In the perfection of matured beauty, her form | beauty, and in bridal costume, leaning upon was exquisitely moulded, inclining to fulness, his arm, and presented her as Lady Blessingbut no finer proportions could be imagined; her ton." Decorations, costly as the catafalque, movements natural and graceful at all times, in were now lavished on the new bride. At her merriest as well as gavest moods. The pe- Mountjoy Forest she found her private sitculiar character of her beauty consisted in the ting-room hung with crimson silk velvet, trimcorrespondence of every feature with the emotion of her mind. The instant a joyous thought med with gold. At their hotel in Paris the took possession of her fancy, you read it in her reception-rooms were fitted up with crimson sparkling eyes, her laughing lips; you heard it satin and gold. Gold, and marble, and mirin her ringing laugh, clear and sweet as child- rors, abounded everywhere. But her ladyship's bed-room and dressing-room was surprise of splendor, prepared for her by her hood's merriest tones. But here was the grand secret of her fasci- gallant husband" (to use her own words). nation : a A The bed was silvered in place of being gilt, and rested on the backs of two large silver There was a geniality in the warmth of her swans. It was placed in a recess, lined with Irish feelings, an abandonment of all care, of all fluted white silk, while pale-blue silk curtains, apparent consciousness of her own powers of attraction; a glowing sunshine of good-humor lined with white, fell from the frieze, which and good-nature in the smiles, and wit, and was supported by columns at each side. laughter of this lovely woman, seldom surpassed silvered sofa, resting on a velvet carpet of in the looks and expression of any person, how- pale blue, rich coffers for jewels and India ever beautiful. Her voice was sweetly modulat- shawls, a silver lamp, and all the ornaments ed, and low, clear, silver-toned. All her beauty, without this exquisite sweetness of her voice, and the witchery of its tones, would have been only a secondary attraction. Her voice, and this "sweet Irish laugh of hers," are continually alluded to by her admiring correspondents. Indeed, though we cannot speak from experience, her existence to us being nothing more than a tradition of past beauty and mystery, yet it is impossible not to believe in the many fascinations of Lady Blessington, but especially in her beauty and gentle kindness. All her correspondents bear witness to those graces. Her hand had been copied in marble, and Prince Schwartzenberg thus writes concerning it : I kiss that lovely hand, even as you permitted me when I took my leave. Send me the one of marble, that I may warm it with my lips. In the midst of my solitude your image comes to console me. I love to recall your enchanting form, and the hours I passed near you seem to me a dream. Write to me two lines, and a third which says Marguerite, and I am happy. When shall I see you again, and recount my adventures while you listen, resting your beautiful hand upon that lovely hair I have admired so often?" And Moore reminds her of the day when he beheld "two dazzling faces popped out of a window in Sackville-street" (those of the sisters Marguerite and Ellen). silvered, complete the picture. The dressing- The splendid town mansion of the new-married Lord and Lady became, as we have said, the rendezvous of all men of intellect-literati, statesmen, artists, eminent men in all profes sions, were the habitual visiters of the house. Two royal dukes even condescended to do homage at the new shrine of Irish beauty and intellect. Canning and Castlereagh, Lords Palmerston and Russell, Scarlett, Jakyll, Erskine, and other celebrities paid their devoirs there. Kemble and Matthews, Laurence and Wilkie; eminent divines, Parr and others; and all murmured around the fair Countess Rogers and Moore were among her votaries; their homage of admiration, respect, or gratitude; for to all she had shown some courtesy or kindness, special and graceful. All who approached her found sympathy, and by this quick sympathy with others she won their confidence. This was perhaps the great secret of her powers of attraction, and for this beautiful and womanly grace, that made her presence, her letters, her kind words and smiles synonymous with happiness, may many errors be forgiven. About three years after Lady Blessington's Lord Blessington had kept his second mar- marriage, among the distinguished foreigners riage a secret, even from his own friends. who appeared at her house were the Duc de None of them were aware of it, until at a din- Grammont, and his brother-in-law, the young ner given to a distinguished circle in Henri- Count D'Orsay. The Count was handsome etta-street, in the same room where the £4,- as the divine Apollo, and clever and brilliant 000 catafalque of the deceased wife had lain, in addition. With such qualities he soon won he entered "with a lady of extraordinary the ardent friendship of Lord and Lady Bles sington. They were meditating a tour through awoke in her. She read much, and strove to Italy, and proposed that he should accompany penetrate the beauty and mystery of the Past, them. The rest of the party consisted of Miss whether in art or literature; always, too, unPower, afterwards the Comtesse de St. Mar-der the guidance of some leading intellect.— sauld, and Mr. Charles Matthews, the present At Genoa she had studied poetry in a poet's great comedian, then a youth of twenty, and heart. At Rome, Naples, and Florence, she a protegé of Lord Blessington's. At Genoa talked of antiquities with Sir William Gell; they met Lord Byron, who describes Lady of literature with Lord Morpeth; and of all Blessington, in a letter to Moore, as "highly that was deep and noblest in the antique life literary, and very pretty, even in a morning with Walter Savage Landor. -a species of beauty on which the sun of Italy does not shine so frequently as the chandelier." Her ladyship was "disappointed" in By ron: Uwins the painter, Westmacott, Maclise, Sir John Herschell, were also her daily companions. With them she could investigate the heavens and the earth, temples and tombs, fallen columns, and fragments of dead gods, a new planet, or a buried city. Mr. Charles Matthews thus describes the mode of life at Blessington Villa, in Naples: "He expressed," she says, "warmly at their departure the pleasure which the visit had afforded him, and she doubted not his sincerity, not from any merit in their party, but simply A paradise of a place, with a splendid view of that Byron liked to hear news of his old associ- the Mediterranean and surrounding mountains, ates, and to pass them in review, pronouncing Vesuvius in the centre. Nothing can be more sarcasms on each as they were mentioned. His delightful than the exterior and interior. Lady laugh is musical," she continues, " but he rarely Blessington is more charming than ever. This indulged in it during our interview; and when is the place, with all its associations, to draw he did, it was quickly followed by a graver as-out the resources of her mind; to discover her pect, as if he liked not this exhibition of hilar- talents, and be captivated by them. Our evenity. ings are charming; we have each of us a "Were I asked to point out the prominent table in the same room, at which we prosecute defect in Byron's manner, I should pronounce it our various studies, writing, drawing, reading to be a flippancy incompatible with the notion etc. All our conversations, which are frequent, we attach to the author of "Childe Harold," are upon improving subjects; the classics, the "Manfred;" and a want of self possession and existing antiquities around us. We write essays dignity that ought to characterize a man of birth upon various subjects proposed, which are read and genius. Yet his manners are very fascinat- in the evening, opposed and defended. I am ing more so, perhaps, than if they were dig-treated as one of the family. I make all my nified; but he is too gay, too flippant for a poet." drawings in the room with them, and am going to instruct Lady Blessington in architecture.It is proposed, as all of us desire to improve class, devoting an hour each day to that study. ourselves in Italian, that we should learn in a For antiquarian research we have all the an cient authors here to refer to. In short there never were people so perfectly happy as we are. Whenever any excursion is proposed, the previous evening is employed in reading and informieg ourselves thoroughly about what we are going "His lordship," Dr. Madden states, " suffered Lady Blessington to lecture him in prose, and what was worse, in verse; especially on the publicity he gave on his domestic unhappiness, when, as was said, "Byron wept for the press, and wiped his eyes with the public." His lordship wrote her some complimentary lines in return, but her inspiration could not make him rise above some very commonplace to see. doggrel. Every one of these distinguished Italian friends continued their intimacy with Lady Blessington by frequent letters, after her return to London; and thus we are indebted to this continental tour for the brilliant corres pondence, which forms the chief interest of her published life. That same year, 1823, they parted at Genoa, with much mutual regret, even tears. -the Blessingtons for the gayeties of Rome and Naples; Byron for glory, and a grave in Greece. If any intellect be lying latent in a human frame, it must awaken in Italy, where the earth is grand and the heavens beautiful; and especially in the silent Rome, where the In 1823, while in Genoa, Lord Blessington great dead of old lie stretched upon their lost his only legitimate son, the heir to his es monumental seven hills. Besides, travelling tates-the son of his first wife-for the second is employment-what all women want, and Lady Blessington had no children; upon the increased activity of the brain finds a which event he drew up a will, so singular manifestation somehow in the life. Lady in its provisions that Dr. Madden imputes it Blessington not only beheld, but studied the to partial insanity. By this will he bequeathworld around her. Then it was her literary ed all his property, except some legacies and ambition was aroused, and the sense of power the Tyrone estate, to Count D'Orsay, and THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON. and misunderstood. It was an unhappy marriage (he adds), and nothing to any useful purpose can be said of it, except that Lord Blessington sacrificed his child's happiness, by causing her to marry without consulting her inclinations or interests. whichever of his two daughters Count D'Or- sions, and total estrangements. In the course of s say chose to marry; and in case of refusal on a few years, the girl of childish mien and listless the part of either of the daughters selected, looks, who was so silent, and apparently inanishe was to receive but £10,000. These two mate became a person of remarkable beauty, daughters were Mary Gardiner, illegitimate, spirituelle, and intelligent, the reverse in all resaged twelve, and Lady Harriet Gardiner, pects of what she was considered when misplaced legitimate, aged eleven, both daughters of the one mother. To Lady Blessington he left a jointure of £3,000 a-year. But two months after, when the will was legally executed, this jointure was reduced to £2,000 a-year, while the other provisions remained the same. strange infatuation for Count D'Orsay this appears, to offer him the choice of either of his daughters, with a bribe of a vast property appended, while the daughters themselves were then but children, who had never seen Count D'Orsay, having been brought up in Dublin under the care of an aunt. A However, the D'Orsays and the Blessingtons continued to reside together during the remainder of their stay abroad; but as eight At Genoa, years had now been passed travelling, they thought of turning homewards. on their return, Lady Blessington was reminded at every spot of Byron, from whom before::she had there parted five years When the will was executed, General Count D'Orsay, father to Count Alfred, accompaWhile thus musing one day, she saw a young nied by Lord Blessington, went to Ireland to see the estates, and the young ladies. Lady English girl, who resembled Byron in an extraHarriet was selected as the future bride, her ordinary degree, accompanied by an elderly lady. legitimacy, perhaps, being the motive of pref- The English girl was Ada, sole daughter of erence with the proud D'Orsay family. Mean- my house and heart," and the elderly lady was. while, as the young Count is not mentioned her mother-the widow of Lord Byron. as being of the party to Ireland, he probably The year 1829 was passed at Paris in the remained in Italy with Lady Blessington.Curiosity even did not prompt him to go and splendid Hotel Ney, but the sudden death of Lord Blessington broke up the establishment see his bride. Four years after this arrangement, the at once. By this event her ladyship found young girl was sent for to Naples from Ireland, herself reduced to an income of only £2,000 and the marriage took place. Count D'Or-a-year, in place of £30,000; and besides she say was then twenty-six, the bride fifteen; really seemed to regret her husband's death from personal affection for him. and her supposed rival in the Count's affections was thirty-seven; a disparity of years which almost precludes the idea of any rivalry whatever. The Count received £40,000 fortune with his wife, and "separated himself from her almost at the church door." way back from Dr. Madden, when on his Egypt, met the Blessingtons about this time at Rome, and thus describes the young bride:- Lady Harriet was exceedingly girlish-looking pale and rather inanimate in expression, silent and reserved. There was no appearance of familiarity with any one around her; no air or look of womanhood, no semblance of satisfaction in her new position, were to be observed in her demeanor or deportment. She seldom or ever spoke, she was little noticed, and looked on as a mere school-girl. In her confidential letters long after, she speaks of much unkindness experienced at this period, after his death-of much suffering she had gone through, we do not know of what nature; for Dr. Madden states only, that 'painful circumstances" obliged the family to leave Paris; and accordingly, the year following, 1830, Lady Blessington proceeded to London, accompanied by the Count and Countess D'Orsay. In a short time the Countess D'Orsay returned to Paris, and her hnsband rented a small house in Curzon street, adjoining Lady Blessington's residence in Seymour-place: but after her removal to GoreHouse, the Count took up his abode entirely under the same roof with her ladyship. Some time after a deed of separation was drawn up between the Count and Lady Harriet, by which he relinquished his claim on the Bles sington estates for the sum of £100,000, which was agreed to, and paid by successive instal ments. I think her feelings were driven inward by the sense of slight and indifference, and by the strangeness and coldness of everything around her; and she became indifferent, and strange, On Lady Blessington's return to London, and cold, and apparently devoid of all vivacity she seriously turned her thoughts to author and interest in society. People were mistaken in her, and she, perhaps, mistaken in others. ship, as a means of increasing a very dimin Her father's act had led to all these miscon-ished income. First appeared, in The New ceptions, ending in suspicions, animosities, aver- Monthly, her " Conversations with Lord By 99 was The entire novel of "The Repealers written in five weeks; and in a letter to Dr. Madden, dated 4th of March, she says :— When I tell you that I have six hundred pages to write and compose between this and the end of the month for a work, which, unless completed by that period, I forfeit my engagement, you will understand why I cannot read over the story you sent me, and which, I am persuaded, is like all I have seen from your pen-graphic, and full of ron." The papers attracted immense notice, in consequence of the morbid curiosity, then quite an epidemic, to know something or anything of what Byron thought, said, or did.The literary reputation of the Countess was at once established, and from that till her death, novels, tales, reviews, verses, etc., never ceased flowing from her pen, all of the most mediocre nature certainly, but still they brought her an income of about two thousand a year, or more. Not that we are to judge of their merits by that fact. Her ladyship did not write absolute trash certainly on the And yet, withal, year after year, her excontrary, she sometimes uttered very shrewd, common sense opinions; but there was such penditure was more than double her income. Fashionable life and literary notoriety are exa total want of elevation of feeling or depth pensive pleasures, as she found one day to her of thought in all her works, that it was im-cost, when the poor brain, with all its toil, possible to read them with profit, or remem- could no longer meet the expenses of the ber them with interest. She had neither Laand appanages, and decorations. Upon this worthless body with all its necessary luxuries, talent. state of affairs the wise editor remarks: dy Morgan's wit, nor Mrs. Norton's almost agonizing pathos; and if compared with the lady authoresses her contemporaries, must in all things be named the lowest of the list. We speak of her works in the past tense, for they pursuits, or the precariousness of their remuneraLittle was she aware of the nature of literary have probably disappeared from all memories tion, if she imagined that secure and permanent and all libraries; or if they have not, we emolument could be derived from such sources. would recommend them (in Carlyle's phrase) to gather them up with all possible speed, and be off to the dust-bin. A lady of quality who sits down in fashionable life to get a livelihood by literature, or the means of sustaining herself or her position at the hands Something vastly more attractive than pen- of publishers, had better build any other desmanship and authorship were the fascinations cription of castles in the air, however, ethereal that surrounded Lady Blessington, and which the order of architecture may be. made her irresistible grace, beauty, brillian cy, and kindness. Why should a woman with Too true; for does not Carlyle describe these gifts stain her fair hands with ink, and this weird race of publishers as "seated in dim her eyes at midnight with manuscripts? their back-parlor Valhalas, drinking wine out Yet this she did for twenty long years of her of the skulls of authors." Very terrible to life, working, ay, as hard as any factory-girl and the weary daily task ended, then the enthink of! But when the pen was laid aside, at her loom, and for the same reason to I am so constantly and fatiguingly occupied in copying and correcting, that I have not a moment to myself. The support herself -- not only herself, but seven chanted gates were unfolded, and the tired or eight members of her family besides; and toiler over manuscript became transformed in addition, all the poor Irish cousins from into the brilliant idol of a brilliant circle. Clonmel an interminable, exacting, long-Gore House was thrown open to visitors, like Every evening, from ten to half-past twelve, lived, vigorous race, like all Irish cousins, requiring a great deal to keep up their systems. votaries went up nightly to worship. to a temple of Minerva, to which all literary In one of her letters, she says:high priestess takes her position at once, as centre and leader, and all revolve around her, suns, satellites, and stars. Stars there were in plenty. They came, not singly, nor even in binary combination, but in whole systems. A perfect via lactea of literary luminaries flashed through her salons each evening.When I tell you that I have no less than What was this strange, indefinable, subtle, three works passing through the press, and have yet permanent charm which attracted to her to furnish the manuscript to keep the printers at circle every man of note in England, from work for one of them, you may judge of my the great Wellington down to the small annuuneasiness and overwhelming occupation, which alists, and Alaric Watts? Her writings, we leave me time neither for pleasure nor for taking have said, were not beyond mediocrity, and air or exercise enough for health. I am literally her conversation, however gay and sparkling, worn out. I look for release from my literary Again: toils more than ever a slave did from bondage. was yet wholly devoid of real wit or energet I never get out any day before five o'clock I ic power. Compare her with the supreme am suffering in health from too much writing. De Stael, the deep wise Rahel of Germany, the intensely earnest Margaret Fuller, of before the public in literature or society, get not America, and how commonplace and unsatis- unfrequently into the habit of lavishing eulogies, fying, as mental reagents, do all her recorded with a view to repayment in the same coin. The sayings fall upon the ear and heart. Was the queen regnant of a literary circle must at length actress there; she must adapt her flattery, then, that gilded her life, elicited become an manners, her ideas, her conversation, by turns to mainly by the coronet on her escutcheon?those of every individual around her. She must Perhaps so; especially likely, when the coro- be perpetually demonstrating her own attractions net on the brow crowned so much beauty and and attainments, or calling forth those of others. enough of genius to found sonnets on; for She must become a slave to the caprices, envious beauty makes a surprising difference in the re-feelings, contentions, rivalries, selfish aims, ignoception a woman meets with in society, and ble artifices, and exigeants pretensions of literati, the air of superiority she is privileged to as- artistes, and all the notabilities of fashionable sume there: circles. Besides, the wear and tear of literary life leave very unmistakable evidence of their operation on the traits, thoughts, and energies of bookish people. Like the ceaseless efforts of Sisyphus, heels of one another, day after day, tugging with are the pursuits of the literati, treading on the The swinging of the censer before the fair face of Lady Blessington never ceased in those salons; and soft accents of homage to her beauty and talent seldom failed to be whispered in her ear while she sat enthroned in her well-known fauteuil (Willis tells us it was of yellow satin), hold-unremitting toil at one uniform task-to obtain ing high court in queen-like state-the most notoriety, to overcome competition, and having met with some success, to maintain a position at gorgeous Lady Blessington! any cost. Truly, a life of intoxicating excitement, but fatal to all earnestness of thought; talent laid on the salver of publicity, to be breathed upon and dimmed, so as best only to reflect the shows and surfaces of things. Was it wonderful that her literature reflected her life, dealing only with the follies and crimes, or the fashion and glitter of social life; and never descending with searching analysis into the real healthy humanity, such as God created, and meant to be immortal, to seek for noble types and strengthening principles of action? The editor makes some very just remarks on the inevitable tendencies of a nature fed by indiscriminate flatteries; and on the bad effects of a life of literary display upon the mind : It was in Lady Blessington's time that the epidemic of illustrated annuals broke out in England, which raged with considerable flimsiness and platitude for about twenty years. Her ladyship of course became an editress; for, as her biographer asserts, with laudable candor, "she had a great facility for versification, and her verse was quite equal to the ordinary run of bouts rhymees." Besides, a titled editress was indispensable as nurse to the small literary buds of fashion that lisped their pretty twaddle in gilded annuals, while the lady herself loved celebrities and display; and — almost every literary man of eminence in the This occupation brought her into contact with kingdom, or of any foreign country who visited England. But it also involved an enormous exThose to whom the art of pleasing becomes a pense, far beyond any amount of remuneration business daily to be performed, pass from the ex-derived from editing the works. It made a citement of society into exhaustion, languor and ennui, and from this state they are roused to new efforts in the salons by a craving appetite for notice and for praise. Lady Blessington had that fatal gift of pre-eminent attractiveness in society, which has rendered so many clever women distinguished and unhappy. The power of pleasing indiscriminately is never long exercised by women with advantage to the feminine character of their fascinations. necessity for entertaining continually persons to whom she looked for contributions, or from whom she had received assistance. It involved her, moreover, in all the drudgery of authorship, in all the turmoil of contention with publishers, communication with artists, and never-ending correspondence with contributors. In a word, it made her life miserable. The whole system of the annuals was, in fact, The facility of making one's self so universally a speculation based upon personal vanity.agreeable in literary salons, as to be there the Court beauties had their pictures engraved observed of all observers,' becomes in a time fatal with (as Dickens describes) the traditional to naturalness of character and sincerity of mind. back-ground of flower-pots; and then verses Relations with intellectual celebrities must be kept up by constant administrations of cordial were ordered by the editor to suit these por professions of kindness and affection, epistolatory traits. When the mothers of the nobility were and conversational, and frequent interchange of exhausted, the annualists turned to the chilcompliments and encomiums. dren of the nobility, whose portraits came out The praiser and the praised have a nervous with impossible eyes and hair, white frocks, the apprehension of depreciation; and those who live | flower-pot, and a dog. For them verses were |