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The Cautionary Tale of the ‘Female Byron’ The Cautionary Tale of the ‘Female Byron’
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We tend to think of women poets of the 19th century as unworldly creatures: Emily Dickinson, all in white, running away at the sight of strangers, or the equally reclusive Emily Brontë, writing out her poems in microscopic handwriting in tiny private notebooks. Neither wrote poetry for money or even with an eye to publication. As Brontë put it, “Riches I hold in light esteem / And love I laugh to scorn, / And lust of fame was but a dream / That vanished ere the morn.”We tend to think of women poets of the 19th century as unworldly creatures: Emily Dickinson, all in white, running away at the sight of strangers, or the equally reclusive Emily Brontë, writing out her poems in microscopic handwriting in tiny private notebooks. Neither wrote poetry for money or even with an eye to publication. As Brontë put it, “Riches I hold in light esteem / And love I laugh to scorn, / And lust of fame was but a dream / That vanished ere the morn.”
Those three subjects — money, sex and celebrity — were, in contrast, defining factors in the life and career of Letitia Elizabeth Landon, an early 19th-century poet. Though forgotten today, Landon was internationally famous in her lifetime as “the female Byron,” admired by literary luminaries from Heinrich Heine and Edgar Allan Poe to Elizabeth Barrett Browning. After a whirlwind career full of success and hidden scandal, she fled London, and poetry; in 1838, at the age of 36, she was found dead at Cape Coast Castle, a former slave fort in West Africa, clutching a bottle of prussic acid.Those three subjects — money, sex and celebrity — were, in contrast, defining factors in the life and career of Letitia Elizabeth Landon, an early 19th-century poet. Though forgotten today, Landon was internationally famous in her lifetime as “the female Byron,” admired by literary luminaries from Heinrich Heine and Edgar Allan Poe to Elizabeth Barrett Browning. After a whirlwind career full of success and hidden scandal, she fled London, and poetry; in 1838, at the age of 36, she was found dead at Cape Coast Castle, a former slave fort in West Africa, clutching a bottle of prussic acid.
Landon was born in 1802 into a well-to-do family in London, at a time when poetry was not a rarefied genre but a popular craze, and potentially big business. In 1816, Thomas Moore was paid an exorbitant 3,000 pounds — about 255,000 pounds, or $322,000, today — for his orientalist fantasia “Lalla Rookh.”Landon was born in 1802 into a well-to-do family in London, at a time when poetry was not a rarefied genre but a popular craze, and potentially big business. In 1816, Thomas Moore was paid an exorbitant 3,000 pounds — about 255,000 pounds, or $322,000, today — for his orientalist fantasia “Lalla Rookh.”
Although Landon composed verse from childhood, she only began to publish in her late teens, after her father went bankrupt. In 1820 she was put in touch with a neighbor, William Jerdan, the editor and part-owner of The Literary Gazette. The first popular cultural weekly in an era of dusty quarterlies, it had been founded in 1817 by the most hard-nosed businessman in British publishing, Henry Colburn. He was known as the father of “puffery,” a term analogous to the modern “hype,” but surrounded by a seamier sense of corruption and insider trading.Although Landon composed verse from childhood, she only began to publish in her late teens, after her father went bankrupt. In 1820 she was put in touch with a neighbor, William Jerdan, the editor and part-owner of The Literary Gazette. The first popular cultural weekly in an era of dusty quarterlies, it had been founded in 1817 by the most hard-nosed businessman in British publishing, Henry Colburn. He was known as the father of “puffery,” a term analogous to the modern “hype,” but surrounded by a seamier sense of corruption and insider trading.
The 1820s saw myriad start-up periodicals, hoping to woo an expanding base of literate, culturally aspirational consumers, and boosted by technological advances in printing. Many quickly collapsed in the era’s boom-and-bust economy. But The Gazette kept going, largely thanks to the work of Letitia Landon.The 1820s saw myriad start-up periodicals, hoping to woo an expanding base of literate, culturally aspirational consumers, and boosted by technological advances in printing. Many quickly collapsed in the era’s boom-and-bust economy. But The Gazette kept going, largely thanks to the work of Letitia Landon.
Jerdan took on the ambitious 18-year-old poet as an unpaid intern, training her to be his unacknowledged deputy and giving her control of the poetry column. It was there that she began using her initials to sign her poems. Her anonymity drew readers’ curiosity, which she further stoked by dropping hints that she was a “lady yet in her teens.” Readers bought The Gazette week after week in the hope that the mysterious poet would reveal more of herself.Jerdan took on the ambitious 18-year-old poet as an unpaid intern, training her to be his unacknowledged deputy and giving her control of the poetry column. It was there that she began using her initials to sign her poems. Her anonymity drew readers’ curiosity, which she further stoked by dropping hints that she was a “lady yet in her teens.” Readers bought The Gazette week after week in the hope that the mysterious poet would reveal more of herself.
In the fantasy figure of “L.E.L.,” Landon seduced her audience by creating a poetic brand that both was and was not herself. She frequently used the first-person voice in seeming to confess her deepest feelings, but her tone was slippery. Some readers imagined her as an innocent ingénue; others found her writing subversively erotic. She could ululate with agonized passion, but she could also swoop from syrupy to cynical in a single lyric, imagining, say, sharing a “leafy couch” on an island paradise with her beloved, only to end in mocking bathos: “I thought thus of the flowers, the moon,/This fairy isle for you and me;/And then I thought how very soon/How very tired we would be.”In the fantasy figure of “L.E.L.,” Landon seduced her audience by creating a poetic brand that both was and was not herself. She frequently used the first-person voice in seeming to confess her deepest feelings, but her tone was slippery. Some readers imagined her as an innocent ingénue; others found her writing subversively erotic. She could ululate with agonized passion, but she could also swoop from syrupy to cynical in a single lyric, imagining, say, sharing a “leafy couch” on an island paradise with her beloved, only to end in mocking bathos: “I thought thus of the flowers, the moon,/This fairy isle for you and me;/And then I thought how very soon/How very tired we would be.”
Behind the scenes, Jerdan was not only helping her career, but, as he quaintly put it in his autobiography, “cultivating the divine organisation of her being.” Their workplace affair was based on a power imbalance she could never escape. A married man 20 years her senior, he went on to father three children with her, all of whom she kept from the public and had to give away — a fact that only came to light in 2000.Behind the scenes, Jerdan was not only helping her career, but, as he quaintly put it in his autobiography, “cultivating the divine organisation of her being.” Their workplace affair was based on a power imbalance she could never escape. A married man 20 years her senior, he went on to father three children with her, all of whom she kept from the public and had to give away — a fact that only came to light in 2000.
By 1824, Keats, Shelley and Byron were all dead. That year, with one secret baby already behind her, Landon stepped out from behind the veil of L.E.L. to become an acknowledged celebrity with the publication of her best-selling first poetry collection, “The Improvisatrice.”By 1824, Keats, Shelley and Byron were all dead. That year, with one secret baby already behind her, Landon stepped out from behind the veil of L.E.L. to become an acknowledged celebrity with the publication of her best-selling first poetry collection, “The Improvisatrice.”
Today, we revere the Emily Dickinson model of poetry as a pure channel for personal authenticity and eternal verities. Landon, in contrast, won fame because she was able to wear many masks, even in her poetry. She wrote several poems using the voices of iconic female poets, like Sappho, and fictional characters like Erinna, Eulalia and the Improvisatrice. These poems anticipate Cindy Sherman’s self-portraiture in different guises: There is a self-conscious, pre-postmodern atmosphere around them.Today, we revere the Emily Dickinson model of poetry as a pure channel for personal authenticity and eternal verities. Landon, in contrast, won fame because she was able to wear many masks, even in her poetry. She wrote several poems using the voices of iconic female poets, like Sappho, and fictional characters like Erinna, Eulalia and the Improvisatrice. These poems anticipate Cindy Sherman’s self-portraiture in different guises: There is a self-conscious, pre-postmodern atmosphere around them.
Landon had a calculated understanding of the mechanics of publicity, but also a tortured awareness that the persona she had created was a Frankenstein’s monster beyond her control. Few poets have ever commented so acutely on their own dissemination, and the concomitant hollowing out of self. “I lived only in others’ breath,” she wrote.Landon had a calculated understanding of the mechanics of publicity, but also a tortured awareness that the persona she had created was a Frankenstein’s monster beyond her control. Few poets have ever commented so acutely on their own dissemination, and the concomitant hollowing out of self. “I lived only in others’ breath,” she wrote.
Back in the Utopian 1790s, radical writers like Percy Bysshe Shelley put their faith in the Enlightenment ideal of “truth,” and in the printed word as its conduit. But by the politically repressive, rampantly commercial climate of the 1820s, the public sphere had become a tool for reputation management, spin and factionalism. The Shelleyan “lyre” became a “liar” — an underhand pun frequently employed by L.E.L., who was hiding in plain sight. Back in the Utopian 1790s, radical writers put their faith in the Enlightenment ideal of “truth,” and in the printed word as its conduit. But by the politically repressive, rampantly commercial climate of the 1820s, the public sphere had become a tool for reputation management, spin and factionalism. The Shelleyan “lyre” became a “liar” — an underhand pun frequently employed by L.E.L., who was hiding in plain sight.
Only on occasion, and obliquely, did Landon give voice to her own personal conflicts. Shortly after she gave birth in secret to her third and last child, Laura, she wrote: “While none among us dares to say/ What none will choose to hear.”Only on occasion, and obliquely, did Landon give voice to her own personal conflicts. Shortly after she gave birth in secret to her third and last child, Laura, she wrote: “While none among us dares to say/ What none will choose to hear.”
Landon’s affair with Jerdan lasted several years, even as he siphoned money off her earnings. It was already an open secret in London’s ink-stained magazine offices, though not among most of her fans. Her colleagues, inevitably all male, grudgingly accepted her as a fellow professional, but trolled her in their columns with obscene innuendo and threatened exposure that finally drove her to exile in Africa, and suicide.Landon’s affair with Jerdan lasted several years, even as he siphoned money off her earnings. It was already an open secret in London’s ink-stained magazine offices, though not among most of her fans. Her colleagues, inevitably all male, grudgingly accepted her as a fellow professional, but trolled her in their columns with obscene innuendo and threatened exposure that finally drove her to exile in Africa, and suicide.
Even today, Letitia Landon provokes a virulently gendered response, as I have discovered after publishing a biography of her. One male critic wrote that I should have left her in the “kitchen slops bucket” of literary history. A female critic in the Italian press, on the contrary, thought Landon ought to be taught in schools, especially in the #metoo era.Even today, Letitia Landon provokes a virulently gendered response, as I have discovered after publishing a biography of her. One male critic wrote that I should have left her in the “kitchen slops bucket” of literary history. A female critic in the Italian press, on the contrary, thought Landon ought to be taught in schools, especially in the #metoo era.
Landon’s death was followed by the general retreat by women writers from the public eye. Many chose to live in personal retirement and publish under male pseudonyms such as Currer Bell (Charlotte Brontë) and George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans). Landon’s experience, bracingly modern in so many ways, is also a cautionary tale, as relevant today as it was in her lifetime.Landon’s death was followed by the general retreat by women writers from the public eye. Many chose to live in personal retirement and publish under male pseudonyms such as Currer Bell (Charlotte Brontë) and George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans). Landon’s experience, bracingly modern in so many ways, is also a cautionary tale, as relevant today as it was in her lifetime.
Lucasta Miller is the author of “L.E.L.: The Lost Life and Scandalous Death of Letitia Elizabeth Landon, the Celebrated ‘Female Byron.’”Lucasta Miller is the author of “L.E.L.: The Lost Life and Scandalous Death of Letitia Elizabeth Landon, the Celebrated ‘Female Byron.’”
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