Musings on Human Frailty
A poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
As autumn drifts ever closer, I find my mood shifting from summer’s joyful optimism to one of gloomy introspection. There’s something profoundly sad about watching the flowers fade and shrivel up on their stalks. The leaves in my yard have already started to fall, and even more have been shed with the strong hurricane winds blowing through the area. To distract myself from what’s going on outside, I decided to write a little about the human condition, and how we use language and creativity to communicate our life experiences. I chose a lesser-known poem to share with you because I was struck by its honesty.
~~~
Lines of Life — Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Well, read my cheek, and watch my eye,
Too strictly school’d are they,
One secret of my soul to show,
One hidden thought betray.
I never knew the time my heart
Look’d freely from my brow;
It once was check’d by timidness,
’Tis taught by caution now.
I live among the cold, the false,
And I must seem like them;
And such I am, for I am false
As those I most condemn.
I teach my lip its sweetest smile,
My tongue its softest tone;
I borrow others’ likeness, till
Almost I lose my own.
I pass through flattery’s gilded sieve,
Whatever I would say;
In social life, all, like the blind,
Must learn to feel their way.
I check my thoughts like curbed steeds
That struggle with the rein;
I bid my feelings sleep, like wrecks
In the unfathom’d main.
I hear them speak of love, the deep,
The true, and mock the name;
Mock at all high and early truth,
And I too do the same.
I hear them tell some touching tale,
I swallow down the tear;
I hear them name some generous deed,
And I have learnt to sneer.
I hear the spiritual, the kind,
The pure, but named in mirth;
Till all of good, ay, even hope,
Seems exiled from our earth.
And one fear, withering ridicule,
Is all that I can dread;
A sword hung by a single hair
Forever o’er head.
We bow to a most servile faith,
In a most servile fear;
While none among us dares to say
What none will choose to hear.
And if we dream of loftier thoughts,
In weakness they are gone;
And indolence and vanity
Rivet our fetters on.
Surely I was not born for this!
I feel a loftier mood
Of generous impulse, high resolve,
Steal o’er my solitude!
I gaze upon the thousand stars
That fill the midnight sky;
And wish, so passionately wish,
A light like theirs on high.
I have such eagerness of hope
To benefit my kind;
And feel as if immortal power
Were given to my mind.
I think on that eternal fame,
The sun of earthly gloom,
Which makes the gloriousness of death,
The future of the tomb—
That earthly future, the faint sign
Of a more heavenly one;
—A step, a word, a voice, a look,—
Alas! my dream is done!
And earth, and earth’s debasing stain,
Again is on my soul;
And I am but a nameless part
Of a most worthless whole.
Why write I this? because my heart
Towards the future springs,
That future where it loves to soar
On more than eagle wings.
The present, it is but a speck
In that eternal time,
In which my lost hopes find a home,
My spirit knows its clime.
Oh! not myself,—for what am I?—
The worthless and the weak,
Whose every thought of self should raise
A blush to burn my cheek.
But song has touch’d my lips with fire,
And made my heart a shrine
For what, although alloy’d, debased,
Is in itself divine.
I am myself but a vile link
Amid life’s weary chain;
But I have spoken hallow’d words,
Oh do not say in vain!
My first, my last, my only wish,
Say will my charmed chords
Wake to the morning light of fame,
And breathe again my words?
Will the young maiden, when her tears
Alone in moonlight shine—
Tears for the absent and the loved—
Murmur some song of mine?
Will the pale youth by his dim lamp,
Himself a dying flame,
From many an antique scroll beside,
Choose that which bears my name?
Let music make less terrible
The silence of the dead;
I care not, so my spirit last
Long after life has fled.
~~~
With these lines of poetry, Letitia Elizabeth Landon was able to make an open confession about her own struggles, while also conveying some universal truths about the human condition. Her frailties include: wearing a mask to hide her true self; fear of vulnerability; looking down on others; hypocrisy and cowardice; the longing for spiritual transcendence; and the desire to be understood and remembered. Landon wrote this poem over two hundred years ago, yet her themes remain relevant because of how easy they are to relate to. She expressed a wish to be immortalized by her words, and while that is certainly the case, her poetry has given us a rare glimpse into her soul. We are able to connect with Landon from beyond the grave because of the writing she has left behind. That to me is worth far more than fame. How many times have you read something and felt comforted when it gave voice to a thought or emotion that you yourself have experienced before? Language is the most powerful way we have of forging meaningful connections with one another.
A theme that I’d like to elaborate upon a bit more is the struggle between our public persona vs. our private identity. As a woman of the early 19th century, Landon faced enormous pressure to be outwardly beautiful, fashionable, and beyond reproach. Hiding one’s imperfections was a necessity if a woman wanted to flourish in society. Rules had to be obeyed, and reputations had to be spotless. This is still very much the case in 2023 – the only difference being the change of venue from one’s local community to an artificially-constructed online forum. In many ways, the pressures of social media are even more intense because it occurs on a global scale. Being seen without makeup or saying the wrong thing in real life is not as world ending as making a mistake online, where nothing is ever forgotten. Celebrities and Instagram “influencers” curate their image by sharing only their most beautiful photos to give us the illusion of a shiny, happy life that is often anything but. My next essay will further explore the feminine struggle for outward perfection, so stay tuned for my review of Mona Lisa Smile and Circle of Friends!
Thank you for this thought-provoking post. So often each of us struggles to be heard and thinks about how we will be remembered, if our art or our words or our deeds have impacted another's life in some meaningful way. We all want immortality because we don't know why or how we are here, I think. But having to hide while we are alive is a tragedy no matter what the era. One of our deepest failures as human beings is judgement and prejudice, causing some people to feel they must hide their true nature. It's amazing, isn't it, that we wear masks of a different kind via the internet, but masks just the same.
These lines were so powerful:
"Will the young maiden, when her tears
Alone in moonlight shine—
Tears for the absent and the loved—
Murmur some song of mine?"
And the ending lines gave me chills. Thanks so much for sharing!
"...where nothing is ever forgotten. Celebrities and Instagram “influencers” curate their image by sharing only their most beautiful photos to give us the illusion of a shiny, happy life that is often anything but."
This transcends celebrities and has sucked up others into a narcissistic vortex of self-bloviating nothingness. Love this post!