington,
Viscount Mount] oy.

Soon after the birth of this legitimate heir, the
mother became ill, when her husband decided to
take her to France, with the hope of benefiting her
health. They had not journeyed farther than St.
Germains when she retired from life, and furnished
my lord with an opportunity of indulging his theat-
rical tastes by providing a funeral which became
the talk of three European capitals and cost him
from three to four thousand pounds. This event
took place in September, 1814, and three years and
five months later Lord Blessington married Mar-
garet Farmer. In the beginning of his career the
earl's income was thirty thousand a year, but, owing
to his extravagant habits and the various encum-
brances charged upon the estate, it had dwindled to
between twenty-three and twenty-four thousand a
year at the time of his second marriage, — a splen-
did fortune in itself for the daughter of a ruined
squireen.

Soon after this marriage, Lord Blessington took
his bride to Ireland, when they stayed at Mount joy
Forest. Preparations for their visit had been
made ; the tenantry, who worshipped a landlord
who never had evicted one of them nor allowed them
to be distressed for rent, formed themselves into a
lane miles long, to hail his arrival and that of his
beautiful bride ; their faces lit with welcome, their
voices ringing blessings, their arms outstretched in

34 THE MOST GORGEOUS

friendship to my lady and my lord. And no sooner
had the carriage passed than they followed, a wild,
shouting, gesticulating throng, whose hearts, bound-
ing in the joy of greeting, touched the hearts of
those they cheered, — a greeting whose accents
sounded with old familiar sweetness to one of
those who heard.

The residence which they were to occupy for
a short time had been decorated and furnished
anew, with what extravagance may be imagined,
when it is stated that Lady Blessington found
her private sitting-room "hung with crimson
Genoa silk velvet, trimmed with gold bullion
fringe, and all the furniture of equal richness, —
a richness that was only suited to a state room
in a palace." Mount joy Forest now became the
scene of the most extravagant hospitality. Din-
ners, balls, parties followed each other in rapid
succession ; every day had its fresh form of enter-
tainment, and neither exertion nor wealth was
spared to mark the significance of the bridal visit.
But she whom it was intended to honour seems
to have taken little enjoyment in this continual
revel ; the fact being that the country soon bored
her, though not so much as its rough-hewn, deep-
drinking gentry, whose hearts were honest, but
whose manners were unpolished ; who, though in
some cases the descendants of native princes, were
in most instances illiterate.

She therefore induced her husband to leave

LADY BLESSINGTON 35

Ireland much sooner than he had intended, and
to return to London, where she was anxious to
begin her career as a leader of society. The house
she had formerly occupied in Manchester Square
was given up, and a mansion rented in St. James's
Square, that was fitted up with all the magnifi-
cence which taste could suggest or money pur-
chase.

Lord Blessington's high position, varied tastes,
and engaging manners had made him acquainted
with the most distinguished personages in Lon-
don ; politicians, writers, statesmen, poets, and
travellers. And they, being made welcome to a
palatial home, where they found a hostess beau-
tiful and accomplished, frankly desirous to please,
willing to give homage to genius, not unwilling to
receive praise, quick to perceive merit, with all the
tact of the Celt, gentle-voiced and charming, read-
ily came again and again, bringing others in their
train ; until by degrees the mansion in St. James's
Square became noted as a centre where the most
brilliant and distinguished men of the day congre-
gated around one of the most fascinating women
of the period.

In her spacious drawing-rooms, with their fres-
coed ceilings, their chandeliers of crystal and
silver, their priceless pictures, and Oriental em-
broideries, and their general air of splendour,
Whigs for awhile forgot their hatred of Tories,'
men of fashion rubbed shoulders with men of

36 THE MOST GORGEOUS

letters, and royal dukes were as humble subjects
before her whom nature had made regal. Here
came my Lord Palmerston to divest himself of
the cares of state, and hear John Philip Kemble,
now retired, speak of his past glories ; here Tom
Moore related to his hostess the last news received
from Byron, her meeting with whom was later on
to form an episode in her life; here young Lord
Castlereagh, handsome, extravagant, talented, a
poet and a traveller, gained more attention than
his gifts alone would have obtained for him, from
the fact that he had figured in a romance with a
voluptuous Venetian, whose husband had shot him
through the arm. Sir Thomas Laurence came to
see her whose beauty had given him the oppor-
tunity of painting his finest portrait ; and with
him his brother in art, Wilkie ; Samuel Rogers,
banker and poet ; Earl Russell, James Scarlett,
afterward Lord Abinger ; Lord Brougham, vehe-
ment and witty; Jekyll, and Erskine, and Earl
Grey, my lady's warm admirer and devoted friend,
besides a host of others, congregated in her home.

Amongst literary men bidden to her house were
Byron's friend, the Hon. Douglas Kinnaird, who
had adapted Fletcher's comedy, "The Merchant
of Bruges," which was produced at Drury Lane,
William Jerdan, John Gait, and Dr. Samuel Parr.

William Jerdan was then an author of repute,
having published a number of novels, and was,
moreover, editor of The Literary Gazette, a jour-

LADY BLESSINGTON 37

nal whose praise or blame made or marred a book,
so great was its influence in literary circles. Witty
and wise by turns, he was always warmly welcomed
by his hostess, and became her frequent guest.
" The more I saw and knew of her," he wrote
years later, " the more I loved her kind and gen-
erous nature, her disposition to be good to all, her
faithful energy to serve her friends. Full of fine
taste, intelligence, and imagination, she was indeed
a lovable woman ; and by a wide circle she was
regarded as the centre of a highly intellectual and
brilliant society."

John Gait, a native of Ayrshire, who has been
described as being as wise as a sage and as simple
as a child, equally shrewd and credulous, as emi-
nently practical as he was fancifully imaginative,
was likewise her devoted friend. He had begun
his career in commerce, but, launching into poetry
had produced tragedies which were pronounced by
Sir Walter Scott "the worst ever seen." He had
travelled, and had become acquainted with Lord
Byron, of whom he delighted to talk; and his
powers of persuasion may be estimated when it is
stated that he induced Colburn to issue a monthly
publication, called The Rejected Theatre, that con-
tained plays refused by London managers, whose
want of judgment and enterprise were in this man-
ner cruelly exposed, and they brought to shame.
His own plays, of course, held a great part of this
magazine, which, it is fair to state, survived a year.

38 THE MOST GORGEOUS

What, perhaps, gained him a place in Lady Bless-
ington's drawing-room was the fact that he had,
soon after her marriage, made a genuine success
by publishing his novel, "The Ayrshire Legatees,"
which first ran through BlackwoocTs Magazine,
and so exalted him that he boasted that his lit-
erary resources were superior to Sir Walter Scott,
with whom he resolved to compete in historical
fiction.

A more remarkable figure was Dr. Samuel Parr,
who appeared at her receptions in a full-dress suit
of black velvet, a powdered wig covering his mas-
sive head, his rugged features lighted by piercing
eyes, which he boasted he could " inflict " on those
he wished to subdue. Doctor Parr, who was at this
time drawing near his eightieth year, was a learned
scholar, a prebend of St. Paul's, a rector, an au-
thor, an ex-schoolmaster, and a contributor to the
British Critic.

When a schoolmaster at Stanmore, it had been
his custom to stalk through the town in a dirty
striped morning-gown ; to flog his pupils with
vigour, and to arrange that their fights should
take place at a spot where he could see and enjoy
them from his study windows.

In 1820, he caused a sensation by entering a
solemn protest in the parish prayer-book against
the omission from the liturgy of George the
Fourth's injured wife, Queen Caroline. More-
over, he visited her Majesty, and was appointed

LADY BLESSINGTON 39

her first chaplain. The doctor was an ardent
lover of tobacco, and smoked his twenty pipes
regularly of an evening ; nay, during intervals of
the services he conducted, he used to retire to the
vestry that he might enjoy a whiff ; but, on being
introduced to Lady Blessington, he vowed he would
sacrifice his pipe to spend an evening in her com-
pany, and no higher estimate of the pleasure she
afforded him could he give. So delighted was he
with her graciousness, and so impressed by her
appearance, that, from the period of his first visit,
he styled her "the most gorgeous Lady Bless-
ington," a phrase that passed into common use
amongst her friends.

One evening, some three years after her estab-
lishment at St. James's Square, the groom of the
chambers announced a name that was unfamiliar,
and there entered her drawing-room, brilliant with
the light of innumerable candles and voiceful with
the sound of a hundred tongues, a young French-
man, then strange to her, whose history was subse-
quently to become intimately interwoven with her
own ; whose friendship, keeping loyal, sweetened
her life and survived her death. He had been
brought to her reception by his brother-in-law,
the Comte de Grammont, both of them being on
a brief visit to London. This was Count Alfred
d'Orsay, then just one and twenty, a descendant
on the maternal side from the Kings of Wurtem-
berg, and on the paternal side from one of the

40 THE MOST GORGEOUS

most ancient families in France. His singularly
handsome appearance was a hereditary gift, his
father, known in his youth as Le Beau d'Orsay,
having elicited from Napoleon the remark that he
would make an admirable model for Jupiter. The
beauty of Count Alfred d' Or say's person was en-
hanced by his great physical strength ; moreover,
he was brilliant as a conversationalist, soldierly in
bearing, a lover of art, skilled in all manly exer-
cises, and elegant in his attire ; one, in fact, whom
nature richly endowed, and whom fate deigned to
figure in romance.

At an early age he had entered the Garde de
Corps of the restored Bourbon ; he had already
shown great skill in painting ; his modelling was
later to bring him fame as a sculptor ; whilst his
journal kept in London was, when shown to Lord
Byron, pronounced by the poet " a very extraordi-
nary production and of a most melancholy truth in
all that regards high life in England."

With the courtly manners of the old regime,
with an ardent admiration for women's beauty,
an appreciation for talent, endowed with a sunny
youth, regarding whose undefmable future it was
interesting to speculate, he stood before Lady
Blessington a dazzling personality in a crowd
where all were brilliant. For a moment, as it
were, the circles of their lives touched to part
for the present ; for D'Orsay was soon obliged
to return to France ; and at this time she had no

LADY BLESSINGTON 41

intention of taking that journey which was destined
to become so eventful in her career.

With the change in her fortunes Lady Blessing-
ton was not forgetful of her family. Indeed, a rich
generosity was a distinguishing trait amongst her
many fine qualities. Long-expected ruin having
overtaken her worthless father, he with his wife
left Clonmel and settled in Dublin ; and they,
having no means of subsistence, were supported
for the remainder of their lives by Lady Blessing-
ton and her sister Ellen. The latter had been
invited to England by Margaret before her mar-
riage with the earl, and had become the wife of
John Home Purves, son of a Scotch baronet.
After the death of her first husband, with whom
she did not live happily, she married, in 1828, the
Right Honourable Charles Manners Sutton, son
of the Archbishop of Canterbury, and for eighteen
years Speaker of the House of Commons, on retir-
ing from which office he received a pension of four
thousand a year, and was raised to the peerage as
Viscount Canterbury.

Her second and youngest sister, Mary Anne,
styled Marianne by the countess, was adopted
and educated by her, and eventually married to
an old French noble, the Comte St. Marsault,
from whom she soon separated. Her eldest
brother Michael had got a commission, probably
through Lady Blessington's interest, in the 2d
West India Regiment, and died abroad ; whilst

42 THE MOST GORGEOUS

her second and youngest brother Robert was,
as already mentioned, agent of the Blessington
estates.

Four years after her marriage, at the close of
the summer 1822, she and her husband resolved
to leave town for the coming winter; but their
choice of residences lay far apart, he wishing to
stay in Ireland whilst she desired to visit Italy.
Whether her reluctance to live in her native land
was due to the unpleasantness of early associa-
tions, or to some slight received from the earl's
sisters, one of whom was wife of the Bishop of
Ossory, cannot be said ; but the fact remains she
never visited Ireland a second time as Countess of
Blessington. Regarding the unwillingness she had
expressed to take up her residence at Mount joy
Forest, John Gait writes to her at some length, in
a letter dated July 27, 1822, which says :

" MY DEAR MADAM : — On Monday evening I was so
distinctly impressed with the repugnance which your lady-
ship feels at the idea of going to Ireland, that I entered
entirely into your feelings ; but, upon reflection, I cannot
recall all the reasonableness of the argument, — a circum-
stance so unusual with respect to your ladyship's reasons in
general, that I am led to think that some other cause at the
moment must have tended to molest you, and to lend the
energy of its effect to the expressions of your reluctance.
For I have often remarked that the gnat's bite, or a momen-
tary accident, will sometimes change the whole complexion
of the mind for a time. But even though nothing of the
sort had happened, the scores and hundreds, amounting to

LADY BLESSINGTON 43

thousands, of the poor Irish in quest of employment whom
I have met on the road and seen landing here, and the jeal-
ousy with which they are viewed by the common people,
and the parochial burdens which they may occasion in the
contemplation of the best of the community, many of whom
are loud in their reflections on the Irish absentees, all com-
bine to form such a strong case for my lord's journey that
nothing but the apprehension of your ladyship's indisposi-
tion can be pled against it. The journey, however, to be
really useful, should be one of observation only, and I am
sure you will easily persuade him to make it so, and to be
resolved not to listen to any complaint with a view to deci-
sion in Ireland, or to embark in any new undertaking. If
he once allow himself to be appealed to on the spot, he
must of necessity become affected by local circumstances
and individual impartialities, by which, instead of doing
general good (all a personage of his rank can do), he will
become the mere administrator of petty relief, which in their
effect may prove detrimental to higher objects ; and were
he to engage in new undertakings — to say nothing of pecu-
niary considerations — his thoughts would become occupied
with projects which, of every kind of favouritism, is the
most fatal to the utility of a public character, such as my
lord seems now fairly set in to become. In speaking thus,
I address you more as an intellect than a lady^ and the
interest I take in all that concerns my friends must be
accepted as the only excuse I can offer for the freedom.
" I really know not what apology to make to your lady-
ship for all this impertinence ; but somehow, since I have
had the honour and pleasure of knowing you and my lord
so freely, I feel as if we were old friends ; indeed, how can
it be otherwise, for no other human beings, unconnected by
the common ties, have ever taken half so much interest in
at once adding to my enjoyments and consideration. I am
sensible not only of having acquired a vast accession of

44 THE MOST GORGEOUS

what the world calls advantages, but also friends who seem
to understand me, and that, too, at a period when I regarded
myself as in some degree quite alone, for all my early inti-
mates were dead. Your ladyship must therefore submit to
endure a great deal more than perhaps I ought to say on
so short an acquaintance ; but as minds never grow old, and
frankness makes up at once the intimacy of years, I find
myself warranted to say that I am almost an ancient, as
I am ever your ladyship's faithful and sincere friend."

It is almost needless to say that Lady Blessing-
ton's wishes were carried out by a husband so
devoted to her ; and in the month of August,
1822, they made preparations to leave England
for an indefinite period. A journey abroad was
in those days considered a formidable undertaking,
especially for people of rank and fashion, who took
with them their own carriages and servants, kitchen
utensils and table appointments, not to speak of
huge boxes containing their wardrobes. Before
quitting the home where she had known such
splendour, Lady Blessington tells us that she went
through the rooms looking at the pictures and the
furniture with a melancholy feeling she did not
expect to experience in starting on a tour to which
she had long looked forward. Almost at the
moment of her departure she wished she were
not going. "What changes, what dangers may
come before I sleep again beneath this roof.
Perhaps I may never — but I must not give way
to such sad forebodings," she writes in the diary

LADY BLESSINGTON 45

she now began to keep ; and she adds a passage
regarding the pain she felt at taking leave of
friends, for "even those whose society afforded
little pleasure assume a new interest at parting."

Leaving London on the 25th, they reached
Calais two days later, having made the journey
in an overcrowded packet under gloomy and
threatening skies, that lent a leaden-green colour
to the sea. They reached Paris by the end of the
month ; and the following day, September the ist,
was her birthday, whose recurrence, she writes, is
enough to produce melancholy recollections. " In
England I should experience these doleful feelings,
but at Paris tristesse and sentimentality would be
misplaced ; so I must look couleur de rose, and
receive the congratulations of my friends on add-
ing another year to my age — a subject far from
meriting congratulations when one has passed
thirty. Youth is like health, — we never value the
possession of either until they have begun to
decline."

Whilst in Paris they met Tommy Moore, whom
they asked to dinner. My lady thought the din-
ners at the hotel execrable, but she detested going
to a restaurant, as was even then the fashion for
English people ; consequently she preferred a bad
dinner at home, and this the poet was invited to
share, though she thought it unworthy of his
acceptance. " A mouth that utters such brilliant
things," she writes, " should only be fed on dainty

46 THE MOST GORGEOUS

ones ; and as his skill in gastronomy nearly equals
his skill in poetry, a failure in one art must be
almost as trying to his temper as the necessity of
reading a failure in the other ; nay, it would be
worse, for one may laugh at a bad poem, but who
has philosophy enough to laugh at a bad dinner ? "
She goes on to say that a perfect French dinner is
like the conversation of a highly educated man ;
enough of the raciness of the inherent natural
quality remains to gratify his taste, but rendered
more attractive by the manner in which it is
presented.

"An old nobleman used to say that he could
judge of a man's birth by the dishes he preferred,
but above all by the vegetables : truffles, morels,
mushrooms, and peas in their infancy, he designated
as aristocratic vegetables ; but all the vast stock
of beans, full-grown peas, carrots, turnips, parsnips,
cauliflowers, onions, etc., he said were only fit for
the vulgar."

Moore spent some time with them and took the
countess to La Montagne Russe, " a very childish
but exhilarating amusement," in which the poet
frequently indulged. She thought it "pleasant to
observe with what a true zest he enters into every
scheme of amusement, though the buoyancy of his
spirits and resources of his mind render him so
independent of such means of passing time. His
is a happy temperament that conveys the idea of
having never outlived the sunshine."

LADY BLESSINGTON 47

The time she passed in a Parisian hotel does
not seem to have been pleasant, for the indifference
of foreign ears to noise was as remarkable then as
now. The neighing of horses and the rumble of
wheels in the courtyard, the swearing of coachmen
and the grumbling of porters, the shrill voices of
women, the singing of lackeys, the talking of a
parrot, the barking of a dog, and the ringing of
bells prevented her from sleeping. Then her own
servants began to murmur at what they considered
their hardships, and to sigh for the fleshpots of
England. The maids longed for their tea and
toast ; the men felt the loss of their beef and beer.
" I have observed," she says, " that persons accus-
tomed from infancy to the utmost luxury can
better submit to the privations occasioned by
travelling than can their servants."

She was not sorry to leave Paris after a stay of
ten days, and one morning the courtyard was full
of their carriages, which were being packed anew.
A crowd of valets and footmen were hoisting
heavy trunks into their places ; the maids had
their arms full of cushions and books for my lady's
special carriage; the courier went to and fro ex-
amining the springs ; the majordomo saw that the
plate was safely stored away in the chaise seat.
In the " capacious fourgon " were already packed
various articles considered indispensable to the
traveller, such as a patent brass bed, easy chairs
and sofas, readily folded, batteries de cuisine for

48 THE MOST GORGEOUS

the benefit of the cook who accompanied them,
and cases that held " delicate chapeaux, toques,
btrets, and bonnets too fragile to bear the less
easy motion of leathern bandboxes crowning im-
perials." No wonder that Lady Blessington,
waiting in her room above, heard a Frenchman
express his wonder at the strangeness of these
foreigners and ask if all these coaches and this
luggage belonged to the one proprietor. When
answered in the affirmative, he remarked, "One
would suppose that, instead of a single family, a
regiment at least was about to move. How many
things those people require to satisfy them ! "

On leaving London Lady Blessington had taken
with her Mary Anne Power, her youngest sister ;
and having met Count D'Orsay in Paris, they in-
vited him to join them, which he willingly did, but
not until they had reached Avignon. A pleasure-
seeking party, they travelled with leisurely dignity
through Switzerland and the south of France,
engaging in some places a whole hotel at an ex-
orbitant price, seeing all that was curious or inter-
esting, and scattering money with a liberality
supposed to belong to royalty. At Avignon they
were visited by the poet laureate of the town, who
presented them with a congratulatory ode and re-
tired from their presence, happy in the possession
of a donation, leaving them wondering, if, as he
stated, he lived on his wits, how he could exist on
so slender a capital. At Nice they were greeted

LADY BLESSINGTON 49

by school children dressed in their holiday attire,
who offered them bouquets ; at Aix they received,
on leaving, farewell gifts of orange-flower water,
bonbons, and roses ; so that their tour was a
triumphant progress such as would be impossible
in these later, more prosaic days of undignified
haste.

The diary kept by Lady Blessington during her
travels is mainly devoted to descriptions of and
comments on places visited and sights that im-
pressed. All that would have abounded with
interest for the modern reader — vignettes of
domestic life, etchings of herself and her com-
panions, touches of nature which lend human
interest to every-day occurrences — is omitted
from volumes intended for the public, the pages
which are most interesting being those in which
she describes her meeting for the first time with
Lord Byron, this taking place in Genoa, a city
she reached after nearly eight months of travel.

CHAPTER III.

Lord Byron — A Hero of Romance and an Object of Hatred —
Storm in the Social Atmosphere — In Venice — The Rosiest
Romance of His Life — A Bride of Sixteen — Inexorable
Fate — In Ravenna — A Poet's Love-letter — A Philosophic
Husband — Count Guiccioli Becomes Uncivil — Strife and
Separation — Byron Is Summoned — A Common Disturber
— In Pisa — A Ghost-haunted Palace — Banishment — A
New Residence Sought — The Villa at Albero — Lady Bless-
ington's Hopes — Lines Written in Her Diary.

[T this time Lord Byron, as a poet and
as a man, exercised a fascination difficult
for later generations to appreciate, — a
fascination due to the brilliancy of his genius, to
the beauty of his person, to the mystery and
melancholy with which he endeavoured to enwrap
himself, and to the reputation gained for the
extravagance and romance of his amours.

The descendant of " those Byrons of Normandy
who had accompanied William the Conqueror into
England," he had the, hot blood of adventurous
ancestors in his veins ; and, whilst yet a youth,
had plunged into the lower depths of life from
which he had returned saturated with a cynicism
he never failed to express. Before reaching his

so

LADY BLESSINGTON 51

majority he had delighted the town with his
"Hours of Idleness," and punished his critics in
" English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," after
which, chiefly from a desire to escape from the
solitude that even at so early a period closed
around his inner life, — that solitude from which
even in the midst of crowds the poet is sure to
suffer, — and partly to dissipate the restlessness
which is the travailing of genius, he had travelled
through Italy and Spain to Turkey and Greece at
a time when such a voyage was an uncommon
occurrence.

On his return, he had entered society for the
first time. A peer of the realm, a poet, satirist,
and traveller, dowered with the freshness and the
grace of youth, daring in his aspirations, defiant
of convention, hating the cant that encrusted his
country, he stood before men a singular and un-
solved problem, a genius not understood of his
kind ; one whose personality compelled admiration,
indulgence in which, women intuitively recognised,
might lead to danger.

The years that followed his return to England
saw the publication of poems that, with their
metrical sweep, their seething passion, the melan-
choly sea-surge and fret of their moods, their
bitter sarcasm, and open cynicism, made his name
known to the world. Then came the fatal mistake
of his life, his marriage with Miss Milbanke, a
paragon of perfection, wholly unfitted for and

52 THE MOST GORGEOUS

unworthy of the human nature of which poets are
made. This event took place on the 2d of Janu-
ary, 1815, a day which to his impressionable mind
was burdened by melancholy and darkened by
presentiments, which, twelve months later, were
verified when his wife parted from him for ever.
In December she had given birth to a daughter,
and the following month started from London to
visit her father in Leicestershire, taking leave of
Byron with the utmost kindness, and on the under-
standing that he was shortly to join her. On her
way she wrote him a letter full of affectionate
playfulness; but soon after she had reached her
destination, her father wrote to say she had re-
solved never to return to her husband.

This came upon Byron as a shock which the
embarrassments of his fortunes at this time did
not help him to bear. Eventually, all efforts of
his at reconciliation being rejected, he signed a
deed of separation which left him " without rational
hope for the future." This was but the beginning
of a period of bitterness which was to last through
his life. A. storm in the social atmosphere now
broke above his head, such as perhaps never as-
sailed unhappy mortal before. Vague hints, dark
insinuations, charges of profligacy and madness,
swelled an overpowering chorus of accusation.
Those envious of merit, those who, wanting in
virtue, hasten to assail its violation in others that
suspicion may be diverted from themselves, the

LADY BLESSINGTON 53

entertaining society scandal-monger, the carica-
turist, the vicious paragraphist, attacked with a
strength of numbers and unity of force there was
no counting or combating.

To invite him to her house was an act of civility
for which few hostesses found sufficient courage ;
to defend him was to involve the defender in a
suspicion of vileness. The charges of cant against
his countrymen, his laughter at mediocrity, the
scoffings at convention, in which he had so fre-
quently indulged, were now avenged. The gnats
stung him to desperation, and, three months after
his wife had left him, he quitted England, never
more to return.

Whilst in Switzerland, by the advice of his
friend, Madame de Stae'l, he made another effort
at reconciliation, which, like the first, was rejected
by Lady Byron. Then making a tour of the
Bernese Alps, he entered Italy, a country which,
because of the colour of its skies and its seas, the
light steeping its lands, the pagan-heartedness of
its people, beautiful in themselves, and worshippers
of beauty in nature, had already thrown its fascina-
tion upon him.

He took up his residence in Venice, and it was
whilst living in this city of the sea, in fair spring
weather, that the rosiest romance in his life was
begun, — a romance which the limit of his days
was not destined to outrun, — for here it was, in
April, 1819, that he met the young Countess

54 THE MOST GORGEOUS

Guiccioli, the descendant of an ancient and historic
line, and the third wife of a wealthy old noble,
to whom, at the age of sixteen, her parents had
sacrificed her.

Looking back upon their meeting with the eyes
of lovers, it seemed to the poet and the countess
like an arrangement of inexorable fate. Madame
Guiccioli had been bidden to a party by the Count-
ess Benzoni, but on the evening it took place felt
so fatigued that she wished to absent herself, and
it was only in obedience to her veteran husband,
proud of his fair child-wife, that she reluctantly
consented to be present; whilst Byron, who
shrank from appearing in crowds, presented him-
self in this out of mere courtesy to the hostess,
whose friendship he valued. When requested by
her to allow himself to be introduced to the Count-
ess Guiccioli, he at first declined, and later con-
sented, that he might not seem uncivil. In this
way, irrespective of their own wills, ignorant of
what it would entail, was their meeting brought
about.

From the first, each read in the eyes of the
other the love which was mutually inspired ; the
love which, later, in the silent waterways of this
dreamlike city, beneath the shadows of its gray
arcades, in the languorous moonlight upon bal-
conies, in the spacious salons of stately palaces,
developed with frequent meeting : the secret they
stored in their hearts, the more sacred for con-

LADY BLESSINGTON 55

cealment, until at last, the consciousness and as-
surance of their absorbing passion set their lives
to music, which their pulses marked, and made the
world around a joy; they most joyous of all be-
neath the glamour and the glory of Italian skies.

But alas for their love, this day-dream was not
of long continuance, for before a month ended,
a month which, to them, was but a breath in the
mouth of time, the Count Guiccioli decided to
leave Venice and return to his home, in Ravenna.
The idea of parting from the man but yesterday
a stranger, and now the dearest of all upon earth,
he who, by some strange power, revealed her to
herself, and woke such feelings as she had never
known her nature to possess, filled her with despair,
sickened her body till it weakened, and made her
think night had untimely darkened the dawn of
her day. The journey, however, was begun, she
seated, pale and frail, a wife of sixteen summers,
beside her aged spouse, in his great coach covered
with armorial bearings and drawn by six horses,
and during the first day's journey she was thrice
seized by fainting fits.

She found strength, however, to write to the
poet wherever she rested on her route ; letters
full of the fervent love that was burning up her
life. In one of these she tells him that the soli-
tude of the place, which before had seemed intol-
erable, was now welcome to her, for it gave her
more opportunity to dwell on the one object

56 THE MOST GORGEOUS

which occupied her heart. And then she prom-
ises to obey his wishes in avoiding all society,
and to devote herself to reading and music, so
that she might please him in every way, and
prove worthy of him so far as she could: for
her hope lay in their meeting once more, a hope
without which life would be unbearable.

The day after writing this letter, whilst making
the final stage of her journey, she was attacked
by an illness for which there was no name, and
carried to her home half dead. The sensitive
nature of this child of the south gave way under
the turbulence of her love, and the longing which
tortured her mind brought a fever which con-
sumed her body, relief only coming when his
letters reached her, expressing his devotion and
his determination to see her.

Toward the end of May she told him she had
prepared all her friends for his visit, which he
might now make, and accordingly, on the 2d of
June, he set out from La Mira, where he had
taken a summer villa, for Ravenna. Scarcely
had he entered the town, when rumours that an
English lord had arrived spread abroad, on which
Count Guiccioli, suspecting the visitor's person-
ality, hastened to his hotel to wait upon Byron,
whom he requested to call upon the countess.

Byron willingly obeyed, and was taken to her
residence, a great, gloomy palace, whose decay but
added to its grandeur, whose solemn and melan-

LADY BLESSINGTON 57

choly atmosphere seemed to hold heavy records
of crime and mystery. Mounting a magnificent
staircase of white marble, he was led to the
woman he loved, who lay in bed, from which
her anxious relatives believed she would never
rise. His pain and grief were intense, but only
his eyes could tell her what he felt, for she was
jealously guarded by the members of her family,
who were natives of Ravenna. His pen, however,
could record something of his feelings, and in writ-
ing to his friend Murray he says of her : " I do not
know what I should do if she died, but I ought to
blow my brains out, — and I hope that I should ; "
whilst to Hoppner he expresses his fears that she
is going into consumption. " Thus it is with every-
thing and everybody for whom I feel anything like
a real attachment," he writes. "'War, death, or
discord doth lay siege to them/ I never could
keep alive a dog that I liked or that liked me."

His presence beside her, the affection he showed
her, did more to restore one who, like all sensitive
and impressionable people, depended on the hap-
piness of her mind for the health of her body, and
in a couple of months she was pronounced con-
valescent.

Byron meanwhile remained in Ravenna.

This ancient town, an early home of Christian
art, where Dante laid him down to rest, basks in
the wide-stretching plain of Lombardy, with its
dense pine forest dividing the city from the sea,

58 THE MOST GORGEOUS

its giant poplars skirting dusty roads, its groves of
olives with their gray -green leaves. Its sun-baked
palaces have each their history, darker perhaps
than their walls ; its innumerable gardens feast
the eyesight with their gorgeous colour; its
domed cathedral speaks of God invisible and
omnipotent ; its gates are ancient, gray, and grass-
grown ; and its atmosphere is rich in dreamy
peace. What better or more fitting place for love
to flourish ?

With these it grew apace, until the count in his
wisdom once more saw fit to visit his estates and
take his young wife with him ; when Byron, impa-
tient and wilful, proposed that she should fly with
him. Such a proposition seemed astonishing to
the mind of an Italian wife ; it was not that she
would not sacrifice everything for his love, but she
considered an elopement unnecessary. Accordingly,
when she and her husband went to Bologna, Byron,
by arrangement, followed next day. " I cannot tell
how our romance will end," he writes, " but it hath
gone on hitherto most erotically. Such perils and
escapes. Juan's are as child's play in comparison."

Having joined his friends at Bologna, they went
to the theatre to see a representation of "Alfieri's
Mirra," when a scene took place in their box : for
Byron, then in an excitable condition, was so much
affected by the play that he was thrown into con-
vulsions, which produced "the agony of reluctant
tears " and choking shudders, witnessing which

LADY BLESSINGTON 59

the sympathetic countess became similarly affected.
Next day both were " ill, languid, and pathetic," as
he narrates ; nor did he soon recover.

Having spent near a month with them here, the
count went on to his Romagnese estates, taking his
wife with him, but leaving her friend behind. This
parting, though it was for a brief time, filled Byron
with melancholy, and his greatest pleasure in his
loneliness was to visit her empty house at the hour
when formerly he had sought her there ; to cause
her apartments to be opened, and sit in them read-
ing her books and writing in their pages. Then he
would pass into the quaint, deserted garden, where
he walked " under a purple canopy of grapes " or
sat by its fountain, whose ripple alone disturbed
the profound stillness of the place. Resting here
one summer day, he was so overcome by the pain
of her absence, by the weirdness of his fancies, by
nervous fears, and desolate forebodings, that he
burst into a passion of tears that wrung his soul.

Here too, in this Italian garden, with its wilder-
ness of roses and the wealth of its perfumes, he
wrote one of the most touching love-letters in the
language, on the last page of a copy of " Corinne "
belonging to the countess.

" MY DEAREST TERESA : — I have read this book in
your garden — my love, you were absent, or else I could not
have read it. It is a favourite book of yours, and the
writer was a friend of mine. You will not understand these
English words, and others will not understand them, — which

60 THE MOST GORGEOUS

is the reason I have not scrawled them in Italian. But you
will recognise the handwriting of him who passionately loved
you, and you will divine that, over a book which was yours,
he could only think of love. In that word, beautiful in all
languages, but most so in yours, — amor mio, — is comprised
my existence here and hereafter. I feel I exist here, and I
fear that I shall exist hereafter — to what purpose you will
decide : my destiny rests with you, and you are a woman
seventeen years of age, and two out of a convent. I wish
you had stayed there, with all my heart — or at least that I
had never met you in your married state.

" But this is too late. I love you, and you love me, — at
least you say so, and act as if you did so, which last is a
great consolation in all events. But I more than love you,
and cannot cease to love you. Think of me sometimes when
the Alps and the ocean divide us — but they never will un-
less you wish it."

A few weeks after this was written, Count Guic-
cioli and his wife returned to Bologna, but they had
not been there long when the former found himself
called to Ravenna on business, and the latter dis-
covered that illness prevented her from accom-
panying him. He therefore left her with Byron,
whose happiness now seemed as great as was his
misery before. And the time of their joyousness
was destined to be prolonged ; for she soon con-
cluded that the air of Ravenna was un suited to
her health, which would soonest return to her in
Venice : to which effect she wrote to her husband.

That philosophic man agreed that she should
once more visit the City of the Sea, and that Lord
Byron should be the companion of her voyage;

LADY BLESSINGTON 6l

and therefore they set out for the place, precious
to them as the scene where first they had met,
made beautiful by memories, a charmed place,
where they were free to live the dreams they once
had dreamt there. In Venice they spent the re-
maining months of summer, and early in autumn
they removed to the poet's villa at La Mira.

In November the count came to Venice, and
presented his spouse with a paper of conditions,
regulations of hours and conduct and morals,
which he insisted on her accepting, and she per-
sisted in refusing. " I am," Byron writes, " ex-
pressly, it should seem, excluded by this treaty, as
an indispensable preliminary ; so that they are in
high discussion, and what the result may be I know
not, particularly as they are consulting friends."
In case that she finally parted with her husband,
Byron had resolved to retire with her to France
or to America, where, under a changed name, he
would lead a quiet, provincial life.

After a considerable struggle, from which Byron
held apart, the countess reluctantly consented to
return to Ravenna with her husband, and to hold
no further communication with her lover. She
therefore quitted Venice, where Byron remained,
melancholy, ailing, and unable to make up his
mind to visit England. The promise forced from
the countess, that she would not write to the poet,
was soon broken, and ardent letters passed between
them.

62 THE MOST GORGEOUS

In one of these he declares that his state is most
dreadful, he not knowing which way to decide, —
fearing on the one hand to compromise her by
returning to Ravenna, and on the other dreading
to lose all happiness by seeing her no more. " I
pray you, I implore you," he adds, " to be comforted,
and to believe that I cannot cease to love you but
with my life. It is not enough that I must leave
you, it is not enough that I must fly from Italy
with a heart deeply wounded, after having passed
all my days in solitude since your departure, sick
both in body and mind, but I must also have to
endure your reproaches without answering and
without deserving them. Farewell ; in that one
word is comprised the death of my happiness."

He now decided on returning to England, and
the day of his departure was fixed. When the
morning came on which he was to leave Venice,
his packed boxes were taken to the gondola at his
palace gate, he himself was dressed for the journey,
and he merely waited for his firearms to be made
ready. Suddenly, acting on a presentiment, he
declared that, if all were not in order before the
clock struck, he would not start that day. The last
touches which were to mark his departure had not
been given when the clock struck one ; his gondola
was unloaded, and he never more saw the country
for which he had been about to set out.

For next day brought him a letter from Count
Gamba, father of the countess, stating that she

LADY BLESSINGTON 63

was alarmingly ill, and, fearful of the consequences
of opposition, her family, including her husband,
entreated Byron to hasten to her ; the letter fur-
thermore promised there should be no more scenes
between husband and wife such as had lately dis-
turbed his lordship's domestic peace in Venice.
Immediately he answered, telling the countess he
soon would be beside her, and that whether he
ever left her again would depend upon herself.

Arriving at Ravenna, he took up his residence
at a hotel, but only for a brief time, until the
quarters which he was permitted by the count to
rent at the Palazzo Guiccioli were made ready.
Again the countess, enlivened by his presence,
rapidly recovered, and she was seen in his com-
pany everywhere. " Nobody seemed surprised ;
all the women, on the contrary, were, as it were,
delighted with the excellent example." -The
count, however, after some six months had
elapsed, professed to become uneasy : rumours
of separation were in the air ; cardinals and priests
were implicated ; public opinion was dead against
him for causing such a disturbance ; all her rela-
tions were furious at his want of civility, and her
father challenged him, — "a superfluous valour, for
he don't fight, though suspected of two assassina-
tions." Finally Byron was warned not to take long
rides in the pine forest without being on his guard.

Eventually, on a petition of the much-suffering
countess and her family, a decree of separation

64 THE MOST GORGEOUS

carne from Rome on condition that the wife should
henceforth live beneath her father's roof. This
her husband had opposed because of the allowance
of two hundred a year — a miserable sum for a
man of his wealth — which the same decree di-
rected should be made her ; and at the last
moment he would have forgiven all, if she had
consented never again to see Byron. This she
declined to promise, and on the 1 6th of July, 1820,
she betook herself to her father's home, situated
some fifteen miles from Ravenna, where occasion-
ally she was visited by the poet.

Now in this year Count Gamba and his son
engaged themselves in a movement for the free-
dom of Italy, and induced their friend Byron to
join them in such enterprise. But in a little while
suspicion falling on them, the government ordered
the count to quit Ravenna within twenty-four hours,
whilst the son was arrested at night and conveyed
to the frontier. The countess was now in despair,
her nervous fears suggesting that if she left Ra-
venna she would see her lover no more ; and her
fright was heightened when news was brought her
secretly that her husband was appealing to Rome
either to have her sent back to him, or to have
her placed in a convent.

The exile of the Gambas was chiefly decreed in
the hope that Byron would share their banishment ;
for knowing the freedom of his opinions, dreading
his influence, jealous of his popularity, and exag-

LADY BLESSINGTON 65

gerating the extent of his means, which they feared
might be used to spread liberalism, the govern-
ment had long desired his absence from Ravenna,
but had not dared to force the departure of an
English subject. He was, however, unwilling to
be driven from a city he liked so well ; and whilst
the countess, her father, and her brother, took
refuge in Florence, he remained in Ravenna, striv-
ing to get the decree of banishment against his
friends rescinded.

Seeing the uselessness of his efforts, he resolved
to join them. On catching news of his departure,
the poor of Ravenna, to whom he devoted a fourth
part of his annual income, gathering together,
presented a petition to the cardinal asking him to
request Byron to remain. The place of the future
residence of the Gamba family was for some time
undecided ; the countess and her brother select-
ing Switzerland, where they would be beyond the
control of the Roman government, Byron sug-
gesting Tuscany, for he never could bear the
Swiss, "and still less their English visitors." Ac-
cordingly, in August, 1821, Count Gamba took a
spacious palace, known as the Casa Lanfranchi, in
Pisa. Here Byron joined them, and at first was
impressed by his new home, a noble marble pile
"which seemed built for eternity." Its hall was
enormous, its grand staircase had been designed
by Michael Angelo, its windows looked down upon
the slow sweeping Arno. But soon Byron's de-

66 THE MOST GORGEOUS

light was disturbed ; and he writes to Murray that
it had dungeons below, cells in the walls, and was
full of ghosts, by whom the last occupants had
been sorely bothered. Then he discovered a place
where people had evidently been walled up ; all the
ears in the palace had been regaled by all kinds of
supernatural noises, and his valet begged leave to
change his room, and then refused to occupy his
new apartment because there were more ghosts
there than in the other.

Soon more material troubles beset him. Whilst
riding out with a party of English and Scotch,
they had a brawl with a soldier who had insulted
one of the party, some of whom were arrested.
The offending soldier was shortly afterward
stabbed, whilst riding through the streets, by
one of his own countrymen, presumably a par-
tisan of Byron's, and though the wounded man
recovered, his friends threatened vengeance with
the dagger. The affray caused a sensation, all
kinds of investigations were made; finally the
Tuscan government thought itself called upon
to interfere, and Count Gamba and his son re-
ceived notice to quit Tuscany within four days.

As the countess was obliged to live beneath
her father's roof, Byron's removal was a foregone
conclusion.

Again the scene of their future home was dis-
cussed, and South America was spoken of as a
fitting place, but eventually Genoa was decided

LADY BLESSINGTON 67

upon, and here they settled in September, 1822,
in the Casa Saluzzi, in a suburb of the city named
Albaro ; Byron occupying one wing of the palace
and the Gamba family the other.

This was the man whom Lady Blessington ear-
nestly desired to meet ; her desire not being les-
sened by the fear that he who in general avoided
his country people might decline to become ac-
quainted with her. Scarcely had she reached her
hotel at Genoa, the Alberga della Villa, than, tak-
ing out her diary, she wrote :

"And am I indeed in the same town with
Byron? To-morrow I may perhaps behold him.
I never before felt the same impatient longing to
see any one known to me only by his works. I
hope he may not be fat, as Moore described him,
for a fat poet is an anomaly in my opinion. Well,
well, to-morrow I may know what he is like, and
now to bed, to sleep away the fatigues of my
journey."

CHAPTER IV.

Lord Blessington Visits Byron — The Poet and the Countess — -
First Impressions — Personal Appearance — His English
Visitors — Reference to His Child — A Pleasant Talk —
Flippant Manner — Count D'Orsay's Diary — Dining with
the Blessingtons — His Desire to Grow Thin — Death of
Lord Blessington's Heir — Lord Byron's Sympathy — His
Expedition to Greece — Melancholy Presentiments — His Su-
perstitions — Impromptu Lines — Farewell.

I

fITTLE time was lost in surmise as to
whether Byron would be gracious to the
Blessingtons, or would refuse to receive
them, as he had already done to many acquaint-
ances who had called on him. For next day, a
bright and happy April day with the gladdening of
spring in the sunny air, Lady Blessington, her
husband, her sister, and Count D' Or say, drove to
the village of Albaro, passing through Genoa, with
its lively crowds of sailors, soldiers, and civilians,
living pictures in themselves ; its narrow streets
and tall, red-hued houses, its magnificent palaces,
spacious and sombre, its hanging gardens covering
and crowning its rocky heights ; and the sight of
its sea, a flashing of blue caught in the winding
of the ways.

68

LADY BLESSINGTON 69

The earl, it will be remembered, had known
Byron, with whom he was not only desirous of
renewing his acquaintance, but to whom he was
anxious to introduce his wife. The poet was at
this time in his thirty-sixth year. On arriving
at the gate of the courtyard, Lord Blessington
and Count D'Orsay sent in their names and were
immediately admitted, when they received a cor-
dial reception from Byron, who expressed himself
delighted to see a former friend and hoped he
might have the pleasure of being presented to
Lady Blessington. On this the latter said that
she and her sister were in the carriage at the
gate.

"Byron then," as the countess writes, "immedi-
ately hurried out into the court, and I, who heard
the sound of steps, looked through the gate and
beheld him approaching quickly, without his hat,
and considerably in advance of the other two
gentlemen.

" ' You must have thought me quite as ill-bred
and savage as fame reports/ said Byron, bowing
very low, 'in having permitted your ladyship to
remain a quarter of an hour at my gate ; but my
old friend, Lord Blessington, is to blame, for I only
heard a minute ago that I was so highly honoured.
I shall think you do not pardon this apparent rude-
ness unless you enter my abode, which I entreat
you will do,' and he offered his hand to assist me
to descend from the carriage.

70 THE MOST GORGEOUS

" In the vestibule stood his chasseur in full uni-
form, with two er three other domestics, and the
expression of surprise visible in their countenances
evinced that they were not habituated to see their
lord display so much cordiality to visitors."

At first Lady Blessington felt disappointed by
the appearance of the poet, because he was unlike
the ideal she had imagined of the author of " Man-
fred" and "Childe Harold." She had expected
to find him a dignified, cold, reserved, and haughty
individual, resembling the mysterious personages
he loved to paint in his works, and with whom he
has been so often identified by the world ; but
nothing, she considered, could be more different,
"for were I to point out the prominent defect
of Lord Byron, I should say it was flippancy and
a total want of that natural self-possession and
dignity which ought to characterise a man of birth
and education." On reflection, however, she ad-
mitted that most people would be more than satis-
fied with his appearance and captivated by his
manner, for the first was prepossessing, and the
second cordial.

"His head," she writes, "is peculiarly well
shaped ; the forehead high, open, and highly in-
dicative of intellectual power ; his eyes are gray
and expressive, — one is visibly larger than the
other; his nose looks handsome in profile, but
in front is somewhat clumsy ; the eyebrows are
well defined and flexible; the mouth is faultless,

LADY BLESSINGTON 71

the upper lip being of Grecian shortness, and both
as finely chiselled, to use an artist's phrase, as
those of an antique statue. There is a scornful
expression in the latter feature that does not
deteriorate from its beauty. His chin is large
but well-shaped, and not at all fleshy, and finishes
well his face, which is of an oval form. His hair
has already much of silver among its dark brown
curls ; its texture is very silky, and although it
retreats from his temples, leaving his forehead
very bare, its growth at the sides and back of
his head is abundant.

" I have seldom seen finer teeth than Lord
Byron's, and never a smoother or more fair skin,
for though very pale, his is not the pallor of ill-
health. He is so exceedingly thin that his figure
has an almost boyish air ; and yet there is some-
thing so striking in his whole appearance that he
could not be mistaken for an ordinary person. I
do not think that I should have observed his lame-
ness, had my attention not been called to it by his
own visible consciousness of this infirmity, — a
consciousness that gives a gaucherie to his move-
ments."

The residence of the poet was a fine old palace
commanding a wide view over olive woods and
vineyards that stretched to the bases of the purple
Apennines. The saloon into which he led his vis-
itors was high-ceilinged, spacious, and barely fur-
nished, its windows on one side looking into the

72 THE MOST GORGEOUS

courtyard, and on the other into a stately garden,
with orange-trees and cedars, terraces and foun-
tains. Into this somewhat sombre room Lady
Blessington, her expressive face bright with smiles
of triumph and gratification, her exquisite toilet
radiant with colour, came as a glow of sunshine.
Her host showed every sign of enjoying the com-
pany of his visitors.

At first the conversation turned on mutual
friends, and then on the number of English peo-
ple who pestered him with visits, though a great
number were unknown to, and many of them but
slightly acquainted with him. He stated that he
steadily refused to receive any but those he really
wished to see ; as for the others, he added, " they
avenge themselves by attacking me in every sort
of way, and there is no story too improbable
for the craving appetites of our slander-loving
countrymen."

On the walls hung a small portrait of his
daughter, and another of himself, and seeing Lady
Blessington looking attentively at the former, he
took it from its place and handed it to her. She
remarked that the child bore him a strong resent
blance, which seemed to gratify him.

" I am told she is clever," he said, "but I hope
not ; and, above all, I hope she is not poetical.
The price paid for such advantages, if advantages
they be, is such as to make me pray that my child
may escape them."

LADY BLESSINGTON 73

' 1

As he talked to her and her party, Lady Bless-

ington, who was a shrewd observer, had opportuni-
ties of noticing various characteristics of the poet.
He had the smallest hands she had ever seen with
a man, finely shaped, delicately white, the nails
rose-coloured and highly polished, so that they
resembled delicate pink shells ; his voice was clear,
melodious, but somewhat effeminate, and his enun-
ciation so distinct, that though his tone was low
pitched, not a word was lost, whilst his laughter
was music itself. Finally she thought he owed
less to his clothes than any man of her acquaint-
ance, they being not only old-fashioned, but ill- /
fitting.

When she proposed to end her visit, he urged
her to stay, and time passed pleasantly. When
eventually she rose, he warmly expressed the grati-
fication the visit had given him, and Lady Bless-
ington states that she did not doubt his sincerity :
not that she claimed any merit to account for his
satisfaction, but that she saw he liked hearing
news of his old haunts and associates, " and likes
also to pass them en revue, pronouncing en passant
opinions in which wit and sly sarcasm are more
obvious than good nature. Yet," she adds, "he
does not give me the impression that he is ill-
natured or malicious, even whilst uttering remarks
that imply the presence of these qualities. It
appears to me that they proceed from a reckless
levity of disposition, that renders him incapable of

74 THE MOST GORGEOUS

checking the spirituels but sarcastic sallies which
the possession of a very uncommon degree of
shrewdness, and a still more rare wit, occasion ;
and seeing how he amuses his hearers, he cannot
resist the temptation, although at the expense of
many whom he proposes to like."

Neither during this visit nor whilst she remained
in Genoa did Lady Blessington see the Countess
Guiccioli ; of whom however Byron in his subse-
quent conversations frequently spoke. The young
Italian, who was wholly devoted to the poet, led a
life of retirement, and was seldom seen outside the
grounds of the Casa Saluzzi.

On the day succeeding the visit of Lady Bless-
ington and her party to the Casa Saluzzi, Lord
Byron presented himself at their hotel, first send-
ing up two cards in an envelope as a preliminary
to his entrance. They had just finished cttjetiner,
but the earliness of his visit did not hinder his
welcome. On his part, the poet was brighter and
more buoyant than before.

Lady Blessington told him that, as early as
nine that morning, she had been to the flower
market, and expressed surprise that the poorest
class bought flowers as if they were the neces-
saries of life, when Lord Byron fell to praising
the people and the city, enumerating, amongst its
other advantages, that it contained so few English
either as residents or birds of passage. And as
during their previous meeting, so once more did

LADY BLESSINGTON 75

their conversation turn on mutual friends, when
Tom Moore, amongst others, was discussed.
Byron spoke more warmly of the Irish bard's
attractions as a companion, than of his merits as
a poet. " Lalla Rookh," though beautiful, was
disappointing to Byron, who considered Moore
would go down to posterity because of his melo-
dies, which were perfect, and he declared he had
never been so affected as on hearing Moore sing
one of them, particularly "When first I met
thee," which he said made him cry ; adding, with
an arch glance, " But it was after I had drunk a
certain portion of very potent white brandy."

As he laid particular stress on the word
"affected," Lady Blessington smiled, when he
asked her the cause, on which she told him the
story of a lady, who, on offering her condolence
to a poor Irishwoman on the death of her child,
stated that she had never been so affected in her
life ; on hearing which the poor woman, who knew
the insincerity of the remark, looked up and said,
" Sure thin, ma'am, that's saying a great deal, for
you were always affected."

All present laughed at this, and then Lady
Holland was brought upon the board. Lady
Blessington felt surprised by his flippancy in
talking of those for whom he expressed a regard ;
understanding which, he remarked laughingly that
he feared he should lose her good opinion by his
frankness, but that when the fit was on him, he

76 THE MOST GORGEOUS

could not help saying what he thought, though
he often repented it when too late.

Throughout his conversation he continually
censured his own country. His friends told him
Count D'Orsay had, during his visit to London,
kept a journal, in which he dealt freely with the
follies of society. This interested Byron much,
and led him to ask permission to read the manu-
script, which D'Orsay freely gave him. Through-
out this visit, which lasted for two hours, he said
very little of his own works, and Lady Blessing-
ton thought he had far less pretension than any
literary man of her acquaintance, and not the
slightest shade of pedantry.

Before leaving, he promised to dine with them
on the following Thursday; theirs being, as he
assured them, the first invitation to dinner he had
accepted for two years.

On returning to his palazzo, Byron sat down
and wrote to Moore : " I have just seen some
friends of yours who paid me a visit yesterday,
which, in honour of them and of you, I returned
to-day, as I reserve my bearskin and teeth, and
paws and claws for our enemies. . . . Your allies,
whom I found very agreeable personages, are
Milor Blessington and fyouse, travelling with a
very handsome companion in the shape of a
" French count " (to use Farquhar's phrase in
the " Beau's Stratagem "), who has all the air
of a Cupidon dfchaint, and is one of the few

LADY BLESSINGTON 77

specimens I have seen of our ideal of a French-
man before the Revolution, — an old friend with
a new face, upon whose like I never thought that
we should look again. Miladi seems highly liter-
ary, to which and your honour's acquaintance
with the family I attribute the pleasure of having
seen them. She is also very pretty, even in a
morning, a species of beauty on which the sun
of Italy does not shine so frequently as the
chandelier."

Having read the journal of Count D'Orsay, in
whom he was already interested, he returned it
to Lord Blessington, remarking that it was "a
very extraordinary production, and of a most
melancholy truth in all that regards high life in
England."

" I know," he continues, " or know personally
most of the personages and societies which he
describes, and after reading his remarks, have
the sensation fresh upon me as if I had seen
them yesterday. I would, however, plead in be-
half of some few exceptions, which I will mention
by and by. The most singular thing is, how he
should have penetrated, not the facts, but the
mystery of English ennui, at two and twenty. I
was about the same age when I made the same
discovery in almost precisely the same circles, —
for there is scarcely a person whom I did not see
nightly or daily, and was acquainted more or less
intimately with most of them, — but I never could

7S THE MOST GORGEOUS

have discovered it so well. II faut fore Fran fats
to effect this.

" But he ought also to have been in the country
during the hunting season, with ' a select party of
distinguished guests,' as the papers term it. He
ought to have seen the gentlemen after dinner (on
the hunting days), and the soirle ensuing there-
upon — and the women looking as if they had
hunted, or rather been hunted ; and I could have
wished that he had been at a dinner in town, which
I recollect at Lord Cowper's, small, but select, and
composed of the most amusing people.

" Altogether your friend's journal is a very
formidable production. Alas, our dearly beloved
countrymen have only discovered that they are
tired, and not that they are tiresome ; and I sus-
pect that the communication of the latter un-
pleasant verity will not be better received than
truths usually are. I have read the whole with
great attention and instruction — I am too good
a patriot to say pleasure ; at least I won't say so,
whatever I may think."

Now, the fact that Byron was to dine with the
Blessingtons on a certain evening, having got
noised abroad, probably through the servants, the
English residents in the Albergo della Villa, and
other hotels, assembled in the courtyard, on the
stairs, and in the corridors, to see him arrive
and greet him with a stolid British stare. Fortu-
nately for his hosts, he was not in a humour to

LADY BLESSINGTON 79

resent this intrusion, but appeared in good spirits
as he entered their salon ; for when in good hu-
mour, he set down the stares and comments of his
country-people, whenever they met him, to their
admiration, but when worried or depressed, he
resented them as impertinent curiosity, caused by
the scandalous histories he believed were circulated
regarding him. No sooner was he in the room
than he began to talk of himself, though not of
his poems, his animated countenance changing its
expression with the subjects that excited his feel-
ings.

Lady Blessington thought it strange that he
should speak to recent acquaintances with such
perfect abandon, on subjects which even friends
would consider too delicate for discussion. His
family affairs were debated and details given. He
declared he was in ignorance of why his wife had
parted from him, but suspected it was through
the ill-natured interference of others, and that he
had left no means untried to effect a reconciliation.
He added, with some bitterness, that a day would
come when he would be avenged, for, " I feel," he
said, "that I shall not live long, and when the
grave has closed over me, what must she feel."

Afterward, he went on to praise the mental
and personal qualities of his wife, when Lady
Blessington ventured to say that the appreciation
he expressed somewhat contradicted the sarcasms
supposed to refer to Lady Byron in his works. At

8o THE MOST GORGEOUS

this the poet shook his head, and his face lighted
with a smile as he explained that what he had
written was meant to spite and vex her at a time
when he was wounded and irritated at her refusing
to receive or answer his letters. He was sorry
for what he had penned regarding her, but, "not-
withstanding this regret and all his good resolutions
to avoid similar sins, he might, on renewed provo-
cation, recur to the same vengeance, though he
allowed it was petty and unworthy of him."

In all his conversations, this singular man, whose
character was a mass of contradictions, delighted in
confessing his faults ; how he could bear to have
them recognised by another, remained to be proved.
Lady Blessington, shrewdly enough, remarks that
those who show the greatest frankness in admit-
ting their errors, are precisely the people who
resent their detection by others. She did not
think Byron insincere in commenting on his de-
fects, for his perception was too keen to leave him
unaware of them, and his desire of proving his
perception was too great not to give proof of this
power by self analysis. It appeared to her as if he
were more ready to own than to correct his faults,
and that he considered his candour in acknowledg-
ing them an amende honourable.

"There is an indescribable charm, to me at
least," she writes, " in hearing people, to whom
genius of the highest order is ascribed, indulge in
egotistical conversation ; more especially when they

LADY BLESSINGTON 81

are free from affectation, and all are more or less
so when talking of self, a subject on which they
speak con amore. It is like reading their diaries,
by which we learn more of the individuals than by
any other means."

At dinner that evening, the poet was in high
spirits, and enjoyed himself heartily. Turning to
his hostess, he hoped she was not shocked by see-
ing him eating so much, "but the truth is," he
added, " that for several months I have been fol-
lowing a most abstemious regime, living almost
entirely on vegetables ; and now that I see a good
dinner, I cannot resist temptation, though to-
morrow I shall suffer for my gourmandise, as I
always do when I indulge in luxuries." This, he
added, was & jour de fete, when he would eat, drink,
and make merry.

The scheme of living which he followed consisted
not only in dieting himself on vegetables, drinking
vinegar, taking medicine in excess, but, at times, in
enduring pangs of hunger, by means of which he
hoped to master a natural tendency to stoutness,
and by keeping thin to preserve that fine outline
of face and symmetry of form, which gave interest
to his appearance and youthfulness to his figure.

He explained to his friends that no choice was
left him but to sacrifice his body to his mind ; that
if he lived as others, he would not only be ill, but
would lose his intellectual faculties. To eat ani-
mal food, he argued, was to engender animal

8a THE MOST GORGEOUS

appetites ; as proof of which, he instanced the
manner in which boxers are fed ; whilst to live
on fish and vegetables was to support without
pampering existence.

He took evident pride in arriving at a result
which cost him so much pain, and with a boyish
air would ask, " Don't you think I get thinner ? "
or again, " Did you ever see any one so thin as I
am who was not ill ? " One day, Lady Blessing-
ton, assuming a grave face and a serious air,
assured him she believed that his living so contin-
ually on fish resulted in his fondness for and his
skill in swimming ; a theory which he was ready
to admit, and would have discoursed on, if, unable
to command herself, she had not burst out laugh-
ing, a proceeding that at first puzzled him, but in
which he joined a second later, saying :

" Well, miladi, after this hour never accuse me
any more of mystifying ; you did take me in until
you laughed."

This desired condition of thinness was really
obtained at the expense of his health. He obsti-
nately resisted the advice of medical men and
friends, who assured him of his folly in continuing
austerities that were certainly undermining his con-
stitution, which would have no power of recovery
if once attacked by illness ; a prediction not long
afterward fulfilled.

It was on the second day after Byron had dined
with the Blessingtons, that news was brought them

LADY BLESSINGTON 83

of an event destined to influence the lives of two
at least of the party, though unforeseen by them.
Lady Blessington and her husband were in the
salon of their hotel, when they saw a courier
covered with dust ride into the courtyard. A
presentiment of evil seized her, as she relates, a
presentiment which was verified a moment later,
when a letter was handed the earl stating that his
only legitimate son and heir, Viscount Mount] oy,
was dead. The boy, then about ten years old, had
been ailing for some time ; but, as the countess
writes, "although long prepared for this melan-
choly event, it has fallen on us as heavily as if we
counted on his days being lengthened. Poor dear
Mount] oy, he expired on the 26th of March, and
Carlo Forte, the courier, reached this from Lon-
don in eight days. Well may it be said that bad
news travels quickly."

This intelligence fell like a shadow on the party
for a little while, during which Byron showed
the greatest kindness and feeling toward Lord
Blessington. " There is a gentleness and almost
womanly softness in his manner toward him that
is peculiarly pleasing to witness," Lady Blessing-
ton writes. Her favourite horse, Mameluke, hav-
ing arrived, the whole party rode to Nervi a few
days later, the poet acting as their cicerone. He
was neither a good nor a bold rider, though he
had much pretensions to horsemanship, and when
mounted must have presented an extraordinary

84 THE MOST GORGEOUS

figure, for his horse was covered with trappings,
whilst the saddle was a la hussarde, its holsters
bristling with pistols. The rider wore nankeen
jacket and trousers, a trifle shrunk from washing,
the jacket embroidered, the waist short, the back
narrow, three rows of buttons in front ; a black
satin stock clasping his neck ; on his head a dark
blue velvet cap with a shade, a rich gold tassel
hanging from the crown ; nankeen gaiters, and a
pair of blue spectacles.

Knowing Genoa and its surroundings, he pointed
out sites of surpassing beauty, but a certain indif-
ference he exhibited toward their charm surprised
Lady Blessington, on expressing which he said,
laughingly, "I suppose you expected me to ex-
plode into some enthusiastic exclamations on the
sea, the scenery, etc., such as poets indulge in, or
rather are supposed to indulge in ; but the truth
is, I hate cant of every kind, and the cant of the
love of nature as much as any other." " So/' she
comments, " to avoid the appearance of one affec-
tation, he assumes another, that of not admiring."

His views regarding art brought her greater
surprise. He liked music without knowing any-
thing of it as a science, of which he was glad, as
he feared a perfect knowledge would rob music
of half its charms. "At present I only know,"
he said, " that a plaintive air softens, and a lively
one cheers me. Martial music renders me brave,
and voluptuous music disposes me to be luxurious,

LADY BLESSINGTON 85

even effeminate. Now were I skilled in the science,
I should become fastidious ; and instead of yield-
ing to the fascination of sweet sounds, I should
be analysing, or criticising, or connoisseurshipis-
ing (to use a word of my own making) instead of
simply enjoying them, as at present. In the same
way I never would study botany. I don't want to
know why certain flowers please me ; enough for
me that they do, and I leave to those who have no
better occupation, the analyses of the sources of
their pleasure, which I can enjoy without the use-
less trouble."

His love of flowers amounted to a passion, and
this and his charity were two beautiful traits in
his character ; for he never refused to give when
asked, and always gave with a gentleness and
kindness that enhanced the giving, so that the
poor knew and loved him and came to him in their
needs and sorrows. Perfumes also had a strong
effect upon him, and as he said, often made him
quite sentimental.

Byron seemed as delighted with the companion-
ship of the Blessingtons as they were with his,
and he was continually dining or riding with
them, writing to or calling on them, or sitting for
his portrait to D'Orsay in their salon, and this
close association enabled the countess to notice
many traits in him before unsuspected. Now he
comes to drink tea with her after dinner, and being
animated, tells stories of his London life, gossips

86 THE MOST GORGEOUS

about acquaintances and mimics the people he de-
scribes, ridiculing their vanities and telling their
secrets. He delighted in hearing what was pass-
ing in the world of fashion, and his correspondents
in London kept him au courant of its scandals.
One day Lady Blessington suggested that atten-
tion to such trifles was unworthy of a mind like
his, when he answered that the trunk of an ele-
phant, which could lift a great weight, did not dis-
dain a small one, and he confessed to loving a little
scandal, as he believed all English people did.

Another day he calls upon her, fuming with
indignation because of an attack on him, first
made in an American paper and afterward copied
into Galignani, from the effects of which his tem-
per did not recover for several days ; for never
was man so sensitive to the censures and opinions
of those whom he neither knew nor respected,
whilst at the same time he showed a want of per-
ception and disregard to the feelings of others, a
not uncommon combination, which is the result of
egotism.

Again he rides out with her and speaks of his
expedition to Greece, and jests at the intention of
his turning soldier ; but his laughter is not gen-
uine enough to cover the seriousness with which
he viewed the project. On this his companion
held out the hope that he would return full of
glory in having fought in the cause of freedom, so
that his country would feel proud of him ; but at

LADY BLESSINGTON 87

that prospect he mournfully shook his head, saying
he had more than once dreamt that he would die
in Greece, and continually had a presentiment that
such would be the case.

Asked why he did not then give up all idea of
the expedition, he replied that he would yield him-
self to the dictates of fate ; he had always believed
his life would not be long ; he did not wish to live
to old age ; and he desired to rest his bones in a
country hallowed by the recollections of youth and
dreams of happiness never realised.

" A grassy bed in Greece, and a gray stone to
mark the spot," he said, " would please me more
than a marble tomb in Westminster Abbey, an
honour which, if I 'were to die in England, I
suppose could not be refused to me ; for though
my compatriots were unwilling to let me live in
peace in the land of my fathers, they would not,
kind souls, object to my ashes resting in peace
among those of the poets of my country."

Poor Byron, though he made immense allow-
ances for the hypocrisy, narrowness, and unchar-
itableness of his countrymen, failed to foresee the
fierceness of a chastity that denied to his bust a
niche in the abbey.

Not only did he believe in fate, but he placed
faith in supernatural appearances, in lucky and
unlucky days, would never undertake any act of
importance on Fridays, and had the greatest hor-
ror of letting bread fall, spilling salt, or breaking

88 THE MOST GORGEOUS

mirrors. Whenever he spoke of ghosts, as he was
fond of doing, " he assumes," as Lady Blessington
writes, "a grave and mysterious air, and he has
told me some extraordinary stories relative to Mr.
Shelley, who, he assures me, had an implicit belief
in ghosts." The fact that she did not share his
belief in the supernatural seemed to offend him,
and he said that she must therefore believe herself
wiser than he, "and he left me," she tells us,
" evidently displeased at my want of superstition."

One delicious evening in May when the blue of
the sea and the balm of its breath tempted the
Blessingtons to set out on a boating excursion,
Byron felt inclined to accept their invitation to
accompany them, " but when we were about to
embark," narrates Lady Blessington, "a super-
stitious presentiment induced him to give up the
water party, which set us all laughing at him,
which he bore very well, although he half smiled,
and said, * No, no, good folk, you shall not laugh
me out of my superstition, even though you may
think me a fool for it' "

Two days later he wrote her a note, in which
occurs the sentence, " I did well to avoid the
water party — why is a mystery which is not less
to be wondered at than all my other mysteries."

After a stay of about six weeks in Genoa, the
Blessingtons, having seen all the city and its en-
virons had to show, began to make preparations
to resume their journey, which they now decided

LADY BLESSINGTON 89

was to end in Naples. The prospect of losing
such pleasant neighbours and friends was displeas-
ing to Byron, who warmly urged them to remain
until he had started for Greece. The force and
frequency with which he returned to the subject
was flattering, and the pouting sulkiness, like a
child crossed in a whim, with which he resented
their refusal, was amusing. His displeasure in-
creasing, he declared he would never dine with
them again at their hotel, now he saw how little
disposed they were to gratify him ; when his host-
ess, with some dignity, declared that, had she
known his dining with them was considered a
sacrifice by him, she never would have invited
him ; on which reproof he seemed a little ashamed
of his petulance.

Then he took them to see an extremely pic-
turesque but slightly dilapidated villa, named II
Paradiso, situated near his own palace, which he
suggested they should rent. Lady Blessington
admired it greatly, when the poet, taking a pencil,
wrote the following lines :

" Beneath Blessington's eyes

The reclaimed paradise
Should be free as the former from evil ;

But if the new Eve

For an apple should grieve,
What mortal would not play the devil ?"

Handing her this, he said, " In future times
people will come to see II Paradiso, where Byron

90 THE MOST GORGEOUS

wrote an impromptu on his countrywoman ; thus
our names will be associated when we have long
ceased to exist." To this Lady Blessington added
in her diary, "And heaven only knows to how
many commentaries so simple an incident may
hereafter give rise."

Eventually the Blessingtons decided not to take
the villa, and the day of their departure from
Genoa was fixed. Byron, who foresaw how much
he should miss their pleasant company, became
graver in his manner, and continually dwelt on his
journey to Greece. If he outlived the campaign,
he declared he would write two poems on the
subject, one an epic, and the other a burlesque, in
which none would be spared, himself least of all ;
for if he took liberties with them, he took greater
freedoms with himself, and he thought they ought
to bear with him out of consideration for his
impartiality.

This he said when making one of those efforts
at gaiety that only showed more clearly the under-
lying sadness with which he viewed his projected
expedition. " I have made as many sacrifices to
liberty," he remarked one day, "as most people of
my age, and the one I am about to undertake is
not the least, though probably it will be the last :
for with my broken health, and the chances of
war, Greece will most likely terminate my mortal
career. I like Italy, its climate, its customs, and,
above all, its freedom from cant of every kind,

LADY BLESSINGTON 91

which is iheflrimttm mobile of England, therefore
it is no slight sacrifice of comfort to give up the
tranquil life I lead here, and break through the
ties I have formed, to engage in a cause for
the successful result of which I have no very
sanguine hopes."

And then he added that, though he feared his
hearer might think him more superstitious than
ever, he would repeat that he had a presentiment
he should die in Greece. " I hope it may be in
action," he continued, "for that would be a good
finish to a very triste existence, and I have a
horror of death-bed scenes ; but as I have not been
famous for my luck in life, most probably I shall not
have more in the manner of my death, and I may
draw my last sigh, not on the field of glory, but on
the bed of disease. I very nearly died when I was
in Greece in my youth ; perhaps, as things have
turned out, it would have been well if I had. I
should have lost nothing and the world very little,
and I should have escaped many cares, for God
knows I have had enough of one kind or another ;
but I am getting gloomy, and looking either back
or forward is not calculated to enliven me. One
of the reasons why I quiz my friends in conver-
sation is, that it keeps me from thinking of
myself."

As the days passed, he frequently expressed a
wish to return to England, if only for a few weeks,
before departing for Greece ; but though he was

92 THE MOST GORGEOUS

lord of himself in all ways, he never, from want
of firmness of determination, put this desire into
effect. His principal reason for wishing to visit
his native land was to hold his little daughter for
once in his arms, and, if possible, to see and become
reconciled to his wife, who had refused all explana-
tion of the cause of her separation from him, all
attempt at reconciliation, who had returned his
letters unopened, and who had remained silent
whilst his enemies attributed various and contra-
dictory phases of vileness to him. That which in-
fluenced him most in preventing him from visiting
England, was the fear that his wife would continue
her heartless conduct toward him, that his child
would be prevented from seeing him, and that any
step his affection might prompt him to take in
asserting his right to see her would be misrepre-
sented as an act of barbarous tyranny and perse-
cution toward mother and child, when he would
be driven from England more vilified and with
greater ignominy than on his separation.

" Such is my idea of the justice of public opin-
ion in England/' he said, "and with such woful
experiences as I have had, can you wonder that I
dare not encounter the annoyances I have de-
tailed ? But if I live and return from Greece with
something better and higher than the reputation or
glory of a poet, opinions may change, as the suc-
cessful are always judged favourably of in our
country ; my laurels may cover my faults better

LADY BLESSINGTON 93

than the bays have done, and give a totally differ-
ent reading to my thoughts, words, and actions."

Before his friends left he wished to buy Lady
Blessington's favourite horse Mameluke, and to
sell his yacht to Lord Blessington. On first see-
ing Mameluke, Byron had expressed great admira-
tion for him. Thinking him a docile, easily man-
aged beast, he had asked innumerable questions
about him, and subsequently requested as a favour
that his owner would sell him, the poet stating he
would take Mameluke to Greece, for with so steady
a charger he would feel confidence in action, and
that he would never part with him.

Lady Blessington, who was fond of all animals,
was much attached to this horse, and was reluc-
tant to sell him ; she knew, moreover, she would
have great difficulty in replacing him ; yet her
good nature prompting her, she consented to
Byron's frequent entreaties, and agreed to part
with Mameluke.

The horse had cost a hundred guineas, but
when the hour of payment came, Byron wrote
to say that he could not afford to give more than
eighty pounds, " as I have to undergo considerable
expense at the present time." No wonder Lady
Blessington writes, " How strange to beg and en-
treat to have the horse resigned to him, and then
name a price less than he cost."

In openly dwelling on his own faults, as was his
habit, Byron had said that, in addition to others,

94 THE MOST GORGEOUS

avarice was now established ; and again, when
stating that his friend Hobhouse had pointed out
many imperfections of character to him, the poet
continued, " I could have told him of some more
which he had not discovered, for even then ava-
rice had made itself strongly felt in my nature."
Whilst at Genoa the Blessingtons had frequent
opportunities of noting his love for money ; for
in making the rounds of the city with them, he
would occasionally express his delight at some
specimen of art or article of furniture, until he
had inquired the price, when he shrank back at
thought of the expense, and congratulated him-
self on requiring no such luxuries.

Before leaving, they were to have a further
proof of this peculiarity. As he was going to
Greece he had no need for his yacht, the Bolivar,
which, as already stated, he wished Lord Blessing-
ton to buy. The boat was luxuriously furnished,
and its couches of Genoese velvet and its marble
baths particularly pleased Lady Blessington, who
was, however, more attracted by the fact that he
had written several of his poems on board. It
was therefore agreed that they should buy the
yacht, the price of which was left for Mr. Barry,
Byron's friend and banker, to determine ; but when
the latter fixed a sum, Byron demanded a higher
figure, which the extravagant Irish peer gave with-
out condescending to bargain. " The poet is cer-
tainly fond of money," comments Lady Blessington.

LADY BLESSINGTON 95

On the 2 /th of May, Byron dined with his hos-
pitable friends, "our last dinner together for
heaven knows how long, perhaps for ever," writes
the hostess. None of those who sat round the
board was gay ; Byron least of all. Looking paler
and thinner than ever, he fell into silence contin-
ually, from which he roused himself to assume an
appearance of gaiety. Once more he spoke of
his expedition to Greece, and wished he had not
pledged himself to go ; adding that, having prom-
ised, he must now fulfil his engagement. Then
he eagerly grasped at an idea held out to him of
paying a visit, before he left, to his friends, when
they reached Naples, and sailing in the bay on
board the Bolivar ; and with this pleasant hope
he left them for that night.

Four evenings later, came a time of trial for all
of them, when the poet, pale and dejected, entered
the salon, to say farewell. In this melancholy
hour, the presentiment that he would never return
from his expedition, and that they would never
meet again, seemed to strengthen to certainty.
" Here we are now all together," he said, sadly ;
" but when and where shall we meet again ? I
have a sort of boding that we see each other
for the last time, as something tells me, I shall
never again return from Greece."

Then, unable to control his voice any longer, he
leaned his head on the arm of the sofa on which
he and Lady Blessington were seated, and, bursting

96 THE MOST GORGEOUS

into tears, sobbed for some time in the fulness of
bitter feeling. The whole party was impressed
and moved, and the hostess especially, ever tender
and sympathetic, was overcome by grief.

Presently, by one of those strange and sudden
transitions of his character, Byron, drying his tears,
once more reproached her for not remaining in
Genoa until he sailed for Greece, again showing
some pique, and referring sarcastically to his ner-
vousness by way of excusing his emotion. Later
he softened once more, and gave them all some
little present, by which they might remember him
in years to come; to one a book, to another a
print of his bust by Bartolini, and to Lady Bless-
ington a copy of his Armenian grammar, which
contained notes in his own writing. In return,
he asked for some souvenir, something she had
worn that he might keep ; on which she took a
ring from her finger and gave it to him.

Byron was touched and gratified, and on the
impulse of the moment took from his stock and
presented to her a pin bearing a small cameo of
Napoleon, which the poet said had long been his
companion.

When the final words came to be said, his lips
quivered, his voice became inarticulate, and tears
rushed into his eyes. His parting was full of
melancholy.

That night Lady Blessington, heavy of heart,
and oppressed by nervous fear, wrote in her diary :

LADY BLESSINGTON 97

" Should his presentiment be realised, and we
indeed meet no more, I shall never cease to re-
member him with kindness ; the very idea that I
shall not see him again overpowers me with sad-
ness, and makes me forget many defects which
had often disenchanted me with him. Poor Byron !
I will not allow myself to think that we have met
for the last, time, although he has infected us all
by his superstitious forebodings."

Though they were to see him no more, they
were to hear from him again before they left
Genoa, for next morning came a note which con-
tained the following words :

" MY DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON : — I am superstitious,
and have recollected that memorials with a point are of less
fortunate augury. I will therefore request you to accept, in-
stead of the pin, the enclosed chain, which is of so slight a
value that you need not hesitate. As you wished for some-
thing worn, I can only say that it has been worn oftener
and longer than any other. It is of Venetian manufacture,
and the only peculiarity about it is that it could only be
obtained at or from Venice. At Genoa, they have none of
the same kind.

" I also enclose a ring, which I would wish Alfred to
keep, — it is too large to wear : but it is formed of lava, and
so far adapted to the fire of his years and character. You
will perhaps have the goodness to acknowledge the receipt
of this note, and send back the pin (for good luck's sake),
which I shall value much more for having been a night in
your custody."

CHAPTER V.

First Sight of Naples— The City Crowds— A Magnificent
Palace — Entertaining — Sir William Gell — My Lord's Ex-
travagance — The Building of a Fairy Palace — Lord Bless-
ington Returns to Italy — Travelling in Former Times —
The Inn at Borghetto — Life in the Palazzo Belvedere —
Young Mathews as a Mimic — Amateur Theatricals — Above
the Bay.

•ROM Genoa the Blessington party trav-
elled to Florence, where they stayed
about a month, then visited Siena and
Rome, which in the month of July they found
intolerably hot, and thence to Naples, their desti-
nation.

Reaching this wonderful city by one of the
steep hills in its background, they stopped their
carriages to look down with delight on the laby-
rinth of streets, tortuous, quaint, and narrow, and
vivid-coloured in the glow of the sun ; on the
palaces surrounded by terraces and gardens ; on
innumerable churches with domes and bell-towers,
and, above all, on the bay, serene and sunny, whose
unbroken blue was scarce darker than the sky,
whose islands three floated verdant and phantas-
mal beyond, whose opposite shores were dotted by

98

LADY BLESSINGTON 99

villages white in the glare, and lined by groves of
orange and lemon that descended to the sea.

Here was the city of their dreams, the city
they had travelled far to see, the first sight of
which held them speechless. And if by day 'twas
wonderful, by night and moonlight it was magical :
here they resolved to stay. At first they hired a
suite of rooms in the hotel Grand Bretagna, whilst
looking out for a suitable residence in which to
settle. The life of the city surged around them ;
and all things — the crowds with their volcanic
gaiety, the shops full of antiquities, the market-
places, the quarters of the ear-ringed, red-capped
fishermen, the religious processions and church
ceremonies — were new with a newness that
brought delight.

At night, when refreshing breezes crept up from
the bay, mirthful as children free for a holiday,
they went into the streets to mix amongst the
people and make one of them ; passing the cafe's
and ice shops with their marble tables and brilliant
lights ; the tobacco shops with their crowds ; the
portable barrows or bottegi with their canopies of
striped lawn, the gorgeous colours of their ill-
drawn pictorial designs, their bright-hued paper
lanterns, where were sold lemonade, ice- water, or
sorbetto, macaroni hot and savoury smelling, water-
melons, mines of golden fruit in green rinds,
pomegranates scarlet and juicy, frittura, shell-
fish, gingerbread fantastically shaped, and pictures

ioo THE MOST GORGEOUS

of the Madonna and saints. Then for ever above
the din of those who cried their wares, and the
indistinct murmur of crowds, came the sounds of
guitars and the voices of singers as they passed a
corner or came through the archway of an alley ;
or the high-pitched prayers of a beggar ; or the
ringing laughter of women's voices, all sounds
perhaps suddenly hushed as a priest and his aco-
lyte passed through a lane of kneeling figures,
bearing the host to one dying.

On the Chiaja in the evening cool, carriages
drove backward and forward, in which were seated
dark-complexioned women with glowing eyes and
raven hair, fanning themselves languorously, ges-
ticulating, smiling.

In the mole down by the sea, and full of the
brine of its breath, the crowds were chiefly com-
posed of brown-legged, bare-armed sailors, with
their wives, whose full throats were clasped by
amber and coral. Here a young man, whose voice
was sweet as music, whose face was like to Caesar
on a coin, recited Tasso's " Gerusalemme " to
groups of men and women, whom he stirred and
swayed, and whose silence was broken only by
bursts of applause.

Farther down were two who sang duets, love
songs and songs of the sea, accompanying them-
selves on their guitars ; whilst in another direction
Punch, a genuine native of this clime, played pranks
and jested wittily to crowds who watched his antics

LADY BLESSINGTON 101

by the glare of oil lamps, and answered his quips
with peals of laughter.

And not far from him, standing on a chair, his
voice raised, his gestures imploring, a scarce heeded
monk called sinners to repentance.

After having looked at half the palaces in
Naples and its environs, the Blessingtons at last
hired as their residence the Palazzo Belvedere at
Vomero, a princely building situated on a hill that
gave it a magnificent prospect, and surrounded by
beautiful gardens that overlooked the bay. A
stately archway led through spacious pleasure-
grounds, planted with palms and oranges and
sweet-smelling shrubs, to the palace, which formed
three sides of a square, the fourth being filled by
an arcade. In the centre of the courtyard was a
marble fountain mellowed by time to an amber
hue. A pillared colonnade extended in front ; the
windows of the five reception-rooms opened on a
raised terrace with marble balustrades, at one end
of which was an open-arched pavilion that looked
out upon the "happy fields" lying at the base
of a foreground of descending vineyards ; beyond
lay Vesuvius, the mountain itself a purple height
against transparent blue ; and below slept the bay,
a scene and source of undying beauty, of unending
delight.

Interiorly the palace was spacious and lofty, the
ceilings painted and gilded, the floors of marble,
pillars of Oriental alabaster supporting archways,

102 THE MOST GORGEOUS

statues and pictures filling rooms and galleries.
Before taking possession of the palace, Lady
Blessington added to the cumbrous sofas, the gilt
chairs, the tables of malachite and agate, with
which it was already furnished, curtains, carpets,
rugs, and various articles which gave comfort to its
somewhat chilling splendour.

Then their English banker living in Naples, a
most gentlemanly and obliging personage, engaged
Neapolitan servants for them, when their mistress
became acquainted with a system of housekeeping
different from any she had known before, and one
which saved a world of trouble and imposition, —
this being that an agreement was entered into
with the cook to furnish all meals according to the
number of dishes at a stipulated price per head,
each guest invited being paid for at the same rate.
At the end of each week a bill, resembling that of
a hotel, except that it contained no separate items,
was presented by the cook, and checked by the
maitre d' hotel.

Being now established in the Palazzo Belvedere,
Lady Blessington heartily congratulated herself on
the comforts of a private house, after spending
eleven months in hotels. Dear to her was the
comfort of "being sure of meeting no strangers
on the stairs ; no intruders in the anterooms ; of
hearing no slappings of doors ; no knocking about
of trunks and imperials ; no cracking of whips of
postilions ; no vociferations of couriers ; and, above

LADY BLESSINGTON 103

all, of not having our olfactory organs disgusted
by the abominable odour of cigars. Surely," she
says, "an exemption from such annoyances, after
an endurance of them for nearly a year, is, in itself,
a subject for satisfaction ; but to have secured such
an abode as this palazzo is indeed a cause for
thankfulness."

Lady Blessington and her party now gave
themselves up to sightseeing and to entertain-
ing. Scarcely a day passed that some foreigner
of distinction, or some Englishman of position,
passing through or visiting Naples, did not dine
with them, whilst she was ever ready to welcome
them to her salon in the evenings. Their hos-
pitality was widespread and warm-hearted.

Now it was Prince Buttera who dined with
them, — the prince, once a plain soldier of fortune,
having gained the hand, and with it the wealth
and title, of a princess and an heiress who had
fallen in love with him ; then it was Mill in gen the
antiquary, who stayed some days with and gave
them lectures on numismatics ; again, their guests
were the Duke of Roccoromano and Prince Ischit-
telli ; or Count Paul Lieven, a Russian who spoke
English fluently, or Herschel the English as-
tronomer, and Hamilton the English minister, or
the Due de Fitzjames, or Lord Howden, or West-
macott the young sculptor, or Lord Dudley, who
was eccentric, but was not considered mad, owing
to his possessing fifty thousand a year ; or Lord

104 THE MOST GORGEOUS

Ashley on his way to Sicily, or Lord Guilford
returning from Corfu.

Then they were entertained by Harry Neale,
admiral of the English fleet stationed in the bay ;
or were conducted by night to the observatory at
Capo di Monte by Herschel himself, where they
viewed the stars ; or were invited to dinner by
the Archbishop of Tarentum, a white-haired, pic-
turesque prelate, suspended from his office for
dabbling in revolutions, who wished them to
meet Son Altesse Royale, the Prince Gustave
of Mechlenbourg ; or were taken by Lord Dudley
to see the beautiful grounds of the Villa Gallo ;
or ascended Vesuvius, and spent a day at Pompeii
under the guidance of the learned Sir William
Gell, leading in all a joyous life, unknown to care.

One of their most frequent guests and intimate
friends was Sir William Gell, the archaeologist
and traveller, who had published many learned
works, and had in his day played the part of a
courtier, he having accompanied Queen Char-
lotte, the unhappy wife of George the Fourth,
in her journey to Italy, as one of her chamber-
lains. From 1820 he lived in Italy, having a
house in Rome and another in Naples, where,
"surrounded by books, drawings, and maps, with
a guitar and two or three dogs/' he received
numbers of distinguished visitors. For years pre-
vious to his death he suffered from gout and
rheumatism, but though his hands were swollen

LADY BLESSINGTON 105

to a great size with chalkstones, he handled a
pencil or pen with great delicacy, and sketched
with remarkable rapidity and accuracy.

In Lady Blessington's salon, where he was ever
welcome, he rolled himself about in his chair,
being unable to walk, telling her droll anecdotes,
talking on archaeological subjects, or playing on
a rough Greek double flute as an accompaniment
to a dog whom he had taught to sing in a won-
derful manner. It was he who probably inspired
her with a desire to see the Pyramids, for she
talked much of journeying to Egypt about this
time, though the project was never accomplished.

Sir William Cell was not the only resident who
served to make Lady Blessington's stay agreeable ;
for at this period there had settled here a group
of well-known individuals, many of them her
own countrymen, who formed a delightful social
circle.

Amongst them was Sir William Drummond, at
one time British envoy extraordinary and minis-
ter plenipotentiary to the King of the two Sicilies,
a learned man and a prolific author, a philosopher
and a poet who so far outraged philosophy and
followed poetry as to marry, when advanced in
life, a gay young wife, who spent his immense
wealth freely, dressed magnificently, and graciously
smiled upon her lap-dog and her husband's secre-
tary. The Abbe" Campbell, an ecclesiastic of the
old school, was another person of note ; rotund

io6 THE MOST GORGEOUS

in person, purple-visaged, snuff-smeared, and bull-
necked ; an Irishman, a wit, a lover of good wine,
a satirist, who, though devoid of the advantages
of birth or breeding or culture, could boast of the
friendship of kings and princes, and exercised a
mysterious influence over the governments of
great countries. Humourous as he was, he was
not excelled in that quality by another Hibernian,
Doctor Quinn, who had a large practice amongst
the English residents and visitors, a man ever
ready with repartee, full of humanity, hearty and
most hospitable.

Scarce less a favourite amongst all was Doctor
Reilly, likewise Irish, a retired navy surgeon,
wild-spirited, who in his day was concerned with
strange romances in which rope ladders and con-
vent walls formed conspicuous scenic effects, but
who now had settled down to matrimony which
brought wealth. Never was man more jocose,
especially at his table, around which he delighted
to gather his friends not less than twice a week ;
and many rare passages of arms were exchanged
between himself and the abbe".

Then came a dear and lovable old man, General
Wade, from Westmeath, who, by some strange
turn of fortune's wheel, was commandant of the
Castello D'Ovo, and who rejoiced in entertaining
his friends, not alone with the pleasures he set
before them, but by the stories which he told
them ; harmless, full of frolic, now and then

LADY BLESSINGTON 107

throwing side-lights upon his own adventures and
the bravery of his deeds.

The Hon. Keppel Craven, Lord Craven's son,
was another of this group, a particular friend of
Sir William Cell, with whom he had acted as
chamberlain to George the Fourth's wife when
she had set out on her travels, but whose service
he left at Naples. A scholar, a musician, an
amateur actor, and something of an artist, he was
always warmly welcomed at the Palazzo Belvedere.

And not least of this group was Captain Hesse,
the son of a Prussian banker, who had obtained a
commission in an English regiment, whose hand-
some appearance had caused the Princess Charlotte
of Wales, when a girl, to smile at him encour-
agingly as he gaily rode past her window, and
later to enter into a correspondence with and give
him her portrait.

With these and others who came and went, the
residents of the Palazzo Belvedere were well enter-
tained. But scarcely had his family been settled
at Naples, than Lord Blessington found it neces-
sary to return to England, and, subsequently, to
Ireland, that he might arrange some pressing
business. Whilst travelling with a retinue of
servants through France and Italy, hiring suites
of apartments in expensive hotels, and entertain-
ing largely, he yet kept up his town house in
St. James's Square, and his country house in
Mountjoy Forest.

io8 THE MOST GORGEOUS

This expenditure outran his income, his estates
being already hampered by mortgages, and large
sums of ready money were raised from time to
time on his property, such paltry considerations
by no means interfering with his characteristic
extravagance. Nay, even at this time he thought
of erecting a castle in Mount joy Forest, instead of
the roomy, rambling old house in which he resided
when he visited Ireland for a few weeks in the
hunting season.

He was full of this idea when in London in the
summer of 1823, and, whilst one day visiting his
friend, Charles Mathews, the actor, was struck by
some plans and designs he saw hanging on the
walls of his rooms. The actor proudly explained
that these had been drawn by his son Charles,
who had been articled for four years to Augustus
Pugin, the architect, and was now about to start
for himself. With his habitual good nature, Lord
Blessington there and then declared he would give
the lad an opportunity of making his name in the
profession he had selected, by letting him erect
Mount joy Castle. The elder Mathews, who was
delighted at the project, offered his profuse thanks,
when the earl and the actor parted. Young Charles
had been educated at Merchant Taylor's School,
and afterward under a private tutor at Clapham.
It had been his father's intention to make a clergy-
man of the boy, who, however, showed no inclina-
tion to become a parson. Handsome and graceful

LADY BLESSINGTON 109

in person, he was quick and vivacious in tempera-
ment, sunny-natured, full of tact, with a rich
inheritance of varied talent, and a gentleness withal
that won him the admiration and love of those who
knew him.

To him Lord Blessington's promise was a source
of excitement and delight, which was heightened
a couple of weeks later by the receipt of the
following letter, addressed by the earl to Charles
Mathews, the elder :

" If you like the idea, send him (Charles) off forthwith to
Liverpool or Holyhead, from which places steamers go, and
by the Derry mail he will be here (with resting a day in
Dublin) in five days ; but he must lose no time in setting
off. I will bring him back in my carriage."

To this was added in a postscript an invitation,
which it was hoped might tempt the elder Mathews
to visit a country in whose capital he had, in his
youth, performed without credit to himself.

" I suppose," it said, " It would be utterly use-
less my asking you to come with Charles ; but if
you wish to spend a week in one of the most
beautiful spots in Ireland, eat the best venison,
Highland mutton, and rabbits, and drink the best
claret in Ireland, this is the place ; and you would
be received with undivided applause, and I would
give you some comical dresses for your kit."

The invitation was no sooner received than it
was accepted on behalf of the son, who was soon

no THE MOST GORGEOUS

ready to start for Ireland, but had to wait a couple
of days before beginning his journey, as the mail-
coach was full, whilst a similar occurrence de-
tained him in Dublin, Once arrived at Mountjoy
Forest, he began what he terms the grand project,
and revelled in the delightful occupation of build-
ing castles in the air. The earl was enthusiastic
regarding his scheme. As Mathews relates in his
autobiography, " fifty different plans were furnished,
and fifty different alterations were suggested, till
the time ran away, and we were not much further
advanced than when we started. Lord Blessington
was absorbed in his grand idea, and went mad over
the details. Suggestion upon suggestion, and al-
teration upon alteration, succeeded each other hour
by hour ; but nothing daunted, I followed all his
caprices with patience and good-humour, and even
derived amusement from his flights of fancy."

The fact was, as this shrewd young man soon
discovered, that his chief charm lay in his acqui-
escence with my lord's whims. He had already
been furnished with plans, on a magnificent scale,
for a castle by Wyatt, who would not permit a
suggestion, or allow an alteration, a despotism that
by no means suited the earl, who really wanted to
design the residence, and to suggest the arrange-
ments, and merely required some one smart enough
to put his plans in shape, and carry out his practi-
cal details. " I am just the person for him," says
Mathews, "ardent as himself, and rather delight-

LADY BLESSINGTON in

ing in, than objecting to, the constant exercise for
ingenuity his exuberant conceptions afforded me,
and we laboured capitally together."

In this way a couple of months were pleasantly
passed, when, after much deliberation, and innumer-
able changes, an appropriate site for the castle was
selected, the ground plan was marked out to the
proper scale, and the turf dug at the chosen spot.
Stones were then raised to the height of six feet
all around the building, in order to judge of the
views from the lower windows. And all this being
done, they found, to their mortification, that sight
was lost of a certain piece of river and an old
stone bridge which they had calculated on getting
into the perspective. Lord Blessington was not a
man to allow obstacles of any kind to stand be-
tween him and his wishes ; so the young architect
received orders to change the course of the river,
that it might be brought into view ; then an ugly
hill on the other side was to be carted away, whilst
a big bare mountain, likewise objectionable, which
might not readily lend itself to such treatment,
was to be planted with firs and larch, for which
purpose a hundred and fifty thousand were removed
from the nursery to the spot.

" Are not these grand doings ? " asks young
Mathews, in writing to his mother.

The pleasant task of planning the fairy palace
did not wholly occupy the time of host and guest,
who diverted themselves with stag-hunting, rabbit-

H2 THE MOST GORGEOUS

shooting, sightseeing, and play - acting between
whiles ; when Mathews, who inherited his father's
talents, and was a capital mimic, an excellent actor,
and a rare story-teller, appeared as the hero in
"Jeremy Diddler;" Charles Gardiner, my lord's
illegitimate son, playing Fainwould ; and the earl
representing Sam. The country gentry were in-
vited, and great fun followed. Concerning one of
these, who probably had drunk overmuch of the
best claret in Ireland, Mathews tells a delightful
anecdote not to be omitted.

This individual was offered a bed, and "he
undressed himself in his dressing-room, put out
his candle, and entered his bedroom. But after
groping around and around the room for some
time, he could not find any bed, and there being
no bell, he laid himself down on the rug, and slept
till morning. On awakening he discovered that
there was a most beautiful bed in the middle of
the room."

Now the fairy palace having been raised to the
height of six feet, the earl discovered that nothing
more could be done until Lady Blessington had
seen and approved of the plans, and he therefore
proposed to carry the young and docile architect
with him to Naples, where she might be consulted,
and all further details carried out under her in-
structions. The lad's parents were asked to con-
sent to this arrangement, and the elder Mathews
wrote that he could not find language " to convey

LADY BLESSINGTON 113

the high sense I have of the honour and friendship
you have conferred on me in the person of Charles,
nor of the gratification I feel that you deem him
worthy of the proposed distinction of residing with
Lady Blessington and yourself during the winter ; "
whilst as for Mrs. Mathews, " she was anxious to
waive all selfish consideration in order to give him
the whole advantage of your lordship's invaluable
friendship, and, regardless of aught else, to ensure
his welfare in your continued kind feelings toward
him. With all thankfulness for so unexpected and
great proof of it, she yields up -Charles to your
lordship's and Lady Blessington's entire direction ;
well assured and satisfied that, under such auspices
and associations, he must acquire much, and im-
prove in all things that can ensure him present
delight and lasting honour."

Young Mathews was delighted at the prospect
of seeing Italy, the land of his dreams. He could
scarcely believe his good fortune, and for days he
walked on air. There was a quick return to Lon-
don, where hasty preparations were made. Then
on the morning of the 2ist of September, 1823, he
bade his parents good-bye ; eyes were wiped, and
handkerchiefs were waved to him, who, seated be-
side his patron in a well-laden travelling-carriage
with four post-horses, was driven at a smart rate
from St. James's Square.

A world of wonders opened up before the young
man's sight, and he had ample time to examine

H4 THE MOST GORGEOUS

whatever interested him, owing to his lordship's
habits ; for the earl loved his ease and had no
desire to hurry ; he was not a walker, and sight-
seeing bored him ; he breakfasted in bed and there
read his newspapers and books, rising late in the
day, so that Mathews saw little of him save when
travelling or at meal-times. Fortunately for the
young man, Lord Bless ingt on had another travel-
ling companion in the person of Sir Charles Sutton,
who bore Mathews company in his excursions
abroad, and his visits to palaces, churches, and
galleries.

Seven days after their departure from London,
they had crossed the Jura and reached Geneva,
where, to their astonishment, they met Lady Bless-
ington's sister, Mrs. John Home Purves, with
her children and governesses, and the Hon. Man-
ners Sutton, when Lord Blessington pressed them
to accompany him to Naples, an invitation which
they were unable to accept. After two months'
travelling they reached Milan, where Lord Bless-
ington bought another carriage. As an instance
of the tediousness which travellers endured in
those days, it may be mentioned that, in journeying
from Genoa to Chiavari, they fell in, at about five
o'clock in the afternoon, with Lord Haywarden,
who had started from Spezia at half-past four in
the morning, and had only covered a distance of
seven miles meantime. He advised them not to
continue their journey : much rain had fallen, the

LADY BLESSINGTON 115

roads were covered with water and almost impass
able, and he had seen a carriage with ladies which
had been for four hours stuck in the river, from
which ten horses had been unable to drag them.

Lord Blessington would not, of course, listen to
advice, and soon he came to part of a road crossed
by a swollen stream, when he was obliged to hire
twenty stalwart peasants to drag them through the
water and push the carriages up a hill. Then they
reached Borghetto and took refuge in a hut called
by courtesy an inn. There was but one bedroom,
which was given up to my lord, two other beds
being brought into the salle-d-manger for his com-
panions. Rain poured in torrents all night, an
incessant noise was kept up, and any stray pigs
that were passing by graciously looked in on the
young Englishmen.

As for the room occupied by the elegant and
luxurious Lord Blessington, "it was the acme of
misery, and yet with a comic side to it. A small
truck bed, with a little alcove at the farther end,
over which was the staircase, whose creaking boards
completely banished sleep ; Lord Blessington, in a
large flannel nightcap, with a travelling shawl over
his shoulders, sitting up in bed with his books and
drawings strewed around him, his breakfast by his
side, served in the silver accessories of his travel-
ling kit ; a poor little rickety table set out with all
the profusion of costly plate and cut-glass bottles
of the emptied dressing-case, with brocaded dress-

n6 THE MOST GORGEOUS

ing-gowns on the broken-backed chairs, and im-
perials piled on imperials, almost reaching the
ceiling and actually filling the room. It was a
splendid subject for a picture. I must do him
justice," writes Mathews, " to say he bore his situa-
tion manfully."

It was impossible for them to quit this place
until the floods, which swamped the roads, subsided,
and meanwhile the rain fell black and steady.
Now to while away the weary hours, my lord and
his young friend covered the newly whitewashed
walls with grand cartoons ; the earl drawing a por-
trait of Napoleon on horseback, surrounded by his
generals, the architect picturing the great temple
at Paestum. They were eventually obliged to
leave the carriages behind them, and to travel
across swollen torrents on horseback, whilst their
luggage was carried in sedan-chairs.

And so after many strange adventures by flood
and field they reached their destination. "What
words can adequately describe the paradise to
which I was introduced at Naples ? " asks Mathews.
" The Palazzo Belvedere, situated about a mile and
a half from the town, on the heights of Vomero,
overlooking the city and the beautiful turquoise-
coloured bay dotted with latine sails, with Vesu-
vius on the left, the island of Capri on the right,
and the lovely coast of Sorrento stretched out in
front, presented an enchanting scene. The house
was the perfection of an Italian palace, with its

LADY BLESSINGTON 117

exquisite frescoes, marble arcades, and succession
of terraces one beneath the other adorned with
hanging groves of orange-trees and pomegranates,
shaking their odours among festoons, of vines and
luxuriant creepers, affording agreeable shade from
the noontide sun, made brighter by the brilliant
parterres of glowing flowers, while refreshing foun-
tains plashed in every direction among statues and
vases innumerable. I was naturally entranced and
commenced a new existence.

" Lady Blessington, then in her youth, and
certainly one of the most beautiful as well as
one of the most fascinating women of her time,
formed the centre figure in the little family group
assembled within its precincts.

" Count D'Orsay was the next object of attrac-
tion, and I have no hesitation in asserting was the
beau ideal of manly dignity and grace. He had
not yet assumed the marked peculiarities of dress
and deportment which the sophistications of Lon-
don life subsequently developed. He was the
model of all that could be conceived of noble de-
meanour and youthful candour ; handsome beyond
all question ; accomplished to the last degree ;
highly educated, and of great literary acquire-
ments ; with a gaiety of heart and cheerfulness of
mind that spread happiness on all around. His.
conversation was brilliant and engaging as well
as clever and instructive. He was, moreover, the
best fencer, dancer, swimmer, runner, dresser ; the

n8 THE MOST GORGEOUS

best shot, the best horseman, the best draughts-
man of his age. Possessed of every attribute that
could render his society desirable, I am sure I do
not go too far in pronouncing him the perfection of
a youthful nobleman."

Then came Miss Power, Lady Blessington's
youngest sister, somewhat demure in aspect, of
quiet and retiring manners, contrasting sweetly
with the more dazzling qualities which sparkled
around her. Lady Blessington has been de-
scribed as a peach blossom, and Miss Power as a
primrose by her side.

The great salon of the villa occupied its centre,
and here in one corner was Lady Blessington's
table, covered with flowers, books, and writing-
materials ; in another corner Miss Power had
her table, Count D'Orsay his in a third, filled
with artistic litter, whilst a fourth was given to
Mat hews, where he might map out his plans and
draw his designs. My lord had an adjoining sanc-
tum all his own, in and out of which he strolled
continually, asking questions, proposing some party
of pleasure, or speaking of his occupations, the
designs for his castle, and the plot of the novel
he was then engaged in writing. Regarding the
former, he told a friend, " I discovered that Lady
Blessington did not like our plan, and so, without
arguing the topic, I determined upon abandoning
it. Knowing also how difficult, if not impossible,
it is to do anything which everybody likes, I deter-

LADY BLESSINGTON 119

mined to make a residence out of my present
cottage, which everybody dislikes."

The fact that all idea of erecting the fairy
palace was abandoned was concealed from the
young architect, who continued to sketch the fa-
mous ruins, churches, and palaces, in the neigh-
bourhood. His hosts were anxious to keep under
their roof a young man of so lively a spirit, so
entertaining a manner, buoyant, clever, a maker- of
epigrams, a writer of vers de sociM, a surprising
mimic, a clever sketch er, wonderful in his im-
promptus, an excellent actor, and withal full of
tact, amiable, frank, and lovable.

Now he was getting up theatricals, in which
Miss Power, in a pair of white trousers, buff waist-
coat, and blue frock-coat, with beard, moustaches,
and eyebrows made of cork, was introduced as a
young Spanish gentleman ; he himself was dis-
guised "as a nice old doctor, bulky and powdered,"
with black net breeches, white silk stockings, and
large buckles ; whilst the countess, who made one
of the amateurs, was dressed as an old lady, in an
embroidered silk gown, a cap, and a quantity of
curls in front, powdered. " I never in my life saw
anything so perfectly beautiful," writes the lad
to his mother. "I would have given a hundred
pounds for you to have seen her. You never saw
such a darling as she was altogether."

Again he was providing his hosts and their
guests with entertainment which he alone pro-

120 THE MOST GORGEOUS

vided. In a marvellously short time he had picked
up the Neapolitan dialect, manner, and peculiar-
ities, and with these in his possession he gave
imitations of characters well known to the town.
Amongst those, the individual who recited " Ariosto
and Tasso " to an entranced crowd. Then he im-
itated the mendicants, the street preachers, and
musicians, whose songs he sang to an accompani-
ment on the guitar, as, after dinner, he with his
friends sat in the loggia overlooking the bay, the
caressing warmth of a southern night in the air,
the yellow moonlight full upon the bay.

Once when Miss Power was ill, and had sixty
leeches applied to her in three days, Mathews, in
order to divert her, dressed himself as a doctor
and visited her. After sitting down beside, and
talking to her for some time, he took the nurse
aside to ask her some droll questions, which the
woman, not recognising him, answered in detail,
and even consulted him on several subjects.
Then D'Orsay, very serious of mien, took her out
of the room to inquire what the doctor had said,
and presently sent her in again to ask another
question, but on her return no doctor was visible,
only young Mathews, who had put away his wig.
She searched the room for the medical man, and
would not be convinced she had been hoaxed,
until the wig was replaced and the grave manner
resumed, when her astonishment became the most
laughable thing in the world.

LADY BLESSINGTON 121

This personation was such a success that, next
evening, when Sir William Gell, Keppel Craven,
Prince Lardaria, and Count Lieven came to dinner,
Mathews was asked to represent the doctor once
more. So away he stole, and presently sent down
word to say that, having visited Miss Power, he
wished to pay his respects to her ladyship. Im-
mediately after he was shown into the room, when
the guests, who had no suspicion of his individ-
uality, all rose. My lady played her part, asked
questions concerning his patient, and spoke of the
climate. He was next requested to sing the song
he had made a few days before, when he complied
by giving them " One Hundred Years Ago."
Then he told them unintelligible anecdotes, made
jokes, and took his leave undiscovered by the
strangers.

When he reentered in his own person, they
began to tell him of the old bore who had just
quitted them, and D'Orsay asked that Mathews
might give his imitation of the doctor's song,
which he sang over again precisely as before.
The imitation was declared excellent by all except
Prince Lardaria, who remarked it did not give him
the idea of so old a man, much to his confusion
when the truth was told him.

But even my lady was fated to be deceived by
her lively guest, for next morning he arranged his
hair, put on moustaches, changed his dress and
manner, and arrived at breakfast as Count Lieven.

122 THE MOST GORGEOUS

Lady Blessington rose and made him an elegant
curtsey, when he burst out laughing, much to her
surprise, and the secret was out. But entering
into his joke, she insisted he should visit her sister,
on which he was introduced to the bedroom of the
invalid, who was overcome with shame that the
count should have been allowed to enter.

Between work and play, many delightful months
passed for Charles Mathews, who, writing to his
mother, in June, 1824, says:

" We are most happy in Belvedere, for during the hot
months it is the only breathing-place that can be found.
The sea air is always fresh, and the terraces always cool,
admitting of the most enchanting walks by the light of the
moon : indeed, nothing can equal these terraces, overlook-
ing the bay, and perfumed with the exquisite fragrance of
the flowers below.

"An Italian moonlight differs materially from ours in
England from the total absence of all fog, or damp mists ;
not even the slightest dew is perceptible. Not a breath of
air is stirring, or a sound of any kind to be heard except
the exquisite melody of our darling nightingales, who, from
the groves above which we stand and in which we are
enveloped, burst forth at short intervals with all that bril-
liancy and richness so often celebrated, but in such perfec-
tion so seldom heard. Belvedere at this hour is elevated
into the very highest heaven of poetry. Every moonlight
scene that ever was described, is here realised and sur-
passed. That glorious combination of sea, mountain, and
island, under the soothing, gentle light of the chaste Diana,
is viewed with a feeling of reverent admiration that abso-
lutely inspires the soul with an unearthly delight.

LADY BLESSINGTON 123

" The perfect clearness with which every object is visible
is quite inconceivable. In the midst of the glistening re-
flection of the pale light on the glassy surface of the sea,
is frequently seen the small white sail of the fishing-boat
gliding in silence through the calm water, or the shining
gondola enjoying the heavenly scene, training after it a
long line of silvery brightness, and sometimes the subdued
sounds of their distant music falling upon the ear. It is
really enchanting, and each night, with various effects of
light, I enjoy it from the terrace which adjoins my bedroom,
when all the rest of the house are quietly asleep. Here I
literally sit for hours in my morning-gown, without the least
desire to sleep, watching with delighted eye the fireflies,
their golden wings glistening as they chase each other from
place to place, and sometimes quite illuminating by their
numbers the deep purple shade of the garden."

CHAPTER VI.

Byron Starts for Greece — An Inauspicious Day — Storm and
Danger— A Desolate Place — In Missolonghi — Byron's Ill-
ness and Death — Tidings Reach the Palazzo Belvedere —
Leaving Naples — Residence in Florence — Lamartine and
Landor — An Original Character — An Eventful Life —
Landor's Friendship with Lady Blessington — Mutual Admi-
ration.

iITHIN five weeks of the departure of
Lady Blessington from Genoa, Byron
had started for Greece. Bearing in
mind his superstitious feelings, it may be consid-
ered strange that he set sail on a Friday ; a day
on which he had a horror of transacting any busi-
ness or of beginning any enterprise.

Once, when at Pisa, he had set out to visit a
friend at her new residence, but before reaching
the door he remembered the day was Friday, on
which he hurriedly turned back, not wishing, as
he said, to make his first visit on that day ; and
later he had sent away a Genoese tailor, who had
dared to bring home a new coat on the same
ominous day.

But now, in taking so important a step in his
life, either forgetful of the day in the midst of his

124

LADY BLESSINGTON 125

excitement, or believing that it was immaterial on
what day he began an undertaking which he felt
assured would be fatal to him, he set sail for
Greece on a Friday, embarking in an English brig,
the Hercules, which he had chartered to convey
himself and his suite, consisting of Count Gamba,
Captain Trelawney, Doctor Bruno, and eight ser-
vants.

At sunrise of a clear July morning they left the
port, but, there being no wind, they remained all
day in sight of Genoa, with her palaces and
gardens looking down from her superb heights
upon the sea. Night came, with a weird moon
looking ghastly upon a wild procession of om-
inous clouds scudding in fright apast her ; the wind
rose and woke the storm, a terror-struck sea
dashed around them, and for a time the Hercules
and her crew were in serious danger. Eventually
the captain was enabled to gain the port once
more, just as a blood-red dawn smeared the gray-
green sky, when Byron and his friends, chilled,
drenched, and overwrought, landed. He insisted
on visiting his palace once more, and reached it
as the triumphant light of the new-born day made
the Casa beautiful to the eyes of one who thought
to behold it no more ; but the poet reached his
home only to find it a desolate and an empty place
holding nothing but melancholy memories, for
early that morning Count Gamba had taken his
daughter from a house whose every spot mocked

126 THE MOST GORGEOUS

her by its associations with happiness, and had
driven with her, half-dazed and inert from grief,
to Bologna. Throughout the day Byron looked
thoughtful and depressed, remarked with a forced,
ironic laugh that such a bad beginning of his voy-
age was a favourable omen for its happy ending.
Then, by a quick transit of ideas, he dwelt upon
his past life and touched upon the uncertainty of
the future, -and turning to Count Gamba asked,
" Where shall we be in a year ? "

It looked, as the count afterward stated, " like
a melancholy foreboding, for on the same day of
the same month, in the next year, he was carried
to the tomb of his ancestors."

It took the greater part of a day to repair the
damage done to the brig, and when evening came,
Byron set sail once more. The weather was now
favourable, and the poet endeavoured to cast aside
his gloom. In August he reached the Ionian
Isles. Whilst at Cephalonia he wrote to the
Countess Guiccioli, begging her to be as cheerful
and tranquil as she could. "Be assured," he
says, "that there is nothing here that can excite
anything but a wish to be with you again."

Later still he tells her that the moment he can
join her will be as welcome to him as any period
of their recollection. From Cephalonia he set sail
for Missolonghi, where, on the 22d of January,
1824, he completed his thirty-sixth year, on which
occasion he composed some verses, which he

LADY BLESSINGTON 127

thought were much better than he usually wrote ;
the second of which runs :

" My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of love are gone :
The worm, the canker, and the grief,
Are mine alone."

It was on the i$th of the following month
when, harassed, disappointed by ingratitude, and
unsettled, he was seized by convulsions so violent
that two men were obliged to hold him ; his agony
being so intense the while, that he felt had they
lasted a moment longer he must have died. So
soon as he could speak, he showed himself free
from all alarm, and coolly asked if this attack was
likely to prove fatal. " Let me know," he said.
" Do not think I am afraid to die, — I am not."

On the following morning he was weak and
pale, and, as he complained of feeling a weight in his
head, leeches were applied to his temples ; on their
removal it was found difficult to prevent a flow of
blood, and he fainted from exhaustion. As he
was lying in bed, " with his whole nervous system
completely shaken, the mutinous Suliotes, covered
with dirt and splendid attires, broke into his apart-
ment, brandishing their costly arms and loudly de-
manding their wild rights. Lord Byron, electrified
by this unexpected act, seemed to recover from
his sickness, and the more the Suliotes raged, the
more his calm courage triumphed." The scene

128 THE MOST GORGEOUS

was truly sublime, as Colonel Stanhope, who was
present, states.

This scene was but a supplement to " the shoot-
ing and slashing in a domestic, quiet way " that
formed part of his housekeeping. He soon looked
forward to the recovery of his health and the be-
ginning of his campaign, when he proposed to take
the field at the head of his own brigade and the
troops which the government of Greece were to
place under his orders. But he failed to recover
so rapidly as he expected, for he frequently com-
plained of vertigos that made him feel as if intoxi-
cated, of nervous sensations, of nervousness, and
tremors, all of which he attributed to full habit.

Accordingly, he lived on dry toast, vegetables,
and cheese, drank only water, and continually
measured himself around the waist and wrists,
when, if he thought himself getting stout, he took
strong doses of medicine ; for in leaving Italy he
had taken "medicines enough for the supply of a
thousand men for a year." His friends strove
to persuade him to return to Cephalonia, where
he might have a better chance of recovering his
health than at Missolonghi, where heavy rains
had rendered the swamps impassable, and where
a plague had broken out, so that, obliged to remain
indoors, he had no exercise save drilling and single-
stick ; but he refused to leave.

Becoming impatient of confinement, he rode out
one day with Count Gamba, when they were over-

LADY BLESSINGTON 129

taken by a heavy shower, which drenched them.
A couple of hours after the poet had returned
home he was seized with shudderings and com-
plained of fever. But next day he was again in
the saddle, but once more was subjected to shud-
derings, which caused him much pain. " I do not
care for death/' he said, " but these agonies I can-
not bear." His illness was pronounced to be
rheumatic fever, and he kept his bed. He was
now unable to gain sleep, or to take nourishment ;
he suffered from his head, and grew weaker. He
became afraid that he was losing his memory, to
test which he repeated some Latin verses, with
their English translation, which he had not striven
to remember since his schooldays.

His doctors wished to reduce his inflammatory
symptoms by bleeding, but to this he offered the
strongest objection, quoting from an essay recently
published, that less slaughter was effected by the
lance than by the lancet ; and stating that they
might do what they pleased with him, but bleed
him they should not. If his hour had come, he
would die, whether he lost or kept his blood.

These persuasions were renewed next day, they
telling him that unless he changed his resolution
his disease might operate in such a way as to de-
prive him for ever of reason ; an argument that
had its effect, for, partly annoyed, and partly per-
suaded, he cast at the doctors the fiercest glance
of vexation, and throwing out his arm, said, in the

130 THE MOST GORGEOUS

angriest tone, " There, you are, I see, a damned set
of butchers ; take away as much blood as you like,
but have done with it."

The blood was drawn, but the result not being
such as was expected, the operation was twice re-
peated next day, as appearances of inflammation of
the brain were hourly increasing. Count Gamba
and the poet's valet, Fletcher, were in tears, which
they strove to conceal by hastening from the
room. Captain Parry, who had formed the ex-
pedition, says that "in all the attendants there
was the officiousness of zeal ; but owing to their
ignorance of each other's language, their zeal only
added to the confusion. This circumstance, and
the want of common necessaries, made Lord
Byron's apartment such a picture of distress, and
even anguish, during the last two or three days of
his life, as I never before beheld, and wish never
again to witness."

The end came soon. Periods of delirium en-
sued, followed by recovery of consciousness. On
being asked by Fletcher whether he should bring
pen and paper to take down his words, Byron
answered, "There is no time — it is now nearly
over. Go to my sister, tell her — go to Lady
Byron; you will see her and say — " Then his
voice became indistinct, and he muttered.

" My lord," said the sorrowing Fletcher, " I have
not understood a word your lordship has been
saying."

LADY BLESSINGTON 131

"Not understood me?" said Byron, in bitter
distress, "what a pity — then it is too late — all
is over."

"I hope not," answered the valet, "but the
Lord's will be done."

" Yes, not mine," the poet replied.

A strong antispasmodic potion was given him,
which produced sleep. When he woke, he said,
" Why was I not aware of this sooner ? My hour
is come ; I do not care for death, but why did I
not go home before I came here? There are
things which make the world dear to me ; for the
rest, I am content to die."

Toward six in the evening he said, " Now I shall
go to sleep," and, turning around, he fell into a
slumber from which he woke no more ; his death
happened on the iQth of April, 1824.

One evening in the following month news was
brought to the Palazzo Belvedere of Byron's death,
news which, coming suddenly upon its residents,
rilled them with awe and gloom. For that night
and for days to come their spirits were subdued,
and their thoughts were turned in the same direc-
tion. Each recalled some trait of the poet's, some
characteristic speech ; they dwelt upon his fare-
well visit to them, and valued more than before
the trifling gifts he had given them. Lady Bless-
ington read over the notes she had made of his
conversations, and, as she did, it seemed as if
his voice had spoken the words.

132 THE MOST GORGEOUS

"Alas, alas I" she writes, "his presentiment of
dying in Greece has been but too well fulfilled, —
and I used to banter him on this superstitious
presentiment. Poor Byron ; long, long will you be
remembered by us with feelings of deep regret."

After a residence of nearly three years in
Naples, the Blessingtons resolved to leave that
city of delight. The length of her stay, and her
attachment to the people, made it painful for the
countess to depart. During the last week of her
sojourn her salon was nightly crowded by those
who were anxious to spend as much time as pos-
sible in her company ; whilst a vast number of
gifts were given her by way of remembrances.

She could not bring herself to think she was
quitting Naples for ever, and she strove to keep
her spirits up by a hope of revisiting a place so
full of happy memories ; but when the time came
for saying farewell she cried bitterly and freely,
her friends being not less moved.

Leaving Naples, they hurried through Rome,
made a short stay at Florence, and reached Genoa
in December, 1826. Lord Blessington had now
determined to return to England, but eventually
he changed his mind, and they, retracing their
steps, spent about six months in Pisa ; and in the
spring of 1827 arrived in Florence, then rich in
the wealth of its flowers.

At first they stayed at the hotel Schneiderrf,
but the perpetual bustle and the continual odour

LADY BLESSINGTON 133

of cooking fatigued my lady, who sought for a
quieter residence, and eventually took the Casa
Pecori, which had once belonged to Elise Bac-
ciocchi, Duchess of Tuscany. The villa was
charmingly situated, its principal windows open-
ing on a terrace bordered by orange-trees, and
overlooking the Arno.

Once established here, the Blessingtons threw
open their doors, and received the most distin-
guished men of the day. Amongst these were
two who particularly interested their hostess, —
one being M. de Lamartine, the French poet,
statesman, and traveller ; the other a man of rare
genius, Walter Savage Landor.

Lady Blessington's impressions of Lamartine are
amusing to read ; according to her, he had " a pre-
sence d' esprit not often to be met with in the gen-
erality of poets, and a perfect freedom from any
of the affectations of manner attributed to that
genus irritabile" But more remains behind : for
we learn he was handsome, distinguished, "and
dresses so perfectly like a gentleman, that one
would never suspect him to be a poet. No shirt-
collars turned over an apology for a cravat, no long
curls falling on the collar of the coat, no assump-
tion of any foppishness of any kind ; but just the
sort of man that, seen in any society, would be pro-
nounced bien comme il faut" Lord Blessington
had been previously acquainted with Landor, and,
on coming to Florence, the earl soon sought out

134 THE MOST GORGEOUS

the author, whom he subsequently introduced to
Lady Blessington. Concerning him she had heard
much from acquaintances, and had looked forward
to their meeting with some anxiety.

Landor, who was at this time in his fifty-first
year, was a Warwickshire squire, a learned scholar,
a man of original mind, and the author of " Imag-
inary Conversations." Even whilst a Rugby
boy he became famous for his skill in making
Latin verses, and later, when he entered Trinity
College, Oxford, he was not less renowned for
his ability to make Greek verse. Though these
were, according to his own belief, the best in the
university, it was strongly characteristic of him
that here, as at Rugby, he refused to compete for
the prizes.

The waywardness of his temper, his unbending
will, his defiance of authority, and self-reliance had
shown themselves from a nearly age. When, as a
sturdy lad, he went a-fishing with a cast net, and
met with a farmer who interfered with this pastime,
Landor replied by flinging the net over him and
holding him captive. When Doctor James, head
master of Rugby, selected for approbation some
verses which Landor did not consider his best, he
gratified his indignation by writing on the fair copy
made of them, some insulting remarks, and this
action being repeated, Doctor James asked that
the boy might be removed, to avoid the neces-
sity of expulsion.

LADY BLESSINGTON 135

Whilst at Oxford, which he entered in 1793,
he gave offence by going into the hall with his
hair unpowdered, by way of illustrating his ten-
dencies to republicanism ; he wrote an ode to
Washington, and was not displeased to be termed
"a mad Jacobin." Later followed a freak which
brought him into trouble. One evening, whilst
entertaining friends at a wine party, he saw that a
Tory undergraduate, who occupied rooms opposite,
was similarly engaged, though the guests of the
latter, according to Landor, " consisted of servitors
and other raffs of every description." Taunts and
jeers were exchanged by both parties, until the
Tories closed their window-shutters, on which
Landor treated them to a few shots. Though
no harm was done, much noise was made. Lan-
dor refused all explanations, and was as a conse-
quence rusticated for a year.

This widened a misunderstanding which had
already existed between himself and his father ; a
stormy scene followed their meeting, when Lan-
dor left his father's house, as he declared and
believed, for ever, and going up to London, pub-
lished a volume of English and Latin poems.

Eventually peace was made between father and
son, when the former offered the latter four hun-
dred a year, if he would study law ; but proposed
to give him a hundred and fifty a year, with per-
mission to live at home whenever he pleased, if
he refused to take up a profession. Walter, who

136 THE MOST GORGEOUS

all his life hated restraint, preferred liberty and
the smaller sum, and, taking himself into Wales,
remained there some three years. His father
died in 1805, when Walter, being the eldest son,
had money and to spare. Three years after this
date, when the Spaniards rose against the French,
Landor joined the Spanish army, in whose expedi-
tions he took part.

When he was six and thirty, and at a period
when he was writing " Count Julian," he one night
entered a ballroom at Bath, and seeing a pretty
girl, asked her name. He was told it was Julia
Thuillier, on which he exclaimed, "By heaven,
that's the nicest girl in the room, and .I'll marry
her ! " A few days later he writes to his friend
Southey : " It is curious, that the evening of my
beginning to transcribe the tragedy, I fell in love.
I have found a girl without a sixpence, and with
very few accomplishments. She is pretty, grace-
ful, and good-tempered, — three things indispensa-
ble to my happiness. Adieu, and congratulate me."
Later he spoke to his mother of his intended bride,
as a girl " who had no pretensions of any kind, and
her want of fortune was the very thing which de-
termined me to marry her." The marriage took
place in haste and was repented at leisure. Mrs.
Landor was a simple, insignificant little woman,
who bore children, delighted in housekeeping, and
exhibited a nagging disposition to her husband.
"God forbid," Landor said, on one occasion, "that

LADY BLESSINGTON 137

I should do otherwise than declare that she always
was agreeable — to every one but me."

A couple of years after his marriage, he resolved
to live in France, a plan to which his wife strongly
objected. In what part of that country he would
end his days he had not yet decided, " but there I
shall end them," he writes to a friend, " and God
grant that I may end them speedily, so as to leave
as little sorrow as possible to my friends." No day
passed that his wife did not urge her disinclination
to live abroad. He subdued his temper, " the worst,
beyond comparison, that man was ever cursed
with," as he acknowledges. One evening, whilst
they were staying at Jersey, her irritating objec-
tions were renewed ; she nagged for an hour and
a half, without a syllable of reply from him, " but
every kind and tender sentiment was rooted up
from my heart for ever," he writes. At last, ex-
asperated, she, who was sixteen years his junior,
reproached herself with "marrying such an old
man."

Landor could stand this no longer, and hurried
away to his room, heart-sick and weary, and re-
mained tossing about, broad awake, for hours. He
rose at four o'clock, walked to the other side of the
island, and embarked alone on an oyster boat
bound for France, resolved never to see her more.

" I have neither wife nor family, nor house nor
home, nor pursuit nor occupation," he writes.
" Every man alive will blame me ; many will

138 THE MOST GORGEOUS

calumniate me ; and all will cherish and rejoice in
the calumny. All that were not unjust to me
before will be made unjust to me by her. A
thousand times have I implored her not to drive
me to destruction ; to be contented, if I acknowl-
ledged myself in the wrong ; to permit me to be
at once of her opinion, and not to think a conver-
sation incomplete without a quarrel. The usual
reply was, <A pleasant sort of thing, truly, that
you are never to be contradicted.' As if it were
extraordinary and strange that one should wish to
avoid it. She never was aware that more can be
said in one minute, than can be forgotten in a life-
time."

Poor Landor ; no wonder he wrote, years later,
" Death itself, to the reflecting mind, is less serious
than marriage."

A reconciliation was in due time effected, when
his sister-in-law wrote to acquaint him of his wife's
extreme grief, with the fact that she was seriously
ill, and of her desire to join him. This banished
from his generous mind all traces of resentment,
and he " wrote instantly to comfort and console
her." "My own fear is," he adds, "that I shall
never be able to keep my promise in its full
extent, to forgive humiliating and insulting lan-
guage. Certainly I shall never be so happy as I
was before : that is beyond all question."

They settled in town for some time, and then
went to Italy, living for three years at Como,

LADY BLESSINGTON 139

where his first child was born. An insult to the
authorities, contained in a Latin poem, was the
cause of his being ordered to leave the place,
when he went on to Pisa, where he remained
some three years before settling in a suite of
rooms in the Palazzo Medice in Florence in 1821.
Here he became a notable figure, remarked by
all for his eccentricities, beloved by many for his
characteristics. His courtesy to women was only
equalled by his love of children ; his generosity
was ever excessive ; his affection for animals led
him to treat them as human beings ; and flowers
were to him as living things. But his temper
for ever banished peace.

Scarcely had he been settled in Florence when
he conceived himself to have been treated " with
marked indignation " by the secretary of the Eng-
lish legation, so that he was obliged to ask that
individual "in what part of England or France
they might become better acquainted in a few
minutes." The offending individual was a poor-
spirited wretch who had no taste for a duel ; but
it appeared there was no end to the insults he
was capable of offering, for he positively pre-
sumed to whistle in the streets whilst passing
Mrs. Landor. "This," her husband thinks, "has
affected her health, and I am afraid may oblige
me to put him to death before we can reach Eng-
land. Is it not scandalous that our ministry
should employ such men ? I have a presentiment

140 THE MOST GORGEOUS

that you will hear something of me which you
would rather not hear, but my name shall be re-
spected as long as it is remembered." Blood was
spared over this affair, but not ink ; for Landor
wrote a letter to the foreign minister in Downing
Street, telling him that some curious facts were
in his possession "concerning more than one of
the wretches he has employed abroad."

Later than this he accused his landlord, the
Marquis de Medici, of having enticed away his
coachman. Next day, whilst Landor, his wife, and
some friends were sitting in the drawing-room, the
offended marquis came strutting in with his hat on ;
but he had not advanced three steps from the door
when Landor walked quickly up to him, knocked
his hat off, and then taking him by the arm, con-
ducted the astonished marquis to the door.

As to his personal appearance, Landor was
wholly indifferent. It was his custom to wear his
clothes until they could scarcely hang together ;
and years before, when he used to visit his sisters,
who were offended by his carelessness in this
respect, they would leave new garments by his
bedside, which he would put on in the morning
without discovering the change.

The wondering Italians, on seeing him, used to
say all the English were mad, but this one more
than the rest.

Many English visitors to Florence made the
acquaintance and friendship of this original man,

LADY BLESSINGTON 141

but with none of them did he become so intimate
as with the Blessingtons. The strong magnetic
charm, which few who approached Lady Blessing-
ton failed to experience, was felt from the first,
by Landor, whom it swayed to the end. On her
part, she was struck by the dignity and urbanity
of his manner, his fearless courage in the expres-
sion of his opinions, his contempt for what he
considered unworthy, the simplicity of his mode
of life, from which self-gratification was rigidly
excluded, his profuse generosity, and his almost
womanly tenderness.

She had been led to think him eccentric and
violent, but she confesses that the only singularity
she can find in him is " his more than ordinary
politeness toward women, — a singularity that I
heartily wish was one no longer." Then his fine
intellectual head, with its broad, prominent fore-
head, the eyes quick and expressive, and the
mouth full of benevolence, pleased her greatly.

Finding Lady Blessington sympathetic and
charming, a brilliant conversationalist and, what
was more, a willing listener, Walter Savage Lan-
dor visited her every evening from eight to eleven,
as he narrates, during his stay in Florence, and
when he moved to Fiesole, a distance of three
miles, he spent two evenings a week in her de-
lightful company.

And what conversations they had ! for on any
and on every subject he was ready and willing

142 THE MOST GORGEOUS

to vent decided opinions in vigorous English,
an idea of which may be gained from the con-
tents of his letters. For instance, she must not
praise him for his admiration of Wordsworth and
Southey. That was only a proof that he was not
born to be a poet. He was not a good hater;
he only hated pain and trouble. He thought he
could have hated Bonaparte if he had been a
gentleman, but he was so thorough a blackguard,
thief, and swindler, that, wherever he appeared,
contempt held the shield before hatred. Robert
Stewart, Viscount Castlereagh, afterward second
Marquis of Londonderry, was almost as mischie-
vous and was popularly a gentleman, but being an
ignorant and a weak creature, he escaped from
hatred without a bruise. And wasn't it remark-
able how very few people of the name of Stewart
had ever been good for anything ? He had known
a dozen or two, and the best of them was Dan
Stewart, a poacher at Oxford, whom he had in-
troduced into his " Penn and Peterborow."

It was amongst the few felicities of his life that
he had never been attached to a party or been a
party man. He had always excused himself from
dinners that he might not meet one. The Eng-
lish must be the most quiet and orderly people
in the universe, not to rush into the houses of the
rapacious demagogues, and tie them by the necks
in couples and throw them tutti quanti into the
Thames.

LADY BLESSINGTON 143

As for himself, he never cared one farthing
what people thought about him, and had always
avoided the intercourse and notice of the world.
He would readily stand up to be measured by
those who were high enough to measure him, —
men such as Coleridge, Southey, and Words-
worth. They had done it, and as their measure-
ment agreed, he was bound to believe it correct,
although his own fingers would have made him
an inch lower. A little while ago he was praised
only by such as these. Taylor and Leigh Hunt,
both admirable poets, had since measured him
beyond his expectations. He did not believe
such kind things would be said of him for at
least a century to come. Perhaps soon even
fashionable persons would pronounce his name
without an apology, and he might be patted on
the head by dandies with all the gloss upon
their coats, and with unfrayed straps to their
trousers. Who knew but that he might be en-
couraged at last to write as they instructed him,
and might attract all the gay people of the parks
and Parliament by his puff-paste and powder-sugar
surface ?

Then it occurred to him that authors were
beginning to think it an honest thing to pay
their debts, and that they are debtors to all by
whose labour and charges the fields of literature
have been cleared and sown. Few writers have
said all the good they thought and said of others,

144 THE MOST GORGEOUS

and fewer have concealed the ill. They praise
their friends, because their friends, it may be
hoped, will praise them — or get them praised.
As these propensities seemed inseparable from
the literary character, he had always kept aloof
from authors where he could. Southey stood erect
and stood alone. Landor loved him no less for
his integrity than for his genius.

Then he had been reading Beckford's travels
and his romance, "Vatheck." The last pleased
him less than it did forty years before, and yet
the "Arabian Nights" had lost none of their
charm for him. All the learned and wiseacres
in England had cried out against the wonderful
work upon its first appearance, Gray amongst
the rest. Yet Landor doubted whether any man,
except Shakespeare, had afforded so much delight,
if we open our hearts to receive it. The author
of the "Arabian Nights" was the greatest bene-
factor the East ever had, not excepting Mahomet.
How many hours of pure happiness had he be-
stowed on twenty-six millions of hearers ! All
the springs of the desert have less refreshed the
Arabs than those delightful tales, and they cast
their gems and genii over our benighted and foggy
regions.

Regarding dogs, somebody had told him the
illustrious Goethe hated dogs. God forgive him
if he did. He never could believe it of him.
Dogs were half poets ; they were dreamers. Did

LADY BLESSINGTON 145

any other animals dream ? For his own part he
loved them heartily : they were grateful, they
were brave, they were communicative, and they
never played cards.

Then as to his children, whom he worshipped.
He could scarcely bring his eldest son, Arnold, to
construe Greek with him, and, what was worse, he
was not always disposed to fence. Landor fore-
saw the boy would be a worse dancer, if possi-
ble, than his father. In vain he told him what
was true, that he had suffered more from his bad
dancing than from all the other misfortunes and
miseries of his life put together. Not dancing
well, he had never danced at all.

More than any words of friends or biographers,
a letter written by himself throws a vivid light
upon the original character of this man. Lady
Blessington, years later, expressed a wish that he
could be persuaded to write his memoirs. " What
a treasure would they prove to posterity," she
says. " Tracing the working of such a mind as
yours — a mind that has never submitted to the
ignoble fetters that a corrupt and artificial society
would impose — could not fail to be highly inter-
esting as well as useful, by giving courage to the
timid and strength to the weak, and teaching them
to rely on their intellectual resources, instead of
leaning on that feeble reed, the world, which can
wound but not support those who rely on it."

To which Landor made prompt answer :

146 THE MOST GORGEOUS

"DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON: — It has quite escaped
my memory whether I made any reply or remark on your
flattering observation, that my life, written by myself, would
interest the literary world and others. However, as you
have repeated it, I will say a few words on the subject. I
have always been cautious and solicitous to avoid the notice
of the publick ; I mean individually and personally. What-
ever I can write or do for their good is much at their ser-
vice, and I do not disdain to amuse them, altho' I would
not take any trouble about it. As for their curiosity in
regard to myself, it must remain ungratified. So little did
I court the notice of people, even when young, that I gave
my Latin poems, etc., to the printer, on one only condition,
namely, that he should not even advertise them in the
papers. I never accepted an invitation to dinner in Lon-
don, excepting at your house, and Sir Charles Morgan's,
once. He had taken a good deal of trouble to bring thro'
Parliament an Inclosure Act of mine, in which, by means
of Sir Charles Mordaunt, Dugdale, himself, Lord Manvers,
and Lord Walsingham, and I must not forget Lord Oxford,
I defeated the Duke of Beaufort and his family, but en-
countered so much opposition that, altho' I had saved a
thousand pounds for my purpose, hardly one shilling was
left, and my four thousand acres were and are still -unen-
closed. My own life-holders opposed me, for there were
but three freeholders in the parish, and very small ones.
My own land was calculated at about eight thousand acres ;
half enclosed, half not. I always hated society, and de-
spised opinion. Added to which, I must of necessity be
a liar in writing my life, since to conceal a truth or give a
partial evidence is to lie. I spent thirteen winters of my
early life in Bath, which at that time was frequented by the
very best society. I was courted in spite of my bad
temper, my unconciliating manners (to speak gently of
them), and my republican opinions. I once even inspired

LADY BLESSINGTON 147

love. There is no vanity in saying it. An old man or an
old woman may say, pointing at the fireplace, « These ashes
were once wood.' But there are two things in this world
utterly unpardonable, — to say and to forget by whom we
have been beloved. My rocks of Meillerie rise, but it is
only in solitude that I will ever gaze upon them. I have
nothing to do with people, nor people with me. A phre-
nologist once told me that he observed the mark of venera-
tion on my head. I told him in return that I could give
him a proof of it. I would hold the stirrup for Kosciusko,
the brandy-bottle for Hofer, the standish for Southey, and
I declare to you upon oath that I firmly believe myself
superior to any duke, prince, king, emperor, or pope exist-
ing, as the best of these fellows is superior to the most
sluggish and mangy turnspit in his dominions ; and I swear
to you that I never will be, if I can help it, where any such
folks are. Why should I tell my countrymen these things ?
Why should I make the worst-tempered nation in the world
more sullen and morose than ever? I love good manners,
and therefore keep out of their way, avoiding all possibility
of offence. I have been reading Sir Egerton Brydges'
autobiography. In one of the pages I wrote down this
remark : Poor man ! He seems to be writing in the month
of January, in the city of London, the wind northeast, with
his skin off. I would not live in London the six winter
months for a thousand pounds a week. No, not even with
the privilege of hanging a Tory on every lamp-arm to the
right, and a Whig on every one to the left, the whole extent
of Piccadilly. This goes sadly against my patriotism.
Do not tell any of the Radicals that I am grown so indiffer-
ent to the interests of our country. It appears that you
have a change of ministry. I hope the Tories will leave
Mr. Seymour his situation here as minister. He is the
first in Tuscany that ever did his duty. How different
from the idle profligate fiddler you remember here, and the

148 LADY BLESSINGTON

insolent adventurer, Dawkins. This ragamuffin, now minis-
ter in Greece, has lately been well described in the only
work upon that country of any great use or merit, by
Tiersch. Abundant proofs are given of his negligence and
stupidity. Who would imagine that he had profited so
little by living in such intimate familiarity with all the
swindlers, spies, and jockeys in Tuscany? However, he is
much improved, I hear. If he has not clean hands, he has
clean gloves. I have reason to believe that King Otho has
been informed of his character, and of his subservience to
the arbitrary acts of Capo D'Istra."

CHAPTER VII.

Landor and Lord Blessington Sail for Naples — Lander's Delight
in the Bay — His Impetuosity — The Blessingtons Leave
Florence — The Palazzo Negroni at Rome — Attending a
Bal Masque — Fallen Kings and Queens — The Mother of
Napoleon — Countess Guiccioli — Byron's Will — Lord Bless-
ington's Will — Count D'Orsay's Marriage — Letter to Lan-
dor— Once More in Genoa — The Story of Teresina — Lord
Blessington's Gift.

f

lEFORE the summer closed Lord Bless-
ington invited Landor to accompany
him in his yacht to Naples on an excur-
sion which he was sure would give pleasure to both.
To this suggestion Landor readily agreed, for he
had never seen Naples, and, as he wrote to his
sister, he " never could see it to such advantage
as in the company of a most delightful, well-
informed man." Lady Blessington remained in
Florence whilst the friends made their voyage.

Landor was delighted with all he saw. Those
who had not seen the Bay of Naples could form no
idea of its beauty from anything they had beheld
elsewhere. La Cava was of all places one of the
most beautiful. "It lies in the way to Paestum.
The ruins of the temples here, if ruins they can be
149

ISO THE MOST GORGEOUS

called, are magnificent ; but Grecian architecture
does not turn into ruin so grandly as Gothic. York
Cathedral a thousand years hence, when the Ameri-
cans have conquered and devastated the country,
will be more striking."

His pleasant trip was suddenly interrupted. At
the time of his leaving Florence, his boy Arnold,
just recovered from a fever, had been pronounced
quite convalescent, and had given his Babbo, as he
styled his father, leave of absence for twenty-five
days. On reaching Naples, Landor failed to find
a letter from home awaiting him. " I was almost
mad," he wrote to his sister, "for I fancied his ill-
ness had returned. I hesitated between drowning
myself and going post back. At last I took a place
(the only one ; for one only is allowed with the
postman in what is called the diligence). Mean-
while, Lord Blessington told me he would instantly
set sail if I wished it, and that I could go quicker
by sea. I did so ; and we arrived in four days at
Leghorn.

" Here he gave me a note enclosed in a letter to
him, informing me that Julia had been in danger
of her life, but was now better. I found her quite
unable to speak coherently ; and unhappily she was
in the country. Nevertheless, the physician, who
sometimes passed the whole day with her, and
once slept at the house, never omitted for forty-
three days to visit her twice a day, and now by his
great care she has reached Florence. I brought her

LADY BLESSINGTON 151

part of the way by means of oxen, on the sledge,
and upon two mattresses. To-day the physician
will attend her for the last time."

Mrs. Landor had caught a malignant fever, which
the youngest child had likewise taken, a fever that
might have spread to the other children had not
Lady Blessington driven to where they were then
staying in the country and brought them away
with her to her own residence.

After spending some eight months in Florence,
the Blessingtons resolved to leave. Their depar-
ture was a sad blow to Landor, who could remem-
ber no pleasanter time of his life in Italy than the
summer evenings passed with them in the Casa ;
for, as he wrote to his mother, "he had never
talked with a woman more elegant or better in-
formed, more generous or high-minded," than
Lady Blessington. So long as he remained in
the city, he never passed the house they had
occupied without feelings of regret. " It grieves
me," he writes to Lady Blessington, " when I look
up to the terrace ; yet I never fail to look up at it
when I am anywhere in sight, as if grief were as
attractive as pleasure." And then began his racy
and delightful letters to her, his correspondence
lasting till her death. Yet, as a correspondent, he
seems to have entertained but a poor opinion of
himself. " Now all your letters are of value," he
says to her, "and all mine stupid. I can write a
scene in a tragedy with greater ease than a letter.

152 THE MOST GORGEOUS

I never know what to write about. And what not
to say is a thousand times more difficult than what
to say. But you always supply me with materials,
and furnish me with a Grecian lamp to hang over
them."

This is a charming compliment, but not the
most charming which he paid her as a correspond-
ent ; for he tells her on another occasion that he
never entertains so high an opinion of his imagina-
tion as when reading her letters. " They always
make me fancy I hear and almost see you," he
writes. Nor was Landor the only man of genius
who especially valued this gift of hers. Years
later Barry Cornwall, writing to her, says, " Your
little letters always find me grateful to them.
They (little paper angels as they are) put devils
of all kinds, from blue down to black, to speedy
flight." And again this poet tells her: "Your
little notes come into my Cimmerian cell like star-
lets shot from a brighter region, pretty and pleas-
ant disturbers of the darkness about me. 1
imprison them (my Ariels) in a drawer, with
conveyances and wills, etc., and such sublunary
things, which seem very proud of their society.
Yet if your notes to me be skiey visitors, what
must this my note be to you ? It must, I fear, be
an evil genius."

Her personality, atmosphere, or magnetism, that
undefined potency which comes as a natural dower,
without which it is impossible to impress with love

LADY BLESSINGTON 153

or hatred, — that subtle power, which was found
fascinating in her intercourse, was conveyed in
her letters, and communicated its spell to their
readers.

From Florence the Blessingtons proceeded to
Rome, which they reached in November, 1827.
The palace, which had been engaged for them at
a rental of forty pounds a month, by no means
commended itself to the countess, and she im-
mediately began a search for a residence more
suitable to her desires. After a time this was
found in the Palazzo Negroni, where she engaged
the two principal floors at the rate of a hundred
guineas a month, for six months certain.

This being done, she hired furniture at twenty
pounds a month, and produced from her own
stores eider-down pillows, curtains, and table-cov-
ers, with the aid of which she filled and brightened
the three great salons the family were to occupy.

Then began anew that brilliant round of social
life such as they had known in Naples and Flor-
ence. Scarce a day passed that they were not
entertaining or being entertained. Such names
as Count Funchal, the Portuguese ambassador,
Hallam the historian, Lord Ho wick, the Due de
Laval Montmorenci, the French ambassador, the
Princesse de Montfort, Lord King, the Marchesa
Conzani, the Marchesa Camarata, the Due and
Duchesse de Brucciano, flash through the pages
of her diary as amongst those whom she received.

154 THE MOST GORGEOUS

One night, when Lady Blessington attended a
bal masque given by the Duchesse de Brucciano,
she was struck by a figure moving amongst a
thousand others in gorgeous coloured costumes,
which figure, a female mask, presently addressed
her, making witty and piquant remarks, and then
turning away was lost in the brilliant maze around,
leaving the countess in wonder as to whom it was.
But again the female mask appeared, and, once
more entering into conversation, announced that
she was Hortense Bonaparte, daughter of Joseph-
ine, and ex-Queen of Holland, now styled the
Duchesse de St. Leu.

Before the night ended came another surprise.
A mask in a blue domino had several times ac-
costed her and kept up a lively conversation.
Before they finally parted he confessed himself to
be Jerome Bonaparte, brother of Napoleon, and
ex-King of Westphalia, then known as the Prince
de Montfort.

Lady Blessington willingly availed herself of an
invitation extended to her by the ex-Queen of
Holland, who, like every one else, soon felt the
charm of her manner, and, becoming friendly,
showed her the household gods she held dear ;
amongst them some fine portraits of Napoleon
and Josephine, her bed furniture and toilet
service of gilt plate, and her jewels, including a
necklace of priceless diamonds presented by the
city of Paris to Josephine, and others given to

LADY BLESSINGTON 155

herself by the state of Holland. Nay, so pleased
was the ex-queen with her visitor, that she gave
her a turquoise and diamond ring which Josephine
had worn for many years, and that her daughter
highly valued.

Then one day, as Lady Blessington and her
party were walking in the gardens of the Vigna
Palatina, they were surprised by the arrival of the
Prince and Princesse de Montfort, with Madame
Letitia Bonaparte, mother of the great Napoleon,
who was attended by her chaplain, her dame de
compagnie, and other members of her suite. Hav-
ing heard that Madame Mere, as this mother
of kings was generally called, disliked meeting
strangers, the Blessington party retired to a dis-
tant part of the garden ; but the prince, hav-
ing recognised their carriage in the courtyard,
sent a message requesting that they would join
him.

On obeying, they were presented to his mother
and his wife. Madame Mere's tall, slight figure,
though bowed by age, preserved its natural dig-
nity and grace ; her face, pale and pensive, was
lighted by dark, penetrating eyes ; her snowy hair
was parted above a high forehead furrowed by
care. Dressed in a robe of dark gray silk, "a
superb cashmere shawl, that looked like a tribute
from some barbaric sovereign, fell gracefully over
her shoulders." Her bonnet was worn over a
lace cap.

r$6 THE MOST GORGEOUS

In a low and tremulous voice she greeted those
presented to her, and her eyes grew dim when she
spoke of her great son, whom she hoped " soon to
join in that better world where no tears were
shed." She added, " I thought I should have done
so long ago, but God sees what is best for us."

A faded figure, remarkable as the mother of the
greatest man the modern world had produced,
and pitiable as the survivor of his colossal wreck-
age, she walked in the noontide sun around the
garden which Roman emperors had trod, weary of
a life which had known such startling vicissitudes.
Before driving away she said " kind and flattering
things" to Lady Blessington, whom she invited to
visit her, and then kissed her forehead in farewell.

A scarcely less interesting personage whom
Lady Blessington met at this time was the Count-
ess Guiccioli, now a prominent personage in
Roman society. It has already been stated that,
whilst staying at Genoa, Lady Blessington had
never seen Madame Guiccioli, though Byron had
frequently mentioned her, and though her brother,
Count Gamba, had been frequently entertained by
the Blessingtons.

It was, however, at a fete given by the Due de
Laval Montmorenci that Lady Blessington first
met the contessa, in whom she was much inter-
ested. With regular features, a delicately fair
complexion, white teeth, beautiful red gold hair,
a finely moulded bust, and well-shaped arms, she

LADY BLESSINGTON 157

had every claim to be considered handsome ; but
there was an absence of any striking character-
istic, of any exalted beauty which might naturally
have been expected in one who had won the
ardent love o£ a man like Byron, and stranger still,
who had kept it till his death.

At this time her husband was still amongst the
living, and she was depending upon the income he
was compelled to allow her; for, contrary to all
expectation save perhaps her own, her name was
not mentioned in Byron's will. That he had at
one time intended to leave her a considerable sum,
there could be no doubt.

One day, when he called on Lady Blessington,
he stated that he had been occupied all the morn-
ing in making his will, and that he had left the
Countess Guiccioli ten thousand pounds, and
would have made it twenty-five thousand, but that
she, suspecting his intentions, had urged him not
to leave her any legacy. So fearful was she, he
said, of the possibility of having interested motives
attributed to her, that he was certain she would
prefer to suffer poverty rather than to incur such
suspicions ; this being only one of the innumerable
instances of her delicacy and disinterestedness, of
which he had repeated proofs.

Lady Blessington suggested that, if he left the
countess the sum he had originally intended, it
would be a flattering proof of his affection for
her, and that she would always have the power of

i£8 THE MOST GORGEOUS

refusing a part or the whole of the legacy if she
wished, to which he seemed to agree.

He also told his banker, Mr. Barry, that he in-
tended to leave in his hands a will, in which was a
bequest of ten thousand pounds to Madame Guic-
cioli, and when leaving for Greece the poet in-
structed the banker to advance her money. This
she would never consent to receive. When news
came of Byron's death, Barry took it for granted
that the will would be found amongst the sealed
papers left with him by the poet, but no such
document was discovered ; on which he immedi-
ately wrote to the countess, asking if she knew
anything concerning it, mentioning, at the same
time, what Byron had said regarding the legacy.

To this she replied, that he had frequently
spoken of the subject, but as it was painful to
her she had always turned the conversation and
expressed a wish that no mention of her name
would be found ; for her income was already suffi-
cient for her wants, " and the world might put a
wrong construction on her attachment, should it
appear that her fortunes were in any degree bet-
tered by it." The countess, therefore, from a
pecuniary point, in no ways benefited by Byron's
attachment.

And now came an incident in the domestic life
of the Blessingtons which was destined to have
unhappy results for those it most concerned. It
will be remembered that in April, 1823, whilst they

LADY BLESSINGTON 159

were at Genoa, news was brought to the earl that
his only legitimate son had died, on the 26th of
the previous month. The loss of his heir was
a serious grief to Lord Blessington, especially as
there seemed no probability of his being replaced,
and the idea, therefore, occurred to the peer to
make one of his daughters his heiress, and marry
her to his friend, Alfred D'Orsay.

Which of the girls was destined to become the
Countess D'Orsay he did not at first decide ; both
were at this time mere children ; the one, Emily
Rosalie Hamilton, born before her mother's mar-
riage with Lord Blessington, but known as Lady
Mary Gardiner, being then in her twelfth year ;
whilst the other, his legitimate daughter, Lady
Harriet Anne Jane Frances Gardiner, was twelve
months younger. It was not, of course, intended
that the marriage should take place for some time :
both girls were then 'living in Dublin under the
care of their paternal aunt, Lady Harriet Gardi-
ner, who resided with her brother-in-law, the
Bishop of Ossory.

Accordingly, on the 2d of June, 1823, Lord
Blessington, whilst at Genoa, made a codicil to his
will, in which he stated that, having had the mis-
fortune to lose his beloved son, "and having
entered into engagements with Alfred, Comte
D'Orsay, that an alliance should take place be-
tween him and my daughter, which engagement
has been sanctioned by Albert, Comte D'Orsay,

160 THE MOST GORGEOUS

general, etc., in the service of France, this is to
declare and publish my desire to leave to the said
Alfred D'Orsay my estates in the city and county
of Dublin . . . for his and her use, whether it be
Mary (baptised Emily) Rosalie Hamilton, or Har-
riet Anne Jane Frances, and to their heirs male,
the said Alfred, and said Mary or Harriet, for ever,
in default of issue male, to follow the provisions
of the will and testament."

Some two months later, on the 3 1 st of August,
Lord Blessington made a last will and testament
to the same effect, the choice of his daughters
being still left open to the selection of the bride-
groom, who had never seen either, and could not
but be indifferent to both.

To one of Count D'Orsay's nationality, there
was nothing contrary to custom in the fact of a
girl he had never seen being selected for and ac-
cepted by him as his wife. As was usual in such
cases, the matter had been arranged between the
fathers of the prospective bride and bridegroom,
and it merely remained for him to agree to their
wishes, — an agreement which was doubtless the
more readily given in view of the immense fortune
which was to fall to him.

That Lord Blessington had selected D'Orsay to
become his son-in-law can be explained only on
the ground of the high estimate in which he held
the count's character and abilities, and the affec-
tion which the earl entertained for him. It was

LADY BLESSINGTON 161

true that, when the codicil containing such a pro-
posal was drawn up, D'Orsay had been a member
of their party merely for a few months ; but the
four years which had elapsed between this sugges-
tion and the solemnisation of the marriage, whilst
giving Lord Blessington ample opportunity to see
more of the count, had not caused him to alter his
mind meanwhile.

Had Lady Blessington from any motive desired
to prevent this marriage, there can be little doubt
that her influence, which was supreme with her
husband, could have effected her wishes ; but the
probability was that, like the earl, she considered
that D'Orsay — a man of ahcient lineage, possess-
ing varied and brilliant talents, and remarkable for
his personal gifts— would in all ways prove a
desirable member of their family.

It was eventually decided that the earl's legiti-
mate daughter, the Lady Harriet, was to become
Count D'Orsay' s wife, and she was therefore sent
for, and arrived at Florence whilst the family were
residing there.

Lady Harriet was at this time under seven-
teen. Slight and pale, silent and reserved, she
seemed even younger than her age. She had
never known her mother, had seen but little of
her father, had no acquaintance with the world,
was unused to strangers, and gave no indication
of the self-reliance and determination she after-
ward showed. With searching, timid eyes, she

1 62 THE MOST GORGEOUS

looked at the polite foreigner to whom in future
she was to belong, she having no will to sanc-
tion or to refuse the arrangement made lor her,
no thought but to obey. On his part, Count
D'Orsay was not inspired with love by this
schoolgirl, who seemed incapable of appreciat-
ing his best turned compliments, and indifferent
to the graces which had won him high reputa-
tion in a hundred drawing-rooms.

It was originally the intention of Lord Blessing-
ton that the marriage should take place in Flor-
ence, but hindrance to this arrangement was given
by the English ambassador in that city, John, Lord
Burghersh, afterward eleventh Earl of Westmore-
land, who intimated to the French ambassador,
the Duke de Laval Montmorenci, that the cer-
emony according to the rites of the English
Church must precede that of the Catholic Church.
Moreover, on some personal remonstrance being
made by Lady Blessington, he behaved with rude-
ness to her and to her stepdaughter, — an act
which drew from Walter Savage Landor the fol-
lowing wrathful letter:

" DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON : — If I could hear of any
wrong or any rudeness offered to you, without at least as
much resentment as you yourself would feel upon it, I
should be unworthy, not only of the friendship with which
you honour me, but of one moment's thought or notice.
Lord B. told me what had occurred yesterday. I be-
lieve I may have said, on other occasions, that nothing

LADY BLESSINGTON 163

could surprise me, of folly or indecorum, in Lord Burg-
hersh. I must retract my words, — the only one she will
ever make me retract. That a man educated among the
sons of gentlemen could be guilty of such incivility to two
ladies, to say nothing of condition, nothing of person, noth-
ing of acquaintance and past courtesies, is inconceivable,
even to the most observant of his behaviour, throughout
the whole period of his public life. From what I have heard
and known during a residence of six years at Florence, I am
convinced that all the ministers of all the other courts in
Europe (I may throw in those of Asia and Africa) have
never been guilty of so many unbecoming and disgraceful
actions as this man. The only person for whom he ever
interested himself was a Count Aceto, the most notorious
gambler and profligate, who had been expelled from the
Tuscan and the Lucca States. And now his conscience
will not permit him to sanction a father's disposal of his
daughter in marriage with almost the only man who
deserves her, and certainly the very man who deserves
her most.

" I said little in reply to Lord B., only to praise his cool-
ness and forbearance. Nothing can be wiser than the res-
olution to consider in the light of diplomacy what has
happened, or* more necessary than to represent it, in all
its circumstances, to the administration at home, without
which it cannot fail to be misinterpreted here, whatever
care and anxiety the friends of your family may display,
in setting right the erroneous and malicious. I hope Count
D'Orsay sees the affair in the same point of view as I do,
and will allow his resentment to lose itself among feelings
more congenial to him. Lord B., I do assure your lady-
ship, has quite recovered his composure ; I hope that you
have, too — otherwise, the first smile on seeing him at Rome
will not sufficiently reward him for his firmness and his
judgment.

1 64 THE MOST GORGEOUS

" With every good wish in all its intensity to the happy
couple, and with one good wish of much the same nature
to Miss Power, — I remain, your ladyship's very devoted
servant"

The Blessingtons therefore left Florence, as
already stated, and arrived in Rome in Novem-
ber, 1827, en route for Naples, where, according
to the Annual Register, the marriage of Lady
Harriet Gardiner and Count Alfred D'Orsay was
celebrated by the chaplain to the British embassy.
The family then returned to Rome, from where,
four days later, the bridegroom addressed the fol-
lowing letter, concerning the arrangements, to
Landor :

"ROME, Decembre 8, 1827.

" MON CHER MR. LANDOR : — Nous avons tous 6t6
oblige d'aller a Naples pour faire le mariage Protestant,
car la premiere insinuation qu'a 1'on donna au Due de
Laval fut qu'il etoit preferable que cela cut lieu avant la
ceremonie Catholique, ainsi voila ce grand imbecille d'un
ministre confondu. Son ignorant entetement est prouve*.
Je viens de lui ecrire, pour lui dire que lors qu'on est com-
pletement ignorant des devoirs de son ministere on doit
alors en place d'ente"tement s'en rapporter a 1'opinion des
autres, et que malgre' tout Pembarras que nous avions eu
a cause de lui, d'entreprendre ce voyage, nous avions 6t6

a meme de juger de F , qui comprend tout aussi, bien

les devoirs de son ministere que la maniere de recevoir les
personnes de distinction.

«« J'espere qu'il prendra mal ma lettre, car j'aurais grand
plaisir de lui couper le bout de son bee. Je vous ecris ces
details car je sais m£me par Hare, qu'en veritable ami vous

LADY BLESSINGTON 165

avez pris chaudement notre parti ; je ne m'en dtonne pas,
car il suffit de vous connaitre, et de pouvoir vous appre'cier,
pour etre convaincu que tout ce qui n'est pas sincere n'a
rien de commun avec vous. Toute la famille vous envoye
mille amide's, nous parlons et pensons souvent de vous.
" Votre tres aff ectionne,

" D'ORSAY."

Whatever the intentions of the newly married
pair regarding their future home may have been,
for the present they lived in the Palazzo Negroni,
and from there travelled with Lord and Lady
Blessington and Miss Power through Italy, into
France, on their way to England.

Passing through various towns, they came at last
to Genoa, and here it was that a little incident
occurred which shows the thought and kindness
of Lady Blessington's disposition ; they being the
secret by which she won and held the admiration
and affection of all who knew her.

During their first stay in the city she had been
attracted by a pretty child, whose brown-faced
father mended shoes outside his door in a narrow,
high-housed passage not far from their hotel. This
child, the little Teresina, who was but two years
old, was the light of her parents' eyes, and was
dearer to them from the fact that already they had
lost two children before they had reached her age.

Bright and merry, she would dance around her
father, put a flower to his nose, crow with delight,
and hide behind the apron of her mother, who, knit-

1 66 THE MOST GORGEOUS

ting as she leaned against the door-post, watched
the sprite's movements, greedy of happiness. One
day, Lady Blessington stayed to kiss the child, by
which she won its parents' hearts for ever ; and,
after this, whenever she would pass, Teresina would
clap her hands for joy, hold out a flower for her to
smell, or offer her lips to be kissed, when the
father and mother, radiant with pride and joy,
would tell in high-pitched tones of their darling's
wonderful intelligence.

Before leaving, the countess bought some pres-
ents, amongst them a silver medal of St. Teresa,
for the child, to whom she bade good-bye; but
next morning the father and mother, with their
little one, were waiting outside the hotel to see
them off, carrying two bouquets, which they pre-
sented, their prayers for the foreigners being inter-
rupted by tears.

On returning to Genoa, the cobbler and his wife
were not in their accustomed place, and nothing
was known of them by those now occupying their
house. Anxious to see them, Lady Blessington
offered a reward to the laquais de place if he could
find them, and eventually they were discovered in
a poor quarter of the town, where she went to see
them. Nothing could equal their gratitude and
joy, which soon, however, was turned into tears.
The light of their life had gone out, and they could
not remain in the old darkened house. And for
long they spoke of the sorrow, the mother taking

LADY BLESSINGTON 167

from her neck the medal of which the child had
been so proud. Lady Blessington forced some
presents upon them, and left them with their
prayers ringing in her ears.

A more cheerful episode marked the close of
this second visit to Genoa. They had bidden
farewell to all the well-remembered spots, includ-
ing Byron's palace, and on the morning of their
departure, imperials and chaise seats were packed,
bills paid, "canvas sacks of silver given to the
courier," and letters of credit made out, when
Lady Blessington was taken to see a charming
carriage which had arrived from England, and was
similar to one she had admired when in Florence,
belonging to the English minister's wife. She
praised this highly, and was then told it was hers,
having been specially ordered and sent from Lon-
don for her journey.

" Lord Blessington," she says, " has a princely
way of bestowing gifts."

CHAPTER VIII.

H6tel Marshal Ney — The Most Gallant of All Gallant Hus-
bands — A Round of Gaiety — Mrs. Purves Marries — Letters
from Tom Moore — Lord Rosslyn's Request — Death of
Lord Blessington — Letters from Landor — Lady Blessing-
ton's Grief — First Breath of Scandal — The Age and Its
Infamous Editor — Instructions to Prosecute — Letters to
Sympathisers.

|RA YELLING slowly as was their wont,
the Blessingtons, with the Count and
Countess D'Orsay and Miss Power,
reached Paris on a hot day in June, 1828, and
took up their residence in the H6tel de Terrasse,
Rue de Rivoli. Their stay here was but tempo-
rary, one of the first things which occupied them
being the search for a suitable residence. This
after some time was found in a magnificent house
which had once belonged to Marechal Ney.

This mansion, which had been to let but three
days, was taken at an enormous rental by the
Blessingtons, who outbid all competitors. It was
situated in the Rue de Bourbon, and looked out
upon the gardens of the Tuileries and the Seine.
Approached by an avenue of trees that ended in a
court, it was enclosed from the Rue de Bourbon

168

LADY BLESSINGTON 169

by high walls, and separated from the Quai d'Orsay
by a terrace planted with flowers. From a lofty
vestibule opened suites of finely proportioned rooms
with fluted pilasters and chimneypieces of Parian
marble, their walls and ceilings still fresh with
decorations that had cost a million francs.

Furniture, suitable to this palatial residence, was
now hired for a year, on condition that, should its
purchase be desirable after that period, allowance
would be made for the hire money. Whilst the
house was being prepared, Lady Blessington
amused herself by visiting it, but was not allowed
to see her bed, dressing, or bath rooms, until
they were finished ; this suite being specially deco-
rated and furnished from designs by her husband,
who, when they were completed, took her to see
them.

Nothing could exceed the luxury of these apart-
ments. A silvered bed rested on the back of
silver swans " so exquisitely sculptured that every
feather is in alto relievo and looks nearly as fleecy
as those of the living bird." Curtains of pale blue
silk, carpets of uncut pile, silver lamps, luxurious
couches, immense mirrors, and "a rich coffer for
jewels" completed the arrangements. The bath-
room was more beautiful still, with its white marble
and its frescoed ceiling representing Flora scatter-
ing flowers with one hand, whilst from the other
was suspended an alabaster lamp in the shape of a
lotus.

170 THE MOST GORGEOUS

"The whole fitting up is in exquisite taste," she
writes, " and as usual, when my most gallant of all
gallant husbands that it ever fell to the happy lot
of woman to possess, interferes, no expense has
been spared. A queen could desire nothing better
for her own private apartments. Few queens, most
probably, ever had such tasteful ones."

On the day before they moved into their new
residence, June I4th, Lord Blessington wrote to
Landor telling him of their intended change, and
stating that Lady Blessington wished that some
whim, caprice, or other impelling power might
transport him across the Alps, and give them the
pleasure of again seeing him.

" Here we have been nearly five weeks," he tells
his correspondent, "and, unlike to Italy and its
suns, we have no remembrance of the former, but
in the rolling of the thunder ; and when we see the
latter, we espy at the same time the threatening
clouds on the horizon. To balance, or assist, such
pleasure, we have an apartment bien decort, with
Jardin de Tuileries en face, and our apartment
being at the corner, we have the double advantage
of all the row from morning till night. Diligences
and fiacres, coachmen cracking their whips, stal-
lions neighing, carts with empty wine barrels, — all
sorts of discordant music, and all kinds of cries,
songs, and the jingling of bells. But we hope
this is our last day of purgatory ; for, though the
skies are loaded with more water than one could

LADY BLESSINGTON 171

expect, after so much pouring, yet, midst thunder,
lightning, and rain, we are to strike our tents and
march."

A staff of domestics, including a groom of the
chambers, a maitre d'hotely and a cook who was
" an inimitable artist," was added to the servants
who had travelled with the family. Once settled
in their new home, the Blessingtons began to en-
tertain with their usual sumptuous hospitality. A
vast number of guests, foreign princes and prin-
cesses, dukes and duchesses, counts and count-
esses, English ambassadors and men of title, were
bidden to dinners, breakfasts, and suppers ; the
host and hostess being entertained in return. A
glittering gaiety seemed the order of the day.
Now they are in their box at the opera, witnessing
the d^but of Taglioni, who has introduced a new
style of dancing, " graceful beyond all comparison,
wonderful lightness, an absence of all violent
effort, and a modesty as new as it is delightful to
witness in her art." Again they attend a grand
review in the Champ de Mars, at which Charles X.,
the dauphin, dauphine, and the Duchesse de Berri
were present ; Lady Blessington, chaperoned by
the Duchesse de Guiche, sitting beside the Mar-
chioness de Loul£, sister to the King of Portugal,
in the front row of the grand pavilion.

All things seemed to prosper with Lady Bless-
ington ; and amongst other pleasant events came
the marriage of her sister Ellen, Mrs. Purves, to

172 THE MOST GORGEOUS

the Right Honourable John Manners Sutton,
afterward Viscount Canterbury, which was cele-
brated on the 6th of December, 1828. Mr. Man-
ners Sutton had been a widower since 1815,
whilst Mrs. Purves had been a widow since the
27th of September, 1827, her husband having died
on that date at Pensacola, where he had for four
years held the post of British consul. Amongst
the letters of congratulation which Lady Blessing-
ton received on this marriage was the following
from her friend Landor :

11 Fortune is not often too kind to me, — indeed, why
should she be ? — but when she is, it is reasonable enough I
should be grateful. We have come at last to this agree-
ment, that whenever she does anything pleasant to you, I
may take my part in the pleasure, nem. con., and as large
a part as any one except yourself and Lord B. She then
put something into the opposite scale, and said it was but
just. I laughed to hear her talk of justice, but owned it.
Now I will lay a wager that, of the hundreds of letters you
and my lord have received to congratulate you on the mar-
riage of Mrs. Purves, not one has been so long in coming
to the point. . . .

" I am waiting very anxiously to offer Miss Power better
compliments than these of the season. Why is she con-
tented with holly, when she may have myrtle ? I must not
begin to ponder and meditate, for whatever effect these
ponderings and meditations may have upon the ponderer
and meditator, the effect is likely to be very different on
those whom they befall. And I do not think your post
comes in at bedtime. I have not yet transgressed so far, that
I may not request to be presented to all your house, and to
wish you many, many years of health and happiness.'*

LADY BLESSINGTON 173

A month before this event took place, Lady
Blessington received a letter from her old friend,
Tom Moore, who was then engaged in writing his
life of Byron. Moore had heard from Lord John
Russell, that she had seen a good deal of Byron
during his last days in Italy, that she could nar-
rate many anecdotes of him, and that she pos-
sessed some verses addressed to herself by the
poet. " Now, my dear Lady Blessington," wrote
Moore, insinuatingly, "if you have anything like
the same cordial remembrances of old times that
I have — if ever the poet (or the piper) found
favour in your ears, sit down instantly and record
for me as only a woman can record, every particu-
lar of your acquaintance with Byron from first to
last. Above all, do not forget the verses, which
will be doubly precious as written by him on you."

Lady Blessington, ever anxious to help or to
please her friends, readily complied with his re-
quest, and to her is due the interesting particulars
the biographer gives of Byron's last days in Genoa.
When the book was published, however, she was
not forwarded a presentation copy, " all owing to
a mistake, or rather a difficulty in the way of busi-
ness," as Moore wrote to explain when reminded of
his want of courtesy. " It is too long a story for
a man in a hurry to relate, but you will under-
stand enough, when I tell you that the dispensa-
tion of the presentation copies was a joint concern
between Murray and me, and that, having by mis-

174 THE MOST GORGEOUS

take exceeded my number, I was unwilling to
embarrass my account by going further.

"But mind, whatever copy you may have read
me in, the one you must go to sleep upon (when
inclined for a doze) must be a portable octavo pre-
sented by myself. You deserve ten times more
than this, not only for your old friendship, but
for the use you have been to the said volumes by
the very interesting and (in the present state of
the patrimonial question) apropos contributions you
have furnished."

The year 1829 did not begin propitiously for
Lady Blessington ; her health became uncertain,
she was subject to depression. Writing to Lan-
dor in February, she begs that he will not think
her ungrateful for not answering his last letter;
"but when I tell you," she says, "that for the last
two months I have only twice attempted to use
my pen, and both times was compelled to abandon
it, you will acquit me of neglect or negligence,
neither of which, toward those whom I esteem and
value as highly as I do you, are among the cata-
logue of my faults. The change of climate, oper-
ating on a constitution none of the strongest, and
an unusually severe winter, to me, who for years
have only seen Italian ones, have brought on a
severe attack of rheumatism in the head, that has
not only precluded the possibility of writing, but
nearly of reading also."

It was a couple of months later, during which

LADY BLESSINGTON 175

she felt little better, that her husband received
from Lord Rosslyn, who acted as whip for his
party, the following letter relative to the Catholic
Emancipation Bill, which was then agitating the
United Kingdom :

" Knowing the deep interest you have always taken in
the peace and prosperity of Ireland, and the anxious zeal
with which you have upon every occasion exerted yourself
in favour of the repeal of the civil disabilities upon the
Catholics, I take the earliest opportunity of apprising you
of the present situation of that question.

"It has become of the utmost consequence to obtain the
best attendance of the friends of civil and religious liberty,
in order to give all possible support to the measure pro-
posed by the Duke of Wellington.

" I am persuaded that you will feel with me that the
present is a crisis that calls for every possible exertion and
sacrifice from those who have as strong feelings and as
deep a stake in the peace and prosperity of Ireland as you
have ; and you cannot fail to be aware that the object of
the Orange and Brunswick Clubs in both countries is to de-
feat the saltuary measures proposed by the Duke of Well-
ington, and consequently to endanger the security of all
property in Ireland and the peace of the empire.

" If you see this subject in the same light that I do, you
will not hesitate to come over to take your seat; and I
should venture to suggest to your lordship, if that should
be your determination, that you should come before the
second reading of the bill, and remain till after the com-
mittee ; and if you will do me the honour to signify your
commands to me, I will take care to give you timely notice
of the day on which it may be necessary for you to be in
the House of Lords for the purpose of taking the oaths,
and will take charge of seeing that your writ is ready."

176 THE MOST GORGEOUS

Though Lord Blessington was not quite well at
this time, and though the journey from the French
to the English capital was tedious and uncomfort-
able, he resolved to cross the Channel and be in
his place in the House of Peers when the bill
came up for discussion ; for my lord was a liberal
man in his ideas, and had ever been a lover of his
country. Lady Blessington writes that he never
considered himself, when a duty was to be per-
formed. She adds, " I wish the question was car-
ried and he safely back again. What would our
political friends say, if they knew how strongly I
urged him not to go, but to send his proxy to
Lord Rosslyn ? "

His journey seemed to have no ill results, for
when in London he appeared in excellent spirits
and good health. He voted for the Catholic
Emancipation Bill, which was passed by a majority
of one hundred and five ; saw many of his friends,
and entertained them in St. James's Square ;
dined with Lord Rosslyn ; and, at the request of
the Duke of Clarence, presided at the Co vent
Garden theatrical fund dinner. He then set out
again for France, where he was joyously welcomed
by his wife, his daughter, and his son-in-law.
Always lavishly generous to the woman he loved,
he came back to her laden with presents. " Some
of them," she writes, "are quite beautiful, and
would excite the envy of half my sex."

Lord Blessington had been generally careful of

LADY BLESSINGTON 177

his health, but for years had suffered from gout,
was susceptible to cold, and had a horror of
draughts. D'Orsay used laughingly to tell the
earl he could detect a current of air caused by
the key being left crossways in the keyhole of a
door.

Charles Mathews tells an anecdote of being
with him and Lady Blessington when they went
on an exploring expedition to Baiae, where was an
old Roman villa whose foundations extended out
into the bay, whilst portions of its walls rose
about two or three feet above the water.

On these young Mathews skipped about at his
pleasure, when, to his surprise, Lord Blessington
called out, " Take care, take care, for heaven's sake
mind what you are about : you'll be in the water
to a certainty."

Mathews took no heed, on which the warning
was repeated, greatly to his surprise, for my lord
had little fear of danger for himself or others,
when Lady Blessington begged he would let the
boy alone. "If he does fall into the water, what
can it matter ? " she asked. " You know he swims
like a fish."

"Yes, yes," answered the earl, "that's all very
well, but I shall catch my death driving home in
the carriage with him."

At the time when danger was nearest to him, it
was least feared. Paris was looking at its best
and brightest one day soon after his return from

178 THE MOST GORGEOUS

London, the purity of spring and the promise of
summer in the air, the sky clear for the sun, and
the city gay with colour, all on this May day
which was to be the last but one for this most
devoted of husbands, this generous-hearted, open-
handed, pleasure-loving man ; than whom, as
Walter Savage Landor wrote, "none was ever
dearer or more delightful to his friends."

It was on a Saturday, the 23d of the month,
that soon after the mid-day meal he complained of
not feeling well, when he drank a few spoonfuls
of Eau de Melisse in water. An hour or so later,
feeling much better, he ordered his horse, and, fol-
lowed by his servant, rode out of the courtyard of
his house, a gallant, upright figure, his sunny,
high-coloured face turned toward the window from
which his wife watched him, he waving his hand
in response to her smiles.

A little later, and he was carried home insen-
sible, from an attack of apoplexy. Doctors were
hastily summoned, and all that love could do was
done ; the knowledge of its helplessness being in
such cases love's bitterest grief. From the first
he remained speechless and insensible, his wife
distracted and fearful beside him, servants coming
and going, his daughter and her husband seldom
absent from the room over which the sombreness
of death seemed already to have settled. All
through Sunday, a day of sunshine and joyousness
without, of grief and terror within, his condition

LADY BLESSINGTON 179

remained unchanged : but on Monday morning, at
half-past four, the stertorous breathing ceased, and
those around were forced to recognise that he was
gone. In this way did Charles James, first Earl
of Blessington, die in the forty-sixth year of his
age.

" Nothing can equal the grief of poor Lady
Blessington," writes her sister to Landor. "In
fact, she is so ill that we are quite uneasy about
her, and so is also poor Lady Harriet. But not
only ourselves but all our friends are in the great-
est affliction since this melancholy event. Fancy
what a dreadful blow it is to us all to lose him, —
he who was so kind, so generous, so truly good a
man."

By this unforeseen event his wife was deprived
of the man who had raised her from dependence
and obscurity to rank and fortune, whose will was
hers, whose life was devoted to her. In every
way her loss was irreparable, and she mourned
him bitterly. Their many friends wrote messages
of sympathy, which, at such a time, had little
power to touch the wound with healing. Amongst
all she received, those written by Landor appealed
to her most. In a letter dated the 6th of June,
he writes to her :

"If I defer it any longer, I know not how or when I
shall be able to fulfil so melancholy a duty. The whole of
this day I have spent in that stupid depression which some
may feel without a great calamity, and which others can

i8o THE MOST GORGEOUS

never feel at all. Every one that knows me knows the sen-
timents I bore toward that disinterested and upright and
kind-hearted man, than whom none was ever dearer or more
delightful to his friends. If to be condoled with by many,
if to be esteemed and beloved by all whom you have ad-
mitted to your society, is any comfort, that comfort at
least is yours. I know how inadequate it must be at such
a moment, but I know, too, that the sentiment will survive
when the bitterness of sorrow shall have passed away.

" You know how many have had reason to speak of you
with gratitude, and all speak in admiration of your gen-
erous and gentle heart, incapable as they are of estimating
the elevation of your mind.

" Among the last letters I received, was one from Mrs.
Dashwood, whose sister married poor Reginald Heber, the
late Bishop of Calcutta. She is a cousin of Hare's, and
has heard Augustus speak of you as I have often written.
Her words are (if she speaks of faults, remember you are
both women), ' I wish I was intimate with her, for, what-
ever may be her faults, so many virtues can be told of
few.'

" These are the expressions of a woman who has seen
and lived amongst whatever is best and most brilliant, and
whose judgment is as sound as her heart, and does she not
speak of introduction merely, but of intimacy ; it is neither
her curiosity nor her pride that seeks the gratification.

" I fear that the recovery of your health may yet be
retarded, about which I have often thought of writing to
Count D'Orsay, for nothing is more inconsiderate than
to oppress, with a weight of letters, one whom you know
to suffer, and to be more than enough fatigued already.
May he and his countess endeavour to promote your
happiness as anxiously as you have promoted theirs !

" Believe me, dear Lady Blessington, your very faithful
and devoted servV

LADY BLESSINGTON 181

And the following month he writes to her on
the same subject :

" DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON : — Too well was I aware
how great my pain must be in reading your letter. So
many hopes are torn away from us by this unexpected and
most cruel blow. I cannot part with the one of which the
greatness and the justness of your grief almost deprives me,
— that you will recover your health and spirits. If they
could return at once, or very soon, you would be unworthy
of that love which the kindest and best of human beings
lavished on you. Longer life was not necessary for him to
estimate your affection for him, and those graces of soul
which your beauty, in its brightest day, but faintly shad-
owed. He told me that you were requisite to his happi-
ness, and that he could not live without you. Suppose,
then, he had survived you, — his departure, in that case,
could not have been so easy as it was, so unconscious of
pain — of giving it, or leaving it behind. I would most
wish such a temper and soul as his, and next to them such
a dissolution. Tho' my hand and my whole body shakes
as I am writing it, yet I am writing the truth. Its sudden-
ness— the thing most desirable — is the thing that most
shocks us. I am comforted at the reflection that so gentle
a heart received no affliction from the anguish and despair
of those he loved. You have often brought me over to
your opinion, after an obstinate rather than a powerful
contest; let me, now I am more in the right, bring you
over by degrees to mine, and, believe me, dear Lady
Blessington, your ever devoted servant."

The earl's death had been so sudden, so unfore-
seen, that its shock and pain were the more terrible
to one who owed him an inestimable debt of love
and gratitude, which it had been her highest hap-

182 THE MOST GORGEOUS

piness to repay. Since her marriage her life had
been so full of pleasure that this quick succeeding
grief was intolerable. The world seemed com-
pletely changed for her. And as, in all sensitive
natures, the strength of the body depends on the
condition of the mind, her health gave way, and
caused much anxiety to those around.

The state of her feelings will be best understood
when the following letter, written two months after
her loss, to Mrs. Charles Mathews, is read.

" I thank you for your kind letter," she begins,
" and feel deeply sensible of the sympathy of you
and your excellent family, under the cruel and
heavy blow that has fallen on me, in the loss of
the best of husbands and of men ; these are not
mere words, of course, as all who knew him will
bear witness, for never did so kind or gentle a
heart inhabit a human form ; and I feel this dread-
ful blow with even more bitterness, because it
appears to me that, while I possessed the ines-
timable blessing I have lost, I was not to the full
extent sensible of its value ; while now all his
many virtues and good qualities rise up every
moment in memory, and I would give worlds to
pass over again the years that can never return.

" Had I been prepared for this dreadful event
by any previous illness, I might perhaps have
borne up against it ; but falling on me like some
dreadful storm, it has for ever struck at the root of
my peace of mind, and rendered all the future a

LADY BLESSINGTON 183

blank. It is not whilst those to whom we are
attached are around us, in the enjoyment of health
and the prospect of a long life, that we can judge
of the extent of our feelings toward them, or how
necessary they are to our existence. We are, God
help us, too apt to underrate the good we have,
and to see the little defects, to which even the
most faultless are subject ; while their good quali-
ties are not remembered as they ought to be, until
some cruel blow like that which has blighted me
draws the veil from our eyes, and every virtue,
every proof of affection, are remembered with
anguish, while every defect is forgotten.

" What renders my feelings still more bitter is
that, during the last few years, my health has been
so bad, and violent attacks in my head so frequent,
that I allowed my mind to be too much engrossed
by my own selfish feelings, and an idea of my poor
dear and ever to be lamented husband being
snatched away from me never could have been
contemplated.

" Alas ! he who was in perfect health, and whose
life was so precious and so valuable to so many,
is in one fatal day torn from me for ever, while I,
who believed my days numbered, am left to drag
on a life I now feel a burden.

"Excuse my writing to you in this strain. I
would not appear unkind or ungrateful in not
answering your letters, and my feelings are too
bitter to prevent my writing in any other."

1 84 THE MOST GORGEOUS

In a letter penned more than five years after
her husband's death, a date which it may be well
to bear in mind, she gives expression to her feel-
ings regarding him, in a letter addressed to Lan-
dor. In this, bearing date July, 1834, she says :

" I have often wished that you would note down for
me your reminiscences of your friendship and the conver-
sations it led to with my dear and ever to be lamented hus-
band, — he who so valued and loved you, and was so little
understood by the common herd of mankind. We, who
knew the nobleness, the generosity, and the refined delicacy
of his nature, can render justice to his memory, and I wish
that posterity, through your means, should know him as he
was. All that I could say would be viewed as the partiality
of a wife, but a friend, and such a friend as you, might
convey a true sketch of him."

And now began a time of change and trouble
for one whose ways had previously been made
smooth by every means that luxury and love
could suggest. For in the first place, through the
death of her lord, her circumstances underwent a
change, as indeed they must have done had he
lived, owing to his vast expenditure, his disregard
for money, his neglect of his property, which had
become heavily encumbered. According to his
last will and testament, he left her two thousand
a year, inclusive of one thousand pounds settled
on her at the time of his marriage ; " with all her
own jewels, requesting that she may divide my
late wife's jewels between my two daughters, at

LADY BLESSINGTON 185

the time of her decease ; " all his carriages, para-
phernalia and plate ; and the lease of the house in
St. James's Square, at the expiration of which the
furniture, books, etc., were to be moved to his
residence at Mount joy Forest. It may also be
mentioned here, that he left a thousand pounds
each to Robert and to Mary Anne Power.

To one living in the splendour to which she had
been accustomed for the past ten years, an annuity
of two thousand a year seemed small. But this
was not all. Within four months of her husband's
death, at a time that she was suffering mentally
and physically, and before Count D'Orsay was
separated from his wife, the report of a scandal
was heard, which connected his name with Lady
Blessington, — a scandal which first found voice in
a scurrilous London newspaper called the Age.

This was a paper which in no ways relied for
its circulation on the intelligence of the day, but
rather on its slanderous attacks on individuals. It
was started in 1828, and had for its first editor
one Richards, who soon gave place to the noto-
rious Westmacott. Tory in its politics, it espe-
cially assailed the characters of those who differed
from its political opinions. It was not, however,
public men alone, but private individuals, women as
well as men, generally those of high social standing,
against whom it made the gravest charges.

This paper was rivalled, but not equalled in vile-
ness, by the Satiristy whose province it was to de-

i86 THE MOST GORGEOUS

fame all connected with the Tory party ; so that
between those pests, no man or woman was safe.
Calumnies were their stock in trade ; to traduce
was their delight.

It is humilating to human nature to have to
relate that these journals were largely indebted for
the foul reports they published to individuals —
chiefly women — who from motives of personal
malice desired to ruin those they traduced, and to
whom they openly professed friendship, as was
proved. There was one means, however, of escape,
and that was by paying the heavy demands of the
blackmailer ; for the editors of these villainous
papers were in the habit of writing to their in-
tended victims, telling them that certain grave
charges had been made against them, and intimat-
ing that they were aware of facts more grievous
still, particulars of which were for the present
withheld, but all of which would be published if,
within a certain date, a specified sum was not
forthcoming. If this were paid, they need have
no uneasiness ; the unpleasant matter referred to
would never see the light.

From the fact that many innocent but pusil-
lanimous persons paid the money demanded rather
than have their reputations blasted, as well as
from the second fact that these papers, small in
size and published at sevenpence a number, had
each a circulation of about nine thousand copies a
week, it will be seen that the proprietors pros-

LADY BLESSINGTON 187

pered, their respective incomes reaching about
six thousand a year.

Though some of the maligned were pleased to suf-
fer in silence, in the hope of being able to live down
the scandals circulated about them in these papers,
there were others more courageous who sought
justice in the law courts, or satisfaction by personal
punishment of the editors. Actions for libel were
therefore continually taken, and heavy damages
awarded to the injured ; but the publicity which
the journals received at such times but served as
advertisements which increased their circulation ;
so that the charges for advertisements were raised.

Lord Alfred Paget was, to his credit, one of the
courageous sufferers who sought redress from the
law. He had been charged by the Age with striv-
ing to extort money from Lord Cardigan by accus-
ing him of improper intercourse with Lady Alfred.
The plaintiff swore that the conductors of the Age
had already threatened that, if he did not remit
them a certain sum, they would publish private
facts in their possession regarding the Paget family,
a sum which he had paid.

Those who sought to punish the editors were
not in general so successful as those who appealed
to the law ; for it was the practice of these papers
to have in their employ an individual of Herculean
proportions, generally a Hibernian of the brutal
type, who, on the editor being inquired for, stepped
forward, bludgeon in hand, and, declaring himself to

1 58 THE MOST GORGEOUS

be that individual, demanded, with a grim smile,
what his visitor might be pleased to want. That
such a condition of tyranny, "the greatest under
the sun," as the lord chief justice who tried one of
the libel cases stated, was suffered for years, seems
extraordinary ; but it is more wonderful still that
the chief offender, Westmacott, was received by a
company of decent men.

Such, however, was the case ; for James Grant
says that, soon after coming to London, he dined
at Willis's Rooms on a public occasion, when, to
his surprise, he found the editor and proprietor of
the Age amongst the company, and learned that
his name had previously figured in the list of
stewards, most of whom were dukes, marquises,
and earls, chiefly belonging to the Tory party.
"And at the dinner," he says, "no man played a
more prominent part than he. Was it not lamen-
table to see all the principles alike of honour and
morality sacrificed, as was the case in this instance,
to the exigencies of party ? "

This was the editor in whose paper appeared
the insinuations against Lady Blessington's reputa-
tion,— insinuations which were repeated by the
thoughtless and malicious, from the effects of which
she was never able to rid herself.

As may be surmised, this filth was flung at her
from behind the shelter of an anonymous name.
In a letter dated Paris, 24th of September, 1829,
and signed " Otiosus," the writer, after mentioning

LADY BLESSINGTON 189

various people, women as well as men, in a flippant,
impertinent, or injurious way, goes on to say, " Al-
fred D'Orsay, with his pretty pink and white face,
drives about d la Petersham with a cocked-up hat
and a long-tailed cream-coloured horse. He says
he will have seventeen thousand a year to spend,
others say seventeen hundred ; he and my lady go
on as usual."

In a second letter, dated October 5th, the same
writer ventures still further in his scandalous in-
sinuations. "What a manage is that of Lady
Blessington," he says. " It would create strange
sensations were it not for one fair flower that still
blooms under the shade of the upas. Can it be
conceived in England that Mr. Alfred D'Orsay has
publicly detailed to what degree he carries his
apathy for his pretty, interesting wife ? This
young gentleman, Lady Blessington, and the
virgin wife of sweet sixteen, all live together."

Shocked and grieved by such insinuations, Lady
Blessington wrote to Mr. Powell, the solicitor and
friend of her late husband, instructing him to take
proceedings against the paper. Probably he did
not consider that the letters, containing subtle
insinuations rather than definite charges, were
actionable ; at all events, in the following Decem-
ber Lady Blessington writes to a friend complain-
ing that nothing, as yet, has been done, " either in
discovering the author of the scandalous attacks
against me, or in preventing a renewal of them."

190 THE MOST GORGEOUS

Later, she heard that an acquaintance of theirs,

a certain Colonel C , was the writer of the

scandal, and when next she saw him she charged
him with the offence, as will be seen by the follow-
ing letter, written to Mrs. Charles Mathews :

" All that has occurred on the subject of the attacks in
the Age, I shall now lay before you. I wrote to Mr. Powell
urging him to commence a prosecution against the editor,
and stated to him that Lord Stuart de Rothsay had advised
me to do so, as the only means of putting a stop to these
attacks. Mr. Powell was of a different opinion, and advised
our treating the attack with contempt; and so the affair
ended.

" When Colonel C returned to Paris in February

and came to see me, I told him of my information as to his
being the author of the attacks; but this I did without ever
even hinting at my informant. He declared his innocence
in the most positive terms, gave his word of honour that he
had never written a line in his life of scandal for any
paper, and never could lend himself to so base and vile a
proceeding. His manner of denial was most convincing,
and so it ended.

" Two months ago Captain G of the Guards, who

had been very severely attacked in the Age, went to Lon-
don and took a friend with him to the editor of the Age,
who even gave him a small piece of the letter sent from

Paris, which Captain G sent Comte D'Orsay, and

which is a totally different writing from Colonel C 's ;

and so here ended the business, as it was useless to do any-
thing more except commence a prosecution, which I still
think ought to have been done.

" Mr. Powell has never given either Comte D'Orsay, or
myself, the least information since last January on this sub-
ject ; and now you know all that I do on this point. I have

LADY BLESSINGTON 191

never seen a single number of the Age, do not know a
single person who takes it in, and never hear it named, so
that I am in total ignorance as to the attacks it contains."

This scandalous report seems to have had little
effect upon her friends, for not only did the dis-
tinguished foreigners with whom she was already
intimate continue to gather around her, but English
acquaintances, passing through or visiting Paris,
made certain to call upon her, amongst them,
such men as Lord John Russell, Samuel Rogers,
the Duke of Hamilton, Lords Palmerston, Castle-
reagh, Pembroke, and Cadogan, who delighted to
converse with her.

Moreover, her stepdaughter, known as Lady
Mary, visited and remained with her three weeks,
the girl feeling the charm of her personality which
all who approached Lady Blessington were quick
to acknowledge. " She is all that is most per-
fect," the latter writes of her stepdaughter, "her
dear father's kind, noble, and generous heart, with
a manner the most captivating. I adore her,
and I believe she loves me as few girls can love
a mother."

She now became occupied with business matters
in connection with her husband's property, which
was in some confusion, and the inconvenience of
remaining in Paris became evident. Still, she was
reluctant to leave the French capital, and in a
letter to Mrs. Charles Mathews, dated October,
1829, she expresses her dislike of returning to

192 THE MOST GORGEOUS

England, and declares that business alone could
persuade her to settle in London ; "for death," she
adds, "has deprived me of the friend who could
have rendered my visit there as happy and pros-
perous as all my days were when he lived. The
contrast between the past and the present would
and will be most poignant, but should our affairs
require it, I shall certainly go."

And two months later she says she is still ill
in mind and body, and unequal to the exertion of
writing. "Indeed my health suffers so much
that I fear I shall be obliged to give up residing
at Paris, and be compelled to try the effects of
English air ; and this will be very painful to me,
after having gone to so much expense and trouble
jn arranging my rooms here, where I am so com-
fortably lodged, besides which a residence in Eng-
land, under my present circumstances, would be
so different to all that I have been accustomed to,
that I cannot contemplate it without pain. But
after all, without health there is no enjoyment, of
even the quiet and sober nature which I seek, — a
cheerful fireside with a friend or two to enliven it,
or what is still, perhaps, more easily had, a good
book. I have never had a day's health since I
have been in France ; and though I do all that
I am advised, I get worse rather than better."

Toward the end of this year her spirits seem to
have fallen to a low ebb, and she evidently suffered
keenly from depression.

LADY BLESSINGTON S* 193

Writing to a friend from Paris, November 30,
1829, she says, mournfully enough, that her corre-
spondent is one of the few who do not quite forget
her ; that she has experienced much ingratitude
and unkindness, which, added to the heavy blow
that had fallen on her, made her dread lest she
should become a misanthrope, and her heart shut
itself against the world.

" If you knew," she adds, " the bitter feelings
the treatment I have met with has excited in my
breast, you would not wonder that it has frozen
the genial current of life, and that I look as I am,
more of another world than this. Had God spared
me my ever dear and lamented husband, I could
have borne up against the unkindness and ingrati-
tude of friends estranged ; but as it is, the blow
has been too heavy for me, and I look in vain on
every side for consolation.

" I am wrong, my dearest, in writing to you in
this gloomy mood, but if I waited until I became
more cheerful, God alone knows when your letter
would be answered. You are young and life is
all before you ; take example by me and conquer,
while yet you may, tenderness of heart and sus-
ceptibility of feeling, which only tend to make the
person who possesses them wretched ; for be as-
sured you will meet but few capable of under-
standing or appreciating such feelings, and you
will become the dupe of the cold and heartless,
who contemn what they cannot understand, and

194 THE MOST GORGEOUS

repay with ingratitude the affection lavished on
them.

" I would not thus advise you, if I did not know
that you had genius ; and who ever had that fatal
gift without its attendant malady, susceptibility
and deep feeling, which, in spite of all mental
endowments, render their possessor dependent on
others for their happiness ? For it may appear a
paradox, but it is nevertheless true, those who are
most endowed can the least suffice for their own
happiness."

For months she hesitated about leaving Paris.
In May, 1830, she writes that she can name no
definite period for her return to England ; " pecu-
niary affairs prevent me at present, though I am
anxious to go, in the hope that change of air may
do me good, my health and spirits being very, very
poorly. This month, as your heart may tell you,
is a great trial to me ; it has renewed my grief with
a vividness that you can understand ; for it is dread-
ful to see all nature blooming around, and to think
that the last time I welcomed the approach of spring
I was as happy as heart could wish, blessed with
the best and most delicate of friends, while now
all around me wears the same aspect, and all within
my heart is blighted for ever."

It was not until November, 1830, that she left
Paris. When the day came for her to bid farewell
to her friends, she quite broke down, foreseeing
that she would never meet many of them again.

LADY BLESSINGTON 195

" Adieu, Paris," she writes in her diary. " Two
years and a half ago I entered you with gladness,
and the future looked bright ; I leave you with
altered feelings, for the present is cheerless and
the future clouded. "

CHAPTER IX.

In St. James's Square — Removal to Seamore Place — Splen-
dour of Lady Blessington's Home — Distinguished Guests —
D'Orsay the Leader of Dandies — Courted by All — His
Neglected Wife — Separation — Lady Harriet's Friendship
with Royalty — Scandal — A Brave Show — Lady Blessing-
ton's Letters.

November, 1830, Lady Blessington,
with her sister, Miss Power, and the
Count and Countess D'Orsay, returned
to London and took up their residence in St.
James's Square. Their stay here, however, was
not for long. It will be remembered that, accord-
ing to the late earl's will, his wife was left this
residence until its lease expired, when its furniture
and belongings were to be removed to Mount] oy
Forest. To maintain so large an establishment
was an expense which Lady Blessington, with
her dowry of merely two thousand a year, could
not afford ; and as she had brought with her
from abroad a quantity of beautiful cabinets,
tables, and other furniture, together with carpets,
pictures, china, ornaments, and various objects of
art, she resolved to sell her interest in the re-
maining years of the lease, and rent a smaller

196

LADY BLESSINGTON 197

house, for which she already had almost sufficient
furniture.

Though she sanctioned and enjoyed the lavish
expenditure in which her husband's princely in-
come allowed him to indulge, from this time
forward, without depriving herself of the splen-
dour which had become necessary to her enjoy-
ment, she became an excellent manager, who
systematically kept her accounts and sought to
control her outlay. Her first movement now was
to let the St. James's Square mansion, which
was rented furnished by the Windham Club for
^1,350 pounds per annum ; but as the head rent
was .£840 a year, this did not add much to her
income, especially as she was being continually
worried by claims for repairs of the house, which
was much dilapidated. She therefore eventually
sold her interest in it to the executors of Lord
Blessington's will.

From St. James's Square, she moved to a house
in Seamore Place, which, decorated from designs
by D'Orsay, and furnished according to her taste,
became, as Disraeli said, "the most charming of
modern houses." Its library was long and nar-
row, with deep windows looking out upon Hyde
Park, its walls of white and gold were well-nigh
covered with handsomely bound volumes, above
whose cases stood royal blue vases that had once
belonged to Marie Antoinette, and porcelain bowls
on whose purple surface glittered the Imperial

198 THE MOST GORGEOUS

cipher. Etruscan tripods stood in its corners ;
in its recessess were desks of red tortoise-shell
boule work. The drawing-room, with its deep,
rich tones of ruby and gold, was not less splendid.
Here were turquoise and Sevres-topped tables,
old boule-winged cabinets, antique jugs of flaw-
less amber that had belonged to Josephine, Indian
jars, porcelain essence burners, candelabra of jas-
per and filigree gold, and a thousand other objects
that dazzled and delighted the sight.

Jekyll, writing to a friend, described the house
as " a bijou, or, as Sir W. Curtis's lady said, a per-
fect bougie." Little wonder that Sir William Cell,
writing from Naples, says that Keppel Craven
tells him her house "is so exquisite in all respects
that he thinks it impossible anything can ever
tempt you to move again."

Altogether, Lady Blessington made her home
a stately and beautiful place, worthy of the bright
company that was to gather there, and become
associated with her name for ever. For no sooner
had she settled in London, than the friends who
had been introduced to her by her husband, as
well as many of those she had met abroad, mind-
ful of the charm of her personality, grateful for
the kindness she had extended to them, hastened
to pay her their court, all of them anxious again
to expand their minds in the atmosphere of one
so sympathetic and gracious, so graceful and
beautiful.

LADY BLESSINGTON 199

The noblest men in the land, ministers, ambas-
sadors, and politicians ; great artists, such as Sir
Edwin Landseer, Sir Michael Archer Shee, David
Wtlkie, Sir Francis Grant, Maclise, and Mulready ;
famous poets, such as Moore, Rogers, and Camp-
bell ; Indian princes ; generals and diplomatists ;
men of various callings and diverse minds, — all
found in her the interest each required in his
pursuit, the advice that some requested, the
encouragement which others needed ; her exqui-
site tact guiding her to the knowledge of in-
dividual temperament, and prompting the words
appropriate to each man's mood ; the natural
kindness of her heart and fascination of her per-
sonality binding all to her service, free slaves of
a woman they loved.

Never was she seen to such supreme advantage,
never were the charms of her personality more
persuasive than when seated at the head of her
dinner-table surrounded by a brilliant company
of friends. Here, resplendent and picturesque,
enthroned in a state-chair glowing in crimson
and gold, which had been ordered by George IV.
for the reception of Louis XVIII., she presided
over a feast worthy of her guests and of herself.

Always sumptuous in her apparel, the rich-hued
velvets and sun-gleaming satins she wore lost in
smoothness by contrast with the softness of her
rounded throat, the delicate curving breasts, her
shoulders, and beautifully shaped arms, with every

200 THE MOST GORGEOUS

elegant movement of which her jewels shone as
with the splendour of starlight. The wide, calm
forehead was yet without a line, the exquisite
mouth was as mobile and tender as before. The
gray-blue eyes, whose wistfulness was visible in
their depths, whose colour deepened to violet in
the shadow of their lids, lighted a face not the
"less fascinating now it no longer retained the vio-
lent freshness of youth ; for time had taught, and
sorrow had softened, and each in turn had added
its tribute to an expression that, more than the
shape of feature or the outline of face, was found
the chief est of her charms.

The soothing light of candles fell upon a table
set with a service of chased silver and old gold, and
beautified — after a fashion Lady Blessington was
first to introduce — with the luxuriant colour of
mellow fruits and odorous flowers, in dishes and
bowls of sea-green Sevres and purple porcelain.
The rich amber or deep ruby of rare and fra-
grant wines caught the light of taper flames, whose
reflections in the goblet-shaped glasses gleamed
as might sacred lamps on the altar of Epicurus.
Servants in powder, wearing magnificent liveries
of green and gold, walked silent-footed, as if they
trod on air, serving ready-carved — a mode new to
England — the pompous procession of dishes whose
insinuating flavour wooed the most reluctant appe-
tite. And all around, serving as a frame to so
fair a picture, was the superb octagonal-shaped

LADY BLESSINGTON 201

room, in which were empanelled mirrors that dupli-
cated the lights, until they looked innumerable.
Those bidden to the enjoyment of such perfect
pleasures were men whose talents and achieve-
ments were their passports to the presence of
their gracious hostess. In such company as hers,
amidst such scenes as this, the heart kept holiday,
the mind was brightest. And so the wittiest sally
of Jekyll, the cleverest stories of Lyndhurst and
Brougham, the best of Moore's bons mots, the
worthiest epigram of Rogers, Lord Wellesley's
daintiest compliment, were reserved for her ears.
Indeed, at her table, as Jekyll wrote, " there was
wit, fun, epigram, and raillery enough to supply
fifty county members for a twelvemonth."

In all cases, the conversation around her board,
or in her salon, was directed rather than led by
her ; who, though a delightful talker and a racon-
teuse without equal, preferred to listen to those
who could charm and amuse, and was ever anx-
ious to draw from each his views on the talent
which distinguished him most ; so that she made
all men appear at their best to themselves and
to others.

At this date, her circle was not enriched by the
host of editors, authors, and journalists which it
was soon to number, when she joined their ranks.
Nor in England, were women, her own relatives and
a few intimates excepted, found at her tables ; for
in this country the circumstances which preceded

202 THE MOST GORGEOUS

her second marriage were considered to place an
insurmountable obstacle to social intercourse with
her own sex, — a prejudice that was not lessened
by the scandalous insinuations of a scurrilous jour-
nal and by an event which soon happened in her
domestic circle.

It may, however, be mentioned here, that many
of her most intimate friends have stated that none
of those who knew her thoroughly believed her
guilty of the charges of intimacy with Count
D'Orsay made against her by the world at large,
which remained ignorant of her real character and
of the force of circumstances by which she was
beset.

She was not, however, wholly ostracised by her
own sex, for by some by-law of convention, diffi-
cult to understand, many women, chiefly belonging
to the literary calling, visited her by day, but rig-
orously excluded themselves from her salon at
night. On her part, Lady Blessington made it a
rule never to accept invitations, even when com-
ing from those who called upon her ; a sense
of dignity counselling her to avoid accidental
meeting with those who, doubting her position,
might wound her susceptibilities.

Therefore, on nights when she did not visit the
theatre or the opera house, she received at home,
from eight till twelve, when she enjoyed the conver-
sation of the most intellectual men of the day, who
not infrequently gave her their confidence and

LADY BLESSINGTON 203

sought her advice ; in this manner probably com-
pensating for her exclusion from the gossip, scan-
dal, and frivolity indulged in by those of her sex,
whose virtue debarred them from her presence.
Next to herself, the member of her household
on whom the inquisitive eyes of the world were
most watchfully turned, who with her occupied
the chief place in the gossip of society, was Count
D'Orsay. On his return to London, he was in his
thirtieth year, a tall, distinguished-looking man,
with a remarkably graceful figure, clearly cut
features, auburn hair, and hazel eyes. His man-
ners had the charm and courtesy associated with
the courts of France in olden days ; his conver-
sation was brilliant in its polished vivacity ; his
talents were various, and his good nature was
apparent to all. Mrs. Newton Crosland, whom he
once took in to dinner, remarked that his hands,
large, white, and apparently soft, "had not the
physiognomy which pleases the critical observer
and student of hands," for they indicated self-in-
dulgence. She was indeed one of the few who
did not admire him ; for he struck her observant
eyes as being "mannish rather than manly, and
yet with a touch of effeminacy, quite different
from that womanlike tenderness which adds to
the excellence of man." The many who liked
him included Byron, Lamartine, and Landor ; and
later, amongst his warmest friends were Charles
Dickens, Captain Marryat, Disraeli, and Bulwer,

204 THE MOST GORGEOUS

the two last-mentioned authors dedicating each
a book to him ; whilst John Forster declared the
count's "pleasantry, wit, and kindliness gave him
a wonderful fascination," an attestation borne out
by Albany Fonblanque, who said "the unique
characteristic of D'Orsay is, that the most bril-
liant wit is uniformly exercised in the most good-
natured way. He can be wittier with kindness
than the rest of the world with malice."

Born without a sense of the proportion or value
of money, he squandered in reckless extravagance
whatever sums came in his way. His wardrobe
was inexhaustible, his horses were thoroughbreds,
his brougham a work of art, the appointments of
his toilet of massive silver and old gold.

Above all things, he delighted in emphasising
his noble air and distinguished figure by a pecu-
liarity of dress and an exaggeration of fashion
which, in a man of less remarkable appearance,
might be considered foppery or affectation. Among
other extravagant fancies, he suited the shape of
his hat to the cut of his coat, — donning a hat of
smaller dimensions when wearing a thin coat, and
of larger size when he wore a thick overcoat, or
his famous sealskin, which he was the first to
introduce to England. In summer he was seen
in all the glory of a white coat, blue satin cravat,
primrose gloves, scented with eau de jasmine, and
patent leather boots, whose lustre was only second
to the sun.

LADY BLESSINGTON 205

The leader of the dandies, they copied the cut of
his garments, the style of his cravats, the fashion
of his canes ; whilst bootmakers, tailors, and glov-
ers dubbed their wares with his name, as a means
of ensuring their sale. But though he occupied
the unenviable position of a leader of fashion, his
talents preserved him from being despised as a
fop by his intellectual friends, who, however, some-
times good-naturedly bantered him on his splen-
dour. Walter Savage Landor, who was anxious
that D'Orsay " should put his pen in motion,"
wrote to Lady Blessington that he had grown as
rich as Rothschild, "and if Count D'Orsay could
see me in my new coat, he would not invite me so
pressingly to come to London. It would brew ill
blood between us, — half plague, half cholera. He
would say, * I wish that fellow had his red forehead
again, the deuce might powder it for him.' How-
ever, as I go out very little, I shall not divide the
world with him."

Never, perhaps, had a man created such a sen-
sation in society as Count D'Orsay. Whether
he were guilty or not of the charges which
scandal then or afterward insinuated, was im-
material to those who sought him, save that
it lent him a certain piquant interest in the
eyes of women who kept apart from Lady Bless-
ington, because of her suspected share in his sin ;
for the noblest hostesses in London gladly
opened their doors to him, courted his company,

206 THE MOST GORGEOUS

and vied with each other in inviting him to their
tables.

He soon became the central figure in a hundred
London drawing-rooms, where his epigrams were
repeated, and his wit was echoed ; at Crockford's
he gambled for big sums, showing the same good-
humoured indifference over his losses as in his
gains ; at the Coventry he laid down rules regard-
ing sport, on which he was an acknowledged
authority ; whilst again he flashed into a studio
such as Benjamin Haydon's, where he made capi-
tal remarks on the picture of the Duke of Welling-
ton the artist was painting, all of which were
sound, impressive, and grand, "and must be at-
tended to ; " and then, in a jiffy, to illustrate what
he meant, in the full pride of his dandyism, and
without removing his immaculate gloves, " he took
up a nasty, oily, dirty hogtool," and lowered the
hindquarters of Copenhagen, the duke's charger,
by bringing over a bit of sky. After that he
bounded into his cab like a young Apollo with
a fiery Pegasus, as the painter writes, adding,
quaintly enough, " I looked after him. I like to
see such specimens."

Meanwhile, Lady Harriet, who was his wife in
name only, had grown into a remarkably handsome
woman, with finely chiselled features, a delicate
complexion, and a distinguished air. In August,
1831, she had reached her nineteenth birthday,
and had now gained a self-possession, force of will,

LADY BLESSINGTON 207

and power of thought that, had they been hers
some four years previously, would have preserved
her from a union which was unsuitable and un-
happy from the first. Her temperament in all
ways differed from D'Orsay's. Brilliant, dashing,
and amusing, he saw the world from an exterior
point, whilst she, in the solitude which she pre-
ferred, and because of the wrongs which were
hers, had become sensitive and grave, had grown
to look beneath the surface of things, and to
regard mankind for what they were, rather than
for what they seemed.

That her husband, who was almost worshipped
abroad, neglected one who failed to appreciate
him, there can be no doubt ; and the injustice of
his treatment was emphasised by the fact of all he
owed her. For within twelve months of his mar-
riage he received, as part of her dowry, twenty
thousand pounds ; whilst Lord Blessington bound
his executors, within twelve months of his decease,
to invest a similar sum in the funds, the interest
thereof to be paid to Count D'Orsay during his
life, and after his death to his wife, Lady Harriet ;
the principal, at her death, going to any children
of their marriage, or, in case of failure of issue, to
be held in trust for the executor and administrator
of D'Orsay.

Though Lady Blessington extended to her the
kindness she showed to all, yet Lady Harriet,
young, retiring, and occupying an equivocal posi-

208 THE MOST GORGEOUS

tion, could not but feel suppressed, and considered
herself slighted in the society which gathered
around her beautiful and intellectual stepmother.
Jekyll, in one of his letters to Lady Gertrude
Sloane Stanley, gives a picture of "the pretty,
melancholy comtesse," gliding into the drawing-
room for a few minutes, after one of those Cuisine
de Paris exquise at which she had not been
present, and then retiring "to nurse her influenza."
Instead of being the wife of her husband, and the
mistress of a home, she found herself a super-
numerary in a circle with which she had no
sympathy. Disagreements followed, rebellion set
in; and in the autumn of 1831 she and Count
D'Orsay separated by mutual consent.

Her subsequent history may be anticipated.
Having left Seamore Place, she, accompanied by
her aunt and her sister, travelled through Italy, and
eventually settled in Paris. Here she occupied her
time in writing feuilletons and novels in the French
language, in the preface to one of which, " L' Ombre
du Bonheur," she says : " Being left alone in the
wide world at twenty years of age, without the
blessings of a family, and without any direct ob-
jects to which my affections might be legitimately
attached, I soon acquired the habits of contem-
plation and remark, and, as an inevitable conse-
quence, that of writing. Silent and reserved, it
was a constant consolation to me to confine my
inmost thoughts to the guardianship of paper, in-

LADY BLESSINGTON 209

stead of communicating them to those every-day
acquaintances, miscalled friends, who, too fre-
quently, wantonly betray that confidence which
has been entrusted to them."

In Paris she mixed amongst the society to which
her rank entitled her. Young and beautiful, un-
protected and sympathetic, she was much admired,
and eventually she contracted a friendship with
the Due d'Orldans, prince royal of France and
son of Louis Philippe, " whose sheltering kindness,"
we are delicately told, " could not have been other-
wise than thankfully received by one in so desolate
and peculiar a situation."

On Lady Harriet's departure, the scandal that
before had seemed vague and ill-founded now
gained strength and, as it would appear, founda-
tion. All kinds of rumours were in the air.
Count D'Orsay could no longer remain under
Lady Blessington's roof, and accordingly he took
a small house in Curzon Street close by. Neither
he nor the countess seemed to realise that a re-
turn to his own country was necessary to silence
slander. He was, so to speak, her son-in-law,
a family tie regarded with more reverence in his
country than in this ; she was nearly twelve years
his senior ; and, moreover, shortly before her death
his mother had extracted a promise from Lady
Blessington that she would look after the count,
who, as has already been stated, was wholly
ignorant of the value of money, and incapable of

210 THE MOST GORGEOUS

curtailing his own extravagances, or of guarding
himself against imposition.

At all events, Count D'Orsay, though living
elsewhere, was constantly in Lady Blessington's
house, where, it will be remembered, her sister,
Miss Power, resided ; he entertaining her guests,
and maintaining with her an unbroken friendship,
their manner being, as Mrs. Newton Crosland
says, "very much that of mother and son."

Though secretly humiliated and grieved by the
scandal which assailed her, Lady Blessington now
more than ever resolved to present a brave front
to the world. Accordingly, she entertained, as
before, the distinguished men who remained her
friends through life; and frequently was present
in her box at the opera, where, sumptuously attired
and magnificently bejewelled, she was, more than
royalty itself, the object on which thousands of
eyes were curiously bent, toward which innumer-
able glasses were turned ; she receiving, between
the acts, as might a queen her courtiers, the most
notable members of both houses of Parliament,
judges, generals, and diplomats, who came to pay
her in public the tribute of their homage.

And when she drove abroad to take the air, her
passage through the streets, or round the Row, at-
tracted the wonder and admiration of all who saw,
for her carriage, "the most faultless thing of its
kind in the world," resembled a chariot in size.
Gracefully built and lightly hung, it was painted

LADY BLESSINGTON 211

green, the wheels white picked out with green and
crimson, whilst the panels were emblazoned with
arms and supporters, surmounted by a coronet.
It was drawn by a splendid pair of dark bays, and
driven by a coachman in powdered hair, velvet
breeches, and silken stockings, whose elevation on
an unusually high box-seat made him conspicuous
above his fellows. The two footmen who stood
behind were clad as he, and matched each other
in their equal height of six feet.

But all this bravery of appearance did not shield
her against the mortifications to which an equivocal
position exposed a woman of sensitive mind, whose
desire it was to win the amity of all, to incur the
malice of none. And guard against them as she
might, or ignore them as she would make it appear,
there were ever slights and slurs to be met and en-
dured, flung at her in subtle and unexpected ways
by her relentless sex, which in secret made her
wince.

It was only to those whom she believed were
her sincere friends, that she deigned to show her
heart. Amongst those, she included Mrs. Charles
Mathews, who, since her son had been the guest
of the Blessingtons, had continually expressed her
gratitude to and friendship for them. Writing to
her a few weeks after Lady Harriet's departure,
the countess says, " Your letter found me sinking
under all the nervous excitation natural for a sen-
sitive person to feel under such painful and em-

212 THE MOST GORGEOUS

barrassing circumstances as I find myself placed
in."

And toward the end of this year, December
the 7th, 1831, in a letter also addressed to Mrs.
Mathews, there is a bitter cry that shows how
sore was the wound from which she suffered. In
this she says : " What shall I say in return for the
many sweet, but too flattering, things your par-
tiality has prompted you to address to me ? All
that I say is, that if it had been my lot in life to
have met with many hearts like yours, I might
have become all that your affection leads you to
believe me ; or if, in my near relations, I had met
with only kind usage or delicacy, I should now not
only be a happier, but a better woman, for happi-
ness and goodness are more frequently allied than
we think.

" But I confess to you, my beloved friend, a
great part of the milk and honey of nature, with
which my heart originally overflowed, is turned
into gall : and though I have still enough good-
ness left to prevent its bitterness from falling even
on those who have caused it, yet have I not power
to prevent its corroding my own heart, and rust-
ing many of the qualities with which nature had
blessed me.

" To have a proud spirit with a tender heart is
an unfortunate union, and I have not been able
to curb the first or steel the second; and when
I have felt myself the dupe of those for whom I

LADY BLESS1NGTON 213

sacrificed so much, and in return only asked for
affection, it has soured me against a world where
I feel alone — misunderstood — with my very best
qualities turned against me. If an envious or a
jealous crowd misjudge or condemn, a proud spirit
can bear up against injustice, conscious of its own
rectitude ; but if, in the most inveterate assailants,
one finds those whom we believe to be our trusted
friends, the blow is incurable and leaves behind a
wound that will, in spite of every effort, bleed
afresh as memory recalls the cruel conduct that
inflicted it.

" Caesar defended himself against his foes, but
when he saw his friend Brutus strike at him, he
gave up the struggle. If anything can preserve
me from the mildew of the soul that is growing on
me, it will be your affection, which almost recon-
ciles me to human nature."

CHAPTER X.

Lady Blessington Becomes an Author by Profession — Visit
from S. C. Hall — Her Journal of Conversations with Lord
Byron — The Countess Guiccioli Visits London — Writes
to Lady Blessington concerning Byron — Marriage of Mary
Anne Power — Landor Comes to England — Introduces
Henry Crabbe Robinson to Lady Blessington — His Impres-
sions— Anecdotes of Doctor Parr — Publishing a Novel —
Lady Blessington Edits the Book of Beauty.

[T soon became evident to Lady Blessing-
ton that, on an income of two thousand
a year, she could not maintain her house-
hold in its present splendour, which her love of the
luxurious and her sensitiveness to surroundings
made her unwilling to alter, and at the same time
support her father, her sister Mary Anne, and her
brother, now a married man with a family, who, no
longer agent for the Blessington estates, was then
without employment. Therefore seeking some
means by which she might increase her dower, her
inclinations turned toward literature, which was not
then, as now, the occupation of the million. Its
adoption as a calling was, moreover, acceptable to
her from the fact that, more than any other, it was
calculated to occupy her mind and prove a ref-

214

LADY BLESSINGTON 215

uge from the melancholy reflections which circum-
stances forced upon her.

Some four years after her marriage to Lord
Blessington she had produced a book called the
" Magic Lantern," containing sketches on such sub-
jects as the park, the opera, and the auction-room ;
and in 1823, whilst abroad, had published a second
volume entitled " Sketches and Fragments," treat-
ing of marriage, egotism, sensibility, friendship, fas-
tidiousness, etc. Both were smartly written and
gave promise of talent, though neither proved a
success : for from the first no profit was forth-
coming, whilst from the sales of the second she
had received but twenty pounds, which, with char-
acteristic generosity, she gave to a charity.

Since that time her naturally receptive mind
had widened by travel and intercourse with the
world. She had read much and observed closely,
and above all had profited by her intimate inter-
course with such men as Byron, Landor, Lamartine,
Herschel, Sir William Drummond, and Sir William
Cell. She was now a woman of unusual culture,
a delightful conversationalist, one who possessed
in a rare degree the admirable gift of graphic
narration, — all of which qualities would prove
highly serviceable to a writer.

There were already in the field such authors
as Sir Walter Scott, Theodore Hook, Captain
Marryat, Harrison Ainsworth, Bulwer, Disraeli,
Charles Dickens, John Gait, and William Godwin ;

216 THE MOST GORGEOUS

and amongst her own sex such story-tellers as
Maria Edgeworth, Lady Morgan, Miss Mitford,
Mrs. S. C. Hall, and Jane Porter. The poets in-
cluded Wordsworth, Campbell, Coleridge, Barry
Cornwall, Samuel Rogers, Tom Moore, Alfred
Tennyson, Mrs. Hemans, Miss Barrett, Miss Lan-
don ; and the essayists numbered Charles Lamb,
De Quincey, Thomas Carlyle, and Landor. In
every department of literature there seemed la-
bourers enough already, yet room might be found
for another. At this time Lady Blessington had
no definite intention of joining the novelists' ranks.
Verses, stories, and biographical sketches would
come easier to her pen ; but whilst a wide field of
subjects to select from lay before her, no special
design employed her mind. She felt assured,
however, that she could furnish material for the
periodicals, and already decided that the New
Monthly Magazine would be the most desirable
medium for a beginning.

This publication had been founded some ten
years previously by Colburn, and had counted
amongst its contributors the most notable writers
of the day. The first who filled the editorial chair
was none other than Thomas Campbell, who,
though readable as a poet, was execrable as an
editor ; he being a man under whose regime con-
fusion reigned supreme, from whom contributors
might hope in vain for answers ; who apologised
to his readers for " inserting without reflection "

LADY BLESSINGTON 217

an article which appeared in his pages, which,
on observing its unfairness, "made him feel dis-
satisfied with himself for having published it ; "
one who, to use Talfourd's words, "stopped the
press for a week to determine the value of a
comma, and balanced contending epithets for a
fortnight."

In November, 1831, Campbell was succeeded as
editor by Bulwer, who was therefore responsible
for the management of the magazine when, in the
spring of 1832, Lady Blessington wrote to offer
her services as a 'contributor. The assistant editor
was Samuel Carter Hall, then a man of one and
thirty, a writer of verse, a journalist, an editor,
and more than all, the husband of one who had
published charming and racy stories of Irish life
which had immediately brought her name before
the public.

In reply to Lady Blessington's letter, S. C.
Hall waited upon her, and was shown into the
drawing-room, crowded with works of art, its deep
embrasured windows looking on a fair garden.
He had not been long here when the door was
thrown open by a resplendent footman, and im-
mediately after Lady Blessington entered quietly
and gracefully, that smile upon her face which
was as witchery to all. His first impression was
that she " was remarkably handsome, not so, per-
haps, by the established canons of beauty, but
there was a fascination of look and manner that

2i8 THE MOST GORGEOUS

greatly augmented her personal charms. Her
face and features were essentially Irish, and that
is the highest compliment I can pay them," he
would add.

Her ardent admiration for talent, her delicate
tact, her desire to please, prompted her to say
many complimentary things regarding her richly
endowed countrywoman, Mrs. Hall, words which
were music to the ears on which they fell. Host-
ess and guest had much to say concerning the
country which had given them birth ; criticisms
followed on the writers of the day, amongst
whom he had many friends ; finally they spoke
of literature, a calling in which each was destined
to become distinguished.

Lady Blessington proposed various subjects as
suitable for treatment by her in the pages of the
New Monthly, but none of them commended
itself to the assistant editor. Then the conver-
sation became desultory, when he passed some
comment on a picture of Byron, hanging at a
little distance. This led to reminiscences regard-
ing the poet, whom she described with fluency,
recalling various opinions he had expressed to
her, describing his traits of character and man-
ners, the impressions he had given her.

" Now," said S. C. Hall, who knew the interest
felt by the public regarding the brilliant person-
ality of Byron, "why not write what you have
told me of the poet?"

LADY BLESSINGTON 219

Lady Blessington immediately accepted the sug-
gestion, and promised to act upon it, and in this
way her literary career may be said to have begun.

Whilst at Genoa, it will be remembered, she
had seen Byron continually, and he had spoken to
her unreservedly on a variety of subjects. Each
time he had left her presence, it had been her
habit to jot down their conversations as fully
as her excellent memory would permit. These
records of his opinions and traits she had pre-
served, and at once began to transcribe and
arrange them for the press. When ready, they
appeared in the New Monthly Magazine, under
the heading, " Journals of Conversations with Lord
Byron," the first instalment being published in
July, 1832, the last in December, 1833, when
they were issued in volume form.

The year 1832 was fruitful of events in Lady
Blessington's life; for not only may she be said
to have begun her literary career at this period,
but she also arranged a marriage between her
sister Mary Anne and a French nobleman, the
Count Saint Marsault. Miss Power was at this
time about thirty, whilst her husband was more
than double her age. The count was a dis-
tinguished-looking personage, with a wicked eye
and a charming smile, whose manners were the
most polite and amiable imaginable. A man of
rank, handsomely dressed, his long yellow fingers
loaded with rings that were heirlooms, it was con-

220 THE MOST GORGEOUS

sidered he had ample means to support himself
and his wife in the position proper for them to
maintain, an advantage which alone induced Mary
Anne Power to accept his proposal, she being
unwilling to remain any longer a burden on her
sister, and anxious to gain independence even by
the sacrifice of her feelings. On the other hand,
the count believed that the sister of an English
countess, who lived in a style so magnificent, could
not but have a handsome dowry.

Alas, the truth was known too late. The count
was well-nigh as poor as his wife ; and after living
together for a few months, during which they
daily disagreed, they willingly separated, he re-
turning to his own country, and she at first to
her sister, until such time as she went to Dublin
to take charge of her father, when in due course
her place hi Lady Blessington's household was
supplied by her nieces, Marguerite and Ellen
Power, the beautiful daughters of Lady Blessing-
ton's impecunious brother.

Her sister Ellen, who had married the Hon.
Charles Manners Sutton, was far more fortunate.
Her drawing-rooms were only less brilliant than
those of Lady Blessington, whilst her grace and
beauty were scarce second to the countess. Be-
tween his scrambles from the receptions of a
duchess to the concert of a marchioness, Tom
Moore graciously found time to call upon Mrs.
Manners Sutton, and in his diary speaks of being

LADY BLESSINGTON 221

amused to see her in state, in the Speaker's resi-
dence, the same hearty, lively Irishwoman still.
He walked with her in the garden, "the moonlight
on the river, the boats gliding along it, the towers
of Lambeth on the opposite bank, the lights of
Westminster bridge gleaming on the left, and
then when one turned around to the house, that
beautiful Gothic structure, illumined from within,
and at that moment containing within it the coun-
cil of the nation, all was most picturesque and
striking."

Another event which caused some sensation at
this date, not alone to Lady Blessington, but to
her circle, was a visit paid to London by the
Countess Guiccioli. For some years after Byron's
death she had lived in great retirement with her
father, and had subsequently taken up her resi-
dence in Paris. Her ancient husband was still
amongst the living, and a second marriage was
therefore impossible to the countess. As already
stated, Lady Blessington had met her in Rome ;
and on the arrival of Madame Guiccioli in London,
on March 25, 1832, she had hastened to call at
Seamore Place. Lady Blessington found her "a
very interesting person, gentle, amiable, and un-
happy," and gladly welcomed her to her salon,
where for several nights she proved a great attrac-
tion, all being eager to see and speak with the
woman whose charms had captivated and kept
Byron's capricious fancy.

222 THE MOST GORGEOUS

He had desired her not to learn English, pre-
ferring that she should always address him in the
delicious music of her native language ; but since
his death she had acquired a knowledge of his
tongue, and could understand what passed around
and was addressed to her. With her large blue
eyes, her blonde skin, and glorious red-gold hair,
she was fair to look upon as seen in Lady Bless-
ington's drawing-room, under the gracious patron-
age of her stately hostess, who introduced her to
those bidden to see so interesting a personage.

The countess had no desire to disassociate her-
self from the memory and history of so fascinating
and famous a man, but rather sunned herself in his
posthumous fame. With gentle melancholy she
spoke to them of him on whose stilled heart her
miniature had been found, listened to their gracious
speeches with delight, and accepted as homage the
curiosity she excited. Her appearance on the scene
was welcomely opportune at a moment when Lady
Blessington's " Conversations with Lord Byron "
were exciting comment and discussion regarding
the poet.

Scarcely had the Countess Guiccioli been a week
in town before she visited Harrow School, a place
inseparably connected with Lord Byron, where, as
she expresses it, she " enjoyed many melancholy
pleasures " on being shown over the sights sacred
to her lover's memory, her guide being the Rev.
Henry Drury, who had been master of Harrow

LADY BLESSINGTON 223

School during Byron's time. When all places of
interest were seen, she spent the day with the
Drury family. Later she visited Mrs. Leigh, the
poet's sister, with whom she passed three hours
"always speaking of him." Mrs. Leigh she con-
sidered the most amiable and good-natured person
in the world, " and, besides, poor Lord Byron was
so fond of her that she is a very interesting person
for me," wrote the contessa.

Lady Blessington was naturally desirous to make
her sketch of Byron as full and interesting as pos-
sible, and therefore asked Madame Guiccioli to send
her some extracts from the letters he had written
to her from Greece. This the contessa refused,
not on the ground that such communications were
too sacred for publication, but because she herself
intended one day to furnish the world with per-
sonal recollections of her lover.

" Perhaps," she says, in the letter which con-
tained her refusal, "you will blame me, but I
cannot conceal from you that I have the greatest
dislike to publish now any of Lord Byron's letters
to me. One day or other they will be published,
but the moment is not come yet. And also, don't
you think, my dear Lady Blessington, that if I were
to give you extracts and names, don't you think
that the malicious part, at least, of your readers,
would say you were influenced by your friendship
toward me, or by my entreaties to speak in hon-
ourable terms of Lord Byron's affection for me ?

224 THE MOST GORGEOUS

"This is so much my opinion that I am con-
vinced the world would give much more credit to
everything honourable you will say about Lord
Byron, not only without my own extracts, etc., but
still more, also, had you published it when you had
no acquaintance with or friendship for me. But
upon all that I will speak about with you, the first
time I shall have the pleasure to see you. And if
you like to see all Lord Byron's letters to me at
every part of our acquaintance, I will show them
to you with pleasure.

"Good evening, my dear Lady Blessington,
and many thanks for all your kindness toward
me."

The instalments of the " Conversations " in the
New Monthly did not quite please Madame Guic-
cioli. The passages referring to herself were, as
she acknowledged in a pretty little note, inspired
by a sympathy which she did not merit ; but re-
garding Byron she thought the writer too severe
at times, especially regarding his life at Venice
previous to the beginning of his last romance.
" Comme il aimoit a se calomnier, il Molt bien lui la
cause principale des fausses opinions qiton entre-
tenait de lui"

Lady Blessington's tactful reply to these com-
ments drew from the contessa the following letter,
written from Brighton, where she had gone, being
unable to accustom herself " to the dreadful noise
of Piccadilly and to the English songs."

LADY BLESSINGTON 225

" I received a note from you before my departure from
London, which, being a reply to the last of mine to you, I
did not answer. I found your remarks on my critique true
and reasonable, and, for some of them at least, I could have
scarce any other thing to reply, but that you are right.
Yes, you are right, my dear Lady Blessington, when you
say that, on account of my sensitiveness toward Lord Byron
(which has its source, not only in my exalted sense of his
perfections, but in all the results of my experience of the
world), I cannot be satisfied with any of his biographers.
But if I ever shall give my own impressions of him to the
public (which I look upon as a duty it remains for me to
perform toward his memory, one day or other), I fear, my
dear Lady Blessington, that, instead of being received by
the public with the interest you say, they would find I have
seen Lord Byron through a medium of affection, and would
laugh, perhaps, at what I feel so deeply in my heart.

" I am now living quite an English life, a quiet, serious
life, speaking all day the language of the English people ;
but I must confess, for an Italian this kind of life is a little
too formal, too cold, has too much of restraint in it on the
feelings, and makes me feel a kind of oppression upon my
breast. I feel as if I could not breathe freely, and yet
I have before my eyes the calm, wide, sublime ocean. I
don't find here the beauties of the Mediterranean shores,
the Bay of Naples, with its smiling islands and its brilliant
sky, but perhaps there is on this unlimited ocean a degree
more of sublimity. It appears to me that it is calculated
to inspire one with Ariosto's musings — that other with
Byron's poetry."

In the spring of this year another visitor from
abroad was warmly welcomed by Lady Blessing-
ton. This was Walter Savage Landor, with whom
she had, since their parting, carried on a corre-

226 THE MOST GORGEOUS

spondence. He had come to England for the pur-
pose of visiting his relatives and friends, with the
intention of returning to Florence in the autumn.
Soon after his arrival he called on the woman
whose friendship he so highly valued, and their
mutual pleasure was great. After years of ab-
sence from England, Landor desired to recall
himself to various friends, and also to transact
business, which had much accumulated ; so that
he was unable to become her guest as frequently
as Lady Blessington's hospitable and kindly heart
desired.

Therefore, in a letter, with which she forwarded
an engraving of one of her portraits, that it might
sometimes remind him of the original, she com-
plains of not seeing him more constantly.

" You are associated," she says, " in my memory
with some of my happiest days ; you were the
friend, and the highly valued friend, of my dear
and lamented husband, and as such, even without
any of the numberless claims you have to my
regard, you could not be otherwise than highly
esteemed. It appears to me that I have not quite
lost him who made life dear to me, when I am near
those he loved, and that knew how to value him.

"Five fleeting years have gone by since our
delicious evenings on the lovely Arno, evenings
never to be forgotten, and the recollections of
which ought to cement the friendships then formed.
This effect, I can in truth say, has been pro-

LADY BLESSINGTON 227

duced on me, and I look forward with confidence
to keeping alive, by a frequent correspondence, the
friendship you owe me, no less for what I feel
for you, than as the widow of one you loved, and
that truly loved you. We, or, more properly speak-
ing, I, live in a world where friendship is little
known, and were it not for one or two individuals
like yourself, I might be tempted to exclaim with
Socrates, ' My friends, there are no friends.' Let
us prove that the philosopher was wrong, and if
fate has denied us the comfort of meeting, let us
by letters keep up our friendly intercourse. You
will tell me what you think and feel in your Tus-
can retirement, and I will tell you what I do in
the modern Babylon, where thinking and feeling
are almost unknown.

" Have I not reason to complain that, in your
sojourn in London, you do not give me a single
day ? And yet, methinks, you promised to stay
a week, and that of that week I should have my
share. I rely on your promise of coming to see
me again before you leave London, and I console
myself for the disappointment of seeing so little of
you by recollecting the welcome and the happiness
that wait you at home. Long may you enjoy it,
is the sincere wish of your attached friend.

" I shall be glad to hear what you think of the
* Conversations.' I could have made them better,
but they would no longer have been what they
now are, genuine."

228 THE MOST GORGEOUS

Most of Landor's relatives lived in Bath and
its neighbourhood, where he spent the summer
months, but he was back in town in September,
on his way homewards, when he became Lady
Blessington's constant guest. In that month he
brought with him an old friend, Henry Crabbe
Robinson, whom he introduced to the countess.

Robinson, who was at this time in his fifty-
seventh year, had practised at the bar, and had
afterward acted as foreign editor of the Times. A
man of wealth, he had travelled, and during his
active life made the friendship of such people as
Goethe, Flaxman, William Blake, Charles Lamb,
Wordsworth, Coleridge, De Quincey, Madame de
Stae'l, and, indeed, most of the celebrities of his
time, many of whom he entertained at his famous
breakfasts. Lady Blessington was not the less
pleased with this gracious and interesting man
than he was with her, and in his diary he speaks of
her as a charming and remarkable person, who has
left on him a delightful impression. He compares
her to a Countess Egloffstein, but declares his
hostess was far more handsome, though "their
countenance, manners, and particularly the tone of
voice, belong to the same class."

Lady Blessington's dress he describes as rich,
and her library most splendid. " Her book about
Lord Byron, now publishing by driblets in the
New Monthly Magazine, and her other writings,
give her, in addition, the character of a bel esprit.

LADY BLESSINGTON 229

Landor, too, says that she was to Lord Blessing-
ton the most devoted wife he ever knew. He
says, also, that she was by far the most beautiful
woman he ever saw. She is now, Landor says,
about thirty, but I should have thought her older.
She is a great talker, but her talk is rather nar-
rative than declamatory, and very pleasant. She
and Landor were both intimate with Doctor Parr,
but they had neither of them any mot of the
doctor to relate to match several that I told them
of him ; indeed, in the way of bons mots, I heard
only one in the evening worth copying. I should
have said there were with Lady Blessington her
sister, a Countess Saint Marsault, and a handsome
Frenchman of stately person, who speaks English
well, — Count D'Orsay. He related of Madame de
Stae'l, whose character was discussed, that one day,
being on a sofa with Madame R^camier, one who
placed himself between them exclaimed, ' Me voila
entre la beaute" et V esprit? Madame de Stael replied,
'That is the first time I was ever complimented
for beauty.' Madame Recamier was thought the
handsomest woman in Paris, but was by no means
famed for esprit.

"Nearly the whole of the conversation was
about Lord Byron, to whose name perhaps Lady
Blessington' s will be attached when her beauty
survives only in Sir Thomas Laurence's painting
and in engravings. She, however, is by no means
an extravagant admirer of Lord Byron. The best

230 THE MOST GORGEOUS

thing left by Lord Byron with Lady Blessington
is a copy of a letter written by him in the name
of Fletcher, giving an account of his own death
and of his abuse of his friends : humour and irony
mingled with unusual grace."

One of the anecdotes told regarding the learned
Doctor Parr was, that on hearing a young man
scoff at religion, and make fun of the story of
Balaam's ass and its cross, he turned to him im-
pressively, and said, " It would be well, sir, if you
had less of the ass and more of the cross." And
on another occasion, when the doctor was aggra-
vated by a youth who, confident in his opinions,
strongly advanced them, Parr said to him, "You
are a young man, you have read much, thought
little, and know nothing at all."

Before the year was out Henry Crabbe Robin-
son called again on Lady Blessington, to whose
receptions he was given a general invitation.
"Old Jekyll was with her," he narrates. "He
recognised me and I stayed in consequence a
considerable time." He found the conversation
"various, anecdotic, and several matters were re-
lated worth recollecting." No man could be more
amusing, courteous, and entertaining than Jekyll.
In speaking of Lady Blessington's literary abilities,
he declared that Fortune was a fickle jade, for she
might have contented herself in bestowing beauty,
but she grew extravagant and threw talents and
taste into the bargain. Then, when the talk turned

LADY BLESSINGTON 231

on Lord Erskine, who used to hesitate very much
in his delivery, and could not speak well after
dinner, Jekyll narrated that he dined with his
lordship once at the Fishmongers' Company, "and
he made such sad work of speechifying that I
asked him whether it was in honour of the com-
pany that he floundered so."

What most amused Henry Crabbe Robinson on
this occasion was the reading by Lady Blessington
of " a ridiculously absurd letter from an American,
suggesting that a monument should be raised to
Byron, to be built of flint and brass, and covered
with great names. Lady Blessington was asked
to contribute an Andenken, in return for which
she was promised that her name should have a
prominent place.'*

Though, as she tells a correspondent, she had
now all the horrors of authorship on her hands,
and had not an hour to call her own by day, whilst
at night she retired to bed so fatigued as to be
unable to sleep, yet she found time to write letters
to her friends when they needed advice or sympa-
thy. For example when, through loss of specula-
tions and breaking health, ill fortune was beginning
to darken the life of the elder Charles Mathews,
she wrote his wife the following kindly letter :

" It is strange, my dearest friend, but it is no less strange
than true, that there exists some hidden chord of sympathy,
'some lightening of the mind,' that draws kindred souls
toward each other when the bodies are separated. I have

232 THE MOST GORGEOUS

been, for the last four days, thinking so much of you, that
had this day been tolerable, I should have gone to you, as
I had a thousand misgivings that something was wrong,
when lo, your little note arrives, and I find that you too
have been thinking of your absent friend.

" I shall be glad to hear that Mr. Mathews is returned,
and in better health and spirits. I feel all that you had to
undergo ; that wear and tear of mind, that exhausts both
nerves and spirits, is more pernicious in its effects than
greater trials. The latter call forth our energies to bear
them, but the former wear us out without leaving even the
self-complacency of resisted shocks. I shall be most glad
to see you again, and to tell you that in nearness, as in dis-
tance, your affection is the cable that holds the sheet-anchor,
and reconciles me to a world where I see much to pity, and
little to console."

Toward the end of this year, and whilst her
" Conversations " were yet attracting much atten-
tion, she set about writing a novel, her first serious
effort in this department of literature. The book,
which chiefly dealt with Irish politics, was called
"The Repealers," and when published in June,
1833, was favourably received by the press. Her
personal friends hastened to applaud her efforts,
and amongst the letters received from them, rela-
tive to " The Repealers," was a characteristic effu-
sion from Walter Savage Landor, which ran as
follows :

" I am inclined to hope and believe that « The Re-
pealers ' may do good. Pardon me smiling at your ex-
pression, the only one perhaps not original in the book,
'going to the root of the evil.' This is always said about

LADY BLESSINGTON 233

the management of Ireland. Alas ! the root of the evil lies
deeper than the centre of the earth.

" Two things must be done, and done soon. It must be
enacted that any attempt to separate one part of the United
Kingdom from the other is treason. Secondly, no church-
man, excepting the two archbishops and the Bishop of Lon-
don, shall enjoy more than twelve hundred pounds yearly
from the Church, the remainder being vested in government
for the support of the poor. Formerly the clergy and the poor
were joint tenants ; nay, the clergy distributed amongst the
poor more than half. Even in the territories of the Pope
himself, the bishoprics, one with another, do not exceed eight
hundred a year, and certainly a fifth, at least, is distributed
among the needy. What a scandal that an admiral, who has
served fifty years, and endangered his life in fifty actions,
should receive but a twentieth part of what is thrown into
the surplice of some cringing college tutor, whose services
two hundred a year would overpay. I am afraid that Sir
Robert Peel's quick eye may overlook this. Statesmen,
like goats, live the most gaily among inequalities."

Lady Blessington was daily becoming more
absorbed by literature, a pursuit which had the
desired effect of occupying her thoughts, and
adding to her income ; for not only was she a
contributor to the New Monthly, the author of
a novel, but in this year, 1833, she was appointed
to the editorship of the " Book of Beauty," one of
the forerunners of the modern annuals. For some
time previous Christmas gift-books had been
the fashion, the first of these having been in-
troduced from Germany into England in 1822,
by Ackerman, the publisher, and called "Forget-

234 THE MOST GORGEOUS

me-not" A year later he issued " Friendship's
Offering." These productions, which contained
poems and sketches whose worthlessness would
now prevent their admission into the poorest of
our magazines, were fairly well illustrated, inter-
leaved with sheets of blank paper, bound in tinted
wrappers of the same material, and sold for twelve
shillings.

Their success begot competition, and with ri-
valry they improved. In 1 824, Alaric Watts edited
"The Literary Souvenir," next year S. C. Hall
edited "The Amulet," for Baynes, of Paternoster
Row ; later still came "The Scenic Annual," edited
by Thomas Campbell ; " Tableaux or Picturesque
Scenes of National Character, Beauty, and Cos-
tume," edited by Mary Russell Mitford ; "The
Court Journal," edited by the Hon. Mrs. Norton ;
"The Gem," edited by Tom Hood; "The Anni-
versary," edited by Allan Cunningham ; Heath's
"Book of Beauty," edited by L. E. Landon ; and
"The Keepsake," first edited by Mansel Reynolds
and afterward by the Countess of Blessington.

In one year no less than seventeen of these
annuals were published. The rapid improvement
they made in art and literature was appreciated by
the public, with whom, for a time, they became
extremely popular. At first the annuals were
mainly contributed to by people of rank and
fashion, interest in whose social position, it was
hoped, would compensate for their lack of talent ;

LADY BLESSINGTON 235

but later it was found necessary to secure the pro-
duction of distinguished and popular writers, to
whom large prices were paid. For instance, Sir
Walter Scott received five hundred pounds for a
contribution to " The Keepsake," and Tom Moore
was offered six hundred pounds for one hundred
and twenty lines of prose or verse by the editor of
the same publication. Theodore Hook first pub-
lished his sketch, " The Splendid Annual, — the
Lord Mayor of London," in " The Anniversary ; "
the " Dream of Eugene Aram " first appeared in
" The Gem ; " whilst Walter Savage Landor wrote
some of his " Imaginary Conversations " for the
"Book of Beauty."

The art department also made rapid strides
toward perfection. Painters were now paid from
twenty to a hundred and fifty pounds for per-
mission to have their works produced. In one
instance the publishers of " The Amulet " paid
twelve hundred guineas for the use and the en-
graving of the plates it contained ; and strange
to say, this number was the most profitable they
published. The binding of the annuals kept pace
with their contents ; tinted paper was no longer
used, it being discarded for silk of gorgeous colours,
silk in time giving place to velvet and morocco
leather. The price, which began at twelve shillings,
bounded to a guinea on the first issue of "The
Keepsake," whose second number, it may be stated,
cost its proprietors sixteen hundred pounds.

236 LADY BLESSINGTON

With the editorship of the " Book of Beauty,"
a new phase may be said to have begun in Lady
Blessington's life, a phase fuller of interest and
event than those which had gone before.

CHAPTER XL

Lady Blessington's Circle Widens — Young Disraeli — The
Effects of "Vivian Grey" — A Strange Illness — Corre-
spondence with Bulwer — Criticisms of " The Young Duke "
— Travel and Adventures — A Psychological Romance — An
Extraordinary Figure — Meeting the Great Ones of the
Earth — The Reading of a Revolutionary Epic — As for
Love?

>S editor of the "Book of Beauty," Lady
Blessington was brought into correspon-
dence and connection, not only with
authors, poets, and essayists, but likewise with
artists, engravers, publishers, editors, and critics.
Her circle widened, became richer in variety,
losing nothing of the old it gained by the
new. She now made the acquaintance and sub-
sequently gained the friendship of such men as
Bulwer, Macready, actor and manager; the elder
Disraeli and his brilliant son, Benjamin ; Barry
Cornwall, Captain Marryat, the poet Campbell,
Harrison Ainsworth ; Albany Fonblanque, an
eminent political writer, and editor and proprietor
of the Examiner ; Maclise, and James and Horace
Smith, authors of "The Rejected Addresses."
237

238 THE MOST GORGEOUS

Gradually her drawing-room became the ac-
knowledged centre of all that was brilliant in lit-
erature and art ; the common ground where the
aristocracy of rank met that of talent ; where
painters were introduced to patrons, and authors
met editors and publishers, and critics came face
to face with the criticised ; the hostess presiding
over an assemblage whose prejudices on the one
hand, and whose sensitiveness on the other, made
them difficult to manage ; but which she, with her
strong individuality, felicitous tact, and common
sense, succeeded in harmonising.

Perhaps the most remarkable, most interesting
of all who crowded her salon, was young Benjamin
Disraeli, a distinguished figure in any assemblage,
physically and mentally.

In thought, he had ever been in advance of his
years, as a schoolboy had fretted at formulas that
had given him words instead of ideas ; and at a
period when most lads are unformed in mind and
plastic, this youth had distinguished himself by
his imagination, fluency, his ambitious dreams,
his brilliancy. It was out of school, indeed, he
had learned most, the place which pleased and
helped him best being his father's library.

In the course of his reading, he was left to his
fancy, the volumes which had most attraction
dealing with men who had risen by force of their
own abilities. Young Ben was acutely conscious
of power within himself, but the scene toward

LADY BLESSINGTON 239

which it led was unknown, unsighted, one of
those mysteries which lend a delightful charm
to untried youth.

Early in life he was seized by that greed of dis-
tinction, which was later to elevate him, and he
had been bidden by his father to beware of being
a great man in a hurry. The elder Disraeli, who
was something of a poet and a dreamer, had, early
in life, with a choice strange to his race, refused to
become interested in business, and employed him-
self as an author, in which pursuit he immediately
gained distinction and attracted around him many
scholars and leading literary men of the day.
Having inherited a fortune from his father, he
became independent, and soon after abandoned
Judaism because, as he explained, of the narrow-
ness of its system in modern days, and, with all
his family, joined the Church of England.

The elder Disraeli had three other children to
educate and provide for, two sons and a daughter.
Soon after he left school Benjamin's career was
mapped out for him, a powerful friend of the
family having offered to secure him a post in
the Court of Chancery, which, in due course,
would lead to a good position and a handsome
•income. But that he might become qualified for
this it was necessary he should first be admitted
as a solicitor. At the age of seventeen he, there-
fore, entered a lawyer's office, and though its busi-
ness was wholly uncongenial to his restless and

240 THE MOST GORGEOUS

aspiring spirit, he conscientiously went through
the routine of his duties whilst there.

His whole time, however, was not given to law
books. At his father's house he continually met
poets and politicians, the great critics, newspaper
writers, and men of general ability, to whom he
condescended to listen, weighing them, measuring
them against himself, somewhat to their detri-
ment, commenting on them mentally. He then
began to write for the press, and presently, in
his twentieth year, produced a remarkable novel,
"Vivian Grey," no less full of affectation than
ability, and replete with satire and personality.

The book, which was published anonymously,
seized upon public attention, its impertinence was
laughed at and resented, its wit discussed at
dinner-tables, and a key to the personages it sat-
irised published. Lady Blessington, reading it in
Paris, declared it was wild, but clever, "full of
genius, and dazzling by its passionate eloquence."

The delight which success brought him was
checked by a strange and unaccountable illness
that befel him. His head became heavy and dull,
he was seized with fits of giddiness, during which
the world swung round him, he became abstracted,
and once fell into a trance from which he did not
recover for a week. Work in a lawyer's office
was no longer possible ; doctors were consulted,
and he was advised to travel. With friends of the
family he went through Switzerland to the north

LADY BLESSINGTON 241

of Italy as far as Venice, and back by France.
On his return home he was little better, and all
thought of serious work was postponed.

The elder Disraeli, by this time, had removed
from his residence in Russell Square and taken
an old picturesque manor-house, named Braden-
ham, two miles from High Wycombe, in Buck-
inghamshire. Here Benjamin had the benefit
of healthful air, he walked for hours upon the
downs, or rode across country at his leisure. Yet
such advantages, together with the care of his
mother and sister, failed to cure him ; his nervous
headaches continued, at times the old giddiness
seized him, work in a solicitor's office was still
avoided. Indeed, the condition of his health, his
distaste for law, and disinclination for a position,
which, if it afforded him a handsome competence,
would likewise hamper his individuality, made him
decline the post in the Court of Chancery, which
was then given to his brother Ralph.

Young Disraeli was now permitted to take
his own way, which those about him were wise
enough to see must lead to distinction. His stars
beckoning him toward the course he was to
follow, he became absorbed in politics and desired
a place in Parliament. At this time, however,
there seemed no prospect of his realising his am-
bition, — he must wait ; meanwhile he read and,
in the intervals of *his headaches, he wrote. It
was about this time that he addressed Bulwer,

242 THE MOST GORGEOUS

who was also to become a warm friend of Lady
Blessington's.

Whilst at college Bulwer had entered into cor-
respondence with the elder Disraeli, whose works
he greatly admired, and had visited the author at
Bradenham, where, possibly, he had not met Ben-
jamin.

Early in 1829 the latter sent the author of
"Pelham" a present of some Turkish tobacco,
when Bulwer, writing from Brooke's Club, thanks
him, with a somewhat lofty air, "for the delicate
and flattering attention he had been pleased to pay
him," adding, "things of that sort have a great
value to the author, and the value is his power of
burning them." He will be happy in any way to
repay this attention, and, as one of the public,
hopes that his correspondent's health and leisure
will very soon allow him to fulfil the brilliant and
almost unrivalled promise his works had already
given.

Five months later, in a more friendly note, Bul-
wer declares himself shocked by the melancholy
account Disraeli has given of his health, adding
that he would be extremely glad to welcome him
at his country-house in Woodcote, but should he
be unable to accept the invitation, Bulwer hopes
they may meet in town.

This meeting, between two men whose writings
had already given to the world promise of brilliant
performance, resulted in friendship, and, in 1830,

LADY BLESSINGTON 243

Disraeli submitted the manuscript of the first
volume of his novel, "The Young Duke," to
Bulwer, who wrote a lengthy criticism upon it,
not wholly favourable. Beginning by speaking
of the uncommon gratification the story had
given him, and the statement that pages could
be filled with praises of its wit, the terseness of
its style, its philosophy, and the remarkable felic-
ity with which the coldest insipidities of real life
are made entertaining and racy, he adds that
Disraeli does not seem to do justice to his own
powers, when he is so indulgent to flippancies.

"The flippancies I allude to," says the critic,
" are an ornate and showy effeminacy, which I
think you should cut off on the same principle
as Lord Ellinborough should cut off his hair.
In a mere fashionable novel, aiming at no higher
merit, and to a mere dandy, aiming at nothing
more solid, the flippancies and the hair might
be left, — and left gracefully. But I do not
think the one suits a man who is capable of
great things nor the other a man who occupies
great places.

"At all events, if you do not think twice, and
act alike upon this point, I fear you are likely
to be attacked and vituperated to a degree which
fame can scarcely recompense, and which here-
after may cause you serious inconvenience. The
egotisms I do not object to. They are always
charming and often exceedingly touching."

244 THE MOST GORGEOUS

This letter had the effect of making Disraeli
displeased, not with its writer, but with his own
work, which he threatened to destroy, a threat
which brought from Bulwer an assurance that
he considered what he had read " a very fine and
brilliant book," and all he asked was for the writer
to consider whether he would correct it.

When published, " The Young Duke," a clever
book, giving vivid sketches of society, was eagerly
read, praised, abused, and talked of, but it scarcely
advanced its author's reputation.

As he grew no better of his mysterious malady,
he wished once more to travel, and it was but
natural to one of his temperament that his de-
sires should turn toward the East, the land of his
ancestors, the home of mysticism and romance.
His father, however, who considered the neces-
sary outlay, was unwilling to agree with his son's
wishes ; but they were, as he states, soon " knocked
on the head, in a calmer manner than I could have
expected, from my somewhat rapid, but indulgent
sire."

All objections to his desires were presently
removed, when friends and former neighbours of
the family, the Austens, with whom he had
travelled into Italy, came to his assistance and
enabled him to carry out his scheme. Accom-
panied by a friend, he set out on his journey, in
June, 1830, and reached Gibraltar on the first
of the following month. His fame as a novelist

LADY BLESSINGTON 245

had preceded him, and when the garrison talked
of "Vivian Grey," he at first apologised and spoke
of youthful blunders, being really ashamed, "but
finding them, to my astonishment, sincere, and
fearing they were stupid enough to adopt my
last opinion, I shifted my position, just in time,
looked very grand, and passed myself off for a
child of the sun, like the Spaniards of Peru."

Amongst the subalterns, he maintained his repu-
tation for being a great judge of costume, to their
envy and admiration. "I have also," he writes,
" the fame of being the first who ever passed the
straits with two canes, a morning and an evening
one. I change my cane on the gunfire, and hope
to carry them both on to Cairo. It is wonderful
the effect those magical wands produce. I owe
to them even more attention than to being the
supposed author of — what is it? I forget."

From Gibraltar he went to Spain, a land whose
light and colour, passion and romance, strongly
appealed to his nature. To him it was the
country for adventure, as he writes. A wonder-
ful ecclesiastical establishment covers the land
with a privileged class. You are wakened from
your slumbers by the rosario, the singing proces-
sion by which the peasantry congregate to their
labours. " It is most effective, full of noble chants
and melodious responses, that break upon the still
fresh air and your ever fresher feelings in a man-
ner truly magical. Oh, wonderful Spain ! I thought

246 THE MOST GORGEOUS

enthusiasm was dead within me and nothing could
be new. I have hit, perhaps, upon the only coun-
try which could have upset my theory."

Malta was the next place visited, and here he
made some sensation. They had long been expect-
ing him, he tells his father. Here affectation told
better than wit. The previous day he had been
at a racket court, sitting in the gallery amongst
strangers. The ball entered and, lightly striking
him, fell at his feet. He picked it up and, observ-
ing a young rifleman excessively stiff, he humbly
requested him to forward its passage into the court,
as he had really never thrown a ball in his life.

As to his health, he was still infirm, but no
longer destitute of hope. "I wander," he says,
"in pursuit of health, like the immortal exile in
pursuit of that lost shore, which is now almost
glittering in my sight."

Luck being with him, he met at Gibraltar a
wealthy friend, named James Clay, who, having
a yacht, invited Disraeli and his friend to sail
with him to Greece. Of course they accepted,
and for this voyage the young author arrayed
himself in the costume of a Greek pirate, a blood-
red shirt, with silver buttons as big as shillings,
an immense scarf for girdle, full of pistols and
daggers, red cap, red slippers, broad blue-striped
jacket and trousers.

Arrived at Corfu, they learned the grand vizier
was at Yanina, when Disraeli decided on paying

LADY BLESSINGTON 247

him a visit. Meanwhile, he hired a servant, a
Greek of Cyprus, who wore a Mameluke dress of
crimson and gold, with a white turban, thirty yards
long, and a sabre glittering like a rainbow. At
Arta, where he rested on his way, he for the first
time reposed upon a divan, and for the first time
heard a muezzin from a minaret. Then he waited
on the" Turkish governor. " I cannot describe,"
he writes, "the awe with which I first entered
the divan of a great Turk, and the curious feeling
with which I found myself squatting on the right
hand of a bey, smoking an amber-mouthed chi-
bouque, drinking coffee, and paying him compli-
ments through an interpreter."

The life of the Turkish people greatly accords
with his taste, which was, naturally, somewhat in-
dolent and melancholy. "And I do not think it
would disgust you," he writes to Bulwer, " to re-
pose on voluptuous ottomans, and smoke superb
pipes, daily to indulge in the luxuries of a bath,
which requires half a dozen attendants for its per-
fection ; to court the air in a carved ca'fque, by
shores which are a perpetual scene ; and to find
no exertion greater than a canter on a barb ;
this is, I think, a far more sensible life than
all the bustles of clubs, all the boring of drawing-
rooms, and all the coarse vulgarity of our political
controversies."

A life such as this was destined to remain a
dream to him ; the more active side of his char-

248 THE MOST GORGEOUS

acter led him through the bustle, the borings, and
the vulgarities of which he speaks.

Cyprus, Jaffa, and Jerusalem were next visited,
the most delightful week of all his travels being
spent in the Holy City, where every night he
dined on the roof of a house by moonlight, the
wonderful land around full of the mysteries of
shadows. Thence he went to Egypt, where he
ascended the Nile to Thebes. " My eyes and my
mind," he writes, "yet ache with a grandeur so
little in unison with our littleness. The land-
scape was quite characteristic : mountains of burn-
ing sand, vegetation unnaturally vivid, groves of
cocoa -trees, groups of crocodiles, and an ebon
population in a state of nudity, armed with spears
of reeds."

In the summer of 1831 he was back in Eng-
land ; the great enemy, as he called his illness, was
overcome. He was in a famous condition, full of
life and hope. He was also great with literary
projects, and at once set himself to write a new
novel, "Contarini Fleming; a Psychological Ro-
mance," which was published in May, 1832. This
novel, containing wonderful pictures of Oriental
life, was pronounced by Dean Milman a work in
no way inferior to "Childe Harold," and equally
calculated to arrest public attention.

This later opinion was soon justified. The
romance met with abundance of praise and blame.
"One thing which we all expected," says the

LADY BLESSINGTON 249

author, "is very evident, that not one of the
writers has the slightest idea of the nature or
purpose of the work. Amongst others, Tom
Campbell, who, as he says, never reads any books
not his own, is delighted with it. 'I shall re-
view it myself/ he exclaims, 'and it will be a
psychological review.' "

Early in 1832 he had taken rooms in Duke
Street, a town residence being quite necessary.
As may readily be imagined, a man of his bril-
liancy and promise was eagerly sought, and he
soon became acquainted with a wide circle. He
was now on the threshold of that career to which
he had long and anxiously looked forward. The
great part he was to play before the world was yet
invisible, wrapt in the future ; but that prescience
of events, which comes to finer minds, bracing
them with hope and courage, that glow which
precedes the dawn, assured him of that which was
to come, — that toward which he hastened with
impatience.

Knowing that to impress by ability was more
difficult than to attract by notoriety, he conde-
scended to gain attention by singularity, fully
conscious that he could, when necessary, prove
his genius. The rdle he assumed was in no way
displeasing or humiliating; on the contrary, it
could not have been but amusing to one gifted
with such sense of humour. His society manners
were full of dainty affectation; he was flippant,

250 THE MOST GORGEOUS

impertinent, satirical, according to the company in
which he found himself, but amazingly clever in
all; whilst he dressed with a lavish foppishness
that seemed to merit Carlyle's description of him,
as "a fantastic ape."

An account of his appearance before a startled
dinner-party is given by Lady Dufferin. On this
occasion he wore a black velvet coat, lined with
satin, purple trousers, with a gold band running
down the outside seam, a scarlet waistcoat, long
lace ruffles, falling down to the tips of his fingers,
white gloves, with several brilliant rings outside
them, and long black ringlets rippling upon his
shoulders.

It was only a man of genius who could, not
merely unabashed, but calm in the consciousness
of superiority, present such a figure in a British
household and amongst the most conservative of
aristocracies. But he was favoured by having
Hebrew blood in his veins ; he had come of the
most wonderful race which the world, with its
teeming millions, has produced ; unconquerable,
unique alike in its sublimity and its strength ;
unsurpassed in its ability ; a race that has merci-
fully leavened all Western nations, and given them
the greatest they possess in art.

A curious figure that derided sobriety, he looked
half contemptuously, half amusedly, and with some
curiosity, at the life around him. Fluent, his
words seemed to conceal his thoughts ; vivacious,

LADY BLESSINGTON . 251

it appeared impossible to penetrate him. The
unknown is ever preferable to the obvious. From
the first he was a success.

At a reunion at Bulwer's he met Lords Strang-
ford and Mulgrave, Count D'Orsay, "the famous
Parisian dandy," and a large sprinkling of Blues,
amongst them Lady Morgan, Mrs. Norton, and
L. E. L.

" Bulwer came up to me, and said, ' There is
one Blue who insists upon an introduction.' * Oh,
my dear fellow, I cannot, really, the power of
repartee has deserted me.' ' I have pledged my-
self, you must come ; ' so he led me up to a very
sumptuous personage, looking like a full-blown
rose, Mrs. Gore." Though he conversed with
the novelist, he avoided the poetess, L. E. L.,
" who looked the very personification of Brompton,
— pink satin dress and white satin shoes, red
cheeks, snub nose, and hair d la Sappho."

His intimacy with the Bulwers was now thor-
oughly established. He dined there in March,
1832. His host, "whatever may be his situation,
is more sumptuous and fantastic than ever ; " his
hostess was a blaze of jewels and looked like Juno,
"only, instead of a peacock, she had a dog in her
lap, called Fairy, and not bigger than a bird of para-
dise and quite as brilliant. We drank champagne
out of a saucer of ground glass, mounted on a
pedestal of cut glass," he records, open champagne
glasses being evidently a novelty at that date.

252 t THE MOST GORGEOUS

A more memorable entertainment took place
under the same roof the following month. L.
E. L. was again there, but quite changed. " She
had thrown off Greco-Bromptonian costume, and
was perfectly a la Fran$aise, and really looked
pretty. At the end of the evening, I addressed
a few words to her, of the value of which she
seemed sensible." Then a lady of more than
certain age, very fantastically dressed, came up
to him and asked his opinion about a Leonardo
da Vinci. " She paid me the most ridiculous
compliments. This was Lady Stepney."

He had a long conversation with Lord Mul-
grave, - and a man who turned out to be Lord
William Lennox, and in the course of the even-
ing he stumbled over Tom Moore, to whom he
introduced himself. "It is evident that he has
read or heard of the young duke, as his courtesy
was marked. * How is your head ? ' he inquired.
' I have heard of you, as everybody has. Did we
not meet at Murray's once ? ' "

The evening was, however, most remarkable as
being that on which he first met the woman who
subsequently became his wife, freed him from
debt, and rendered him independent. "I was
introduced * by particular desire' to Mrs. Wynd-
ham Lewis," he writes, "a pretty little woman, a
flirt, and a rattle ; indeed, gifted with a volubility
I should think unequalled, and of which I can
convey no idea. She told me that she 'liked

LADY BLESSINGTON 253

silent, melancholy men.' I answered * that I had
no doubt of it."'

Next, we find him dining with Lord Eliot, after-
ward Earl of St. Germains, where the author sat
next to Sir Robert Peel. "He is a very great
man indeed," comments Disraeli, "and they all
seem afraid of him. By the bye, I observed that
he attacked his turbot almost entirely with his
knife. I can easily conceive that he could be
very disagreeable, but yesterday he was in a
most condescending mood, and unbent with be-
coming haughtiness. I reminded him tby my
dignified familiarity both that he was an ex-min-
ister and I a present Radical."

He was still determined to enter Parliament,
and in this year, 1832, twice contested High
Wycombe in high Radical interests, taking with
him strong recommendatory letters from O'Con-
nell, Hume, and Burdett, but in both instances
was defeated. The failure of constituents to
appreciate him did not destroy his hopes or his
confidence in himself. In February he went as
a visitor to the House of Commons to hear Bul-
wer adjourn the House and to listen to a fine
debate. Here he heard Macaulay's best speech,
Sheil, and Charles Grant ; the first he thought
admirable, "but between ourselves," he wrote, "I
could floor them all. I was never more confident
of anything than that I could carry everything
before me in that House. The time will come."

254 THE MOST GORGEOUS

A month later, and "The Wondrous Tale of
Alroy" was published. From the first it was
successful, and added fresh fame to its author.
The greatest houses were opened to him, and he
was seen at all fashionable assemblies. Count
D'Orsay, having introduced him to Lady Bless-
ington, he at once became her friend. He
was asked by her to dinner, when he met,
amongst others, Lord Durham, the Prince of
Moskova, Lords Elphinston and Castlereagh.
Then he went to Lady Cork's, where was the
Duke of Wellington in high spirits ; later to a
water-party with D'Orsay to Blackwall. Lady
Cork invited him to a rout ; he met Lord Lynd-
hurst ; he dined with O'Connell ; he was in-
troduced to Malibran ; he made his de"but at
Almacks ; he visited the Duchess of St. Albans.
" I have had a great success in society this
year," he tells his sister. "I am as popular
with the dandies as I was hated by the second-
rate men. I make my way easily in the highest
set, where there is no envy, malice, etc., and
where they like to admire and be amused."

Notwithstanding the time he spent in society,
he still found leisure to write; and in 1833 he
had penned four thousand lines of a revolution-
ary epic, which could not be completed under
thirty thousand lines. The idea of this poem
first came to him on the windy plain of Troy ;
he thought the conception sublime, but, on con-

LADY BLESSINGTON 255

sideration, admitted that all depended on the exe-
cution. To his friend, Mrs. Austin, whom he
had consulted during the progress of "Vivian
Grey," he now communicated news of this poem,
when, ever anxious to aid him, she arranged that
he should dine with her, and afterward try the
effect of his revolutionary epic on her guests.
To this he willingly consented, and the dinner
took place in the middle of January, 1834.

When the time came for him to read his can-
tos, he stood upon the hearth, facing those selected
to have the privilege of hearing them. It was
necessary, he thought, first to explain that all
great works that had formed an epoch in the
history of human intellect had been an embodi-
fi cation of the spirit of the age. An heroic
age produced in the Iliad an heroic poem; the
foundation of the empire of the Caesars produced
in the ^Eneid a political poem ; the Reformation
and its consequences produced, in the " Para-
dise Lost " a religious poem. Since the revolt
of America a new principle had been at work
in the world, to which he would trace all that
occurs.

"This is the revolutionary principle," he said,
"and this what I wish to embody in the revolu-
tionary epic, and I imagine the genius of feudal-
ism, and the genius of federation appearing before
the Almighty throne, and pleading their respective
and antagonistic causes."

256 THE MOST GORGEOUS

A writer who was present had better be allowed
to describe the scene.

" Standing with his back to the fire, he proceeded in his
usual grandiloquent style, and with his usual solemn ges-
ture, to ask why, as the heroic age had produced its Homer,
the Augustan era its Virgil, the Renaissance its Dante, the
Reformation its Milton, should not the revolutionary epoch
in which we live produce its representative poet? The
scene was one not to be forgotten by those who witnessed
it. There was something irresistibly comic in the young
man dressed in the fantastic, coxcombical costume that
he then affected — velvet coat of an original cut, thrown
wide open, and ruffles to its sleeves, shirt collars turned
down in Byronic fashion, an elaborately embroidered waist-
coat whence issued voluminous folds of frill, and shoes
adorned with red rosettes — his black hair pomatumed
and elaborately curled, and his person redolent with per-
fume — announcing himself as the Homer or Dante of
the age."

How it was received we are not told ; but what-
ever favourable impression it may have made was
instantly destroyed ; for no sooner had Disraeli
hastened away to some great reception, than a
mimic, assuming the voice and attitude of the
poet, declaimed an impromptu burlesque of the
opening lines, which caused infinite merriment to
all present. What can withstand ridicule ? As
for the poem, it fell flat upon publication, and was
soon forgotten. Henceforth his poetical composi-
tions were reserved for Lady Blessington's " Book
of Beauty."

LADY BLESSINGTON 257

His constant appearance in society gave him
ample opportunity of falling in love, of which he
persistently refused to avail himself. With all the
romance and poetry of his character, he seemed
somewhat cynical regarding this emotion. Once

he asks his sister how she would like Lady Z

for a sister-in-law. "Very clever, and twenty-five
thousand pounds. As for love, all my friends
who married for love and beauty either beat their
wives, or live apart from them. This is literally
the case. I may commit many follies in life, but
I never intend to marry for love, which I am sure
is a guarantee of infelicity."

But though he could keep out of love, he could
not keep free from debt. His election expenses,
his manner of living, and bills which he had backed
for friends who were unable to meet them, weighed
him heavily. He considered that a poet, suddenly
disturbed in the midst of the rapture of creation
by a dunning letter, was an object of pity ; he
complained of the cruelty of having his powers
marred at a moment when he believed they might
produce something great and lasting ; and at times
he dreaded to leave the house on account of the
Philistines who were lying in wait for him.

CHAPTER XII.

Edward Lytton Bulwer — Gambling in Paris — Love and Mar-
riage — First Novels — Lady Blessington Reads " Pelham " —
Interview with an Eccentric Architect — Bulwer's Letters to
His Mother — Hard Work and Bitter Criticism — Sets out for
Italy with Introductions from Lady Blessington — His Opin-
ion of Landor — Writes from Naples — Letters from Landor
and Lady Blessington.

FRIEND of Lady Blessington' s,
scarcely less interesting or distin-
guished than Disraeli, was Edward
Lytton Bulwer, who, in 1831, when in his
twenty-eighth year, became editor of the New
Monthly Magazine. Descended from a family
which, according to its own belief, had been
settled in Norfolk since the Conquest, this mem-
ber was in bearing a dainty patrician, eccentric
in his ideas, and talented. In appearance he
was of ordinary size, his hair light, his eyes pale
blue, his nose prominent, and his mouth full-
lipped.

Being delicate in his youth, he had been edu-
cated by his mother until such time as he ques-
tioned her whether she was " not sometimes
overcome by the sense of her own identity,"

258

LADY BLESSINGTON 259

when she considered it was time he should be
sent to school. His ability was evident from the
beginning, and amongst those who looked forward
to his future with enthusiasm was Doctor Parr, an
intimate of his grandfather, his mother's guardian,
and Lady Blessington's friend. This enthusiasm
was not without foundation ; for at the age of
seventeen he published a volume of poems,
" Ismael ; " and five years later, whilst at Cam-
bridge, he won the Chancellor's medal by a poem
on sculpture.

In 1826, at the age of twenty-three, he had
taken his degree as B. A., and was then launched
in London society, where he was known as "a
finished dandy," and styled by his acquaintances
" Childe Harold." It was in this year that, whilst
in Paris, he visited a gambling-house, where he
spent the night, and, his luck being extraordinary,
left next morning with a large sum in his pocket.
Daylight was creeping into his rooms as he en-
tered them, and, as he went to secure his gains
in his writing-desk, standing upon a consol table
in front of a mirror, he caught sight of his face,
which was not only pale and haggard, but sinister,
distorted by the fever of greed and nervous excite-
ment. The shock this sight caused made him
resolve never again to gamble.

The winnings, however, were invested, and aug-
mented the annuity of two hundred a year he
inherited from his father, and the allowance made

260 THE MOST GORGEOUS

him by his mother, whose estate was at her own
disposal.

Before he had reached his twenty-fifth year
he had married Rosina Doyle Wheeler, an Irish
beauty, clever and witty, with a will and a temper
of her own. But a year before he had declared
that love was dead in him for ever, that the fresh-
ness of his youth lay buried in the grave ; but these
were probably the avowals which the romance of
his temperament inclined him to believe, but which
his subsequent actions led him to belie, for his love
for the woman he afterward made his wife was
sufficiently strong to withstand the opposition of
his mother, to whom he was devotedly attached.

Arguing with her that marriage was "of all
the cases the one in which a difference with
parents is most universally allowed," he goes on
to say that matrimonial philandering has always
appeared to him a contemptible frivolity, that he
was not blind to Rosina's faults, that she was not
to blame if she could not live with her mother, and
that he knew her bringing up had been an unhappy
one, "but it has not deprived her of a mind and
heart, for which I love her far too well to flirt with
her."

This, the first and only difference of his life
with his mother, and perhaps some knowledge of
the unsuitability of the wife he was about to take,
fretted his life at the moment when it should have
been brightest.

LADY BLESSINGTON 261

" Prepare, ma belle amie, prepare," he writes to
his friend, Mrs. Cunningham, three months before
his marriage, " I am going to be married. And
that very soon. My intended is very beautiful,
very clever, very good ; but alas ! the human heart
is inscrutable. I love and am loved. My heart is
satisfied, my judgment, too. If the life before me
is not free from difficulty, anxiety, labour, yet in
the contemplation of these my courage feels only
a consciousness, which should be joyous, of power
to overcome them all. And still I am wretched.
My plan is, after marriage, to hire a large old-
fashioned house I have found in the country,
neither near London nor yet very far from it ;
to live there, in great retirement, for three years,
and give myself wholly up to literature, in which
I hope to earn some of that * breath of fools,' which
the knaves have wisely called Reputation."

The old-fashioned country-house, to which he re-
ferred, was Woodcote, near Pangbourne, to where,
on the 29th of August, 1827, he brought his wife.
Here he began to work systematically as an author,
sitting down to his desk after breakfast and writ-
ing for about three hours daily, composition being
with him, at first, a slow and laborious task which
practice rendered easy and rapid. It was not,
however, merely whilst he had a pen in his hand
that he was working; for during the long walks
and rides he took, his mind was busy in creating
the personages and framing the incidents he after-

262 THE MOST GORGEOUS

ward embodied in his pages. Thought, as he said,
was continually flowing through his mind ; he
scarcely knew a moment in which he was awake
and not thinking. " Nor by thought do I mean
mere reverie or castle-building, but a sustained
process of thinking. I have always in my mind
some distinct train of ideas which I seek to de-
velop, or some positive truth which I am trying
to arrive at. If I lived for a million years, I could
not exhaust a millionth part of my thoughts. I
know that I must be immortal if only because
I think."

In the year in which he married, "Falkland"
was published, a novel he afterward withdrew as
being unworthy of his reputation. At the time it
received little notice from the press, but Colburn,
the publisher, thought it held sufficient promise to
warrant him in offering five hundred pounds to the
author for a novel in three volumes, providing that
work pleased him.

"I will give you one that shall be sure to
succeed," answered Bulwer, who had in his mind
a certain story he had begun a year before, which
he finished a year later, that was ultimately called
" Pelham." When the last lines were written the
manuscript was sent to the publisher, who handed
it to his chief reader, Schubert, by whom it was
emphatically condemned as worthless. It was then
given to a second reader, Oilier, himself an author,
whose favourable criticism induced Colburn to read

LADY BLESSINGTON 263

f

and decide between two conflicting opinions. Three
or four days later he called both readers into his
room, and said, " I have read Mr. Bulwer's novel,
and it's my decided opinion that it will be the book
of the year."

He then sent a clerk with a cheque for the stip-
ulated sum, and to him Bulwer stated that, had the
novel been declined, he would never have written
another, but have devoted himself entirely to poli-
tics. " Pelham " was published anonymously in
June, 1828, at a time when its writer was unac-
quainted with a single critic, and scarcely knew
an author. For at least a couple of months after
its production "it was in a fair way of perishing
prematurely in its cradle," as Bulwer wrote ; for,
with the exception of three encouraging criticisms,
it was received with indifference or abuse by the
reviewers. By degrees, however, it won its way to
popularity, and presently created a sensation, not
only in London, but in Paris, where it became a
text-book about English society in the cafes, clubs,
and salons.

It was whilst living in the French capital that
Lady Blessington read the novel with intense in-
terest, and recorded her opinion of its striking
cleverness. The novel, with its epigrammatic style,
its foppish hero, its knowledge of society, its satire,
philosophy, and flippancy, was new to the town,
and as such was resented by the critics and wel-
comed by the readers. At dinner-tables and in

264 THE MOST GORGEOUS

drawing-rooms it was the chief topic of conversa-
tion ; speculations and bets were made regarding
its author, whose name soon became known. Then
followed shoals of letters ; congratulations from
friends, offers from publishers, comments from the
unknown ; and at least one substantial proof of
admiration from a fair admirer, the anonymous gift
of " an enormous gold dressing-case, elaborately
fitted up with every conceivable requirement for
the toilet of an exquisite."

One of the most remarkable effects the book
produced, perhaps one to be regretted, was to ban-
ish the fashion of wearing coloured coats for even-
ing dress, which was then the custom, " Pelham "
having introduced black. A second notable effect
was the effacement of the Byronic air of foppery,
which then pbtained, young men of taste and
fashion being at this time in the habit of posing
as gloomy heroes with haunting memories, the
perpetrators of dark crimes, the victims of un-
quenchable sorrows. The new form of foppery
which such youths followed had for its aim affec-
tation, assurance, dandyism, the qualities which
made " Pelham " a favourite with the opposite
sex.

Meanwhile, Bulwer went steadily on at his
literary work, writing for magazines and reviews,
besides penning another novel, " The Disowned,"
which appeared in December, 1828 ; which, though
he considered it far inferior to " Pelham," met with

LADY BLESSINGTON 265

a much more favourable reception from the critics.
For this book he received eight hundred pounds.

The requirements of his work necessitating con-
tinual visits to London, he resolved to leave Wood-
cote, and settle in town. In the autumn of 1829
he moved from his country residence, and took
Vine Cottage, Fulham, for a short time, whilst
looking out for a suitable home in London. This
he seemed to find in a house in Hertford Street,
regarding which he could not come to terms with
the landlord, Mr. Nash, a fashionable architect,
and an eccentric man.

As he seemed obstinate and unreasonable to
Bulwer, his wife resolved to accompany him when
next he visited Nash, to see if their united efforts
could better succeed with him. "We found that
worthy," she says, in a lively letter to a friend,
"seated in his own splendid library, or rather
gallery, which is half a mile long, and done in
mosaic to imitate the Vatican. He was more
obstinate than ever, declaring with an oath that he
would not abate a farthing, and then he changed
the subject.

" At last he said, ' Pray, sir, are you any relation
to that wonderful young man who has written the
delightful novel of « Pelham ? " '

" ' Allow me,' said I, * Mr. Nash, to introduce
you to that wonderful young man.'

"Upon which Nash jumped up, made Edward a
low bow, and said, ' Well, then, sir, for " Pelham's "

266 THE MOST GORGEOUS

sake you must have the house on your own terms,
and I'll make it one of the handsomest houses in
town for you, with the best library. And if you
ever again write anything half as good as " Pelham,"
by God, I shall be glad to think I planned the
room you wrote it in.'

" After this fine speech he offered Edward casts
from all his statues, showed us all over his house,
or rather palace, and finished off by throwing
open the doors of another suite of rooms, where,
ensconced in her domestic bower, sat Mrs.
Nash.

" ' My dear,' he exclaimed, ' I have brought the
author of " Pelham," and his wife, for you to
look at/

"Thereupon we put out our paws, wagged our
tongues (in default of tails), and walked up and
down in the most docile manner, to be stared at as
the first Pelham and Pelhamess ever caught alive
in this country.

"At this juncture of affairs old Nash began to
fumble in his pockets (which he has a great trick
of doing). ' Oh, never mind paying now,' said I,
' I'll take the bronze chimneypiece to my boudoir
instead.' 'Very well,' he replied, laughingly. 'So
you shall, and anything else you like.'

" And so I hope at least that Edward will take
the house, and that this matter is settled."

All this while his mother, who had objected to
his marriage, had refused to become reconciled

LADY BLESSINGTON 267

to his wife. The elder lady was perhaps sore that
her prediction had not come true, which was that,
if he married Rosina Wheeler, he would be, " at a
year's end, the most miserable of men." Stern,
with an exaggerated sense of what was due to her-
self, she had not only continued to ignore her
daughter-in-law, but for a time had declined to
answer her son's letters ; had sent him messages
of the most uncompromising nature, and couched
in the most contemptuous terms ; had returned
every memorial of him, "as if," he tells her, "to
exclude from your house every relic, and from your
thoughts every remembrance, of me."

In vain he wrote her affectionate, appealing,
and respectful letters, sent her copies of the
books which made him famous, and informed her
of the birth of his child ; the result was the same.
So long as he and his wife remained in the coun-
try, her resentment was not so public and mor-
tifying; but having taken up their residence in
town, where she lived for part of the year, her
estrangement became more insulting to his wife.

"The affront I complain of is this," he writes
from Hertford Street. " I live in the same town
with you. You refuse to visit my wife or enter
my house. My brother also displeased you by his
marriage ; but you enter his house and visit his
wife. You say you distinguish between the two
cases. But the world cannot take the trouble to
understand such a distinction. It merely sees

268 THE MOST GORGEOUS

that the two brothers, being both of age, and hav-
ing both married gentlewomen, you are sufficiently
reconciled to our marriages to see both William
and myself, but that your visiting the wife of one,
and not the wife of the other, is a marked insult
to the wife unvisited."

This argument, and others which were used
at the same time, had their effect in inducing
his mother to visit his wife. From the date
of his wedding he had resigned the large allow-
ance his mother had made him, saying, " As I bake
so will I brew." In order to support the position
in which he thought it necessary to live, and which
was maintained at a cost of about three thousand
a year, he had laboured until the strain of the
most trying of all occupations began to undermine
his health. On her reconciliation to him, his allow-
ance was restored by his mother, and accepted by
him with the warmest gratitude.

The day came when the novelist's mother visited
his wife. The meeting was unsatisfactory ; for the
younger woman, being nervous, feared to show cor-
diality, and perhaps failed to conceal her resent-
ment, whilst the elder woman considered she did
not meet with the submission she expected ; the
result being that when Bulwer, " ready to drop
with sickness and exhaustion," called on his
mother, she complained of his wife's reception
of her, and, in answer to his remonstrance, re-
minded him that she maintained his wife.

LADY BLESSINGTON 269

This thrust not only caused him to renounce
the allowance, but on his return home to pay over
the money she already had transferred to his
account. In acquainting her with this fact in a
long letter, he says he did not consider her allow-
ance in the light of maintenance, for that he re-
quired from no human being. " My own exertions
had, and my own exertions yet could maintain me
and mine in all we required. I took it in this light
(and in this light I thought it was given), that
whereas I could alone and always, but only by
labour, confinement, and great mental anxiety,
make more than a thousand a year, it was your
wish, in offering me this sum, not to maintain me,
for I was then (and for nearly three years I had
been) maintaining myself, but to save me from
that labour, confinement, and mental anxiety by
which alone I could continue to do so."

He therefore went to work again, and on the
7th of July, 1829, when he was just six and twenty,
he published " Devereux," which brought him the
sum of fifteen hundred pounds. Before twelve
months elapsed he had produced another novel,
" Paul Clifford," a work whose avowed pur-
pose it was "to draw attention to two errors in
our penal institutions, viz., a vicious prison dis-
cipline, and a sanguinary penal code." This was
in 1830, and the following year he became mem-
ber of Parliament for Ives and editor of the New
Monthly Magazine.

270 THE MOST GORGEOUS

By this time his mother had again become
reconciled to him and his wife, and had once
more offered him an allowance which he steadily
declined. The strain upon him was now greater
than ever, added to which he had to endure con-
stant and bitter anonymous attacks in journals
and papers, the general tone of which may be
gauged from a few sentences of a letter addressed
to him in Fraser's Magazine for December, 1831,
a periodical which had already grossly abused him.
"Nobody," says the writer, "knows better than
yourself that to make a fashionable novel all that
is required is a tolerable acquaintance with foot-
men and butlers. This will supply the high life.
The meanness of the characters introduced, you
may draw from yourself. . . . My dear Bulwer,
this writing of yours is bitter bad, it is jejune,
base twaddle; twaddle, I say, Bulwer, twaddle.
Your paltry, grovelling productions have not the
power of influencing the opinion of a lady's lap-
dog. ... I think you a deserving young person,
whom Nature intended for a footman, and I pity
you accordingly for having missed your vocation."

Little wonder that he appeared to a visitor who
stayed in his house "like a man who has been
flayed, and is sore all over." His health threat-
ened to give way, and in the year above named,
his wife, writing to his mother, says she fears there
is no chance of him getting better, " for he under-
takes a degree of labour that positively, without

LADY BLESSINGTON 271

exaggeration, no three persons could have the
health and time to achieve. So incessantly is he
occupied that I seldom or never see him till about
two or three in the morning, for five minutes.
And it is of no use for me to tell him that he will
only defeat all the objects of his life, by attempt-
ing more than he can compass. Poor fellow, my
remonstrances only irritate him."

Lady Blessington made the acquaintance of
Bulwer in 1832, whilst he was editor of the
magazine in which her " Conversations " were
running. Under his management this publica-
tion, which was issued at three and sixpence a
number, and was largely supported by clergymen
and county families, became radical in its politics,
the result being that its circulation fell from
five to four thousand. As a consequence, the
publisher no longer desired to retain Bulwer as
editor when the twelve months terminated for
which he had been engaged.

Nor was Bulwer on his part sorry to resign the
cares of editorship. His health being now over-
taxed by work, he was ordered to travel, when
he resolved to visit Italy, taking with him his
wife, who was beginning to suffer from his cap-
tious temper, produced by exhausted nerves, and
to resent the neglect caused by absorption in his
work.

Lady Blessington willingly gave him advice
regarding the country he was about to visit, and

272 THE MOST GORGEOUS

likewise furnished him with letters of introduc-
tion to various distingushed friends of hers living
in Italy. One of these was to Landor, which the
author of " Pelham " in due time presented, to be
received with extreme kindness. In writing to
Lady Blessington of Landor, Bulwer said, " One
is at home instantly with men of genius ; their
oddities, their humours, don't put one out half
so much as the formal regularity of your half-
clever prigs.

"But Landor, thanks to your introduction, had
no humours, no oddities for me. He invited me
to his villa, which is charmingly situated, and
smoothed himself down so much that I thought
him one of the best bred men I ever met, as
well as one of the most really able ; pity, never-
theless, so far as his talent is concerned, that he
pets paradoxes so much ; he keeps them as other
people keep dogs, coaxes them, plays with them,
and now and then sets them to bite a disagree-
able intruder."

Another letter of introduction, which Lady
Blessington gave to Bulwer, was addressed to
her old friend, Sir William Gell, then at Naples,
who at once asked Mr. and Mrs. Bulwer to
breakfast. The invitation was gladly accepted,
and they arrived at his villa before he was quite
ready to receive them ; but from his own room
he heard them exclaim, "Oh, you dear creature,"
words which were not addressed to him, but to

LADY BLESSINGTON 273

one of his dogs, who had gone to see who had
arrived. Presently Sir William was wheeled into
the room, and breakfast was announced.

"We got on very well," he told Lady Bless-
ington, "and they ate macaroni with great suc-
cess, and positively bought a dog of the same
species as mine before they went home, of a
black colour, which they christened Lucio, and
carried off to their lodgings. I have had a note
from each of them since, and on Sunday I am
to meet them at dinner at Mr. Cravens's, for
whom, I believe, you gave them also a letter.
I have also told Lady Drummond to invite them
to dinner, which she has promised to do; and
so thus far I hope they will feel satisfied with
my little attentions, bestowed according to your
orders."

Bulwer, on his part, wrote to Lady Blessington,
that he found her friend surrounded by his dogs,
"amidst which he wheels himself about (for he
is entirely unable to stand) in his large chair, and
seems to enjoy life, enough to make a man in the
possession of his limbs hang himself with envy."
Bulwer never knew so petted and so popular a
man ; every one seemed to love him, " yet there
is something artificial and cold about him."

Though Bulwer had left England in August,
he did not reach Naples until November, he
having travelled with leisurely ease through a
country which did not fail to give him the rest

274 THE MOST GORGEOUS

he needed, and later to afford the inspiration
which in his exhausted condition he had not
hoped to find again ; for at Rome he conceived
the idea of writing his novel, " Rienzi," whilst
Naples and its adjoining buried city suggested
to him his magnificent romance, "The Last Days
of Pompeii."

Writing to Lady Blessington on the 26th of
November, he says :

"Behold me then at Naples, beautiful, enchanting,
delicious Naples, the only city in all Italy (except old
Verona, whose gable ends and motley architecture and
hanging balconies still speak of Shakespeare and of
Romeo) which is quite to my heart. I freeze in the
desolate dulness of Rome, with its prosing antiquaries
and insolent slaves. In Venice, I fancy myself on board
a ship, viz., " in a prison with the chance of being drowned."
In Florence, I recognise a bad Cheltenham. In Naples,
I for the first time find my dreams of Italy.

" Your magic extends even here, and the place to
which you have given me letters of introduction seems
to catch a charm from your beauty, and an endearment
from your kindness. What a climate and what a sea!
the humour and gaiety of the people delight me. I should
be in paradise if it were not for the mosquitoes. But
these in truth are terrible tormentors ; they even seem to
accustom themselves to me, and behave with the polite
indifference of satiety; they devour me piecemeal; they
are worse than a bad conscience, and never let me sleep
at nights. I am told for my comfort, that when the cold
weather comes they will vanish, and leave me alternating
between the desire to enjoy the day and the hope to rest
at night."

LADY BLESSINGTON 275

In another letter he tells her he hears no news
and reads no papers. Dumb were to him the
new oracles of his old magazine. Politics reach
him not, and he missed the roar of London. " I
feel how much," he says, "while I have joked
at the English I love England ; what a country,
what force, what energy, what civilisation ! How
it shames the talkative slaves here."

Walter Savage Landor was also writing to her
from the same country. She had already told him of
her appointment as editor of the " Book of Beauty,"
certain that he would rejoice in aught that affected
her for good ; and later she asked him for a contri-
bution to that annual, whereon he writes :

"Your letter, like a talisman, brought me into
your presence. I will not swear that I cried
aloud, 'You shall be obeyed,' but that you are,
the sonnet within will vouch for me," and then
he proceeds to tell her of his own work. " I
happened to have these two 'Conversations' in
the number of those which I once intended to
publish. People have got lately so many better
things, that I have been obliged to add another
seven hundred to a debt of twenty-four thousand,
in order that my publisher might not be a loser
by me. He had made an improvident bargain, to
share in the profits or loss. Now, a little im-
providence added to mine is no more important
than a little debt added to it ; but with him it
must be otherwise. Enough of this."

276 THE MOST GORGEOUS

This letter, which is dated March, 1833, reached
Lady Blessington at a time when she was particu-
larly busy ; for, writing to a correspondent, she
mentions that she has six hundred pages to write
and compose between the 4th and the last day
of the month, for a work which, unless completed
by that period, she forfeits an engagement ; the
work being the " Repealers," which, as already
mentioned, was published in June.

In the following month the Countess Guiccioli
had been summoned to Ravenna, where her young-
est sister, a girl of thirteen, was dying of consump-
tion. A few days after the arrival of the contessa,
freedom came to the child, who was " une jeune fille
charmante, remplie de talens, donte d'une beaute1
non commune, et je faimais tendrement. Vous
pouvez done vous imaginer, ma chere Lady Bless-
ington" writes the contessa, " comme sa perte a
du maffliger"

Lady Blessington's reply to this communication
will, more than any words a biographer could use,
show the sympathy she possessed.

" My dear Madame Guiccioli," it begins, " I
have learned with deep regret the affliction that
has fallen on your domestic circle, an affliction
which few are so calculated to feel in all its bitter-
ness as yourself. While I was accusing you of
forgetting your friends in England, which would
be, indeed, ungrateful, as they do not cease to
remember you with affection, you were in grief,

LADY BLESSINGTON 277

and absorbed too much by the recollection of
what you had lost, to be blamed for forgetting the
friends who still remain. Alas, chhe amie, it is
not until we have lost those we loved that we feel
all their value. Memory feeds on grief, and calls
up looks and voices that we can see or hear no
more on earth, but that, brought back by memory,
have power to make us forget for a few moments
the painful present, in the happier past.

" I do not seek to offer you vain consolation,
because I too well know its inefficiency, and you
have been too highly tried in affliction not to have
learned its bitter lesson, — submission.

" I hope we shall see you in England next year ;
you have left behind you too agreeable an impres-
sion for those who have had the pleasure of know-
ing you not to desire to see you here again ; and
among your friends no one more anxiously desires
it than myself. London has been very full, but
not very gay this season. Our opera has been
brilliant, and offered a galaxy of talent such as we
never had before. Pasta, Malibran, Tamburini,
Rubini, Donzelli, and a host of minor stars, with a
corps de ballet, with Taglioni at their head, who
more than redeemed their want of excellency. I
did not miss a single night, and was amply repaid
by the pleasure I received.

" You are so kind as to wish me to tell you of
myself, and, therefore, I must play the egotist. My
health has been good, and I have written a polit-

278 THE MOST GORGEOUS

ical novel, which appeared in June, with the recep-
tion of which I have every reason to be satisfied,
and for which I got a good sum.

" I am now coming forth with a very beautiful
work, called ' The Book of Beauty ; ' I say beauti-
ful, as it is to be embellished with fine engravings
from beautiful female portraits, illustrated by tales
in prose and verse, to which many of my literary
friends have kindly contributed. You see, my
dear countess, that I have not been idle since
I saw you ; but the truth is I like occupation,
and find it the best cure for banishing painful
retrospections.

"Mr. Bulwer set off yesterday for Italy, and
will visit Rome and Naples. I saw Mr. Moore
three days ago, and he inquired very kindly for
you; and I saw Campbell lately, who does not
forget you. I wish you would send me a little
Italian tale in prose, or verse, for my book. I
know you could if you would, but I fear you are
too idle. I trust you go on with the ' Memoirs '
you promised to write. It would amuse and in-
struct you, and would be highly gratifying to the
world. Pray write to me often, and your letters
shall be punctually answered."

Before this year ended, Landor wrote Lady
Blessington a letter burning with indignation. He
had evidently heard or read a false rumour of
the demise of Gillman, in whose house Samuel
Taylor Coleridge lived, from 1816 till his death,

LADY BLESSINGTON 279

which occurred before that of his benefactor.
Therefore, Landor writes :

" I find that Coleridge has lost the beneficent friend at
whose house he lived. George the Fourth, the vilest
wretch in Europe, gave him one hundred pounds a year,
enough, in London, to buy three turnips and half an egg
a day. Those men surely were the most dexterous of
courtiers, who resolved to show William that his brother
was not the vilest, by dashing the half egg and three tur-
nips from the plate of Coleridge. No such action as this
is recorded of any administration in the British annals, and
I am convinced that there is not a state in Europe, or Asia,
in which the paltriest minister, or the puniest despot,
would recommend it. I am sorry that Lord Althorpe, who
speaks like a gentleman, should be implicated in a charge
so serious, though he and his colleagues are likely to
undergo the popular vengeance for less grave offences."

The fact that so justly roused Landor 's wrath
on this occasion was that "the permanent hono-
rarium " of a hundred guineas each, per annum,
which George the Fourth assured to ten royal
associates of the Society of Literature, was ab-
ruptly discontinued on his death. For William
the Fourth declared he "was too poor, and had
too many nearer claims upon the privy purse "
to keep the promise his brother had made.

It was in the month of August, in this year 1833,
that a great loss befell Lady Blessington, when her
house was entered by burglars, who, though unable
to take her plate, pillaged her drawing-room of its
valuable ornaments, such as antique silver snuff-

280 LADY BLESSINGTON

boxes, seals, gold-topped smelling-bottles, and bric-
a-brac, which, for their associations, were beyond
price, but whose intrinsic value was estimated at a
thousand pounds. Every effort to recover her
property was vain, no trace of the robbers could
be discovered. But, many years later, Lady Bless-
ington received a letter from a convict undergoing
penal servitude for life, giving her an account of
the robbery, and stating for her satisfaction that,
when the objects stolen were broken up and sold
for their gold, silver, or jewels, they fetched seven
hundred pounds.

CHAPTER XIII.

Publication of the "Conversations with Lord Byron" — "The
Book of Beauty " — The Pains and Pleasures of Editorship —
Letters from Bulwer, Disraeli, John Kenyon, Monckton Milnes,
Charles Mathews — Landor and His Works — N. P. Willis
Comes to Town — His Impression of Lady Blessington and
Her Friends — Bulwer's Talk — Disraeli's Correspondence —
Henry Bulwer — Letter from Lady Blessington.

JHE " Conversations with Lord Byron "
were published in volume form in the
spring of 1834, and created a great deal
of attention. A double interest was centred in the
book because of its writer and its subject. It was
generally considered valuable, for the insight it
afforded into an individuality so complex as that of
the poet ; but there were some critics who, without
evidence, stated that Byron had not extended to
her the friendship she described, and that she had
merely drawn on her imagination for the material
she supplied. Such assertions, made to disparage
the writer and injure her book, failed to have the
vicious effect desired ; for the " Conversations "
were widely read, much praised, and added to her
literary reputation.

281

282 THE MOST GORGEOUS

The " Book of Beauty " for 1834, which was the
first to appear under her editorship, likewise proved
a success. Its value was enhanced to many be-
cause of the portrait of herself, drawn by Parris,
which it contained. Another of its engravings was
called Francesca. Writing to her in February of
this year, to acknowledge the receipt of a copy
which she sent him, Landor states that "by a
strange fatality " it reached him on his birthday.
"Mr. Seymour," he says, "is both a polite and a
friendly man, yet I cannot imagine that he detained
it a single day in his office, for the sake of anima-
ting me upon the day when I am always more
melancholy than upon any other, — serious, I should
say, not melancholy.

"The book is indeed the 'Book of Beauty/
both inside and outside. Nevertheless, I must
observe that neither here nor in any other en-
graving do I find a resemblance of you. I do not
find the expression. Lawrence has not succeeded
either, unless you have the gift of changing it
almost totally. The last change in that case was
for the better, — but pray stay there.

"I have a little spite against the frontispiece,
and am resolved to prefer Francesca. If I had
seen such a person any time toward the close of
the last century, I am afraid I should have been
what some rogue called me upon a very different
occasion, much later, mat to ! ma matto ! Age
breaks down the prison in which beauty has en-

LADY BLESSINGTON 283

thralled us : but I suspect there are some of us,
like the old fellow let loose from the Bastille, who
would gladly get in again, were it possible."

The annual was printed, though not* issued in
London, in the middle of the year, for the purpose
of exportation to America, India, and the colonies,
where it reached by December and enjoyed a wide
circulation. It therefore had to be made up early
in the summer, and throughout the spring its edi-
tor was bugily employed in consultations with the
publishers, and in writing to authors, artists, and
engravers. The process of making up the annual,
was generally to select pictures and portraits, en-
graved copies of which were forwarded to writers,
asking them to supply tales or poems to the illus-
trations. For such purpose, Lady Blessington
and her niece, Marguerite Power, who had a re-
markably fluent style, wrote innumerable verses
and sketches. The book also contained articles
and essays independent to the plates.

Some of the difficulties and pleasures which the
editing of this annual brought Lady Blessington
may be gauged from her voluminous correspond-
ence, which covers a number of years.

Throughout all her dealings with contributors
her courtesy was unfailing, and went far toward
pacifying the injured vanity of writers whose effu-
sions she was obliged to reject. This was the
more grateful to authors, who at this time were
not accustomed to consideration. One of the

284 THE MOST GORGEOUS

women who edited a rival annual used to boast
that when an author, weary of expecting an answer
to his letters, called in person to demand his manu-
script, she " sent down a drawer full of detached
manuscripts to him in her hall, desiring he would
take what he pleased ; " a piece of vulgarity Lady
Blessington was not likely to imitate.

From this correspondence referred to, it may
be learned that young Charles Mathews sent her a
love poem, which she was obliged to decline, but
she does so in a manner that could not but have
pleased him by the confidence and appreciation it
expressed.

"A thousand thanks, my dear Charles," she
says, "for the verses, which are beautiful, but,
alas, a leetle too warm for the false prudency of
the public taste. Were I to insert them, I should
have a host of hypercritical hypocrites attacking
the warmth of the sentiments of the lines, and the
lady editor ; and therefore I must ask you to give
me a tale, or verses more prudish, — prettier ones
you can hardly give me.

" I have been so long a mark for the arrows of
slander and attack that I must be more particular
than any one else ; and your pretty verses, which
in any of the annuals could not fail to be
admired, would in a book edited by me draw
down attacks. I keep the verses, for they are
too beautiful not to find a place in my album.
What a misery it is, my dear Charles, to live in

LADY BLESSINGTON 285

an age when one must make such sacrifices to
cant and false delicacy, and against one's own
judgment and taste."

Then George Cattermole begs her to honour
him with a visit, that he may submit two drawings
to her notice ; Harry Chester, writing on Privy
Council office paper, wishes to be informed if the
"Book of Beauty" is open to his contributions,
and, if so, what she pays for poetical effusions ; for
this young gentleman has written "some lines
which have been approved by those who have seen
them, — a hundred lines rhyming upon a woman's
name," — and he had been recommended to offer
them to her. Again, a friend wants to know if
she would not like " a little Russian contribution
from Lady Londonderry, very pretty and pictur-
esque, and written with great simplicity."

To Captain Marry at she tells something of her
bothers.

" I have seldom," she writes, " been more an-
noyed than on receiving the enclosed, half an hour
ago. I had thought that, with the omission of the
objectionable word, the story, which is full of racy
humour, would have been a real treasure for the
book, but the ridiculous prudery of a pack of fools
compels me to abandon it ; for well do I know,
that, were I to insist on the insertion of the ' Buck-
skins,' Heath and his trustees — should the sale of
the book be less than formerly — would attribute
it to you and me.

286 THE MOST GORGEOUS

" After all the trouble I have given you, I dare
not ask for anything else, tho' there is no name
which I would be more proud to see in my list of
contributors than yours ; but I must ask you to
pardon me for the trouble I have inflicted on you,
and to believe me," etc.

There were, of course, compensations for anxi-
eties and disappointments in the courtesies she re-
ceived from her friends and contributors. Young
Disraeli, in a letter which bears no date, beginning
" My dear Lady," tells her, " I shod be mortified
if the ' Book of Beauty ' appeared with* my contri-
bution, howr trifling. I have something on the
stocks for you, but it is too elaborate to finish well
in the present tone of my mind ; but if you like
a Syrian sketch of four or five pages, you shall
have it in two or three days."

Later, he sends as a contribution, "a literary
arabesque which is indeed nonsense. If worthy
of admission it might close the volume, as fairies
and fireworks dance and glitter in the last scene
of a fantastic entertainment. I wish," he adds,
" my contribution were worthier, but I get duller
every day."

Then John Kenyon, the poet, sends her a few
stanzas, — "a peppercorn offering " as he writes,
"which perhaps I am, after all, not justified in
doing, for probably the Muses, like other ladies,
should wait till they are asked. I have endeav-
oured to condense into them the associations

LADY BLESSINGTON 287

which grow out of Italy. Who can judge better
than you can whether I have succeeded well or
ill? But do not, I beg of you, think yourself
bound to accept my offering. I shall not turn
vindictive like Cain, though your discretion may
refuse it. I shall still continue to think the
verses excellent verses, and only conceit that they
do not happen to suit your particular views for this
year's book ; and you will have too much courtesy
and kindliness to clear away my delusion."

Monckton Milnes, afterward Lord Houghton,
reminds her that, months before, he had given her
an Irish ballad, which had not appeared. " If you
want any second piece," he writes, "it is at your
service, but I had better not give it unless you
want it, as your publishers had last year the
trouble of printing a poem which turned out to
have been published before."

Then Lord John Manners, afterward seventh
Duke of Rutland, says, in a charming little note :
"You will laugh when I tell you that I have for
several days been bothering my brains at your
request, having literally not written one line since
I published my little volume. I am really and
truly ashamed of sending such doggerel, but do
in all honesty implore you not to insert the ac-
companying stanzas if you have anything else
wherewith to supply their place."

And all the way from Hartford, Connecticut,
Mrs. Sigourney, the poetess, writes that she has

288 THE MOST GORGEOUS

seen the " Book of Beauty " and the " Keepsake,"
an annual which was subsequently edited by Lady
Blessington, "embellishing the centre-tables of
some of our aristocracy ; for we are not so pure a
republic as to have no shadow of aristocracy,
and we give too much prominence, perhaps, to
that which is based solely on wealth. The beauty
of your engravings " she continues, " might almost
discourage our attempt at annuals on this side of
the water. I searched, and read first, all from
your pen which those volumes contained. Is the
Miss Power who has written an interesting article
in the ' Keepsake ' one of those beautiful nieces
whom I met at your house ? "

Bulwer writes that he cannot disguise he has
strong objections to contributing to annuals, for
if he writes for one, he is immediately entangled
by others, who, less kind than Lady Blessington,
take a refusal as a deadly offence. Therefore,
knowing she greatly exaggerated the value of his
assistance, he could have wished to be a reader of
the " Book of Beauty " rather than a contributor.

" But the moment you seriously ask me to aid
you," he continues, " and gravely convince your-
self that I can be of service, all objection vanishes.
I owe to you a constant, a generous, a forbearing
kindness, which nothing can repay ; but which it
delights me to prove that I can at least remem-
ber. And consequently you will enroll me at
once amongst your ministering genii of the lamp.

LADY BLESSINGTON 289

" You gave me my choice of verse or prose, — I
should prefer the first ; but consider well whether
it would be of equal service to you. That is my
sole object, and whichever the most conduces to it
will be to me the most agreeable means. You
can therefore consider, and let me know, and lastly,
pray give me all the time you can spare.

%" To prove to you that I am a mercenary ally,
let me name my reward. Will you give me one
of the engravings of yourself in the 'Book of
Beauty ? ' It does not do you justice, it is true, but
I should like to number it amongst those memen-
tos which we keep by us as symbols at once of
reality and the ideal. Alas, all inspiration dies
except that of beauty."

Still untiring, Lady Blessington devoted her-
self to her work, and was now busy in writing a
novel called "The Two Friends," which was pub-
ished in the following year. The reward of her
labours enabled her at this period to meet her
expenses, and to aid the relatives who depended
on her. She also made efforts toward rescuing
Count D' Orsay from the mire of debt into which
he was continually plunging, — though her efforts
usually were made in vain. " I am delighted to
see," writes Sir William Cell to her, "that the
spirit of order you always possessed, and which
has done so much good on other occasions, has
enabled you to take care of such of your friends
as have less foresight than yourself."

290 THE MOST GORGEOUS

Meanwhile her correspondence with her friends
continued, she finding leisure to help them when
they needed her aid.

In a letter dated April 8, 1834, Landor tells
her that for some time past he has been compos-
ing "The Citation and Examination of Wil.
Shakespeare, Euseby Treen, Joseph Carneby, and
Silas Gough, before the Worshipful Sir Thomas
Lucy, Knight, touching deer-stalking, on the iQth
day of September, in the year of grace 1582, now
first published from original papers."

"This is full of fun," he writes; "I know not
whether of wit. It is the only thing I ever wrote
that is likely to sell. It contains about three hun-
dred pages. If I send it, will you have the kind-
ness to offer it to Colburn, not as mine, — though
probably he may recollect my handwriting. If he
prints it, he shall give me two hundred pounds for
it. No other publisher can give it so extensive a
circulation, otherwise I would rather burn it than
he should have it."

In May of the same year he gives a letter of
introduction to be presented to her by N. P. Willis,
" an American gentleman attached to the legation
at Paris." It is not, however, in that character
Landor wishes to introduce him, " but in that of
the best poet the New World has produced in any
part of it." He adds that Mr. Willis will bring
her the "Examination of Shakespeare." "If you
offer it to Colburn, pray do nothing more. It is

LADY BLESSINGTON 291

the only thing I ever wrote that ever can be pop-
ular. I will venture a wager that two thousand
copies are sold in six months. I expect the man
to give me two hundred pounds. However, two
hundred pounds are not worth two hundred words
from you. Do not spend upon it more than half
a dozen, when your notepaper lies before you."

Colburn, however, would have nothing to do
with the " Examination ; " learning which, Lady
Blessington sent for Mr. Otley, member of the
publishing firm of Saunders & Otley, whom she
thought likely to produce it, and Mr. Otley was
willing to bring out the work, the profits of which
were to be devoted to a friend of the author.
When, however, Landor next writes, he tells her
his zeal has quite evaporated for the man he hoped
to benefit by the publication. " I find," he says,
" my old schoolfellow (whom, by the bye, I never
knew, but who placed enough confidence in me to
beg my assistance in his distress) has been gaming.
Had he even tried but a trifle of assassination, I
should have felt for him ; or, in fact, had he done
almost anything else. But to rely on superior skill
in spoliation is less pardonable than to rely on
superior courage, or than to avenge an affront in
a sudden and summary way.

"Now a thousand thanks for the trouble you
have taken. MM. Saunders and Otley ought to
hazard nothing by me. I hope they hazard little.
It would be dishonourable in me to accept all they

292 THE MOST GORGEOUS

offer. I will not take the entire profits. I will
take half, and shall be glad if they begin to print
the volume as soon as they conveniently can. I
will pay for the dozen copies I give my friends, for
I really have a dozen of one kind or other."

The letter of introduction which Landor had
given to N. P. Willis was duly presented on that
individual's arrival in London. Willis, who was
then in his twenty-eighth year, had begun life as
a typesetter in the office of his father, the editor
and proprietor of The Recorder and The Youths
Companion. A remarkably smart and enterprising
man, N. P. Willis had, at the age of two and
twenty, established The American Monthly Maga-
zine, which, a couple of years later, was merged
into The New York Mirror.

Whilst connected with these publications he had
written verses and sketches which were highly
praised, and his career was looked forward to as
one of promise. His pen was versatile and fluent,
his nature enthusiastic, refined, and ambitious. And
throughout his youth his eyes had been turned
toward Europe, which he ardently longed to behold.
No sooner, therefore, did circumstances permit,
than, leaving The New York Mirror to the care
of his partner, he crossed the Atlantic, all the
wonders of the Old World to see.

On arriving at Paris he was made an attache*
of the American ministry, a privilege to which no
salary and no responsibility were attached, but

LADY BLESSINGTON 293

which carried with it a certain recommendation
to social circles that would not otherwise be opened
to its holder. N. P. Willis availed himself of
whatever advantage this nominal attacheship pro-
cured him ; and as his income largely depended on
his pen, he, who may be described as the fore-
runner of the personal paragrapher, wrote letters
to his paper, detailing the peculiarities of the dis-
tinguished people he encountered, with a frankness
and freedom which was later to be resented by his
victims.

Personally he was tall and well-formed, with a
round, fresh-coloured, smiling face, the features
small and regular, the eyes light blue and large,
his long hair tinged with red. His manners were
bland, exceedingly pliant, and persuasive. Harriet
Martineau, to whom he was introduced, described
him as a " buxom gentleman," and adds, " There
was something rather engaging in the round face,
brisk air, and enjoueinent of the young man ; but his
conscious dandyism and unparalleled self-compla-
cency spoiled the satisfaction, though they in-
creased the inclination to laugh. He placed
himself in an attitude of infinite ease, and whipped
his little bright boot with a little bright cane."

The pictures he presented to his readers of
Lady Blessington and her circle have the advan-
tage of being painted by one whose nature was
highly impressionable, one to whose attentive eyes
all places and persons in this country were novel.

294 THE MOST GORGEOUS

On the second day after his arrival in London,
he called at Seamore Place at a rather early hour,
and was told by the powdered footman that her
ladyship had not yet come down to breakfast.
With this individual he left his letter of intro-
duction, together with his address, and in the
course of a few hours received an invitation
from Lady Blessington to call that evening at ten
o'clock.

On obeying, he was shown into the library,
" lined alternately with splendidly bound books and
mirrors, and with a deep window of the breadth
of the room opening upon Hyde Park," where
he found the countess alone. "The picture to
my eye," writes the American poet, "as the
door opened, was a very lovely one : a woman of
remarkable beauty, half buried in a fauteuil of
yellow satin, reading by a magnificent lamp sus-
pended from the centre of the arched ceiling ;
sofas, couches, ottomans, and busts arranged in
rather a crowded sumptuousness through the room ;
enamel tables covered with expensive and elegant
trifles in every corner ; and a delicate white hand
relieved on the back of a book, to which the eye
was attracted by the blaze of its diamond rings.
As the servant mentioned my name she rose and
gave me' her hand very cordially."

Their conversation turned on America, and " in
a voice merry and sad by turns, but always musi-
cal," she told him she received a great many letters

LADY BLESSINGTON 295

from his country people, written in the most extra-
ordinary style of compliment, of which she hardly
knew what to make.

He assured her that vast numbers of cultured
people lived in great seclusion in America, and
depended for amusement on books, which led
them to consider the author they admired a per-
sonal friend.

" And do you think," she asked, " these are the
people who write to me ? If I could think so I
should be exceedingly happy. A great proportion
of the people of England are refined down to such
heartlessness ; criticism, private and public, is so
much influenced by politics, that it is really de-
lightful to know there is a more generous tribunal.
Indeed, I think many of our authors now are
beginning to write for America."

She was anxious to know if Bulwer and Disraeli
were popular in the United States, and promised
to introduce him to those writers if he called the
following evening. This of course he did, when
he found " she had deserted her exquisite library
for the drawing-room, and sat in fuller dress, with
six or seven gentlemen around her," to whom he
was presented. Amongst these were James Smith,
hale and handsome, with white hair and a nobly
formed head ; Henry Bulwer, small, slight, and
faintly pitted with smallpox, and Albany Fon-
blanque, proprietor and editor of the Examiner, a
staunch friend of Lady Blessington. N. P. Willis,

296 THE MOST GORGEOUS

in describing this distinguished writer, who was
universally esteemed, says he never saw a worse
face, " sallow, seamed, and hollow, his teeth irregu-
lar, his skin livid, his straight black hair uncombed
and straggling over his forehead. A hollow, croak-
ing voice, and a small, fiery black eye, with a smile
like a skeleton's, certainly did not improve his
physiognomy. He sat upon his chair very awk-
wardly, and was very ill-dressed, but every word
he uttered showed him to be a man of claims very
superior to exterior attraction." The Due de
Richelieu, a German prince with a star upon his
breast, and Count D' Or say, were amongst the
company. Toward midnight Bulwer was an-
nounced, when, with a joyous heartiness like a boy
let out of school, he ran forward to shake hands
with his hostess and her guests, and was intro-
duced to Willis, who found his voice "lover-like
and sweet," and his conversation "gay, quick,
various, half-satirical, and always fresh and differ-
ent from everybody else. He seemed to talk
because he could not help it, and infected every-
body with his spirits."

As to his personal appearance, Willis described
him as " short, very much bent in the back, slightly
knock-kneed, and as ill-dressed a man for a gentle-
man as you will find in London. His figure is
slight and very badly put together, and the only
commendable point in his person was the smallest
foot I ever saw a man stand upon." His head was

LADY BLESSINGTON 297

phrenologically a fine one, but his forehead, though
broad, retreated very much. His nose was aqui-
line, far too large for proportion, " though he con-
ceals its extreme prominence in an immense pair
of red whiskers, which entirely conceal the lower
part of his face in profile." His complexion was
fair, his auburn hair profuse, his eye not remark-
able, and his mouth contradictory, whilst " a more
good-natured, habitually smiling, nerveless expres-
sion could hardly be imagined."

Again the question of his popularity in America
became the subject of conversation, when Lady
Blessington proposed to take him to that country
and exhibit him at so much a head. She asked
Willis if he did not think it would be a good specu-
lation, to which he replied that, provided she
played the showman, the concern would surely
draw.

Bulwer declared he would prefer to go in dis-
guise and hear them abuse his books ; for he
thought it would be pleasant to learn the opinions
of people who judged him neither as a member of
Parliament nor a dandy, but simply as a book-
maker. James Smith then asked him if he kept
an amanuensis, to which the author of " Pelham "
replied, " No, I scribble it all out myself, and send
it to the press in a most ungentlemanlike hand,
half print and half hieroglyphic, with all its imper-
fections on its head, and correct in the proof, —
very much to the dissatisfaction of the publisher,

298 THE MOST GORGEOUS

who sends me in a bill of sixteen pounds six shil-
lings and fourpence for extra corrections. Then I
am free to confess I don't know grammar. Lady
Blessington, do you know grammar? I detest
grammar. There never was such a thing heard of
before Lindley Murray. I wonder what they did
for grammar before his day. Oh, the delicious
blunders one sees when they are irretrievable ! and
the best of it is, the critics never get hold of them.
Thank heaven for second editions, that one may
scratch out his blots, and go down clean and gen-
tlemanlike to posterity." When asked if he had
ever reviewed one of his own books, he declared he
hadn't, but that he could. And then how he would
recriminate and defend himself ! He would be
preciously severe, for he thought nobody knew a
book's defects half so well as its author, and he
had a great idea of criticising his works for his
posthumous memoirs. The company broke up
about three in the morning, when N. P. Willis
hastened to write down his impressions of Lady
Blessington's salon for the New York Mirror.

So elated was he by the reception given him by
Lady Blessington, by this introduction to her dis-
tinguished friends, and by the prospects looming
before him, that next day he wrote to his sister,
" All the best society of London exclusives is now
open to me, — me, a sometime apprentice at setting
types, — me, without a sou in the world beyond
what my pen brings me, and with not only no

LADY BLESSINGTON 299

influence from friends at home, but a world of
envy and slander at my back. Thank heaven
there is not a countryman of mine, except Wash-
ington Irving, who has even the standing in Eng-
land which I have got in three days only. I should
not boast of it if I had not been wounded and stung
to the quick by the calumnies and falsehoods of
every description which come to me from America.
But let it pass."

He tells her he had been invited to contribute
to the Metropolitan Monthly % the Court Magazine,
and the New Monthly, and for a short tale written
for the second of these had received eight guineas.
He lodged in Cavendish Square, the most fashion-
able part of the town, where he paid a guinea a
week for his lodgings, and was " as well off as if
he had been the son of the President, with as much
as he could spend in the year. Except for his
family, he had forgotten everybody in America."

Lady Blessington, who liked the young Ameri-
can, resolved to introduce him to other of her
friends whom he particularly wished to know ; and
among various services which her powerful influ-
ence rendered him was her gaining him admission
to the Travellers Club. On his part he was de-
voted to so kindly a friend, to so charming a host-
ess. Writing to thank Landor for his introduction
to her, N. P. Willis says, " She is my loadstar and
most valued friend, for whose acquaintance I am
so much indebted to you that you will find it diffi-

300 THE MOST GORGEOUS

cult in your lifetime to diminish my obligations. I
thank you from the bottom of my heart."

A few days later than his visit to Lady Bless-
ington, he went to Ascot races, where he had the
happiness of seeing William the Fourth, his queen,
whom Willis thought the plainest woman in the
kingdom, and the young Princess Victoria, whom
he predicted would be sold, poor thing, bartered
away by those great dealers in human hearts,
" whose grand calculations will not be much con-
solation to her if she happens to have a taste of
her own." Crabbe Robinson, to whom Landor
had given him letters of introduction, asked the
American poet to breakfast, that he might meet
Charles and Mary Lamb, and afterward Lady
Blessington invited him to dinner.

Here he met Lord Durham, Fonblanque, Lord
Albert Conyngham, Disraeli, Bulwer and his
brother, Barry Cornwall, and, of course, Count
D'Orsay. Lord Durham, he says, "if he passed
for a lord at all in America, would pass for a very
ill-dressed one." Disraeli was magnificent. He
sat in a window looking out upon Hyde Park,
"with the last rays of daylight reflected from the
gorgeous gold flowers of a splendidly embroidered
waistcoat. Patent leather pumps, a white stick
with a black cord and tassel, and a quantity of
chains about his neck and pockets served to make
him a conspicuous object." Then, as to his ap-
pearance, he was lividly pale, and, but for the

LADY BLESSINGTON 301

energy of his action and strength of his lungs,
might seem a victim to consumption. His eye
was black as Erebus and had the most mock-
ing lying-in-wait expression imaginable, whilst his
mouth was "alive with a kind of working and
impatient nervousness, and when he has burst
forth, as he does constantly, with a particularly
successful cataract of expression, it assumes a
curl of triumphant scorn that would be worthy of
a Mephistopheles. His hair is as extraordinary as
his taste in waistcoats. A thick, heavy mass of jet
black ringlets falls over his left cheek almost to
his collarless stock, while on the right temple it is
parted and put away with the smooth carefulness
of a girl's."

Bulwer was badly dressed, but wore a flashy
waistcoat of the same description as Disraeli.
Count D'Orsay was "very splendid, but undefin-
able. He seemed showily dressed till you looked
to particulars, and then it seemed only a simple
thing fitted to a very magnificent person."

Barry Cornwall was a small man with a remark-
ably timid manner. His eyes were deep sunk and
had a quick and restless fire; his brows were
heavy ; his voice had the huskiness and elevation
of a man more accustomed to think than to con-
verse.

It was impossible to convey the evanescent and
pure spirit of the conversation of wits as it flashed
around the dinner-table. New poems, novels, and

302 THE MOST GORGEOUS

authors were discussed, amongst others Beckford,
who, of all present, was only known to Disraeli.
The manner in which he pictured this extraor-
dinary man bewildered Willis, who says, "I
might as well attempt to gather up the foam of
the sea as to convey an idea of the extraordinary
language in which he clothed his description.
There were at least five words in every sentence
that must have been very much astonished at the
use they were put to, and yet no others apparently
could so well have conveyed his idea. He talked
like a race-horse approaching the winning-post,
every muscle in action, and the utmost energy of
expression flung out into every burst."

Bulwer, of course, talked vivaciously, and D'Or-
say kept up a running fire of comment, half in
French, half in English. Fonblanque and Lord
Durham, "with his Brutus head," held grave polit-
ical discourse, and in this way the hours fled till
midnight passed and morning came.

His bright manners and persuasive personality
won N. P. Willis friends in high places at a time
when visitors from the younger country were a
novelty ; and in the autumn he found himself
a guest of the Duke of Gordon. The society
which here surrounded him was not so congenial
as that of the literary and artistic set which he
found in Lady Blessington's home, and writing
to her at this time, he says : " I am in a place
which wants nothing but the sunshine of heaven

LADY BLESSINGTON 303

and your presence (the latter, by much the greater
want), and I should while away the morning in
gazing out upon its lovely park were I not doomed
to find a provoking pleasure (more than in any-
thing else) in writing to you.

" I am laid up with the gout (parole), and a
prisoner to my own thoughts, — thanks to Lady
Blessington, sweet and dear ones.

" I 'left Dalhousie a week ago and returned to
Edinburgh. I breakfasted tete-a-tete with Wilson,
who gave me execrable food, but brilliant conver-
sation, and dined with Jeffrey, who had all the
distinction of Auld Reekie at his table, besides
Count Flahault and Lady Keith. His dinner was
merveilleux for Scotland, but I heard nothing
worth remembering, and spent my time talking
to an old solicitor, C., and in watching the con-
tortions of a lady who out-B.'s B. in crispations
nerveuses.

" I went afterward to a ball, and then sat down,
as I do after coming from your house, to make a
mem. of the good things I had heard, but the page
under that date is still innocent of a syllable. Oh,
you have no idea, dear Lady Blessington, in what
a brilliant atmosphere you live, compared with the
dull world abroad. I long to get back to you.

" From Edinboro' I meant to have come north
by Loch Leven, but my ankle swelled suddenly,
and was excessively painful, and the surgeon for-
bade me to set it to the ground, so I took the

304 THE MOST GORGEOUS

steamer for Aberdeen, and lay on a sofa in that
detestable place for four days, when the Duke of
Gordon wrote to me to come and nurse it at the
castle, and here I am, just able to crawl down slip-
shod to dinner.

" The house is full of people. Lord Aberdeen,
who talks to me all the time, and who is kind
enough to give me a frank to you, is here with his
son and daughter (she is a tall and very fine girl,
and very conversable), and Lord and Lady Morton,
and Lord Stormont, and Colonel Gordon, Lord
Aberdeen's brother, and the Duchess of Rich-
mond, and three or four other ladies, and half
a dozen other gentlemen, whom I do not know ;
altogether, a party of twenty-two. There is a
Lady something, very pale, tall, and haughty,
twenty-three, and sarcastic, whom I sat next at
dinner yesterday, — a woman I come as near an
antipathy for as is possible, with a very handsome
face for an apology. She entertained me with a
tirade against human nature generally, and one or
two individuals particularly, in a tone which was
quite unnatural in a woman.

" I have had a letter from Chorley, who says
Rothwell has done wonders with your portrait, and
has succeeded in what I believed he never would
I do, — getting the character all into his picture.

" I wish the art of transferring would extend to
taking images from the heart ; I should believe,
then, that an adequate likeness of you were possi-

LADY BLESSINGTON 305

ble. I envy Roth well the happiness of merely
working on it. If he takes half the pleasure in
it that I do in transferring to my memory the
features of your mind, he would get a princely
price for his portrait.

"I am delighted with the duke and duchess.
He is a delightful, hearty old fellow, full of fun
and conversation; and she is an uncommonly
fine woman, and, without beauty, has something
agreeable in her countenance. She plays well
and sings tolerably, and, on the whole, I like her.
Pour moi-meme, I get on everywhere better than
in your presence. I only fear I talk too much ;
but all the world is particularly civil to me, and
among a score of people, no one of whom I had
ever seen yesterday, I find myself quite at home
to-day, — grace a Dieu !

" I have no idea when I shall leave here, my
elephant leg being at present the arbiter of my
fate. I hope, however, to be at Dalhousie by the
ist of October. Shall I find there the present
I most value, — a letter from your ladyship ?

"Pray give my warmest regards to D'Orsay
and Barry ; and believe me, dear Lady Blessing-
ton, ever faithfully yours," etc.

It was to Willis that Lady Blessington said
Disraeli, the elder, had asked her to take care of
Benjamin for his sake. " He is a clever lad," re-
marked the author of the " Curiosities of Litera-
ture," "but he wants ballast. I am glad he has

306 THE MOST GORGEOUS

the honour to know you, for you will check him
sometimes, when I am away."

Be this as it may, a strong friendship existed
between Disraeli, in whom she had faith from the
first, and Lady Blessington, who had early gained
his admiration and affection. Three letters, writ-
ten by him to her in this year, — 1834, — indicate
the intimate feelings with which he regarded her ;
and likewise throw side-lights on his own life at
this time. Both are written from his father's house,
Bradenham, the first being dated August, the 5th ;
the second bearing no other date than this year,
whilst the third was written on the I7th of Octo-
ber. They run as follows :

" MY DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON : — I was so sorry to
leave London with* being a moment alone with you; but
although I came to the opera the last night on purpose, Fate
was against us. I did not reach this place until Sunday,
very ill indeed from the pangs of parting. Indeed, I feel
as desolate as a ghost, and I do not think that I ever shall
be able to settle to anything again. It is a great shame,
when people are happy together, that they should be ever
separated ; but it seems the great object of all human leg-
islation, that people never shod be happy together.

" My father I find better than I expected, and much
cheered by my presence. I delivered him all your kind
messages. He is now very busy on his ' History of Eng-
lish Literature,' in which he is far advanced. I am mis-
taken if you will not delight in these volumes. They are
full of new views of the history of our language, and in-
deed, of our country, for the history of a state is neces-
sarily mixed up with the history of its literature.

LADY BLESSINGTON 307

" For myself, I am doing nothing. The western Breeze
favours an alfresco existence, and I am seated with a pipe
under a spreading sycamore, solemn as a pacha.

" I wish you would induce Hookham to entrust me with
' Agathon,' that mad Byronic novel.

" What do you think of the modern French novelists,
and is it worth my while to read them, and, if so, what do
you recommend me? What of Balzac, is he better than
Sue and Geo. Sandt Dudevant, and are these inferior to
Hugo ? I ask you these questions, because you will give
me short answers, like all people who are masters of their
subject.

" I suppose it is vain to hope to see my dear D'Orsay
here ; I wish indeed he wod come. Here is a cook by no
means contemptible. He can bring his horses if he like,
but I can mount him. Adieu, dr Lady Blessington, some
day I will try to write you a more amusing letter ; at pres-
ent I am, in truth, ill and sad."

" DEAREST LADY BLESSINGTON : — I have intended to
return the books and send you these few lines every day
and am surprised that I cod have so long omitted doing
anything so agreeable as writing to you. We are all de-
lighted with the portraits ; my sister is collecting those of
all my father's friends ; her collection will include almost
every person of literary celebrity from the end of ye John-
sonian era, so your fair face arrived just in time. I am
particularly delighted with Parris's port*, wch I had never
seen before. . . .

" I have read y arte on Coleridge in ye Quarterly, but
do not agree with you, in holding it to be written by Lock-
hart. It is too good. L.'s style has certainly the merit of
being peculiar. I know none so meagre, harsh, and clumsy,
or more felicitous in the jumble of commonplace metaphors.
I think ye present reviewal must be by Nelson Coleridge,

308 THE MOST GORGEOUS

a nephew of ye poet and a cleverish sort of fellow, though a

Pr'g.

" You give me the same advice as my father ever has
done, about dotting down the evanescent feelings of youth ;
but, like other excellent advice, I fear it will prove unprofit-
able. I have a horror of journalising, and, indeed, of writ-
ing of all description. With me, execution is ever a labour
and conception, a delight. Although a great traveller, I
never kept a diary in my life."

" MY DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON : — My absence at
Quarter Sessions, where I was bored to death, prevented
me instantly answering your letter. I hope, however, you
will receive this before your departure. I sympathise with
your sufferings ; my experience, unhappily, assures me how
ably you describe them. This golden autumn ought to
have cured us all. I myself, in spite of the snshine, have
been a great invalid. Indeed, I know not how it is, but I
am never well, save in action, and then I feel immortal. I
am ashamed of being « nervous.' Dyspepsia always makes
me wish for a civil war. In the meantime, I amuse myself
by county politics. I received yesterday a letter, most
sprightly and amusing, from Bulwer, dated Limerick. He
is about to return to Dublin, and talks of going to Spain.
I am ashamed that I must confess to him that I have not
read « Pompeii,' but, alas, a London bookseller treats us pro-
vincials with great contempt, and in spite of reiterated
epistles and promises, as numerous, I have not yet received
the much-wished tomes. My father sends his kindest re-
gards. As for myself, I am dying for action, and rust
like a Damascus sabre in ye sheath of a poltroon.

" Adieu, dear friend, we shall meet on your return."

Another man whom Lady Blessington liked and
esteemed, was Henry Bulwer, the elder brother

LADY BLESSINGTON 309

of the novelist. Henry Bulwer, delicate and re-
fined in appearance, concealed under a naturally
languid manner that keen observation, penetration
of character, and force of will which subsequently
raised him to the high offices he filled in the
diplomatic service. His lovable disposition made
him universally popular ; had he pleased, he could
have distinguished himself in literature. Whilst
at Cambridge, in his twenty-first year, he pub-
lished a volume of graceful verses ; but instead of
wooing the Muses, he entered the army the fol-
lowing year, leaving it for diplomacy before he
was thirty, when he became an attache" at Berlin.
By a singular coincidence, he, like his brother, the
novelist, gained a large sum in a single night.
Whilst passing through Paris he visited a gam-
bling house, where he won between six and seven
thousand pounds.

From Berlin he was transferred to Vienna, and
from there to The Hague. In 1826 he recorded
his experiences in the Morea, in a work called
"An Autumn in Greece;" and in 1834 pub-
lished the first part of an important work, entitled
" France, Social, Literary, and Political," the lat-
ter part of which was brought out in the follow-
ing year. To assure him of the success of his
efforts, Lady Blessington wrote him a letter, dated
November the 6th, in which she begins by telling
him it gave her great pleasure to hear from him,
and it gave her scarcely less pleasure to be able

3io THE MOST GORGEOUS

to tell him of the success of his book. She had
read it with the acuteness of a critic, increased by
the nervous anxiety of a friend. Feeling satisfied
of its merit, she was desirous of drawing general
attention to the work as far as lay in her power,
by recommending it to all her acquaintances, and
commenting on it in her salon every evening.

" Many people," she continues, " are too idle or
indolent to take the trouble of judging for them-
selves ; a book must be pointed out to them as
worthy of being read ; and the rest, the merits of
a good book will ensure. Yours has been a regu-
lar hit, as the booksellers call it ; a better proof
of which I cannot give you than that, on Satur-
day last, a copy of the first edition was not to be
procured for love or money. It is not only
praised, but bought, and has placed you very high
on the literary ladder. Go on and prosper ; your
success furnishes an incitement that the first work
of few authors ever gave, and it would be unpar-
donable not to persevere in a path that offers such
brilliant encouragement. . . .

" I never fear genius and worth ; it is only the
egotistical irritability of mediocrity that I fear and
shun. It grieves me when I see men like Fon-
blanque misunderstood or undervalued, and it is
only at such moments that I am ambitious ; for I
should like to have power wholly and solely for
doing justice to merit, and drawing into the sun-
shine of Fortune those who ought to be placed at

LADY BLESSINGTON 311

the top of her wheel, with a drag to prevent that
wheel revolving.

" * Pompeii ' has covered its author with glory ;
every one talks of, every one praises it. What a
noble creature your brother is ; such sublime gen-
ius, joined to such deep, such true feeling. He is
too superior to be understood, in this age of pig-
mies, where each little animal thinks only of self
and its little clique, and are jealous of the giants
who stood between them and the sun, intercepting
from them all its rays. 'Without these giants/
say they, ' what brightness would be ours ; but
they keep all the sun to themselves/ "

CHAPTER XIV.

Letters from Lord Abinger, Bulwer, and Landor — Recollections
of Florence — Landor Leaves Fiesole — Lady Blessington
Writes to Madame Guiccioli — Removal to Gore House —
Correspondence with Landor and Captain Marryat — Prince
Louis Napoleon — John Forster.

HE novel called "The Two Friends," at
which Lady Blessington had worked
continually during the previous year,
was published in January, 1835. And now the
excitement of producing the book began to sub-
side, she, like many another author, was beset by
nervous fears for its fate at the hands of those
sitting in judgment on her work. On this point
many of her friends hastened to reassure her.
One of the first to write to her concerning the
novel was James Scarlett, who had been appointed
lord chief baron of the exchequer the previous
year, and in this, 1835, was raised to the peerage
as Baron Abinger.

He begins by replying to an invitation to dinner
she had sent him, saying he could refuse her
nothing.

" A very severe and lasting cold and cough almost unfit
me for company, but if I do not get worse, I will surely

312

LADY BLESSINGTON 313

join you on Friday, hoping that you will excuse my pro-
pensity to bark, as it does not arise from hydrophobia, —
on the contrary, I drink nothing but water.

" I have made acquaintance with « The Two Friends,'
and relish them much. In truth, I have devoted two suc-
cessive midnight hours to them. I like the book; the
characters are well drawn, the incidents well imagined,
the interest well kept up, the sentiments of a high moral
cast, and the composition occasionally rises into great
elegance, and is always marked by correct feeling, well ex-
pressed. After so much of commendation, you will, I
know, receive as well one critical remark. Had I been at
your elbow when you wrote, I wd not have allowed you
to make use of two or three words which I dislike : one is
' agreeability,' which, if English, is not agreeable, and
therefore does not suit you. But it is not English ; « agree-
ableness ' is the right word. Another is the word ' men-
tally,' which, though a good word, has been so much abused
by some indifferent writers, that I have taken a dislike to
it, and wod banish it from the novels of my friends. I
do not recollect any other."

Bulwer also wrote her an interesting letter re-
garding the book, in which he says :

" I don't (pardon me) believe a word you say about ' The
Two Friends.' If it have no passion, it may be an admi-
rable novel, nevertheless. Miss Edgeworth has no passion
— and who in her line excels her ?

" As to your own doubts, they foretell your success. I
have always found one is never so successful as when one
is least sanguine. I fell into the deepest despondency about
* Pompeii ' and ' Eugene Aram ; ' and was certain, nay, most
presumptuous, about « Devereux,' which is the least generally
popular of my writings. Your feelings of distrust are pre-

314 THE MOST GORGEOUS

sentiments to be read backward; they are the happiest
omen. But I will tell you all about it — Brougham-like —
when I have read the book. . . .

" Reflection in one's chamber, and action in the world are
the best critics. With them we can dispense with other
teachers ; without them all teachers are in vain. « Fool,'
says Sidney, in the < Arcadia,1 * Fool, look in thy heart and
write.' "

On the iQth of January, he writes to her again,
saying : " If I should be well enough the day after
to-morrow, I should then be enchanted if you
would let me accompany you in your drive for an
hour, and revive me by your agreeable news of
politics, literature, and the world.

" I have just landed from the three-volume voy-
age of ' Peter Simple/ The characters are exag-
gerated out of all truth, and the incidents, such as
changing children, shutting up the true heir in a
madhouse, etc., are at once stale and impossible.
But despite this, Marryat has a frank, dashing
genius, and splashes about the water in grand
style. He writes like a man, and that is more
than most of the other novelists do, who have
neither the vigour of one sex, nor the refinement
of the other."

A few days after his drive with her, a wild re-
port spread through the town, stating that Bulwer
was dead, on which Lady Blessington immediately
despatched a messenger to ascertain if the news
were true. In writing on the 24th of the month,
to thank her, he says : " The reports concerning

LADY BLESSINGTON 315

me appear to < progress ' in a regular climax.
First, I had not a shilling, and an execution was
in my house ; then I was bought by the Tories,
and now I am dead. They have taken away for-
tune, honesty, and lastly life itself. Such are the
pleasures of reputation.

" Just before you sent, Lady Charlotte Bury
was also pleased to despatch a message to know
at what hour I had departed this world? Three
other successive deputations arrived, and this
morning, on opening a Lincoln paper, I found
that there, too, it had been reported * that their
excellent representative was no more.' I con-
sider that I have paid the debt of nature, — that I
am virtually dead, — that I am born again with a
new lease, — and that the years I have hitherto
lived are to be struck off the score of the fresh
life I have this morning awakened to.

" I believe, my dearest friend, that you were
shocked with the report, and would in your kind
heart have grieved for its truth. So would four
or five others ; and the rest would have been
pleased at the excitement; it would have been
something to talk about before the meeting of
Parliament.

" I am now going to plunge into ' Histories of
China/ light my pipe, read a page, and muse an
hour, and be very dull and melancholy for the
rest of the evening ; still it is some consolation to
think one is not — dead."

3i 6 THE MOST GORGEOUS

Although Lady Blessington had forwarded to
Landor a copy of her " Conversations " on its
publication, it did not, through delay in its trans-
mission, reach his Tuscan home until March, 1835.

Thereon he wrote to express his " thanks upon
thanks, for making him think Byron a better and
a wiser man than he had thought him," and in the
same letter he goes on to say :

" Mr. Robinson, the soundest man that ever stepped
through the trammels of law, gave me, a few days ago, the
sorrowful information that another of our great writers has
joined Coleridge. Poor Charles Lamb, what a tender,
good, joyous heart had he. What playfulness, what purity
of style and thought. His sister is yet living, much older
than himself. One of her tales in Mrs. Leicester's School
is, with the sole exception of the ' Bride of Lammermoor,'
the most beautiful tale in prose composition in any lan-
guage, ancient or modern. A young girl has lost her
mother, the father marries again, and marries r friend of
his former wife. The child is ill reconciled to it, but being
dressed in new clothes for the marriage, she runs up to her
mother's chamber, filled with the idea how happy that dear
mother would be at seeing her in all her glory — not reflect-
ing, poor soul, that it was only by her mother's death that
she appeared in it. How natural, how novel is all this.
Did you ever imagine that a fresh source of the pathetic
would burst forth before us in this trodden and hardened
world ? I never did, and when I found myself upon it, I
pressed my temples with both hands, and tears ran down to
my elbows.

" The opium-eater calls Coleridge * the largest and most
spacious intellect, the subtlest and most comprehensive that
has yet existed among men.' Impiety to Shakespeare,

LADY BLESSINGTON 317

treason to Milton, I give up the rest, even Bacon. Cer-
tainly, since their days, we have seen nothing at all com-
parable to him. Byron and Scott were but as gun-flints to
a granite mountain ; Wordsworth has one angle of resem-
blance ; Southey has written more, and all well, much ad-
mirably. Fonblanque has said grand things about me ; but
I sit upon the earth with my heels under me, looking up
devoutly to this last glorious ascension. Never ask me
about the rest. If you do, I shall only answer in the cries
that you are very likely to hear at this moment from your
window, « Ground ivy, ground ivy, ground ivy.' "

To this Lady Blessington made answer that she
was glad her book had given him a better opinion
of Byron, who was one of the many proofs of a
superior nature spoilt by civilisation. The evil
began when he was a schoolboy, and continued its
baneful influence over him to the last moments of
his life. "But then, there were outbreakings of
the original goodness of the soil, though over cul-
tivation had deteriorated it. His first impulses
were always good, and it was only the reflections
suggested by experience that checked them. Then
consider that he died when only thirty-seven years
old. The passions had not ceased to torment,
though they no longer wholly governed him. He
was arrived at that period in human life when he
saw the fallacy of the past, without having grasped
the wisdom of the future. Had ten years been added
to his existence, he would have been a better and
a happier man. Are not goodness and happiness
the nearest approach to synonymous terms ?."

318 THE MOST GORGEOUS

She adds that she has sent him her two novels,
though she fears they will not interest him, because
" they are written on the every -day business of life,
without once entering the region of imagination.
I wrote because I wanted money, and was obliged
to select the subjects that would command it from
my publisher. None but ephemeral ones will now
catch the attention of the mass of readers."

She sees his friend, Crabbe Robinson, sometimes,
but not so often as she could wish. " We talk of
you every time we meet," she continues, "and are
selfish enough to wish you were near us in this
cold and murky climate. If you knew how much
I value your letters, you would write to me very,
very often ; they breathe of Italy, and take me
back to other and happier times. Do you remem-
ber our calm evenings on the terrace of the Casa
Pelosi, where by the light of the moon we looked
upon the smooth and glassy Arno, and talked
of past ages ? Those were happy times, and I
frequently revert to them.

" The verses in your letter pleased me much, as
do all that you write. What have you been doing
lately ? What a capital book might be written
illustrative of the passions, when they stood forth
more boldly than at present, in the Middle Ages.
The history of Italy teems with such, and you
might give them vitality."

Lady Blessington was destined to see her cor-
respondent and friend much sooner than she ex-

LADY BLESSINGTON 319

pected ; for in the spring of the year Landor left
Florence, fully determined to settle in England,
being driven from his home by domestic troubles,
the chief of which was that his nagging wife had
used language before their children which deeply
wounded him.

The scene that brought his vexations to a crisis
occurred when an English friend, Armitage Brown,
was present at dinner. On the latter being sub-
sequently asked to make a statement of what he
had witnessed, in justification of Landor's action,
Armitage Brown wrote that he grieved to be
ungracious to one who had uniformly treated
him with the utmost courtesy and kindness as
Mrs. Landor had, "but there are certain words,"
he adds, "which once uttered, whether directed
toward myself or my friend, cancel every obliga-
tion ; nor can I affect to feel their power lessened
on account of their being uttered by the wife of
my friend." He declares himself ashamed to write
down the words spoken by Mrs. Landor ; to hear
them was painful. " I am afraid," he says to the
disconsolate husband, "my patience would have
left me in a tenth part of the time ; but you, to
my astonishment, sat with a composed countenance,
never once making use of an uncivil expression,
unless the following may be so considered, when,
after about an hour, she seemed exhausted : * I
beg, madam, you will, if you think proper, proceed ;
as I have made up my mind from the first, to

320 THE MOST GORGEOlfS

endure at least twice as much as you have been
yet pleased to speak.' . . . For more than eleven
years I have been intimate with you," continues
this correspondent, "and during that time fre-
quenting your house, I never once saw you behave
toward Mrs. Landor otherwise than with the most
gentlemanly demeanour, while your love for your
children was unbounded. I was always aware that
you gave entire control into her hands over the
children, the servants, and the management of
the house ; and when vexed or annoyed at any-
thing, I could not but remark that you were in the
habit of requesting the cause to be remedied or
removed, as a favour to yourself. All this I have
more than once repeated to Mrs. Landor in answer
to her accusations against you, which I could never
well comprehend. When I have elsewhere heard
you accused of being a violent man, I have frankly
acknowledged it ; limiting, however, your violence
to persons guilty of meanness, roguery, or duplic-
ity ; by which I meant, and said, that you utterly
lost your temper with Italians."

This departure from the children he worshipped,
the home, and the land he loved, was a heart-break
to poor Landor. As he wrote, " Fiesole and Val
d'Arno must be dreams hereafter " to him. He
told Southey it was not willingly he left Tuscany,
"There was but one spot upon earth," he stated,
" on which I had fixed my heart, and four objects
on which my affection rested. That they might

LADY BLESSINGTON 321

not hear every day such language as no decent
person should hear once, nor despise both parents,
I left the only delight of my existence.'*

Friends tried to make peace, and to induce
Landor to return, amongst them Mr. Ravenshaw,
who had married a sister of Mrs. Landor ; but to
him the author made such a detailed statement
of his grievances that their hearer agreed Landor
had strong grounds for his action, and no longer
urged him to reseek the home he had quitted.

Upon leaving Italy he had transferred the villa
and farms at Fiesole to his son, and out of his
income of six hundred a year allowed Mrs. Lan-
dor two-thirds of that sum.

Lady Blessington warmly welcomed and gave
him that sympathy he had learned to expect from
her and now sadly required. It was not, however,
his intention to remain in London, but rather to
take up his residence among his own people at
Bath, where he went after a short stay in town.
But throughout the years that followed he visited
London at odd intervals, and rarely failed to see
Lady Blessington. On one occasion, when, in the
September of this year, he called at Seamore Place,
she happened to be in Hampshire, in search of
health. They were disappointed at not meeting.

" I had heard of your having passed through
London before I got your letter," she wrote, "and
console myself for not having seen you by the
hope that on your way back you will give me a

322 THE MOST GORGEOUS

few days of your society, that we may talk over
old friends and old times, one of the few comforts
(though it is a melancholy one) that age gives."

In the autumn of the year the Countess Guic-
cioli was again in England, a country which had
become dear because of the appreciative welcome
its society had extended to her. Now, however,
she was little disposed to receive the hospitalities
proffered, for news had reached her from Italy
that her brother, Count Gamba, was sick unto
death. Before Lady Blessington had been made
aware of this fact, she wrote to Madame Guiccioli,
in October :

" I shall grow superstitious, my dearest friend, for I
really had a presentiment that you were either in sickness
or in sorrow, and, alas, I find that you are in both. I wish
I was near you, for I understand your heart as well as I do
my own, and I think I could lighten your sufferings by shar-
ing them. I have great faith in the power of sympathy,
and it is in moments of affliction that the presence of a true
friend can be of use. I shall be more triste, knowing that
you are unhappy and alone, than if I was near you. Be
assured that I feel for you a friendship as warm as it is sin-
cere, and that few people can love you as well, because few
people can appreciate you as I do.

" My carriage shall be at your door to-morrow, at seven
o'clock, to bring you to dine with me, but if you wish to
take the air, or have any visits to pay, it shall be at your
service at any hour you like. Count D'Orsay charges me
with mille amittis de sa part. Adieu until to-morrow, chtre
and belle amie. God bless you, prays your affectionate and
devoted friend."

LADY BLESSINGTON 323

A couple of weeks later brought news of Count
Gamba's death, on which Lady Blessington wrote
her the following letter :

" Well can I share your feelings at the fatal event that
has taken place. I, too, lost a brother, dear to me as the
life-blood that warms my heart, and though years, long
years, have passed since then, I remember the blow as if it
only yesterday fell on me.

" When such an affliction befalls us, we are apt to forget
that those we mourn have only preceded us to the tomb by,
at most, a few years. We shall soon follow them, and be
united never more to part, and this thought should console
us. Think how quickly passes even the longest life, and
be comforted with the certainty of our reunion where there
are no more partings and no more tears. Heaven bless
you, my dearest friend."

Soon after the melancholy news reached her,
Madame Guiccioli, in order to recruit her health
and spirits, went to stay with various friends in
the country, whence she wrote, stating she had
been unwell. To this came a sympathetic reply
from Lady Blessington, who expressed her grief
at hearing her friend had been so ill. " I thought,"
she continues, "that your silence boded no good,
but I tried to think it proceeded from the occupa-
tion and consequent fatigue of sightseeing, which,
to a person with so much imagination, and so
impressionable as you are, never fails to be as
exhausting as it is exciting. How fortunate that
you found a skilful doctor. I shall henceforth
venerate his name and laud his practice, though

324 THE MOST GORGEOUS

I trust you will no more have occasion to try its
efficacy.

" Your tour has been a very interesting one,
and you had need of such an excitement to lessen
the tristesse that had taken possession of you
since the melancholy intelligence from Italy.

"There is but one source of consolation, my
dear friend, under such afflictions, and I have
been often during the last six years compelled to
seek its aid, and this is the recollection that the
friends torn from us by death (that ruthless des-
troyer of the dearest ties) only precede us at most
by a few fleeting years, that only sure rendezvous
where we shall all meet. Alas, such is our weak-
ness, that we mourn as if they only were con-
demned to die, and that we were not to follow
them. The brevity of life proves the best conso-
lation for the pains that fall to ourselves while in
it. But why dwell on the subject to you, who, like
myself, have tasted deeply of the cup of affliction,
and who are accustomed to its bitterness.

" I hope to see you soon again, very soon after
your arrival, with the roses of health again bloom-
ing on your cheeks. Count D'Orsay charges me
with his kindest regards to you ; we often think
and talk of the pleasant hours passed in your
society, when your charming voice and agreeable
conversation gave wings to them."

These were not the only letters of sympathy
which Lady Blessington was called upon to write

LADY BLESSINGTON 325

this year ; for in June, Charles Mathews, the elder,
returned from America in a dying condition, and
before he could be removed to his own home in
London, he laid down the burden of his life at
Plymouth. His death came as a shock to Lady
Blessington, who at once wrote to express her
grief to his widow. "When one's feelings are
understood," she remarks, in the letter, " — and
who can understand yours like me, who have
drunk the cup of bitterness to the very dregs ? —
though sorrow is not removed, it is lightened by
being shared. Alas, I have too keenly, too deeply,
felt the want of friends, to consider the rank or
position of any one who had served or loved me
or mine, and, therefore, well can I understand
all that you feel at the loss of the amiable, the
noble-minded creature, who has gone before us
to that kingdom where rank loses all its futile,
its heartless distinctions, and we are judged of by
our deeds and our hearts, and not by our names.
Though I have not been with you in person, my
mind, my soul, has been with you, and my tears
have flowed in sympathy with yours."

And a few days later she writes to Mrs. Mathews,
saying she had, before this sad news reached her,
asked some people to dinner for Sunday, but she
would be obliged to leave her sister and Count
D'Orsay to entertain them. She suffered too
much to attempt it. "Indeed," she adds, "my
spirits are as low as my health, and my thoughts

326 THE MOST GORGEOUS

are much more with you and your house of mourn-
ing than with anything passing around me. Con-
quer the feelings that the last sad event will
excite, by recollecting what I had to bear when
all I most valued was torn from me, and I left
with strangers in a foreign land."

At Christmas, when memory most recalls the
absent, Lady Blessington again wrote to Mrs.
Mathews : " I can well enter into your feelings,
every one of which finds an echo in my heart.
Little do we think, when we are enlivening birth-
days and anniversaries, that we are laying up cause
for future sorrow, and that a day may come when,
those who shared them with us being snatched
away, the return of past seasons of enjoyment
bring only bitterness and sorrow.

"All that you feel, I felt and do feel, though
years are gone by since the blow that destroyed
my happiness took place. Without the constant
occupation I have given myself, I should have
sunk under it, when the memory of it comes back
to me, with all the bitterness of the past, though
I try to chase it away."

On the last day of December Landor writes to
her from Bath to wish her many happy years.
Then he goes on to speak of the annual, of which
she had sent him a copy.

"The 'Book of Beauty* is under one hand,
while, it requires no conjuror to tell you, I am
writing this with the other. Since I had the

LADY BLESSINGTON 327

pleasure of reading your last kind letter, I have
been travelling about occasionally, and hoped to
spend my Christmas at Clifton. There are some
old thoughts resting upon Bath ; but Bath is no
longer what it was to any one, and least of all to
me. Clifton is the best climate on this side of
Nice, and climate is everything to so Italianised
a piece of machinery as I am. Poor Gell, I grieve
that he is losing his spirits ; they used to rise
above his health, and now flag under it. The
natural reflection is, — he is only two years older
than myself, — but natural reflections are mostly
selfish, and often stupid ones. I would wish him
to live on, were it only to keep me in countenance.
Did you ever hear this rude phrase before ? It
was once said to me at dinner by Major D. I
could not help replying that it was easier to keep
him in it, than put him out of it. Which made
him ponder."

One of the first letters she received in 1836
was written from Paris on January 5th, by Bulwer,
who says : " I have been out little at present,
though such of the world as I have encountered
seem inclined to pet the lion if he will let
them. But a gregarious lion, after all, would be
but a sheep in disguise. Authors are made to
be ascetics, — and it is in vain to struggle, as I
once did, against the common fate, — made to go
through the world sowing dreams to reap disap-
pointments, to sacrifice grave interests to generous

328 THE MOST GORGEOUS

whims, to aspire to be better, and wiser, and
tenderer, than others ; though they may seem
worse, and more visionary, and harsher, and so,
at last, to shut up their souls in patient scorn, and
find that even appreciation and justice come too
late."

The following month brought her a letter from
Disraeli, who was then anxious to become a mem-
ber of the Carlton Club. In this he says :

" MY DEAREST LADY : — Early in March there are to be
fifty members elected into the Carlton by the members at
large. A strong party of my friends, Lord L., Lord Chan-
dos, Stuart de Rothesy, etc., are very active in my behalf,
and I think among the leaders of our party my claims
would be recognised; but doubtless there is a sufficient
alloy of dunces even among the Conservatives, and I
have no doubt there will be a stout opposition to me.
Although I will not canvass myself, I wish my friends to
do so most earnestly. I know from personal experience
that one word from you would have more effect upon me
than letters from all the lords in Xdom. I wish therefore
to enlist you on my side, and will take the liberty of send-
ing you a list to-morrow."

As Lady Blessington's greatest pleasure was
to serve her friends, there can be no doubt of
the manner in which she responded to his appeal.
Disraeli had the satisfaction of being elected, and
on the 5th of March he writes to his sister glee-
fully : " I carried the Carlton : the opposition was
not inconsiderable in the committee, but my friends

LADY BLESSINGTON 329

were firm, — four hundred candidates, and all in
their own opinion with equal claims."

In the spring of this year Lady Blessington
left her residence in Seamore Place, the noise
and bustle of that thoroughfare having become
trying to her nerves, and took a house in Kensing-
ton Gore, then considered to be in the country,
the purer air and quieter atmosphere of which she
hoped would benefit her health, that now suffered
from the strain of constant work. The mansion
she selected, known as Gore House, had once
been the residence of William Wilberforce.

Lying back from the road, from which it was
separated by high walls and great gates, it was
approached by a courtyard that led to a spacious
vestibule. The rooms were large and lofty, the
hall wide and stately, but the chiefest attraction
of all was the beautiful gardens stretching at
the back, with their wide terraces, flower-plots,
extensive lawns, and fine old trees. The house
itself was fitted up with extraordinary splendour.
The library, which became the favourite room of
its owner, extended to the full length of the house
from north to south, its southern windows looking
on green pleasure-grounds. Its walls were well-
nigh lined with books, the edges of their shelves
enamelled in ivory white ; small interstices were
filled with looking-glasses, which were also fitted
into the panels of the doors ; fireplaces of beauti-
fully carved white marble stood at either end,

330 THE MOST GORGEOUS

and in the centre were delicate columns support-
ing an arch. The curtains were of silk damask
of a delicate apple-green shade ; the same material,
set in white and gold, being seen in the chairs and
lounges.

Here it was Lady Blessington generally re-
ceived the friends who now as ever flocked around
her. And here she was enabled to add to the
number of her pets ; for her affection for animals
was greater even than her love for flowers. As
at Seamore Place, so at Gore House the visitor
was generally met in the hall by an inquisitive
poodle, a giant amongst his race, pure white in
colour, with amber eyes. His sagacity was almost
human ; as a companion he was unequalled, and,
moreover, his was the honour of having suggested
to Landseer his picture of " Laying Down the
Law." The poodle was French, but he had as
companion an Italian greyhound, a beautiful
animal, whose portrait David Wilkie asked per-
mission to paint. There was now added to the
household a bird which much astonished the dogs
and delighted the visitors, this being a wonderful
talking crow, who, amongst other things, was taught
to say, " Up, boys, and at 'em : " a phrase which,
with its head on one side, it would deliver with a
comic gravity that made the Duke of Wellington
roar with laughter.

Then in the grounds were gold and silver
pheasants that ate from their mistress's hand,

LADY BLESSINGTON 331

an aviary for all kinds of birds, and a flock of
pigeons that for ever filled the air with their
cooing.

This garden, with its old walls of red brick
across which stretched pear and fig trees, its
masses of roses facing toward the south, its white
and purple lilac trees close by the terrace, and
its sheltered walks, afforded great delight to Lady
Blessington, who, accompanied only by her dogs,
would read, or plan her work here in summer-
time ; or, attended by her friends, would pass
pleasant hours talking over matters of common
interest, dwelling upon the past, speculating re-
garding the far future, a subject fascinating to
imaginations striving to penetrate the shadows,
to picture the unknown, to sight what endless
ages may hold for the soul.

In a letter which Barry Cornwall wrote, con-
gratulating her on a change of residence, he tells
her she may safely enjoy her garden. For, says
he, "Nature is a friend that never deceives us.
You may depend upon it that her roses will be
genuine, and that the whisper of your trees will
contain neither flattery nor slander."

When quite settled at Gore House, Lady Bless-
ington wrote to Landor that " she had taken up her
residence in the country, being a mile from Lon-
don." She hears he is coming to town in the
following month and hopes he will stay with her.
" I have a comfortable room to offer you, and, what

332 THE MOST GORGEOUS

is better still, a cordial welcome. Pray bear this
in mind and let me have the pleasure of having
you under my roof.

" Have you heard of the death of poor Sir Wil-
liam Cell ? " she asks, and then, after giving some
particulars of his demise, she continues, "If we
were only half as lenient to the living as we are
to the dead, how much happiness might we render
them, and from how much vain and bitter remorse
might we be spared, when the grave, the all-aton-
ing grave, has closed over them."

To this letter, written on the loth of March,
he at once replies, saying she cannot doubt how
happy and proud he will be to become her guest.
"If," he says, "you should not have left London
in the beginning of May, do not be shocked at
hearing that a cab is come to your door with a
fierce-looking old man in it."

In due time he arrived at Gore House, much to
the delight of his hostess ; but before he became
her guest he wrote that he would not let any of
her court stand in his way; that when he was
tired of them, he would leave them : yet, as John
Forster, his biographer, narrates, " Being there, he
enjoyed himself to the full ; indeed, for him there
was no pleasanter, more congenial house in Lon-
don, none where he had a warmer welcome, where
he was freer from constraint." And this state-
ment is borne out by Landor's correspondence.
" Where else," he says on one occasion, in speak-

LADY BLESSINGTON 333

ing of Gore House, " where else can I find so much
wit, so much wisdom ? The rest of the world may
pretend it can collect (but I doubt it) as much
beauty. Do not whisper a word of this to a cer-
tain pair of sisters."

In a letter written in reply to his expressions
of gratitude for her hospitality, Lady Blessington
tells him he must come and pay her another visit
when he returns from his relations, for nowhere
could he bestow his society where it could be more
highly valued ; and for that reason he ought to be
more liberal of the gift. She thought of him often,
and missed him often. It was happily said that
friends, like lovers, should be very near or very
distant. That was what she felt, for one got rec-
onciled to the absence caused by a great distance,
and impatient at that which a short distance pro-
duced. "When you were in Italy I knew it was
useless to hope to see you ; but at Bristol I reproach
you for not giving me more of your society."

In August, 1836, Landor writes to ask her if
she has ever read the poems of Miss Barrett, who
afterward became Mrs. Browning. " If you have,
I doubt whether you will be inclined to think the
frame of her mind at all adapted to the ' Book of
Beauty.' Latterly, I hear, she is become quite ab-
sorbed in her devotional contemplations. I never
saw her but once. It was at my friend Kenyon's,
and I conversed with her only for about ten
minutes. Hearing that she was an excellent Greek

334 THE MOST GORGEOUS

scholar, I gave her a few Greek verses, which I
happened to recollect at the moment, and which I
think were among the last I had written. How-
ever, I will not delay my inquiries of Kenyon
whether she will compose something, or whether
she has anything already composed which may be
inserted in the ' Book of Beauty.'

"I will also ask Richard Milnes."

Two months later he tells her : " I arrived here
in such utter disarray, and so vilely out of spirits,
in the dark, that I could not in my conscience
present myself at Gore House. God grant that
nothing may remain of your indisposition. Early
to-morrow morning I must go to Clifton, where I
have been expected these last four days. Sadness
ought never to be where you are, and yet I must
have brought it. I returned quite alone, — the
cholera is the plea why none of my children were
allowed to meet me in Tyrol. To-morrow I shall
roll myself up like a hedgehog for six months. I
am most anxious to hear that you are quite well
again. Pray tell me how Mrs. Fairlie's book goes
on, and say something of her sweet little girl.
This melancholy weather would certainly make
me throw myself into the Thames, if I were to
remain near it ; and yet the throw is an idle one,
for the air itself is a Thames."

A fortnight later he sends her the following :

" DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON : — In my hasty transit
through London, I wrote your ladyship a few lines, apolo-

LADY BLESSINGTON 335

gising for not paying my respects. With disappointment,
fatigue, illness, and pestilential fog, I was half dead. I
reached the hotel in Vise Street at nearly six, dined, went
to bed at nine, rose at eight, and reached this place about
the same hour in the evening. Yesterday I had a letter
from Saunders and Otley, to whom I had sent another
volume for publication. They decline it, telling me that
they are losers of 150 by the ' Pericles.' A young author
would be vexed. I wrote them by this post as follows :

" « Gentlemen, you judge very rightly in supposing that
nothing of mine can be popular. I regret that for the pres-
ent you are subject to a considerable loss by the " Pericles."
I never can allow any one to be a loser by me, on which
principle (if on no other) I would never play a game at
cards. Perhaps a few more copies, though probably very
few, may be sold within another year. At all events, at
the .end of the next, I will make good your loss. I am
also in your debt for the " Letters of a Conservative," which
have lately been reviewed in Germany by Doctor Paulus.
But in England they do not appear to be worth the notice
of the learned world, or the political. Be pleased to let
me know what I am in your debt for the publication and
the books you sent me, that I may discharge this portion
of it immediately.'

" I now rejoice that I reserved for my own expenditure
only two hundred a year, and that I have not deprived my
wife of her horses, nor my sons of theirs, nor of anything
else they had been used to. I never feel great pleasure
in doing what anybody else can do. It would puzzle a
good many to save fifty out of two hundred in one year.
The rest must come out of my estate, which I am clearing
of its encumbrances very fast. I hear that if I had not
formerly placed it in the hands of the vilest rascal in
Wales, one Gabb, it would, even in these bad times, with
thirty-five per cent, deducted, have brought me a clear

336 THE MOST GORGEOUS

•

income of ^4,000. In that case, what pleasure could I
possibly have had in writing my letter to MM. Saunders
and Otley.

'* But I am losing sight of my object. It was to place
this publication and my « Interview of Petrarca and Boccac-
cio ' ( which I will send when I have transcribed it ) wholly
at your ladyship's disposal. If there is anything passable
in either, do what you please with it, and burn the rest."

The Mrs. Fairlie to whom Landor refers was
the eldest daughter of Mrs. Purves, and the fa-
vourite niece of Lady Blessington. Quite early
in life Louisa Purves had married a man of good
family but limited means, named John Fairlie of
Chevely Park. In order to add to her income,
she utilised the considerable literary talent she
possessed, to contribute to the "Book of Beauty,"
and later to edit an annual called " Children of the
Nobility." Her eldest child, Isabella, though won-
derfully intelligent, was born deaf and dumb, an
affliction which endeared her the more to the
heart of her grandaunt, from whom she was
seldom separated. Mrs Fairlie was extremely
delicate, and her sense of religion was so vivid
as to continually prompt her to admonish and
instruct all around her, including her aunt, whose
worldliness she deplored.

Three years before this date, Lady Blessington
had made the acquaintance of Captain Marryat, a
blunt, hearty-mannered man, who savoured of the
roughness and strength of the sea. In 1829 he

LADY BLESSINGTON 337

had written the " Naval Officer," for which he re-
ceived four hundred pounds, and the following
year, he retired from the service, and published
"The King's Own/' Two years later, he pro-
duced "Newton Forster," and became editor of
the Metropolitan Magazine, a post he retained
for three years, during which time he gave the
world "Peter Simple," "Jacob Faithful," and
"The Pacha of Many Tales."

Taking his family with him, he went to reside
abroad, in 1835, an& m tne summer of the follow-
ing year he wrote from Spa to tell Lady Blessing-
ton that he had received her packet of letters, for
which he is much obliged, not for the letters alone,
but also for thinking of him, when he was so far
out of the way, which was very unusual in this
world, and particularly flattering to him. Spa
was a very beautiful place, very cheap, but it was
deserted. There were only two or three English
families there, but they were all cocktails, as sport-
ing men would say.

"We are therefore quite alone, which pleases
me. I was tired of bustle, and noise, and excite-
ment, and here there is room for meditation, e'en
to madness, as Calista says, although I do not
intend to carry my thoughts quite so far. I write
very little, just enough to amuse me, and make
memorandums, and think. In the morning I
learn German, which I have resolved to con-
quer, although at forty one's memory is not quite

338 THE MOST GORGEOUS

so amenable as it ought to be. At all events, I
have no master, so if the time is thrown away,
the money will be saved."

He believes she sometimes looked at the
Metropolitan ; if so, she would see he had be-
gun his " Diary of a Blaze " in its pages ; at home
they thought it very good light magazine stuff,
and liked it. " I mean, however, that it shall not
all be quite nonsense. I hope the 'Book of
Beauty* goes on well. I know that you, and
Mrs. Norton, and I are the three looked up to,
to provide for the public taste.

" I never thought that I should feel a pleasure
in idleness ; but I do now. I had done too much,
and I required repose, or rather repose to some
portions of my brain. I am idle here to my
heart's content, and each day is but the precursor
of its second. I am like a horse, which has been
worked too hard, turned out to grass, and I hope
I shall come out again as fresh as a two-year-old. I
walk about and pick early flowers with the children,
sit on a bench in the beautiful allies vertes which
we have here, smoke my cigar, and meditate till
long after the moon is in the zenith. Then I lie
on the sofa and read French novels, or I gossip
with any one I can pick up in the streets.
Besides which I wear out my old clothes ; and
there is a great pleasure in having a coat on which
gives you no anxiety. I expect that by October
I shall be all right again.

LADY BLESSINGTON 339

" I am afraid this will be a very uninteresting
letter ; but what can you expect from one who is
living the life of a hermit, and who never even
takes the trouble to wind up his watch ; who
takes no heed of time, and feels an interest in
the price of strawberries and green peas, because
the children are very fond of them. I believe
that this is the first epoch of real quiet that
I have had in my stormy life, and every day
I feel more and more inclined to dream away
my existence.

" Farewell, my dear Lady Blessington ; present
my best wishes to the Count D'Orsay, beau et
brave. Once more, with thanks, adieu."

In this year Bulwer obtained a legal separation
from his wife ; nervous irritability and consequent
quarrels having already parted them. Still work-
ing at high pressure, on his return from Italy,
in 1834, he had written "The Last Days of
Pompeii," and published " Rienzi " the following
year. In the early autumn, at Macready's sug-
gestion, he wrote a play called " The Duchess de
la Valliere," which was produced in the first month
of the coming year. Meanwhile, he was seeking
quiet and rest in the country, from where he
writes to his old friend, in a letter dated Sep-
tember I /th : " Here I am rusticating calmly
amongst the apples of Devonshire. I made an
agreeable and prolonged tour through Hampshire
by the New Forest ; and skirting the Devonshire

340 THE MOST GORGEOUS

coast, arrived safely at my present abode, some
few miles from the sea.

" My avocations are as simple as my history.
I 'literatise' away the morning, ride at three, go
to bathe at five, dine at six, and get through the
evening as best I may, sometimes by correcting
a proof.

" What villainous weather, — wind and rain —
rain and wind. I suspect that rain and wind are
to an English heaven what beefsteaks and mutton
chops are to an English inn. They profess to
have everything else, but you are sure to have
the steak to-day and the chop to-morrow. I
have had only one glimpse of the sun since I
have been here, and it was then so large that
I took it for half a sovereign, which I had lost
the day before. . . .

" Pray write and tell me all your news. I long
to have a breeze from the Isle of Beauty, and when
I receive your letter shall fancy it summer. Long
after youth leaves one for good, it comes back for
a flying visit, in every recollection of friendship, in
every association of grace."

Before this year ended, a notable figure was
added to Lady Blessington's circle, in the person
of Prince Louis Napoleon Bonaparte, son of
Louis Napoleon, King of Holland, and of Hor-
tense, daughter of the Empress Josephine by her
first marriage. By the death of the great Napo-
leon's son, the Due de Reichstadt, in 1832, Prince

LADY BLESSINGTON 341

Louis became, in the opinion of himself and his
followers, heir to the throne of France, his attempt
on which, in 1836, caused him to be banished to
the United States, from whence he set sail for
England and took up his residence in London,
there to await another opportunity of asserting his
claim.

As already stated, Lady Blessington had met
the ex-Queen of Holland at Rome, and received
from her a superb sapphire ring, set with dia-
monds. The friendship established by Lady
Blessington with his mother had paved the way
for his reception at Gore House, where he was
graciously welcomed, and had the opportunity of
meeting some of the highest ministers of state,
whose good will, it was presumed, might prove
serviceable to him when he occupied a position
of which he then only dreamt.

Heavy-lidded, pallid-faced, reticent, he was ob-
servant and thoughtful ; and, though not a brilliant
member of Lady Blessington's circle, he was one
who caused much interest as a refugee, as one
who adventured, and before whom possibilities lay ;
as a man, moreover, who exercised a strange mag-
netic influence over all who approached him, which
they found impossible to resist.

It was in 1836 that Lady Blessington became
acquainted with John Forster, who was soon to
become one of her warmest friends. At this time
he was a man of four and twenty, whose abilities

342 LADY BLESSINGTON

were already recognised; for from 1832 he had
been writing for the Courier and the Athen<zumt
and in 1833 had been appointed as dramatic and
literary critic to the Examiner.

CHAPTER XV.

Failing Health — Providing for Others — John Varley, Artist
and Mystic — The Science of the Stars — Bulwer's Interest
in Mysticism — William Blake — The Ghost of a Flea —
Lady Blessington's Crystal — Letters from Disraeli — Wil-
liam Archer Shee's Impressions of Madame Guiccioli —
Letters from Lady Blessington, Bulwer, and Landor — Bril-
liant Reception at Gore House — D'Orsay and His Debts —
Letter from Prince Louis Napoleon.

'ILL urged to work by demands for
money, which daily became more press-
ing, Lady Blessington published a new
novel, entitled "The Confessions of an Elderly
Gentleman," early in 1837. The strain which
incessant work entailed upon her injured her
health ; and she suffered from neuralgia, from
weakened nerves, and general prostration. Then
her time being so fully occupied, she was unable
to take much exercise, and therefore grew stout,
an unbecoming condition which she much de-
plored.

In a letter written on the igth of April, in this
year, she tells Landor :

14 1 have been indeed very unwell of late, but am now,
thank God, considerably better. The truth is, the numer-
343

344 THE MOST GORGEOUS

ous family of father, mother, sister, brother and his six
children, that I have to provide for, compels me to write
when my health would demand a total repose from literary
exertion, and this throws me back.

" Mais que faire ? A thousand thanks for your most
kind offer of literary assistance, and for the charming
scene from ' Orestes,' which is full of power. How glad
I shall be to see you again at Gore House. Do pray pay
me a visit, whenever you can make up your mind to move ;
for be assured no one can more truly enjoy or value your
society than I do. I ordered my publishers to send you
one of the first copies of my new novel, which I hope
has reached you. The story is only a vehicle to convey a
severe censure on the ultra fashionables of London, and the
book has been very indulgently received.

" Mrs. Fairlie and her family are still with me, and Bella
improves daily in intelligence and beauty. We often speak
of you and wish you were with us."

But whatever anxieties troubled her mind, what-
ever physical ailment attacked her, she strove to
conceal them from her friends, whom she invari-
ably received with her characteristic graciousness,
her manner leading them to believe it was they,
not she, who created the pleasure of the hour.

It was at this time a striking and singular
figure might be seen in her drawing-room. This
was none other than John Varley, one of the
founders of the Society of Painters in Water-
colours, an artist, a mystic, an astrologer. A man
of great stature, his face was rugged and earnest,
his eyes had the sadness of the seers. Lady
Blessington was sufficiently broad-minded to feel

LADY BLESSINGTON 345

interested in all theories, philosophies, and sciences,
and rather than deny the possibility of facts that
were outside her own experience, or repudiate
statements that seemed incredible and erroneous,
she preferred to hear them discussed" and ex-
plained, deferring her judgment until knowledge
had been obtained.

Seated beside her chair of state at the end of
the long library, where she nightly received her
friends, John Varley, the wise man of her court,
discoursed to the eager circle around, on the
ancient science by which man's fate was read
by the stars, according to the constellations occu-
pied by the planets and their position to each
other at the moment of his birth. Many instances
was he ready to give regarding the marvels of this
science, practised by the wisest race the world
has known, thousands of years before the birth
of Christ.

In particular, he would tell how one morning he
had seen that before midday something serious
would happen to himself or to his property, but
to which he could not say, because the nature of
the afflicting planet, the newly discovered Her-
schel, was not well known. At all events, he had
an important engagement for that day, but would
not stir out, lest he might be run over or meet
with some other accident. A few minutes before
twelve his son found him walking up and down
his studio, he being unable to settle at his work.

346 THE MOST GORGEOUS

Varley said to his son, " I am feeling all right, I
don't think anything is going to happen to me
personally; it must be my property which is
threatened." And scarce had he spoken when a
cry of fire was heard outside ; for fire had broken
out in his house, which was not insured, and by
which he lost everything he had in the world.

He would bring witnesses to prove he had fore-
told many important facts, amongst them the date
on which William Collins died. James Ward, his
friend and brother artist, for whose children Var-
ley had cast their horoscopes, burned these hiero-
glyphics, because their predictions falling out so
truly, he was convinced that Varley held com-
merce with the devil. Nay, he would occasionally
single some stranger out of the circle around him,
the day and hour of whose birth he would demand,
and there and then, with a pencil, on the fly-leaf
of a letter, would draw a horoscope, from which he
stated facts concerning the individual's past, and
made predictions regarding the future.

None listened to him more attentively than
Bulwer, to whose mind all things mystic pre-
sented a vivid fascination, and it was from Varley
the novelist took lessons in astrology, as did at a
later date young Richard Burton, whose strange
career and Oriental travels were foreshadowed by
the artist.

Then Varley would tell of his friend, the mys-
tical artist, William Blake, who died in 1827. The

LADY BLESSINGTON 347

Philistine had regarded as mad this man, whose
amazing genius had produced poems that held
the key to spiritual knowledge, and drawn pic-
tures that are amongst the most wonderful the
world has seen. Varley would gravely narrate
how, at his suggestion, Blake would summon to
his presence such persons as David, Moses, Mark
Anjony, or Julius Caesar, whose portraits he
would proceed to draw, looking up from his paper
from time to time with straining eyes toward
presences invisible to all but himself; waiting
now and then whilst they moved or frowned, and
leaving off abruptly when they suddenly retired.
Blake in this way executed some fifty of such
pencil drawings for Varley, the most curious of
which was "The Ghost of a Flea," as he called the
strange human figure he depicted.

" As I was anxious to make the most correct
investigation in my power of the truth of these
visions," Varley would tell Lady Blessington and
her friends, " on hearing of the spiritual apparition
of a flea, I asked him if he could draw for me the
resemblance of what he saw. He instantly said
'I see him now before me/ I therefore gave him
paper and a pencil, with which he drew the por-
trait. I felt convinced, by his mode of proceeding,
that he had a real image before him ; for he left
off, and began on another part of the paper to
make a separate drawing of the mouth of the flea,
which the spirit having opened, he was prevented

348 THE MOST GORGEOUS

from proceeding with the first sketch till he had
closed it. During the time occupied in complet-
ing the drawing, the flea told him that all fleas
were inhabited by the souls of such men as were
by nature bloodthirsty to excess, and were there-
fore providentially confined to the size and forms
of insects ; otherwise, were he himself, for in-
stance, the size of a horse, he would depopulate
a great portion of the country."

One evening, when the conversation turned on
various forms of divination, Bulwer asked Lady
Blessington to show them the magic crystal which
had been given her by Namiz Pacha, in whose
family it had been in use for over six hundred
years before Christ, various generations having
regulated their lives according to the symbolic
visions seen therein. The crystal was four inches
in diameter, and had been consecrated to the sun.
It was only to be consulted during four hours in
the day, when, to those specially gifted with clair-
voyance, visions appeared in its clear depths. Lady
Blessington valued it highly because of its history,
but from the hour of its first arrival, when, under
the direction of Namiz Pacha, she had stared into
the crystal and believed herself to have seen a
sight that startled and saddened her, she could
never be induced to look into it again.

Disraeli was scarcely less interested in such
subjects than Bulwer, who, at a later date, drew
for the former a geomantic figure, from which he

LADY BLESSINGTON 349

predicted that which befell him, as the second
Lord Lytton has stated in the biography of his
father.

In the spring of the year Disraeli was a guest
at Gore House, where he corrected the proofs of
his novel, "Venetia." On returning to his father's
home he wrote to his hostess as follows :

" MY DEAR LADY : — Although it is little more than a
fortnight since I quitted your truly friendly and hospitable
roof, both of which I shall always remember with deep and
lively gratitude, it seems to me at least a far more awful
interval of time. I have waited for a serene hour to tell
you of my doings ; but serene hours are rare, and therefore
I will not be deluded into waiting any longer.

" In spite of every obstacle in the shape of harassed feel-
ings and other disagreeable accidents of life, I have not
forgotten the fair ' Venetia,' who has grown under my pater-
nal care, and as much in grace, I hope, as in stature, or
rather dimensions. She is truly like her prototype, —

« «... the child of love,
Tho' born in bitterness and nurtured in convulsion ; '

but I hope she will prove a source of consolation to her
parent, and also to her godmother, for I consider you to
stand in that relation to her. I do not think that you will
find any golden hint of our musing strolls has been thrown
away upon me ; and I should not be surprised if, in six
weeks, she may ring the bell at your hall door, and request
admittance, where I know she will find at least one sym-
pathising friend.

" I have, of course, no news from this extreme solitude.
My father advances valiantly with his great enterprise, but
works of that calibre are hewn out of the granite with slow

35<> THE MOST GORGEOUS

and elaborate strokes. Mine are but plaster-of-Paris casts,
or rather statues of snow that melt as soon as they are
fashioned.

" D'Orsay has written me kind letters, which always in-
spirit me. How are my friends, if I have any? At any
rate, how is Bulwer? I can scarcely expect you to find
time to write to me, but I need not say what pleasure your
handwriting wd afford me, not merely in pencil notes in a
chance volume. This is all very stupid, but I cod not be
quite silent. Ever your Dis."

Months later he writes her another letter, in
which he says :

" I see by the papers that you have quitted the shores of
the 'far-resounding sea,' and resumed your place in the
most charming of modern houses. I therefore venture to
recall my existence to your memory, and request the fa-
vour of hearing some intelligence of yourself, which must
always interest me. Have you been well, happy, and pros-
perous? And has that pen, plucked assuredly from the
pinion of a bird of Paradise, been idle or creative? My
lot has been as usual here, though enlivened by the pres-
ence of Lady Sykes, who has contrived to pay us two visits,
and the presence of Lord Lyndhurst, who also gave us a
fortnight of his delightful society. I am tolerably busy,
and hope to give a good account of myself and doings
when we meet, which I trust will be soon. How goes that
1 great lubber,' the Public, and how fares that mighty hoax,
the World? Who of our friends has distinguished or ex-
tinguished himself or herself? In short, as the hart for the
waterside, I pant for a little news, but chiefly of your fair
and agreeable self. The « Book of Beauty ' will soon, I
fancy, charm the public with its presence. Where have
you been? In Hampshire I heard from Lord L. How is

LADY BLESSINGTON 351

the most delightful of men and best of friends, the Admira-
ble Crichton ? I don't mean Willis, who I see has married,
a fortune I suppose, though it doth not sound like one.
How and where is Bulwer ? How are the Whigs, and how
do they feel? All here who know you send kind greetings,
and all who have not that delight, kind wishes. Peace be
within your walls, and plenteousness within your palace.
Vale. Yours affectionately."

Another visitor who stayed at Gore House at
this time was the Countess Guiccioli. William
Archer Shee, brother to the president of the
Royal Academy, who met her at one of Lady
Blessington's receptions, in May, 1837, describes
her as having "neither youth, striking beauty, nor
grace, and it is difficult to believe she ever could
have been the great poet's ideal. She is not tall,
and is thick set, devoid of air or style, and what-
ever she may have been, is no longer attractive.
Her manners, too, are neither high-bred nor gra-
cious, and altogether her appearance and bearing
are most disenchant ant. She sang several Italian
airs to her own accompaniment, in a very preten-
tious manner, and her voice is loud and somewhat
harsh. In fact, when you look at her it is not dif-
ficult to believe the story which Jekyll tells of her,
that she sat down to sing at some great house in
London, and, after preluding with much pretension,
and when all around were on the tiptoe of expec-
tation, she suddenly stopped, put her hands behind
her in a convulsive effort to lessen some unseen,

352 THE MOST GORGEOUS

but apparently not unfelt, pressure in the region of
the waist and exclaimed, with a laugh, ' Dio buotw,
lo troppo mangiato — Good God, I've eaten too
much.'

" Last night," he adds, " she was seen at a dis-
advantage, as our hostess and her sister, Madame
San Marseault, were both radiant, and their bril-
liant toilets cast into the shade the somewhat
dowdy costume of the countess. The fact is, that
Lady Blessington is conspicuous for her dress,
which is always in excellent taste ; it is always
adapted to 'set off the attractions and soften the
exuberance of a figure where the only defect is
the embonpoint, the effect of which, however, she
knows how to mitigate with much skill."

When Madame Guiccioli had returned to Italy
from visiting Gore House, Lady Blessington as-
sures her it appeared a long, long time since she
had left, since when the writer had anxiously
Jooked for the assurance that her friend had got
through her voyage and journey safely, and with
as little inconvenience as might be hoped. "I
have missed you continually and thought of you
often," Lady Blessington continues. " You are so
warm-hearted and affectionate that, were you less
amiable by many degrees than you are, it would be
very difficult, after having enjoyed your society for
a few weeks, to resign it without deep regret. But
I console myself with the hope that you will come
to me next year again, when we shall renew our

LADY BLESSINGTON 353

sober conversations by the fireside, like two phi-
losophers who have acquired wisdom by the only
true road to that science — suffering.

" You ask me about my health, but, alas ! I can
give you no satisfactory account of it. I went to
Margate the Tuesday after you left me, and re-
mained there eight days, when, finding the sea air
too cold for me, I returned home, and though not
better in health, find it less irksome to be ill at
home than at an inn. I send you the ring en-
graved. It has your cypher in the centre, and a
Marguerite and a penste on the sides, to remind
you of one who thinks often and affectionately
of you."

Lady Blessington had been induced to try the
air of Margate by Buhver, who was staying there
in September 1837, in which month he wrote to
her:

" People walk about here in white shoes and enjoy them-
selves as much as if they were not Englishmen. I lodge
over a library, and hear a harp nightly, by which the fash-
ionable world is summoned to raffle «for card-racks and
work-boxes. It commences at nine and twangs on till
eleven ; at twelve I am in the arms of Morpheus.

" An innocent life enough, very odd that one should enjoy
it, mats tous Us gouts sont respectables. Though Margate
itself be not exactly the region for you to illumine, I can-
not help thinking that some grand solitary villa on this
cheerful coast would brace and invigorate you. The air is
so fine, the sands so smooth, and there is so much variety
in the little island.

354 THE MOST GORGEOUS

" How is le beau Roi Alfred ? I can fancy him on the
Margate pier, with the gaze of the admiring crowd fixed
upon him. But he would be nothing without white shoes.
I am now going to stroll along the sands, and teaze shrimps,
which abound in little streamlets, and are singularly playful
considering that they are born to be boiled."

A couple of weeks later, writing from the same
place, he says : " I have been whiling away the time
here, with nothing much better than the mere en-
joyment of a smooth sea and fair sky, which a
little remind me of my beloved Naples. Margate
and Naples — what association. After all, a very
little could suffice to make us happy, were it
not for our own desires to be happier still. If
we could but reduce ourselves to mechanism,
we could be contented. Certainly, I think, as we
grow older, we grow more cheerful, externals
please us more, and were it not for those dead
passions which we call memories, and which have
ghosts no exorcism can lay, we might walk on
soberly to the future, and dispense with excite-
ment by the way. If we cannot stop time, it is
something to shoe him with felt, and prevent his
steps from creaking."

Throughout the winter Lady Blessington con-
tinued ailing, and would gladly have laid aside her
work, had such been possible, but every day
seemed to increase the necessity for labour.

In January, 1838, she writes to a correspondent
that her silence, for which she begs to be excused,

LADY BLESSINGTON 355

has not proceeded from want of regard, " but has
been compelled by the pressure of literary labour
joined to a delicacy of health that still renders me
a sad invalid."

In the following month her old friend Landor
writes to tell her they have a bright and beautiful
sun that morning, which makes him imagine he
sees her in her "enchanted garden feeding a
young pheasant or teaching a young flower to
look gracefully before you bring her out and pre-
sent her in the drawing-room.

" Here in Bath I am leading a quiet and there-
fore pleasant life. My occupation has been the
correction of my ' Imaginary Conversations,' or
rather the insertion of certain links in them. If
you have any friends who are readers and not rich,
and if you think my * Pentameron ' will please them,
you have only to show this to MM. Saunders and
Otley, and they will give you as many copies as
you want. So certain was I that it never could
gratify the public, that my first idea was to order
the printing of but one hundred copies. I broke
this determination, but I kept the other, which
was to prohibit the announcement of the publica-
tion in any way whatever. When I return to it
after a year or two, with a fresh eye, perhaps I
may discover things to mend or omit. At present
I have looked for them and cannot find them. The
revisal of my ' Imaginary Conversations ' has cost
me more time than the composition. For this,

THE MOST GORGEOUS

after all, is my great work ; the others are
boudoir-tables to lay it on — tables with very
slender legs, though fancifully inlaid and pretty
well polished."

A week later, on the i8th of February, he
writes to acknowledge the receipt of her novel,
just published, "The Confessions of an Elderly
Lady," "and of all who heard confessions, I think
nobody, shorn or unshorn, was more attentive or
more delighted," he tells her ; and then continues :
" As my reading in future will be chiefly, if not
only, novels, I hope you will ensure me at least
one of the best the few years I shall be able
to enjoy anything. Your scenes and characters
are real, your reflections profound and admirably
expressed. I could not but remark some of the
more delicate and recondite with my pencil, though
so beautiful a book ought scarcely to be treated
with so daring a liberty. When you do me the
favour of writing to me again, pray give me Fors-
ter's address, for I want to send him the corrected
edition of my < Imaginary Conversations.' ' '

It is about this time he thinks of having his
" Conversations " illustrated, as such might render
a volume more salable, not that he cares a fig
either for popularity or profit ; "for," says he, "if
ever I am popular I shall never know anything
about it, and if ever I get money I shall neither
spend nor save it. I have already more than I
want. But I really should like to be able to make

LADY BLESSINGTON 357

a pretty present of such a volume as no other man
living can write, embellished with worthy engrav-
ings." Later he tells her a significant fact, " Last
week I sent Saunders and Otley a hundred and
forty pounds as a fine for committing the folly
of authorship. Next year I shall pay them eighty
more." And later still comes this bitter confi-
dence : " I heard from Florence not long ago, but
nothing from that quarter is likely to give me
pleasure or composure. I wish I could utterly
forget all connected with it. But the waves of
oblivion dash against my Tuscan terraces, and the
spray reaches my family, and blinds the eyes that
should be turned toward me, for other waters fill
my heart with bitterness. I am, dear lady, ever
your Ladyship's very obliged servV Then she
writes to tell him she contemplates publishing a
journal she kept whilst abroad. This will for
awhile save the strain of imagination which novel-
writing required, and the book she hoped would
bring her money. She intended to call it "The
Idler in Italy." Might she mention her meeting
with him in its pages ? In reply, Landor wrote :
" I hope you received my answer to your last kind
letter. I sent it enclosed in a parcel addressed
to Forster. It contained nothing but my sense
of gratitude for the honour your Ladyship has
done me in recollecting me so far back as Italy,
and the reason why I was silent when you an-
nounced it a little while before. I am always too

358 THE MOST GORGEOUS

proud when I am mentioned by you, and take a
mischievous delight in seeing what a number of
enemies a voice of praise always brings out against
me. Boys have much the same feeling when they
see curs exasperated, knowing as they ride along
that the said curs cannot reach their stirrup
leathers. If they could, the laughter might be
somewhat in a lower key."

Before the year 1838 was out she had published
her novel, called " The Governess," on which she
had been at work for some time. Landor consid-
ered it the most admirable of all her books, the
one which most delighted him. " It has left," he
tells her, "a deep impression on my memory.
* The Governess ' is more than a match for ' The
Elderly Gentleman.' She brought tears into the
eyes of another who is somewhat of that descrip-
tion — par-troppot an Italian young lady would
say."

In return, she writes to Landor regarding lines
addressed by him to his son Arnold, then in his
twentieth year, which had appeared in the Exam-
iner. " If he read them," says Lady Blessington,
"how can he resist flying to you?" and then she
continues, "Alas, half our pains through life arise
from being misunderstood, and men of genius,
above all others, are the most subject to this mis-
fortune ; for a misfortune, and a serious one I call
it, when those near and dear to us mistake us,
and erect between their hearts and ours barriers

LADY BLESSINGTON 359

that even love cannot break down, though pride
humbles itself to assist the endeavour."

It was in October she wrote these words to
Landor, and in the same month she tells John
Forster " she has been a sad invalid of late and is
making but slow progress toward health. My
literary labours, slight as the subjects to which
they have been directed are, have fatigued me,
and I now discern light works may prove as heavy
to the writer as they too frequently do to the
reader.'1

Still with a smiling face she continued to receive
the friends who gathered around her, most of them
unaware of the struggle for health and money
which she endured.

In May, 1839, William Archer Shee again de-
scribes an " unusually brilliant " reception at Gore
House, whose hostess, he adds, has the art of col-
lecting around her all that is best worth knowing
in the male society of London. Cabinet ministers,
poets, painters, and politicians were all assembled
in her beautiful rooms. "One would think," he
writes, "that such varied ingredients would not
amalgamate well, but would counteract or neutral-
ise each other, rather than form a mixture to the
taste of all ; but such is not the case. Under the
judicious and graceful presidency of the attractive
hostess, the society that meets in her salons has a
charm that few reunions of the most learned or the
most witty can offer.

360 THE MOST GORGEOUS

" She has the peculiar and most unusual talent
of keeping the conversation in a numerous circle
general, and of preventing her guests from divid-
ing into little selfish pelotons. With a tact unsur-
passed, she contrives to draw out even the most
modest tyro from his shell of reserve, and by
appearing to take an interest in his opinion gives
him the courage to express it ; all her visitors seem
by some hidden influence to find their level, yet
they leave her house satisfied with themselves.
While drawing them out, and affording to each of
them an opportunity for riding within moderation
his own particular hobby, she seizes the right mo-
ment for diverting the conversation into a channel
that will give somebody else a chance. The popu-
lar M. P. is made to feel that there are other
interests waiting to be discussed besides those
connected with politics and party ; the garrulous
leader of his circuit awakes to the conviction that
he cannot here, as is his wont at the dinner-table,
hold forth to the exclusion of every voice but his
own ; and the shallow man of fashion sees the
rising painter or the budding poet deferred to on
matters with which he is little conversant. In
fact, the bore, the coxcomb, and the cynic have
each to confine himself within the limits of good
taste and good breeding ; and though Hayward
still continues to talk more than any one else,
though Warran displays the overweening vanity
that has marred his social as well as his forensic

LADY BLESSINGTON 361

success, and though Rogers is allowed to sneer at
his dearest friends, still the society has a wonder-
ful charm for those who, like myself, go more to
listen than to talk.

"Among the company last night was Prince
Louis Napoleon. He was quiet, silent, and inof-
fensive, as, to do him justice, he generally is, but
he does not impress one with the idea that he has
inherited his uncle's talents any more than his
fortunes. He went away before the circle quite
broke up, leaving, like Sir Peter Teazle, < his char-
acter behind him/ and the few remaining did not
spare him, but discussed him in a tone that was
far from flattering. D'Orsay, however, who came
in later with Lord Pembroke, stood up manfully
for his friend, which was pleasant to see."

Disraeli, who was one of the company on this
occasion, was now about to take the most impor-
tant step in his life. Mr. Wyndham Lewis, a
man of great wealth, and a member for Maidstone,
died suddenly on March, 1838, leaving his wife
a magnificent house at Grosvenor Gate and a
handsome income. The circle of their friends
was wide, and innumerable messages and letters
of sympathy poured in upon the widow, none of
which was so remarkable as that written by Mrs.
Bulwer. On her marriage her husband had given
her a little Blenheim dog that became such a
favourite with his mistress that she seldom allowed
it out of her sight. She had named it Fairy, and

362 THE MOST GORGEOUS

had tiny visiting-cards printed for the pet, which
were left on friends and neighbours when she
called on them. The dog died about the same
time as Wyndham Lewis, to whose wife Mrs.
Bulwer wrote a letter of condolence, in which, as
her son narrates, she compared "their respective
losses, lamenting her own as being in the nature
of things the heaviest and most irreparable of the
two."

Mrs. Wyndham Lewis was some fifteen years
the senior of Disraeli, and had never been a beauty ;
but she was a woman of great intelligence, sound
judgment, and wide sympathy. He was deeply in
debt, and she could give him the independence
for which he had ever longed, so that he married
her in August, 1839, seventeen months after her
husband's death, she being then fifty. Before
this event took place, Disraeli wrote to Lady
Blessington to thank her for her new book, " Des-
ultory Thoughts and Reflections," which he says
he gave Mrs. Wyndham Lewis who is a great
admirer of aphoristic writing. She was, he con-
tinues, " to mark what she had approved, and the
volume is in consequence lying on her table, with
scarcely a margin not deeply scored. I should
have written to thank you for this agreeable recol-
lection of me, but have intended every day to do
so in person.

" It is indeed a long time since we met, but I
flatter and console myself that we shall meet very

LADY BLESSINGTON 363

soon and very often. But, in truth, with a gouty
parent and impending matrimony, the House of
Commons and the mechanical duties of society,
the last two months have been terribly monopo-
lised ; but I can assure you that a day seldom
passes, that I do not think or speak of you, and
I hope I shall always be allowed by you to count
the lady of Gore House among my dearest and
most valued friends. D'Orsay was charming yes-
terday."

In a letter written a few weeks after his mar-
riage, and before going abroad with his wife, Dis-
raeli states that he and the latter had returned
from Bradenham. "I remember," he says, "your
kind wish that we should meet before our de-
parture, and if not inconvenient to you I would
propose calling at Gore House to-morrow with my
dear Mary Anne, who, I am sure, will be delighted
by finding herself under a roof that has proved to
me at all times so hospitable and devoted. I hope
that his engagements will not prevent our meeting
our friend Alfred, for I hardly suppose we shall
have another opportunity of being together for
some time. I should think about three would not
be unsuitable to you."

Meanwhile Count D'Orsay continued to surprise
the town by the extravagance and novelty of his
dress, and to fascinate his friends by his easy good
nature, his brilliancy, his desire to please, which is
the great secret of social success. " We send back

364 THE MOST GORGEOUS

our dearest D'Orsay," Disraeli wrote to Lady
Blessington, when the count had been v staying
with him at Bradenham, " with some of the booty
of yesterday's sport as our homage to you. His
visit has been very short but very charming, and
everybody here loves him as much as you and I
do."

On Lady Blessington leaving Seamore Place,
D'Orsay had given up his house in Curzon Street
and taken another at Kensington Gore, not far
from her residence. Notwithstanding the fortune
he had gained with his wife, he had even before
leaving Paris been involved in debt ; and after
a few years spent in London, his inability to
understand the value of money, and his gambling
losses, made him a debtor to a still greater amount.
For a long while the tradesmen with whom he
dealt refrained from sending him their bills, lest
he might withdraw his patronage, which secured
them the custom of those who would vie with
or imitate him. It was said that his tailors,
on sending home his clothes, were wont to slip
some bank-notes into the pockets, and that on
one occasion when this practice was omitted,
D'Orsay returned the garments to their maker,
saying he had forgotten to line the pockets. This
story may be as untrue as the statement made
by a Parisian paper, Le Globe, to the effect that
every day he gave a guinea to a beggar who
handed him a light for his cigar.

LADY BLESSINGTON 365

An anecdote, which has the merit of being
veracious in detail and characteristic of the man,
states that having met Major Crauford, with
whom he was well acquainted, D'Orsay learned
from him he was about to sell his commission
in order to pay his debts. Such a proceeding
seemed extraordinary to the count, who begged
of him to alter his determination, but the officer
replied he must either lose his honour or sell
his commission, for no alternative was left.

"Lend me ten pounds," said D'Orsay, who
could not see why he should not have some of
the money about to be wasted in payments. The
major disliked to comply with this request, which,
however, he found it impossible to refuse. Hav-
ing obtained the sum, D'Orsay parted from him
light-heartedly, after his fashion; but early next
morning he called on the major and coolly began to
empty his pockets of gold and bank-notes until he
had counted out the sum of ,£750, which he told
Crauford was his. The bewildered major thought
his visitor had gone mad, but D'Orsay merely
laughed at his surprise. " I staked your ten pounds
at Crockfords," he said, "and won this sum, which
is justly yours ; for if I had lost, you never would
have got back the money you lent me."

Though D'Orsay and his wife had parted in
1834, owing to delays in the Court of Chancery
it was not until six years later that a legal separa-
tion was drawn up.

366 THE MOST GORGEOUS

In accordance with the terms of this, Count
D'Orsay renounced all his interests in the Blessing-
ton estates, "in consideration of certain annuities,
amounting to ,£2,467, being redeemed or allowed
to remain charged upon the estates (the sum then
necessary to redeem them being calculated at
.£23,500), and also in consideration of a sum
of .£55,000 to be paid to him: ,£13,000, part
thereof, as soon as it could be raised, and the
remaining £42,000 within ten years."

These latter sums were not paid until the
estates had been sold in 1851, when, with interest,
they amounted to ,£80,000, and that amount was
handed over to creditors to whom D'Orsay had
given securities on the estates. The annuities,
and the amount paid to his creditors out of the es-
tates, amounted to upwards of £103,500. Whilst
residing in England he had an allowance of ,£550
a year from the Court of Chancery in Ireland,
whilst his wife had .£400.

In 1839 the first part of the "Idler in Italy"
was published, and from none of her friends did
Lady Blessington receive such enthusiastic praise
as from him whose appreciation she valued most.
Writing to her of the book, Landor tells her,
" Yesterday was a day of perfect delight to me.
At eleven the 'Idler in Italy' came to me, and
we did not part till 10.50 this morning. I burst
out, however, at page 244, on 'the sublimity of
our dense fogs, which leave so much to the

LADY BLESSINGTON 367

imagination.' Ay, truly, more than it can ever
get through.

"This is the first time in my life I ever was
in a hurry to put an end even to my part of
conversation with you, but, really, I look every
moment from the paper to the book with a grudg-
ing eye, and cannot but think that I am playing
the fool, who write when I could be reading.

"Accept my best thanks for so many hours of
exquisite delight, so many just thoughts, generous
sentiments, and pure imaginations. How glad I
am now that I lost several days before the vol-
umes came to me. I shall often take a trip into
Italy with you, now you have been making a road
for me, both more pleasant and more desirable
than any of Bonaparte's/'

She was still "working away like a steam-
engine," as D'Orsay used to say. Toward the
end of this year Barry Cornwall writes to express
his wonder and concern at her untiring labour.
" I hope," he says, "you will not continue to give
up your nights to literary undertakings. Believe
me (who have suffered bitterly for this imprudence),
that nothing in the world of letters is worth the
sacrifice of health, and strength, and animal spirits,
which will certainly follow this excess of labour."

In 1836, whilst continuing to edit the " Book of
Beauty," she had undertaken to write the entire
letterpress for an annual called " Gems of Beauty ; "
her contributions consisting of "fanciful illustra-

368 THE MOST GORGEOUS

tions in verse to twelve engravings of various
subjects," and in 1840 she added one more of
these publications, the " Keepsake," to her editorial
care. In this latter year she brought out the
second part of her " Idler in Italy," and also
published a novel, "The Belle of the Season."
She was now at the height of her popularity,
and striving to reap what benefit she could from
her success by working night and day.

This desire for gain was not the result of greed,
for never did woman give more freely and fully.
Indeed, it was her unselfishness and generosity
which was the means of gradually swamping her
in debt. The number of relatives depending on
her, who alone of all the family could help, was for
ever on the increase. Not only, as she stated in
one of her letters, had she to support her father,
her youngest sister, her brother and his family,
but Mrs. Fairlie and her children were a heavy
drag upon her ; and there was for ever a nephew
to be educated, and to be fitted out for India or
the colonies, where her interest procured them
positions.

Added to this, she allowed pensions to old ser-
vants, she largely aided the mother of her friend,
Miss Landon, and she gave far more than she
could afford to the needy musicians and literary
people, who were continually besieging her with
begging letters or personally applying to her for
aid.

LADY BLESSINGTON 369

S. C. Hall narrates how he once became inter-
ested in a young man of good education and some
literary taste, who, with his wife and two children,
were in a state of absolute want. "After some
thought as to what had best be done for him, I
suggested a situation at the post-office as a letter-
carrier. He seized at the idea, but, being better
aware than I was of the difficulties of obtaining
it, expressed himself to that effect.

"I wrote to Lady Blessington, telling her the
young man's story, and asking if she could get
him the appointment. Next day I received a
letter from her, enclosing one from the secretary,
regretting his utter inability to meet her wishes,
such appointments, although so comparatively
insignificant, resting with the postmaster-general.

"I handed this communication to the young
man, who was by no means disappointed, for he
had not hoped for success. What was my surprise
and delight, however, when the very next day
there came to me another letter from Lady Bless-
ington, enclosing one from the postmaster-general,
conferring the appointment on the young man.
This appointment, I believe, he still holds." And
writing of Lady Blessington, on another occasion,
he says, "I have known of her so many kindly
and generous acts, so much considerate sympathy,
so ready a will to render timely help, so earnest
a mind to assist any suffering artist or struggling
professor of letter."

370 THE MOST GORGEOUS

No wonder that the Marquis Wellesley wrote to
her, " If half the happiness you dispense to others
is returned to yourself, you will be amongst the
happiest of the human race. There is no great
demand upon the gratitude of the world, to com-
promise your just claims, by the payment of one-
half."

Nothing vexed her more than to be unable to
pay bills sent in to her, and her greatest anxiety
was to keep out of debt. And that she might be
free from such a burden, she strove to curtail
expenses, and she laboured incessantly.

Writing in the middle of this year, in 1 840, to a
friend, she says : " When I tell you that I have no
less than three works passing through the press,
and have to furnish the manuscript to keep the
printers at work for one of them, you may judge
of my unceasing and overwhelming occupation,
which leaves me time neither for pleasure, nor
for taking air or exercise enough for health. I
am literally worn out, and look for release from my
literary toils more than ever slave did from bond-
age. I never get out any day before five o'clock,
have offended every friend or acquaintance I have,
by never calling at their doors, and am suffering
in health from too much writing."

The vexations of her daily life were, at this time,
much increased by a rumour, which associated
D'Orsay with aiding and abetting Prince Louis
Napoleon in the attempt made by him this year

LADY BLESSINGTON 371

to force his claims upon France. The rumour
was without foundation, for both she and D'Orsay
regarded his effort as "nothing short of mad-
ness ; " and the canard was harmful to D'Orsay,
who then contemplated seeking some appointment
in connection with the French embassy. In a
letter, dated September 17, 1840, she writes to
her friend, Henry Bulwer, who was now charg6
d'affaires in Paris : " I am never surprised at evil
reports, however unfounded, still less so at any
acts of friendship and manliness on your part.
One is more consoled for the mortification inflicted
by calumnies, by having a friend so prompt to re-
move the injurious impressions they were likely
to make. Alfred charges me to authorise you to
contradict, in the most positive terms, the reports
about his having participated in, or even known
of, the intentions of Prince Louis. Indeed, had
he suspected them, he would have used every
effort in his power to dissuade him from putting
them into execution.

"Alfred, as well as I, entertain the sincerest
regard for the prince ; but of his plans, we knew
no more than you did. Alfred by no means wishes
to conceal his attachment to the prince, and still
less that any exculpation of himself should in
any way reflect on him ; but who, so well as you,
whose tact and delicacy are equal to your good
nature, can fulfil the service to Alfred that we
require ?

372 THE MOST GORGEOUS

" Lady C writes to me that I too am mixed

up in the reports : but I defy the malice of my
greatest enemy to prove that I even dreamt of
the prince's intentions or plans."

Prince Louis Napoleon's attempt resulted in his
being sentenced to imprisonment for life in the
fortress of Ham. From there, on January 13,
1841, he wrote to his old friend, saying, "I have
received only to-day your letter of January, because,
being in English, it was necessary to send it to the
ministry in Paris to be read. I am very grateful
for your remembrance, and I think with grief that
none of your previous letters have reached me. I
have received from Gore House only one letter,
from Count D'Orsay, which I hastened to answer
while I was at the Conciergerie. I bitterly regret
that my letter was intercepted, for in it I expressed
all the gratitude at the interest he took in my mis-
fortunes. I will not describe to you all I have
suffered. Your poetic soul and your noble heart
have guessed how cruel the position is, where
defence is restricted within impassable limits, and
reserve is placed in justification.

"In such a case the only consolation against
all calumnies and strokes of fate is the voice that
speaks from the bottom of your heart and absolves
you, and the reception of marks of sympathy
from exceptionally gifted natures, that, like yours,
madam, are separated from the crowd by the
elevation of their sentiments, by the independence

LADY BLESSINGTON 373

of their character, and never let their affections or
judgments depend on the caprices of fortune or
the fatalities of destiny.

"I have been for three months in the fort of
Ham, with General Montholon and Doctor Con-
neau. All communication from without is refused
to me. Nobody has yet been able to come and
see me. I will send you some day a view of the
citadel, that I have drawn from a little lithograph :
for, as you will understand, I don't know the out-
side of the fort.

" My thoughts often wander to the place where
you live, and I recall with pleasure the time I have
passed in your amiable society, which the Count
D'Orsay still brightens with his frank and spiritual
gaiety. However, I do not desire to leave the
place where I am, for here I am in my place.
With the name I bear, I must have the gloom of
a cell or the light of power. If you should deign,
madam, to give me sometimes news of London
society, and of a country in which I have been
too happy not to love it, you would confer a great
pleasure on me."

CHAPTER XVI.

Friendship of Dickens for Lady Blessington — His Letters —
The Shadows Deepen — Macready Writes — Letters from
Mrs. Charles Mathews — Charles Dickens Abroad — Bulwer
Is Melancholy — D'Orsay Becomes an Artist by Profession —
The Duke of Wellington Is Pleased — Portrait of Byron —
An Ivy-leaf from Fiesole.

IADY BLESSINGTON had now passed
her fiftieth year, and her tendency to
stoutness had increased. The symmet-
rical outlines that at an earlier age had distin-
guished her figure disappeared, but the old grace
of movement remained. Her natural good taste
led her to submit to the inevitable with becoming
dignity. She sought no aid from art in order to
lessen in appearance the fulness of her age. S.
C. Hall said no one more carefully studied how
to grow old gracefully than did Lady Blessington.
"No one knew better that the charms of youth
are not the attractions of age. She was ever
admirably dressed, but affected none of the adorn-
ments that become deformities when out of har-
mony with time."

He adds that there was nothing artificial in
aught she said or did; nothing hurried or self-

374

LADY BLESSINGTON 375

distrustful about her. " She seemed perfectly
conscious of power, but without the slightest as-
sumption or pretence. It was easy to believe in
her fascinating influence over all with whom she
came in contact ; but it was as little difficult to
feel assured that such influence would be exercised
with generosity, consideration, and sympathy."

From one of her own sex, Mrs. Newton Cros-
land, who first met her in 1840, we have a per-
sonal description of Lady Blessington as she
appeared at that time. "Through all the years
I knew her," says this writer, " she never varied
her style of head-dress. What hair was visible
was of a chestnut hue, braided down the cheeks,
while straight across the forehead, in what I can
only describe as the lady abbess fashion, was a
piece of rich lace or blond, but the same material
was brought down one side of the face and drawn
tight, as if supporting the chin, and invisibly fas-
tened on the other. The lace set her face as if in
a frame, and hid many telltale lines of advancing
years." Mrs. Newton Crosland not only gives her
impressions of Lady Blessington, but also of the
library, where she usually received ; a place the vis-
itor thought " sacred to kindly thoughts and kindly
speech, where bright ideas had birth and angry
words were never spoken."

One of the first letters Lady Blessington re-
ceived in January, 1841, came from Bulwer, who,
in 1838, had been made a baronet. As indus-

376 THE MOST GORGEOUS

trious as herself, he had since that time written
"The Lady of Lyons/' "Richelieu," "The Sea
Captain," and "Money." Nor had his wife been
idle, for in 1839 sne na(^ published a novel,
" Cheveley, or the Man of Honour," in which her
husband, under the thinnest disguise, figured as
the villain. Writing to Lady Blessington, he tells
her he shrinks "from returning to London with
its fever and strife. I am tired of the stone of
Sisyphus, the eternal rolling up and the eternal
rolling down. I continue to bask delighted in
the light of Schiller. A new great poet is like
a discovery of a lost paradise. It reconciles us
to the gliding away of youth, when we think that,
after all, the best pleasures are those which youth
and age can enjoy alike, — the intellectual."

About this time she became acquainted with
Charles Dickens, who had already written " Pick-
wick," " Oliver Twist," " Nicholas Nickleby,"
"The Old Curiosity Shop," and "Barnaby
Rudge." Forster vouches for the warm regard
the great author had for her, "and for all the
inmates of Gore House; how uninterruptedly
joyous and pleasurable were his associations with
them ; and what valued help they gave him in his
preparation for Italy."

In a letter dated June 2, 1841, Dickens writes
to her : " The year goes round so fast that, when
anything occurs to remind me of its whirling, I
lose my breath and am bewildered. So your

LADY BLESSINGTON 377

handwriting last night had as startling an effect
upon me as though you had sealed your note with
one of your own eyes."

This note was to remind him of a contribution
he had promised for one of her annuals, which, " in
cheerful duty bound and with Heaven's grace," he
declares he will redeem. But at that moment he
hasn't the faintest idea how ; however, he is going
to Scotland to see Jeffrey, and whilst away will
look out "for some accident, incident, or subject,
for small description," which he will send her on
his return. He knows she will take the will for
the deed.

He then inquires if she has seen Townshend's
Magnetic Boy, of whom he has no doubt she has
heard, from Count D'Orsay. " If you get him to
Gore House," he says, " don't, I entreat you, have
more than eight people — four is a better number
— to see him. He fails in a crowd, and is mar-
vellous before a few.

" I am a believer in earnest, and I am sure you
would be if you saw the boy under moderately
favourable circumstances, as I hope you will be-
fore he leaves England."

In this year she was unsettled and depressed.
In the spring she had suffered severely from
trachea, so that the doctors considered it impru-
dent for her to remain in England another winter.
And for this reason, as likewise in the hope of
curtailing her expenses, she thought of taking up

THE MOST GORGEOUS

her residence permanently in Italy, a country to
which she turned in memory continually.

In this year Count D'Orsay's liabilities swelled
to the respectable sum of .£107,000 ; this amount
being principally due to tradesmen, and quite irre-
spective of debts owing to private friends, which
amounted to about £13,000 more. At this crisis,
some efforts were made by him to pass through
the bankruptcy court, but these had to be aban-
doned, owing to the impossibility of identifying
him with either commercial or agricultural pur-
suits. It will seem strange that an idea of paying
all his debtors, and of becoming fabulously wealthy
by means of alchemy, loomed large behind the
mind of this elegant dandy. But certain it is,
that, at one time, he was filled with magnificent
visions of changing base metal into gold, by means
of the great secret, the pursuit of which had 'sapped
the life and broken the spirit of mediaeval vision-
aries. And it is possible that if he had had in his
possession the necessary funds to build the labora-
tory, and prepare the crucible, he too would have
joined the pale procession of weary searchers whose
hopes had beheld the gains on which their eyes
had never rested.

Meanwhile, as he was sauntering through the
streets one day, airy, magnificent, and smiling, a
hand was laid roughly on his shoulder, and in the
twinkling of an eye he found himself arrested for
a debt of £300 owing to his bootmaker, M' Henry,

LADY BLESSINGTON 379

of Paris. Like all his bills, this had been accumu-
lating for years, and no notice had been vouch-
safed to repeated demands for payment, so that
M' Henry reluctantly found himself obliged to take
this step. He was unwilling, however, to im-
prison his debtor, from whom he accepted certain
securities.

This arrest being made, D'Orsay believed him-
self no longer free to take the air; for in every
step behind him, in every touch upon his arm,
he would hear and feel the executor of the law,
the dreaded bailiff. The number of his creditors
outstripped his memory, and they were now re-
solved to follow an example which had proved
successful in obtaining security, if not payment
for debt. And to a man of his luxurious nature
and refined tastes, the thought of a prolonged
residence in the Fleet Prison was fraught with
horrors. There was but one means of escaping
danger, — he must no longer venture abroad, save
on Sundays, on which day he would be free from
the bailiff's clutch.

After a consultation with Lady Blessington, he
took up his residence in Gore House, where he
could continue to enjoy the society of their mutual
friends, and take exercise in the spacious grounds
attached to her mansion. It now became apparent
to the count that something must be done to mend
his fortunes, and he therefore agreed to the sug-
gestion frequently made before by Lady Blessing-

380 THE MOST GORGEOUS

ton, that he should seek employment in diplomacy,
for which his talents and characteristics peculiarly
fitted him.

Accordingly, all the interest and influence which
Lady Blessington could exercise were used to ob-
tain him the position of secretary to the French
embassy in London, or, failing that, of the secre-
taryship to the embassy at Madrid, which was at
this time vacant. At one moment, indeed, he re-
ceived positive assurances from those in a position
to give them, that he would receive the former
appointment ; and that it was only necessary, as a
matter of etiquette, that the Count St. Aulaire,
French ambassador to the court of St. James,
should ask for the nomination, to have it granted.

The highest commendations on D'Orsay's abili-
ties were given by men of rank, and stress was
laid on the services which he was capable of ren-
dering to the French government, which were
blandly received by the Count St. Aulaire. This
worthy courtier was not, however, satisfied with
such testimonies, but, according to Lady Blessing-
ton, he " consulted a coterie of foolish women, and
listening to their malicious gossiping, he concluded
that the nomination would not be popular in Lon-
don, and so was afraid to ask for it." She adds,
" It now appears that the Foreign Office at Paris
is an inquisition into the private affairs of those
who have the misfortune to have any reference to
it."

LADY BLESSINGTON 381

On this subject Henry Bulwer wrote to her :
" I think D'Orsay wrong in these things you refer
to : to have asked for London especially, and not
to have informed me how near the affair was to its
maturity when St. Aulaire went to the Duke of
B 's, because I might then have prepared opin-
ion for it here ; whereas, I first heard the affair
mentioned in a room where I had to contend
against every person present, when I stated what
I think, — that the appointment would have been
a very good one.

" But it does not now signify talking about the
matter, and saying that I should have wished our
friend to have given the matter rather an air of
doing a favour than of asking one. It is right to
say that he has acted most honourably, delicately,
and in a way which ought to have served him,
though, perhaps,, it is not likely to do so.

" The French ambassador did not, I think, wish
for the nomination. M. Guizot, I imagine, is at
this moment afraid of anything that might excite
discussion and opposition, and it is idle to disguise
from you that D'Orsay, both in England and here,
has many enemies. The best service I can do him
is by continuing to speak of him as I have done
amongst influential persons, viz., as a man whom
the government would do well to employ ; and my
opinion is, that, if he continues to wish for and to
seek employment, he will obtain it in the end.
But I don't think he will obtain the situation he

382 THE MOST GORGEOUS

wished for in London, and I think it may be some
little time before he gets such a one as he ought
to have, and that would suit him.

" The secretaryship in Spain would be an excel-
lent thing, and I would aid the marshal in anything
he might do or say respecting it. I shall be rather
surprised, however, if the present man is recalled.
Well, do not let D'Orsay lose courage. Nobody
succeeds in these things just at the moment he
desires. Remember, also, how long it was, though
I was in Parliament and had some little interest,
before I was myself fairly launched in the diplo-
matic career. Alfred has all the qualities for suc-
cess in anything, but he must give the same trouble
and pains to the pursuit he now engages in that
he has given to other pursuits previously. At all
events, though I speak frankly and merely what
I think to him, I am here and always a sincere
and affectionate friend, and most desirous to prove
myself so."

Deeper and deeper, shadows began gradually
to gather round her. In February, 1843, died
Isabella Fairlie, the little grandniece whom she
tenderly loved, the fairylike, delicate child who
would dance and caper in the sunshine, who would
sit for hours, motionless, at Lady Blessington's feet
whilst she worked, and who, whilst in pain, would
look upon that kindly face with an expression that
more than supplied the words she could never
speak.

LADY BLESSINGTON 383

" We have lost our darling Isabella," the count-
ess writes to Landor, " the dear and gifted child,
who, though deaf and dumb, possessed more intel-
ligence than thousands who can hear and speak.
Attacked about three months ago with a complaint
in her chest, I nursed her here, and had hoped for
her final recovery, when, on the 4th of January,
her poor mother's impatience to have her with her
again, induced me to take her down to Cheve-
ley. A few days after, a relapse ensued, and on
the 3ist she assigned her pure soul to God. . . .
How fond my darling Isabella was of you. Do
you remember her endearing ways and all her
attractions ? This blow has fallen heavily on us
all, and you, I know, will feel it. My heart is too
full to write more, but I could no longer leave your
letter unanswered."

Two months after the child's death, her mother
died. Affectionate to all her nieces, Lady Bless-
ington was fondest of Mrs. Fairlie, whose loss came
as a heavy blow. The letters of sympathy which
poured in on Lady Blessington, though they could
not lighten her sorrow, showed how fully it was
shared by her friends. A note from William
Macready will give the general tone her corre-
spondents expressed.

" All who are acquainted with a disposition like
yours," he says, "so quick to befriend and so sen-
sible of kindness, would wish that such a nature
should be exempt from suffering, whilst they feel

384 THE MOST GORGEOUS

with what extreme severity affliction, such as you
have been called upon to bear, must press upon
you. I do, indeed, sympathise with your griefs,
and wish with condolence there were consolation
to offer; that is only to be drawn from the re-
source of your own mind and heart, so rich in all
that is amiable. But there must be something
akin to comfort, in the reflection of how very many
mourn for your sorrows."

Her own feelings will best be understood from
the following communication which Lady Bless-
in gton addressed to Henry Bulwer. " Of all the
kind letters," she says, "received in the late be-
reavement that has left so great a blank in my life,
none have so much touched me as yours ; for
I know how to appreciate the friendship which
prompts you to snatch from time so actively and
usefully employed as yours always is, a few min-
utes for absent and sorrowing friends. This last
blow, though not unexpected, has nevertheless
fallen heavily on me, and the more so that the
insidious malady which destroyed my poor dear
niece, developed so many endearing qualities in
her sweet and gentle nature, that her loss is the
more sincerely felt. Two months before this last
sad event, we lost her little girl, that sweet and
interesting child whose beauty and intelligence
(though, poor thing, she was deaf and dumb) you
used to admire. This has indeed been a melan-
choly year to me.

LADY BLESSINGTON 385

"Alfred's position, as you may well imagine,
would of itself fill me with chagrin, and the pro-
tracted illness of two beings so dear to me,
closed by their deaths, has added the last blow to
my troubles. May you, my dear Henry, be long
spared from similar trials, and be left health and
long life to enjoy your well -merited reputation, in
which no one more cordially rejoices than your
sincere, affectionate friend."

Her own afflictions did not, however, prevent
her from sympathising with others stricken like
herself, as may be seen by a letter written by her
at this time to John Forster, on the loss of his
younger brother, Christopher, to whom he was
much attached. "I thought of you often, last
evening and this day. I have felt all that you are
now undergoing thrice in my life, and know what
a painfully unsettled state of mind it produces,
what a dread of the present, what a doubt of the
future ; what a yearning after the departed, and
what an agonising conviction, that never was the
being, while in life, so fondly, so tenderly loved as
now, when the love is unavailing. Judge then,
after three such trials, how well I can sympathise
in yours. I feel toward you as some traveller,
returned from a perilous voyage, where he nar-
rowly escaped shipwreck, feels, when he sees a
dear friend exposed to similar danger, and would
fain make his sad experience useful to him.

"I am glad you have heard from our friend.

386 THE MOST GORGEOUS

To find a friend, when one most needs consolation,
is indeed something to be grateful for ; and I am
glad when anything brings back old and dear
associations. Perhaps if we could all see each
other's hearts, there would be no misgivings, for
coldness of manner often covers warmth of heart,
as, to use a very homely simile, wet slack covers
over the warm fire beneath. My nieces send you
their cordial regards. Count D'Orsay will be the
bearer of this. God bless and comfort you, prays
your cordial friend."

And later she assures Forster that if the warm-
est sympathy of his friends at Gore House could
alleviate his grief, he might be assured its bitter-
ness would be softened. " We feel so sincere a
regard for you, that the loss you have sustained
cannot be a matter of indifference to us, and
therefore we hope you will come to us en famille,
without the fear of meeting other guests, until
your spirits are more equal to encountering a
mixed society."

Forster himself fell ill and was unable to avail
himself of her kindness, whereon she writes to
him that, if he knew the anxiety they all felt for
his health, and the fervent prayers they offered
up for its speedy restoration, he would be con-
vinced that, though he had friends of longer date,
he had none more affectionately and sincerely
attached to him than those of Gore House. " I
claim the privilege of an old woman," she adds,

LADY BLESSINGTON 387

" to be allowed to see you as soon as a visitor in
a sick-room can be admitted. Sterne says that
< a friend has the same right as a physician,' and
I hope you will remember this. Count D'Orsay
every day regrets that he cannot go and nurse
you, and we both often wish you were here, that
we might try our power of alleviating your illness,
if not of curing you. God bless you and restore
you speedily to health."

In January, 1 844, Mrs. Charles Mathews wrote
a letter to Lady Blessington, which gives ad-
ditional testimony of her unceasing efforts to
benefit others. Mrs. Mathews was now in strait-
ened circumstances, owing to her husband's death
and the unsuccessful theatrical enterprises of her
son. Under these conditions, she was materially
helped by the countess, to whom she writes : " I
ought never to address you, my beloved and ex-
cellent friend, without repeating my grateful
thanks for the continuous favours received from
you ; but your goodness to me is * where every
day I turn a page to read.' Such generous and
spontaneous friendship as you have shown to me,
at the needful time, reconciles a world of ingrati-
tude from those I have served. How few debts
of magnitude are paid by the recipients. Let
them repair their injustice, by prompting others to
return such benefits, and thus all is made even.

" God bless you, my dearest Lady Blessington,
and reward you, as he will, for your generous

388 THE MOST GORGEOUS

and benevolent feelings, actively manifested to all
around you, and to your ever affectionate and
obliged friend."

It is instructive to learn that the woman who
so deplores the ingratitude of others could, after
Lady Blessington's death, write to a mutual friend
stating that, " I really thought well of my poor
friend, and believe I can afford to own my friend-
ship for her."

But whilst the countess was still amongst the
living, and probably whilst Mrs. Mathews was
influenced by the sense of favours yet to come,
she could end a letter of thanks for a fresh
obligation received, by the following paragraph :
" And now, my dear, respected, and truly beloved
friend (a friend in the most extended sense of
that too often misapplied word), accept once more
my most grateful acknowledgments for all your
generous and kindly acts, and pray believe that I
am, dearest lady, your faithfully affectionate, etc."
Lady Blessington, in the midst of her own heavy
anxieties, was not only helping Mrs. Mathews re-
garding the publication of her book, but was also
striving to obtain for her a sum from the commit-
tee of the Literary Fund, to which Mrs. Mathews
had small claim. Lady Blessington's exertions
were successful, and a grant of fifty pounds was
made to Mrs. Mathews on the i$th of March,
1844, and this is how she acknowledged her obli-
gations to the countess :

LADY BLESSINGTON 389

«« I think this is magnificent, and feel that — under
heaven — I owe this as well as other benefits to you, my
most feeling and excellent friend ; they have thus placed
me above a thousand fears and embarrassments. May
God bless and fulfil all your desires here, and reward your
goodness hereafter.

" I can now say but this much, in return for what I owe
to you, and how much that is. I am so agitated, and so
weak from my late sufferings, that I can hardly guide my
pen ; but I could not pause a moment in conveying to your
kind, benevolent heart this success of your advice for my
benefit. I am still in my room, and in more confusion and
discomfort than you can ever grasp at. Upon the instant
that I am able, and the present tenant has vacated the cot-
tage, I shall remove. Let what will occur to me, as to
sickness, after I am there, I now shall be quite unembar-
rassed, and my mind as to self easy, I trust, for life ; and
when you lay your head upon your pillow, do not forget
that I owe the means to your friendly counsel as well as
other aid, and believe that I never close my eyes without
offering up a prayer for you.

" I hardly know what I am writing, for I am all in a
bubble, and therefore pray, pray overlook the manner and
the matter of this letter. Heaven bless you, my dear, dear
Lady Blessington. Your attached, grateful friend,"

In March of this year, Charles Dickens writes
to tell her he has made up his mind to see the
world, and to decamp, bag and baggage, the fol-
lowing midsummer for a twelvemonth ; and pro-
poses to establish his family in some convenient
place, from where he could make personal ravages
on the neighbouring country. Somehow or other,
he had got it into his head that Nice would be a

390 THE MOST GORGEOUS

favourable spot for headquarters, and begs to have
the benefit of her advice.

" If you will tell me," he continues, " when you
have ten minutes to spare for such a client, I shall
be delighted to come to you and guide myself by
your opinion. I will not ask you to forgive me
for troubling you, because I am sure, beforehand,
that you will do so. I beg to be kindly remem-
bered to Count D'Orsay and to your nieces. I
was going to say, ' the Misses Power,' but it looks
so like the blueboard at a ladies' school that I
stopped short."

Lady Blessington felt pleasure in giving him
every possible hint and help regarding his pro-
posed journey, and whilst abroad he wrote her long
and delightful letters, which he subsequently bor-
rowed from her, when writing his " Pictures in
Italy." In one of these, addressed Milan, Novem-
ber, 1844, he says, "Appearances are against me.
Don't believe them. I have written you, in inten-
tion, fifty letters, and I can claim no credit for any
one of them (though they were the best letters
you ever read), for they all originated in my desire
to live in your memory and regard.

"Since I heard from Count D'Orsay, I have
been beset in I don't know how many ways.
First of all, I went to Marseilles, and came back
to Genoa. Then I moved to the Peschiere. Then
some people, who had been present at the Scien-
tific Congress here, made a sudden inroad on that

LADY BLESSINGTON 391

establishment and overran it. Then they went
away, and I shut myself up for a month, close and
tight, over my little Christmas book, 'The Chimes.'
All my affections and passions got turned and
knotted up in it, and I became as haggard as a
murderer long before I wrote 'The End/"

"When I had done that, like the man in 'The
Man of Thessaly,' who, having scratched his eyes
out in a quickset hedge, plunged into a bramble-
bush to scratch them in again, I fled to Venice to
recover the composure I had disturbed. From
thence I went to Verona and to Mantua. And
now I am here, — just come up from underground,
and earthy all over, from seeing that extraordinary
tomb, in which the dead saint lies in an alabaster
case, with sparkling jewels all about him to mock
his dusty eyes, not to mention the twenty-franc
pieces, which devout votaries were flinging down
upon a sort of skylight in the cathedral pavement
above, as if it were the counter of his heavenly
shop.

" You know Verona ? You know everything in
Italy I know. I am not learned in geography,
and it was a great blow to me to find that Romeo
was only banished five and twenty miles. It was
a greater blow to me to see the old house of the
Capulets, with some genealogical memorials still
carved in stone over the gateway of the courtyard.
It is a most miserable little inn, at this time ankle-
deep in dirt ; and noisy vetturini and muddy mar-

392 THE MOST GORGEOUS

ket-carts were disputing possession of the yard
with a brood of geese, all splashed and bespattered,
as if they had their yesterday's white trousers on."

The Roman amphitheatre in this town delighted
him beyond expression. He had never seen any-
thing so full of solemn ancient interest ; he looked
at the four and forty rows of seats, as fresh and
perfect as if their occupants had vacated them
but yesterday, the entrances, passages, dens,
rooms, corridors, the numbers over some of the
arches. An equestrian troop had been there some
days before he visited it, had scooped out a little
ring at one end of the arena, and had their per-
formance in that spot.

" I should like to have seen it, of all things,
for its very dreariness." He continues, " Fancy
a handful of people sprinkled over one corner of
the great place (the whole population of Verona
would not fill it now), and a spangled cavalier
bowing to the echoes and the grass-grown walls.
I climbed to the topmost seat and looked away
at the beautiful view for some minutes ; when I
turned around, and looked down into the theatre
again, it had exactly the appearance of an immense
straw hat, to which the helmet of the Castle of
Otranto was a baby ; the rows of seats represent-
ing the different plaits of straw, and the arena the
inside of the crown.

"I had great expectations of Venice, but they
fell immeasurably short of the wonderful reality.

LADY BLESSINGTON 393

The short time passed there went by me in a
dream. I hardly think it possible to exaggerate
its beauties, its sources of interest, its uncommon
novelty and freshness. A thousand and one real-
isations of the thousand and one nights could
hardly captivate and enchant me more than
Venice."

Whilst at Genoa he visited Albaro, and saw II
Paradiso, which was spoken of as hers. He wishes
he were rich and could buy the palace. Below
Byron's house, a third-rate wine-shop had estab-
lished itself, and the whole place looked dull,
miserable, and ruinous enough.

"Pray say to Count D'Orsay everything that
is cordial and loving from me," this long letter
ends. "The travelling-purse he gave me has
been of immense service. It has been constantly
opened. All Italy seems to yearn to put its hand
into it. I think of hanging it, when I come back
to England, on a nail as a trophy, and of gashing
the brim like the blade of an old sword, and say-
ing to my son and heir, as they do upon the stage,
' You see this notch, boy ? Five hundred francs
were laid low on that day for post-horses. Where
this gap is, a waiter charged your father treble the
correct amount, — and got it. This end, worn into
teeth, like the rasped edge of an old file, is sacred
to the custom houses, boy, the passports, and the
shabby soldiers at town gates, who put an open
hand and a dirty coat cuff into the coach windows

394 THE MOST GORGEOUS

of all forestieri. Take it, boy, thy father has
nothing else to give.1 "

It is a coincident that, on the date which this
letter bears, another was written to Lady Blessing-
ton, by an author whose fame at this time seemed
more firmly established than that of Charles
Dickens. This was from Bulwer, whom Dickens
thought, on first meeting, " a little weird occasion-
ally, regarding magic and spirits." The tones
which pervade these communications are wide
apart ; the one being buoyant and healthy, the
other weary and melancholy. " Literature," writes
the novelist, who had but recently produced " Za-
noni," "literature with me seems dead and buried.
I read very little, and write nought. I find stupid-
ity very healthy. ... To write as we do miracles
with logic is a mistake. As I grow older and, I
hope, wiser, I feel how little reason helps us
through the enigmas of this world. God gave us
imagination and faith, as the two sole instincts of
the future. He who reasons where he should
imagine and believe, prefers a rushlight to the
stars/'

Meanwhile Count D'Orsay, having been unable
to obtain employment in the diplomatic service,
found time lie heavy on his hands, until, again
acting on the wise advice of his friend, he resolved
to turn his talents to profitable account and make
a profession of the arts he had previously practised
as an amateur. Once started, he worked with en-

LADY BLESSINGTON 395

thusiasm. A studio was fitted up in the basement
of Gore House, and here, day after day, he modelled
and painted, and sketched the friends who faith-
fully gathered around him. In a few years Mitchell,
the publisher, issued about a hundred and fifty por-
traits the count had drawn of his friends, which
were considered free in delineation and excellent
as likenesses.

As a sculptor his work was unconventional in
treatment, full of force, and delicately finished,
and many wondered he had not previously wholly
devoted himself to art. Amongst those who sat
to him for statuettes were Napoleon, Wellington,
and Lord Lyndhurst, and so pleased was the Iron
Duke with his likeness that he gave orders to have
copies of his statuette executed in silver, and de-
clared he would sit to D'Orsay for his portrait.
The painting of this was anxious and troublesome
work ; for though the duke was willing to give as
many sittings as were necessary, he was extremely
critical with the result, and insisted on having
changes made until it pleased himself. When,
however, it was quite finished, he shook hands
warmly with the artist, saying, "At last I have
been painted like a gentleman. I'll never sit to
any one else." And in writing to Lady Blessing-
ton he declares, " Count D'Orsay will really spoil
me, and make me vain in my old age, by sending
me down to posterity by the exercise of every
description of talent with which he is endowed."

396 THE MOST GORGEOUS

One of the portraits which best satisfied D'Or-
say's critical taste was that which he painted of
Byron. As may be remembered, he had sketched
the poet whilst at Genoa, but neither this nor any
other likeness of Byron pleased him, until this
later and more careful work of his own hand was
produced. It was universally pronounced excel-
lent, and was in due time engraved, when Lady
Blessington sent a copy to the Countess Guiccioli,
with a letter, in which she says : " You have, I
daresay, heard that your friend, Count D'Orsay,
has taken to painting, and such has been the
rapidity of his progress that he has left many
competitors, who have been for fifteen years
painters, far behind.

" Dissatisfied with all the portraits that have
been painted of Lord Byron, none of which ren-
dered justice to the intellectual beauty of his
noble head, Count D'Orsay at my request has
made a portrait of our great poet, and it has been
pronounced by Sir John Cam Hobhouse, and all
who remember Lord Byron, to be the best like-
ness of him ever painted. The picture possesses
all the noble intelligence and fine character of the
poet's face, and will, I am sure, delight you when
you see it. We have had it engraved, and when
the plate is finished, a print will be sent to you.
It will be interesting, chhe et aimable amiey to
have a portrait of our great poet from a painting
by one who so truly esteems you ; for you have

LADY BLESSINGTON 397

not a truer friend than Count D'Orsay, unless it
be me. How I wish you were here to see the
picture. It is an age since we met, and I assure
you we all feel this long separation as a great pri-
vation. I shall be greatly disappointed if you are
not as delighted with the engraving as I am, for it
seems to me the very image of Byron."

Toward the end of this year, 1844, Lady Bless-
ington, ever mindful of her friends, wrote to wish
Landor a happy Christmas, and sent him a seal
waistcoat as a token of remembrance. In re-
sponse, he says, "Before I open any other letter,
I must thank you for the graceful lines you have
written to me. They will keep my heart warmer,
and adorn me more than the waistcoat. Nothing
can be dearer to me than your recollection, accom-
panied by such invariable kindness. Every friend
I have in the world knows how highly I esteem
your noble qualities, and I never lose an oppor-
tunity of expatiating on them.

" You have left me nothing to wish but a fa-
vourable account of your health, and a few words
about my other friends at Gore House. To-mor-
row I am promised your new novel. With your
knowledge of the world, and, what is rarer, of the
human heart, the man is glorified who enjoys your
approbation ; what then if he enjoys your friend-
ship ? Often and often in this foggy weather have
I trembled lest you should have a return of the
bronchitis. But I am credibly informed that the

398 THE MOST GORGEOUS

sun has visited London twice in the month of
December. Let us hope that such a phenomenon
may portend no mischief to the nation."

Another friend of this man, and ardent admirer
of his genius, was likewise thinking of him at this
season of the year. This was Charles Dickens,
who, before leaving England, had asked Landor
what he most wished to have in remembrance of
Italy ; when the latter, in a sad voice, said, " An
ivy-leaf from Fiesole." When he visited Florence,
Dickens drove out to Fiesole for his sake, and
asked the driver where was the villa in which the
Landor family lived. "He was a dull dog, and
pointed to Boccaccio's," wrote Dickens. "I didn't
believe him. He was so deuced ready that I knew
he lied. I went up to the convent, which is on a
height, and was leaning over a dwarf wall basking
in a noble view over a vast range of hill and
valley, when a little peasant girl came up and
began to point out the localities. Ecco la Villa
Landora was one of the first half-dozen sentences
she spoke. My heart swelled as Landor's would
have done, when I looked down upon it, nestling
among its olive-trees and vines, and with its upper
windows (there are five above the door) open to
the setting sun. Over the centre of these there
is another story, set upon the housetop like a
tower ; and all Italy, except its sea, is melted down
into the glowing landscape it commands. I
plucked a leaf of ivy from the convent garden as

LADY BLESSINGTON 399

I looked ; and here it is. For Landor, with my
love."

Twenty years later, when Landor was no more,
this ivy-leaf was found treasured amongst his
belongings.

CHAPTER XVII.

Letters from Mrs. Sigourney — Mrs. S. C. Hall's Opinion of
Lady Blessington — Charles Dickens Homeward Bound —
Letter of D'Orsay to Dickens — A Double Grief — Lady
Blessington as a Woman Journalist — The Daily News and
Its Contributors — N. P. Willis again upon the Scene —
Bitter Feelings Aroused — Letter from Bulwer — Captain
Marryat Will Fight — Willis Says Farewell — Prince Louis
Returns — The Prince and Landor.

SADY BLESSINGTON was stm work-

ing steadily. "The Idler in France,'*
which was an account of her stay in the
French capital, was published in 184^, and in
the following year she brought out a novel, " The
Lottery of Life." In 1843 came "Meredith,"
regarding which she received a letter from Mrs.
Sigourney, an American poetess, who enjoyed
great popularity in her own country, and who,
whilst in England a short time before, had been
introduced to Lady Blessington. " Are you
aware," writes Mrs. Sigourney, "how much your
novel, 'Meredith/ is admired in these United
States? I see it ranked in some of our leading
periodicals as 'the best work of the noble and
talented authoress.' This they mean as high
400

LADY BLESSINGTON 401

praise, since your other productions have been
widely and warmly commended. We are, as you
doubtless know, emphatically a reading people.

" Our magazines, and many of the works that
they announce, go into the humble dwelling of
the manufacturer, into the brown hand of the
farmer, into the log hut of the emigrant, who sees
around him the dark forms of the remnant of our
aboriginal tribes, and hears the murmurs of the
turbid Missouri, perhaps the breaking billows of
the Pacific.

" I have recently become interested for the pres-
ent year in one of those periodicals published for
ladies in New York, which announces two thou-
sand subscribers, and assumes to have ten times
that number of readers. Might I presume to ask
of you so great a favour as to send in your next
letter to me any scrap of poetry for it which you
may happen to have by you. I am sure it would
greatly delight the publisher thus to be permitted
to place your name upon its pages ; but if I have
requested anything inconvenient or improper please
to forgive it.

" I write this with one of the pens from the
tasteful little writing-box you were so good as to
send me, and repeat my thanks for that gift so ac-
ceptable in itself, and so valued as from your hand."

A few months later, the same writer sends her
thanks to Lady Blessington "for the elegant copy
of Heath's 'Book of Beauty/ which derives its

402 THE MOST GORGEOUS

principal interest, in my view, from your super-
vision.

" I felt quite humble at the tameness and unap-
propriateness of my own little poem, and the more
so from the circumstance that the omission of one
of the lines, at the close of the fifth stanza, de-
prives it bo^h of rhythm and meaning. . . .

" I was sorry to see in the public papers that
our friend, Mr. N. P. Willis, had suffered from ill
health. I trust, from the narvete" of his public
letters, that he is quite well again. We consider
him as one of our most gifted writers, and of
course follow all his movements with interest.
It gave me pleasure to be informed by you of the
successful enterprise of Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall.
They are excellent people, and I rejoice in their
prosperity. Mrs. Hall showed me much friend-
ship when I was in your country, which I shall
never forget.

" Among my obligations to her, I remember my
delightful call at Gore House, and the first sight
of yourself, and your beautiful nieces, a combina-
tion of imagery which has lost none of its freshness
or fascination by the lapse of time."

Mrs. S. C. Hall was a constant contributor to
Lady Blessington's annuals, and a frequent after-
noon caller at Gore House, of whose mistress she
would hear no ill word spoken ; a rare virtue in
one of her sex. "I had no means of knowing,"
Mrs. Hall once wrote, "whether what the world

LADY BLESSINGTON 403

said of this most beautiful woman was true or
false, but I am sure God intended her to be good,
and there was a deep-seated good intent in what-
ever she did that came under my observation.
She never lost an opportunity of doing a gracious
act, or saying a gracious word.

"She found time, despite her literary labours,
her anxieties, and the claims which she permitted
society to make upon her time, not only to do a
kindness now and then, for those in whom she felt
an interest, but to give what seemed perpetual
thought to their well doing.

" Her sympathies were quick and cordial, and
independent of worldliness ; her taste in art and
literature womanly and refined. I say 'womanly/
because she had a perfectly feminine appreciation
of whatever was delicate and beautiful. There
was great satisfaction in writing for her whatever
she required ; labours became pleasures, from the
importance she attached to every little attention
paid to requests, which, as an editor, she had a
right to command.

"Her manners were singularly simple and grace-
ful ; it was to me an intense delight to look upon
beauty, which, though I never saw in its full bloom,
was charming in its autumn time, and the Irish
accent, and soft, sweet Irish laugh, used to make
my heart beat with the pleasures of memory. I
always left her with a sense of enjoyment, and
a perfect disbelief in everything I ever heard to

404 THE MOST GORGEOUS

her discredit. Her conversation was not witty
nor wise, but it was in good tune, and good taste,
mingled with a good deal of humour, which escaped
everything bordering on vulgarity, by a miracle.

" A tale of distress, or a touching anecdote,
would at once suffuse her clear, intelligent eyes
with tears, and her beautiful mouth break into
smiles and dimples at even the echo of wit or
jest. The influence she exercised over her circle
was unbounded, and it became a pleasure of the
most exquisite kind to give her pleasure.

" I think it ought to be remembered to her
honour, that, with all her foreign associations and
habits, she never wrote a line that might not be
placed on the bookshelves of any English lady."

The impressions which she gave another gentle-
woman were not less favourable. "I can only
say," writes Mrs. Newton Crosland, " that in all
my intercourse with Lady Blessington, I cannot
recall a word from her lips which conveyed an
idea of laxity. of morals, while very often her advice
was excellent. She was always in a high degree
generously sympathetic with the struggling and
unfortunate, not in words only, but in actions, for
she would take a great deal of trouble to do a
small service, and was a kind friend to many who
were shy of acknowledging their obligation."

Amongst the most interesting letters which she
received in the spring of 1845 *s one from Charles
Dickens, who, returning homeward, writes from

LADY BLESSINGTON 405

Genoa that he is once more in his old quarters, and
with rather a tired sole to his foot, from having
found such an immense number of different rest-
ing-places for it since he went away. " I write
you my last Italian letter for this boat," he says,
in May, 1845, "designing to leave here, please
God, on the Qth of next month, and to be in
London again by the end of June. I am looking
forward with great delight to the pleasure of seeing
you once more ; and mean to come to Gore House
with such a swoop as shall astonish the poodle, if,
after being accustomed to his own size and sense,
he retain the power of being astonished at any-
thing in the wide world."

Speaking over the sights he has seen, he de-
clares it next to impossible to exaggerate the
interest of Rome ; though he thought it possible
to find the main source of interest in the wrong
things. Naples disappointed him ; the weather
was bad during his stay there; but the country
around charmed him.

" As to Vesuvius," he writes, " it burns away in
my thoughts beside the roaring waters of Niagara,
and not a splash of the water extinguishes a spark
of the fire ; but there they go on, tumbling and
flaming night and day, each in its fullest glory.

"I have seen so many wonders, and each of
them has such a voice of its own, that I sit all
day long listening to the roar they make, as if it
were in a sea-shell ; and have fallen into an idle-

406 THE MOST GORGEOUS

ness so complete that I can't rouse myself suffi-
ciently to go into Pisa on the twenty-fifth, when the
triennial illumination of the cathedral and leaning
tower, and bridges and what not, takes place.
But I have already been there and it cannot
beat St. Peter's, I suppose. So I don't think I
shall pluck myself up by the roots, and go aboard
a steamer for Leghorn."

He thanks her in this letter for copies of the
" Keepsake " and the " Book of Beauty," and tells
her he has been very much struck by two contri-
butions in them, one of them being Landor's
" Conversations," " among the most charming, pro-
found, and delicate productions I have ever read.
The other, your lines on Byron's room in Venice.
I am sure that you wrote it from your heart
as I am that they found their way immediately to
mine."

As he anticipated, he was back in town on the
last days of June, and on the sixth of the follow-
ing month D'Orsay wrote him the following note,
inviting him to lunch, and referring to Roche, the
courier, who had proved so valuable to Dickens in
his travels : " Mon cher Dickens : — Nous sommes
enchanted de votre retour. Voici, thank God,
Devonshire Place ressucite*. Venez luncheoner
demain a i heure, et amenez notre brave ami
Forster. J'attends la perle fine des courriers.
Vous 1' immortal isez par ce certificat — la difficult^
sera de trouver un mattre digne de lui. J'es-

LADY BLESSINGTON 407

sayerai de tout mon coeur. La Reine devroit le
prendre pour aller en Saxe Gotha, car je suis con-
vaincu qu'il est assez intelligent pour pouvoir de*-
couvrir ce Royaume. Gore House vous envoye
un cargo d'amities des plus sinceres. Donnez de
ma part 100,000 kind regards a Madame Dickens.
Toujours votre affectionne* D'Orsay. J'ai vu le
courrier, c'est le tableau de l'honn£tete, et de la
bonne humeur. Don't forget to be here at one
to-morrow."

This year was destined to be fraught with sad-
ness for Lady Blessington. So far back as 1835
her brother-in-law, John Manners Sutton, had lost
the office of Speaker to the House of Commons,
when he retired on a pension of four thousand a
year, and was raised to the peerage as Viscount
Canterbury. This pension was small in compari-
son to the income and emoluments attached to the
Speakership ; he had never saved, and he had suf-
fered a heavy loss of his household property, by
a fire at Palace Yard, compensation being refused
him. As a consequence, he was beset by debts
and difficulties, to meet which his wife made every
possible effort at economy, giving up her carriage,
ceasing to entertain, and eventually selling some
of her jewels. Her life was henceforth devoted
to her husband, whose health had begun to fail.

The end came to him more quickly than was
expected, for in July, 1845, whilst travelling on the
Great Western Railway, he was seized with apo-

408 THE MOST GORGEOUS

plexy, and remained insensible till his death, which
occurred three days later. This sudden affliction
prostrated his wife, who seemingly had no desire
to survive him, and before four months had elapsed
she had likewise passed out of life.

This double grief was bitterly felt by one in
whom family affection was so strongly developed
as Lady Blessington. The shadows were gath-
ering thicker and darker around one whose me-
ridian had been filled by unexpected brilliancy.
Writing to thank Landor for the sympathy he had
at once written to express in her affliction, she
says : " I have made more than one vain attempt
to thank you for your letter, but I could not
accomplish the task. You will easily imagine
my grief at losing the playmate of my child-
hood, the companion of my youth. Alas, alas ! of
the two heads that once rested on the same pillow,
one now is laid in the dark and dreary vault at
Clifton, far, far away from all she loved, from all
that loved her.

"It seems strange to me that I should still
breathe and think, when she, who was my other
self, so near in blood, so dear in affection, should
be no more. I have now no one to remind me
of my youth, to speak to me of the careless, happy
days of childhood. All seems lost with her in
whose breast I found an echo to my thoughts.
The ties of blood may sometimes be severed, but
how easily, how quickly are they reunited again,

LADY BLESSINGTON 409

when the affection of youthful days is recalled.
All that affection has, as it were, sprung up afresh
in my heart since my poor sister has known afflic-
tion. And now she is snatched from me, when I
hoped to soothe her."

As on former occasions she had sought refuge
from painful thoughts in her work, so did she again
employ herself in writing ; but not in the manner
suggested to her by N. P. Willis, who, with a
keen eye to copy, for which no subject was too
sacred, wrote to her : " I hope dear Lady Blessing-
ton, that the new, though sad leaf of life, that
death has turned over for you, will not be left
wholly uncopied for the world. You would make
so sweet a book, if you did but embody the new
spirit in which you now think and feel. Pardon
my mention of it, but I thought, while you were
talking to me the other day, as if you could scarce
be conscious how, with the susceptibilities and
fresh view of genius, you were looking upon the
mournful web weaving around you." Her ever-
active pen was now engaged in journalism, she
being one of the first women employed in journal-
ism in this country. The manner in which she
became connected with the newspaper press is
briefly told.

In the first month of the year 1846, the Daily
News was started in opposition to the Morning
Chronicle y with Charles Dickens for its editor,
Bradbury and Evans for its principal proprietors,

410 THE MOST GORGEOUS

and a brilliant staff for its contributors, amongst
whom were John Forster, who conducted the
literary department ; Charles Mackay, who wrote
for its columns a series of stirring poems called
" Voices from the Crowd ; " Harriet Martineau,
who wrote leaders ; George Hogarth, the editor's
father-in-law, who was responsible for art criti-
cisms ; the elder Dickens, Blanchard Jerrold, and
Joseph Archer Crowe, who acted as parliamentary
reporters.

The capital raised or promised for this new ven-
ture amounted to one hundred thousand pounds ;
the editor's salary was fixed at two thousand a
year, then thought extremely liberal, the payment
of the staff being on a corresponding scale. The
price of the paper was fivepence.

When the staff of the Daily News was being
organised, Lady Blessington was asked if she
would supply the paper with " any sort of intel-
ligence she might like to communicate of the
sayings, doings, memoirs, or movements in the
fashionable world."

To this she readily agreed, asking eight hun-
dred a year as payment for her services. The
sum was considered extravagant by the managers,
who, however, offered her four hundred for a year
certain, or two hundred and fifty for six months,
when the arrangement, if satisfactory, could be
renewed. She accepted the latter sum, and for
the period stated sent in whatever "exclusive

LADY BLESSINGTON 4"

intelligence " she could gather from her friends.
Dickens, after three weeks, threw up his editor-
ship, being " tired to death, and quite worn out "
with the work, when the post was somewhat re-
luctantly taken by John Forster until some one
could be found to relieve him from a toil and
responsibility for which he had no liking. At the
close of her six months' agreement, the new editor
declined to renew the engagement of Lady Bless-
ington, who therefore lost this source of easily
earned income.

Amongst her correspondence in the early part
of this year, is an interesting note from Dickens,
dated March the 2d. After stating that he is
vexed at being unable to accept an invitation to
dinner she had sent him, he acknowledges to a
fear that he has no strength of mind, for he is
always making engagements in which there is no
prospect of satisfaction. And then he tells her
that "vague thoughts of a new book are rife
within me just now ; and I go wandering about
at night into the strangest places, according to my
usual propensity at such a time, seeking rest and
finding none. As an addition to my composure I
ran over a little dog in the Regent's Park yesterday
(killing him on the spot), and gave his little mis-
tress, a girl of thirteen of fourteen, such exquisite
distress as I never saw the like of."

A correspondence had taken place before this
period between her and N. P. Willis, " the social,

412 THE MOST GORGEOUS

sentimental, and convivial " American journalist,
who had so freely described herself and her
friends on his first acquaintance with them.
Mr. Willis had, meanwhile, travelled in Southern
Europe, Turkey, and parts of Asia Minor, had
married an English wife, had more than once
crossed the Atlantic, and had published an Eng-
lish edition of " Pencillings by the Way," in whose
pages all his original sins of personality were to
be found. Besides the uncomplimentary remarks
he had made on Bulwer and Fonblanque, the
book also contained an impertinent description
of Dickens, to whom he referred as "a young
paragraphist of the Morning Chronicle ; " an abus-
ive reference to Captain Marryat, whose books, it
was declared, had little circulation save at Wap-
ping ; and ill-natured remarks on the personal
appearance of John Forster. Moreover, some
words Moore had spoken of O'Connell were
given, that bred ill-feeling between them that
lasted the remainder of their lives.

A storm of bitter feeling had, therefore, arisen
against Willis, whom Lady Blessington could no
longer invite to meet her guests ; but with the
kindly feelings that always distinguished her, she
was willing to receive him in their absence. This
resolution she made known to him in answer to a
letter received from him written in Ireland, on
which country he was about to write a book.
Replying to her communication, Willis says :

LADY BLESSINGTON 413

" Your very kind note was forwarded to me here, and I
need scarce say it gave me great pleasure. One of the
strongest feelings of my life was the friendship you suffered
me to cherish for you, when I first came to England ; and
while I have no more treasured leaf in my memory than
the brilliant and happy hours I passed in Seamore Place, I
have, I assure you, no deeper regret than that my indiscre-
tion in ' Pencillings by the Way,' should have checked
the freedom of my approach to you. Still, my attachment
and admiration (so unhappily recorded) are always on the
alert for some trace that I am still remembered by you,
and so you will easily fancy that the kind friendliness of
your note gave me unusual happiness. My first pleasure
when I return to town will be to avail myself of your kind
invitation and call at Gore House."

As soon as his arrival in London was known,
he received various unpleasant intimations of his
offences from those who figured in his pages. In
a note addressed to Lady Blessington he says :
" Fonblanque has written me a note, which, with-
out giving me ground for a quarrel, is very un-
gentlemanlike, I think. Bulwer has written me
too, and a more temperate, just (though severe),
and gentlemanly letter I never read. He gives
me no quarter, but I like him the better for
having written it, and he makes me tenfold more
ashamed of those silly and ill-starred letters. I
enclose his letter to you, which I beg may not
be seen by another eye than your own."

The letter which N. P. Willis enclosed ran as
follows :

414 THE MOST GORGEOUS

" SIR : — I delayed replying to your letter until I had
read the paper in question, which, agreeably to your re-
quest, Lady Blessington permitted me to see. With
respect to myself individually, I require no apology; I
have been too long inured to publicity to feel annoyed at
personal reflections, which, if discourteous, are at least
unimportant ; and as a public man I should consider myself
a very fair subject for public exhibition, however unfavour-
ably minute, except indeed from such persons as I have
received as a guest.

" But in exonerating you freely, so far as any wound
to my feelings is concerned, I think it but fair to add,
since you have pointedly invited my frankness, that I look
with great reprehension upon the principle of feeding a
frivolous and unworthy passion of the public from sources
which the privilege of hospitality opens to us in private
life. Such invasions of the inviolable decorums of society
impair the confidence which is not more its charm than
its foundation, and cannot but render the English (already
too exclusive) yet more rigidly on their guard against ac-
quaintances who repay the courtesies of one country by
caricatures in another. Your countrymen (and I believe
yourself amongst the number) are not unreasonably sensi-
tive as to any strictures on the private society of Americans.
But I have certainly never read any work, any newspaper
paragraph, of which America is the subject, containing
personalities so gratuitously detailed as those in which
you have indulged.

" I allude in particular to the unwarrantable remarks
upon Mr. Fonblanque, a gentleman who, with so rare
a modesty, has ever shrunk even from the public notice
of the respectful admiration which in this country is the
coldest sentiment he commands ; and I rejoice to add, for
the honour of England, that despite the envy of his fame
and the courage of his politics, no Englishman has yet

LADY BLESSINGTON 415

been found to caricature the man whom it is impossible
to answer. Your description is not indeed recognisable
by those who know Mr. Fonblanque, but it is not to be
considered so much on account of its inaccuracy, as by
the insensibility it appears to evince to the respect due
to eminent men and to social regulation.

"You have courted my opinion and I have given it
explicitly and plainly. I think you have done great dis-
service to your countrymen in this visit to England, and
that in future we shall shrink from many claimants on our
hospitality, lest they should become the infringers of its
rights."

But the worst was still to come, for Captain
Marryat published in the pages of ft\z Metro-
politan Review an article that not only dealt with
" Pencillings by the Way," but exposed its author
to ridicule and contempt. This personal attack
was not to be patiently borne by one who had
treated others in a similar way. A defence was
printed by Willis and circulated amongst his
friends ; letters were written to the Times airing
this quarrel ; and eventually a challenge to mortal
combat was given and accepted, and only at the last
moment was prevented by peace-loving seconds.
Mr. Willis soon after bade adieu to England,
never more to return. In his farewell letter to
Lady Blessington, dated 1845, ne says: "After
some argument, with a reluctant heart, I have
persuaded myself that it is better to say adieu
to you on paper ; partly from a fear that I might
not find you alone should I call to-morrow (my

416 THE MOST GORGEOUS

last day in England), and partly because my
visit to you the other day forms a sweet memory,
which I would not willingly risk overlaying with
one less sympathetic.

" As a man is economical with his last six-
pence, I am a miser of what is probably my last
remembrance of you, believing as I do that I
shall never again cross the Atlantic. I unwillingly
forego, however, my expression of thanks and
happiness for your delightful reception of my
daughter's visit ; and you were too tenderly human
not to value what I could tell you of your impres-
sion on my mulatto servant. She saw you to love
you, as any human being would who saw you as
she did, without knowing the value of rank. Little
Imogen talked a great deal of her visit when she re-
turned, and your kind gift to her will be treasured.

" I leave here on Sunday morning for Ports-
mouth to embark, with the most grateful feeling
for the kindness with which you have renewed
your friendship toward me."

The author of " Pelham " had in 1843 inherited
his mother's property and assumed her family
name of Lytton. In this year — 1846 — his
health broke down again, and he set out for
Italy. He tells Lady Blessington that he had
made a hurried journey to Genoa and suffered
more than he had anticipated from fatigue. There
he rested and sought to recruit ; the weather was
cold and stormy.

LADY BLESSINGTON 417

"With much misgiving," he wrote, "I com-
mitted myself to the abhorred powers of steam
at Genoa, and ultimately refound about two-thirds
of my dilapidated self at Naples. There indeed
the air was soft, the sky blue ; and the luxurious
sea slept calmly as ever round those enchanting
shores, and in the arms of the wondrous bay.
But the old charms of novelty are gone. The
climate, though enjoyable, I found most trying,
changing every two hours, and utterly unsafe for
the early walks of a water patient, or the moon-
light rambles of a romantic traveller ; the society
ruined by the English and a bad set.

"The utter absence of intellectual occupation
gave me the spleen, so I fled from the balls and
the treacherous smiles of the climate, and travelled
by slow stages to Rome, with some longings to
stay at Mola, which were counteracted by the
desire to read the newspapers, and learn Peel's
programme for destroying his friends, the farmers.
The only interesting person, by the way, I met
at Naples, was the Count of Syracuse, the king's
brother ; for he is born with the curse of ability
(though few discover, and fewer still acknowledge,
it), and has been unfortunate enough to cultivate
his mind, in a country and in a rank where mind has
no career. Thus he is in reality afflicted with the
ennui which fools never know, and clever men only
dispel by active exertions. And it was melancholy
to see one with the accomplishments of a scholar,

4i 8 THE MOST GORGEOUS

and the views of a statesman, fluttering away his
life amongst idle pursuits, and seeking to amuse
himself by billiards and lansquenet. He has
more charming manners than I ever met in a
royal person, except Charles the Tenth, with a
dignity that only evinces itself by sweetness. He
reminded me of Schiller's Prince in the ' Ghost
Seer.'

"And so I am at Rome. As Naples now a
second time disappointed me, so Rome, which
saddened me before, revisited, grows on me daily.
I only wish it were not the carnival, which does
not harmonise with the true charm of the place,
its atmosphere of art and repose. I pass my time
quietly enough, with long walks in the morning,
and the siesta in the afternoon. In the evening I
smoke my cigar in the Forum, or on the Pincian
Hill, guessing where Nero lies buried, — Nero,
who, in spite of his crimes (probably exaggerated),
has left so gigantic a memory in Rome, a memory
that meets you everywhere, almost the only em-
peror the people recall. He must have had force
and genius, as well as brilliancy and magnificence,
for the survival. And he died so young."

Sir Edward Bulwer-Lytton was back in England
in the summer, and in the following winter came
his poem, "The New Timon." Writing from
Knebworth, December 24, 1846, to Lady .Bless-
ington, he says : " I am extremely grateful, my
dearest friend, for your kind letter, so evidently

LADY BLESSINGTON 419

meant to encourage me, amidst the storm which
howls around my little boat. And, indeed, it is
quite a patch of blue sky, serene and cheering
through the very angry atmosphere which greets
me elsewhere. I view it as an omen, and sure I
am, at least, that the blue sky will endure long
after the last blast has howled itself away.

" Perhaps in some respects it is fortunate that I
have had so little favour shown to me, or rather so
much hostility, in my career. If I had once been
greeted by the general kindness and indulgent

smiles that have for instance rewarded , I

should have been fearful of a contrast in the
future, and satisfied at so much sunshine, gathered
in my harvests, and broken up my plough. But
all this vituperation goads me on. Who can keep
quiet when the tarantula bites him ?

" I write this from a prison, for we are snowed
up all around ; and, to my mind, the country is
dull enough in the winter without this addition to
its sombre repose. But I shall stay as long as I
can, for this is the time when the poor want us
most."

One day in May, 1 846, Lady Blessington, whilst
working in her library, was surprised to hear an-
nounced the name of a man on whom sentence of
imprisonment for life had been passed ; and rising
up, saw Prince Louis Napoleon, looking haggard
and pallid, a growth of stubble on his lip. After
six years of confinement, he had escaped from the

420 THE MOST GORGEOUS

fortress of Ham in the disguise of a workman,
carrying a plank upon his shoulder. He had at
once returned to England, and, reaching London,
sought Gore House. Here, Lady Blessington
invited him to take up his residence, and, knowing
that he was penniless, offered him every assistance
she could give. John Forster had been invited to
dine quietly that evening with Lady Blessington,
her nieces, and Count D'Orsay, and on arriving was
much surprised to find Prince Louis an addition to
the party, of which he wrote an account to Landor
next day. " After dinner the prince described his
way of escape by passing through the fortress
gates in a labourer's blouse and sabots, with a
heavy plank on his shoulder, flinging off the plank
into the ditch by the wall of the chateau, and after-
ward, shod as he was, running nearly two miles to
where a little cart, provided by Conneau, waited
to take him within reach of the coast, from which
he had crossed but the day before, — all of it
told in his usual un-French way, without warmth
or excitement. Before or since, I have never seen
his face as it was then ; for he had shaved his
moustaches as part of his disguise, and his lower,
and least pleasing, features were completely ex-
posed under the straggling stubble of hair begin-
ning again to show itself."

In August, Lady Blessington, who had been
ordered change of air, went to Bath, selecting that
ancient city principally because her faithful friend

LADY BLESSINGTON 421

Landor was there. It so happened that Prince
Louis was visiting Bath at the same time, when
Landor left his card on Napoleon, who, in return,
visited Landor. Thereon, a pleasant and friendly
conversation followed. Amongst other things, the
prince said he was engaged upon a military work,
a copy of which, when completed, he would have
the pleasure of sending to Landor ; for which in-
tention the author of the " Conversations " heartily
thanked him, but honestly said he could not request
the prince to accept a copy of his works, as they
contained some severe strictures on his uncle, the
emperor.

To this Napoleon replied he knew perfectly
well what his opinions were, and admired the
frankness with which they were expressed on all
occasions. Then Landor congratulated him on
having escaped two great curses, — a prison and a
throne ; on which the prince smiled gravely, but
made no remark. He kept his promise of sending
to Landor a copy of his book, "Etudes sur le
Passe et 1'Avenir de rArtillerie," the fly-leaf of
which bore the following inscription : " A Monsieur
W. S. Landor ; te"moignage d'estime de la part du
P06 Napoleon Louis B., qui appre"cie le vrai merite,
quelque oppos£ qu'il soit a ses sentimens et a son
opinion. Bath, Sept. 6, 1846."

CHAPTER XVIII.

The Glory of Gore House Is Departing — Debts and Difficulties

— A Waning Popularity — Letter from Dickens — Prince
Louis Becomes President — Enter a Bailiff — Flight to France

— Beginning a New Life — Letter from Disraeli — Illness and
Death — D'Orsay's Grief — The President's Ingratitude —
Last Days of D'Orsay — Peace and Farewell.

HE glory of Gore House began to pale
in the year 1847 J f°r now came vexa-
tions and troubles treading close upon
each other. Owing to famine and distress in Ire-
land, the payment of Lady Blessington's jointure
had for the last two years been uncertain ; but it
now entirely ceased. This was the more unfor-
tunate because she had been obliged to give bills
and bonds to her bankers and creditors, in antici-
pation of her dower, for various sums amounting
to about fifteen hundred pounds. If her income
continued to be unpaid, the ruin which she so
bravely sought to avert must overtake her at once.
In her distress she sought advice from a legal
friend, who assured her that nothing was so indis-
putable in law as that a widow's jointure took
precedence of every other claim on an estate ;
and that the very first money the agent or stew-
422

LADY BLESSINGTON 423

arcl receives from the property should go to the
discharge of such a claim. But this was poor
consolation when it was remembered that no rents
were paid, and that the Irish people were, chiefly
owing to the failure of the potato crop, striving to
satisfy hunger by eating nettles and weeds, and
were dying of famine by thousands.

Perhaps some comfort came to her in reading
the concluding paragraph of the letter, in which
her legal friend says : " I know well how — to
those accustomed to punctual payments and with
a horror of debt — pecuniary embarrassments prey
upon the mind. But I think they may be borne,
not only with ease, but with some degree of com-
placency, when connected with such generous
devotions and affectionate services as those which
must console you amidst all your cares. In
emptying your purse you have at least filled your
heart with consolations, which will long outlast
what I trust will be but the troubles of a season."

In her dilemma Lady Blessington knew not
which way to turn for relief. She who had freely
given and lent, declined to receive or borrow from
others. The greater number of her jewels were
already pledged ; she now thought of selling them,
and was advised to consult Anthony Rothschild
on the subject ; but their sale was deferred for
the present.

The income derived from her pen had rapidly
decreased. Forced to write continually, the strain

424 THE MOST GORGEOUS

had become apparent in her work, and her popu-
larity waned. William Jerdan, who, as an old
friend and literary adviser, was likely to have a
correct knowledge of her earnings, says that as an
author and editor she gained between two and
three thousand pounds per annum for some years.
" Her title, as well as her talents," he tells us,
" had considerable influence in ' ruling high prices,'
as they say in Mark Lane and other markets. To
this, also, her well-arranged parties with a publisher
now and then to meet folks of a style unusual to
men in business contributed their attractions ; and
the same society was in reality of solid value
toward the production of such publications as the
annuals, the contents of which were provided by
the editor almost entirely from the pens of private
friends."

So far back as June, 1843, Mr. Longman, the
publisher, writing from Paternoster Row, tells her
that merely five pounds have been offered for the
early sheets of her forthcoming novel, " Meredith,"
by Messrs. Lee & Blanchard, of Philadelphia. A
month later he takes the liberty of introducing
to her Mr. Bernard Tauchnitz, of Leipzig, "the
nephew of a well-known and respectable publisher
in that city, whose object in visiting England is to
make arrangements for publishing authorised edi-
tions of new works in Germany."

In October of the same year, Mr. Longman
wrote to tell her that " Meredith," which presum-

LADY BLESSINGTON 425

ably had been published at her own risk, had not
met with the success he anticipated; 384 copies
in all had been sold. " I shall be obliged," says
the publisher, "by your informing me whether
you would wish it to be again advertised next
month. It was your wish that we should not
spend above fifty pounds without consulting you ;
we have spent only about forty-five."

This was unwelcome news, but worse was to
come ; for two years later Mr. Colbourn complains
that he has sold only four hundred copies of her
novel, " Strathern, or Life at Home and Abroad,"
the result being that he has lost forty pounds by
its publication. He adds that he must decline her
suggestion that he should bring out another work
from her pen.

Even with such disheartening results she con-
tinued to write novels, knowing that some sum,
however small, would reward her labour. There-
fore, in 1846, she had published "Lionel Deer-
hurst " and " The Memoirs of a Femme de
Chambre," and in this year, 1847, came "Mar-
maduke Herbert," the last of her works she was
to see published in volume form. The list of her
misfortunes was not yet complete ; for at the end
of the year Heath, the publisher and proprietor of
the "Book of Beauty," died insolvent, being in her
debt seven hundred pounds.

Her condition was pitiable. Beset by accounts
she was unable to pay, seeing in prospective bills,

426 THE MOST GORGEOUS

signed when she had hopes of being able to meet
them, but which she now had no funds to take up,
her days were troubled and her nights were sleep-
less. That her difficulties had arisen because of
her efforts to help others was slight comfort, and
scarce alleviated the weariness and strife which
filled every hour of a life to which humiliation and
sordidness were bitterness.

No wonder she wrote at this time, " Great trials
demand great courage, and all our energy is called
up to enable us to bear them. But it is the minor
cares of life that wear out the body, because singly
and in detail they do not appear sufficiently im-
portant to engage us to rally our force and spirits
to support them. Many minds that have with-
stood the most severe trials "have been broken
down by a succession of ignoble cares."

Lady Blessington was resolved that, no matter
what sacrifices had to be made, her creditors
should be fully paid; and, if no other means of
accomplishing this presented itself, she would
break up the home which was dear to her, sell
its possessions, which were invaluable to her from
associations, and settle abroad. Before taking this
decisive step she would see if it were possible to
be averted. She had contemplated it before, but
the knowledge that it would sunder a thousand ties
and connections dear to her, which, at her time of
life, she could not hope to reestablish, had made
her cling to her home.

LADY BLESSINGTON 427

From this year forward care was taken to shut
the door upon the bailiffs. The great gates were
chained and locked, and when the outer bell an-
nounced a visitor, a stalwart figure issued from a
side door to survey the caller, and the immediate
neighbourhood. If the visitor were recognised as
a friend of my lady, he was allowed to pass unchal-
lenged ; if he were unknown, his message or his
card was received with some suspicion, and he
shut out until her decision was known concerning
him.

The while she continued to correspond with
and to receive her old friends. In January of this
year, Charles Dickens, writing to her from Paris,
says : " I feel very wicked in beginning this note,
and deeply remorseful for not having begun and
ended it long ago. But you know how difficult it
is to write letters in the midst of a writing life ;
and as you know, too (I hope), how earnestly and
affectionately I always think of you wherever I
am, I take heart on a little consideration, and feel
comparatively good again."

He has been attending the theatres and seeing
the sights of the French capital, until he has be-
gun to doubt whether he had anything to do with
a book called " Dombey," " or ever sat over number
five (not finished a fortnight yet) day after day,
until I half began, like the monk in poor Wilkie's
story, to think it the only reality in life, and to
mistake all the realities for short-lived shadows."

428 THE MOST GORGEOUS

One Sunday evening, in the following month,
the writer of this letter, together with his eldest
son, Prince Louis Napoleon, Bulwer Lytton, and
John Forster, had assembled in the drawing-room
of Gore House. The hostess, who ever had some-
thing of interest to relate or exhibit, on this even-
ing showed them a portrait in oils of a girl's face,
which she had received the previous day from her
brother Robert, who was now filling a government
post in Hobart Town. The chief interest in the
portrait was its having been painted by the cele-
brated poisoner, Wainright, then undergoing his
sentence of transportation, whom Dickens had once
seen when visiting Newgate Prison.

A strange thing about this picture was that
Wainright had contrived to paint into the face of
the young girl an expression of his own wicked-
ness ; a point that gave Bulwer Lytton a theme
for psychological discussion, in which Dickens
joined ; both writers being intensely interested in
this convict, whose remarkable career had fur-
nished each with a subject for a novel.

It was in 1847, that an event occurred which
was much discussed by Lady Blessington's circle,
this being the marriage of the Countess Guiccioli.
In 1 840 her lord had died, and for full seven years
had she, if no longer radiant with youth, at least
hallowed by association with Byron, waited for an
adventurous swain to wed her. He arrived at last
in the person of the Marquis de Boissy, an ancient

LADY BLESSINGTON 429

man, and a wealthy, a peer under Louis Philippe,
and a philosopher, who, devoted to his wife, and
proud of her liaison with a great poet, was wont
to introduce her to his friends as " Madame la
Marquise de Boissy, mafemme, ci-devant maitresse
de Lord Byron"

It may here be mentioned that Madame Guic-
cioli had, years before, become a spiritist, and re-
ceived the assurance that "she had prayed so
much for Lord Byron, he had become elevated to
an exalted state in heaven." It is creditable to
one whose faithfulness was not his strongest char-
acteristic on earth, that he did not forget the
Guiccioli on attaining realms of bliss ; for he fre-
quently communicated with her, using her hand
for the purpose, and writing in the French lan-
guage, a task he had been unable to accomplish
when his education was less advanced here below.

Another event, which more nearly touched the
inmates of Gore House, happened in 1848, when,
by the dethronement of Louis Philippe and the
proclamation of a republic in France, Prince Louis
appeared upon the scene, was returned by five
departments to the Assembly, and later was chosen
President of the republic by five and a half mil-
lion votes.

It was in January, 1849, a ^ew months after
Prince Louis had become President, that Lady
Blessington received a letter from Landor, contain-
ing a prediction, and enclosing two articles clipped

430 THE MOST GORGEOUS

from the Examiner, which he thinks she may not
have seen. He tells her he had written another,
" deprecating the anxieties which a truly patriotic,
and, in my opinion, a singularly wise man, was
about to encounter in accepting the presidency
of France. Necessity will compel him to assume
the imperial power, to which the voice of the army
and people will call him.

"You know (who know not only my writings,
but my heart) how little I care for station. I may,
therefore, tell you safely that I feel a great inter-
est, a great anxiety, for the welfare of Louis
Napoleon. I told him if ever he were again in
prison, I would visit him there ; but never if he
were upon a throne would I come near him. He
is the only man living who would adorn one, but
thrones are my aversion and abhorrence. God
protect the virtuous Louis Napoleon, and prolong
in happiness the days of my dear, kind friend,
Lady Blessington. I wrote a short letter to the
President, and not of congratulation. May he find
many friends as disinterested and sincere."

A few days previous to the receipt of Lander's
letter, Disraeli wrote her a note dated from Hugh-
endon Manor, into which he had just moved. In
this he says he has taken "the liberty of telling
Moxon to send you a copy of the new edit, of the
* Curiosts : of Li : ' wh. I have just published, with
a little notice of my father. You were always so
kind to him, etc., he entertained such a sincere

LADY BLESSINGTON 431

regard for you, that I thought you wd not dislike
to have this copy on yr shelves.

" I found among his papers some verses wh. :
you sent him on his 8oth birthday, wh. : I mean
to publish some day, with his correspondence ; but
the labour now is too great for my jaded life.

" My wife complains very much that I broke my
promise to her, and did not bring her to pay you
a visit when we last passed thro* town ; but I was
as great a sufferer by that omission as herself.
The truth is, I am always hurried to death, and
quite worn out, chiefly by statistics, tho' I hope
the great Californian discovery, by revolutionising
all existing data, will finally blow up these impos-
tures and their votaries of all parties.

" We have passed the last six weeks in moving
from Bradenham to this place, — a terrible affair,
especially for the library, tho' only a few miles.
I seem to have lived in wagons like a Tartar
chief. Would I were really one, but this is a life
of trial, and Paradise, I hope, is a land where there
are neither towns nor country.

" Our kindest regards to you all," etc.

Meanwhile, every week that passed increased
Lady Blessington's difficulties, until there seemed
no longer any hope that her debts could be paid
save by breaking up her home and selling all she
possessed. By this time her health had almost
broken down under the strain of anxious days
and sleepless nights. At the end of March, 1849,

432 THE MOST GORGEOUS

suspense was ended, and matters brought to a
crisis, when a sheriff's officer, by strategy, effected
an entrance to Gore House with an execution put
in by Howell & James for a considerable sum.
It was now hourly feared that a host of other
creditors would descend upon her. Count D'Or-
say could no longer find refuge within her gates
from the bailiff. Immediate action was necessary.

No sooner, therefore, did Lady Blessington
learn of the entrance of the sheriff's officer, than
she sent for D'Orsay, and the result of their con-
sultation was that he and his valet left Gore House
that night for Paris. Before following him, Lady
Blessington remained until various arrangements
were made. By effecting a life insurance for a
large amount, which she handed to the most im-
portunate of her creditors, her debts were reduced
to about fifteen hundred pounds, a sum she felt
sure would be more than covered by the sale of
furniture, pictures, objects of art, and jewels.

It is creditable to human nature, of which much
good cannot be stated, to know that several friends
offered her such assistance as even at this late hour
would have prevented the necessity of breaking up
her home ; but all such kindnesses were gratefully,
but firmly, declined by one who, through life, had
preferred rather to give than to receive.

Having placed Gore House in the hands of an
auctioneer, she and her nieces quitted this scene
of her labours, the home that had witnessed so

LADY BLESSINGTON 433

many brilliant gatherings, the place she had made
beautiful with objects dear to her from association.
Leaving for ever what had become part of herself,
was a wrench that filled a sensitive nature like hers
with exquisite pain. A trial more grievous still was
saying farewell to friends ; yet in this she did not
spare herself. Amongst others she wrote to John
Forster, on the Qth of April, saying, "As I pur-
pose leaving England in a few days, it will pain
me very much to depart without personally wish-
ing you farewell ; and though I am in all the fever
of packing up, I will make time to receive a visit
from you, if you can call any day this week about
eleven o'clock in the forenoon, or after nine in
the evening. Count D'Orsay was called to Paris
so suddenly that he had not time to take leave
of any of his friends, but he charged me to say
a thousand kind things to you." Within a week
from the time this letter was written she had left
England for ever.

Her departure left a melancholy blank in the
lives of her numerous friends which no other
woman could supply ; whilst her ready sympathy,
her cheerfully given aid, her kindly words, were
sadly missed by those whom she long had helped.
The slander which had poisoned her life was now
almost forgotten in the general sympathy for her
misfortunes. A censorious world began to won-
der if it had really wronged her ; if its judgments
could be mistaken. " Those who knew her best,"

434 THE MOST GORGEOUS

says William Archer Shee, writing at this date,
" find it difficult to believe her to be utterly devoid
of all the better instincts of her sex, and recognise
much in her character, as it appeared to them in
their social moments under her roof, that marked
the woman of generous impulses, and refined tastes
and feelings. The habitufc of Seamore Place and
Gore House will always look back on the evenings
spent there with grateful remembrances of her
who knew how to attract to her salons all that was
most conspicuous in London male society, whether
in art, science, literature, the senate, or the forum.
No one was more competent than she to appre-
ciate the talents of those she gathered around her,
who, on their part, one and all, did justice to her
own brilliant qualities."

And N. P. Willis, writing at a time when she
could no longer read his words, of the position
she held toward D'Orsay, says, "All who knew
her, and her son-in-law, were satisfied that it was
a useful and indeed an absolutely necessary ar-
rangement for him, — her strict business habits,
practical good sense, and the protection of her
roof being an indispensable safeguard to his per-
sonal liberty and fortunes, — and that this need of
serving him, and the strongest and most disinter-
ested friendship, were her only motives, every one
was completely sure who knew them at all. By
those intimate at her house, including the best and
greatest men of England, Lady Blessington was

LADY BLESSINGTON 435

held in unqualified respect, and no shadow even
of suspicion thrown over her life of widowhood."

Gore House having been placed in the hands
of Phillips, the auctioneer, he issued a notice that
on Monday, the /th of May, and for twelve subse-
quent days, would take place the sale of her
household furniture, her library, consisting of five
thousand volumes, her pictures, porcelain, plate,
and a casket of valuable jewelry. For three days
previous to the auction the house could be viewed
by the purchasers of catalogues, issued at three
shillings each ; one catalogue admitting two per-
sons. During those three days not less than
twenty thousand persons visited the house.

The gates that had shut out many a bailiff were
now flung wide. The approach to the house was
as the entrance to a fair. The vestibule was occu-
pied by brokers, Jews, and bailiffs, a large number
of the same fraternity being scattered over the
rooms inside. The carpets were up, but pictures
yet hung upon the walls, costly china stood upon
brackets and mantelpieces, the furniture was in its
accustomed place ; all of which were examined by a
curious throng. Lady Jersey, at the head of a bevy
of fine ladies, loitered through one apartment after
another, scrutinising all things, something of scorn
in their remarks, sarcastic smiles on their lips;
furniture dealers examined chairs and tables ; pres-
entation volumes were dragged from their shelves,
opened, thumbed, and read ; picture dealers exam-

436 THE MOST GORGEOUS

ined paintings and prints, speculating regarding
the probable prices they would fetch ; groups of
idlers, and eager sightseers, gazed at the rooms
where so many famous people had met ; men in
baize aprons and paper caps hurried to and fro;
sounds of hammering came from rooms up-stairs,
heard above the confusion caused by a hundred
tongues. And over all was a sense of desolation,
an air of desecration, an appearance of downfall,
pitiful to feel, and to see ; one that brought tears
to the eyes of William Makepeace Thackeray, as
Francois Avillon, one of Lady Blessington's ser-
vants, wrote to his mistress.

Her belongings were sold to advantage. Her
portrait, painted by Sir Thomas Lawrence, for
which he had received eighty guineas, was knocked
down for ,£336, to Lord Hertford, who also bought
the portrait of the Duke of Wellington, by D'Orsay,
for .£189. A sketch by Landseer of Miss Power
brought £^7 J whilst the same artist's picture of
a spaniel was sold for .£150. The net sum real-
ised by the sale amounted to close upon twelve
thousand pounds, which covered Lady Blessing-
ton's debts.

Meanwhile, she and her nieces having reached
Paris, stayed at the H6tel de la Ville TEveque,
until they could find a suitable appartement. The
step long contemplated had been taken, and relief
had followed ; for if a wrench was made, a burden
was laid aside. She was no longer fretted by a

LADY BLESSINGTON 437

thousand cares and fears ; her doors were darkened
no more by anxious creditors ; a sense of freedom
and calm fell upon her, and her wonder was that
years before she had not sought escape from her
troubles. She had her jointure of two thousand a
year, which was now being regularly paid, and she
intended to continue her literary work, in the hope
that it might aid her income.

Moreover, it was believed that D'Orsay, who to
some extent depended on her, would soon receive
a position suitable to his station and talents from
Prince Louis, who in this way would no doubt
strive to make some return for the kindness and
hospitality he had for years received from the
inmates of Gore House. This, however, was a
hope not destined to be speedily fulfilled. On
hearing of Lady Blessington's arrival, the prince
had invited her and her nieces to call on him at
the Elysde, and later asked them and Count
D'Orsay to dinner. But the manner and bear-
ing of the President was not that of the refugee :
a punctilious politeness emphasising rather than
concealing the difference in his feelings toward
old friends and kind hosts ; a difference which
cut to the quick the generous, warm-hearted
woman to whom he owed so much.

Fortunately, others were truer and kinder.
The Guiccioli, now Marquise de Boissy, called
at once upon her old friend, at whose disposal
she placed her carriage, and whom she con tin u-

438 THE MOST GORGEOUS

ally invited to her home. Many of those whom
she had known during her residence in Paris
hastened to renew their acquaintance with Lady
Blessington ; whilst the members of D'Orsay's
family showed her every sympathy and kindness
possible. Nor did her old friends in England fail
to remember her. In the numerous letters she
received from them, one and all expressed their
profound regret at her departure, whilst many
hoped for her ultimate return amongst them.

A few days after she left London Disraeli wrote
to her : " We returned to town on the i6th, and a
few days after I called at Gore House, but you
were gone. It was a pang ; for though absorbing
duties of my life have prevented me of late from
passing as much time under that roof as it was
once my happiness and good fortune through
your kindness to do, you are well assured that
my heart never changed for an instant to its in-
mates, and that I invariably entertained for them
the same interest and affection.

" Had I been aware of your intentions, I would
have come up to town earlier, and especially to
have said 'adieu/ mournful as that is.

" I thought I should never pay another visit to
Paris, but I have now an object in doing so. All
the world here will miss you very much, and the
charm with which you invested existence ; but, for
your own happiness, I am persuaded you have
acted wisely. Every now and then in this life we

LADY BLESSINGTON 439

require a great change ; it wonderfully revives the
sense of existence. I envy you ; pray, if possible,
let me sometimes hear from you/'

And Henry Bulwer, writing to her on the 6th of
May, says : " I was very glad to get your letter. I
never had a doubt (I judged by myself) that your
friends would remain always your friends, and I
was sure that many who were not Alfred's when
he was away would become so when he was pres-
ent. It would be great ingratitude if Prince Louis
forgot former kindnesses and services, and I must
say that I do not think him capable of this.

" I think you will take a house in Paris or near
it, and I hope some day there to find you, and to
renew some of the many happy hours I have spent
in your society."

After several weeks of searching, she eventually
found an appartement suitable for herself and her
nieces, in the Rue du Cerq, not far from the
Champs Elyse"e. In furnishing and decorating
her new home she found exercise for the taste
that had ever distinguished her, and escape from
the thoughts of her recent worries. A new life
which promised fair opened before her, and with
it she began new habits, for she now rose much
earlier than was her wont, and she took more
exercise than she had done for years; the result
being that she seemed in happier spirits and in
better health.

Indeed, she would have considered herself quite

440 THE MOST GORGEOUS

well if it were not that in the mornings, before
rising, she began to suffer from oppression and
difficulty of breathing. As she always had an ob-
jection to medical treatment, she not only con-
cealed these symptoms from her nieces, but would
have ignored them herself, did they not rapidly
increase, when at last a doctor was summoned,
who, on examining her, said there was Mrgie de
cceur, but that the unpleasantness from which she
suffered was probably due to bronchitis, and that
no danger need be feared. Remedies were pre-
scribed, the attacks became less frequent, and her
general health seemed good.

After having spent seven weeks at the hotel,
she removed to her new home on the 3d of June.
On the evening of that day she dined en famille
with the Due and Duchesse de Guiche, D'Orsay's
nephew and his wife. The party was quiet and
enjoyable, and none seemed in better spirits than
Lady Blessington. As the night was deliciously
warm, and almost as bright as day, the moon being
near to the full, she proposed to walk the short
distance that separated her from her home.

She passed a sleepless night, and early in the
morning, feeling that one of her attacks was
inevitable, she called for assistance. The doctor
was immediately summoned, but before his arrival
the difficulty of breathing became excessive, she
gasped at the air, and her extremities grew gradu-
ally cold. The remedies which had been recom-

LADY BLESSINGTON 441

mended were tried, and after a time she was
enabled to mutter the words, "The violence is
over; I can breathe freer." After a little while
she asked what hour it was. The doctor then
arrived, and a glance showed him that, for her, life
was over. She sank into a sleep so tranquil that
none might say at what moment her spirit took
flight.

Two days later the autopsy took place, when it
was seen that the heart had become enlarged to
nearly double its natural size, a growth which it
was considered had been progressing for twenty-
five years, and was now the cause of her death.
The body was then embalmed and placed in the
vaults of the Madeleine, there to remain until the
mausoleum which D'Orsay set himself to con-
struct, would be ready.

To all her friends her death came as a shock
and a grief ; for each knew there was no replacing
her ; that the blank they felt could not be filled.
None missed her gracious presence, the kindness
and sympathy she had ever expressed in her letters,
more than Landor, yet he mournfully asks, " Why
call her death sad ? It was the very mode of
departure she anticipated and desired; as I do,
too."

In due time a massive mausoleum of granite, in
the shape of a pyramid, was erected by D'Orsay
in the churchyard of Chambourcy, pres de St.
Germain-en-Laye. It stands on a square platform,

442 THE MOST GORGEOUS

on a level with the surrounding ground, but divided
from it by a deep fosse, whose sloping sides are
covered with turf and ivy transplanted from the
garden of the house in which she was born. The
interior contained two stone sarcophagi, standing
side by side, in one of which was placed the
remains of Lady Blessington, the other being
destined by D'Orsay for himself. On the wall
above were two white marble tablets, each con-
taining an inscription, written by two of Lady
Blessington's friends.
The first runs as follows :

"In Memory of

MARGUERITE, COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON,
Who died on the 4th of June, 1849.

In her lifetime

she was loved and admired

for her many graceful writings,

her gentle manners, her kind and generous

heart.
Men, famous for art and science

in distant lands,
sought her friendship,
and the historians and scholars, the poets,
and wits, and painters,

of her own country,

found an unfailing welcome

in her ever hospitable home.

She gave cheerfully to all who were in need,

help and sympathy and useful counsel;

and she died

LADY BLESSINGTON 443

lamented by her friends.
They who loved her best in life, and now

lament her most,

have raised this tributary marble

over the place of her rest.

BARRY CORNWALL."

The second inscription was written in Latin by
Landor, the English version of the words being:
" To the memory of Marguerite, Countess of Bless-
ington. Underneath lies all that could be interred
of a once beautiful woman. Her own genius she
cultivated with zeal, in others she fostered its
growth with equal assiduity. The benefits she
conferred she could conceal, but not her talents.
Elegant in her hospitality to strangers, she was
charitable to all. She retired to Paris, where she
breathed her last, on the 4th of April, 1849."

Her loss to Count D'Orsay was beyond meas-
ure, and his grief was profound. " In losing her,"
he would exclaim over and over again, "I have
lost everything in the world ; for she was to me
a mother, a dear mother, a true and loving mother."
It was a blow from which he never recovered.

To the sorrow he felt for her was added the
vexation he experienced at the President's ingrati-
tude, for month after month passed and no diplo-
matic office was given him, who was sorely in need
of an employment which would have occupied his
mind and afforded him independence. Meanwhile,
he hired a large studio, to which was attached

444 THE MOST GORGEOUS

some rooms, and here he lived and worked, seeing
only the members of his family and a few intimate
friends.

In many ways he had become a changed man,
for not only had his old gaiety deserted him, his
love of dress and display and company vanished,
but it was evident his health was suffering. It
was not, however, until the spring of 1852 that
the first symptoms appeared of the malady that
ended his life. He was then afflicted with a
spinal disease which caused him acute suffering,
which he bore with extraordinary patience. When
he was now a doomed man, the President appointed
him superintendent of the Beaux Arts.

In July, D'Orsay's doctors ordered him to
Dieppe, a journey he made in company with Lady
Blessington's nieces, who carefully tended him
through his illness ; but the change being injurious
rather than beneficial, he was brought back again
to Paris, where he died on the 4th of August,
1852, in his fifty-first year. His remains were
placed in the sarcophagus standing beside that
which held all that was mortal of his friend.

Some ten years before, when, on the I3th of
July, 1842, the Due D'Orleans was flung from his
carriage and killed, the Comtesse D'Orsay lost her
protector. She then remained some years in se-
clusion, but on the ist of September, 1852, within
a month of her husband's death, she married
the Hon. Charles Spencer Cowper. Eventually

LADY BLESSINGTON 445

she became extremely devout, adopted a semi-
religious garb, and established on her husband's
estate at Sandringham an orphanage for the chil-
dren of soldiers who had fallen in the Crimean
War. Her charity was great.

To her, and to all of whom mention has here
been made, peace and farewell.

THE END.

DA Molloy, Joseph Fitzgerald

536 Lady Blessington

B66M64

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