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diff --git a/14061-h/14061-h.htm b/14061-h/14061-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cd0cd09 --- /dev/null +++ b/14061-h/14061-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10142 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Lady Byron Vindicated</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Lady Byron Vindicated, by Harriet Beecher Stowe</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Lady Byron Vindicated, by Harriet Beecher +Stowe + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Lady Byron Vindicated + +Author: Harriet Beecher Stowe + +Release Date: November 16, 2004 [eBook #14061] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LADY BYRON VINDICATED*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>This eBook was prepared by Les Bowler.</p> +<h1>LADY BYRON VINDICATED<br /> +BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.</h1> +<p>A history of the Byron Controversy from its beginning in 1816 to +the present time.</p> +<h2>NOTE BY THE PUBLISHERS.</h2> +<p>The subject of this volume is of such painful notoriety that any +apology from the Publishers may seem unnecessary upon issuing the Author’s +reply to the counter statements which her narrative in <i>Macmillan’s +Magazine</i> has called forth. Nevertheless they consider it right +to state that their strong regard for the Author, respect for her motives, +and assurance of her truthfulness, would, even in the absence of all +other considerations, be sufficient to induce them to place their imprint +on the title-page.</p> +<p>The publication has been undertaken by them at the Author’s +request, ‘as her friends,’ and as the publishers of her +former works, and from a feeling that whatever difference of opinion +may be entertained respecting the Author’s judiciousness in publishing +‘The True Story,’ she is entitled to defend it, having been +treated with grave injustice, and often with much maliciousness, by +her critics and opponents, and been charged with motives from which +no person living is more free. An intense love of justice and +hatred of oppression, with an utter disregard of her own interests, +characterise Mrs. Stowe’s conduct and writings, as all who know +her well will testify; and the Publishers can unhesitatingly affirm +their belief that neither fear for loss of her literary fame, nor hope +of gain, has for one moment influenced her in the course she has taken.</p> +<p> LONDON: +January 1870.</p> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> +<p>PART I.</p> +<p>CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION<br /> +CHAPTER II. THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON<br /> +CHAPTER III. RÉSUMÉ OF THE CONSPIRACY<br /> +CHAPTER IV. RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON’S DEATH<br /> +CHAPTER V. THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON’S GRAVE</p> +<p>PART II.</p> +<p>CHAPTER I. LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER<br /> +CHAPTER II. LADY BYRON’S STORY AS TOLD ME<br /> +CHAPTER III. CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS<br /> +CHAPTER IV. THE CHARACTER OF THE TWO WITNESSES COMPARED<br /> +CHAPTER V. THE DIRECT ARGUMENT TO PROVE THE CRIME<br /> +CHAPTER VI. PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT<br /> +CHAPTER VII. HOW COULD SHE LOVE HIM?<br /> +CHAPTER VIII. CONCLUSION</p> +<p>PART III. MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS.</p> +<p>THE TRUE STORY OF LADY BYRON’S LIFE (AS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED +IN ‘THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY’)<br /> +LORD LINDSAY’S LETTER TO ‘THE LONDON TIMES’<br /> +DR. FORBES WINSLOW’S LETTER TO ‘THE LONDON TIMES’<br /> +EXTRACT FROM LORD BYRON’S EXPUNGED LETTER TO MURRAY<br /> +EXTRACTS FROM ‘BLACKWOOD’S MAGAZINE’<br /> +LETTERS OF LADY BYRON TO H. C. ROBINSON<br /> +DOMESTIC POEMS BY LORD BYRON</p> +<h2>PART I.</h2> +<h3>CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION.</h3> +<p>The interval since my publication of ‘The True Story of Lady +Byron’s Life’ has been one of stormy discussion and of much +invective.</p> +<p>I have not thought it necessary to disturb my spirit and confuse +my sense of right by even an attempt at reading the many abusive articles +that both here and in England have followed that disclosure. Friends +have undertaken the task for me, giving me from time to time the substance +of anything really worthy of attention which came to view in the tumult.</p> +<p>It appeared to me essential that this first excitement should in +a measure spend itself before there would be a possibility of speaking +to any purpose. Now, when all would seem to have spoken who can +speak, and, it is to be hoped, have said the utmost they can say, there +seems a propriety in listening calmly, if that be possible, to what +I have to say in reply.</p> +<p>And, first, why have I made this disclosure at all?</p> +<p><i>To this I answer briefly, Because I considered it my duty to make +it.</i></p> +<p>I made it in defence of a beloved, revered friend, whose memory stood +forth in the eyes of the civilised world charged with most repulsive +crimes, of which I <i>certainly</i> knew her innocent.</p> +<p>I claim, and shall prove, that Lady Byron’s reputation has +been the victim of a concerted attack, begun by her husband during her +lifetime, and coming to its climax over her grave. I claim, and +shall prove, that it was not I who stirred up this controversy in this +year 1869. I shall show <i>who did do it</i>, and who is responsible +for bringing on me that hard duty of making these disclosures, which +it appears to me ought to have been made by others.</p> +<p>I claim that these facts were given to me unguarded by any promise +or seal of secrecy, expressed or implied; that they were lodged with +me as one sister rests her story with another for sympathy, for counsel, +for defence. <i>Never</i> did I suppose the day would come that +I should be subjected to so cruel an anguish as this use of them has +been to me. Never did I suppose that,—when those kind hands, +that had shed nothing but blessings, were lying in the helplessness +of death, when that gentle heart, so sorely tried and to the last so +full of love, was lying cold in the tomb,—a countryman in England +could be found to cast the foulest slanders on her grave, and not one +in all England to raise an effective voice in her defence.</p> +<p>I admit the feebleness of my plea, in point of execution. It +was written in a state of exhausted health, when no labour of the kind +was safe for me,—when my hand had not strength to hold the pen, +and I was forced to dictate to another.</p> +<p>I have been told that I have no reason to congratulate myself on +it as a literary effort. O my brothers and sisters! is there then +nothing in the world to think of but literary efforts? I ask any +man with a heart in his bosom, if he had been obliged to tell a story +so cruel, because his mother’s grave gave no rest from slander,—I +ask any woman who had been forced to such a disclosure to free a dead +sister’s name from grossest insults, whether she would have thought +of making this work of bitterness a literary success?</p> +<p>Are the cries of the oppressed, the gasps of the dying, the last +prayers of mothers,—are <i>any</i> words wrung like drops of blood +from the human heart to be judged as literary efforts?</p> +<p>My fellow-countrymen of America, men of the press, I have done you +one act of justice,—of all your bitter articles, I have read not +one. I shall never be troubled in the future time by the remembrance +of any unkind word you have said of me, for at this moment I recollect +not one. I had such faith in you, such pride in my countrymen, +as men with whom, above all others, the cause of woman was safe and +sacred, that I was at first astonished and incredulous at what I heard +of the course of the American press, and was silent, not merely from +the impossibility of being heard, but from grief and shame. But +reflection convinces me that you were, in many cases, acting from a +misunderstanding of facts and through misguided honourable feeling; +and I still feel courage, therefore, to ask from you a fair hearing. +Now, as I have done you this justice, will you also do me the justice +to hear me seriously and candidly?</p> +<p>What interest have you or I, my brother and my sister, in this short +life of ours, to utter anything but the truth? Is not truth between +man and man and between man and woman the foundation on which all things +rest? Have you not, every individual of you, who must hereafter +give an account yourself alone to God, an interest to know the exact +truth in this matter, and a duty to perform as respects that truth? +Hear me, then, while I tell you the position in which I stood, and what +was my course in relation to it.</p> +<p>A shameless attack on my friend’s memory had appeared in the +‘Blackwood’ of July 1869, branding Lady Byron as the vilest +of criminals, and recommending the Guiccioli book to a Christian public +as interesting from the very fact that it was the avowed production +of Lord Byron’s mistress. No efficient protest was made +against this outrage in England, and Littell’s ‘Living Age’ +reprinted the ‘Blackwood’ article, and the Harpers, the +largest publishing house in America, perhaps in the world, re-published +the book.</p> +<p>Its statements—with those of the ‘Blackwood,’ ‘Pall +Mall Gazette,’ and other English periodicals—were being +propagated through all the young reading and writing world of America. +I was meeting them advertised in dailies, and made up into articles +in magazines, and thus the generation of to-day, who had no means of +judging Lady Byron but by these fables of her slanderers, were being +foully deceived. The friends who knew her personally were a small +select circle in England, whom death is every day reducing. They +were few in number compared with the great world, and were <i>silent</i>. +I saw these foul slanders crystallising into history uncontradicted +by friends who knew her personally, who, firm in their own knowledge +of her virtues and limited in view as aristocratic circles generally +are, had no idea of the width of the world they were living in, and +the exigency of the crisis. When time passed on and no voice was +raised, I spoke. I gave at first a simple story, for I knew instinctively +that whoever put the first steel point of truth into this dark cloud +of slander must wait for the storm to spend itself. I must say +the storm exceeded my expectations, and has raged loud and long. +But now that there is a comparative stillness I shall proceed, first, +to prove what I have just been asserting, and, second, to add to my +true story such facts and incidents as I did not think proper at first +to state.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER II. THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON.</h3> +<p>In proving what I asserted in the first chapter, I make four points:</p> +<p>1st. A concerted attack upon Lady Byron’s reputation, +begun by Lord Byron in self-defence.</p> +<p>2nd. That he transmitted his story to friends to be continued +after his death.</p> +<p>3rd. That they did so continue it.</p> +<p>4th. That the accusations reached their climax over Lady Byron’s +grave in ‘Blackwood’ of 1869, and the Guiccioli book, and +that this re-opening of the controversy was my reason for speaking.</p> +<p>And first I shall adduce my proofs that Lady Byron’s reputation +was, during the whole course of her husband’s life, the subject +of a concentrated, artfully planned attack, commencing at the time of +the separation and continuing during his life. By various documents +carefully prepared, and used publicly or secretly as suited the case, +he made converts of many honest men, some of whom were writers and men +of letters, who put their talents at his service during his lifetime +in exciting sympathy for him, and who, by his own request, felt bound +to continue their defence of him after he was dead.</p> +<p>In order to consider the force and significance of the documents +I shall cite, we are to bring to our view just the issues Lord Byron +had to meet, both at the time of the separation and for a long time +after.</p> +<p>In Byron’s ‘Memoirs,’ Vol. IV. Letter 350, under +date December 10, 1819, nearly four years after the separation, he writes +to Murray in a state of great excitement on account of an article in +‘Blackwood,’ in which his conduct towards his wife had been +sternly and justly commented on, and which he supposed to have been +written by Wilson, of the ‘Noctes Ambrosianae.’ He +says in this letter: ‘I like and admire W---n, and he should not +have indulged himself in such outrageous license. . . . . When +he talks of Lady Byron’s business he talks of what he knows nothing +about; and you may tell him <i>no man can desire a public investigation +of that affair more than I do</i>.’ <a name="citation7"></a><a href="#footnote7">{7}</a></p> +<p>He shortly after wrote and sent to Murray a pamphlet for publication, +which was printed, but not generally circulated till some time afterwards. +Though more than three years had elapsed since the separation, the current +against him at this time was so strong in England that his friends thought +it best, at first, to use this article of Lord Byron’s discreetly +with influential persons rather than to give it to the public.</p> +<p>The writer in ‘Blackwood’ and the indignation of the +English public, of which that writer was the voice, were now particularly +stirred up by the appearance of the first two cantos of ‘Don Juan,’ +in which the indecent caricature of Lady Byron was placed in vicinity +with other indecencies, the publication of which was justly considered +an insult to a Christian community.</p> +<p>It must here be mentioned, for the honour of Old England, that at +first she did her duty quite respectably in regard to ‘Don Juan.’ +One can still read, in Murray’s standard edition of the poems, +how every respectable press thundered reprobations, which it would be +well enough to print and circulate as tracts for our days.</p> +<p>Byron, it seems, had thought of returning to England, but he says, +in the letter we have quoted, that he has changed his mind, and shall +not go back, adding ‘I have finished the Third Canto of “Don +Juan,” but the things I have heard and read discourage all future +publication. You may try the copy question, but you’ll lose +it; the cry is up, and the cant is up. I should have no objection +to return the price of the copyright, and have written to Mr. Kinnaird +on this subject.’</p> +<p>One sentence quoted by Lord Byron from the ‘Blackwood’ +article will show the modern readers what the respectable world of that +day were thinking and saying of him:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘It appears, in short, as if this miserable man, +having exhausted every species of sensual gratification—having +drained the cup of sin even to its bitterest dregs—were resolved +to show us that he is no longer a human being even in his frailties, +but a cool, unconcerned fiend, laughing with detestable glee over the +whole of the better and worse elements of which human life is composed.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The defence which Lord Byron makes, in his reply to that paper, is +of a man cornered and fighting for his life. He speaks thus of +the state of feeling at the time of his separation from his wife:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I was accused of every monstrous vice by public +rumour and private rancour; my name, which had been a knightly or a +noble one since my fathers helped to conquer the kingdom for William +the Norman, was tainted. I felt that, if what was whispered and +muttered and murmured was true, I was unfit for England; if false, England +was unfit for me. I withdrew; but this was not enough. In +other countries—in Switzerland, in the shadow of the Alps, and +by the blue depth of the lakes—I was pursued and breathed upon +by the same blight. I crossed the mountains, but it was the same; +so I went a little farther, and settled myself by the waves of the Adriatic, +like the stag at bay, who betakes him to the waters.</p> +<p>‘If I may judge by the statements of the few friends who gathered +round me, the outcry of the period to which I allude was beyond all +precedent, all parallel, even in those cases where political motives +have sharpened slander and doubled enmity. I was advised not to +go to the theatres lest I should be hissed, nor to my duty in parliament +lest I should be insulted by the way; even on the day of my departure +my most intimate friend told me afterwards that he was under the apprehension +of violence from the people who might be assembled at the door of the +carriage.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Now Lord Byron’s charge against his wife was that SHE was directly +responsible for getting up and keeping up this persecution, which drove +him from England,—that she did it in a deceitful, treacherous +manner, which left him no chance of defending himself.</p> +<p>He charged against her that, taking advantage of a time when his +affairs were in confusion, and an execution in the house, she left him +suddenly, with treacherous professions of kindness, which were repeated +by letters on the road, and that soon after her arrival at her home +her parents sent him word that she would never return to him, and she +confirmed the message; that when he asked the reason why, she refused +to state any; and that when this step gave rise to a host of slanders +against him she silently encouraged and confirmed the slanders. +His claim was that he was denied from that time forth even the justice +of any tangible accusation against himself which he might meet and refute.</p> +<p>He observes, in the same article from which we have quoted:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘When one tells me that I cannot “in any +way justify my own behaviour in that affair,” I acquiesce, because +no man can “justify” himself until he knows of what he is +accused; and I have never had—and, God knows, my whole desire +has ever been to obtain it—any specific charge, in a tangible +shape, submitted to me by the adversary, nor by others, unless the atrocities +of public rumour and the mysterious silence of the lady’s legal +advisers may be deemed such.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Lord Byron, his publishers, friends, and biographers, thus agree +in representing his wife as the secret author and abettor of that persecution, +which it is claimed broke up his life, and was the source of all his +subsequent crimes and excesses.</p> +<p>Lord Byron wrote a poem in September 1816, in Switzerland, just after +the separation, in which he stated, in so many words, these accusations +against his wife. Shortly after the poet’s death Murray +published this poem, together with the ‘Fare thee well,’ +and the lines to his sister, under the title of ‘Domestic Pieces,’ +in his standard edition of Byron’s poetry. It is to be remarked, +then, that this was for some time a private document, shown to confidential +friends, and made use of judiciously, as readers or listeners to his +story were able to bear it. Lady Byron then had a strong party +in England. Sir Samuel Romilly and Dr. Lushington were her counsel. +Lady Byron’s parents were living, and the appearance in the public +prints of such a piece as this would have brought down an aggravated +storm of public indignation.</p> +<p>For the general public such documents as the ‘Fare thee well’ +were circulating in England, and he frankly confessed his wife’s +virtues and his own sins to Madame de Staël and others in Switzerland, +declaring himself in the wrong, sensible of his errors, and longing +to cast himself at the feet of that serene perfection,</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Which wanted one sweet weakness—to forgive.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But a little later he drew for his private partisans this bitter +poetical indictment against her, which, as we have said, was used discreetly +during his life, and published after his death.</p> +<p>Before we proceed to lay that poem before the reader we will refresh +his memory with some particulars of the tragedy of Æschylus, which +Lord Byron selected as the exact parallel and proper illustration of +his wife’s treatment of himself. In his letters and journals +he often alludes to her as Clytemnestra, and the allusion has run the +round of a thousand American papers lately, and been read by a thousand +good honest people, who had no very clear idea who Clytemnestra was, +and what she did which was like the proceedings of Lady Byron. +According to the tragedy, Clytemnestra secretly hates her husband Agamemnon, +whom she professes to love, and wishes to put him out of the way that +she may marry her lover, Ægistheus. When her husband returns +from the Trojan war she receives him with pretended kindness, and officiously +offers to serve him at the bath. Inducing him to put on a garment, +of which she had adroitly sewed up the sleeves and neck so as to hamper +the use of his arms, she gives the signal to a concealed band of assassins, +who rush upon him and stab him. Clytemnestra is represented by +Æschylus as grimly triumphing in her success, which leaves her +free to marry an adulterous paramour.</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I did it, too, in such a cunning wise,<br /> +That he could neither ’scape nor ward off doom.<br /> +I staked around his steps an endless net,<br /> +As for the fishes.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In the piece entitled ‘Lines on hearing Lady Byron is ill,’ +Lord Byron charges on his wife a similar treachery and cruelty. +The whole poem is in Murray’s English edition, Vol. IV. p. 207. +Of it we quote the following. The reader will bear in mind that +it is addressed to Lady Byron on a sick-bed:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I am too well avenged, but ’t was my right;<br /> +Whate’er my sins might be, thou wert not sent<br /> +To be the Nemesis that should requite,<br /> +Nor did Heaven choose so near an instrument.<br /> +Mercy is for the merciful! If thou<br /> +Hast been of such, ’t will be accorded now.<br /> +Thy nights are banished from the realms of sleep,<br /> +For thou art pillowed on a curse too deep;<br /> +Yes! they may flatter thee, but thou shalt feel<br /> +A hollow agony that will not heal.<br /> +Thou hast sown in my sorrow, and must reap<br /> +The bitter harvest in a woe as real.<br /> +I have had many foes, but none like thee;<br /> +For ’gainst the rest myself I could defend,<br /> +And be avenged, or turn them into friend;<br /> +But thou, in safe implacability,<br /> +Hast naught to dread,—in thy own weakness shielded,<br /> +And in my love, which hath but too much yielded,<br /> +And spared, for thy sake, some I should not spare.<br /> +And thus upon the world, trust in thy truth,<br /> +And the wild fame of my ungoverned youth,—<br /> +On things that were not and on things that are,—<br /> +Even upon such a basis thou halt built<br /> +A monument whose cement hath been guilt!<br /> +The moral Clytemnestra of thy lord,<br /> +And hewed down with an unsuspected sword<br /> +Fame, peace, and hope, and all that better life<br /> +Which, but for this cold treason of thy heart,<br /> +Might yet have risen from the grave of strife<br /> +And found a nobler duty than to part.<br /> +But of thy virtues thou didst make a vice,<br /> +Trafficking in them with a purpose cold,<br /> +And buying others’ woes at any price,<br /> +For present anger and for future gold;<br /> +And thus, once entered into crooked ways,<br /> +The early truth, that was thy proper praise,<br /> +Did not still walk beside thee, but at times,<br /> +And with a breast unknowing its own crimes,<br /> +Deceits, averments incompatible,<br /> +Equivocations, and the thoughts that dwell<br /> +In Janus spirits, the significant eye<br /> +That learns to lie with silence, <a name="citation14"></a><a href="#footnote14">{14}</a> +the pretext<br /> +Of prudence with advantages annexed,<br /> +The acquiescence in all things that tend,<br /> +No matter how, to the desired end,—<br /> +All found a place in thy philosophy.<br /> +The means were worthy and the end is won.<br /> +I would not do to thee as thou hast done.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Now, if this language means anything, it means, in plain terms, that, +whereas, in her early days, Lady Byron was peculiarly characterised +by truthfulness, she has in her recent dealings with him acted the part +of a liar,—that she is not only a liar, but that she lies for +cruel means and malignant purposes,—that she is a moral assassin, +and her treatment of her husband has been like that of the most detestable +murderess and adulteress of ancient history, that she has learned to +lie skilfully and artfully, that she equivocates, says incompatible +things, and crosses her own tracks,—that she is double-faced, +and has the art to lie even by silence, and that she has become wholly +unscrupulous, and acquiesces in <i>any</i>thing, no matter what, that +tends to the desired end, and that end the destruction of her husband. +This is a brief summary of the story that Byron made it his life’s +business to spread through society, to propagate and make converts to +during his life, and which has been in substance reasserted by ‘Blackwood’ +in a recent article this year.</p> +<p>Now, the reader will please to notice that this poem is dated in +September 1816, and that on the 29th of March of that same year, he +had thought proper to tell quite another story. At that time the +deed of separation was not signed, and negotiations between Lady Byron, +acting by legal counsel, and himself were still pending. At that +time, therefore, he was standing in a community who knew all he had +said in former days of his wife’s character, who were in an aroused +and excited state by the fact that so lovely and good and patient a +woman had actually been forced for some unexplained cause to leave him. +His policy at that time was to make large general confessions of sin, +and to praise and compliment her, with a view of enlisting sympathy. +Everybody feels for a handsome sinner, weeping on his knees, asking +pardon for his offences against his wife in the public newspapers.</p> +<p>The celebrated ‘Fare thee well,’ as we are told, was +written on the 17th of March, and accidentally found its way into the +newspapers at this time ‘through the imprudence of a friend whom +he allowed to take a copy.’ These ‘imprudent friends’ +have all along been such a marvellous convenience to Lord Byron.</p> +<p>But the question met him on all sides, What is the matter? +This wife you have declared the brightest, sweetest, most amiable of +beings, and against whose behaviour as a wife you actually never had +nor can have a complaint to make,—why is she <i>now</i> all of +a sudden so inflexibly set against you?</p> +<p>This question required an answer, and he answered by writing another +poem, which also <i>accidentally</i> found its way into the public prints. +It is in his ‘Domestic Pieces,’ which the reader may refer +to at the end of this volume, and is called ‘A Sketch.’</p> +<p>There was a most excellent, respectable, well-behaved Englishwoman, +a Mrs. Clermont, <a name="citation16"></a><a href="#footnote16">{16}</a> +who had been Lady Byron’s governess in her youth, and was still, +in mature life, revered as her confidential friend. It appears +that this person had been with Lady Byron during a part of her married +life, especially the bitter hours of her lonely child-bed, when a young +wife so much needs a sympathetic friend. This Mrs. Clermont was +the person selected by Lord Byron at this time to be the scapegoat to +bear away the difficulties of the case into the wilderness.</p> +<p>We are informed in Moore’s Life what a noble pride of rank +Lord Byron possessed, and how when the headmaster of a school, against +whom he had a pique, invited him to dinner, he declined, saying, ‘To +tell you the truth, Doctor, if you should come to Newstead, I shouldn’t +think of inviting <i>you</i> to dine with <i>me</i>, and so I don’t +care to dine with you here.’ Different countries, it appears, +have different standards as to good taste; Moore gives this as an amusing +instance of a young lord’s spirit.</p> +<p>Accordingly, his first attack against this ‘lady,’ as +we Americans should call her, consists in gross statements concerning +her having been born poor and in an inferior rank. He begins by +stating that she was</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred,<br /> +Promoted thence to deck her mistress’ head;<br /> +Next—for some gracious service unexpressed<br /> +And from its wages only to be guessed—<br /> +Raised from the toilet to the table, where<br /> +Her wondering betters wait behind her chair.<br /> +With eye unmoved and forehead unabashed,<br /> +She dines from off the plate she lately washed:<br /> +Quick with the tale, and ready with the lie,<br /> +The genial confidante and general spy,—<br /> +Who could, ye gods! her next employment guess,—<br /> +An only infant’s earliest governess!<br /> +What had she made the pupil of her art<br /> +None knows; but that high soul secured the heart,<br /> +And panted for the truth it could not hear<br /> +With longing soul and undeluded ear!’ <a name="citation17"></a><a href="#footnote17">{17}</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>The poet here recognises as a singular trait in Lady Byron her peculiar +love of truth,—a trait which must have struck everyone that had +any knowledge of her through life. He goes on now to give what +he certainly knew to be the real character of Lady Byron:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Foiled was perversion by that youthful mind,<br /> +Which flattery fooled not, baseness could not blind,<br /> +Deceit infect not, nor contagion soil,<br /> +Indulgence weaken, or example spoil,<br /> +Nor mastered science tempt her to look down<br /> +On humbler talent with a pitying frown,<br /> +Nor genius swell, nor beauty render vain,<br /> +Nor envy ruffle to retaliate pain.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We are now informed that Mrs. Clermont, whom he afterwards says in +his letters was a spy of Lady Byron’s mother, set herself to make +mischief between them. He says:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘If early habits,—those strong links that +bind<br /> + At times the loftiest to the meanest mind,<br /> + Have given her power too deeply to instil<br /> + The angry essence of her deadly will;<br /> + If like a snake she steal within your walls,<br /> + Till the black slime betray her as she crawls;<br /> + If like a viper to the heart she wind,<br /> + And leaves the venom there she did not find,—<br /> + What marvel that this hag of hatred works<br /> + Eternal evil latent as she lurks.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The noble lord then proceeds to abuse this woman of inferior rank +in the language of the upper circles. He thus describes her person +and manner:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Skilled by a touch to deepen scandal’s tints<br /> + With all the kind mendacity of hints,<br /> + While mingling truth with falsehood, sneers with smiles,<br /> + A thread of candour with a web of wiles;<br /> + A plain blunt show of briefly-spoken seeming,<br /> + To hide her bloodless heart’s soul-harden’d scheming;<br /> + A lip of lies; a face formed to conceal,<br /> + And without feeling mock at all who feel;<br /> + With a vile mask the Gorgon would disown,—<br /> + A cheek of parchment and an eye of stone.<br /> + Mark how the channels of her yellow blood<br /> + Ooze to her skin and stagnate there to mud,<br /> + Cased like the centipede in saffron mail,<br /> + Or darker greenness of the scorpion’s scale,—<br /> + (For drawn from reptiles only may we trace<br /> + Congenial colours in that soul or face,)<br /> + Look on her features! and behold her mind<br /> + As in a mirror of itself defined:<br /> + Look on the picture! deem it not o’ercharged<br /> + There is no trait which might not be enlarged.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The poem thus ends:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘May the strong curse of crushed affections light<br /> +Back on thy bosom with reflected blight,<br /> +And make thee in thy leprosy of mind<br /> +As loathsome to thyself as to mankind!<br /> +Till all thy self-thoughts curdle into hate,<br /> +Black—as thy will for others would create;<br /> +Till thy hard heart be calcined into dust,<br /> +And thy soul welter in its hideous crust.<br /> +O, may thy grave be sleepless as the bed,<br /> +The widowed couch of fire, that thou hast spread<br /> +Then when thou fain wouldst weary Heaven with prayer,<br /> +Look on thy earthly victims—and despair!<br /> +Down to the dust! and as thou rott’st away,<br /> +Even worms shall perish on thy poisonous clay.<br /> +But for the love I bore and still must bear<br /> +To her thy malice from all ties would tear,<br /> +Thy name,—thy human name,—to every eye<br /> +The climax of all scorn, should hang on high,<br /> +Exalted o’er thy less abhorred compeers,<br /> +And festering in the infamy of years.’<br /> + March 16, 1816.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Now, on the 29th of March 1816, this was Lord Byron’s story. +He states that his wife had a truthfulness even from early girlhood +that the most artful and unscrupulous governess could not pollute,—that +she always <i>panted</i> for truth,—that flattery could not fool +nor baseness blind her,—that though she was a genius and master +of science, she was yet gentle and tolerant, and one whom no envy could +ruffle to retaliate pain.</p> +<p>In September of the same year she is a monster of unscrupulous deceit +and vindictive cruelty. Now, what had happened in the five months +between the dates of these poems to produce such a change of opinion? +Simply this:—</p> +<p>1st. The negotiation between him and his wife’s lawyers +had ended in his signing a deed of separation in preference to standing +a suit for divorce.</p> +<p>2nd. Madame de Staël, moved by his tears of anguish and +professions of repentance, had offered to negotiate with Lady Byron +on his behalf, and had failed.</p> +<p>The failure of this application is the only apology given by Moore +and Murray for this poem, which gentle Thomas Moore admits was not in +quite as generous a strain as the ‘Fare thee well.’</p> +<p>But Lord Byron knew perfectly well, when he suffered that application +to be made, that Lady Byron had been entirely convinced that her marriage +relations with him could never be renewed, and that duty both to man +and God required her to separate from him. The allowing the negotiation +was, therefore, an artifice to place his wife before the public in the +attitude of a hard-hearted, inflexible woman; her refusal was what he +knew beforehand must inevitably be the result, and merely gave him capital +in the sympathy of his friends, by which they should be brought to tolerate +and accept the bitter accusations of this poem.</p> +<p>We have recently heard it asserted that this last-named piece of +poetry was the sudden offspring of a fit of ill-temper, and was never +intended to be published at all. There were certainly excellent +reasons why his friends should have advised him not to publish it <i>at +that time</i>. But that it was read with sympathy by the circle +of his intimate friends, and believed by them, is evident from the frequency +with which allusions to it occur in his confidential letters to them. +<a name="citation21"></a><a href="#footnote21">{21}</a></p> +<p>About three months after, under date March 10, 1817, he writes to +Moore: ‘I suppose now I shall never be able to shake off my sables +in public imagination, more particularly since my moral ----- clove +down my fame.’ Again to Murray in 1819, three years after, +he says: ‘I never hear anything of Ada, the little Electra of +Mycenae.’</p> +<p>Electra was the daughter of Clytemnestra, in the Greek poem, who +lived to condemn her wicked mother, and to call on her brother to avenge +the father. There was in this mention of Electra more than meets +the ear. Many passages in Lord Byron’s poetry show that +he intended to make this daughter a future partisan against her mother, +and explain the awful words he is stated in Lady Anne Barnard’s +diary to have used when first he looked on his little girl,—‘What +an instrument of torture I have gained in you!’</p> +<p>In a letter to Lord Blessington, April 6, 1823, he says, speaking +of Dr. Parr:— <a name="citation22a"></a><a href="#footnote22a">{22a}</a></p> +<blockquote><p>‘He did me the honour once to be a patron of mine, +though a great friend of the other branch of the house of Atreus, and +the Greek teacher, I believe, of my moral Clytemnestra. I say +moral because it is true, and is so useful to the virtuous, that it +enables them to do anything without the aid of an Ægistheus.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>If Lord Byron wrote this poem merely in a momentary fit of spleen, +why were there so many persons evidently quite familiar with his allusions +to it? and why was it preserved in Murray’s hands? and why published +after his death? That Byron was in the habit of reposing documents +in the hands of Murray, to be used as occasion offered, is evident from +a part of a note written by him to Murray respecting some verses so +intrusted: ‘Pray let not these <i>versiculi</i> go forth with +my name except <i>to the initiated</i>.’ <a name="citation22b"></a><a href="#footnote22b">{22b}</a></p> +<p>Murray, in publishing this attack on his wife after Lord Byron’s +death, showed that he believed in it, and, so believing, deemed Lady +Byron a woman whose widowed state deserved neither sympathy nor delicacy +of treatment. At a time when every sentiment in the heart of the +most deeply wronged woman would forbid her appearing to justify herself +from such cruel slander of a dead husband, an honest, kind-hearted, +worthy Englishman actually thought it right and proper to give these +lines to her eyes and the eyes of all the reading world. Nothing +can show more plainly what this poem was written for, and how thoroughly +it did its work! Considering Byron as a wronged man, Murray thought +he was contributing his mite towards doing him justice. His editor +prefaced the whole set of ‘Domestic Pieces’ with the following +statements:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘They all refer to the unhappy separation, of which +the precise causes are still a mystery, and which he declared to the +last were never disclosed to himself. He admitted that pecuniary +embarrassments, disordered health, and dislike to family restraints +had aggravated his naturally violent temper, and driven him to excesses. +He suspected that his mother-in-law had fomented the discord,—which +Lady Byron denies,—and that more was due to the malignant offices +of a female dependant, who is the subject of the bitterly satirical +sketch.</p> +<p>* * +* *</p> +<p>‘To these general statements can only be added the still vaguer +allegations of Lady Byron, that she conceived his conduct to be the +result of insanity,—that, the physician pronouncing him responsible +for his actions, she could submit to them no longer, and that Dr. Lushington, +her legal adviser, agreed that a reconciliation was neither proper nor +possible. No weight can be attached to the opinions of an opposing +counsel upon accusations made by one party behind the back of the other, +who urgently demanded and was pertinaciously refused the least opportunity +of denial or defence. He rejected the proposal for an amicable +separation, but consented when threatened with a suit in Doctors’ +Commons.’ <a name="citation23"></a><a href="#footnote23">{23}</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Neither John Murray nor any of Byron’s partisans seem to have +pondered the admission in these last words.</p> +<p>Here, as appears, was a woman, driven to the last despair, standing +with her child in her arms, asking from English laws protection for +herself and child against her husband.</p> +<p>She had appealed to the first counsel in England, and was acting +under their direction.</p> +<p>Two of the greatest lawyers in England have pronounced that there +has been such a cause of offence on his part that a return to him is +neither proper nor possible, and that no alternative remains to her +but separation or divorce.</p> +<p>He asks her to state her charges against him. She, making answer +under advice of her counsel, says, ‘That if he <i>insists</i> +on the specifications, he must receive them in open court in a suit +for divorce.’</p> +<p>What, now, ought to have been the conduct of any brave, honest man, +who believed that his wife was taking advantage of her reputation for +virtue to turn every one against him, who saw that she had turned on +her side even the lawyer he sought to retain on his; <a name="citation24"></a><a href="#footnote24">{24}</a> +that she was an unscrupulous woman, who acquiesced in every and any +thing to gain her ends, while he stood before the public, as he says, +‘accused of every monstrous vice, by public rumour or private +rancour’? When she, under advice of her lawyers, made the +alternative legal <i>separation</i> or open investigation in court for +divorce, what did he do?</p> +<p>HE SIGNED THE ACT OF SEPARATION AND LEFT ENGLAND.</p> +<p>Now, let any man who knows the legal mind of England,—let any +lawyer who knows the character of Sir Samuel Romilly and Dr. Lushington, +ask whether <i>they</i> were the men to take a case into court for a +woman that had no <i>evidence</i> but her own statements and impressions? +Were <i>they</i> men to go to trial without proofs? Did they not +know that there were artful, hysterical women in the world, and would +<i>they</i>, of all people, be the men to take a woman’s story +on her own side, and advise her in the last issue to bring it into open +court, without legal proof of the strongest kind? Now, as long +as Sir Samuel Romilly lived, this statement of Byron’s—that +he was condemned unheard, and had no chance of knowing whereof he <i>was +accused—never appeared in public</i>.</p> +<p>It, however, was most actively circulated in <i>private</i>. +That Byron was in the habit of intrusting to different confidants articles +of various kinds to be shown to different circles as they could bear +them, we have already shown. We have recently come upon another +instance of this kind. In the late eagerness to exculpate Byron, +a new document has turned up, of which Mr. Murray, it appears, had never +heard when, after Byron’s death, he published in the preface to +his ‘Domestic Pieces’ the sentence: <i>‘He rejected +the proposal for an amicable separation, but consented when threatened +with a suit in Doctors’ Commons</i>.’ It appears that, +up to 1853, neither John Murray senior, nor the son who now fills his +place, had taken any notice of this newly found document, which we are +now informed was drawn up by Lord Byron in August 1817, while Mr. Hobhouse +was staying with him at La Mira, near Venice, given to Mr. Matthew Gregory +Lewis, <i>for circulation among friends in England</i>, found in Mr. +Lewis’s papers after his death, and <i>now</i> in the possession +of Mr. Murray.’ Here it is:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘It has been intimated to me that the persons understood +to be the legal advisers of Lady Byron have declared “their lips +to be sealed up” on the cause of the separation between her and +myself. If their lips are sealed up, they are not sealed up by +me, and the greatest favour they can confer upon me will be to open +them. From the first hour in which I was apprised of the intentions +of the Noel family to the last communication between Lady Byron and +myself in the character of wife and husband (a period of some months), +I called repeatedly and in vain for a statement of their or her charges, +and it was chiefly in consequence of Lady Byron’s claiming (in +a letter still existing) a promise on my part to consent to a separation, +if such was really her wish, that I consented at all; this claim, and +the exasperating and inexpiable manner in which their object was pursued, +which rendered it next to an impossibility that two persons so divided +could ever be reunited, induced me reluctantly then, and repentantly +still, to sign the deed, which I shall be happy—most happy—to +cancel, and go before any tribunal which may discuss the business in +the most public manner.</p> +<p>‘Mr. Hobhouse made this proposition on my part, viz. to abrogate +all prior intentions—and go into court—the very day before +the separation was signed, and it was declined by the other party, as +also the publication of the correspondence during the previous discussion. +Those propositions I beg here to repeat, and to call upon her and hers +to say their worst, pledging myself to meet their allegations,—whatever +they may be,—and only too happy to be informed at last of their +real nature.</p> +<p>‘BYRON.’</p> +<p>‘August 9, 1817.</p> +<p>‘P.S.—I have been, and am now, utterly ignorant of what +description her allegations, charges, or whatever name they may have +assumed, are; and am as little aware for what purpose they have been +kept back,—unless it was to sanction the most infamous calumnies +by silence.</p> +<p>‘BYRON.’</p> +<p>‘La Mira, near Venice.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It appears the circulation of this document must have been <i>very +private</i>, since Moore, not <i>over</i>-delicate towards Lady Byron, +did not think fit to print it; since John Murray neglected it, and since +it has come out at this late hour for the first time.</p> +<p>If Lord Byron really desired Lady Byron and her legal counsel to +understand the facts herein stated, and was willing at all hazards to +bring on an open examination, why was this <i>privately</i> circulated? +Why not issued as a card in the London papers? Is it likely that +Mr. Matthew Gregory Lewis, and a chosen band of friends acting as a +committee, requested an audience with Lady Byron, Sir Samuel Romilly, +and Dr. Lushington, and formally presented this cartel of defiance?</p> +<p>We incline to think not. We incline to think that this small +serpent, in company with many others of like kind, crawled secretly +and privately around, and when it found a good chance, bit an honest +Briton, whose blood was thenceforth poisoned by an undetected falsehood.</p> +<p>The reader now may turn to the letters that Mr. Moore has thought +fit to give us of this stay at La Mira, beginning with Letter 286, dated +July 1, 1817, <a name="citation28a"></a><a href="#footnote28a">{28a}</a> +where he says: ‘I have been working up my impressions into a <i>Fourth</i> +Canto of Childe Harold,’ and also ‘Mr. Lewis is in Venice. +I am going up to stay a week with him there.’</p> +<p>Next, under date La Mira, Venice, July 10, <a name="citation28b"></a><a href="#footnote28b">{28b}</a> +he says, ‘Monk Lewis is here; how pleasant!’</p> +<p>Next, under date July 20, 1817, to Mr. Murray: ‘I write to +give you notice that I have <i>completed the fourth and ultimate canto +of Childe Harold</i>. . . . It is yet to be copied and polished, +and the notes are to come.’</p> +<p>Under date of La Mira, August 7, 1817, he records that the new canto +is one hundred and thirty stanzas in length, and talks about the price +for it. He is now ready to launch it on the world; and, as now +appears, on August 9, 1817, <i>two days after</i>, he wrote the document +above cited, and put it into the hands of Mr. Lewis, as we are informed, +‘for circulation among friends in England.’</p> +<p>The reason of this may now be evident. Having prepared a suitable +number of those whom he calls in his notes to Murray ‘the initiated,’ +by private documents and statements, he is now prepared to publish his +accusations against his wife, and the story of his wrongs, in a great +immortal poem, which shall have a band of initiated interpreters, shall +be read through the civilised world, and stand to accuse her after his +death.</p> +<p>In the Fourth Canto of ‘Childe Harold,’ with all his +own overwhelming power of language, he sets forth his cause as against +the silent woman who all this time had been making no party, and telling +no story, and whom the world would therefore conclude to be silent because +she had no answer to make. I remember well the time when this +poetry, so resounding in its music, so mournful, so apparently generous, +filled my heart with a vague anguish of sorrow for the sufferer, and +of indignation at the cold insensibility that had maddened him. +Thousands have felt the power of this great poem, which stands, and +must stand to all time, a monument of what sacred and solemn powers +God gave to this wicked man, and how vilely he abused this power as +a weapon to slay the innocent.</p> +<p>It is among the ruins of ancient Rome that his voice breaks forth +in solemn imprecation:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘O Time, thou beautifier of the dead,<br /> +Adorner of the ruin, comforter,<br /> +And only healer when the heart hath bled!—<br /> +Time, the corrector when our judgments err,<br /> +The test of truth, love,—sole philosopher,<br /> +For all besides are sophists,—from thy shrift<br /> +That never loses, though it doth defer!—<br /> +Time, the avenger! unto thee I lift<br /> +My hands and heart and eyes, and claim of thee a gift.</p> +<p>* * +* *</p> +<p>‘If thou hast ever seen me too elate,<br /> +Hear me not; but if calmly I have borne<br /> +Good, and reserved my pride against the hate<br /> +Which shall not whelm me, let me not have worn<br /> +This iron in my soul in vain, shall THEY not mourn?<br /> +And thou who never yet of human wrong<br /> +Left the unbalanced scale, great Nemesis,<br /> +Here where the ancients paid their worship long,<br /> +Thou who didst call the Furies from the abyss,<br /> +And round Orestes bid them howl and hiss<br /> +For that unnatural retribution,—just<br /> +Had it but come from hands less near,—in this<br /> +Thy former realm I call thee from the dust.<br /> +Dost thou not hear, my heart? awake thou shalt and must!<br /> +It is not that I may not have incurred<br /> +For my ancestral faults and mine, the wound<br /> +Wherewith I bleed withal, and had it been conferred<br /> +With a just weapon it had flowed unbound,<br /> +But now my blood shall not sink in the ground.</p> +<p>* * +* *</p> +<p>‘But in this page a record will I seek;<br /> +Not in the air shall these my words disperse,<br /> +Though I be ashes,—a far hour shall wreak<br /> +The deep prophetic fulness of this verse,<br /> +And pile on human heads the mountain of my curse.<br /> +That curse shall be forgiveness. Have I not,—<br /> +Hear me, my Mother Earth! behold it, Heaven,—<br /> +Have I not had to wrestle with my lot?<br /> +Have I not suffered things to be forgiven?<br /> +Have I not had my brain seared, my heart riven,<br /> +Hopes sapped, name blighted, life’s life lied away,<br /> +And only not to desperation driven,<br /> +Because not altogether of such clay<br /> +As rots into the soul of those whom I survey?</p> +<p>----------</p> +<p>‘From mighty wrongs to petty perfidy,<br /> +Have I not seen what human things could do,—<br /> +From the loud roar of foaming calumny,<br /> +To the small whispers of the paltry few,<br /> +And subtler venom of the reptile crew,<br /> +The Janus glance of whose significant eye,<br /> +Learning to lie with silence, would seem true,<br /> +And without utterance, save the shrug or sigh,<br /> +Deal round to happy fools its speechless obloquy?’ <a name="citation31"></a><a href="#footnote31">{31}</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>The reader will please notice that the lines in italics are almost, +word for word, a repetition of the lines in italics in the former poem +on his wife, where he speaks of a<i> significant eye</i> that has <i>learned +to lie in silence</i>, and were evidently meant to apply to Lady Byron +and her small circle of confidential friends.</p> +<p>Before this, in the Third Canto of ‘Childe Harold,’ he +had claimed the sympathy of the world, as a loving father, deprived +by a severe fate of the solace and society of his only child:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘My daughter,—with this name my song began,—<br /> +My daughter,—with this name my song shall end,—<br /> +I see thee not and hear thee not, but none<br /> +Can be so wrapped in thee; thou art the friend<br /> +To whom the shadows of far years extend.</p> +<p>* * +* *</p> +<p>‘To aid thy mind’s developments, to watch<br /> +The dawn of little joys, to sit and see<br /> +Almost thy very growth, to view thee catch<br /> +Knowledge of objects,—wonders yet to thee,—<br /> +And print on thy soft cheek a parent’s kiss;—<br /> +This it should seem was not reserved for me.<br /> +Yet this was in my nature,—as it is,<br /> +I know not what there is, yet something like to this.</p> +<p>----------</p> +<p>‘Yet though dull hate as duty should be taught,<br /> +I know that thou wilt love me; though my name<br /> +Should be shut out from thee as spell still fraught<br /> +With desolation and a broken claim,<br /> +Though the grave close between us,—’t were the same<br /> +I know that thou wilt love me, though to drain<br /> +My blood from out thy being were an aim<br /> +And an attainment,—all will be in vain.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>To all these charges against her, sent all over the world in verses +as eloquent as the English language is capable of, the wife replied +nothing.</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Assailed by slander and the tongue of strife,<br /> +Her only answer was,—a blameless life.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>She had a few friends, a very few, with whom she sought solace and +sympathy. One letter from her, written at this time, preserved +by accident, is the only authentic record of how the matter stood with +her.</p> +<p>We regret to say that the publication of this document was not brought +forth to clear Lady Byron’s name from her husband’s slanders, +but to shield <i>him</i> from the worst accusation against him, by showing +that this crime was not included in the few private confidential revelations +that friendship wrung from the young wife at this period.</p> +<p>Lady Anne Barnard, authoress of ‘Auld Robin Grey,’ a +friend whose age and experience made her a proper confidante, sent for +the broken-hearted, perplexed wife, and offered her a woman’s +sympathy.</p> +<p>To her Lady Byron wrote many letters, under seal of confidence, and +Lady Anne says: ‘I will give you a few paragraphs transcribed +from one of Lady Byron’s own letters to me. It is sorrowful +to think that in a very little time this young and amiable creature, +wise, patient, and feeling, will have her character mistaken by every +one who reads Byron’s works. To rescue her from this I preserved +her letters, and when she afterwards expressed a fear that anything +of her writing should ever fall into hands to injure him (I suppose +she meant by publication), I safely assured her that it never should. +But here this letter shall be placed, a sacred record in her favour, +unknown to herself.</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I am a very incompetent judge of the impression +which the last Canto of “Childe Harold” may produce on the +minds of indifferent readers.</p> +<p>‘It contains the usual trace of a conscience restlessly awake, +though his object has been too long to aggravate its burden, as if it +could thus be oppressed into eternal stupor. I will hope, as you +do, that it survives for his ultimate good.</p> +<p>‘It was the acuteness of his remorse, impenitent in its character, +which so long seemed to demand from my compassion to spare every semblance +of reproach, every look of grief, which might have said to his conscience, +“You have made me wretched.”</p> +<p>‘I am decidedly of opinion that he is responsible. He +has wished to be thought partially deranged, or on the brink of it, +to perplex observers and prevent them from tracing effects to their +real causes through all the intricacies of his conduct. I was, +as I told you, at one time the dupe of his acted insanity, and clung +to the former delusions in regard to the motives that concerned me personally, +till the whole system was laid bare.</p> +<p>‘He is the absolute monarch of words, and uses them, as Bonaparte +did lives, for conquest, without more regard to their intrinsic value, +considering them only as ciphers, which must derive all their import +from the situation in which he places them, and the ends to which he +adapts them, with such consummate skill.</p> +<p>‘Why, then, you will say, does he not employ them to give a +better colour to his own character? Because he is too good an +actor to over-act, or to assume a moral garb, which it would be easy +to strip off.</p> +<p>‘In regard to his poetry, egotism is the vital principle of +his imagination, which it is difficult for him to kindle on any subject +with which his own character and interests are not identified; but by +the introduction of fictitious incidents, by change of scene or time, +he has enveloped his poetical disclosures in a system impenetrable except +to a very few; and his constant desire of creating a sensation makes +him not averse to be the object of wonder and curiosity, even though +accompanied by some dark and vague suspicions.</p> +<p>‘Nothing has contributed more to the misunderstanding of his +real character than the lonely grandeur in which he shrouds it, and +his affectation of being above mankind, when he exists almost in their +voice. The romance of his sentiments is another feature of this +mask of state. I know no one more habitually destitute of that +enthusiasm he so beautifully expresses, and to which he can work up +his fancy chiefly by contagion.</p> +<p>‘I had heard he was the best of brothers, the most generous +of friends, and I thought such feelings only required to be warmed and +cherished into more diffusive benevolence. Though these opinions +are eradicated, and could never return but with the decay of my memory, +you will not wonder if there are still moments when the association +of feelings which arose from them soften and sadden my thoughts.</p> +<p>‘But I have not thanked you, dearest Lady Anne, for your kindness +in regard to a principal object,—that of rectifying false impressions. +I trust you understand my wishes, which never were to injure Lord Byron +in any way; for, though he would not suffer me to remain his wife, he +cannot prevent me from continuing his friend; and it was from considering +myself as such that I silenced the accusations by which my own conduct +might have been more fully justified.</p> +<p>‘It is not necessary to speak ill of his heart in general; +it is sufficient that to me it was hard and impenetrable that my own +must have been broken before his could have been touched. I would +rather represent this as my misfortune than as his guilt; but, surely, +that misfortune is not to be made my crime! Such are my feelings; +you will judge how to act.</p> +<p>‘His allusions to me in “Childe Harold” are cruel +and cold, but with such a semblance as to make me appear so, and to +attract all sympathy to himself. It is said in this poem that +hatred of him will be taught as a lesson to his child. I might +appeal to all who have ever heard me speak of him, and still more to +my own heart, to witness that there has been no moment when I have remembered +injury otherwise than affectionately and sorrowfully.</p> +<p>‘It is not my duty to give way to hopeless and wholly unrequited +affection; but, so long as I live, my chief struggle will probably be +not to remember him too kindly. I do not seek the sympathy of +the world, but I wish to be known by those whose opinion is valuable +and whose kindness is dear to me. Among such, my dear Lady Anne, +you will ever be remembered by your truly affectionate</p> +<p>‘A. BYRON.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>On this letter I observe Lord Lindsay remarks that it shows a noble +but rather severe character, and a recent author has remarked that it +seemed to be written rather in a ‘cold spirit of criticism.’ +It seems to strike these gentlemen as singular that Lady Byron did not +enjoy the poem! But there are two remarkable sentences in this +letter which have escaped the critics hitherto. Lord Byron, in +this, the Third Canto of ‘Childe Harold,’ expresses in most +affecting words an enthusiasm of love for his sister. So long +as he lived he was her faithful correspondent; he sent her his journals; +and, dying, he left her and her children everything he had in the world. +This certainly seems like an affectionate brother; but in what words +does Lady Byron speak of this affection?</p> +<p>‘I<i> had heard he was the best of brothers</i>, the most generous +of friends. I thought these feelings only required to be warmed +and cherished into more diffusive benevolence. THESE OPINIONS +ARE ERADICATED, AND COULD NEVER RETURN BUT WITH THE DECAY OF MEMORY.’ +Let me ask those who give this letter as a proof that at this time no +idea such as I have stated was in Lady Byron’s mind, to account +for these words. Let them please answer these questions: Why had +Lady Byron ceased to think him a good brother? Why does she use +so strong a word as that the opinion was eradicated, torn up by the +roots, and could never grow again in her except by decay of memory?</p> +<p>And yet this is a document Lord Lindsay vouches for as authentic, +and which he brings forward <i>in defence</i> of Lord Byron.</p> +<p>Again she says, ‘Though he <i>would not suffer me to remain +his wife</i>, he cannot prevent me from continuing his friend.’ +Do these words not say that in some past time, in some decided manner, +Lord Byron had declared to her his rejection of her as a wife? +I shall yet have occasion to explain these words.</p> +<p>Again she says, ‘I silenced accusations by which my conduct +might have been more fully justified.’</p> +<p>The people in England who are so very busy in searching out evidence +against my true story have searched out and given to the world an important +confirmation of this assertion of Lady Byron’s.</p> +<p>It seems that the confidential waiting-maid who went with Lady Byron +on her wedding journey has been sought out and interrogated, and, as +appears by description, is a venerable, respectable old person, quite +in possession of all her senses in general, and of that sixth sense +of propriety in particular, which appears not to be a common virtue +in our days.</p> +<p>As her testimony is important, we insert it just here, with a description +of her person in full. The ardent investigators thus speak:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Having gained admission, we were shown into a +small but neatly furnished and scrupulously clean apartment, where sat +the object of our visit. Mrs. Mimms is a venerable-looking old +lady, of short stature, slight and active appearance, with a singularly +bright and intelligent countenance. Although midway between eighty +and ninety years of age, she is in full possession of her faculties, +discourses freely and cheerfully, hears apparently as well as ever she +did, and her sight is so good that, aided by a pair of spectacles, she +reads the Chronicle every day with ease. Some idea of her competency +to contribute valuable evidence to the subject which now so much engages +public attention on three continents may be found from her own narrative +of her personal relations with Lady Byron. Mrs. Mimms was born +in the neighbourhood of Seaham, and knew Lady Byron from childhood. +During the long period of ten years she was Miss Milbanke’s lady’s-maid, +and in that capacity became the close confidante of her mistress. +There were circumstances which rendered their relationship peculiarly +intimate. Miss Milbanke had no sister or female friend to whom +she was bound by the ties of more than a common affection; and her mother, +whatever other excellent qualities she may have possessed, was too high-spirited +and too hasty in temper to attract the sympathies of the young. +Some months before Miss Milbanke was married to Lord Byron, Mrs. Mimms +had quitted her service on the occasion of her own marriage with Mr. +Mimms; but she continued to reside in the neighbourhood of Seaham, and +remained on the most friendly terms with her former mistress. +As the courtship proceeded, Miss Milbanke concealed nothing from her +faithful attendant; and when the wedding-day was fixed, she begged Mrs. +Mimms to return and fulfil the duties of lady’s-maid, at least +during the honeymoon. Mrs. Mimms at the time was nursing her first +child, and it was no small sacrifice to quit her own home at such a +moment, but she could not refuse her old mistress’s request. +Accordingly, she returned to Seaham Hall some days before the wedding, +was present at the ceremony, and then preceded Lord and Lady Byron to +Halnaby Hall, near Croft, in the North Riding of Yorkshire, one of Sir +Ralph Milbanke’s seats, where the newly married couple were to +spend the honeymoon. Mrs. Mimms remained with Lord and Lady Byron +during the three weeks they spent at Halnaby Hall, and then accompanied +them to Seaham, where they spent the next six weeks. It was during +the latter period that she finally quitted Lady Byron’s service; +but she remained in the most friendly communication with her ladyship +till the death of the latter, and for some time was living in the neighbourhood +of Lady Byron’s residence in Leicestershire, where she had frequent +opportunities of seeing her former mistress. It may be added that +Lady Byron was not unmindful of the faithful services of her friend +and attendant in the instructions to her executors contained in her +will. Such was the position of Mrs. Mimms towards Lady Byron; +and we think no one will question that it was of a nature to entitle +all that Mrs. Mimms may say on the subject of the relations of Lord +and Lady Byron to the most respectful consideration and credit.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Such is the chronicler’s account of the faithful creature whom +nothing but intense indignation and disgust at Mrs. Beecher Stowe would +lead to speak on her mistress’s affairs; but Mrs. Beecher Stowe +feels none the less sincere respect for her, and is none the less obliged +to her for having spoken. Much of Mrs. Mimms’s testimony +will be referred to in another place; we only extract one passage, to +show that while Lord Byron spent his time in setting afloat slanders +against his wife, she spent hers in sealing the mouths of witnesses +against him.</p> +<p>Of the period of the honeymoon Mrs. Mimms says:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The happiness of Lady Byron, however, was of brief +duration; even during the short three weeks they spent at Halnaby, the +irregularities of Lord Byron occasioned her the greatest distress, and +she even contemplated returning to her father. Mrs. Mimms was +her constant companion and confidante through this painful period, and +she does not believe that her ladyship concealed a thought from her. +With laudable reticence, the old lady absolutely refuses to disclose +the particulars of Lord Byron’s misconduct at this time; she gave +Lady Byron a solemn promise not to do so.</p> +</blockquote> +<p> * +* * +*</p> +<blockquote><p>‘So serious did Mrs. Mimms consider the conduct +of Lord Byron, that she recommended her mistress to confide all the +circumstances to her father, Sir Ralph Milbanke, a calm, kind, and most +excellent parent, and take his advice as to her future course. +At one time Mrs. Mimms thinks Lady Byron had resolved to follow her +counsel and impart her wrongs to Sir Ralph; but on arriving at Seaham +Hall her ladyship strictly enjoined Mrs. Mimms to preserve absolute +silence on the subject—a course which she followed herself;—so +that when, six weeks later, she and Lord Byron left Seaham for London, +not a word had escaped her to disturb her parents’ tranquillity +as to their daughter’s domestic happiness. As might be expected, +Mrs. Mimms bears the warmest testimony to the noble and lovable qualities +of her departed mistress. She also declares that Lady Byron was +by no means of a cold temperament, but that the affectionate impulses +of her nature were checked by the unkind treatment she experienced from +her husband.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We have already shown that Lord Byron had been, ever since his separation, +engaged in a systematic attempt to reverse the judgment of the world +against himself, by making converts of all his friends to a most odious +view of his wife’s character, and inspiring them with the zeal +of propagandists to spread these views through society. We have +seen how he prepared partisans to interpret the Fourth Canto of ‘Childe +Harold.’</p> +<p>This plan of solemn and heroic accusation was the first public attack +on his wife. Next we see him commencing a scurrilous attempt to +turn her to ridicule in the First Canto of ‘Don Juan.’</p> +<p>It is to our point now to show how carefully and cautiously this +Don Juan campaign was planned.</p> +<p>Vol. IV. p.138, we find Letter 325 to Mr. Murray:—</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘Venice: January 25, 1819.</p> +<p>‘You will do me the favour to print privately, for private +distribution, fifty copies of “Don Juan.” The list +of the men to whom I wish it presented I will send hereafter.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The poem, as will be remembered, begins with the meanest and foulest +attack on his wife that ever ribald wrote, and puts it in close neighbourhood +with scenes which every pure man or woman must feel to be the beastly +utterances of a man who had lost all sense of decency. Such a +potion was too strong to be administered even in a time when great license +was allowed, and men were not over-nice. But Byron chooses fifty +armour-bearers of that class of men who would find indecent ribaldry +about a wife a good joke, and talk about the ‘artistic merits’ +of things which we hope would make an honest boy blush.</p> +<p>At this time he acknowledges that his vices had brought him to a +state of great exhaustion, attended by such debility of the stomach +that nothing remained on it; and adds, ‘I was obliged to reform +my way of life, which was conducting me from the yellow leaf to the +ground with all deliberate speed.’ <a name="citation41"></a><a href="#footnote41">{41}</a> +But as his health is a little better he employs it in making the way +to death and hell elegantly easy for other young men, by breaking down +the remaining scruples of a society not over-scrupulous.</p> +<p>Society revolted, however, and fought stoutly against the nauseous +dose. His sister wrote to him that she heard such things said +of it that <i>she</i> never would read it; and the outcry against it +on the part of all women of his acquaintance was such that for a time +he was quite overborne; and the Countess Guiccioli finally extorted +a promise from him to cease writing it. Nevertheless, there came +a time when England accepted ‘Don Juan,’—when Wilson, +in the ‘Noctes Ambrosianae,’ praised it as a classic, and +took every opportunity to reprobate Lady Byron’s conduct. +When first it appeared the ‘Blackwood’ came out with that +indignant denunciation of which we have spoken, and to which Byron replied +in the extracts we have already quoted. He did something more +than reply. He marked out Wilson as one of the strongest literary +men of the day, and set his ‘initiated’ with their documents +to work upon him.</p> +<p>One of these documents to which he requested Wilson’s attention +was the private autobiography, written expressly to give his own story +of all the facts of the marriage and separation.</p> +<p>In the indignant letter he writes Murray on the ‘Blackwood’ +article, Vol. IV., Letter 350—under date December 10, 1819—he +says:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I sent home for Moore, and for Moore only (who +has my journal also), my memoir written up to 1816, and I gave him leave +to show it to whom he pleased, but not to publish on any account. +You may read it, and you may let Wilson read it if he likes—not +for his public opinion, but his private, for I like the man, and care +very little about the magazine. And I could wish Lady Byron herself +to read it, that she may have it in her power to mark any thing mistaken +or misstated. As it will never appear till after my extinction, +it would be but fair she should see it; that is to say, herself willing. +Your “Blackwood” accuses me of treating women harshly; but +I have been their martyr; my whole life has been sacrificed to them +and by them.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It was a part of Byron’s policy to place Lady Byron in positions +before the world where she <i>could</i> not speak, and where her silence +would be set down to her as haughty, stony indifference and obstinacy. +Such was the pretended negotiation through Madame de Staël, and +such now this apparently fair and generous offer to let Lady Byron see +and mark this manuscript.</p> +<p>The little Ada is now in her fifth year—a child of singular +sensibility and remarkable mental powers—one of those exceptional +children who are so perilous a charge for a mother.</p> +<p>Her husband proposes this artful snare to her,—that she shall +mark what is false in a statement which is all built on a damning lie, +that she cannot refute over that daughter’s head,—and which +would perhaps be her ruin to discuss.</p> +<p>Hence came an addition of two more documents, to be used ‘privately +among friends,’ <a name="citation43"></a><a href="#footnote43">{43}</a> +and which ‘Blackwood’ uses after Lady Byron is safely out +of the world to cast ignominy on her grave—the wife’s letter, +that of a mother standing at bay for her daughter, knowing that she +is dealing with a desperate, powerful, unscrupulous enemy.</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘Kirkby Mallory: March 10, 1820.</p> +<p>‘I received your letter of January 1, offering to my perusal +a Memoir of part of your life. I decline to inspect it. +I consider the publication or circulation of such a composition at any +time as prejudicial to Ada’s future happiness. For my own +sake, I have no reason to shrink from publication; but, notwithstanding +the injuries which I have suffered, I should lament some of the consequences.</p> +<p> ‘A. Byron.</p> +<p>‘To Lord Byron.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Lord Byron, writing for the public, as is his custom, makes reply:—</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘Ravenna: April 3, 1820.</p> +<p>‘I received yesterday your answer, dated March 10. My +offer was an honest one, and surely could only be construed as such +even by the most malignant casuistry. I could answer you, but +it is too late, and it is not worth while. To the mysterious menace +of the last sentence, whatever its import may be—and I cannot +pretend to unriddle it—I could hardly be very sensible even if +I understood it, as, before it can take place, I shall be where “nothing +can touch him further.” . . . I advise you, however, to +anticipate the period of your intention, for, be assured, no power of +figures can avail beyond the present; and if it could, I would answer +with the Florentine:—</p> +<p>‘“Ed io, che posto son con loro in croce<br /> +. . . +. . e certo<br /> +La fiera moglie, più ch’altro, mi nuoce.” <a name="citation44"></a><a href="#footnote44">{44}</a></p> +<p> ‘BYRON.</p> +<p>‘To Lady Byron.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Two things are very evident in this correspondence: Lady Byron intimates +that, if he publishes his story, some <i>consequences</i> must follow +which she shall regret.</p> +<p>Lord Byron receives this as a threat, and says he doesn’t understand +it. But directly after he says, ‘Before IT can take place, +I shall be,’ etc.</p> +<p>The intimation is quite clear. He <i>does</i> understand what +the consequences alluded to are. They are evidently that Lady +Byron will speak out and tell her story. He says she cannot do +this till <i>after he is dead</i>, and then he shall not care. +In allusion to her accuracy as to dates and figures, he says: ‘Be +assured no power of figures can avail beyond the present’ (life); +and then ironically <i>advises</i> her to <i>anticipate the period</i>,—i.e. +to speak out while he is alive.</p> +<p>In Vol. VI. Letter 518, which Lord Byron wrote to Lady Byron, but +did not send, he says: ‘I burned your last note for two reasons,—firstly, +because it was written in a style not very agreeable; and, secondly, +because I wished to take your word without documents, which are the +resources of worldly and suspicious people.’</p> +<p>It would appear from this that there was a last letter of Lady Byron +to her husband, which he did not think proper to keep on hand, or show +to the ‘initiated’ with his usual unreserve; that this letter +contained some kind of <i>pledge</i> for which he preferred to take +her word, <i>without documents</i>.</p> +<p>Each reader can imagine for himself what that <i>pledge</i> might +have been; but from the tenor of the three letters we should infer that +it was a promise of silence for his lifetime, on <i>certain conditions</i>, +and that the publication of the autobiography would violate those conditions, +and make it her duty to speak out.</p> +<p>This celebrated autobiography forms so conspicuous a figure in the +whole history, that the reader must have a full idea of it, as given +by Byron himself, in Vol. IV. Letter 344, to Murray:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I gave to Moore, who is gone to Rome, my life +in MS.,—in seventy-eight folio sheets, brought down to 1816 . +. . also a journal kept in 1814. Neither are for publication during +my life, but when I am cold you may do what you please. In the +mean time, if you like to read them you may, and show them to anybody +you like. I care not. . . . ’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>He tells him also:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘You will find in it a detailed account of my marriage +and its consequences, as true as a party concerned can make such an +account.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Of the extent to which this autobiography was circulated we have +the following testimony of Shelton Mackenzie, in notes to ‘The +Noctes’ of June 1824.</p> +<p>In ‘The Noctes’ Odoherty says:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The fact is, the work had been copied for the +private reading of a great lady in Florence.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The note says:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The great lady in Florence, for whose private +reading Byron’s autobiography was copied, was the Countess of +Westmoreland. . . . Lady Blessington had the autobiography in +her possession for weeks, and confessed to having copied every line +of it. Moore remonstrated, and she committed her copy to the flames, +but did not tell him that her sister, Mrs. Home Purvis, now Viscountess +of Canterbury, had also made a copy! . . . From the quantity of +copy I have seen,—and others were more in the way of falling in +with it than myself,—I surmise that at least half a dozen copies +were made, and of these five are now in existence. Some particular +parts, such as the marriage and separation, were copied separately; +but I think there cannot be less than five full copies yet to be found.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This was written <i>after the original autobiography was burned</i>.</p> +<p>We may see the zeal and enthusiasm of the Byron party,—copying +seventy-eight folio sheets, as of old Christians copied the Gospels. +How widely, fully, and thoroughly, thus, by this secret process, was +society saturated with Byron’s own versions of the story that +related to himself and wife! Against her there was only the complaint +of an absolute silence. She put forth no statements, no documents; +had no party, sealed the lips of her counsel, and even of her servants; +yet she could not but have known, from time to time, how thoroughly +and strongly this web of mingled truth and lies was being meshed around +her steps.</p> +<p>From the time that Byron first saw the importance of securing Wilson +on his side, and wrote to have his partisans attend to him, we may date +an entire revolution in the ‘Blackwood.’ It became +Byron’s warmest supporter,—is to this day the bitterest +accuser of his wife.</p> +<p>Why was this wonderful silence? It appears by Dr. Lushington’s +statements, that, when Lady Byron did speak, she had a story to tell +that powerfully affected both him and Romilly,—a story supported +by evidence on which they were willing to have gone to public trial. +Supposing, now, she had imitated Lord Byron’s example, and, avoiding +public trial, had put her story into private circulation; as he sent +‘Don Juan’ to fifty confidential friends, suppose she had +sent a written statement of her story to fifty judges as intelligent +as the two that had heard it; or suppose she had confronted his autobiography +with her own,—what would have been the result?</p> +<p>The first result might have been Mrs. Leigh’s utter ruin. +The world may finally forgive the man of genius anything; but for a +woman there is no mercy and no redemption.</p> +<p>This ruin Lady Byron prevented by her utter silence and great self-command. +Mrs. Leigh never lost position. Lady Byron never so varied in +her manner towards her as to excite the suspicions even of her confidential +old servant.</p> +<p>To protect Mrs. Leigh effectually, it must have been necessary to +continue to exclude even her own mother from the secret, as we are assured +she did at first; for, had she told Lady Milbanke, it is not possible +that so high-spirited a woman could have restrained herself from such +outward expressions as would at least have awakened suspicion. +There was no resource but this absolute silence.</p> +<p>Lady Blessington, in her last conversation with Lord Byron, thus +describes the life Lady Byron was leading. She speaks of her as +‘wearing away her youth in almost monastic seclusion, questioned +by some, appreciated by few, seeking consolation alone in the discharge +of her duties, and avoiding all external demonstrations of a grief that +her pale cheek and solitary existence alone were vouchers for.’ +<a name="citation49"></a><a href="#footnote49">{49}</a></p> +<p>The main object of all this silence may be imagined, if we remember +that if Lord Byron had not died,—had he truly and deeply repented, +and become a thoroughly good man, and returned to England to pursue +a course worthy of his powers, there was on record neither word nor +deed from his wife to stand in his way.</p> +<p>HIS PLACE WAS KEPT IN SOCIETY, ready for him to return to whenever +he came clothed and in his right mind. He might have had the heart +and confidence of his daughter unshadowed by a suspicion. He might +have won the reverence of the great and good in his own lands and all +lands. That hope, which was the strong support, the prayer of +the silent wife, it did not please God to fulfil.</p> +<p>Lord Byron died a worn-out man at thirty-six. But the bitter +seeds he had sown came up, after his death, in a harvest of thorns over +his grave; and there were not wanting hands to use them as instruments +of torture on the heart of his widow.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER III. RÉSUMÉ OF THE CONSPIRACY.</h3> +<p>We have traced the conspiracy of Lord Byron against his wife up to +its latest device. That the reader’s mind may be clear on +the points of the process, we shall now briefly recapitulate the documents +in the order of time.</p> +<p>I. March 17, 1816.—While negotiations for separation +were pending,—‘<i>Fare thee well, and if for ever</i>.’</p> +<p>While writing these pages, we have received from England the testimony +of one who has seen the original draught of that ‘Fare thee well.’ +This original copy had evidently been subjected to the most careful +and acute revision. Scarcely two lines that were not interlined, +scarcely an adjective that was not exchanged for a better; showing that +the noble lord was not so far overcome by grief as to have forgotten +his reputation. (Found its way to the public prints through the +imprudence of <i>a</i> <i>friend</i>.)</p> +<p>II. March 29, 1816.—An attack on Lady Byron’s old +governess for having been born poor, for being homely, and for having +unduly influenced his wife against him; promising that her grave should +be a fiery bed, etc.; also praising his wife’s perfect and remarkable +truthfulness and discernment, that made it impossible for flattery to +fool, or baseness blind her; but ascribing all his woes to her being +fooled and blinded by this same governess. (Found its way to the +prints by the imprudence of <i>a</i> <i>friend</i>.)</p> +<p>III. September 1816.—Lines on hearing that Lady Byron +is ill. Calls her a Clytemnestra, who has secretly set assassins +on her lord; says she is a mean, treacherous, deceitful liar, and has +entirely departed from her early truth, and become the most unscrupulous +and unprincipled of women. (Never printed till after Lord Byron’s +death, but circulated <i>privately</i> among the ‘<i>initiated</i>.’)</p> +<p>IV. Aug. 9, 1817.—Gives to M. G. Lewis a paper for circulation +among friends in England, stating that what he most wants is <i>public +investigation</i>, which has always been denied him; and daring Lady +Byron and her counsel to come out publicly. (Found in M. G. Lewis’s +portfolio after his death; never heard of before, except among the ‘initiated.’)</p> +<p>Having given M. G. Lewis’s document time to work,—</p> +<p>January 1818.—Gives the Fourth Canto of ‘Childe Harold’ +<a name="citation51"></a><a href="#footnote51">{51}</a> to the public.</p> +<p>Jan. 25, 1819.—Sends to Murray to print for private circulation +among the ‘initiated’ the First Canto of ‘Don Juan.’</p> +<p>Is nobly and severely rebuked for this insult to his wife by the +‘Blackwood,’ August 1819.</p> +<p>October 1819.—Gives Moore the manuscript ‘Autobiography,’ +with leave to show it to whom he pleases, and print it after his death.</p> +<p>Oct. 29, 1819, Vol. IV. Letter 344.—Writes to Murray, that +he may read all this ‘Autobiography,’ and show it to anybody +he likes.</p> +<p>Dec. 10, 1819.—Writes to Murray on this article in ‘Blackwood’ +against ‘Don Juan’ and himself, which he supposes written +by Wilson; sends a complimentary message to Wilson, and asks him to +read his ‘Autobiography’ sent by Moore. (Letter 350.)</p> +<p>March 15, 1820.—Writes and dedicates to I. Disraeli, Esq., +a vindication of himself in reply to the ‘Blackwood’ on +‘Don Juan,’ containing an indignant defence of his own conduct +in relation to his wife, and maintaining that he never yet has had an +opportunity of knowing whereof he has been accused; accusing Sir S. +Romilly of taking his retainer, and then going over to the adverse party, +etc. (Printed for <i>private circulation</i>; to be found in the +standard English edition of Murray, vol. ix. p.57.)</p> +<p>To this condensed account of Byron’s strategy we must add the +crowning stroke of policy which transmitted this warfare to his friends, +to be continued after his death.</p> +<p>During the last visit Moore made him in Italy, and just before Byron +presented to him his ‘Autobiography,’ the following scene +occurred, as narrated by Moore (vol. iv. p.221):—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The chief subject of conversation, when alone, +was his marriage, and the load of obloquy which it had brought upon +him. He was most anxious to know the worst that had been alleged +of his conduct; and, as this was our first opportunity of speaking together +on the subject, I did not hesitate to put his candour most searchingly +to the proof, not only by enumerating the various charges I had heard +brought against him by others, but by specifying such portions of these +charges as I had been inclined to think not incredible myself.</p> +<p>‘To all this he listened with patience, and answered with the +most unhesitating frankness; laughing to scorn the tales of unmanly +outrage related of him, but at the same time acknowledging that there +had been in his conduct but too much to blame and regret, and stating +one or two occasions during his domestic life when he had been irritated +into letting the “breath of bitter words” escape him,. . +. which he now evidently remembered with a degree of remorse and +pain which might well have entitled them to be forgotten by others.</p> +<p>‘It was, at the same time, manifest, that, whatever admissions +he might be inclined to make respecting his own delinquencies, the inordinate +measure of the punishment dealt out to him had sunk deeply into his +mind, and, with the usual effect of such injustice, drove him also to +be unjust himself; so much so, indeed, as to impute to the quarter to +which he now traced all his ill fate a feeling of fixed hostility to +himself, which would not rest, he thought, even at his grave, but continue +to persecute his memory as it was now embittering his life. So +strong was this impression upon him, that, during one of our few intervals +of seriousness, he conjured me by our friendship, if, as he both felt +and hoped, I should survive him, not to let unmerited censure settle +upon his name.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In this same account, page 218, Moore testifies that</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Lord Byron disliked his countrymen, but only because +he knew that his morals were held in contempt by them. The English, +themselves rigid observers of family duties, could not pardon him the +neglect of his, nor his trampling on principles; therefore, neither +did he like being presented to them, nor did they, especially when they +had wives with them, like to cultivate his acquaintance. Still +there was a strong desire in all of them to see him; and the women in +particular, who did not dare to look at him but by stealth, said in +an under-voice, “What a pity it is!” If, however, +any of his compatriots of exalted rank and high reputation came forward +to treat him with courtesy, he showed himself obviously flattered by +it. It seemed that, to the wound which remained open in his ulcerated +heart, such soothing attentions were as drops of healing balm, which +comforted him.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>When in society, we are further informed by a lady quoted by Mr. +Moore, he was in the habit of speaking of his wife with much respect +and affection, as an illustrious lady, distinguished for her qualities +of heart and understanding; saying that all the fault of their cruel +separation lay with himself. Mr. Moore seems at times to be somewhat +puzzled by these contradictory statements of his idol, and speculates +not a little on what could be Lord Byron’s object in using such +language in public; mentally comparing it, we suppose, with the free +handling which he gave to the same subject in his private correspondence.</p> +<p>The innocence with which Moore gives himself up to be manipulated +by Lord Byron, the <i>naïveté</i> with which he shows all +the process, let us a little into the secret of the marvellous powers +of charming and blinding which this great actor possessed.</p> +<p>Lord Byron had the beauty, the wit, the genius, the dramatic talent, +which have constituted the strength of some wonderfully fascinating +women.</p> +<p>There have been women able to lead their leashes of blinded adorers; +to make them swear that black was white, or white black, at their word; +to smile away their senses, or weep away their reason. No matter +what these sirens may say, no matter what they may do, though caught +in a thousand transparent lies, and doing a thousand deeds which would +have ruined others, still men madly rave after them in life, and tear +their hair over their graves. Such an enchanter in man’s +shape was Lord Byron.</p> +<p>He led captive Moore and Murray by being beautiful, a genius, and +a lord; calling them ‘Dear Tom’ and ‘Dear Murray,’ +while they were only commoners. He first insulted Sir Walter Scott, +and then witched his heart out of him by ingenuous confessions and poetical +compliments; he took Wilson’s heart by flattering messages and +a beautifully-written letter; he corresponded familiarly with Hogg; +and, before his death, had made fast friends, in one way or another, +of the whole ‘Noctes Ambrosianae’ Club.</p> +<p>We thus have given the historical <i>résumé</i> of +Lord Byron’s attacks on his wife’s reputation: we shall +add, that they were based on philosophic principles, showing a deep +knowledge of mankind. An analysis will show that they can be philosophically +classified:—</p> +<p>1st. Those which addressed the sympathetic nature of man, representing +her as cold, methodical, severe, strict, unforgiving.</p> +<p>2nd. Those addressed to the faculty of association, connecting +her with ludicrous and licentious images; taking from her the usual +protection of womanly delicacy and sacredness.</p> +<p>3rd. Those addressed to the moral faculties, accusing her as +artful, treacherous, untruthful, malignant.</p> +<p>All these various devices he held in his hand, shuffling and dealing +them as a careful gamester his pack of cards according to the exigencies +of the game. He played adroitly, skilfully, with blinding flatteries +and seductive wiles, that made his victims willing dupes.</p> +<p>Nothing can more clearly show the power and perfectness of his enchantments +than the masterly way in which he turned back the moral force of the +whole English nation, which had risen at first in its strength against +him. The victory was complete.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV. RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON’S DEATH.</h3> +<p>At the time of Lord Byron’s death, the English public had been +so skilfully manipulated by the Byron propaganda, that the sympathy +of the whole world was with him. A tide of emotion was now aroused +in England by his early death—dying in the cause of Greece and +liberty. There arose a general wail for him, as for a lost pleiad, +not only in England, but over the whole world; a great rush of enthusiasm +for his memory, to which the greatest literary men of England freely +gave voice. By general consent, Lady Byron seems to have been +looked upon as the only cold-hearted unsympathetic person in this general +mourning.</p> +<p>From that time the literary world of England apparently regarded +Lady Byron as a woman to whom none of the decorums, nor courtesies of +ordinary womanhood, nor even the consideration belonging to common humanity, +were due.</p> +<p>‘She that is a widow indeed, and desolate,’ has been +regarded in all Christian countries as an object made sacred by the +touch of God’s afflicting hand, sacred in her very helplessness; +and the old Hebrew Scriptures give to the Supreme Father no dearer title +than ‘the widow’s God.’ But, on Lord Byron’s +death, men not devoid of tenderness, men otherwise generous and of fine +feeling, acquiesced in insults to his widow with an obtuseness that +seems, on review, quite incredible.</p> +<p>Lady Byron was not only a widow, but an orphan. She had no +sister for confidante; no father and mother to whom to go in her sorrows—sorrows +so much deeper and darker to her than they could be to any other human +being. She had neither son nor brother to uphold and protect her. +On all hands it was acknowledged that, so far, there was no fault to +be found in her but her utter silence. Her life was confessed +to be pure, useful, charitable; and yet, in this time of her sorrow, +the writers of England issued article upon article not only devoid of +delicacy, but apparently injurious and insulting towards her, with a +blind unconsciousness which seems astonishing.</p> +<p>One of the greatest literary powers of that time was the ‘Blackwood:’ +the reigning monarch on that literary throne was Wilson, the lion-hearted, +the brave, generous, tender poet, and, with some sad exceptions, the +noble man. But Wilson had believed the story of Byron, and, by +his very generosity and tenderness and pity, was betrayed into injustice.</p> +<p>In ‘The Noctes’ of November 1824 there is a conversation +of the Noctes Club, in which North says, ‘Byron and I knew each +other pretty well; and I suppose there’s no harm in adding, that +we appreciated each other pretty tolerably. Did you ever see his +letter to me?’</p> +<p>The footnote to this says, <i>‘This letter, which was</i> PRINTED +<i>in Byron’s lifetime, was not published till</i> 1830, when +it appeared in Moore’s “Life of Byron.” It is +one of the most vigorous prose compositions in the language. Byron +had the highest opinion of Wilson’s genius and noble spirit.’</p> +<p>In the first place, with our present ideas of propriety and good +taste, we should reckon it an indecorum to make the private affairs +of a pure and good woman, whose circumstances under any point of view +were trying, and who evidently shunned publicity, the subject of public +discussion in magazines which were read all over the world.</p> +<p>Lady Byron, as they all knew, had on her hands a most delicate and +onerous task, in bringing up an only daughter, necessarily inheriting +peculiarities of genius and great sensitiveness; and the many mortifications +and embarrassments which such intermeddling with her private matters +must have given, certainly should have been considered by men with any +pretensions to refinement or good feeling.</p> +<p>But the literati of England allowed her no consideration, no rest, +no privacy.</p> +<p>In ‘The Noctes’ of November 1825 there is the record +of a free conversation upon Lord and Lady Byron’s affairs, interlarded +with exhortations to push the bottle, and remarks on whisky-toddy. +Medwin’s ‘Conversations with Lord Byron’ is discussed, +which, we are told in a note, appeared a few months after the <i>noble</i> +poet’s death.</p> +<p>There is a rather bold and free discussion of Lord Byron’s +character—his fondness for gin and water, on which stimulus he +wrote ‘Don Juan;’ and James Hogg says pleasantly to Mullion, +‘O Mullion! it’s a pity you and Byron could na ha’ +been acquaint. There would ha’ been brave sparring to see +who could say the wildest and the dreadfullest things; for he had neither +fear of man or woman, and would ha’ his joke or jeer, cost what +it might.’ And then follows a specimen of one of his jokes +with an actress, that, in indecency, certainly justifies the assertion. +From the other stories which follow, and the parenthesis that occurs +frequently (‘Mind your glass, James, a little more!’), it +seems evident that the party are progressing in their peculiar kind +of <i>civilisation</i>.</p> +<p>It is in this same circle and paper that Lady Byron’s private +affairs come up for discussion. The discussion is thus elegantly +introduced:—</p> +<blockquote><p>Hogg.—‘Reach me the black bottle. I +say, Christopher, what, after all, is your opinion o’ Lord and +Leddy Byron’s quarrel? Do you yoursel’ take part with +him, or with her? I wad like to hear your real opinion.’</p> +<p>North.—‘Oh, dear! Well, Hogg, since you will have +it, I think Douglas Kinnard and Hobhouse are bound to tell us whether +there be any truth, and how much, in this story about the declaration, +signed by Sir Ralph’ [Milbanke].</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The note here tells us that this refers to a statement that appeared +in ‘Blackwood’ immediately after Byron’s death, to +the effect that, previous to the formal separation from his wife, Byron +required and obtained from Sir Ralph Milbanke, Lady Byron’s father, +a statement to the effect that Lady Byron had no charge of moral delinquency +to bring against him. <a name="citation61"></a><a href="#footnote61">{61}</a></p> +<p>North continues:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘And I think Lady Byron’s letter—the +“Dearest Duck” one I mean—should really be forthcoming, +if her ladyship’s friends wish to stand fair before the public. +At present we have nothing but loose talk of society to go upon; and +certainly, if the things that are said be true, there must be thorough +explanation from some quarter, or the tide will continue, as it has +assuredly begun, to flow in a direction very opposite to what we were +for years accustomed. Sir, they must explain this business of +the letter. You have, of course, heard about the invitation it +contained, the warm, affectionate invitation, to Kirkby Mallory’—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Hogg interposes,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I dinna like to be interruptin’ ye, Mr. +North; but I must inquire, Is the jug to stand still while ye’re +going on at that rate?’</p> +<p>North—‘There, Porker! These things are part and +parcel of the chatter of every bookseller’s shop; à fortiori, +of every drawing-room in May Fair. Can the matter stop here? +Can a great man’s memory be permitted to incur damnation while +these saving clauses are afloat anywhere uncontradicted?’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And from this the conversation branches off into strong, emphatic +praise of Byron’s conduct in Greece during the last part of his +life.</p> +<p>The silent widow is thus delicately and considerately reminded in +the ‘Blackwood’ that she is the talk, not only over the +whisky jug of the Noctes, but in every drawing-room in London; and that +she <i>must</i> speak out and explain matters, or the whole world will +set against her.</p> +<p>But she does not speak yet. The public persecution, therefore, +proceeds. Medwin’s book being insufficient, another biographer +is to be selected. Now, the person in the Noctes Club who was +held to have the most complete information of the Byron affairs, and +was, on that account, first thought of by Murray to execute this very +delicate task of writing a memoir which should include the most sacred +domestic affairs of a noble lady and her orphan daughter, was <i>Maginn</i>. +Maginn, the author of the pleasant joke, that ‘man never reaches +the apex of civilisation till he is too drunk to pronounce the word,’ +was the first person in whose hands the ‘Autobiography,’ +Memoirs, and Journals of Lord Byron were placed with this view.</p> +<p>The following note from Shelton Mackenzie, in the June number of +‘The Noctes,’ 1824, says,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘At that time, had he been so minded, Maginn (Odoherty) +could have got up a popular Life of Byron as well as most men in England. +Immediately on the account of Byron’s death being received in +London, John Murray proposed that Maginn should bring out Memoirs, Journals, +and Letters of Lord Byron, and, with this intent, placed in his hand +every line that he (Murray) possessed in Byron’s handwriting. +. . . . The strong desire of Byron’s family and executors +that the “Autobiography” should be burned, to which desire +Murray foolishly yielded, made such an hiatus in the materials, that +Murray and Maginn agreed it would not answer to bring out the work then. +Eventually Moore executed it.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The character of the times in which this work was to be undertaken +will appear from the following note of Mackenzie’s to ‘The +Noctes’ of August 1824, which we copy, with the <i>author’s +own Italics</i>:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘In the “Blackwood” of July 1824 was +a poetical epistle by the renowned Timothy Tickler to the editor of +the “John Bull” magazine, on an article in his first number. +This article. . . professed to be a portion of the veritable “Autobiography” +of Byron which was burned, and was called “My Wedding Night.” +It appeared to relate in detail everything that occurred in the twenty-four +hours immediately succeeding that in which Byron was married. +It had plenty of coarseness, and some to spare. It went into particulars +such as hitherto had been given only by Faublas; and it had, notwithstanding, +many phrases and some facts which evidently did not belong to a mere +fabricator. Some years after, I compared this “Wedding Night” +with what I had all assurance of having been transcribed from the actual +manuscripts of Byron, and was persuaded that the magazine-writer must +have had the actual statement before him, or have had a perusal of it. +The writer in “Blackwood” declared his conviction that it +really was Byron’s own writing.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The reader must remember that Lord Byron died April 1824; so that, +according to this, his ‘Autobiography’ was made the means +of this gross insult to his widow three months after his death.</p> +<p>If some powerful cause had not paralysed all feelings of gentlemanly +honour, and of womanly delicacy, and of common humanity, towards Lady +Byron, throughout the whole British nation, no editor would have dared +to open a periodical with such an article; or, if he had, he would have +been overwhelmed with a storm of popular indignation, which, like the +fire upon Sodom, would have made a pillar of salt of him for a warning +to all future generations.</p> +<p>‘Blackwood’ reproves the ‘John Bull’ in a +poetical epistle, recognising the article as coming from Byron, and +says to the <i>author</i>,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘But that you, sir, a wit and a scholar like you,<br /> +Should not blush to produce what he blushed not to do,—<br /> +Take your compliment, youngster; this doubles, almost,<br /> +The sorrow that rose when his honour was lost.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We may not wonder that the ‘Autobiography’ was burned, +as Murray says in a recent account, by a committee of Byron’s +<i>friends</i>, including Hobhouse, his sister, and Murray himself.</p> +<p>Now, the ‘Blackwood’ of July 1824 thus declares its conviction +that this outrage on every sentiment of human decency came from Lord +Byron, and that his honour was lost. Maginn does not undertake +the memoir. No memoir at all is undertaken; till finally Moore +is selected, as, like Demetrius of old, a well-skilled gilder and ‘maker +of silver shrines,’ though <i>not</i> for Diana. To Moore +is committed the task of doing his best for this battered image, in +which even the worshippers recognise foul sulphurous cracks, but which +they none the less stand ready to worship as a genuine article that +‘fell down from Jupiter.’</p> +<p>Moore was a man of no particular nicety as to moralities, but in +that matter seems not very much below what this record shows his average +associates to be. He is so far superior to Maginn, that his vice +is rose-coloured and refined. He does not burst out with such +heroic stanzas as Maginn’s frank invitation to Jeremy Bentham:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Jeremy, throw your pen aside,<br /> + And come get drunk with me;<br /> +And we’ll go where Bacchus sits astride,<br /> + Perched high on barrels three.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Moore’s vice is cautious, soft, seductive, slippery, and covered +at times with a thin, tremulous veil of religious sentimentalism.</p> +<p>In regard to Byron, he was an unscrupulous, committed partisan: he +was as much bewitched by him as ever man has been by woman; and therefore +to him, at last, the task of editing Byron’s ‘Memoirs’ +was given.</p> +<p>This Byron, whom they all knew to be obscene beyond what even their +most drunken tolerance could at first endure; this man, whose foul license +<i>spoke</i> <i>out</i> what most men conceal from mere respect to the +decent instincts of humanity; whose ‘honour was lost,’—was +submitted to this careful manipulator, to be turned out a perfected +idol for a world longing for an idol, as the Israelites longed for the +calf in Horeb.</p> +<p>The image was to be invested with deceitful glories and shifting +haloes,—admitted faults spoken of as peculiarities of sacred origin,—and +the world given to understand that no common rule or measure could apply +to such an undoubtedly divine production; and so the hearts of men were +to be wrung with pity for his sorrows as the yearning pain of a god, +and with anger at his injuries as sacrilege on the sacredness of genius, +till they were ready to cast themselves at his feet, and adore.</p> +<p>Then he was to be set up on a pedestal, like Nebuchadnezzar’s +image on the plains of Dura; and what time the world heard the sound +of cornet, sackbut, and dulcimer, in his enchanting verse, they were +to fall down and worship.</p> +<p>For Lady Byron, Moore had simply the respect that a commoner has +for a lady of rank, and a good deal of the feeling that seems to underlie +all English literature,—that it is no matter what becomes of the +woman when the man’s story is to be told. But, with all +his faults, Moore was not a cruel man; and we cannot conceive such outrageous +cruelty and ungentlemanly indelicacy towards an unoffending woman, as +he shows in these ‘Memoirs,’ without referring them to Lord +Byron’s own influence in making him an unscrupulous, committed +partisan on his side.</p> +<p>So little pity, so little sympathy, did he suppose Lady Byron to +be worthy of, that he laid before her, in the sight of all the world, +selections from her husband’s letters and journals, in which the +privacies of her courtship and married life were jested upon with a +vulgar levity; letters filled, from the time of the act of separation, +with a constant succession of sarcasms, stabs, stings, epigrams, and +vindictive allusions to herself, bringing her into direct and insulting +comparison with his various mistresses, and implying their superiority +over her. There, too, were gross attacks on her father and mother, +as having been the instigators of the separation; and poor Lady Milbanke, +in particular, is sometimes mentioned with epithets so offensive, that +the editor prudently covers the terms with stars, as intending language +too gross to be printed.</p> +<p>The last mistress of Lord Byron is uniformly brought forward in terms +of such respect and consideration, that one would suppose that the usual +moral laws that regulate English family life had been specially repealed +in his favour. Moore quotes with approval letters from Shelley, +stating that Lord Byron’s connection with La Guiccioli has been +of inestimable benefit to him; and that he is now becoming what he should +be, ‘a virtuous man.’ Moore goes on to speak of the +connection as one, though somewhat reprehensible, yet as having all +those advantages of marriage and settled domestic ties that Byron’s +affectionate spirit had long sighed for, but never before found; and +in his last <i>résumé</i> of the poet’s character, +at the end of the volume, he brings the</p> +<p>mistress into direct comparison with the wife in a single sentence: +‘The woman to whom he gave the love of his maturer years idolises +his name; and, with a <i>single unhappy exception</i>, scarce an instance +is to be found of one brought. . . into relations of amity with +him who did not retain a kind regard for him in life, and a fondness +for his memory.’</p> +<p>Literature has never yet seen the instance of a person, of Lady Byron’s +rank in life, placed before the world in a position more humiliating +to womanly dignity, or wounding to womanly delicacy.</p> +<p>The direct implication is, that she has no feelings to be hurt, no +heart to be broken, and is not worthy even of the consideration which +in ordinary life is to be accorded to a widow who has received those +awful tidings which generally must awaken many emotions, and call for +some consideration, even in the most callous hearts.</p> +<p>The woman who we are told walked the room, vainly striving to control +the sobs that shook her frame, while she sought to draw from the servant +that last message of her husband which she was never to hear, was not +thought worthy even of the rights of common humanity.</p> +<p>The first volume of the ‘Memoir’ came out in 1830. +Then for the first time came one flash of lightning from the silent +cloud; and she who had never spoken before spoke out. The libels +on the memory of her dead parents drew from her what her own wrongs +never did. During all this time, while her husband had been keeping +her effigy dangling before the public as a mark for solemn curses, and +filthy lampoons, and <i>secretly</i>-circulated disclosures, that spared +no sacredness and violated every decorum, she had not uttered a word. +She had been subjected to nameless insults, discussed in the assemblies +of drunkards, and challenged to speak for herself. Like the chaste +lady in ‘Comus,’ whom the vile wizard had bound in the enchanted +seat to be ‘grinned at and chattered at’ by all the filthy +rabble of his dehumanised rout, she had remained pure, lofty, and undefiled; +and the stains of mud and mire thrown upon her had fallen from her spotless +garments.</p> +<p>Now that she is dead, a recent writer in ‘The London Quarterly’ +dares give voice to an insinuation which even Byron gave only a <i>suggestion</i> +of when he called his wife Clytemnestra; and hints that she tried the +power of youth and beauty to win to her the young solicitor Lushington, +and a handsome young officer of high rank.</p> +<p>At this time, such insinuations had not been thought of; and the +only and chief allegation against Lady Byron had been a cruel severity +of virtue.</p> +<p>At all events, when Lady Byron spoke, the world listened with respect, +and believed what she said.</p> +<p>Here let us, too, read her statement, and give it the careful attention +she solicits (Moore’s ‘Life of Byron,’ vol. vi. p.275):—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I have disregarded various publications in which +facts within my own knowledge have been grossly misrepresented; but +I am called upon to notice some of the erroneous statements proceeding +from one who claims to be considered as Lord Byron’s confidential +and authorised friend. Domestic details ought not to be intruded +on the public attention: if, however, they are so intruded, the persons +affected by them have a right to refute injurious charges. Mr. +Moore has promulgated his own impressions of private events in which +I was most nearly concerned, as if he possessed a competent knowledge +of the subject. Having survived Lord Byron, I feel increased reluctance +to advert to any circumstances connected with the period of my marriage; +nor is it now my intention to disclose them further than may be indispensably +requisite for the end I have in view. Self-vindication is not +the motive which actuates me to make this appeal, and the spirit of +accusation is unmingled with it; but when the conduct of my parents +is brought forward in a disgraceful light by the passages selected from +Lord Byron’s letters, and by the remarks of his biographer, I +feel bound to justify their characters from imputations which I know +to be false. The passages from Lord Byron’s letters, to +which I refer, are,—the aspersion on my mother’s character +(p.648, l.4): <a name="citation70a"></a><a href="#footnote70a">{70a}</a> +“My child is very well and flourishing, I hear; but I must see +also. I feel no disposition to resign it to the contagion of its +grandmother’s society.” The assertion of her dishonourable +conduct in employing a spy (p.645, l.7, etc.): “A Mrs. C. (now +a kind of housekeeper and spy of Lady N’s), who, in her better +days, was a washerwoman, is supposed to be—by the learned—very +much the occult cause of our domestic discrepancies.” The +seeming exculpation of myself in the extract (p.646), with the words +immediately following it, “Her nearest relations are a—-;” +where the blank clearly implies something too offensive for publication. +These passages tend to throw suspicion on my parents, and give reason +to ascribe the separation either to their direct agency, or to that +of “officious spies” employed by them. <a name="citation70b"></a><a href="#footnote70b">{70b}</a> +From the following part of the narrative (p.642), it must also be inferred +that an undue influence was exercised by them for the accomplishment +of this purpose: “It was in a few weeks after the latter communication +between us (Lord Byron and Mr. Moore) that Lady Byron adopted the determination +of parting from him. She had left London at the latter end of +January, on a visit to her father’s house in Leicestershire; and +Lord Byron was in a short time to follow her. They had parted +in the utmost kindness, she wrote him a letter, full of playfulness +and affection, on the road; and, immediately on her arrival at Kirkby +Mallory, her father wrote to acquaint Lord Byron that she would return +to him no more.”</p> +<p>‘In my observations upon this statement, I shall, as far as +possible, avoid touching on any matters relating personally to Lord +Byron and myself. The facts are,—I left London for Kirkby +Mallory, the residence of my father and mother, on the 15th of January, +1816. Lord Byron had signified to me in writing (Jan. 6) his absolute +desire that I should leave London on the earliest day that I could conveniently +fix. It was not safe for me to undertake the fatigue of a journey +sooner than the 15th. Previously to my departure, it had been +strongly impressed on my mind that Lord Byron was under the influence +of insanity. This opinion was derived in a great measure from +the communications made to me by his nearest relatives and personal +attendant, who had more opportunities than myself of observing him during +the latter part of my stay in town. It was even represented to +me that he was in danger of destroying himself. With the concurrence +of his family, I had consulted Dr. Baillie, as a friend (Jan. 8), respecting +this supposed malady. On acquainting him with the state of the +case, and with Lord Byron’s desire that I should leave London, +Dr. Baillie thought that my absence might be advisable as an experiment, +assuming the fact of mental derangement; for Dr. Baillie, not having +had access to Lord Byron, could not pronounce a positive opinion on +that point. He enjoined that, in correspondence with Lord Byron, +I should avoid all but light and soothing topics. Under these +impressions I left London, determined to follow the advice given by +Dr. Baillie. Whatever might have been the nature of Lord Byron’s +conduct towards me from the time of my marriage, yet, supposing him +to be in a state of mental alienation, it was not for me, nor for any +person of common humanity, to manifest at that moment a sense of injury. +On the day of my departure, and again on my arrival at Kirkby (Jan. +16), I wrote to Lord Byron in a kind and cheerful tone, according to +those medical directions.</p> +<p>‘The last letter was circulated, and employed as a pretext +for the charge of my having been subsequently influenced to “desert” +<a name="citation72"></a><a href="#footnote72">{72}</a> my husband. +It has been argued that I parted from Lord Byron in perfect harmony; +that feelings incompatible with any deep sense of injury had dictated +the letter which I addressed to him; and that my sentiments must have +been changed by persuasion and interference when I was under the roof +of my parents. These assertions and inferences are wholly destitute +of foundation. When I arrived at Kirkby Mallory, my parents were +unacquainted with the existence of any causes likely to destroy my prospects +of happiness; and, when I communicated to them the opinion which had +been formed concerning Lord Byron’s state of mind, they were most +anxious to promote his restoration by every means in their power. +They assured those relations who were with him in London, that “they +would devote their whole care and attention to the alleviation of his +malady;” and hoped to make the best arrangements for his comfort +if he could be induced to visit them.</p> +<p>‘With these intentions, my mother wrote on the 17th to Lord +Byron, inviting him to Kirkby Mallory. She had always treated +him with an affectionate consideration and indulgence, which extended +to every little peculiarity of his feelings. Never did an irritating +word escape her lips in her whole intercourse with him. The accounts +given me after I left Lord Byron, by the persons in constant intercourse +with him, added to those doubts which had before transiently occurred +to my mind as to the reality of the alleged disease; and the reports +of his medical attendant were far from establishing the existence of +anything like lunacy. Under this uncertainty, I deemed it right +to communicate to my parents, that, if I were to consider Lord Byron’s +past conduct as that of a person of sound mind, nothing could induce +me to return to him. It therefore appeared expedient, both to +them and myself, to consult the ablest advisers. For that object, +and also to obtain still further information respecting the appearances +which seemed to indicate mental derangement, my mother determined to +go to London. She was empowered by me to take legal opinions on +a written statement of mine, though I had then reasons for reserving +a part of the case from the knowledge even of my father and mother. +Being convinced by the result of these inquiries, and by the tenor of +Lord Byron’s proceedings, that the notion of insanity was an illusion, +I no longer hesitated to authorise such measures as were necessary in +order to secure me from being ever again placed in his power. +Conformably with this resolution, my father wrote to him on the 2nd +of February to propose an amicable separation. Lord Byron at first +rejected this proposal; but when it was distinctly notified to him that, +if he persisted in his refusal, recourse must be had to legal measures, +he agreed to sign a deed of separation. Upon applying to Dr. Lushington, +who was intimately acquainted with all the circumstances, to state in +writing what he recollected upon this subject, I received from him the +following letter, by which it will be manifest that my mother cannot +have been actuated by any hostile or ungenerous motives towards Lord +Byron:—</p> +<p>‘“MY DEAR LADY BYRON,—I can rely upon the accuracy +of my memory for the following statement. I was originally consulted +by Lady Noel, on your behalf, whilst you were in the country. +The circumstances detailed by her were such as justified a separation; +but they were not of that aggravated description as to render such a +measure indispensable. On Lady Noel’s representation, I +deemed a reconciliation with Lord Byron practicable, and felt most sincerely +a wish to aid in effecting it. There was not on Lady Noel’s +part any exaggeration of the facts; nor, so far as I could perceive, +any determination to prevent a return to Lord Byron: certainly none +was expressed when I spoke of a reconciliation. When you came +to town, in about a fortnight, or perhaps more, after my first interview +with Lady Noel, I was for the first time informed by you of facts utterly +unknown, as I have no doubt, to Sir Ralph and Lady Noel. On receiving +this additional information, my opinion was entirely changed: I considered +a reconciliation impossible. I declared my opinion, and added, +that, if such an idea should be entertained, I could not, either professionally +or otherwise, take any part towards effecting it.</p> +<p> ‘“Believe +me, very faithfully yours,</p> +<p> ‘“STEPH. +LUSHINGTON.</p> +<p>‘“Great George Street, Jan. 31, 1830.”</p> +<p>‘I have only to observe, that, if the statements on which my +legal advisers (the late Sir Samuel Romilly and Dr. Lushington) formed +their opinions were false, the responsibility and the odium should rest +with me only. I trust that the facts which I have here briefly +recapitulated will absolve my father and mother from all accusations +with regard to the part they took in the separation between Lord Byron +and myself.</p> +<p>‘They neither originated, instigated, nor advised that separation; +and they cannot be condemned for having afforded to their daughter the +assistance and protection which she claimed. There is no other +near relative to vindicate their memory from insult. I am therefore +compelled to break the silence which I had hoped always to observe, +and to solicit from the readers of Lord Byron’s “Life” +an impartial consideration of the testimony extorted from me.</p> +<p> ‘A. +I. NOEL BYRON.</p> +<p>‘Hanger Hill, Feb. 19, 1830.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The effect of this statement on the literary world may be best judged +by the discussion of it by Christopher North (Wilson) in the succeeding +May number of ‘The Noctes,’ where the bravest and most generous +of literary men that then were—himself the husband of a gentle +wife—thus gives sentence: the conversation is between North and +the Shepherd:—</p> +<blockquote><p>North.—‘God forbid I should wound the feelings +of Lady Byron, of whose character, known to me but by the high estimation +in which it is held by all who have enjoyed her friendship, I have always +spoken with respect! . . . But may I, without harshness or indelicacy, +say, here among ourselves, James, that, by marrying Byron, she took +upon herself, with eyes wide open and conscience clearly convinced, +duties very different from those of which, even in common cases, the +presaging foresight shadows. . . the light of the first nuptial moon?’</p> +<p>Shepherd.—‘She did that, sir; by my troth, she did that.’</p> +<p> . +. . +.</p> +<p>North.—‘Miss Milbanke knew that he was reckoned a rake +and a roué; and although his genius wiped off, by impassioned +eloquence in love-letters that were felt to be irresistible, or hid +the worst stain of, that reproach, still Miss Milbanke must have believed +it a perilous thing to be the wife of Lord Byron. . . . But still, +by joining her life to his in marriage, she pledged her troth and her +faith and her love, under probabilities of severe, disturbing, perhaps +fearful trials, in the future. . . .</p> +<p>‘But I think Lady Byron ought not to have printed that Narrative. +Death abrogates not the rights of a husband to his wife’s silence +when speech is fatal. . . to his character as a man. Has she not +flung suspicion over his bones interred, that they are the bones of +a—monster? . . . If Byron’s sins or crimes—for +we are driven to use terrible terms—were unendurable and unforgivable +as if against the Holy Ghost, ought the wheel, the rack, or the stake +to have extorted that confession from his widow’s breast? . . +. But there was no such pain here, James: the declaration was +voluntary, and it was calm. Self-collected, and gathering up all +her faculties and feelings into unshrinking strength, she denounced +before all the world—and throughout all space and all time—her +husband, as excommunicated by his vices from woman’s bosom.</p> +<p> . +. . +.</p> +<p>‘’Twas to vindicate the character of her parents that +Lady Byron wrote,—a holy purpose and devout, nor do I doubt sincere. +But filial affection and reverence, sacred as they are, may be blamelessly, +nay, righteously, subordinate to conjugal duties, which die not with +the dead, are extinguished not even by the sins of the dead, were they +as foul as the grave’s corruption.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Here is what John Stuart Mill calls the literature of slavery for +woman, in length and breadth; and, that all women may understand the +doctrine, the Shepherd now takes up his parable, and expounds the true +position of the wife. We render his Scotch into English:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Not a few such widows do I know, whom brutal, +profligate, and savage husbands have brought to the brink of the grave,—as +good, as bright, as innocent as, and far more forgiving than, Lady Byron. +There they sit in their obscure, rarely-visited dwellings; for sympathy +instructed by suffering knows well that the deepest and most hopeless +misery is least given to complaint.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Then follows a pathetic picture of one such widow, trembling and +fainting for hunger, obliged, on her way to the well for a can of water, +her only drink, to sit down on a ‘<i>knowe</i>’ and say +a prayer.</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Yet she’s decently, yea, tidily dressed, +poor creature! in sair worn widow’s clothes, a single suit for +Saturday and Sunday; her hair, untimely gray, is neatly braided under +her crape cap; and sometimes, when all is still and solitary in the +fields, and all labour has disappeared into the house, you may see her +stealing by herself, or leading one wee orphan by the hand, with another +at her breast, to the kirkyard, where the love of her youth and the +husband of her prime is buried.</p> +<p>‘Yet,’ says the Shepherd, ‘he was a brute, a ruffian, +a monster. When drunk, how he raged and cursed and swore! +Often did she dread that, in his fits of inhuman passion, he would have +murdered the baby at her breast; for she had seen him dash their only +little boy, a child of eight years old, on the floor, till the blood +gushed from his ears; and then the madman threw himself down on the +body, and howled for the gallows. Limmers haunted his door, and +he theirs; and it was hers to lie, not sleep, in a cold, forsaken bed, +once the bed of peace, affection, and perfect happiness. Often +he struck her; and once when she was pregnant with that very orphan +now smiling on her breast, reaching out his wee fingers to touch the +flowers on his father’s grave. . . .</p> +<p>‘But she tries to smile among the neighbours, and speaks of +her boy’s likeness to its father; nor, when the conversation turns +on bygone times, does she fear to let his name escape her white lips, +“My Robert; the bairn’s not ill-favoured, but he will never +look like his father,”—and such sayings, uttered in a calm, +sweet voice. Nay, I remember once how her pale countenance reddened +with a sudden flush of pride, when a gossiping crone alluded to their +wedding; and the widow’s eye brightened through her tears to hear +how the bridegroom, sitting that sabbath in his front seat beside his +bonny bride, had not his equal for strength, stature, and all that is +beauty in man, in all the congregation. That, I say, sir, whether +right or wrong, was—forgiveness.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Here is a specimen of how even generous men had been so perverted +by the enchantment of Lord Byron’s genius, as to turn all the +pathos and power of the strongest literature of that day against the +persecuted, pure woman, and for the strong, wicked man. These +‘Blackwood’ writers knew, by Byron’s own filthy, ghastly +writings, which had gone sorely against their own moral stomachs, that +he was foul to the bone. They could see, in Moore’s ‘Memoirs’ +right before them, how he had caught an innocent girl’s heart +by sending a love-letter, and offer of marriage, at the end of a long +friendly correspondence,—a letter that had been written to <i>show</i> +to his libertine set, and sent on the toss-up of a copper, because he +cared nothing for it one way or the other.</p> +<p>They admit that, having won this poor girl, he had been savage, brutal, +drunken, cruel. They had read the filthy taunts in ‘Don +Juan,’ and the nameless abominations in the ‘Autobiography.’ +They had admitted among themselves that his honour was lost; but still +this abused, desecrated woman must <i>reverence</i> her brutal master’s +memory, and not speak, even to defend the grave of her own kind father +and mother.</p> +<p>That there was <i>no</i> lover of her youth, that the marriage-vow +had been a hideous, shameless cheat, is on the face of Moore’s +account; yet the ‘Blackwood’ does not see it nor feel it, +and brings up against Lady Byron this touching story of a poor widow, +who really had had a true lover once,—a lover maddened, imbruted, +lost, through that very drunkenness in which the Noctes Club were always +glorying.</p> +<p>It is because of such transgressors as Byron, such supporters as +Moore and the Noctes Club, that there are so many helpless, cowering, +broken-hearted, abject women, given over to the animal love which they +share alike with the poor dog,—the dog, who, beaten, kicked, starved, +and cuffed, still lies by his drunken master with great anxious eyes +of love and sorrow, and with sweet, brute forgiveness nestles upon his +bosom, as he lies in his filth in the snowy ditch, to keep the warmth +of life in him. Great is the mystery of this fidelity in the poor, +loving brute,—most mournful and most sacred</p> +<p>But, oh that a noble man should have no higher ideal of the love +of a high-souled, heroic woman! Oh that men should teach women +that they owe no higher duties, and are capable of no higher tenderness, +than this loving, unquestioning animal fidelity! The dog is ever-loving, +ever-forgiving, because God has given him no high range of moral faculties, +no sense of justice, no consequent horror at impurity and vileness.</p> +<p>Much of the beautiful patience and forgiveness of women is made possible +to them by that utter <i>deadness to the sense of justice</i> which +the laws, literature, and misunderstood religion of England have sought +to induce in woman as a special grace and virtue.</p> +<p>The lesson to woman in this pathetic piece of special pleading is, +that man may sink himself below the brute, may wallow in filth like +the swine, may turn his home into a hell, beat and torture his children, +forsake the marriage-bed for foul rivals; yet all this does <i>not</i> +dissolve the marriage-vow on her part, nor free his bounden serf from +her obligation to honour his memory,—nay, to sacrifice to it the +honour due to a kind father and mother, slandered in their silent graves.</p> +<p>Such was the sympathy, and such the advice, that the best literature +of England could give to a young widow, a peeress of England, whose +husband, as they verily believed and admitted, might have done <i>worse</i> +than all this; whose crimes might have been ‘foul, monstrous, +unforgivable as the sin against the Holy Ghost.’ If these +things be done in the green tree, what shall be done in the dry? +If the peeress as <i>a wife</i> has no rights, what is the state of +the cotter’s wife?</p> +<p>But, in the same paper, North again blames Lady Byron for not having +come out with the whole story before the world at the time she separated +from her husband. He says of the time when she first consulted +counsel through her mother, keeping back one item,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘How weak, and worse than weak, at such a juncture, +on which hung her whole fate, to ask legal advice on an imperfect document! +Give the delicacy of a virtuous woman its due; but at such a crisis, +when the question was whether her conscience was to be free from the +oath of oaths, delicacy should have died, and nature was privileged +to show unashamed—if such there were—the records of uttermost +pollution.’</p> +<p>Shepherd.—‘And what think ye, sir, that a’ this +pollution could hae been, that sae electrified Dr. Lushington?’</p> +<p>North.—‘Bad—bad—bad, James. Nameless, +it is horrible; named, it might leave Byron’s memory yet within +the range of pity and forgiveness; and, where they are, their sister +affections will not be far; though, like weeping seraphs, standing aloof, +and veiling their wings.’</p> +<p>Shepherd.—‘She should indeed hae been silent—till +the grave had closed on her sorrows as on his sins.’</p> +<p>North.—‘Even now she should speak,—or some one +else for her,— . . . and a few words will suffice. Worse +the condition of the dead man’s name cannot be—far, far +better it might—I believe it would be—were all the truth +somehow or other declared; and declared it must be, not for Byron’s +sake only, but for the sake of humanity itself; and then a mitigated +sentence, or eternal silence.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We have another discussion of Lady Byron’s duties in a further +number of ‘Blackwood.’</p> +<p>The ‘Memoir’ being out, it was proposed that there should +be a complete annotation of Byron’s works gotten up, and adorned, +for the further glorification of his memory, with portraits of the various +women whom he had delighted to honour.</p> +<p>Murray applied to Lady Byron for her portrait, and was met with a +cold, decided negative. After reading all the particulars of Byron’s +harem of mistresses, and Moore’s comparisons between herself and +La Guiccioli, one might <i>imagine</i> reasons why a lady, with proper +self-respect, should object to appearing in this manner. One would +suppose there might have been gentlemen who could well appreciate the +<i>motive</i> of that refusal; but it was only considered a new evidence +that she was indifferent to her conjugal duties, and wanting in that +<i>respect</i> which Christopher North had told her she owed a husband’s +memory, though his crimes were foul as the rottenness of the grave.</p> +<p>Never, since Queen Vashti refused to come at the command of a drunken +husband to show herself to his drunken lords, was there a clearer case +of disrespect to the marital dignity on the part of a wife. It +was a plain act of insubordination, rebellion against law and order; +and how shocking in Lady Byron, who ought to feel herself but too much +flattered to be exhibited to the public as the head wife of a man of +genius!</p> +<p>Means were at once adopted to subdue her contumacy, of which one +may read in a note to the ‘Blackwood’ (Noctes), September +1832. An artist was sent down to Ealing to take her picture by +stealth as she sat in church. Two sittings were thus obtained +without her knowledge. In the third one, the artist placed himself +boldly before her, and sketched, so that she could not but observe him. +We shall give the rest in Mackenzie’s own words, as a remarkable +specimen of the obtuseness, not to say indelicacy of feeling, which +seemed to pervade the literary circles of England at the time:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘After prayers, Wright and his friend (the artist) +were visited by an ambassador from her ladyship to inquire the meaning +of what she had seen. The reply was, that Mr. Murray must have +her portrait, and was compelled to take what she refused to give. +The result was, Wright was requested to visit her, which he did; taking +with him, not the sketch, which was very good, but another, in which +there was a strong touch of caricature. Rather than allow that +to appear as her likeness (a very natural and womanly feeling by the +way), she consented to sit for the portrait to W. J. Newton, which was +engraved, and is here alluded to.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The artless barbarism of this note is too good to be lost; but it +is quite borne out by the conversation in the Noctes Club, which it +illustrates.</p> +<p>It would appear from this conversation that these Byron beauties +appeared successively in pamphlet form; and the picture of Lady Byron +is thus discussed:—</p> +<blockquote><p>Mullion.—‘I don’t know if you have +seen the last brochure. It has a charming head of Lady Byron, +who, it seems, sat on purpose: and that’s very agreeable to hear +of; for it shows her ladyship has got over any little soreness that +Moore’s “Life” occasioned, and is now willing to contribute +anything in her power to the real monument of Byron’s genius.’</p> +<p>North.—‘I am delighted to hear of this: ’tis really +very noble in the unfortunate lady. I never saw her. Is +the face a striking one?’</p> +<p>Mullion.—‘Eminently so,—a most calm, pensive, melancholy +style of native beauty,—and a most touching contrast to the maids +of Athens, Annesley, and all the rest of them. I’m sure +you’ll have the proof Finden has sent you framed for the Boudoir +at the Lodge.’</p> +<p>North.—‘By all means. I mean to do that for all +the Byron Beauties.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But it may be asked, Was there not a man in all England with delicacy +enough to feel for Lady Byron, and chivalry enough to speak a bold word +for her? Yes: there was one. Thomas Campbell the poet, when +he read Lady Byron’s statement, believed it, as did Christopher +North; but it affected him differently. It appears he did not +believe it a wife’s duty to burn herself on her husband’s +funeral-pile, as did Christopher North; and held the singular idea, +that a wife had some rights as a human being as well as a husband.</p> +<p>Lady Byron’s own statement appeared in pamphlet form in 1830: +at least, such is the date at the foot of the document. Thomas +Campbell, in ‘The New Monthly Magazine,’ shortly after, +printed a spirited, gentlemanly defence of Lady Byron, and administered +a pointed rebuke to Moore for the rudeness and indelicacy he had shown +in selecting from Byron’s letters the coarsest against herself, +her parents, and her old governess Mrs. Clermont, and by the indecent +comparisons he had instituted between Lady Byron and Lord Byron’s +last mistress.</p> +<p>It is refreshing to hear, at last, from somebody who is not altogether +on his knees at the feet of the popular idol, and who has some chivalry +for woman, and some idea of common humanity. He says,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I found my right to speak on this painful subject +on its now irrevocable publicity, brought up afresh as it has been by +Mr. Moore, to be the theme of discourse to millions, and, if I err not +much, the cause of misconception to innumerable minds. I claim +to speak of Lady Byron in the right of a man, and of a friend to the +rights of woman, and to liberty, and to natural religion. I claim +a right, more especially, as one of the many friends of Lady Byron, +who, one and all, feel aggrieved by this production. It has virtually +dragged her forward from the shade of retirement, where she had hid +her sorrows, and compelled her to defend the heads of her friends and +her parents from being crushed under the tombstone of Byron. Nay, +in a general view, it has forced her to defend herself; though, with +her true sense and her pure taste, she stands above all special pleading. +To plenary explanation she ought not—she never shall be driven. +Mr. Moore is too much a gentleman not to shudder at the thought of that; +but if other Byronists, of a far different stamp, were to force the +savage ordeal, it is her enemies, and not she, that would have to dread +the burning ploughshares.</p> +<p>‘We, her friends, have no wish to prolong the discussion: but +a few words we must add, even to her admirable statement; for hers is +a cause not only dear to her friends, but having become, from Mr. Moore +and her misfortunes, a publicly-agitated cause, it concerns morality, +and the most sacred rights of the sex, that she should (and that, too, +without more special explanations) be acquitted out and out, and honourably +acquitted, in this business, of all share in the blame, which is one +and indivisible. Mr. Moore, on further reflection, may see this; +and his return to candour will surprise us less than his momentary deviation +from its path.</p> +<p>‘For the tact of Mr. Moore’s conduct in this affair, +I have not to answer; but, if indelicacy be charged upon me, I scorn +the charge. Neither will I submit to be called Lord Byron’s +accuser; because a word against him I wish not to say beyond what is +painfully wrung from me by the necessity of owning or illustrating Lady +Byron’s unblamableness, and of repelling certain misconceptions +respecting her, which are now walking the fashionable world, and which +have been fostered (though Heaven knows where they were born) most delicately +and warily by the Christian godfathership of Mr. Moore.</p> +<p>‘I write not at Lady Byron’s bidding. I have never +humiliated either her or myself by asking if I should write, or what +I should write; that is to say, I never applied to her for information +against Lord Byron, though I was justified, as one intending to criticise +Mr. Moore, in inquiring into the truth of some of his statements. +Neither will I suffer myself to be called her champion, if by that word +be meant the advocate of her mere legal innocence; for that, I take +it, nobody questions.</p> +<p>‘Still less is it from the sorry impulse of pity that I speak +of this noble woman; for I look with wonder and even envy at the proud +purity of her sense and conscience, that have carried her exquisite +sensibilities in triumph through such poignant tribulations. But +I am proud to be called her friend, the humble illustrator of her cause, +and the advocate of those principles which make it to me more interesting +than Lord Byron’s. Lady Byron (if the subject must be discussed) +belongs to sentiment and morality (at least as much as Lord Byron); +nor is she to be suffered, when compelled to speak, to raise her voice +as in a desert, with no friendly voice to respond to her. Lady +Byron could not have outlived her sufferings if she had not wound up +her fortitude to the high point of trusting mainly for consolation, +not to the opinion of the world, but to her own inward peace; and, having +said what ought to convince the world, I verily believe that she has +less care about the fashionable opinion respecting her than any of her +friends can have. But we, her friends, mix with the world; and +we hear offensive absurdities about her, which we have a right to put +down.</p> +<p> . +. . +.</p> +<p>‘I proceed to deal more generally with Mr. Moore’s book. +You speak, Mr. Moore, against Lord Byron’s censurers in a tone +of indignation which is perfectly lawful towards calumnious traducers, +but which will not terrify me, or any other man of courage who is no +calumniator, from uttering his mind freely with regard to this part +of your hero’s conduct. I question your philosophy in assuming +that all that is noble in Byron’s poetry was inconsistent with +the possibility of his being devoted to a pure and good woman; and I +repudiate your morality for canting too complacently about “the +lava of his imagination,” and the unsettled fever of his passions, +being any excuses for his planting the tic douloureux of domestic suffering +in a meek woman’s bosom.</p> +<p>‘These are hard words, Mr. Moore; but you have brought them +on yourself by your voluntary ignorance of facts known to me; for you +might and ought to have known both sides of the question; and, if the +subject was too delicate for you to consult Lady Byron’s confidential +friends, you ought to have had nothing to do with the subject. +But you cannot have submitted your book even to Lord Byron’s sister, +otherwise she would have set you right about the imaginary spy, Mrs. +Clermont.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Campbell now goes on to print, at his own peril, he says, and without +time to ask leave, the following note from Lady Byron in reply to an +application he made to her, when he was about to review Moore’s +book, for an ‘estimate as to the correctness of Moore’s +statements.’</p> +<p>The following is Lady Byron’s reply:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘DEAR MR. CAMPBELL,—In taking up my pen to +point out for your private information <a name="citation86"></a><a href="#footnote86">{86}</a> +those passages in Mr. Moore’s representation of my part of the +story which were open to contradiction, I find them of still greater +extent than I had supposed; and to deny an assertion here and there +would virtually admit the truth of the rest. If, on the contrary, +I were to enter into a full exposure of the falsehood of the views taken +by Mr. Moore, I must detail various matters, which, consistently with +my principles and feelings, I cannot under the existing circumstances +disclose. I may, perhaps, convince you better of the difficulty +of the case by an example: It is not true that pecuniary embarrassments +were the cause of the disturbed state of Lord Byron’s mind, or +formed the chief reason for the arrangements made by him at that time. +But is it reasonable for me to expect that you or any one else should +believe this, unless I show you what were the causes in question? and +this I cannot do.</p> +<p> ‘I +am, etc.,</p> +<p> ‘A. +I. NOEL BYRON.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Campbell then goes on to reprove Moore for his injustice to Mrs. +Clermont, whom Lord Byron had denounced as a spy, but whose respectability +and innocence were vouched for by Lord Byron’s own family; and +then he pointedly rebukes one false statement of great indelicacy and +cruelty concerning Lady Byron’s courtship, as follows:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘It is a further mistake on Mr. Moore’s part, +and I can prove it to be so, if proof be necessary, to represent Lady +Byron, in the course of their courtship, as one inviting her future +husband to correspondence by letters after she had at first refused +him. She never proposed a correspondence. On the contrary, +he sent her a message after that first refusal, stating that he meant +to go abroad, and to travel for some years in the East; that he should +depart with a heart aching, but not angry; and that he only begged a +verbal assurance that she had still some interest in his happiness. +Could Miss Milbanke, as a well-bred woman, refuse a courteous answer +to such a message? She sent him a verbal answer, which was merely +kind and becoming, but which signified no encouragement that he should +renew his offer of marriage.</p> +<p>‘After that message, he wrote to her a most interesting letter +about himself,—about his views, personal, moral, and religious,—to +which it would have been uncharitable not to have replied. The +result was an insensibly increasing correspondence, which ended in her +being devotedly attached to him. About that time, I occasionally +saw Lord Byron; and though I knew less of him than Mr. Moore, yet I +suspect I knew as much of him as Miss Milbanke then knew. At that +time, he was so pleasing, that, if I had had a daughter with ample fortune +and beauty, I should have trusted her in marriage with Lord Byron.</p> +<p>‘Mr. Moore at that period evidently understood Lord Byron better +than either his future bride or myself; but this speaks more for Moore’s +shrewdness than for Byron’s ingenuousness of character.</p> +<p>‘It is more for Lord Byron’s sake than for his widow’s +that I resort not to a more special examination of Mr. Moore’s +misconceptions. The subject would lead me insensibly into hateful +disclosures against poor Lord Byron, who is more unfortunate in his +rash defenders than in his reluctant accusers. Happily, his own +candour turns our hostility from himself against his defenders. +It was only in wayward and bitter remarks that he misrepresented Lady +Byron. He would have defended himself irresistibly if Mr. Moore +had left only his acknowledging passages. But Mr. Moore has produced +a “Life” of him which reflects blame on Lady Byron so dexterously, +that “more is meant than meets the ear.” The almost +universal impression produced by his book is, that Lady Byron must be +a precise and a wan, unwarming spirit, a blue-stocking of chilblained +learning, a piece of insensitive goodness.</p> +<p>‘Who that knows Lady Byron will not pronounce her to be everything +the reverse? Will it be believed that this person, so unsuitably +matched to her moody lord, has written verses that would do no discredit +to Byron himself; that her sensitiveness is surpassed and bounded only +by her good sense; and that she is</p> +<p>‘“Blest with a temper, whose unclouded ray<br /> +Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day”?</p> +<p>‘She brought to Lord Byron beauty, manners, fortune, meekness, +romantic affection, and everything that ought to have made her to the +most transcendent man of genius—had he been what he should have +been—his pride and his idol. I speak not of Lady Byron in +the commonplace manner of attesting character: I appeal to the gifted +Mrs. Siddons and Joanna Baillie, to Lady Charlemont, and to other ornaments +of their sex, whether I am exaggerating in the least when I say, that, +in their whole lives, they have seen few beings so intellectual and +well-tempered as Lady Byron.</p> +<p>‘I wish to be as ingenuous as possible in speaking of her. +Her manner, I have no hesitation to say, is cool at the first interview, +but is modestly, and not insolently, cool: she contracted it, I believe, +from being exposed by her beauty and large fortune, in youth, to numbers +of suitors, whom she could not have otherwise kept at a distance. +But this manner could have had no influence with Lord Byron; for it +vanishes on nearer acquaintance, and has no origin in coldness. +All her friends like her frankness the better for being preceded by +this reserve. This manner, however, though not the slightest apology +for Lord Byron, has been inimical to Lady Byron in her misfortunes. +It endears her to her friends; but it piques the indifferent. +Most odiously unjust, therefore, is Mr. Moore’s assertion, that +she has had the advantage of Lord Byron in public opinion. She +is, comparatively speaking, unknown to the world; for though she has +many friends, that is, a friend in everyone who knows her, yet her pride +and purity and misfortunes naturally contract the circle of her acquaintance.</p> +<p>‘There is something exquisitely unjust in Mr. Moore comparing +her chance of popularity with Lord Byron’s, the poet who can command +men of talents,—putting even Mr. Moore into the livery of his +service,—and who has suborned the favour of almost all women by +the beauty of his person and the voluptuousness of his verses. +Lady Byron has nothing to oppose to these fascinations but the truth +and justice of her cause.</p> +<p>‘You said, Mr. Moore, that Lady Byron was unsuitable to her +lord: the word is cunningly insidious, and may mean as much or as little +as may suit your convenience. But, if she was unsuitable, I remark +that it tells all the worse against Lord Byron. I have not read +it in your book (for I hate to wade through it); but they tell me that +you have not only warily depreciated Lady Byron, but that you have described +a lady that would have suited him. If this be true, “it +is the unkindest cut of all,”—to hold up a florid description +of a woman suitable to Lord Byron, as if in mockery over the forlorn +flower of virtue that was drooping in the solitude of sorrow.</p> +<p>‘But I trust there is no such passage in your book. Surely +you must be conscious of your woman, with her ‘virtue loose about +her, who would have suited Lord Byron,” to be as imaginary a being +as the woman without a head. A woman to suit Lord Byron! +Poo, poo! I could paint to you the woman that could have matched +him, if I had not bargained to say as little as possible against him.</p> +<p>‘If Lady Byron was not suitable to Lord Byron, so much the +worse for his lordship; for let me tell you, Mr. Moore, that neither +your poetry, nor Lord Byron’s, nor all our poetry put together, +ever delineated a more interesting being than the woman whom you have +so coldly treated. This was not kicking the dead lion, but wounding +the living lamb, who was already bleeding and shorn, even unto the quick. +I know, that, collectively speaking, the world is in Lady Byron’s +favour; but it is coldly favourable, and you have not warmed its breath. +Time, however, cures everything; and even your book, Mr. Moore, may +be the means of Lady Byron’s character being better appreciated.</p> +<p> ‘THOMAS +CAMPBELL.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Here is what seems to be a gentlemanly, high-spirited, chivalric +man, throwing down his glove in the lists for a pure woman.</p> +<p>What was the consequence? Campbell was crowded back, thrust +down, overwhelmed, his eyes filled with dust, his mouth with ashes.</p> +<p>There was a general confusion and outcry, which reacted both on him +and on Lady Byron. Her friends were angry with him for having +caused this re-action upon her; and he found himself at once attacked +by Lady Byron’s enemies, and deserted by her friends. All +the literary authorities of his day took up against him with energy. +Christopher North, professor of moral philosophy in the Edinburgh University, +in a fatherly talk in ‘The Noctes,’ condemns Campbell, and +justifies Moore, and heartily recommends his ‘Biography,’ +as containing nothing materially objectionable on the score either of +manners or morals. Thus we have it in ‘The Noctes’ +of May 1830:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Mr. Moore’s biographical book I admired; +and I said so to my little world, in two somewhat lengthy articles, +which many approved, and some, I am sorry to know, condemned.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>On the point in question between Moore and Campbell, North goes on +to justify Moore altogether, only admitting that ‘it would have +been better had he not printed any coarse expression of Byron’s +about the old people;’ and, finally, he closes by saying,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I do not think that, under the circumstances, +Mr. Campbell himself, had he written Byron’s “Life,” +could have spoken, with the sentiments he then held, in a better, more +manly, and more gentlemanly spirit, in so far as regards Lady Byron, +than Mr. Moore did: and I am sorry he has been deterred from “swimming” +through Mr. Moore’s work by the fear of “wading;” +for the waters are clear and deep; nor is there any mud, either at the +bottom or round the margin.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Of the conduct of Lady Byron’s so-called friends on this occasion +it is more difficult to speak.</p> +<p>There has always been in England, as John Stuart Mill says, a class +of women who glory in the utter self-abnegation of the wife to the husband, +as the special crown of womanhood. Their patron saint is the Griselda +of Chaucer, who, when her husband humiliates her, and treats her as +a brute, still accepts all with meek, unquestioning, uncomplaining devotion. +He tears her from her children; he treats her with personal abuse; he +repudiates her,—sends her out to nakedness and poverty; he installs +another mistress in his house, and sends for the first to be her handmaid +and his own: and all this the meek saint accepts in the words of Milton,—</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘My guide and head,<br /> +What thou hast said is just and right.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Accordingly, Miss Martineau tells us that when Campbell’s defence +came out, coupled with a note from Lady Byron,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The first obvious remark was, that there was no +real disclosure; and the whole affair had the appearance of a desire, +on the part of Lady Byron, to exculpate herself, while yet no adequate +information was given. Many, who had regarded her with favour +till then, gave her up so far as to believe that feminine weakness had +prevailed at last.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The saint had fallen from her pedestal! She had shown a human frailty! +Quite evidently she is not a Griselda, but possessed with a shocking +desire to exculpate herself and her friends.</p> +<p>Is it, then, only to slandered <i>men</i> that the privilege belongs +of desiring to exculpate themselves and their families and their friends +from unjust censure?</p> +<p>Lord Byron had made it a life-long object to vilify and defame his +wife. He had used for that one particular purpose every talent +that he possessed. He had left it as a last charge to Moore to +pursue the warfare after death, which Moore had done to some purpose; +and Christopher North had informed Lady Byron that her private affairs +were discussed, not only with the whisky-toddy of the Noctes Club, but +in every drawing-room in May Fair; and declared that the ‘Dear +Duck’ letter, and various other matters, must be explained, and +urged somebody to speak; and then, when Campbell does speak with all +the energy of a real gentleman, a general outcry and an indiscriminate +<i>mêlée</i> is the result.</p> +<p>The world, with its usual injustice, insisted on attributing Campbell’s +defence to Lady Byron.</p> +<p>The reasons for this seemed to be, first, that Campbell states that +he did <i>not</i> ask Lady Byron’s leave, and that she did <i>not</i> +authorise him to defend her; and, second, that, having asked some explanations +from her, he prints a note in which she declines to give any.</p> +<p>We know not how a lady could more gently yet firmly decline to make +a gentleman her confidant than in this published note of Lady Byron; +and yet, to this day, Campbell is spoken of by the world as having been +Lady Byron’s confidant at this time. This simply shows how +very trustworthy are the general assertions about Lady Byron’s +confidants.</p> +<p>The final result of the matter, so far as Campbell was concerned, +is given in Miss Martineau’s sketch, in the following paragraph:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The whole transaction was one of poor Campbell’s +freaks. He excused himself by saying it was a mistake of his; +that he did not know what he was about when he published the paper.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is the saddest of all sad things to see a man, who has spoken +from moral convictions, in advance of his day, and who has taken a stand +for which he ought to honour himself, thus forced down and humiliated, +made to doubt his own better nature and his own honourable feelings, +by the voice of a wicked world.</p> +<p>Campbell had no steadiness to stand by the truth he saw. His +whole story is told incidentally in a note to ‘The Noctes,’ +in which it is stated, that in an article in ‘Blackwood,’ +January 1825, on Scotch poets, the palm was given to Hogg over Campbell; +‘one ground being, that <i>he</i> could drink “eight and +twenty tumblers of punch, while Campbell is hazy upon seven.”’</p> +<p>There is evidence in ‘The Noctes,’ that in due time Campbell +was reconciled to Moore, and was always suitably ashamed of having tried +to be any more generous or just than the men of his generation.</p> +<p>And so it was settled as a law to Jacob, and an ordinance in Israel, +that the Byron worship should proceed, and that all the earth should +keep silence before him. ‘Don Juan,’ that, years before, +had been printed by stealth, without Murray’s name on the title-page, +that had been denounced as a book which no woman should read, and had +been given up as a desperate enterprise, now came forth in triumph, +with banners flying and drums beating. Every great periodical +in England that had fired moral volleys of artillery against it in its +early days, now humbly marched in the glorious procession of admirers +to salute this edifying work of genius.</p> +<p>‘Blackwood,’ which in the beginning had been the most +indignantly virtuous of the whole, now grovelled and ate dust as the +serpent in the very abjectness of submission. Odoherty (Maginn) +declares that he would rather have written a page of ‘Don Juan’ +than a ton of ‘Childe Harold.’ <a name="citation95a"></a><a href="#footnote95a">{95a}</a> +Timothy Tickler informs Christopher North that he means to tender Murray, +as Emperor of the North, an interleaved copy <a name="citation95b"></a><a href="#footnote95b">{95b}</a> +of ‘Don Juan,’ with illustrations, as the <i>only</i> work +of Byron’s he cares much about; and Christopher North, professor +of <i>moral</i> philosophy in Edinburgh, smiles approval! We are +not, after this, surprised to see the assertion, by a recent much-aggrieved +writer in ‘The London Era,’ that ‘Lord Byron has been, +more than any other man of the age, the <i>teacher</i> of the <i>youth</i> +of England;’ and that he has ‘seen his works on the bookshelves +of <i>bishops’</i> palaces, no less than on the tables of university +undergraduates.’</p> +<p>A note to ‘The Noctes’ of July 1822 informs us of another +instance of Lord Byron’s triumph over English morals:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The mention of this’ (Byron’s going +to Greece) ‘reminds me, by the by, of what the Guiccioli said +in her visit to London, where she was so lionised as having been the +lady-love of Byron. She was rather fond of speaking on the subject, +designating herself by some Venetian pet phrase, which she interpreted +as meaning “Love-Wife.”’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>What was Lady Byron to do in such a world? She retired to the +deepest privacy, and devoted herself to works of charity, and the education +of her only child, that brilliant daughter, to whose eager, opening +mind the whole course of current literature must bring so many trying +questions in regard to the position of her father and mother,—questions +that the mother might not answer. That the cruel inconsiderateness +of the literary world added thorns to the intricacies of the path trodden +by every mother who seeks to guide, restrain, and educate a strong, +acute, and precociously intelligent child, must easily be seen.</p> +<p>What remains to be said of Lady Byron’s life shall be said +in the words of Miss Martineau, published in ‘The Atlantic Monthly:’—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Her life, thenceforth, was one of unremitting +bounty to society administered with as much skill and prudence as benevolence. +She lived in retirement, changing her abode frequently; partly for the +benefit of her child’s education and the promotion of her benevolent +schemes, and partly from a restlessness which was one of the few signs +of injury received from the spoiling of associations with home.</p> +<p>‘She felt a satisfaction which her friends rejoiced in when +her daughter married Lord King, at present the Earl of Lovelace, in +1835; and when grief upon grief followed, in the appearance of mortal +disease in her only child, her quiet patience stood her in good stead +as before. She even found strength to appropriate the blessings +of the occasion, and took comfort, as did her dying daughter, in the +intimate friendship, which grew closer as the time of parting drew nigh.</p> +<p>‘Lady Lovelace died in 1852; and, for her few remaining years, +Lady Byron was devoted to her grandchildren. But nearer calls +never lessened her interest in remoter objects. Her mind was of +the large and clear quality which could comprehend remote interests +in their true proportions, and achieve each aim as perfectly as if it +were the only one. Her agents used to say that it was impossible +to mistake her directions; and thus her business was usually well done. +There was no room, in her case, for the ordinary doubts, censures, and +sneers about the misapplication of bounty.</p> +<p>‘Her taste did not lie in the “Charity-Ball” direction; +her funds were not lavished in encouraging hypocrisy and improvidence +among the idle and worthless; and the quality of her charity was, in +fact, as admirable as its quantity. Her chief aim was the extension +and improvement of popular education; but there was no kind of misery +that she heard of that she did not palliate to the utmost, and no kind +of solace that her quick imagination and sympathy could devise that +she did not administer.</p> +<p>‘In her methods, she united consideration and frankness with +singular success. For one instance among a thousand: A lady with +whom she had had friendly relations some time before, and who became +impoverished in a quiet way by hopeless sickness, preferred poverty +with an easy conscience to a competency attended by some uncertainty +about the perfect rectitude of the resource. Lady Byron wrote +to an intermediate person exactly what she thought of the case. +Whether the judgment of the sufferer was right or mistaken was nobody’s +business but her own: this was the first point. Next, a voluntary +poverty could never be pitied by anybody: that was the second. +But it was painful to others to think of the mortification to benevolent +feelings which attends poverty; and there could be no objection to arresting +that pain. Therefore she, Lady Byron, had lodged in a neighbouring +bank the sum of one hundred pounds, to be used for benevolent purposes; +and, in order to preclude all outside speculation, she had made the +money payable to the order of the intermediate person, so that the sufferer’s +name need not appear at all.</p> +<p>‘Five and thirty years of unremitting secret bounty like this +must make up a great amount of human happiness; but this was only one +of a wide variety of methods of doing good. It was the unconcealable +magnitude of her beneficence, and its wise quality, which made her a +second time the theme of English conversation in all honest households +within the four seas. Years ago, it was said far and wide that +Lady Byron was doing more good than anybody else in England; and it +was difficult to imagine how anybody could do more.</p> +<p>‘Lord Byron spent every shilling that the law allowed him out +of her property while he lived, and left away from her every shilling +that he could deprive her of by his will; yet she had, eventually, a +large income at her command. In the management of it, she showed +the same wise consideration that marked all her practical decisions. +She resolved to spend her whole income, seeing how much the world needed +help at the moment. Her care was for the existing generation, +rather than for a future one, which would have its own friends. +She usually declined trammelling herself with annual subscriptions to +charities; preferring to keep her freedom from year to year, and to +achieve definite objects by liberal bounty, rather than to extend partial +help over a large surface which she could not herself superintend.</p> +<p>‘It was her first industrial school that awakened the admiration +of the public, which had never ceased to take an interest in her, while +sorely misjudging her character. We hear much now—and everybody +hears it with pleasure—of the spread of education in “common +things;” but long before Miss Coutts inherited her wealth, long +before a name was found for such a method of training, Lady Byron had +instituted the thing, and put it in the way of making its own name.</p> +<p>‘She was living at Ealing, in Middlesex, in 1834; and there +she opened one of the first industrial schools in England, if not the +very first. She sent out a master to Switzerland, to be instructed +in De Fellenburgh’s method. She took, on lease, five acres +of land, and spent several hundred pounds in rendering the buildings +upon it fit for the purposes of the school. A liberal education +was afforded to the children of artisans and labourers during the half +of the day when they were not employed in the field or garden. +The allotments were rented by the boys, who raised and sold produce, +which afforded them a considerable yearly profit if they were good workmen. +Those who worked in the field earned wages; their labour being paid +by the hour, according to the capability of the young labourer. +They kept their accounts of expenditure and receipts, and acquired good +habits of business while learning the occupation of their lives. +Some mechanical trades were taught, as well as the arts of agriculture.</p> +<p>‘Part of the wisdom of the management lay in making the pupils +pay. Of one hundred pupils, half were boarders. They paid +little more than half the expenses of their maintenance, and the day-scholars +paid threepence per week. Of course, a large part of the expense +was borne by Lady Byron, besides the payments she made for children +who could not otherwise have entered the school. The establishment +flourished steadily till 1852, when the owner of the land required it +back for building purposes. During the eighteen years that the +Ealing schools were in action, they did a world of good in the way of +incitement and example. The poor-law commissioners pointed out +their merits. Land-owners and other wealthy persons visited them, +and went home and set up similar establishments. During those +years, too, Lady Byron had herself been at work in various directions +to the same purpose.</p> +<p>‘A more extensive industrial scheme was instituted on her Leicestershire +property, and not far off she opened a girls’ school and an infant +school; and when a season of distress came, as such seasons are apt +to befall the poor Leicestershire stocking-weavers, Lady Byron fed the +children for months together, till they could resume their payments. +These schools were opened in 1840. The next year, she built a +schoolhouse on her Warwickshire property; and, five years later, she +set up an iron schoolhouse on another Leicestershire estate.</p> +<p>‘By this time, her educational efforts were costing her several +hundred pounds a year in the mere maintenance of existing establishments; +but this is the smallest consideration in the case. She has sent +out tribes of boys and girls into life fit to do their part there with +skill and credit and comfort. Perhaps it is a still more important +consideration, that scores of teachers and trainers have been led into +their vocation, and duly prepared for it, by what they saw and learned +in her schools. As for the best and the worst of the Ealing boys, +the best have, in a few cases, been received into the Battersea Training +School, whence they could enter on their career as teachers to the greatest +advantage; and the worst found their school a true reformatory, before +reformatory schools were heard of. At Bristol, she bought a house +for a reformatory for girls; and there her friend, Miss Carpenter, faithfully +and energetically carries out her own and Lady Byron’s aims, which +were one and the same.</p> +<p>‘There would be no end if I were to catalogue the schemes of +which these are a specimen. It is of more consequence to observe +that her mind was never narrowed by her own acts, as the minds of benevolent +people are so apt to be. To the last, her interest in great political +movements, at home and abroad, was as vivid as ever. She watched +every step won in philosophy, every discovery in science, every token +of social change and progress in every shape. Her mind was as +liberal as her heart and hand. No diversity of opinion troubled +her: she was respectful to every sort of individuality, and indulgent +to all constitutional peculiarities. It must have puzzled those +who kept up the notion of her being “strait-laced” to see +how indulgent she was even to Epicurean tendencies,—the remotest +of all from her own.</p> +<p>‘But I must stop; for I do not wish my honest memorial to degenerate +into panegyric. Among her latest known acts were her gifts to +the Sicilian cause, and her manifestations on behalf of the antislavery +cause in the United States. Her kindness to William and Ellen +Craft must be well known there; and it is also related in the newspapers, +that she bequeathed a legacy to a young American to assist him under +any disadvantages he might suffer as an abolitionist.</p> +<p>‘All these deeds were done under a heavy burden of ill health. +Before she had passed middle life, her lungs were believed to be irreparably +injured by partial ossification. She was subject to attacks so +serious, that each one, for many years, was expected to be the last. +She arranged her affairs in correspondence with her liabilities: so +that the same order would have been found, whether she died suddenly +or after long warning.</p> +<p>‘She was to receive one more accession of outward greatness +before she departed. She became Baroness Wentworth in November, +1856. This is one of the facts of her history; but it is the least +interesting to us, as probably to her. We care more to know that +her last days were bright in honour, and cheered by the attachment of +old friends worthy to pay the duty she deserved. Above all, it +is consoling to know that she who so long outlived her only child was +blessed with the unremitting and tender care of her grand-daughter. +She died on the 16th of May, 1860.</p> +<p>‘The portrait of Lady Byron as she was at the time of her marriage +is probably remembered by some of my readers. It is very engaging. +Her countenance afterwards became much worn; but its expression of thoughtfulness +and composure was very interesting. Her handwriting accorded well +with the character of her mind. It was clear, elegant, and womanly. +Her manners differed with circumstances. Her shrinking sensitiveness +might embarrass one visitor; while another would be charmed with her +easy, significant, and vivacious conversation. It depended much +on whom she talked with. The abiding certainty was, that she had +strength for the hardest of human trials, and the composure which belongs +to strength. For the rest, it is enough to point to her deeds, +and to the mourning of her friends round the chasm which her departure +has made in their life, and in the society in which it is spent. +All that could be done in the way of personal love and honour was done +while she lived: it only remains now to see that her name and fame are +permitted to shine forth at last in their proper light.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We have simply to ask the reader whether a life like this was not +the best, the noblest answer that a woman could make to a doubting world.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER V. THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON’S GRAVE.</h3> +<p>We have now brought the review of the antagonism against Lady Byron +down to the period of her death. During all this time, let the +candid reader ask himself which of these two parties seems to be plotting +against the other.</p> +<p><i>Which</i> has been active, aggressive, unscrupulous? which has +been silent, quiet, unoffending? Which of the two has laboured +to make a party, and to make that party active, watchful, enthusiastic?</p> +<p>Have we not proved that Lady Byron remained perfectly silent during +Lord Byron’s life, patiently looking out from her retirement to +see the waves of popular sympathy, that once bore her up, day by day +retreating, while his accusations against her were resounding in his +poems over the whole earth? And after Lord Byron’s death, +when all the world with one consent began to give their memorials of +him, and made it appear, by their various ‘recollections of conversations,’ +how incessantly he had obtruded his own version of the separation upon +every listener, did she manifest any similar eagerness?</p> +<p>Lady Byron had seen the ‘Blackwood’ coming forward, on +the first appearance of ‘Don Juan,’ to rebuke the cowardly +lampoon in words eloquent with all the unperverted vigour of an honest +Englishman. Under the power of the great conspirator, she had +seen <i>that</i> ‘Blackwood’ become the very eager recipient +and chief reporter of the stories against her, and the blind admirer +of her adversary.</p> +<p>All this time, she lost sympathy daily by being silent. The +world will embrace those who court it; it will patronise those who seek +its favour; it will make parties for those who seek to make parties: +but for the often accused who do not speak, who make no confidants and +no parties, the world soon loses sympathy.</p> +<p>When at last she spoke, Christopher North says <i>‘she astonished +the world</i>.’ Calm, clear, courageous, exact as to time, +date, and circumstance, was that first testimony, backed by the equally +clear testimony of Dr. Lushington.</p> +<p>It showed that her secret had been kept even from her parents. +In words precise, firm, and fearless, she says, ‘If these statements +on which Dr. Lushington and Sir Samuel Romilly formed their opinion +were false, the responsibility and the odium should rest with me only.’ +Christopher North did not pretend to disbelieve this statement. +He breathed not a doubt of Lady Byron’s word. He spoke of +the crime indicated, as one which might have been foul as the grave’s +corruption, unforgivable as the sin against the Holy Ghost. He +rebuked the wife for bearing this testimony, even to save the memory +of her dead father and mother, and, in the same breath, declared that +she ought now to go farther, and speak fully the one awful word, and +then—‘a mitigated sentence, or eternal silence!’</p> +<p>But Lady Byron took no counsel with the world, nor with the literary +men of her age. One knight, with some small remnant of England’s +old chivalry, set lance in rest for her: she saw him beaten back unhorsed, +rolled in the dust, and ingloriously vanquished, and perceived that +henceforth nothing but injury could come to any one who attempted to +speak for her.</p> +<p>She turned from the judgments of man and the fond and natural hopes +of human nature, to lose herself in sacred ministries to the downcast +and suffering. What nobler record for woman could there be than +that which Miss Martineau has given?</p> +<p>Particularly to be noted in Lady Byron was her peculiar interest +in reclaiming fallen women. Among her letters to Mrs. Prof. Follen, +of Cambridge, was one addressed to a society of ladies who had undertaken +this difficult work. It was full of heavenly wisdom and of a large +and tolerant charity. Fénelon truly says, it is only perfection +that can tolerate imperfection; and the very purity of Lady Byron’s +nature made her most forbearing and most tender towards the weak and +the guilty. This letter, with all the rest of Lady Byron’s, +was returned to the hands of her executors after her death. Its +publication would greatly assist the world in understanding the peculiarities +of its writer’s character.</p> +<p>Lady Byron passed to a higher life in 1860. <a name="citation105"></a><a href="#footnote105">{105}</a> +After her death, I looked for the publication of her Memoir and Letters +as the event that should give her the same opportunity of being known +and judged by her life and writings that had been so freely accorded +to Lord Byron.</p> +<p>She was, in her husband’s estimation, a woman of genius. +She was the friend of many of the first men and women of her times, +and corresponded with them on topics of literature, morals, religion, +and, above all, on the benevolent and philanthropic movements of the +day, whose principles she had studied with acute observation, and in +connection with which she had acquired a large experience.</p> +<p>The knowledge of her, necessarily diffused by such a series of letters, +would have created in America a comprehension of her character, of itself +sufficient to wither a thousand slanders.</p> +<p>Such a Memoir was contemplated. Lady Byron’s letters +to Mrs. Follen were asked for from Boston; and I was applied to by a +person in England, who I have recently learned is one of the existing +trustees of Lady Byron’s papers, to furnish copies of her letters +to me for the purpose of a Memoir. Before I had time to have copies +made, another letter came, stating that the trustees had concluded that +it was best not to publish any Memoir of Lady Byron at all.</p> +<p>This left the character of Lady Byron in our American world precisely +where the slanders of her husband, the literature of the Noctes Club, +and the unanimous verdict of May Fair as recorded by ‘Blackwood,’ +had placed it.</p> +<p>True, Lady Byron had nobly and quietly lived down these slanders +in England by deeds that made her name revered as a saint among all +those who valued saintliness.</p> +<p>But in France and Italy, and in these United States, I have had abundant +opportunity to know that Lady Byron stood judged and condemned on the +testimony of her brilliant husband, and that the feeling against her +had a vivacity and intensity not to be overcome by mere allusions to +a virtuous life in distant England.</p> +<p>This is strikingly shown by one fact. In the American edition +of Moore’s ‘Life of Byron,’ by Claxton, Remsen, and +Haffelfinger, Philadelphia, 1869, which I have been consulting, Lady +Byron’s statement, which is found in the Appendix of Murray’s +standard edition, <i>is</i> <i>entirely omitted</i>. Every other +paper is carefully preserved. This one incident showed how the +tide of sympathy was setting in this New World. Of course, there +is no stronger power than a virtuous life; but, for a virtuous life +to bear testimony to the world, its details must be <i>told</i>, so +that the world may know them.</p> +<p>Suppose the memoirs of Clarkson and Wilberforce had been suppressed +after their death, how soon might the coming tide have wiped out the +record of their bravery and philanthropy! Suppose the lives of +Francis Xavier and Henry Martyn had never been written, and we had lost +the remembrance of what holy men could do and dare in the divine enthusiasm +of Christian faith! Suppose we had no Fénelon, no Book +of Martyrs!</p> +<p>Would there not be an outcry through all the literary and artistic +world if a perfect statue were allowed to remain buried for ever because +some painful individual history was connected with its burial and its +recovery? But is not a noble life a greater treasure to mankind +than any work of art?</p> +<p>We have heard much mourning over the burned Autobiography of Lord +Byron, and seen it treated of in a magazine as ‘the lost chapter +in history.’ The lost chapter in history is <i>Lady</i> +Byron’s Autobiography in her life and letters; and the suppression +of them is the root of this whole mischief.</p> +<p>We do not in this intend to censure the parties who came to this +decision.</p> +<p>The descendants of Lady Byron revere her memory, as they have every +reason to do. That it was <i>their</i> desire to have a Memoir +of her published, I have been informed by an individual of the highest +character in England, who obtained the information directly from Lady +Byron’s grandchildren.</p> +<p>But the trustees in whose care the papers were placed drew back on +examination of them, and declared, that, as Lady Byron’s papers +could not be fully published, they should regret anything that should +call public attention once more to the discussion of her history.</p> +<p>Reviewing this long history of the way in which the literary world +had treated Lady Byron, we cannot wonder that her friends should have +doubted whether there was left on earth any justice, or sense that anything +is due to woman as a human being with human rights. Evidently +this lesson had taken from them all faith in the moral sense of the +world. Rather than re-awaken the discussion, so unsparing, so +painful, and so indelicate, which had been carried on so many years +around that loved form, now sanctified by death, they sacrificed the +dear pleasure of the memorials, and the interests of mankind, who have +an indefeasible right to all the help that can be got from the truth +of history as to the living power of virtue, and the reality of that +great victory that overcometh the world.</p> +<p>There are thousands of poor victims suffering in sadness, discouragement, +and poverty; heart-broken wives of brutal, drunken husbands; women enduring +nameless wrongs and horrors which the delicacy of their sex forbids +them to utter,—to whom the lovely letters lying hidden away under +those seals might bring courage and hope from springs not of this world.</p> +<p>But though the friends of Lady Byron, perhaps from despair of their +kind, from weariness of the utter injustice done her, wished to cherish +her name in silence, and to confine the story of her virtues to that +circle who knew her too well to ask a proof, or utter a doubt, the partisans +of Lord Byron were embarrassed with no such scruple.</p> +<p>Lord Byron had artfully contrived during his life to place his wife +in such an antagonistic position with regard to himself, that his intimate +friends were forced to believe that one of the two had deliberately +and wantonly injured the other. The published statement of Lady +Byron contradicted boldly and point-blank all the statement of her husband +concerning the separation; so that, unless <i>she</i> was convicted +as a false witness, <i>he</i> certainly was.</p> +<p>The best evidence of this is Christopher North’s own shocked, +astonished statement, and the words of the Noctes Club.</p> +<p>The noble life that Lady Byron lived after this hushed every voice, +and silenced even the most desperate calumny, <i>while she was in the +world</i>. In the face of Lady Byron as the world saw her, of +what use was the talk of Clytemnestra, and the assertion that she had +been a mean, deceitful conspirator against her husband’s honour +in life, and stabbed his memory after death?</p> +<p>But when she was in her grave, when her voice and presence and good +deeds no more spoke for her, and a new generation was growing up that +knew her not; <i>then</i> was the time selected to revive the assault +on her memory, and to say over her grave what none would ever have dared +to say of her while living.</p> +<p>During these last two years, I have been gradually awakening to the +evidence of a new crusade against the memory of Lady Byron, which respected +no sanctity,—not even that last and most awful one of death.</p> +<p>Nine years after her death, when it was fully understood that no +story on her side or that of her friends was to be forthcoming, then +her calumniators raked out from the ashes of her husband’s sepulchre +all his bitter charges, to state them over in even stronger and more +indecent forms.</p> +<p>There seems to be reason to think that the materials supplied by +Lord Byron for such a campaign yet exist in society.</p> +<p>To ‘The Noctes’ of November 1824, there is the following +note <i>apropos</i> to a discussion of the Byron question:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Byron’s Memoirs, given by him to Moore, +were burned, as everybody knows. But, before this, Moore had lent +them to several persons. Mrs. Home Purvis, afterwards Viscountess +of Canterbury, is known to have sat up all one night, in which, aided +by her daughter, she had a copy made. I have the strongest reason +for believing that one other person made a copy; for the description +of the first twenty-four hours after the marriage ceremonial has been +in my hands. Not until after the death of Lady Byron, and Hobhouse, +who was the poet’s literary executor, can the poet’s Autobiography +see the light; but I am certain it will be published.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Thus speaks Mackenzie in a note to a volume of ‘The Noctes,’ +published in America in 1854. Lady Byron died in 1860.</p> +<p>Nine years after Lady Byron’s death, when it was ascertained +that her story was not to see the light, when there were no means of +judging her character by her own writings, commenced a well-planned +set of operations to turn the public attention once more to Lord Byron, +and to represent him as an injured man, whose testimony had been unjustly +suppressed.</p> +<p>It was quite possible, supposing copies of the Autobiography to exist, +that this might occasion a call from the generation of to-day, in answer +to which the suppressed work might appear. This was a rather delicate +operation to commence; but the instrument was not wanting. It +was necessary that the subject should be first opened by some irresponsible +party, whom more powerful parties might, as by accident, recognise and +patronise, and on whose weakness they might build something stronger.</p> +<p>Just such an instrument was to be found in Paris. The mistress +of Lord Byron could easily be stirred up and flattered to come before +the world with a book which should re-open the whole controversy; and +she proved a facile tool. At first, the work appeared prudently +in French, and was called ‘Lord Byron jugé par les Témoins +de sa Vie,’ and was rather a failure. Then it was translated +into English, and published by Bentley.</p> +<p>The book was inartistic, and helplessly, childishly stupid as to +any literary merits,—a mere mass of gossip and twaddle; but after +all, when one remembers the taste of the thousands of circulating-library +readers, it must not be considered the less likely to be widely read +on that account. It is only once in a century that a writer of +real genius has the art to tell his story so as to take both the cultivated +few and the average many. De Foe and John Bunyan are almost the +only examples. But there is a certain class of reading that sells +and spreads, and exerts a vast influence, which the upper circles of +literature despise too much ever to fairly estimate its power.</p> +<p>However, the Guiccioli book did not want for patrons in the high +places of literature. The ‘Blackwood’—the old +classic magazine of England; the defender of conservatism and aristocracy; +the paper of Lockhart, Wilson, Hogg, Walter Scott, and a host of departed +grandeurs—was deputed to usher into the world this book, and to +recommend it and its author to the Christian public of the nineteenth +century.</p> +<p>The following is the manner in which ‘Blackwood’ calls +attention to it:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘One of the most beautiful of the songs of Béranger +is that addressed to his Lisette, in which he pictures her, in old age, +narrating to a younger generation the loves of their youth; decking +his portrait with flowers at each returning spring, and reciting the +verses that had been inspired by her vanished charms:—</p> +<p>‘Lorsque les yeux chercheront sous vos rides<br /> +Les traits charmants qui m’auront inspiré,<br /> +Des doux récits les jeunes gens avides,<br /> +Diront: Quel fut cet ami tant pleuré?<br /> +De men amour peignez, s’il est possible,<br /> +Vardeur, l’ivresse, et même les soupçons,<br /> +Et bonne vieille, an coin d’un feu paisible<br /> +De votre ami répétez les chansons.<br /> +“On vous dira: Savait-il être aimable?<br /> +Et sans rougir vous direz: Je l’aimais.<br /> +D’un trait méchant se montra-t-il capable?<br /> +Avec orgueil vous répondrez: Jamais!’”</p> +<p>‘This charming picture,’ ‘Blackwood’ goes +on to say, ‘has been realised in the case of a poet greater than +Béranger, and by a mistress more famous than Lisette. The +Countess Guiccioli has at length given to the world her “Recollections +of Lord Byron.” The book first appeared in France under +the title of “Lord Byron jugé par les Témoins de +sa Vie,” without the name of the countess. A more unfortunate +designation could hardly have been selected. The “witnesses +of his life” told us nothing but what had been told before over +and over again; and the uniform and exaggerated tone of eulogy which +pervaded the whole book was fatal to any claim on the part of the writer +to be considered an impartial judge of the wonderfully mixed character +of Byron.</p> +<p>‘When, however, the book is regarded as the avowed production +of the Countess Guiccioli, it derives value and interest from its very +faults. <a name="citation113"></a><a href="#footnote113">{113}</a> +There is something inexpressibly touching in the picture of the old +lady calling up the phantoms of half a century ago; not faded and stricken +by the hand of time, but brilliant and gorgeous as they were when Byron, +in his manly prime of genius and beauty, first flashed upon her enraptured +sight, and she gave her whole soul up to an absorbing passion, the embers +of which still glow in her heart.</p> +<p>‘To her there has been no change, no decay. The god whom +she worshipped with all the ardour of her Italian nature at seventeen +is still the “Pythian of the age” to her at seventy. +To try such a book by the ordinary canons of criticism would be as absurd +as to arraign the authoress before a jury of British matrons, or to +prefer a bill of indictment against the Sultan for bigamy to a Middlesex +grand jury.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This, then, is the introduction which one of the oldest and most +classical periodicals of Great Britain gives to a very stupid book, +simply because it was written by Lord Byron’s mistress. +<i>That fact</i>, we are assured, lends grace even to its faults.</p> +<p>Having brought the authoress upon the stage, the review now goes +on to define her position, and assure the Christian world that</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The Countess Guiccioli was the daughter of an +impoverished noble. At the age of sixteen, she was taken from +a convent, and sold as third wife to the Count Guiccioli, who was old, +rich, and profligate. A fouler prostitution never profaned the +name of marriage. A short time afterwards, she accidentally met +Lord Byron. Outraged and rebellious nature vindicated itself in +the deep and devoted passion with which he inspired her. With +the full assent of husband, father, and brother, and in compliance with +the usages of Italian society, he was shortly afterwards installed in +the office, and invested with all the privileges, of her “Cavalier +Servente.”’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It has been asserted that the Marquis de Boissy, the late husband +of this Guiccioli lady, was in the habit of introducing her in fashionable +circles as ‘the Marquise de Boissy, my wife, formerly mistress +to Lord Byron’! We do not give the story as a verity; yet, +in the review of this whole history, we may be pardoned for thinking +it quite possible.</p> +<p>The mistress, being thus vouched for and presented as worthy of sympathy +and attention by one of the oldest and most classic organs of English +literature, may now proceed in her work of glorifying the popular idol, +and casting abuse on the grave of the dead wife.</p> +<p>Her attacks on Lady Byron are, to be sure, less skilful and adroit +than those of Lord Byron. They want his literary polish and tact; +but what of that? ‘Blackwood’ assures us that even +the faults of manner derive a peculiar grace from the fact that the +narrator is Lord Byron’s mistress; and so we suppose the literary +world must find grace in things like this:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘She has been called, after his words, the moral +Clytemnestra of her husband. Such a surname is severe: but the +repugnance we feel to condemning a woman cannot prevent our listening +to the voice of justice, which tells us that the comparison is still +in favour of the guilty one of antiquity; for she, driven to crime by +fierce passion overpowering reason, at least only deprived her husband +of physical life, and, in committing the deed, exposed herself to all +its consequences; while Lady Byron left her husband at the very moment +that she saw him struggling amid a thousand shoals in the stormy sea +of embarrassments created by his marriage, and precisely when he more +than ever required a friendly, tender, and indulgent hand to save him.</p> +<p>‘Besides, she shut herself up in silence a thousand times more +cruel than Clytemnestra’s poniard: that only killed the body; +whereas Lady Byron’s silence was destined to kill the soul,—and +such a soul!—leaving the door open to calumny, and making it to +be supposed that her silence was magnanimity destined to cover over +frightful wrongs, perhaps even depravity. In vain did he, feeling +his conscience at ease, implore some inquiry and examination. +She refused; and the only favour she granted was to send him, one fine +day, two persons to see whether he were not mad.</p> +<p>‘And, why, then, had she believed him mad? Because she, +a methodical, inflexible woman, with that unbendingness which a profound +moralist calls the worship rendered to pride by a feelingless soul, +because she could not understand the possibility of tastes and habits +different to those of ordinary routine, or of her own starched life. +Not to be hungry when she was; not to sleep at night, but to write while +she was sleeping, and to sleep when she was up; in short, to gratify +the requirements of material and intellectual life at hours different +to hers,—all that was not merely annoying for her, but it must +be madness; or, if not, it betokened depravity that she could neither +submit to nor tolerate without perilling her own morality.</p> +<p>‘Such was the grand secret of the cruel silence which exposed +Lord Byron to the most malignant interpretations, to all the calumny +and revenge of his enemies.</p> +<p>‘She was, perhaps, the only woman in the world so strangely +organised,—the only one, perhaps, capable of not feeling happy +and proud at belonging to a man superior to the rest of humanity; and +fatally was it decreed that this woman alone of her species should be +Lord Byron’s wife!’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In a note is added,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘If an imaginary fear, and even an unreasonable +jealousy, may be her excuse (just as one excuses a monomania), can one +equally forgive her silence? Such a silence is morally what are +physically the poisons which kill at once, and defy all remedies; thus +insuring the culprit’s safety. This silence it is which +will ever be her crime; for by it she poisoned the life of her husband.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The book has several chapters devoted to Lord Byron’s peculiar +virtues; and under the one devoted to magnanimity and heroism, his <i>forgiving</i> +disposition receives special attention. The climax of all is stated +to be that he forgave Lady Byron. All the world knew that, since +he had declared this fact in a very noisy and impassioned manner in +the fourth canto of ‘Childe Harold,’ together with a statement +of the wrongs which he forgave; but the Guiccioli thinks his virtue, +at this period, has not been enough appreciated. In her view, +it rose to the sublime. She says of Lady Byron,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘An absolute moral monstrosity, an anomaly in the +history of types of female hideousness, had succeeded in showing itself +in the light of magnanimity. But false as was this high quality +in Lady Byron, so did it shine out in him true and admirable. +The position in which Lady Byron had placed him, and where she continued +to keep him by her harshness, silence, and strange refusals, was one +of those which cause such suffering, that the highest degree of self-control +seldom suffices to quiet the promptings of human weakness, and to cause +persons of even slight sensibility to preserve moderation. Yet, +with his sensibility and the knowledge of his worth, how did he act? +what did he say? I will not speak of his “farewell;” +of the care he took to shield her from blame by throwing it on others, +by taking much too large a share to himself.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>With like vivacity and earnestness does the narrator now proceed +to make an incarnate angel of her subject by the simple process of denying +everything that he himself ever confessed,—everything that has +ever been confessed in regard to him by his best friends. He has +been in the world as an angel unawares from his cradle. His guardian +did not properly appreciate him, and is consequently mentioned as that +wicked Lord Carlisle. Thomas Moore is never to be sufficiently +condemned for the facts told in his biography. Byron’s own +frank and lawless admissions of evil are set down to a peculiar inability +he had for speaking the truth about himself,—sometimes about his +near relations; all which does not in the least discourage the authoress +from giving a separate chapter on ‘Lord Byron’s Love of +Truth.’</p> +<p>In the matter of his relations with women, she complacently repeats +(what sounds rather oddly as coming from her) Lord Byron’s own +assurance, that he <i>never</i> seduced a woman; and also the equally +convincing statement, that he had told <i>her</i> (the Guiccioli) that +his married fidelity to his wife was perfect. She discusses Moore’s +account of the mistress in boy’s clothes who used to share Byron’s +apartments in college, and ride with him to races, and whom he presented +to <i>ladies</i> as his brother.</p> +<p>She has her own view of this matter. The disguised boy was +a lady of rank and fashion, who sought Lord Byron’s chambers, +as, we are informed, noble ladies everywhere, both in Italy and England, +were constantly in the habit of doing; throwing themselves at his feet, +and imploring permission to become his handmaids.</p> +<p>In the authoress’s own words, ‘Feminine overtures still +continued to be made to Lord Byron; but the fumes of incense never hid +from his sight his IDEAL.’ We are told that in the case +of these poor ladies, generally ‘disenchantment took place on +his side without a corresponding result on the other: THENCE many heart-breakings.’ +Nevertheless, we are informed that there followed the indiscretions +of these ladies ‘none of those proceedings that the world readily +forgives, but which his feelings as a man of honour would have condemned.’</p> +<p>As to drunkenness, and all that, we are informed he was an anchorite. +Pages are given to an account of the biscuits and soda-water that on +this and that occasion were found to be the sole means of sustenance +to this ethereal creature.</p> +<p>As to the story of using his wife’s money, the lady gives, +directly in the face of his own Letters and Journal, the same account +given before by Medwin, and which caused such merriment when talked +over in the Noctes Club,—that he had with her only a marriage +portion of £10,000; and that, on the separation, he not only paid +it back, but doubled it. <a name="citation119"></a><a href="#footnote119">{119}</a></p> +<p>So on the authoress goes, sowing right and left the most transparent +absurdities and misstatements with what Carlyle well calls ‘a +composed stupidity, and a cheerful infinitude of ignorance.’ +Who <i>should</i> know, if not she, to be sure? Had not Byron +told her all about it? and was not his family motto <i>Crede Byron</i>?</p> +<p>The ‘Blackwood,’ having a dim suspicion that this confused +style of attack and defence in reference to the two parties under consideration +may not have great weight, itself proceeds to make the book an occasion +for re-opening the controversy of Lord Byron with his wife.</p> +<p>The rest of the review devoted to a powerful attack on Lady Byron’s +character, the most fearful attack on the memory of a dead woman we +have ever seen made by living man. The author proceeds, like a +lawyer, to gather up, arrange, and restate, in a most workmanlike manner, +the confused accusations of the book.</p> +<p>Anticipating the objection, that such a re-opening of the inquiry +was a violation of the privacy due to womanhood and to the feelings +of a surviving family, he says, that though marriage usually is a private +matter which the world has no right to intermeddle with or discuss, +yet—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Lord Byron’s was an exceptional case. +It is not too much to say, that, had his marriage been a happy one, +the course of events of the present century might have been materially +changed; that the genius which poured itself forth in “Don Juan” +and “Cain” might have flowed in far different channels; +that the ardent love of freedom which sent him to perish at six and +thirty at Missolonghi might have inspired a long career at home; and +that we might at this moment have been appealing to the counsels of +his experience and wisdom at an age not exceeding that which was attained +by Wellington, Lyndhurst, and Brougham.</p> +<p>‘Whether the world would have been a gainer or a loser by the +exchange is a question which every man must answer for himself, according +to his own tastes and opinions; but the possibility of such a change +in the course of events warrants us in treating what would otherwise +be a strictly private matter as one of public interest.</p> +<p>‘More than half a century has elapsed, the actors have departed +from the stage, the curtain has fallen; and whether it will ever again +be raised so as to reveal the real facts of the drama, may, as we have +already observed, be well doubted. But the time has arrived when +we may fairly gather up the fragments of evidence, clear them as far +as possible from the incrustations of passion, prejudice, and malice, +and place them in such order, as, if possible, to enable us to arrive +at some probable conjecture as to what the skeleton of the drama originally +was.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Here the writer proceeds to put together all the facts of Lady Byron’s +case, just as an adverse lawyer would put them as against her, and for +her husband. The plea is made vigorously and ably, and with an +air of indignant severity, as of an honest advocate who is thoroughly +convinced that he is pleading the cause of a wronged man who has been +ruined in name, shipwrecked in life, and driven to an early grave, by +the arts of a bad woman,—a woman all the more horrible that her +malice was disguised under the cloak of religion.</p> +<p>Having made an able statement of facts, adroitly leaving out ONE, +<a name="citation121"></a><a href="#footnote121">{121}</a> of which +he could not have been ignorant had he studied the case carefully enough +to know all the others, he proceeds to sum up against the criminal thus:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘We would deal tenderly with the memory of Lady +Byron. Few women have been juster objects of compassion. +It would seem as if Nature and Fortune had vied with each other which +should be most lavish of her gifts, and yet that some malignant power +had rendered all their bounty of no effect. Rank, beauty, wealth, +and mental powers of no common order, were hers; yet they were of no +avail to secure common happiness. The spoilt child of seclusion, +restraint, and parental idolatry, a fate (alike evil for both) cast +her into the arms of the spoilt child of genius, passion, and the world. +What real or fancied wrongs she suffered, we may never know; but those +which she inflicted are sufficiently apparent.</p> +<p>‘It is said that there are some poisons so subtle that they +will destroy life, and yet leave no trace of their action. The +murderer who uses them may escape the vengeance of the law; but he is +not the less guilty. So the slanderer who makes no charge; who +deals in hints and insinuations: who knows melancholy facts he would +not willingly divulge,—things too painful to state; who forbears, +expresses pity, sometimes even affection, for his victim, shrugs his +shoulders, looks with</p> +<p> “The significant eye,<br /> +Which learns to lie with silence,—”</p> +<p>is far more guilty than he who tells the bold falsehood which may +be met and answered, and who braves the punishment which must follow +upon detection.</p> +<p>‘Lady Byron has been called</p> +<p> “The moral Clytemnestra of her lord.”</p> +<p>The “moral Brinvilliers” would have been a truer designation.</p> +<p>‘The conclusion at which we arrive is, that there is no proof +whatever that Lord Byron was guilty of any act that need have caused +a separation, or prevented a re-union, and that the imputations upon +him rest on the vaguest conjecture; that whatever real or fancied wrongs +Lady Byron may have endured are shrouded in an impenetrable mist of +her own creation,—a poisonous miasma in which she enveloped the +character of her husband, raised by her breath, and which her breath +only could have dispersed.</p> +<p> “She dies and makes no sign. O God! +forgive her.”’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>As we have been obliged to review accusations on Lady Byron founded +on old Greek tragedy, so now we are forced to abridge a passage from +a modern conversations-lexicon, that we may understand what sort of +comparisons are deemed in good taste in a conservative English review, +when speaking of ladies of rank in their graves.</p> +<p>Under the article ‘Brinvilliers,’ we find as follows:—</p> +<blockquote><p>MARGUERITE D’AUBRAI, MARCHIONESS OF BRINVILLIERS.—The +singular atrocity of this woman gives her a sort of infamous claim to +notice. She was born in Paris in 1651; being daughter of D’Aubrai, +lieutenant-civil of Paris, who married her to the Marquis of Brinvilliers. +Although possessed of attractions to captivate lovers, she was for some +time much attached to her husband, but at length became madly in love +with a Gascon officer. Her father imprisoned the officer in the +Bastille; and, while there, he learned the art of compounding subtle +and most mortal poisons; and, when he was released, he taught it to +the lady, who exercised it with such success, that, in one year, her +father, sister, and two brothers became her victims. She professed +the utmost tenderness for her victims, and nursed them assiduously. +On her father she is said to have made eight attempts before she succeeded. +She was very religious, and devoted to works of charity; and visited +the hospitals a great deal, where it is said she tried her poisons on +the sick.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>People have made loud outcries lately, both in America and England, +about violating the repose of the dead. We should like to know +what they call this. Is this, then, what they mean by <i>respecting</i> +the dead?</p> +<p>Let any man imagine a leading review coming out with language equally +brutal about his own mother, or any dear and revered friend.</p> +<p>Men of America, men of England, what do you think of this?</p> +<p>When Lady Byron was publicly branded with the names of the foulest +ancient and foulest modern assassins, and Lord Byron’s mistress +was publicly taken by the hand, and encouraged to go on and prosper +in her slanders, by one of the oldest and most influential British reviews, +what was said and what was done in England?</p> +<p>That is a question we should be glad to have answered. Nothing +was done that ever reached us across the water.</p> +<p>And why was nothing done? Is this language of a kind to be +passed over in silence?</p> +<p>Was it no offence to the house of Wentworth to attack the pure character +of its late venerable head, and to brand her in her sacred grave with +the name of one of the vilest of criminals?</p> +<p>Might there not properly have been an indignant protest of family +solicitors against this insult to the person and character of the Baroness +Wentworth?</p> +<p>If virtue went for nothing, benevolence for nothing, a long life +of service to humanity for nothing, one would at least have thought, +that, in aristocratic countries, rank might have had its rights to decent +consideration, and its guardians to rebuke the violation of those rights.</p> +<p>We Americans understand little of the advantages of rank; but we +did understand that it secured certain decorums to people, both while +living and when in their graves. From Lady Byron’s whole +history, in life and in death, it would appear that we were mistaken.</p> +<p>What a life was hers! Was ever a woman more evidently desirous +of the delicate and secluded privileges of womanhood, of the sacredness +of individual privacy? Was ever a woman so rudely dragged forth, +and exposed to the hardened, vulgar, and unfeeling gaze of mere curiosity?—her +maiden secrets of love thrown open to be handled by <i>roués</i>; +the sanctities of her marriage-chamber desecrated by leering satyrs; +her parents and best friends traduced and slandered, till one indignant +public protest was extorted from her, as by the rack,—a protest +which seems yet to quiver in every word with the indignation of outraged +womanly delicacy!</p> +<p>Then followed coarse blame and coarser comment,—blame for speaking +at all, and blame for not speaking more. One manly voice, raised +for her in honourable protest, was silenced and overborne by the universal +roar of ridicule and reprobation; and henceforth what refuge? +Only this remained: ‘Let them that suffer according to the will +of God commit the keeping of their souls to him as to a faithful Creator.’</p> +<p>Lady Byron turned to this refuge in silence, and filled up her life +with a noble record of charities and humanities. So pure was she, +so childlike, so artless, so loving, that those who knew her best, feel, +to this day, that a memorial of her is like the relic of a saint. +And could not all this preserve her grave from insult? O England, +England!</p> +<p>I speak in sorrow of heart to those who must have known, loved, and +revered Lady Byron, and ask them, Of what were you thinking when you +allowed a paper of so established literary rank as the ‘Blackwood,’ +to present and earnestly recommend to our New World such a compendium +of lies as the Guiccioli book?</p> +<p>Is the great English-speaking community, whose waves toss from Maine +to California, and whose literature is yet to come back in a thousand +voices to you, a thing to be so despised?</p> +<p>If, as the solicitors of the Wentworth family observe, you might +be entitled to treat with silent contempt the slanders of a mistress +against a wife, was it safe to treat with equal contempt the indorsement +and recommendation of those slanders by one of your oldest and most +powerful literary authorities?</p> +<p>No European magazine has ever had the weight and circulation in America +that the ‘Blackwood’ has held. In the days of my youth, +when New England was a comparatively secluded section of the earth, +the wit and genius of the ‘Noctes Ambrosianae’ were in the +mouths of men and maidens, even in our most quiet mountain-towns. +There, years ago, we saw all Lady Byron’s private affairs discussed, +and felt the weight of Christopher North’s decisions against her. +Shelton Mackenzie, in his American edition, speaks of the American circulation +of ‘Blackwood’ being greater than that in England. <a name="citation126"></a><a href="#footnote126">{126}</a> +It was and is now reprinted monthly; and, besides that, ‘Littell’s +Magazine’ reproduces all its striking articles, and they come +with the weight of long established position. From the very fact +that it has long been considered the Tory organ, and the supporter of +aristocratic orders, all its admissions against the character of individuals +in the privileged classes have a double force.</p> +<p>When ‘Blackwood,’ therefore, boldly denounces a lady +of high rank as a modern Brinvilliers, and no sensation is produced, +and no remonstrance follows, what can people in the New World suppose, +but that Lady Byron’s character was a point entirely given up; +that her depravity was so well established and so fully conceded, that +nothing was to be said, and that even the defenders of aristocracy were +forced to admit it?</p> +<p>I have been blamed for speaking on this subject without consulting +Lady Byron’s friends, trustees, and family. More than ten +years had elapsed since I had had any intercourse with England, and +I knew none of them. How was I to know that any of them were living? +I was astonished to learn, for the first time, by the solicitors’ +letters, that there were trustees, who held in their hands all Lady +Byron’s carefully prepared proofs and documents, by which this +falsehood might immediately have been refuted.</p> +<p>If they had spoken, they might have saved all this confusion. +Even if bound by restrictions for a certain period of time, they still +might have called on a Christian public to frown down such a cruel and +indecent attack on the character of a noble lady who had been a benefactress +to so many in England. They might have stated that the means of +wholly refuting the slanders of the ‘Blackwood’ were in +their hands, and only delayed in coming forth from regard to the feelings +of some in this generation. Then might they not have announced +her Life and Letters, that the public might have the same opportunity +as themselves for knowing and judging Lady Byron by her own writings?</p> +<p>Had this been done, I had been most happy to have remained silent. +I have been astonished that any one should have supposed this speaking +on my part to be anything less than it is,—the severest act of +self-sacrifice that one friend can perform for another, and the most +solemn and difficult tribute to justice that a human being can be called +upon to render.</p> +<p>I have been informed that the course I have taken would be contrary +to the wishes of my friend. I think otherwise. I know her +strong sense of justice, and her reverence for truth. Nothing +ever moved her to speak to the public but an attack upon the honour +of the dead. In her statement, she says of her parents, ‘There +is no other near relative to vindicate their memory from insult: I am +therefore compelled to break the silence I had hoped always to have +observed.’</p> +<p>If there was any near relative to vindicate Lady Byron’s memory, +I had no evidence of the fact; and I considered the utter silence to +be strong evidence to the contrary. In all the storm of obloquy +and rebuke that has raged in consequence of my speaking, I have had +two unspeakable sources of joy; first, that they could not touch <i>her</i>; +and, second, that they could not blind the all-seeing God. It +is worth being in darkness to see the stars.</p> +<p>It has been said that <i>I</i> have drawn on Lady Byron’s name +greater obloquy than ever before. I deny the charge. Nothing +fouler has been asserted of her than the charges in the ‘Blackwood,’ +because nothing fouler <i>could</i> be asserted. No satyr’s +hoof has ever crushed this pearl deeper in the mire than the hoof of +the ‘Blackwood,’ but none of them have defiled it or trodden +it so deep that God cannot find it in the day ‘when he maketh +up his jewels.’</p> +<p>I have another word, as an American, to say about the contempt shown +to our great people in thus suffering the materials of history to be +falsified to subserve the temporary purposes of family feeling in England.</p> +<p>Lord Byron belongs not properly either to the Byrons or the Wentworths. +He is not one of their family jewels to be locked up in their cases. +He belongs to the world for which he wrote, to which he appealed, and +before which he dragged his reluctant, delicate wife to a publicity +equal with his own: the world has, therefore, a right to judge him.</p> +<p>We Americans have been made accessories, after the fact, to every +insult and injury that Lord Byron and the literary men of his day have +heaped upon Lady Byron. We have been betrayed into injustice and +a complicity with villainy. After Lady Byron had nobly lived down +slanders in England, and died full of years and honours, the ‘Blackwood’ +takes occasion to re-open the controversy by recommending a book full +of slanders to a rising generation who knew nothing of the past. +What was the consequence in America? My attention was first called +to the result, not by reading the ‘Blackwood’ article, but +by finding in a popular monthly magazine two long articles,—the +one an enthusiastic recommendation of the Guiccioli book, and the other +a lamentation over the burning of the Autobiography as a lost chapter +in history.</p> +<p>Both articles represented Lady Byron as a cold, malignant, mean, +persecuting woman, who had been her husband’s ruin. They +were so full of falsehoods and misstatements as to astonish me. +Not long after, a literary friend wrote to me, <i>‘Will</i> you, +<i>can</i> you, reconcile it to your conscience to sit still and allow +that mistress so to slander that wife,—you, perhaps, the only +one knowing the real facts, and able to set them forth?’</p> +<p>Upon this, I immediately began collecting and reading the various +articles and the book, and perceived that the public of this generation +were in a way of having false history created, uncontradicted, under +their own eyes.</p> +<p>I claim for my countrymen and women, our right to <i>true</i> history. +For years, the popular literature has held up publicly before our eyes +the facts as to this man and this woman, and called on us to praise +or condemn. Let us have <i>truth</i> when we are called on to +judge. It is our <i>right</i>.</p> +<p>There is no conceivable obligation on a human being greater than +that of <i>absolute justice</i>. It is the deepest personal injury +to an honourable mind to be made, through misrepresentation, an accomplice +in injustice. When a noble name is accused, any person who possesses +truth which might clear it, and withholds that truth, is guilty of a +sin against human nature and the inalienable rights of justice. +I claim that I have not only a right, but an obligation, to bring in +my solemn testimony upon this subject.</p> +<p>For years and years, the silence-policy has been tried; and what +has it brought forth? As neither word nor deed could be proved +against Lady Byron, her silence has been spoken of as a monstrous, unnatural +crime, ‘a poisonous miasma,’ in which she enveloped the +name of her husband.</p> +<p>Very well; since silence is the crime, I thought I would tell the +world that Lady Byron had spoken.</p> +<p>Christopher North, years ago, when he condemned her for speaking, +said that she should speak further,—</p> +<p>‘She should speak, or some one for her. One word would +suffice.’</p> +<p>That one word has been spoken.</p> +<h2>PART II.</h2> +<h3>CHAPTER I. LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER.</h3> +<p>An editorial in The London Times’ of Sept. 18 says:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The perplexing feature in this “True Story” +is, that it is impossible to distinguish what part in it is the editress’s, +and what Lady Byron’s own. We are given the impression made +on Mrs. Stowe’s mind by Lady Byron’s statements; but it +would have been more satisfactory if the statement itself had been reproduced +as bare as possible, and been left to make its own impression on the +public.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In reply to this, I will say, that in my article I gave a brief synopsis +of the subject-matter of Lady Byron’s communications; and I think +it must be quite evident to the world that the <i>main fact</i> on which +the story turns was one which could not possibly be misunderstood, and +the remembrance of which no lapse of time could ever weaken.</p> +<p>Lady Byron’s communications were made to me in language clear, +precise, terrible; and many of her phrases and sentences I could repeat +at this day, word for word. But if I had reproduced them at first, +as ‘The Times’ suggests, word for word, the public horror +and incredulity would have been doubled. It was necessary that +the brutality of the story should, in some degree, be veiled and softened.</p> +<p>The publication, by Lord Lindsay, of Lady Anne Barnard’s communication, +makes it now possible to tell fully, and in Lady Byron’s own words, +certain incidents that yet remain untold. To me, who know the +whole history, the revelations in Lady Anne’s account, and the +story related by Lady Byron, are like fragments of a dissected map: +they fit together, piece by piece, and form one connected whole.</p> +<p>In confirmation of the general facts of this interview, I have the +testimony of a sister who accompanied me on this visit, and to whom, +immediately after it, I recounted the story.</p> +<p>Her testimony on the subject is as follows:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘MY DEAR SISTER,—I have a perfect recollection +of going with you to visit Lady Byron at the time spoken of in your +published article. We arrived at her house in the morning; and, +after lunch, Lady Byron and yourself spent the whole time till evening +alone together.</p> +<p>‘After we retired to our apartment that night, you related +to me the story given in your published account, though with many more +particulars than you have yet thought fit to give to the public.</p> +<p>‘You stated to me that Lady Byron was strongly impressed with +the idea that it might be her duty to publish a statement during her +lifetime, and also the reasons which induced her to think so. +You appeared at that time quite disposed to think that justice required +this step, and asked my opinion. We passed most of the night in +conversation on the subject,—a conversation often resumed, from +time to time, during several weeks in which you were considering what +opinion to give.</p> +<p>‘I was strongly of opinion that justice required the publication +of the truth, but felt exceedingly averse to its being done by Lady +Byron herself during her own lifetime, when she personally would be +subject to the comments and misconceptions of motives which would certainly +follow such a communication.</p> +<p> ‘Your +sister,</p> +<p> ‘M. +F. PERKINS.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I am now about to complete the account of my conversation with Lady +Byron; but as the credibility of a history depends greatly on the character +of its narrator, and as especial pains have been taken to destroy the +belief in this story by representing it to be the wanderings of a broken-down +mind in a state of dotage and mental hallucination, I shall preface +the narrative with some account of Lady Byron as she was during the +time of our mutual acquaintance and friendship.</p> +<p>This account may, perhaps, be deemed superfluous in England, where +so many knew her; but in America, where, from Maine to California, her +character has been discussed and traduced, it is of importance to give +interested thousands an opportunity of learning what kind of a woman +Lady Byron was.</p> +<p>Her character as given by Lord Byron in his Journal, after her first +refusal of him, is this:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘She is a very superior woman, and very little +spoiled; which is strange in an heiress, a girl of twenty, a peeress +that is to be in her own right, an only child, and a savante, who has +always had her own way. She is a poetess, a mathematician, a metaphysician; +yet, withal, very kind, generous, and gentle, with very little pretension. +Any other head would be turned with half her acquisitions and a tenth +of her advantages.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Such was Lady Byron at twenty. I formed her acquaintance in +the year 1853, during my first visit in England. I met her at +a lunch-party in the house of one of her friends.</p> +<p>The party had many notables; but, among them all, my attention was +fixed principally on Lady Byron. She was at this time sixty-one +years of age, but still had, to a remarkable degree, that personal attraction +which is commonly considered to belong only to youth and beauty.</p> +<p>Her form was slight, giving an impression of fragility; her motions +were both graceful and decided; her eyes bright, and full of interest +and quick observation. Her silvery-white hair seemed to lend a +grace to the transparent purity of her complexion, and her small hands +had a pearly whiteness. I recollect she wore a plain widow’s +cap of a transparent material; and was dressed in some delicate shade +of lavender, which harmonised well with her complexion.</p> +<p>When I was introduced to her, I felt in a moment the words of her +husband:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘There was awe in the homage that she drew;<br /> +Her spirit seemed as seated on a throne.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Calm, self-poised, and thoughtful, she seemed to me rather to resemble +an interested spectator of the world’s affairs, than an actor +involved in its trials; yet the sweetness of her smile, and a certain +very delicate sense of humour in her remarks, made the way of acquaintance +easy.</p> +<p>Her first remarks were a little playful; but in a few moments we +were speaking on what every one in those days was talking to me about,—the +slavery question in America.</p> +<p>It need not be remarked, that, when any one subject especially occupies +the public mind, those known to be interested in it are compelled to +listen to many weary platitudes. Lady Byron’s remarks, however, +caught my ear and arrested my attention by their peculiar incisive quality, +their originality, and the evidence they gave that she was as well informed +on all our matters as the best American statesman could be. I +had no wearisome course to go over with her as to the difference between +the General Government and State Governments, nor explanations of the +United States Constitution; for she had the whole before her mind with +a perfect clearness. Her morality upon the slavery question, too, +impressed me as something far higher and deeper than the common sentimentalism +of the day. Many of her words surprised me greatly, and gave me +new material for thought.</p> +<p>I found I was in company with a commanding mind, and hastened to +gain instruction from her on another point where my interest had been +aroused. I had recently been much excited by Kingsley’s +novels, ‘Alton Locke’ and ‘Yeast,’ on the position +of religious thought in England. From these works I had gathered, +that under the apparent placid uniformity of the Established Church +of England, and of ‘good society’ as founded on it, there +was moving a secret current of speculative enquiry, doubt, and dissent; +but I had met, as yet, with no person among my various acquaintances +in England who seemed either aware of this fact, or able to guide my +mind respecting it. The moment I mentioned the subject to Lady +Byron, I received an answer which showed me that the whole ground was +familiar to her, and that she was capable of giving me full information. +She had studied with careful thoughtfulness all the social and religious +tendencies of England during her generation. One of her remarks +has often since occurred to me. Speaking of the Oxford movement, +she said the time had come when the English Church could no longer remain +as it was. It must either <i>restore the past, or create a future</i>. +The Oxford movement attempted the former; and of the future she was +beginning to speak, when our conversation was interrupted by the presentation +of other parties.</p> +<p>Subsequently, in reply to a note from her on some benevolent business, +I alluded to that conversation, and expressed a wish that she would +finish giving me her views of the religious state of England. +A portion of the letter that she wrote me in reply I insert, as being +very characteristic in many respects:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Various causes have been assigned for the decaying +state of the English Church; which seems the more strange, because the +clergy have improved, morally and intellectually, in the last twenty +years. Then why should their influence be diminished? I +think it is owing to the diffusion of a spirit of free enquiry.</p> +<p>‘Doubts have arisen in the minds of many who are unhappily +bound by subscription not to doubt; and, in consequence, they are habitually +pretending either to believe or to disbelieve. The state of Denmark +cannot but be rotten, when to seem is the first object of the witnesses +of truth.</p> +<p>‘They may lead better lives, and bring forward abler arguments; +but their efforts are paralysed by that unsoundness. I see the +High Churchman professing to believe in the existence of a church, when +the most palpable facts must show him that no such church exists; the +“Low” Churchman professing to believe in exceptional interpositions +which his philosophy secretly questions; the “Broad” Churchman +professing as absolute an attachment to the Established Church as the +narrowest could feel, while he is preaching such principles as will +at last pull it down.</p> +<p>‘I ask you, my friend, whether there would not be more faith, +as well as earnestness, if all would speak out. There would be +more unanimity too, because they would all agree in a certain basis. +Would not a wider love supersede the creed-bound charity of sects?</p> +<p>‘I am aware that I have touched on a point of difference between +us, and I will not regret it; for I think the differences of mind are +analogous to those differences of nature, which, in the most comprehensive +survey, are the very elements of harmony.</p> +<p>‘I am not at all prone to put forth my own opinions; but the +tone in which you have written to me claims an unusual degree of openness +on my part. I look upon creeds of all kinds as chains,—far +worse chains than those you would break,—as the causes of much +hypocrisy and infidelity. I hold it to be a sin to make a child +say, “I believe.” Lead it to utter that belief spontaneously. +I also consider the institution of an exclusive priesthood, though having +been of service in some respects, as retarding the progress of Christianity +at present. I desire to see a lay ministry.</p> +<p>‘I will not give you more of my heterodoxy at present: perhaps +I need your pardon, connected as you are with the Church, for having +said so much.</p> +<p>‘There are causes of decay known to be at work in my frame, +which lead me to believe I may not have time to grow wiser; and I must +therefore leave it to others to correct the conclusions I have now formed +from my life’s experience. I should feel happy to discuss +them personally with you; for it would be soul to soul. In that +confidence I am yours most truly,</p> +<p> ‘A. +I. NOEL BYRON.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is not necessary to prove to the reader that this letter is not +in the style of a broken-down old woman subject to mental hallucinations. +It shows Lady Byron’s habits of clear, searching analysis, her +thoughtfulness, and, above all, that peculiar reverence for <i>truth</i> +and sincerity which was a leading characteristic of her moral nature. +<a name="citation139"></a><a href="#footnote139">{139}</a> It +also shows her views of the probable shortness of her stay on earth, +derived from the opinion of physicians about her disease, which was +a gradual ossification of the lungs. It has been asserted that +pulmonary diseases, while they slowly and surely sap the physical life, +often appear to give added vigour to the play of the moral and intellectual +powers.</p> +<p>I parted from Lady Byron, feeling richer in that I had found one +more pearl of great price on the shore of life.</p> +<p>Three years after this, I visited England to obtain a copyright for +the issue of my novel of ‘Dred.’</p> +<p>The hope of once more seeing Lady Byron was one of the brightest +anticipations held out to me in this journey. I found London quite +deserted; but, hearing that Lady Byron was still in town, I sent to +her, saying in my note, that, in case she was not well enough to call, +I would visit her. Her reply I give:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘MY DEAR FRIEND,—I will be indebted to you +for our meeting, as I am barely able to leave my room. It is not +a time for small personalities, if they could ever exist with you; and, +dressed or undressed, I shall hope to see you after two o’clock.</p> +<p> ‘Yours +very truly,</p> +<p> ‘A. +I. NOEL BYRON.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I found Lady Byron in her sick-room,—that place which she made +so different from the chamber of ordinary invalids. Her sick-room +seemed only a telegraphic station whence her vivid mind was flashing +out all over the world.</p> +<p>By her bedside stood a table covered with books, pamphlets, and files +of letters, all arranged with exquisite order, and each expressing some +of her varied interests. From that sick-bed she still directed, +with systematic care, her various works of benevolence, and watched +with intelligent attention the course of science, literature, and religion; +and the versatility and activity of her mind, the flow of brilliant +and penetrating thought on all the topics of the day, gave to the conversations +of her retired room a peculiar charm. You forgot that she was +an invalid; for she rarely had a word of her own personalities, and +the charm of her conversation carried you invariably from herself to +the subjects of which she was thinking. All the new books, the +literature of the hour, were lighted up by her keen, searching, yet +always kindly criticism; and it was charming to get her fresh, genuine, +clear-cut modes of expression, so different from the world-worn phrases +of what is called good society. Her opinions were always perfectly +clear and positive, and given with the freedom of one who has long stood +in a position to judge the world and its ways from her own standpoint. +But it was not merely in general literature and science that her heart +lay; it was following always with eager interest the progress of humanity +over the whole world.</p> +<p>This was the period of the great battle for liberty in Kansas. +The English papers were daily filled with the thrilling particulars +of that desperate struggle, and Lady Byron entered with heart and soul +into it.</p> +<p>Her first letter to me, at this time, is on this subject. It +was while ‘Dred’ was going through the press.</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘CAMBRIDGE +TERRACE, Aug. 15.</p> +<p>‘MY DEAR MRS. STOWE,—Messrs. Chambers liked the proposal +to publish the Kansas Letters. The more the public know of these +matters, the better prepared they will be for your book. The moment +for its publication seems well chosen. There is always in England +a floating fund of sympathy for what is above the everyday sordid cares +of life; and these better feelings, so nobly invested for the last two +years in Florence Nightingale’s career, are just set free. +To what will they next be attached? If you can lay hold of them, +they may bring about a deeper abolition than any legislative one,—the +abolition of the heart-heresy that man’s worth comes, not from +God, but from man.</p> +<p>‘I have been obliged to give up exertion again, but hope soon +to be able to call and make the acquaintance of your daughters. +In case you wish to consult H. Martineau’s pamphlets, I send more +copies. Do not think of answering: I have occupied too much of +your time in reading.</p> +<p> ‘Yours +affectionately,</p> +<p> ‘A. +I. NOEL BYRON.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>As soon as a copy of ‘Dred’ was through the press, I +sent it to her, saying that I had been reproved by some excellent people +for representing too faithfully the profane language of some of the +wicked characters. To this she sent the following reply:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Your book, dear Mrs. Stowe, is of the little leaven +kind, and must prove a great moral force; perhaps not manifestly so +much as secretly. And yet I can hardly conceive so much power +without immediate and sensible effects: only there will be a strong +disposition to resist on the part of all hollow-hearted professors of +religion, whose heathenisms you so unsparingly expose. They have +a class feeling like others.</p> +<p>‘To the young, and to those who do not reflect much on what +is offered to their belief, you will do great good by showing how spiritual +food is often adulterated. The bread from heaven is in the same +case as bakers’ bread.</p> +<p>‘If there is truth in what I heard Lord Byron say, that works +of fiction live only by the amount of truth which they contain, your +story is sure of a long life. Of the few critiques I have seen, +the best is in “The Examiner.” I find an obtuseness +as to the spirit and aim of the book, as if you had designed to make +the best novel of the season, or to keep up the reputation of one. +You are reproached, as Walter Scott was, with too much scriptural quotation; +not, that I have heard, with phrases of an opposite character.</p> +<p>‘The effects of such reading till a late hour one evening appeared +to influence me very singularly in a dream. The most horrible +spectres presented themselves, and I woke in an agony of fear; but a +faith still stronger arose, and I became courageous from trust in God, +and felt calm. Did you do this? It is very insignificant +among the many things you certainly will do unknown to yourself. +I know more than ever before how to value communion with you. +I have sent Robertson’s Sermons for you; and, with kind regards +to your family, am</p> +<p> ‘Yours +affectionately,</p> +<p> ‘A. +I. NOEL BYRON.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I was struck in this note with the mention of Lord Byron, and, the +next time I saw her, alluded to it, and remarked upon the peculiar qualities +of his mind as shown in some of his more serious conversations with +Dr. Kennedy.</p> +<p>She seemed pleased to continue the subject, and went on to say many +things of his singular character and genius, more penetrating and more +appreciative than is often met with among critics.</p> +<p>I told her that I had been from childhood powerfully influenced by +him; and began to tell her how much, as a child, I had been affected +by the news of his death,—giving up all my plays, and going off +to a lonely hillside, where I spent the afternoon thinking of him. +She interrupted me before I had quite finished, with a quick, impulsive +movement. ‘I know all that,’ she said: ‘I heard +it all from Mrs. ---; and it was one of the things that made me wish +to <i>know</i> you. I think <i>you</i> could understand him.’ +We talked for some time of him then; she, with her pale face slightly +flushed, speaking, as any other great man’s widow might, only +of what was purest and best in his works, and what were his undeniable +virtues and good traits, especially in early life. She told me +many pleasant little speeches made by him to herself; and, though there +was running through all this a shade of melancholy, one could never +have conjectured that there were under all any deeper recollections +than the circumstances of an ordinary separation might bring.</p> +<p>Not many days after, with the unselfishness which was so marked a +trait with her, she chose a day when she could be out of her room, and +invited our family party, consisting of my husband, sister, and children, +to lunch with her.</p> +<p>What showed itself especially in this interview was her tenderness +for all young people. She had often enquired after mine; asked +about their characters, habits, and tastes; and on this occasion she +found an opportunity to talk with each one separately, and to make them +all feel at ease, so that they were able to talk with her. She +seemed interested to point out to them what they should see and study +in London; and the charm of her conversation left on their minds an +impression that subsequent years have never effaced. I record +this incident, because it shows how little Lady Byron assumed the privileges +or had the character of an invalid absorbed in herself, and likely to +brood over her own woes and wrongs.</p> +<p>Here was a family of strangers stranded in a dull season in London, +and there was no manner of obligation upon her to exert herself to show +them attention. Her state of health would have been an all-sufficient +reason why she should not do it; and her doing it was simply a specimen +of that unselfish care for others, even down to the least detail, of +which her life was full.</p> +<p>A little while after, at her request, I went, with my husband and +son, to pass an evening at her house.</p> +<p>There were a few persons present whom she thought I should be interested +to know,—a Miss Goldsmid, daughter of Baron Goldsmid, and Lord +Ockham, her grandson, eldest son and heir of the Earl of Lovelace, to +whom she introduced my son.</p> +<p>I had heard much of the eccentricities of this young nobleman, and +was exceedingly struck with his personal appearance. His bodily +frame was of the order of the Farnese Hercules,—a wonderful development +of physical and muscular strength. His hands were those of a blacksmith. +He was broadly and squarely made, with a finely-shaped head, and dark +eyes of surpassing brilliancy. I have seldom seen a more interesting +combination than his whole appearance presented.</p> +<p>When all were engaged in talking, Lady Byron came and sat down by +me, and glancing across to Lord Ockham and my son, who were talking +together, she looked at me, and smiled. I immediately expressed +my admiration of his fine eyes and the intellectual expression of his +countenance, and my wonder at the uncommon muscular development of his +frame.</p> +<p>She said that <i>that</i> of itself would account for many of Ockham’s +eccentricities. He had a body that required a more vigorous animal +life than his station gave scope for, and this had often led him to +seek it in what the world calls low society; that he had been to sea +as a sailor, and was now working as a mechanic on the iron work of ‘The +Great Eastern.’ He had laid aside his title, and went in +daily with the other workmen, requesting them to call him simply Ockham.</p> +<p>I said that there was something to my mind very fine about this, +even though it might show some want of proper balance.</p> +<p>She said he had noble traits, and that she felt assured he would +yet accomplish something worthy of himself. ‘The great difficulty +with our nobility is apt to be, that they do not <i>understand</i> the +working-classes, so as to feel for them properly; and Ockham is now +going through an experience which may yet fit him to do great good when +he comes to the peerage. I am trying to influence him to do good +among the workmen, and to interest himself in schools for their children. +I think,’ she added, ‘I have great influence over Ockham,—the +greater, perhaps, that I never make any claim to authority.’</p> +<p>This conversation is very characteristic of Lady Byron as showing +her benevolent analysis of character, and the peculiar hopefulness she +always had in regard to the future of every one brought in connection +with her. Her moral hopefulness was something very singular; and +in this respect she was so different from the rest of the world, that +it would be difficult to make her understood. Her tolerance of +wrong-doing would have seemed to many quite latitudinarian, and impressed +them as if she had lost all just horror of what was morally wrong in +transgression; but it seemed her fixed habit to see faults only as diseases +and immaturities, and to expect them to fall away with time.</p> +<p>She saw the germs of good in what others regarded as only evil. +She expected valuable results to come from what the world looked on +only as eccentricities; <a name="citation147"></a><a href="#footnote147">{147}</a> +and she incessantly devoted herself to the task of guarding those whom +the world condemned, and guiding them to those higher results of which +she often thought that even their faults were prophetic.</p> +<p>Before I quit this sketch of Lady Byron as I knew her, I will give +one more of her letters. My return from that visit in Europe was +met by the sudden death of the son mentioned in the foregoing account. +At the time of this sorrow, Lady Byron was too unwell to write to me. +The letter given alludes to this event, and speaks also of two coloured +persons of remarkable talent, in whose career in England she had taken +a deep interest. One of them is the ‘friend’ she speaks +of.</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘LONDON, +Feb. 6, 1859.</p> +<p>DEAR MRS. STOWE,—I seem to feel our friend as a bridge, over +which our broken outward communication can be renewed without effort. +Why broken? The words I would have uttered at one time were like +drops of blood from my heart. Now I sympathise with the calmness +you have gained, and can speak of your loss as I do of my own. +Loss and restoration are more and more linked in my mind, but “to +the present live.” As long as they are in God’s world +they are in ours. I ask no other consolation.</p> +<p>‘Mrs. W---’s recovery has astonished me, and her husband’s +prospects give me great satisfaction. They have achieved a benefit +to their coloured people. She had a mission which her burning +soul has worked out, almost in defiance of death. But who is “called” +without being “crucified,” man or woman? I know of +none.</p> +<p>‘I fear that H. Martineau was too sanguine in her persuasion +that the slave power had received a serious check from the ruin of so +many of your Mammon-worshippers. With the return of commercial +facilities, that article of commerce will again find purchasers enough +to raise its value. Not that way is the iniquity to be overthrown. +A deeper moral earthquake is needed. <a name="citation148"></a><a href="#footnote148">{148}</a> +We English had ours in India; and though the cases are far from being +alike, yet a consciousness of what we ought to have been and ought to +be toward the natives could not have been awakened by less than the +reddened waters of the Ganges. So I fear you will have to look +on a day of judgment worse than has been painted.</p> +<p>‘As to all the frauds and impositions which have been disclosed +by the failures, what a want of the sense of personal responsibility +they show. It seems to be thought that “association” +will “cover a multitude of sins;” as if “and Co.” +could enter heaven. A firm may be described as a partnership for +lowering the standard of morals. Even ecclesiastical bodies are +not free from the “and Co.;” very different from “the +goodly fellowship of the apostles.”</p> +<p>‘The better class of young gentlemen in England are seized +with a mediaeval mania, to which Ruskin has contributed much. +The chief reason for regretting it is that taste is made to supersede +benevolence. The money that would save thousands from perishing +or suffering must be applied to raise the Gothic edifice where their +last prayer may be uttered. Charity may be dead, while Art has +glorified her. This is worse than Catholicism, which cultivates +heart and eye together. The first cathedral was Truth, at the +beginning of the fourth century, just as Christianity was exchanging +a heavenly for an earthly crown. True religion may have to cast +away the symbol for the spirit before “the kingdom” can +come.</p> +<p>‘While I am speculating to little purpose, perhaps you are +doing—what? Might not a biography from your pen bring forth +again some great, half-obscured soul to act on the world? Even +Sir Philip Sidney ought to be superseded by a still nobler type.</p> +<p>‘This must go immediately, to be in time for the bearer, of +whose meeting with you I shall think as the friend of both. May +it be happy!</p> +<p> ‘Your +affectionate</p> +<p> ‘A. +I. N. B.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>One letter more from Lady Byron I give,—the last I received +from her:—</p> +<blockquote><p> LONDON, +May 3, 1859.</p> +<p>DEAR FRIEND,—I have found, particularly as to yourself, that, +if I did not answer from the first impulse, all had evaporated. +Your letter came by ‘The Niagara,’ which brought Fanny Kemble +to learn the loss of her best friend, the Miss F---- whom you saw at +my house.</p> +<p>‘Her death, after an illness in which she was to the last a +minister of good to others, is a soul-loss to me also; and your remarks +are most appropriate to my feelings. I have been taught, however, +to accept survivorship; even to feel it, in some cases, Heaven’s +best blessing.</p> +<p>‘I have an intense interest in your new novel. <a name="citation149"></a><a href="#footnote149">{149}</a> +More power in these few numbers than in any of your former writings, +relating, at least, to my own mind. It would amuse you to hear +my granddaughter and myself attempting to foresee the future of the +love-story; being, for the moment, quite persuaded that James is at +sea, and the minister about to ruin himself. We think that Mary +will labour to be in love with the self-devoted man, under her mother’s +influence, and from that hyper-conscientiousness so common with good +girls; but we don’t wish her to succeed. Then what is to +become of her older lover? Time will show.</p> +<p>‘The lady you desired to introduce to me will be welcomed as +of you. She has been misled with respect to my having any house +in Yorkshire (New Leeds). I am in London now to be of a little +use to A----; not ostensibly, for I can neither go out, nor give parties: +but I am the confidential friend to whom she likes to bring her social +gatherings, as she can see something of the world with others. +Age and infirmity seem to be overlooked in what she calls the harmony +between us,—not perfect agreement of opinion (which I should regret, +with almost fifty years of difference), but the spirit-union: can you +say what it is?</p> +<p>‘I am interrupted by a note from Mrs. K----. She says +that she cannot write of our lost friend yet, though she is less sad +than she will be. Mrs. F---- may like to hear of her arrival, +should you be in communication with our friend. She is the type +of youth in age.</p> +<p>‘I often converse with Miss S----, a judicious friend of the +W----s, about what is likely to await them. She would not succeed +here as well as where she was a novelty. The character of our +climate this year has been injurious to the respiratory organs; but +I hope still to serve them.</p> +<p>‘I have just missed Dale Owen, with whom I wished to have conversed +on spiritualism. <a name="citation150"></a><a href="#footnote150">{150}</a> +Harris is lecturing here on religion. I do not hear him praised.</p> +<p>‘People are looking for helps to believe, everywhere but in +life,—in music, in architecture, in antiquity, in ceremony; and +upon all these is written, “Thou shalt not believe.” +At least, if this be faith, happier the unbeliever. I am willing +to see through that materialism; but, if I am to rest there, I would +rend the veil.</p> +<p> ‘June +1.</p> +<p>‘The day of the packet’s sailing. I shall hope +to be visited by you here. The best flowers sent me have been +placed in your little vases, giving life to the remembrance of you, +though not, like them, to pass away.</p> +<p> ‘Ever +yours,</p> +<p> ‘A. +I. NOEL BYRON.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Shortly after, I was in England again, and had one more opportunity +of resuming our personal intercourse. The first time that I called +on Lady Byron, I saw her in one of those periods of utter physical exhaustion +to which she was subject on account of the constant pressure of cares +beyond her strength. All who knew her will testify, that, in a +state of health which would lead most persons to become helpless absorbents +of service from others, she was assuming burdens, and making outlays +of her vital powers in acts of love and service, with a generosity that +often reduced her to utter exhaustion. But none who knew or loved +her ever misinterpreted the coldness of those seasons of exhaustion. +We knew that it was not the spirit that was chilled, but only the frail +mortal tabernacle. When I called on her at this time, she could +not see me at first; and when, at last, she came, it was evident that +she was in a state of utter prostration. Her hands were like ice; +her face was deadly pale; and she conversed with a restraint and difficulty +which showed what exertion it was for her to keep up at all. I +left as soon as possible, with an appointment for another interview. +That interview was my last on earth with her, and is still beautiful +in memory. It was a long, still summer afternoon, spent alone +with her in a garden, where we walked together. She was enjoying +one of those bright intervals of freedom from pain and languor, in which +her spirits always rose so buoyant and youthful; and her eye brightened, +and her step became elastic.</p> +<p>One last little incident is cherished as most expressive of her. +When it became time for me to leave, she took me in her carriage to +the station. As we were almost there, I missed my gloves, and +said, ‘I must have left them; but there is not time to go back.’</p> +<p>With one of those quick, impulsive motions which were so natural +to her in doing a kindness, she drew off her own and said, ‘Take +mine if they will serve you.’</p> +<p>I hesitated a moment; and then the thought, that I might never see +her again, came over me, and I said, ‘Oh, yes! thanks.’ +That was the last earthly word of love between us. But, thank +God, those who love worthily never meet for the <i>last</i> time: there +is always a future.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER II. LADY BYRON’S STORY AS TOLD ME.</h3> +<p>I now come to the particulars of that most painful interview which +has been the cause of all this controversy. My sister and myself +were going from London to Eversley to visit the Rev. C. Kingsley. +On our way, we stopped, by Lady Byron’s invitation, to lunch with +her at her summer residence on Ham Common, near Richmond; and it was +then arranged, that on our return, we should make her a short visit, +as she said she had a subject of importance on which she wished to converse +with me alone.</p> +<p>On our return from Eversley, we arrived at her house in the morning.</p> +<p>It appeared to be one of Lady Byron’s well days. She +was up and dressed, and moved about her house with her usual air of +quiet simplicity; as full of little acts of consideration for all about +her as if they were the habitual invalids, and she the well person.</p> +<p>There were with her two ladies of her most intimate friends, by whom +she seemed to be regarded with a sort of worship. When she left +the room for a moment, they looked after her with a singular expression +of respect and affection, and expressed freely their admiration of her +character, and their fears that her unselfishness might be leading her +to over-exertion.</p> +<p>After lunch, I retired with Lady Byron; and my sister remained with +her friends. I should here remark, that the chief subject of the +conversation which ensued was not entirely new to me. In the interval +between my first and second visits to England, a lady who for many years +had enjoyed Lady Byron’s friendship and confidence, had, with +her consent, stated the case generally to me, giving some of the incidents: +so that I was in a manner prepared for what followed.</p> +<p>Those who accuse Lady Byron of being a person fond of talking upon +this subject, and apt to make unconsidered confidences, can have known +very little of her, of her reserve, and of the apparent difficulty she +had in speaking on subjects nearest her heart.</p> +<p>Her habitual calmness and composure of manner, her collected dignity +on all occasions, are often mentioned by her husband, sometimes with +bitterness, sometimes with admiration. He says, ‘Though +I accuse Lady Byron of an excess of self-respect, I must in candour +admit that, if ever a person had excuse for an extraordinary portion +of it, she has; as, in all her thoughts, words, and deeds, she is the +most decorous woman that ever existed, and must appear, what few I fancy +could, a perfectly refined gentlewoman, even to her <i>femme de chambre</i>.’</p> +<p>This calmness and dignity were never more manifested than in this +interview. In recalling the conversation at this distance of time, +I cannot remember all the language used. Some particular words +and forms of expression I do remember, and those I give; and in other +cases I give my recollection of the substance of what was said.</p> +<p>There was something awful to me in the intensity of repressed emotion +which she showed as she proceeded. The great fact upon which all +turned was stated in words that were unmistakable:—</p> +<p>‘He was guilty of incest with his sister!’</p> +<p>She here became so deathly pale, that I feared she would faint; and +hastened to say, ‘My dear friend, I have heard that.’ +She asked quickly, ‘From whom?’ and I answered, ‘From +Mrs. ----;’ when she replied, ‘Oh, yes!’ as if recollecting +herself.</p> +<p>I then asked her some questions; in reply to which she said, ‘I +will tell you.’</p> +<p>She then spoke of her first acquaintance with Lord Byron; from which +I gathered that she, an only child, brought up in retirement, and living +much within herself, had been, as deep natures often were, intensely +stirred by his poetry; and had felt a deep interest in him personally, +as one that had the germs of all that is glorious and noble.</p> +<p>When she was introduced to him, and perceived his admiration of herself, +and at last received his offer, although deeply moved, she doubted her +own power to be to him all that a wife should be. She declined +his offer, therefore, but desired to retain his friendship. After +this, as she said, a correspondence ensued, mostly on moral and literary +subjects; and, by this correspondence, her interest in him was constantly +increased.</p> +<p>At last, she said, he sent her a very beautiful letter, offering +himself again. ‘I thought,’ she added, ‘that +it was sincere, and that I might now show him all I felt. I wrote +just what was in my heart.</p> +<p>‘Afterwards,’ she said, ‘I found in one of his +journals this notice of my letter: “A letter from Bell,—never +rains but it pours.”’</p> +<p>There was through her habitual calm a shade of womanly indignation +as she spoke these words; but it was gone in a moment. I said, +‘And did he not love you, then?’ She answered, ‘No, +my dear: he did not love me.’</p> +<p>‘Why, then, did he wish to marry you?’ She laid +her hand on mine, and said in a low voice, ‘You will see.’</p> +<p>She then told me, that, shortly after the declared engagement, he +came to her father’s house to visit her as an accepted suitor. +The visit was to her full of disappointment. His appearance was +so strange, moody, and unaccountable, and his treatment of her so peculiar, +that she came to the conclusion that he did not love her, and sought +an opportunity to converse with him alone.</p> +<p>She told him that she saw from his manner that their engagement did +not give him pleasure; that she should never blame him if he wished +to dissolve it; that his nature was exceptional; and if, on a nearer +view of the situation, he shrank from it, she would release him, and +remain no less than ever his friend.</p> +<p>Upon this, she said, he fainted entirely away.</p> +<p>She stopped a moment, and then, as if speaking with great effort, +added, <i>‘Then</i> I was <i>sure</i> he must love me.’</p> +<p>‘And did he not?’ said I. ‘What other cause +could have led to this emotion?’</p> +<p>She looked at me very sadly, and said, ‘<i>Fear of detection</i>.’</p> +<p>‘What!’ said I, ‘did <i>that cause</i> then exist?’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ she said, ‘it did.’ And she +explained that she now attributed Lord Byron’s great agitation +to fear, that, in some way, suspicion of the crime had been aroused +in her mind, and that on this account she was seeking to break the engagement. +She said, that, from that moment, her sympathies were aroused for him, +to soothe the remorse and anguish which seemed preying on his mind, +and which she then regarded as the sensibility of an unusually exacting +moral nature, which judged itself by higher standards, and condemned +itself unsparingly for what most young men of his times regarded as +venial faults. She had every hope for his future, and all the +enthusiasm of belief that so many men and women of those times and ours +have had in his intrinsic nobleness. She said the gloom, however, +seemed to be even deeper when he came to the marriage; but she looked +at it as the suffering of a peculiar being, to whom she was called to +minister. I said to her, that, even in the days of my childhood, +I had heard of something very painful that had passed as they were in +the carriage, immediately after marriage. She then said that it +was so; that almost his first words, when they were alone, were, that +she <i>might</i> once have saved him; that, if she had accepted him +when he first offered, she might have made him anything she pleased; +but that, as it was, she would find she had married a devil.</p> +<p>The conversation, as recorded in Lady Anne Barnard’s Diary, +seems only a continuation of the foregoing, and just what might have +followed upon it.</p> +<p>I then asked how she became certain of the true cause.</p> +<p>She said, that, from the outset of their married life, his conduct +towards her was strange and unaccountable, even during the first weeks +after the wedding, while they were visiting her friends, and outwardly +on good terms. He seemed resolved to shake and combat both her +religious principles and her views of the family state. He tried +to undermine her faith in Christianity as a rule of life by argument +and by ridicule. He set before her the Continental idea of the +liberty of marriage; it being a simple partnership of friendship and +property, the parties to which were allowed by one another to pursue +their own separate individual tastes. He told her, that, as he +could not be expected to confine himself to her, neither should he expect +or wish that she should confine herself to him; that she was young and +pretty, and could have her lovers, and he should never object; and that +she must allow him the same freedom.</p> +<p>She said that she did not comprehend to what this was tending till +after they came to London, and his sister came to stay with them.</p> +<p>At what precise time the idea of an improper connection between her +husband and his sister was first forced upon her, she did not say; but +she told me how it was done. She said that one night, in her presence, +he treated his sister with a liberty which both shocked and astonished +her. Seeing her amazement and alarm, he came up to her, and said, +in a sneering tone, ‘I suppose you perceive <i>you</i> are not +wanted here. Go to your own room, and leave us alone. We +can amuse ourselves better without you.’</p> +<p>She said, ‘I went to my room, trembling. I fell down +on my knees, and prayed to my heavenly Father to have mercy on them. +I thought, “What shall I do?”’</p> +<p>I remember, after this, a pause in the conversation, during which +she seemed struggling with thoughts and emotions; and, for my part, +I was unable to utter a word, or ask a question.</p> +<p>She did not tell me what followed immediately upon this, nor how +soon after she spoke on the subject with either of the parties. +She first began to speak of conversations afterwards held with Lord +Byron, in which he boldly avowed the connection as having existed in +time past, and as one that was to continue in time to come; and implied +that she must submit to it. She put it to his conscience as concerning +his sister’s soul, and he said that it was no sin, that it was +the way the world was first peopled: the Scriptures taught that all +the world descended from one pair; and how could that be unless brothers +married their sisters? that, if not a sin then, it could not be a sin +now.</p> +<p>I immediately said, ‘Why, Lady Byron, those are the very arguments +given in the drama of “Cain.”’</p> +<p>‘The very same,’ was her reply. ‘He could +reason very speciously on this subject.’ She went on to +say, that, when she pressed him hard with the universal sentiment of +mankind as to the horror and the crime, he took another turn, and said +that the horror and crime were the very attraction; that he had worn +out all <i>ordinary</i> forms of sin, and that he <i>‘longed for +the stimulus of a new kind of vice</i>.’ She set before +him the dread of detection; and then he became furious. She should +never be the means of his detection, he said. She should leave +him; <i>that</i> he was resolved upon: but she should always bear all +the blame of the separation. In the sneering tone which was common +with him, he said, ‘The world will believe me, and it will <i>not</i> +believe you. The world has made up its mind that “By” +is a glorious boy; and the world will go for “By,” right +or wrong. Besides, I shall make it my life’s object to discredit +you: I shall use all my powers. Read “Caleb Williams,” +<a name="citation161"></a><a href="#footnote161">{161}</a> and you will +see that I shall do by you just as Falkland did by Caleb.’</p> +<p>I said that all this seemed to me like insanity. She said that +she was for a time led to think that it was insanity, and excused and +pitied him; that his treatment of her expressed such hatred and malignity, +that she knew not what else to think of it; that he seemed resolved +to drive her out of the house at all hazards, and threatened her, if +she should remain, in a way to alarm the heart of any woman: yet, thinking +him insane, she left him at last with the sorrow with which anyone might +leave a dear friend whose reason was wholly overthrown, and to whom +in this desolation she was no longer permitted to minister.</p> +<p>I inquired in one of the pauses of the conversation whether Mrs. +Leigh was a peculiarly beautiful or attractive woman.</p> +<p>‘No, my dear: she was plain.’</p> +<p>‘Was she, then, distinguished for genius or talent of any kind?’</p> +<p>‘Oh, no! Poor woman! she was weak, relatively to him, +and wholly under his control.’</p> +<p>‘And what became of her?’ I said.</p> +<p>‘She afterwards repented, and became a truly good woman.’ +I think it was here she mentioned that she had frequently seen and conversed +with Mrs. Leigh in the latter part of her life; and she seemed to derive +comfort from the recollection.</p> +<p>I asked, ‘Was there a child?’ I had been told by +Mrs. ---- that there was a daughter, who had lived some years.</p> +<p>She said there was one, a daughter, who made her friends much trouble, +being of a very difficult nature to manage. I had understood that +at one time this daughter escaped from her friends to the Continent, +and that Lady Byron assisted in efforts to recover her. Of Lady +Byron’s kindness both to Mrs. Leigh and the child, I had before +heard from Mrs. ----, who gave me my first information.</p> +<p>It is also strongly impressed on my mind, that Lady Byron, in answer +to some question of mine as to whether there was ever any meeting between +Lord Byron and his sister after he left England, answered, that she +had insisted upon it, or made it a condition, that Mrs. Leigh should +not go abroad to him.</p> +<p>When the conversation as to events was over, as I stood musing, I +said, ‘Have you no evidence that he repented?’ and alluded +to the mystery of his death, and the message be endeavoured to utter.</p> +<p>She answered quickly, and with great decision, that whatever might +have been his meaning at that hour, she felt sure he had finally repented; +and added with great earnestness, ‘I do not believe that <i>any</i> +child of the heavenly Father is ever left to eternal sin.’</p> +<p>I said that such a hope was most delightful to my feelings, but that +I had always regarded the indulgence of it as a dangerous one.</p> +<p>Her look, voice, and manner, at that moment, are indelibly fixed +in my mind. She looked at me so sadly, so firmly, and said,—</p> +<p>‘Danger, Mrs. Stowe! What danger can come from indulging +that hope, like the danger that comes from not having it?’</p> +<p>I said in my turn, ‘What danger comes from not having it?’</p> +<p>‘The danger of losing all faith in God,’ she said, ‘all +hope for others, all strength to try and save them. I once knew +a lady,’ she added, ‘who was in a state of scepticism and +despair from belief in that doctrine. I think I saved her by giving +her my faith.’</p> +<p>I was silent; and she continued: ‘Lord Byron believed in eternal +punishment fully: for though he reasoned against Christianity as it +is commonly received, he could not reason himself out of it; and I think +it made him desperate. He used to say, “The worst of it +is I <i>do</i> believe.” Had he seen God as I see him, I +am sure his heart would have relented.’</p> +<p>She went on to say, that his sins, great as they were, admitted of +much palliation and excuse; that he was the child of singular and ill-matched +parents; that he had an organisation originally fine, but one capable +equally of great good or great evil; that in his childhood he had only +the worst and most fatal influences; that he grew up into manhood with +no guide; that there was everything in the classical course of the schools +to develop an unhealthy growth of passion, and no moral influence of +any kind to restrain it; that the manners of his day were corrupt; that +what were now considered vices in society were then spoken of as matters +of course among young noblemen; that drinking, gaming, and licentiousness +everywhere abounded and that, up to a certain time, he was no worse +than multitudes of other young men of his day,—only that the vices +of his day were worse for him. The excesses of passion, the disregard +of physical laws in eating, drinking, and living, wrought effects on +him that they did not on less sensitively organised frames, and prepared +him for the evil hour when he fell into the sin which shaded his whole +life. All the rest was a struggle with its consequences,—sinning +more and more to conceal the sin of the past. But she believed +he never outlived remorse; that he always suffered; and that this showed +that God had not utterly forsaken him. Remorse, she said, always +showed moral sensibility, and, while <i>that</i> remained, there was +always hope.</p> +<p>She now began to speak of her grounds for thinking it might be her +duty fully to publish this story before she left the world.</p> +<p>First she said that, through the whole course of her life, she had +felt the eternal value of truth, and seen how dreadful a thing was falsehood, +and how fearful it was to be an accomplice in it, even by silence. +Lord Byron had demoralised the moral sense of England, and he had done +it in a great degree by the sympathy excited by falsehood. This +had been pleaded in extenuation of all his crimes and vices, and led +to a lowering of the standard of morals in the literary world. +Now it was proposed to print cheap editions of his works, and sell them +among the common people, and interest them in him by the circulation +of this same story.</p> +<p>She then said in effect, that she believed in retribution and suffering +in the future life, and that the consequences of sins <i>here</i> follow +us <i>there</i>; and it was strongly impressed upon her mind that Lord +Byron must suffer in looking on the evil consequences of what he had +done in this life, and in seeing the further extension of that evil.</p> +<p>‘It has sometimes strongly appeared to me,’ she said, +‘that he cannot be at peace until this injustice has been righted. +Such is the strong feeling that I have when I think of going where he +is.’</p> +<p>These things, she said, had led her to inquire whether it might not +be her duty to make a full and clear disclosure before she left the +world.</p> +<p>Of course, I did not listen to this story as one who was investigating +its worth. I received it as truth. And the purpose for which +it was communicated was not to enable me to prove it to the world, but +to ask my opinion whether <i>she</i> should show it to the world before +leaving it. The whole consultation was upon the assumption that +she had at her command such proofs as could not be questioned.</p> +<p>Concerning what they were I did not minutely inquire: only, in answer +to a general question, she said that she had letters and documents in +proof of her story. Knowing Lady Byron’s strength of mind, +her clear-headedness, her accurate habits, and her perfect knowledge +of the matter, I considered her judgment on this point decisive.</p> +<p>I told her that I would take the subject into consideration, and +give my opinion in a few days. That night, after my sister and +myself had retired to our own apartment, I related to her the whole +history, and we spent the night in talking of it. I was powerfully +impressed with the justice and propriety of an immediate disclosure; +while she, on the contrary, represented the painful consequences that +would probably come upon Lady Byron from taking such a step.</p> +<p>Before we parted the next day, I requested Lady Byron to give me +some memoranda of such dates and outlines of the general story as would +enable me better to keep it in its connection; which she did.</p> +<p>On giving me the paper, Lady Byron requested me to return it to her +when it had ceased to be of use to me for the purpose indicated.</p> +<p>Accordingly, a day or two after, I enclosed it to her in a hasty +note, as I was then leaving London for Paris, and had not yet had time +fully to consider the subject.</p> +<p>On reviewing my note, I can recall that then the whole history appeared +to me like one of those singular cases where unnatural impulses to vice +are the result of a taint of constitutional insanity. This has +always seemed to me the only way of accounting for instances of utterly +motiveless and abnormal wickedness and cruelty. These my first +impressions were expressed in the hasty note written at the time:—</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘LONDON, +Nov. 5, 1856.</p> +<p>‘DEAREST FRIEND,—I return these. They have held +mine eyes waking! How strange! how unaccountable! Have you +ever subjected the facts to the judgment of a medical man learned in +nervous pathology?</p> +<p>‘Is it not insanity?</p> +<p>“Great wits to madness nearly are allied,<br /> +And thin partitions do their bounds divide.”</p> +<p>‘But my purpose to-night is not to write you fully what I think +of this matter. I am going to write to you from Paris more at +leisure.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The rest of the letter was taken up in the final details of a charity +in which Lady Byron had been engaged with me in assisting an unfortunate +artist. It concludes thus:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I write now in all haste, en route for Paris. +As to America, all is not lost yet. <a name="citation168"></a><a href="#footnote168">{168}</a> +Farewell! I love you, my dear friend, as never before, with an +intense feeling I cannot easily express. God bless you!</p> +<p> ‘H. +B. S.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The next letter is as follows:—</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘Paris, +Dec. 17, 1856.</p> +<p>‘DEAR LADY BYRON,—The Kansas Committee have written me +a letter desiring me to express to Miss ---- their gratitude for the +five pounds she sent them. I am not personally acquainted with +her, and must return these acknowledgments through you.</p> +<p>‘I wrote you a day or two since, enclosing the reply of the +Kansas Committee to you.</p> +<p>‘On that subject on which you spoke to me the last time we +were together, I have thought often and deeply.</p> +<p>‘I have changed my mind somewhat. Considering the peculiar +circumstances of the case, I could wish that the sacred veil of silence, +so bravely thrown over the past, should never be withdrawn during the +time that you remain with us.</p> +<p>‘I would say, then, Leave all with some discreet friends, who, +after both have passed from earth, shall say what was due to justice.</p> +<p>‘I am led to think this by seeing how low, how unjust, how +unworthy, the judgments of this world are; and I would not that what +I so much respect, love, and revere should be placed within reach of +its harpy claw, which pollutes what it touches.</p> +<p>‘The day will yet come which will bring to light every hidden +thing. “There is nothing covered that shall not be revealed, +neither hid that shall not be known;” and so justice will not +fail.</p> +<p>‘Such, my dear friend, are my thoughts; different from what +they were since first I heard that strange, sad history. Meanwhile, +I love you ever, whether we meet again on earth or not.</p> +<p> ‘Affectionately +yours,</p> +<p> ‘H. +B. S.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The following letter will here be inserted as confirming a part of +Lady Byron’s story:—</p> +<blockquote><p> TO +THE EDITOR OF ‘MACMILLAN’S MAGAZINE.’</p> +<p>‘SIR,—I trust that you will hold me excused from any +desire to be troublesome, or to rush into print. Both these things +are far from my wish. But the publication of a book having for +its object the vindication of Lord Byron’s character, and the +subsequent appearance in your magazine of Mrs. Stowe’s article +in defence of Lady Byron, having led to so much controversy in the various +newspapers of the day, I feel constrained to put in a few words among +the rest.</p> +<p>‘My father was intimately acquainted with Lady Byron’s +family for many years, both before and after her marriage; being, in +fact, steward to Sir Ralph Milbanke at Seaham, where the marriage took +place; and, from all my recollections of what he told me of the affair +(and he used often to talk of it, up to the time of his death, eight +years ago), I fully agree with Mrs. Stowe’s view of the case, +and desire to add my humble testimony to the truth of what she has stated.</p> +<p>‘Whilst Byron was staying at Seaham, previous to his marriage, +he spent most of his time pistol-shooting in the plantations adjoining +the hall, often making use of his glove as a mark; his servant being +with him to load for him.</p> +<p>‘When all was in readiness for the wedding-ceremony (which +took place in the drawing-room of the hall), Byron had to be sought +for in the grounds, where he was walking in his usual surly mood.</p> +<p>‘After the marriage, they posted to Halnaby Lodge in Yorkshire, +a distance of about forty miles; to which place my father accompanied +them, and he always spoke strongly of Lady Byron’s apparent distress +during and at the end of the journey.</p> +<p>‘The insulting words mentioned by Mrs. Stowe were spoken by +Byron before leaving the park at Seaham; after which he appeared to +sit in moody silence, reading a book, for the rest of the journey. +At Halnaby, a number of persons, tenants and others, were met to cheer +them on their arrival. Of these he took not the slightest notice, +but jumped out of the carriage, and walked away, leaving his bride to +alight by herself. She shook hands with my father, and begged +that he would see that some refreshment was supplied to those who had +thus come to welcome them.</p> +<p>‘I have in my possession several letters (which I should be +glad to show to anyone interested in the matter) both from Lady Byron, +and her mother, Lady Milbanke, to my father, all showing the deep and +kind interest which they took in the welfare of all connected with them, +and directing the distribution of various charities, etc. Pensions +were allowed both to the old servants of the Milbankes and to several +poor persons in the village and neighbourhood for the rest of their +lives; and Lady Byron never ceased to take a lively interest in all +that concerned them.</p> +<p>‘I desire to tender my humble thanks to Mrs. Stowe for having +come forward in defence of one whose character has been much misrepresented; +and to you, sir, for having published the same in your pages.</p> +<p> ‘I +have the honour to be, sir, yours obediently,</p> +<p> ‘G. +H. AIRD.</p> +<p>‘DAOURTY, NORTHAMPTONSHIRE, Sept. 29, 1869.’</p> +</blockquote> +<h3>CHAPTER III. CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS.</h3> +<p>I have now fulfilled as conscientiously as possible the requests +of those who feel that they have a right to know exactly what was said +in this interview.</p> +<p>It has been my object, in doing this, to place myself just where +I should stand were I giving evidence under oath before a legal tribunal. +In my first published account, there were given some smaller details +of the story, of no particular value to the main purpose of it, which +I received <i>not</i> from Lady Byron, but from her confidential friend. +One of these was the account of her seeing Lord Byron’s favourite +spaniel lying at his door, and the other was the scene of the parting.</p> +<p>The first was communicated to me before I ever saw Lady Byron, and +under these circumstances:—I was invited to meet her, and had +expressed my desire to do so, because Lord Byron had been all my life +an object of great interest to me. I inquired what sort of a person +Lady Byron was. My friend spoke of her with enthusiasm. +I then said, ‘but of course she never <i>loved</i> Lord Byron, +or she would not have left him.’ The lady answered, ‘I +can show you with what feelings she left him by relating this story;’ +and then followed the anecdote.</p> +<p>Subsequently, she also related to me the other story of the parting-scene +between Lord and Lady Byron. In regard to these two incidents, +my recollection is clear.</p> +<p>It will be observed by the reader that Lady Byron’s conversation +with me was simply for consultation <i>on one point</i>, and that point +whether <i>she herself</i> should publish the story before her death. +It was not, therefore, a complete history of all the events in their +order, but specimens of a few incidents and facts. Her object +was, not to prove her story to me, nor to put me in possession of it +with a view to <i>my</i> proving it, but simply and briefly to show +me <i>what it was</i>, that I might judge as to the probable results +of its publication at that time.</p> +<p>It therefore comprised primarily these points:—</p> +<p>1. An exact statement, in so many words, of the crime.</p> +<p>2. A statement of the manner in which it was first forced on +her attention by Lord Byron’s words and actions, including his +admissions and defences of it.</p> +<p>3. The admission of a period when she had ascribed his whole +conduct to insanity.</p> +<p>4. A reference to later positive evidences of guilt, the existence +of a child, and Mrs. Leigh’s subsequent repentance.</p> +<p>And here I have a word to say in reference to the alleged inaccuracies +of my true story.</p> +<p>The dates that Lady Byron gave me on the memoranda did not relate +either to the time of the first disclosure, or the period when her doubts +became certainties; nor did her conversation touch either of these points: +and, on a careful review of the latter, I see clearly that it omitted +dwelling upon anything which I might be supposed to have learned from +her already published statement.</p> +<p>I re-enclosed that paper to her from London, and have never seen +it since.</p> +<p>In writing my account, which I designed to do in the most general +terms, I took for my guide Miss Martineau’s published Memoir of +Lady Byron, which has long stood uncontradicted before the public, of +which Macmillan’s London edition is now before me. The reader +is referred to page 316, which reads thus:—</p> +<p>‘She was born 1792; married in January 1814; returned to her +father’s house in 1816; died on May 16, 1860.’ This +makes her married life two years; but we need not say that the date +is inaccurate, as Lady Byron was married in 1815.</p> +<p>Supposing Lady Byron’s married life to have covered two years, +I could only reconcile its continuance for that length of time to her +uncertainty as to his sanity; to deceptions practised on her, making +her doubt at one time, and believe at another; and his keeping her in +a general state of turmoil and confusion, till at last he took the step +of banishing her.</p> +<p>Various other points taken from Miss Martineau have also been attacked +as inaccuracies; for example, the number of executions in the house: +but these points, though of no importance, are substantially borne out +by Moore’s statements.</p> +<p>This controversy, unfortunately, cannot be managed with the accuracy +of a legal trial. Its course, hitherto, has rather resembled the +course of a drawing-room scandal, where everyone freely throws in an +assertion, with or without proof. In making out my narrative, +however, I shall use only certain authentic sources, some of which have +for a long time been before the public, and some of which have floated +up from the waves of the recent controversy. I consider as authentic +sources,—</p> +<p>Moore’s Life of Byron;</p> +<p>Lady Byron’s own account of the separation, published in 1830;</p> +<p>Lady Byron’s statements to me in 1856;</p> +<p>Lord Lindsay’s communication, giving an extract from Lady Anne +Barnard’s diary, and a copy of a letter from Lady Byron dated +1818, about three years after her marriage;</p> +<p>Mrs. Mimms’ testimony, as given in a daily paper published +at Newcastle, England;</p> +<p>And Lady Byron’s letters, as given recently in the late ‘London +Quarterly.’</p> +<p>All which documents appear to arrange themselves into a connected +series.</p> +<p>From these, then, let us construct the story.</p> +<p>According to Mrs. Mimms’ account, which is likely to be accurate, +the time spent by Lord and Lady Byron in bridal-visiting was three weeks +at Halnaby Hall, and six weeks at Seaham, when Mrs. Mimms quitted their +service.</p> +<p>During this first period of three weeks, Lord Byron’s treatment +of his wife, as testified to by the servant, was such that she advised +her young mistress to return to her parents; and, at one time, Lady +Byron had almost resolved to do so.</p> +<p>What the particulars of his conduct were, the servant refuses to +state; being bound by a promise of silence to her mistress. She, +however, testifies to a warm friendship existing between Lady Byron +and Mrs. Leigh, in a manner which would lead us to feel that Lady Byron +received and was received by Lord Byron’s sister with the greatest +affection. Lady Byron herself says to Lady Anne Barnard, ‘I +had heard that he was the best of brothers;’ and the inference +is, that she, at an early period of her married life, felt the greatest +confidence in his sister, and wished to have her with them as much as +possible. In Lady Anne’s account, this wish to have the +sister with her was increased by Lady Byron’s distress at her +husband’s attempts to corrupt her principles with regard to religion +and marriage.</p> +<p>In Moore’s Life, vol. iii., letter 217, Lord Byron writes from +Seaham to Moore, under date of March 8, sending a copy of his verses +in Lady Byron’s handwriting, and saying, ‘We shall leave +this place to-morrow, and shall stop on our way to town, in the interval +of taking a house there, at Colonel Leigh’s, near Newmarket, where +any epistle of yours will find its welcome way. I have been very +comfortable here, listening to that d---d monologue which elderly gentlemen +call conversation, in which my pious father-in-law repeats himself every +evening, save one, when he played upon the fiddle. However, they +have been vastly kind and hospitable, and I like them and the place +vastly; and I hope they will live many happy months. Bell is in +health and unvaried good-humour and behaviour; but we are in all the +agonies of packing and parting.’</p> +<p>Nine days after this, under date of March 17, Lord Byron says, ‘We +mean to metropolize to-morrow, and you will address your next to Piccadilly.’ +The inference is, that the days intermediate were spent at Colonel Leigh’s. +The next letters, and all subsequent ones for six months, are dated +from Piccadilly.</p> +<p>As we have shown, there is every reason to believe that a warm friendship +had thus arisen between Mrs. Leigh and Lady Byron, and that, during +all this time, Lady Byron desired as much of the society of her sister-in-law +as possible. She was a married woman and a mother, her husband’s +nearest relative; and Lady Byron could with more propriety ask, from +her, counsel or aid in respect to his peculiarities than she could from +her own parents. If we consider the character of Lady Byron as +given by Mrs. Mimms, that of a young person of warm but repressed feeling, +without sister or brother, longing for human sympathy, and having so +far found no relief but in talking with a faithful dependant,—we +may easily see that the acquisition of a sister through Lord Byron might +have been all in all to her, and that the feelings which he checked +and rejected for himself might have flowed out towards his sister with +enthusiasm. The date of Mrs. Leigh’s visit does not appear.</p> +<p>The first domestic indication in Lord Byron’s letters from +London is the announcement of the death of Lady Byron’s uncle, +Lord Wentworth, from whom came large expectations of property. +Lord Byron had mentioned him before in his letters as so kind to Bell +and himself that he could not find it in his heart to wish him in heaven +if he preferred staying here. In his letter of April 23, he mentions +going to the play immediately after hearing this news, ‘although,’ +as he says, ‘he ought to have stayed at home in sackcloth for +“unc.”’</p> +<p>On June 12, he writes that Lady Byron is more than three months advanced +in her progress towards maternity; and that they have been out very +little, as he wishes to keep her quiet. We are informed by Moore +that Lord Byron was at this time a member of the Drury-Lane Theatre +Committee; and that, in this unlucky connection, one of the fatalities +of the first year of trial as a husband lay. From the strain of +Byron’s letters, as given in Moore, it is apparent, that, while +he thinks it best for his wife to remain at home, he does not propose +to share the retirement, but prefers running his own separate career +with such persons as thronged the greenroom of the theatre in those +days.</p> +<p>In commenting on Lord Byron’s course, we must not by any means +be supposed to indicate that he was doing any more or worse than most +gay young men of his time. The licence of the day as to getting +drunk at dinner-parties, and leading, generally, what would, in these +days, be called a disorderly life, was great. We should infer +that none of the literary men of Byron’s time would have been +ashamed of being drunk occasionally. The Noctes Ambrosianae Club +of ‘Blackwood’ is full of songs glorying, in the broadest +terms, in out-and-out drunkenness, and inviting to it as the highest +condition of a civilised being. <a name="citation178a"></a><a href="#footnote178a">{178a}</a></p> +<p>But drunkenness upon Lord Byron had a peculiar and specific effect, +which he notices afterwards, in his Journal, at Venice: ‘The effect +of all wines and spirits upon me is, however, strange. It settles, +but makes me gloomy—gloomy at the very moment of their effect: +it composes, however, though <i>sullenly</i>.’ <a name="citation178b"></a><a href="#footnote178b">{178b}</a> +And, again, in another place, he says, ‘Wine and spirits make +me sullen, and savage to ferocity.’</p> +<p>It is well known that the effects of alcoholic excitement are various +as the natures of the subjects. But by far the worst effects, +and the most destructive to domestic peace, are those that occur in +cases where spirits, instead of acting on the nerves of motion, and +depriving the subject of power in that direction, stimulate the brain +so as to produce there the ferocity, the steadiness, the utter deadness +to compassion or conscience, which characterise a madman. How +fearful to a sensitive young mother in the period of pregnancy might +be the return of such a madman to the domestic roof! Nor can we +account for those scenes described in Lady Anne Barnard’s letters, +where Lord Byron returned from his evening parties to try torturing +experiments on his wife, otherwise than by his own statement, that spirits, +while they <i>steadied</i> him, made him ‘gloomy, and savage to +ferocity.’</p> +<p>Take for example this:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘One night, coming home from one of his lawless +parties, he saw me (Lady B.) so indignantly collected, and bearing all +with such a determined calmness, that a rush of remorse seemed to come +over him. He called himself a monster, and, though his sister +was present, threw himself in agony at my feet. “I could +not, no, I could not, forgive him such injuries! He had lost me +forever!” Astonished at this return to virtue, my tears, +I believe, flowed over his face; and I said, “Byron, all is forgotten; +never, never shall you hear of it more.”</p> +<p>‘He started up, and folding his arms while he looked at me, +burst out into laughter. “What do you mean?” said +I. “Only a philosophical experiment; that’s all,” +said he. “I wished to ascertain the value of your resolutions.”’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>To ascribe such deliberate cruelty as this to the effect of drink +upon Lord Byron, is the most charitable construction that can be put +upon his conduct.</p> +<p>Yet the manners of the period were such, that Lord Byron must have +often come to this condition while only doing what many of his acquaintances +did freely, and without fear of consequences.</p> +<p>Mr. Moore, with his usual artlessness, gives us an idea of a private +supper between himself and Lord Byron. We give it, with our own +italics, as a specimen of many others:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Having taken upon me to order the repast, and +knowing that Lord Byron for the last two days had done nothing towards +sustenance beyond eating a few biscuits and (to appease appetite) chewing +mastic, I desired that we should have a good supply of at least two +kinds of fish. My companion, however, confined himself to lobsters; +and of these finished two or three, to his own share, interposing, sometimes, +a small liqueur-glass of strong white brandy, sometimes a tumbler of +very hot water, and then pure brandy again, to the amount of near half +a dozen small glasses of the latter, without which, alternately with +the hot water, he appeared to think the lobster could not be digested. +After this, we had claret, of which, having despatched two bottles between +us, at about four o’clock in the morning we parted.</p> +<p>‘As Pope has thought his “delicious lobster-nights” +worth commemorating, these particulars of one in which Lord Byron was +concerned may also have some interest.</p> +<p>‘Among other nights of the same description which I had the +happiness of passing with him, I remember once, in returning home from +some assembly at rather a late hour, we saw lights in the windows of +his old haunt, Stevens’s in Bond Street, and agreed to stop there +and sup. On entering, we found an old friend of his, Sir G---- +W----, who joined our party; and, the lobsters and brandy and water +being put in requisition, it was (as usual on such occasions) broad +daylight before we separated.’—Vol. iii. p.83.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>During the latter part of Lady Byron’s pregnancy, it appears +from Moore that Byron was, night after night, engaged out at dinner +parties, in which getting drunk was considered as of course the <i>finale</i>, +as appears from the following letters:—</p> +<blockquote><p> (LETTER +228.)</p> +<p> TO +MR. MOORE.</p> +<p> ‘TERRACE, +PICCADILLY, OCT. 31,1815.</p> +<p>‘I have not been able to ascertain precisely the time of duration +of the stock-market; but I believe it is a good time for selling out, +and I hope so. First, because I shall see you; and, next, because +I shall receive certain moneys on behalf of Lady B., the which will +materially conduce to my comfort; I wanting (as the duns say) “to +make up a sum.”</p> +<p>‘Yesterday I dined out with a large-ish party, where were Sheridan +and Colman, Harry Harris, of C. G., and his brother, Sir Gilbert Heathcote, +Ds. Kinnaird, and others of note and notoriety. Like other parties +of the kind, it was first silent, then talky, then argumentative, then +disputatious, then unintelligible, * then altogethery, then inarticulate, +and then drunk. When we had reached the last step of this glorious +ladder, it was difficult to get down again without stumbling; and, to +crown all, Kinnaird and I had to conduct Sheridan down a d---d corkscrew +staircase, which had certainly been constructed before the discovery +of fermented liquors, and to which no legs, however crooked, could possibly +accommodate themselves. We deposited him safe at home, where his +man, evidently used to the business, <a name="citation181"></a><a href="#footnote181">{181}</a> +waited to receive him in the hall.</p> +<p>‘Both he and Colman were, as usual, very good; but I carried +away much wine, and the wine had previously carried away my memory: +so that all was hiccough and happiness for the last hour or so, and +I am not impregnated with any of the conversation. Perhaps you +heard of a late answer of Sheridan to the watchman who found him bereft +of that “divine particle of air” called reason . . . He +(the watchman) found Sherry in the street fuddled and bewildered, and +almost insensible. “Who are you, sir?”—No answer. +“What’s your name?”—A hiccough. “What’s +your name?”—Answer, in a slow, deliberate, and impassive +tone, “Wilberforce!” Is not that Sherry all over?—and, +to my mind, excellent. Poor fellow, his very dregs are better +than the “first sprightly runnings” of others.</p> +<p>‘My paper is full, and I have a grievous headache.</p> +<p>‘P.S.—Lady B. is in full progress. Next month will +bring to light (with the aid of “Juno Lucina, fer opem,” +or rather opes, for the last are most wanted) the tenth wonder of the +world; Gil Blas being the eighth, and he (my son’s father) the +ninth.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Here we have a picture of the whole story,—Lady Byron within +a month of her confinement; her money being used to settle debts; her +husband out at a dinner-party, going through the <i>usual course</i> +of such parties, able to keep his legs and help Sheridan downstairs, +and going home ‘gloomy, and savage to ferocity,’ to his +wife.</p> +<p>Four days after this (letter 229), we find that this dinner-party +is not an exceptional one, but one of a series: for he says, ‘To-day +I dine with Kinnaird,—we are to have Sheridan and Colman again; +and to-morrow, once more, at Sir Gilbert Heathcote’s.’</p> +<p>Afterward, in Venice, he reviews the state of his health, at this +period in London; and his account shows that his excesses in the vices +of his times had wrought effects on his sensitive, nervous organisation, +very different from what they might on the more phlegmatic constitutions +of ordinary Englishmen. In his journal, dated Venice, Feb. 2, +1821, he says,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I have been considering what can be the reason +why I always wake at a certain hour in the morning, and always in very +bad spirits,—I may say, in actual despair and despondency, in +all respects, even of that which pleased me over night. In about +an hour or two this goes off, and I compose either to sleep again, or +at least to quiet. In England, five years ago, I had the same +kind of hypochondria, but accompanied with so violent a thirst, that +I have drunk as many as fifteen bottles of soda-water in one night, +after going to bed, and been still thirsty,—calculating, however, +some lost from the bursting-out and effervescence and overflowing of +the soda-water in drawing the corks, or striking off the necks of the +bottles from mere thirsty impatience. At present, I have not the +thirst; but the depression of spirits is no less violent.’—Vol. +v. p.96.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>These extracts go to show what <i>must</i> have been the condition +of the man whom Lady Byron was called to receive at the intervals when +he came back from his various social excitements and pleasures. +That his nerves were exacerbated by violent extremes of abstinence and +reckless indulgence; that he was often day after day drunk, and that +drunkenness made him savage and ferocious,—such are the facts +clearly shown by Mr. Moore’s narrative. Of the natural peculiarities +of Lord Byron’s temper, he thus speaks to the Countess of Blessington:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I often think that I inherit my violence and bad +temper from my poor mother, not that my father, from all I could ever +learn, had a much better; so that it is no wonder I have such a very +bad one. As long as I can remember anything, I recollect being +subject to violent paroxysms of rage, so disproportioned to the cause +as to surprise me when they were over; and this still continues. +I cannot coolly view any thing which excites my feelings; and, once +the lurking devil in me is roused, I lose all command of myself. +I do not recover a good fit of rage for days after. Mind, I do +not by this mean that the ill humour continues, as, on the contrary, +that quickly subsides, exhausted by its own violence; but it shakes +me terribly, and leaves me low and nervous after.’—Lady +Blessington’s Conversations, p.142.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>That during this time also his irritation and ill temper were increased +by the mortification of duns, debts, and executions, is on the face +of Moore’s story. Moore himself relates one incident, which +gives some idea of the many which may have occurred at these times, +in a note on p.215, vol. iv., where he speaks of Lord Byron’s +destroying a favourite old watch that had been his companion from boyhood, +and gone with him to Greece. ‘In a fit of vexation and rage, +brought upon him by some of these humiliating embarrassments, to which +he was now almost daily a prey, he furiously dashed this watch on the +hearth, and ground it to pieces with the poker among the ashes.’</p> +<p>It is no wonder, that, with a man of this kind to manage, Lady Byron +should have clung to the only female companionship she could dare to +trust in the case, and earnestly desired to retain with her the sister, +who seemed, more than herself, to have influence over him.</p> +<p>The first letter given by ‘The Quarterly,’ from Lady +Byron to Mrs. Leigh, without a date, evidently belongs to this period, +when the sister’s society presented itself as a refuge in her +approaching confinement. Mrs Leigh speaks of leaving. The +young wife, conscious that the house presents no attractions, and that +soon she herself shall be laid by, cannot urge Mrs. Leigh’s stay +as likely to give her any pleasure, but only as a comfort to herself.</p> +<blockquote><p>‘You will think me very foolish; but I have tried +two or three times, and cannot talk to you of your departure with a +decent visage: so let me say one word in this way to spare my philosophy. +With the expectations which I have, I never will nor can ask you to +stay one moment longer than you are inclined to do. It would [be] +the worst return for all I ever received from you. But in this +at least I am “truth itself,” when I say, that whatever +the situation may be, there is no one whose society is dearer to me, +or can contribute more to my happiness. These feelings will not +change under any circumstances, and I should be grieved if you did not +understand them. Should you hereafter condemn me, I shall not +love you less. I will say no more. Judge for yourself about +going or staying. I wish you to consider yourself, if you could +be wise enough to do that, for the first time in your life.</p> +<p> ‘Thine,</p> +<p> ‘A. +I. B.’</p> +<p>Addressed on the cover, ‘To The Hon. Mrs. Leigh.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This letter not being dated, we have no clue but what we obtain from +its own internal evidence. It certainly is not written in Lady +Byron’s usual clear and elegant style; and is, in this respect, +in striking contrast to all her letters that I have ever seen.</p> +<p>But the notes written by a young woman under such peculiar and distressing +circumstances must not be judged by the standard of calmer hours.</p> +<p>Subsequently to this letter, and during that stormy, irrational period +when Lord Byron’s conduct became daily more and more unaccountable, +may have come that startling scene in which Lord Byron took every pains +to convince his wife of improper relations subsisting between himself +and his sister.</p> +<p>What an <i>utter</i> desolation this must have been to the wife, +tearing from her the last hold of friendship, and the last refuge to +which she had clung in her sorrows, may easily be conceived.</p> +<p>In this crisis, it appears that the <i>sister</i> convinced Lady +Byron that the whole was to be attributed to insanity. It would +be a conviction gladly accepted, and bringing infinite relief, although +still surrounding her path with fearful difficulties.</p> +<p>That such was the case is plainly asserted by Lady Byron in her statement +published in 1830. Speaking of her separation, Lady Byron says:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The facts are, I left London for Kirkby Mallory, +the residence of my father and mother, on the 15th of January, 1816. +Lord Byron had signified to me in writing, Jan. 6, his absolute desire +that I should leave London on the earliest day that I could conveniently +fix. It was not safe for me to encounter the fatigues of a journey +sooner than the 15th. Previously to my departure, it had been +strongly impressed on my mind that Lord Byron was under the influence +of insanity.</p> +<p>‘This opinion was in a great measure derived from the communications +made to me by his nearest relatives and personal attendant’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Now there was no nearer relative than Mrs. Leigh; and the personal +attendant was Fletcher. It was therefore presumably Mrs. Leigh +who convinced Lady Byron of her husband’s insanity.</p> +<p>Lady Byron says, ‘It was even represented to me that he was +in danger of destroying himself.</p> +<p>‘<i>With the concurrence</i> of his family, I had consulted +with Dr. Baillie, as a friend, on Jan. 8, as to his supposed malady.’ +Now, Lord Byron’s written order for her to leave came on Jan. +6. It appears, then, that Lady Byron, acting in concurrence with +Mrs. Leigh and others of her husband’s family, consulted Dr. Baillie, +on Jan. 8, as to what she should do; the symptoms presented to Dr. Baillie +being, evidently, insane hatred of his wife on the part of Lord Byron, +and a determination to get her out of the house. Lady Byron goes +on:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘On acquainting him with the state of the case, +and with Lord Byron’s desire that I should leave London, Dr. Baillie +thought my absence might be advisable as an experiment, assuming the +fact of mental derangement; for Dr. Baillie, not having had access to +Lord Byron, could not pronounce an opinion on that point. He enjoined, +that, in correspondence with Lord Byron, I should avoid all but light +and soothing topics. Under these impressions, I left London, determined +to follow the advice given me by Dr. Baillie. Whatever might have +been the nature of Lord Byron’s treatment of me from the time +of my marriage, yet, supposing him to have been in a state of mental +alienation, it was not for me, nor for any person of common humanity, +to manifest at that moment a sense of injury.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It appears, then, that the domestic situation in Byron’s house +at the time of his wife’s expulsion was one so grave as to call +for family counsel; for Lady Byron, generally accurate, speaks in the +plural number. ‘His <i>nearest</i> relatives’ certainly +includes Mrs. Leigh. ‘His family’ includes more. +That some of Lord Byron’s own relatives were cognisant of facts +at this time, and that they took Lady Byron’s side, is shown by +one of his own chance admissions. In vol. vi. p.394, in a letter +on Bowles, he says, speaking of this time, <i>‘All my relations</i>, +save one, fell from me like leaves from a tree in autumn.’ +And in Medwin’s Conversations he says, ‘Even my cousin George +Byron, who had been brought up with me, and whom I loved as a brother, +took my wife’s part.’ The conduct must have been marked +in the extreme that led to this result.</p> +<p>We cannot help stopping here to say that Lady Byron’s situation +at this time has been discussed in our days with a want of ordinary +human feeling that is surprising. Let any father and mother, reading +this, look on their own daughter, and try to make the case their own.</p> +<p>After a few short months of married life,—months full of patient +endurance of the strangest and most unaccountable treatment,—she +comes to them, expelled from her husband’s house, an object of +hatred and aversion to him, and having to settle for herself the awful +question, whether he is a dangerous madman or a determined villain.</p> +<p>Such was this young wife’s situation.</p> +<p>With a heart at times wrung with compassion for her husband as a +helpless maniac, and fearful that all may end in suicide, yet compelled +to leave him, she writes on the road the much-quoted letter, beginning +‘Dear Duck.’ This is an exaggerated and unnatural +letter, it is true, but of precisely the character that might be expected +from an inexperienced young wife when dealing with a husband supposed +to be insane.</p> +<p>The next day, she addressed to Augusta this letter:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘MY DEAREST A.,—It is my great comfort that +you are still in Piccadilly.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And again, on the 23rd:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘DEAREST A.,—I know you feel for me, as I +do for you; and perhaps I am better understood than I think. You +have been, ever since I knew you, my best comforter; and will so remain, +unless you grow tired of the office,—which may well be.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We can see here how self-denying and heroic appears to Lady Byron +the conduct of the sister, who patiently remains to soothe and guide +and restrain the moody madman, whose madness takes a form, at times, +so repulsive to every womanly feeling. She intimates that she +should not wonder should Augusta grow weary of the office.</p> +<p>Lady Byron continues her statement thus:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘When I arrived at Kirkby Mallory, my parents were +unacquainted with the existence of any causes likely to destroy my prospects +of happiness; and, when I communicated to them the opinion that had +been formed concerning Lord Byron’s state of mind, they were most +anxious to promote his restoration by every means in their power. +They assured those relations that were with him in London that “they +would devote their whole case and attention to the alleviation of his +malady.”’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Here we have a <i>quotation</i> <a name="citation190a"></a><a href="#footnote190a">{190a}</a> +from a letter written by Lady Milbanke to the anxious ‘relations’ +who are taking counsel about Lord Byron in town. Lady Byron also +adds, in justification of her mother from Lord Byron’s slanders, +‘She had always treated him with an affectionate consideration +and indulgence, which extended to every little peculiarity of his feelings. +Never did an irritating word escape her lips in her whole intercourse +with him.’</p> +<p>Now comes a remarkable part of Lady Byron’s statement:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The accounts given me after I left Lord Byron, +by those in constant intercourse with him, <a name="citation190b"></a><a href="#footnote190b">{190b}</a> +added to those doubts which had before transiently occurred to my mind +as to the reality of the alleged disease; and the reports of his medical +attendants were far from establishing anything like lunacy.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>When these doubts arose in her mind, it is not natural to suppose +that they should, at first, involve Mrs. Leigh. She still appears +to Lady Byron as the devoted, believing sister, fully convinced of her +brother’s insanity, and endeavouring to restrain and control him.</p> +<p>But if Lord Byron were sane, if the purposes he had avowed to his +wife were real, he must have lied about his sister in the past, and +perhaps have the worst intentions for the future.</p> +<p>The horrors of that state of vacillation between the conviction of +insanity and the commencing conviction of something worse can scarcely +be told.</p> +<p>At all events, the wife’s doubts extend so far that she speaks +out to her parents. ‘UNDER THIS UNCERTAINTY,’ says +the statement, ‘I deemed it right to communicate to my parents, +that, if I were to consider Lord Byron’s past conduct as that +of a person of sound mind, <i>nothing could induce me to return to him</i>. +It therefore appeared expedient, both to them and to myself, to consult +the ablest advisers. For that object, and also to obtain still +further information respecting appearances which indicated mental derangement, +my mother determined to go to London. She was empowered by me +to take legal opinion on a written statement of mine; though I then +had reasons for reserving a <i>part of the case from the knowledge even +of my father and mother</i>.’</p> +<p>It is during this time of uncertainty that the next letter to Mrs. +Leigh may be placed. It seems to be rather a fragment of a letter +than a whole one: perhaps it is an extract; in which case it would be +desirable, if possible, to view it in connection with the remaining +text:—</p> +<blockquote><p> Jan. +25, 1816.</p> +<p>‘MY DEAREST AUGUSTA,—Shall I still be your sister? +I must resign my right to be so considered; but I don’t think +that will make any difference in the kindness I have so uniformly experienced +from you.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This fragment is not signed, nor finished in any way, but indicates +that the writer is about to take a decisive step.</p> +<p>On the 17th, as we have seen, Lady Milbanke had written, inviting +Lord Byron. Subsequently she went to London to make more particular +inquiries into his state. This fragment seems part of a letter +from Lady Byron, called forth in view of some evidence resulting from +her mother’s observations. <a name="citation192"></a><a href="#footnote192">{192}</a></p> +<p>Lady Byron now adds,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Being convinced by the result of these inquiries, +and by the tenour of Lord Byron’s proceedings, that the notion +of insanity was an illusion, I no longer hesitated to authorize such +measures as were necessary in order to secure me from ever being again +placed in his power.</p> +<p>‘Conformably with this resolution, my father wrote to him, +on the 2nd of February, to request an amicable separation.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The following letter to Mrs. Leigh is dated the day after this application, +and is in many respects a noticeable one:—</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘KIRKBY +MALLORY, Feb. 3, 1816.</p> +<p>‘MY DEAREST AUGUSTA,—You are desired by your brother +to ask if my father has acted with my concurrence in proposing a separation. +He has. It cannot be supposed, that, in my present distressing +situation, I am capable of stating in a detailed manner the reasons +which will not only justify this measure, but compel me to take it; +and it never can be my wish to remember unnecessarily [sic] those injuries +for which, however deep, I feel no resentment. I will now only +recall to Lord Byron’s mind his avowed and insurmountable aversion +to the married state, and the desire and determination he has expressed +ever since its commencement to free himself from that bondage, as finding +it quite insupportable, though candidly acknowledging that no effort +of duty or affection has been wanting on my part. He has too painfully +convinced me that all these attempts to contribute towards his happiness +were wholly useless, and most unwelcome to him. I enclose this +letter to my father, wishing it to receive his sanction.</p> +<p> ‘Ever +yours most affectionately,</p> +<p> ‘A. +I. BYRON.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We observe in this letter that it is written to <i>be shown</i> to +Lady Byron’s father, and receive his sanction; and, as that father +was in ignorance of all the deeper causes of trouble in the case, it +will be seen that the letter must necessarily be a reserved one. +This sufficiently accounts for the guarded character of the language +when speaking of the causes of separation. One part of the letter +incidentally overthrows Lord Byron’s statement, which he always +repeated during his life, and which is repeated for him now; namely, +that his wife <i>forsook</i> him, instead of being, as she claims, <i>expelled</i> +by him.</p> +<p>She recalls to Lord Byron’s mind the ‘desire and <i>determination</i> +he has expressed ever since his marriage to free himself from its bondage.’</p> +<p>This is in perfect keeping with the <i>‘absolute</i> desire,’ +signified by writing, that she should leave his house on the earliest +day possible; and she places the cause of the separation on his having +‘too painfully’ convinced her that he does not want her—as +a wife.</p> +<p>It appears that Augusta hesitates to show this note to her brother. +It is bringing on a crisis which she, above all others, would most wish +to avoid.</p> +<p>In the meantime, Lady Byron receives a letter from Lord Byron, which +makes her feel it more than ever essential to make the decision final. +I have reason to believe that this letter is preserved in Lady Byron’s +papers:—</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘Feb. +4, 1816.</p> +<p>‘I hope, my dear A., that you would on no account withhold +from your brother the letter which I sent yesterday in answer to yours +written by his desire, particularly as one which I have received from +himself to-day renders it still more important that he should know the +contents of that addressed to you. I am, in haste and not very +well,</p> +<p> ‘Yours +most affectionately,</p> +<p> ‘A. +I. BYRON.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The last of this series of letters is less like the style of Lady +Byron than any of them. We cannot judge whether it is a whole +consecutive letter, or fragments from a letter, selected and united. +There is a great want of that clearness and precision which usually +characterised Lady Byron’s style. It shows, however, that +the decision is made,—a decision which she regrets on account +of the sister who has tried so long to prevent it.</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘KIRKBY +MALLORY, Feb. 14, 1816.</p> +<p>‘The present sufferings of all may yet be repaid in blessings. +Do not despair absolutely, dearest; and leave me but enough of your +interest to afford you any consolation by partaking of that sorrow which +I am most unhappy to cause thus unintentionally. You will be of +my opinion hereafter; and at present your bitterest reproach would be +forgiven, though Heaven knows you have considered me more than a thousand +would have done,—more than anything but my affection for B., one +most dear to you, could deserve. I must not remember these feelings. +Farewell! God bless you from the bottom of my heart!</p> +<p> ‘A. +I. B.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We are here to consider that Mrs. Leigh has stood to Lady Byron in +all this long agony as her only confidante and friend; that she has +denied the charges her brother has made, and referred them to insanity, +admitting insane <i>attempts</i> upon herself which she has been obliged +to watch over and control.</p> +<p>Lady Byron has come to the conclusion that Augusta is mistaken as +to insanity; that there is a real wicked purpose and desire on the part +of the brother, not as yet believed in by the sister. She regards +the sister as one, who, though deceived and blinded, is still worthy +of confidence and consideration; and so says to her, <i>‘You will +be of my opinion hereafter</i>.’</p> +<p>She says, ‘You have considered me more than a thousand would +have done.’ Mrs. Leigh is, in Lady Byron’s eyes, a +most abused and innocent woman, who, to spare her sister in her delicate +situation, has taken on herself the whole charge of a maniacal brother, +although suffering from him language and actions of the most injurious +kind. That Mrs. Leigh did not flee the house at once under such +circumstances, and wholly decline the management of the case, seems +to Lady Byron consideration and self-sacrifice greater than she can +acknowledge.</p> +<p>The knowledge of the <i>whole extent of the truth</i> came to Lady +Byron’s mind at a later period.</p> +<p>We now take up the history from Lushington’s letter to Lady +Byron, published at the close of her statement.</p> +<p>The application to Lord Byron for an act of separation was positively +refused at first; it being an important part of his policy that all +the responsibility and insistence should come from his wife, and that +he should appear forced into it contrary to his will.</p> +<p>Dr. Lushington, however, says to Lady Byron,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I was originally consulted by Lady Noel on your +behalf while you were in the country. The circumstances detailed +by her were such as justified a separation; but they were not of that +aggravated description as to render such a measure indispensable. +On Lady Noel’s representations, I deemed a reconciliation with +Lord Byron practicable, and felt most sincerely a wish to aid in effecting +it. There was not, on Lady Noel’s part, any exaggeration +of the facts, nor, so far as I could perceive, any determination to +prevent a return to Lord Byron: certainly none was expressed when I +spoke of a reconciliation.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In this crisis, with Lord Byron refusing the separation, with Lushington +expressing a wish to aid in a reconciliation, and Lady Noel not expressing +any aversion to it, the whole strain of the dreadful responsibility +comes upon the wife.</p> +<p>She resolves to ask counsel of her lawyer, in view of a statement +of the <i>whole</i> case.</p> +<p>Lady Byron is spoken of by Lord Byron (letter 233) as being in town +with her father on the 29th of February; viz., fifteen days after the +date of the last letter to Mrs. Leigh. It must have been about +this time, then, that she laid her whole case before Lushington; and +he gave it a thorough examination.</p> +<p>The result was, that Lushington expressed in the most decided terms +his conviction that reconciliation was impossible. The language +be uses is very striking:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘When you came to town in about a fortnight, or +perhaps more, after my first interview with Lady Noel, I was, for the +first time, informed by you of facts utterly unknown, as I have no doubt, +to Sir Ralph and Lady Noel. On receiving this additional information, +my opinion was entirely changed. I considered a reconciliation +impossible. I declared my opinion, and added, that, if such an +idea should be entertained, I could not, either professionally or otherwise, +take any part towards effecting it.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It does not appear in this note what effect the lawyer’s examination +of the case had on Lady Byron’s mind. By the expressions +he uses, we should infer that she may still have been hesitating as +to whether a reconciliation might not be her duty.</p> +<p>This hesitancy he does away with most decisively, saying, ‘A +reconciliation is impossible;’ and, supposing Lady Byron or her +friends desirous of one, he declares positively that he cannot, either +professionally as a lawyer or privately as a friend, have anything to +do with effecting it.</p> +<p>The lawyer, it appears, has drawn, from the facts of the case, inferences +deeper and stronger than those which presented themselves to the mind +of the young woman; and he instructs her in the most absolute terms.</p> +<p>Fourteen years after, in 1830, for the first time the world was astonished +by this declaration from Dr. Lushington, in language so pronounced and +positive that there could be no mistake.</p> +<p>Lady Byron had stood all these fourteen years slandered by her husband, +and misunderstood by his friends, when, had she so chosen, this opinion +of Dr. Lushington’s could have been at once made public, which +fully justified her conduct.</p> +<p>If, as the ‘Blackwood’ of July insinuates, the story +told to Lushington was a malignant slander, meant to injure Lord Byron, +why did she suppress the judgment of her counsel at a time when all +the world was on her side, and this decision would have been the decisive +blow against her husband? Why, by sealing the lips of counsel, +and of all whom she could influence, did she deprive herself finally +of the very advantage for which it has been assumed she fabricated the +story?</p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV. THE CHARACTER OF THE TWO WITNESSES COMPARED.</h3> +<p>It will be observed, that, in this controversy, we are confronting +two opposing stories,—one of Lord and the other of Lady Byron; +and the statements from each are in point-blank contradiction.</p> +<p>Lord Byron states that his wife deserted him. Lady Byron states +that he expelled her, and reminds him, in her letter to Augusta Leigh, +that the expulsion was a deliberate one, and that he had purposed it +from the beginning of their marriage.</p> +<p>Lord Byron always stated that he was ignorant why his wife left him, +and was desirous of her return. Lady Byron states that he told +her that he would force her to leave him, and to leave him in such a +way that the whole blame of the separation should always rest on her, +and not on him.</p> +<p>To say nothing of any deeper or darker accusations on either side, +here, in the very outworks of the story, the two meet point-blank.</p> +<p>In considering two opposing stories, we always, as a matter of fact, +take into account the character of the witnesses.</p> +<p>If a person be literal and exact in his usual modes of speech, reserved, +careful, conscientious, and in the habit of observing minutely the minor +details of time, place, and circumstances, we give weight to his testimony +from these considerations. But if a person be proved to have singular +and exceptional principles with regard to truth; if he be universally +held by society to be so in the habit of mystification, that large allowances +must be made for his statements; if his assertions at one time contradict +those made at another; and if his statements, also, sometimes come in +collision with those of his best friends, so that, when his language +is reported, difficulties follow, and explanations are made necessary,—all +this certainly disqualifies him from being considered a trustworthy +witness.</p> +<p>All these disqualifications belong in a remarkable degree to Lord +Byron, on the oft-repeated testimony of his best friends.</p> +<p>We shall first cite the following testimony, given in an article +from ‘Under the Crown,’ which is written by an early friend +and ardent admirer of Lord Byron:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Byron had one pre-eminent fault,—a fault +which must be considered as deeply criminal by everyone who does not, +as I do, believe it to have resulted from monomania. He had a +morbid love of a bad reputation. There was hardly an offence of +which he would not, with perfect indifference, accuse himself. +An old schoolfellow who met him on the Continent told me that he would +continually write paragraphs against himself in the foreign journals, +and delight in their republication by the English newspapers as in the +success of a practical joke. Whenever anybody has related anything +discreditable of Byron, assuring me that it must be true, for he heard +it from himself, I always felt that he could not have spoken upon worse +authority; and that, in all probability, the tale was a pure invention. +If I could remember, and were willing to repeat, the various misdoings +which I have from time to time heard him attribute to himself, I could +fill a volume. But I never believed them. I very soon became +aware of this strange idiosyncrasy: it puzzled me to account for it; +but there it was, a sort of diseased and distorted vanity. The +same eccentric spirit would induce him to report things which were false +with regard to his family, which anybody else would have concealed, +though true. He told me more than once that his father was insane, +and killed himself. I shall never forget the manner in which he +first told me this. While washing his hands, and singing a gay +Neapolitan air, he stopped, looked round at me, and said, “There +always was madness in the family.” Then, after continuing +his washing and his song, he added, as if speaking of a matter of the +slightest indifference, “My father cut his throat.” +The contrast between the tenour of the subject and the levity of the +expression was fearfully painful: it was like a stanza of “Don +Juan.” In this instance, I had no doubt that the fact was +as he related it; but in speaking of it, only a few years since, to +an old lady in whom I had perfect confidence, she assured me that it +was not so. Mr. Byron, who was her cousin, had been extremely +wild, but was quite sane, and had died very quietly in his bed. +What Byron’s reason could have been for thus calumniating not +only himself but the blood which was flowing in his veins, who can divine? +But, for some reason or other, it seemed to be his determined purpose +to keep himself unknown to the great body of his fellow-creatures; to +present himself to their view in moral masquerade.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Certainly the character of Lord Byron here given by his friend is +not the kind to make him a trustworthy witness in any case: on the contrary, +it seems to show either a subtle delight in falsehood for falsehood’s +sake, or else the wary artifices of a man who, having a deadly secret +to conceal, employs many turnings and windings to throw the world off +the scent. What intriguer, having a crime to cover, could devise +a more artful course than to send half a dozen absurd stories to the +press, which should, after a while, be traced back to himself, till +the public should gradually look on all it heard from him as the result +of this eccentric humour?</p> +<p>The easy, trifling air with which Lord Byron made to this friend +a false statement in regard to his father would lead naturally to the +inquiry, on what <i>other</i> subjects, equally important to the good +name of others, he might give false testimony with equal indifference.</p> +<p>When Medwin’s ‘Conversations with Lord Byron’ were +first published, they contained a number of declarations of the noble +lord affecting the honour and honesty of his friend and publisher Murray. +These appear to have been made in the same way as those about his father, +and with equal indifference. So serious were the charges, that +Mr. Murray’s friends felt that he ought, in justice to himself, +to come forward and confront them with the facts as stated in Byron’s +letters to himself; and in vol. x., p.143, of Murray’s standard +edition, accordingly these false statements are confronted with the +letters of Lord Byron. The statements, as reported, are of a most +material and vital nature, relating to Murray’s financial honour +and honesty, and to his general truthfulness and sincerity. In +reply, Murray opposes to them the accounts of sums paid for different +works, and letters from Byron exactly contradicting his own statements +as to Murray’s character.</p> +<p>The subject, as we have seen, was discussed in ‘The Noctes.’ +No doubt appears to be entertained that Byron made the statements to +Medwin; and the theory of accounting for them is, that ‘Byron +was “bamming” him.’</p> +<p>It seems never to have occurred to any of these credulous gentlemen, +who laughed at others for being ‘bammed,’ that Byron might +be doing the very same thing by themselves. How many of his so-called +packages sent to Lady Byron were <i>real</i> packages, and how many +were mystifications? We find, in two places at least in his Memoir, +letters to Lady Byron, written and shown to others, which, he says, +were never sent by him. He told Lady Blessington that he was in +the habit of writing to her <i>constantly</i>. Was this ‘bamming’? +Was he ‘bamming,’ also, when he told the world that Lady +Byron suddenly deserted him, quite to his surprise, and that he never, +to his dying day, could find out why?</p> +<p>Lady Blessington relates, that, in one of his conversations with +her, he entertained her by repeating epigrams and lampoons, in which +many of his friends were treated with severity. She inquired of +him, in case he should die, and such proofs of his friendship come before +the public, what would be the feelings of these friends, who had supposed +themselves to stand so high in his good graces. She says,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘“That,” said Byron, “is precisely +one of the ideas that most amuses me. I often fancy the rage and +humiliation of my quondam friends in hearing the truth, at least from +me, for the first time, and when I am beyond the reach of their malice. +. . . What grief,” continued Byron, laughing, “could +resist the charges of ugliness, dulness, or any of the thousand nameless +defects, personal or mental, ‘that flesh is heir to,’ when +reprisal or recantation was impossible? . . . People are in such +daily habits of commenting on the defects of friends, that they are +unconscious of the unkindness of it. . . Now, I write down as well as +speak my sentiments of those who think they have gulled me; and I only +wish, in case I die before them, that I might return to witness the +effects my posthumous opinions of them are likely to produce in their +minds. What good fun this would be! . . . You don’t +seem to value this as you ought,” said Byron with one of his sardonic +smiles, seeing I looked, as I really felt, surprised at his avowed insincerity. +“I feel the same pleasure in anticipating the rage and mortification +of my soi-disant friends at the discovery of my real sentiments of them, +that a miser may be supposed to feel while making a will that will disappoint +all the expectants that have been toadying him for years. Then +how amusing it will be to compare my posthumous with my previously given +opinions, the one throwing ridicule on the other!”’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is asserted, in a note to ‘The Noctes,’ that Byron, +besides his Autobiography, prepared a voluminous dictionary of all his +friends and acquaintances, in which brief notes of their persons and +character were given, with his opinion of them. It was not considered +that the publication of this would add to the noble lord’s popularity; +and it has never appeared.</p> +<p>In Hunt’s Life of Byron, there is similar testimony. +Speaking of Byron’s carelessness in exposing his friends’ +secrets, and showing or giving away their letters, he says,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘If his five hundred confidants, by a reticence +as remarkable as his laxity, had not kept his secrets better than he +did himself, the very devil might have been played with I don’t +know how many people. But there was always this saving reflection +to be made, that the man who could be guilty of such extravagances for +the sake of making an impression might be guilty of exaggeration, or +inventing what astonished you; and indeed, though he was a speaker of +the truth on ordinary occasions,—that is to say, he did not tell +you he had seen a dozen horses when he had seen only two,—yet, +as he professed not to value the truth when in the way of his advantage +(and there was nothing he thought more to his advantage than making +you stare at him), the persons who were liable to suffer from his incontinence +had all the right in the world to the benefit of this consideration.’ +<a name="citation205a"></a><a href="#footnote205a">{205a}</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>With a person of such mental and moral habits as to truth, the inquiry +always must be, <i>Where</i> does mystification end, and truth begin?</p> +<p>If a man is careless about his father’s reputation for sanity, +and reports him a crazy suicide; if he gaily accuses his publisher and +good friend of double-dealing, shuffling, and dishonesty; if he tells +stories about Mrs. Clermont, <a name="citation205b"></a><a href="#footnote205b">{205b}</a> +to which his sister offers a public refutation,—is it to be supposed +that he will always tell the truth about his wife, when the world is +pressing him hard, and every instinct of self-defence is on the alert?</p> +<p>And then the ingenuity that could write and publish false documents +about himself, that they might reappear in London papers,—to what +other accounts might it not be turned? Might it not create documents, +invent statements, about his wife as well as himself?</p> +<p>The document so ostentatiously given to M. G. Lewis ‘for circulation +among friends in England’ was a specimen of what the Noctes Club +would call ‘bamming.’</p> +<p>If Byron wanted a legal investigation, why did he not take it in +the first place, instead of signing the separation? If he wanted +to cancel it, as he said in this document, why did he not go to London, +and enter a suit for the restitution of conjugal rights, or a suit in +chancery to get possession of his daughter? That this was in his +mind, passages in Medwin’s ‘Conversations’ show. +He told Lady Blessington also that he might claim his daughter in chancery +at any time.</p> +<p>Why did he not do it? Either of these two steps would have +brought on that public investigation he so longed for. Can it +be possible that all the friends who passed this private document from +hand to hand never suspected that they were being ‘bammed’ +by it?</p> +<p>But it has been universally assumed, that, though Byron was thus +remarkably given to mystification, yet <i>all</i> his statements in +regard to this story are to be accepted, simply because he makes them. +<i>Why</i> must we accept them, any more than his statements as to Murray +or his own father?</p> +<p>So we constantly find Lord Byron’s incidental statements coming +in collision with those of others: for example, in his account of his +marriage, he tells Medwin that Lady Byron’s maid was put between +his bride and himself, on the same seat, in the wedding journey. +The lady’s maid herself, Mrs. Mimms, says she was sent before +them to Halnaby, and was there to receive them when they alighted.</p> +<p>He said of Lady Byron’s mother, ‘She always detested +me, and had not the decency to conceal it in her own house. Dining +with her one day, I broke a tooth, and was in great pain; which I could +not help showing. “It will do you good,” said Lady +Noel; “I am glad of it!”’</p> +<p>Lady Byron says, speaking of her mother, ‘She always treated +him with an affectionate consideration and indulgence, which extended +to every little peculiarity of his feelings. Never did an irritating +word escape her.’</p> +<p>Lord Byron states that the correspondence between him and Lady Byron, +after his refusal, was first opened by her. Lady Byron’s +friends deny the statement, and assert that the direct contrary is the +fact.</p> +<p>Thus we see that Lord Byron’s statements are directly opposed +to those of his family in relation to his father; directly against Murray’s +accounts, and his own admission to Murray; directly against the statement +of the lady’s maid as to her position in the journey; directly +against Mrs. Leigh’s as to Mrs. Clermont, and against Lady Byron +as to her mother.</p> +<p>We can see, also, that these misstatements were so fully perceived +by the men of his times, that Medwin’s ‘Conversations’ +were simply laughed at as an amusing instance of how far a man might +be made the victim of a mystification. Christopher North thus +sentences the book:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I don’t mean to call Medwin a liar . . . +The captain lies, sir, but it is under a thousand mistakes. Whether +Byron bammed him, or he, by virtue of his own egregious stupidity, was +the sole and sufficient bammifier of himself, I know not; neither greatly +do I care. This much is certain, . . . that the book throughout +is full of things that were not, and most resplendently deficient quoad +the things that were.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Yet it is on Medwin’s ‘Conversations’ alone that +many of the magazine assertions in regard to Lady Byron are founded.</p> +<p>It is on that authority that Lady Byron is accused of breaking open +her husband’s writing-desk in his absence, and sending the letters +she found there to the husband of a lady compromised by them; and likewise +that Lord Byron is declared to have paid back his wife’s ten-thousand-pound +wedding portion, and doubled it. Moore makes no such statements; +and his remarks about Lord Byron’s use of his wife’s money +are unmistakable evidence to the contrary. Moore, although Byron’s +ardent partisan, was too well informed to make assertions with regard +to him, which, at that time, it would have been perfectly easy to refute.</p> +<p>All these facts go to show that Lord Byron’s character for +accuracy or veracity was not such as to entitle him to ordinary confidence +as a witness, especially in a case where he had the strongest motives +for misstatement.</p> +<p>And if we consider that the celebrated Autobiography was the finished, +careful work of such a practised ‘mystifier,’ who can wonder +that it presented a web of such intermingled truth and lies that there +was no such thing as disentangling it, and pointing out where falsehood +ended and truth began?</p> +<p>But in regard to Lady Byron, what has been the universal impression +of the world? It has been alleged against her that she was a precise, +straightforward woman, so accustomed to plain, literal dealings, that +she could not understand the various mystifications of her husband; +and from that cause arose her unhappiness. Byron speaks, in ‘The +Sketch,’ of her <i>peculiar</i> truthfulness; and even in the +‘Clytemnestra’ poem, when accusing her of lying, he speaks +of her as departing from</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The early truth that was her proper praise.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Lady Byron’s careful accuracy as to dates, to time, place, +and circumstances, will probably be vouched for by all the very large +number of persons whom the management of her extended property and her +works of benevolence brought to act as co-operators or agents with her. +She was not a person in the habit of making exaggerated or ill-considered +statements. Her published statement of 1830 is clear, exact, accurate, +and perfectly intelligible. The dates are carefully ascertained +and stated, the expressions are moderate, and all the assertions firm +and perfectly definite.</p> +<p>It therefore seems remarkable that the whole reasoning on this Byron +matter has generally been conducted by assuming all Lord Byron’s +statements to be true, and requiring all Lady Byron’s statements +to be sustained by other evidence.</p> +<p>If Lord Byron asserts that his wife deserted him, the assertion is +accepted without proof; but, if Lady Byron asserts that he ordered her +to leave, that requires proof. Lady Byron asserts that she took +counsel, on this order of Lord Byron, with his family friends and physician, +under the idea that it originated in insanity. The ‘Blackwood’ +asks, “<i>What</i> family friends?’ says it doesn’t +know of any; and asks proof.</p> +<p>If Lord Byron asserts that he always longed for a public investigation +of the charges against him, the ‘Quarterly’ and ‘Blackwood’ +quote the saying with ingenuous confidence. They are obliged to +admit that he refused to stand that public test; that he signed the +deed of separation rather than meet it. They know, also, that +he could have at any time instituted suits against Lady Byron that would +have brought the whole matter into court, and that he did not. +Why did he not? The ‘Quarterly’ simply intimates that +such suits would have been unpleasant. Why? On account of +personal delicacy? The man that wrote ‘Don Juan,’ +and furnished the details of his wedding-night, held back from clearing +his name by delicacy! It is astonishing to what extent this controversy +has consisted in simply repeating Lord Byron’s assertions over +and over again, and calling the result proof.</p> +<p>Now, we propose a different course. As Lady Byron is not stated +by her warm admirers to have had <i>any</i> monomania for speaking untruths +on any subject, we rank her value as a witness at a higher rate than +Lord Byron’s. She never accused her parents of madness or +suicide, merely to make a sensation; never ‘bammed’ an acquaintance +by false statements concerning the commercial honour of anyone with +whom she was in business relations; never wrote and sent to the press +as a clever jest false statements about herself; and never, in any other +ingenious way, tampered with truth. We therefore hold it to be +a mere dictate of reason and common sense, that, in all cases where +her statements conflict with her husband’s, hers are to be taken +as the more trustworthy.</p> +<p>The ‘London Quarterly,’ in a late article, distinctly +repudiates Lady Byron’s statements as sources of evidence, and +throughout quotes statements of Lord Byron as if they had the force +of self-evident propositions. We consider such a course contrary +to common sense as well as common good manners.</p> +<p>The state of the case is just this: If Lord Byron did not make false +statements on this subject it was certainly an exception to his usual +course. He certainly did make such on a great variety of other +subjects. By his own showing, he had a peculiar pleasure in falsifying +language, and in misleading and betraying even his friends.</p> +<p>But, if Lady Byron gave false witness upon this subject, it was an +exception to the whole course of her life.</p> +<p>The habits of her mind, the government of her conduct, her life-long +reputation, all were those of a literal, exact truthfulness.</p> +<p>The accusation of her being untruthful was first brought forward +by her husband in the ‘Clytemnestra’ poem, in the autumn +of 1816; but it never was publicly circulated till after his death, +and it was first formally made the basis of a published attack on Lady +Byron in the July ‘Blackwood’ of 1869. Up to that +time, we look in vain through current literature for any indications +that the world regarded Lady Byron otherwise than as a cold, careful, +prudent woman, who made no assertions, and had no confidants. +When she spoke in 1830, it is perfectly evident that Christopher North +and his circle believed what she said, though reproving her for saying +it at all.</p> +<p>The ‘Quarterly’ goes on to heap up a number of vague +assertions,—that Lady Byron, about the time of her separation, +made a confidant of a young officer; that she told the clergyman of +Ham of some trials with Lord Ockham; and that she told stories of different +things at different times.</p> +<p>All this is not proof: it is mere assertion, and assertion made to +produce prejudice. It is like raising a whirlwind of sand to blind +the eyes that are looking for landmarks. It is quite probable +Lady Byron told different stories about Lord Byron at various times. +No woman could have a greater variety of stories to tell; and no woman +ever was so persecuted and pursued and harassed, both by public literature +and private friendship, to say <i>something</i>. She had plenty +of causes for a separation, without the fatal and final one. In +her conversations with Lady Anne Barnard, for example, she gives reasons +enough for a separation, though none of them are the chief one. +It is not <i>different</i> stories, but <i>contradictory</i> stories, +that must be relied on to disprove the credibility of a witness. +The ‘Quarterly’ has certainly told a great number of different +stories,—stories which may prove as irreconcilable with each other +as any attributed to Lady Byron; but its denial of all weight to her +testimony is simply begging the whole question under consideration.</p> +<p>A man gives testimony about the causes of a railroad accident, being +the only eye-witness.</p> +<p>The opposing counsel begs, whatever else you do, you will not admit +that man’s testimony. You ask, ‘Why? Has he +ever been accused of want of veracity on other subjects?’—‘No: +he has stood high as a man of probity and honour for years.’—‘Why, +then, throw out his testimony?’</p> +<p>‘Because he lies in this instance,’ says the adversary: +‘his testimony does not agree with this and that.’—‘Pardon +me, that is the very point in question,’ say you: ‘we expect +to prove that it does agree with this and that.’</p> +<p>Because certain letters of Lady Byron’s do not agree with the +‘Quarterly’s’ theory of the facts of the separation, +it at once assumes that she is an untruthful witness, and proposes to +throw out her evidence altogether.</p> +<p>We propose, on the contrary, to regard Lady Byron’s evidence +with all the attention due to the statement of a high-minded conscientious +person, never in any other case accused of violation of truth; we also +propose to show it to be in strict agreement with all well-authenticated +facts and documents; and we propose to treat Lord Byron’s evidence +as that of a man of great subtlety, versed in mystification and delighting +in it, and who, on many other subjects, not only deceived, but gloried +in deception; and then we propose to show that it contradicts well-established +facts and received documents.</p> +<p>One thing more we have to say concerning the laws of evidence in +regard to documents presented in this investigation.</p> +<p>This is not a London West-End affair, but a grave historical inquiry, +in which the whole English-speaking world are interested to know the +truth.</p> +<p>As it is now too late to have the securities of a legal trial, certainly +the rules of historical evidence should be strictly observed. +All important documents should be presented in an entire state, with +a plain and open account of their history,—who had them, where +they were found, and how preserved.</p> +<p>There have been most excellent, credible, and authentic documents +produced in this case; and, as a specimen of them, we shall mention +Lord Lindsay’s letter, and the journal and letter it authenticates. +Lord Lindsay at once comes forward, gives his name boldly, gives the +history of the papers he produces, shows how they came to be in his +hands, why never produced before, and why now. We feel confidence +at once.</p> +<p>But in regard to the important series of letters presented as Lady +Byron’s, this obviously proper course has not been pursued. +Though assumed to be of the most critical importance, no such distinct +history of them was given in the first instance. The want of such +evidence being noticed by other papers, the ‘Quarterly’ +appears hurt that the high character of the magazine has not been a +sufficient guarantee; and still deals in vague statements that the letters +have been freely circulated, and that two noblemen of the highest character +would vouch for them if necessary.</p> +<p>In our view, <i>it is necessary</i>. These noblemen should +imitate Lord Lindsay’s example,—give a fair account of these +letters, under their own names; and then, we would add, it is needful +for complete satisfaction to have the letters entire, and not in fragments.</p> +<p>The ‘Quarterly’ gave these letters with the evident implication +that they are entirely destructive to Lady Byron’s character as +a witness. Now, has that magazine much reason to be hurt at even +an insinuation on its own character when making such deadly assaults +on that of another? The individuals who bring forth documents +that they suppose to be deadly to the character of a noble person, always +in her generation held to be eminent for virtue, certainly should not +murmur at being called upon to substantiate these documents in the manner +usually expected in historical investigations.</p> +<p>We have shown that these letters do not contradict, but that they +perfectly confirm the facts, and agree with the dates in Lady Byron’s +published statements of 1830; and this is our reason for deeming them +authentic.</p> +<p>These considerations with regard to the manner of conducting the +inquiry seem so obviously proper, that we cannot but believe that they +will command a serious attention.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER V. THE DIRECT ARGUMENT TO PROVE THE CRIME.</h3> +<p>We shall now proceed to state the argument against Lord Byron.</p> +<p>1st, There is direct evidence that Lord Byron was guilty of some +unusual immorality.</p> +<p>The evidence is not, as the ‘Blackwood’ says, that Lushington +yielded assent to the <i>ex parte</i> statement of a client; nor, as +the ‘Quarterly’ intimates, that he was affected by the charms +of an attractive young woman.</p> +<p>The first evidence of it is the fact that Lushington and Romilly +<i>offered to take the case into court, and make there a public exhibition +of the proofs</i> on which their convictions were founded.</p> +<p>2nd, It is very strong evidence of this fact, that Lord Byron, while +loudly declaring that he wished to know with what he was charged, <i>declined</i> +this open investigation, and, rather than meet it, signed a paper which +he had before refused to sign.</p> +<p>3rd, It is also strong evidence of this fact, that although secretly +declaring to all his intimate friends that he still wished open investigation +in a court of justice, and affirming his belief that his character was +being ruined for want of it, he never afterwards took the means to get +it. Instead of writing a private handbill, he might have come +to England and entered a suit; and he did not do it.</p> +<p>That Lord Byron was conscious of a great crime is further made probable +by the peculiar malice he seemed to bear to his wife’s legal counsel.</p> +<p>If there had been nothing to fear in that legal investigation wherewith +they threatened him, why did he not only flee from it, but regard with +a peculiar bitterness those who advised and proposed it? To an +innocent man falsely accused, the certainties of law are a blessing +and a refuge. Female charms cannot mislead in a court of justice; +and the atrocities of rumour are there sifted, and deprived of power. +A trial is not a threat to an innocent man: it is an invitation, an +opportunity. Why, then, did he hate Sir Samuel Romilly, so that +he exulted like a fiend over his tragical death? The letter in +which he pours forth this malignity was so brutal, that Moore was obliged, +by the general outcry of society, to suppress it. Is this the +language of an innocent man who has been offered a fair trial under +his country’s laws? or of a guilty man, to whom the very idea +of public trial means public exposure?</p> +<p>4th, It is probable that the crime was the one now alleged, because +that was the most important crime charged against him by rumour at the +period. This appears by the following extract of a letter from +Shelley, furnished by the ‘Quarterly,’ dated Bath, Sept. +29, 1816:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I saw Kinnaird, and had a long talk with him. +He informed me that Lady Byron was now in perfect health; that she was +living with your sister. I felt much pleasure from this intelligence. +I consider the latter part of it as affording a decisive contradiction +to the only important calumny that ever was advanced against you. +On this ground, at least, it will become the world hereafter to be silent.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It appears evident here that the charge of improper intimacy with +his sister was, in the mind of Shelley, the only important one that +had yet been made against Lord Byron.</p> +<p>It is fairly inferable, from Lord Byron’s own statements, that +his family friends believed this charge. Lady Byron speaks, in +her statement, of ‘nearest relatives’ and family friends +who were cognizant of Lord Byron’s strange conduct at the time +of the separation; and Lord Byron, in the letter to Bowles, before quoted, +says that every one of his relations, except his sister, fell from him +in this crisis like leaves from a tree in autumn. There was, therefore, +not only this report, but such appearances in support of it as convinced +those nearest to the scene, and best apprised of the facts; so that +they fell from him entirely, notwithstanding the strong influence of +family feeling. The Guiccioli book also mentions this same allegation +as having arisen from peculiarities in Lord Byron’s manner of +treating his sister:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘This deep, fraternal affection assumed at times, +under the influence of his powerful genius, and under exceptional circumstances, +an almost too passionate expression, which opened a fresh field to his +enemies.’ <a name="citation219"></a><a href="#footnote219">{219}</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>It appears, then, that there was nothing in the character of Lord +Byron and of his sister, as they appeared before their generation, that +prevented such a report from arising: on the contrary, there was something +in their relations that made it seem probable. And it appears +that his own family friends were so affected by it, that they, with +one accord, deserted him. The ‘Quarterly’ presents +the fact that Lady Byron went to visit Mrs. Leigh at this time, as triumphant +proof that <i>she</i> did not then believe it. Can the ‘Quarterly’ +show just what Lady Byron’s state of mind was, or what her motives +were, in making that visit?</p> +<p>The ‘Quarterly’ seems to assume, that no woman, without +gross hypocrisy, can stand by a sister proven to have been guilty. +We can appeal on this subject to all women. We fearlessly ask +any wife, ‘Supposing your husband and sister were involved together +in an infamous crime, and that you were the mother of a young daughter +whose life would be tainted by a knowledge of that crime, what would +be your wish? Would you wish to proclaim it forthwith? or would +you wish quietly to separate from your husband, and to cover the crime +from the eye of man?’</p> +<p>It has been proved that Lady Byron did not reveal this even to her +nearest relatives. It is proved that she sealed the mouths of +her counsel, and even of servants, so effectually, that they remain +sealed even to this day. This is evidence that she did not wish +the thing known. It is proved also, that, in spite of her secrecy +with her parents and friends, the rumour got out, and was spoken of +by Shelley as the <i>only</i> important one.</p> +<p>Now, let us see how this note, cited by the ‘Quarterly,’ +confirms one of Lady Byron’s own statements. She says to +Lady Anne Barnard,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I trust you understand my wishes, which never +were to injure Lord Byron in any way; for, though he would not suffer +me to remain his wife, he cannot prevent me from continuing his friend; +and it was from considering myself as such that I silenced the accusations +by which my own conduct might have been more fully justified.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>How did Lady Byron <i>silence accusations</i>? First, by keeping +silence to her nearest relatives; second, by shutting the mouths of +servants; third, by imposing silence on her friends,—as Lady Anne +Barnard; fourth, by silencing her legal counsel; fifth, and most entirely, +by treating Mrs. Leigh, before the world, with unaltered kindness. +In the midst of the rumours, Lady Byron went to visit her; and Shelley +says that the movement was effectual. Can the ‘Quarterly’ +prove that, at this time, Mrs. Leigh had not confessed all, and thrown +herself on Lady Byron’s mercy?</p> +<p>It is not necessary to suppose great horror and indignation on the +part of Lady Byron. She may have regarded her sister as the victim +of a most singularly powerful tempter. Lord Byron, as she knew, +had tried to corrupt her own morals and faith. He had obtained +a power over some women, even in the highest circles in England, which +had led them to forego the usual decorums of their sex, and had given +rise to great scandals. He was a being of wonderful personal attractions. +He had not only strong poetical, but also strong logical power. +He was daring in speculation, and vigorous in sophistical argument; +beautiful, dazzling, and possessed of magnetic power of fascination. +His sister had been kind and considerate to Lady Byron when Lord Byron +was brutal and cruel. She had been overcome by him, as a weaker +nature sometimes sinks under the force of a stronger one; and Lady Byron +may really have considered her to be more sinned against than sinning.</p> +<p>Lord Byron, if we look at it rightly, did not corrupt Mrs. Leigh +any more than he did the whole British public. They rebelled at +the immorality of his conduct and the obscenity of his writings; and +he resolved that they should accept both. And he made them do +it. At first, they execrated ‘Don Juan.’ Murray +was afraid to publish it. Women were determined not to read it. +In 1819, Dr. William Maginn of the Noctes wrote a song against it in +the following virtuous strain:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Be “Juan,” then, unseen, unknown;<br /> + It must, or we shall rue it.<br /> +We may have virtue of our own:<br /> + Ah! why should we undo it?<br /> +The treasured faith of days long past<br /> + We still would prize o’er any,<br /> +And grieve to hear the ribald jeer<br /> + Of scamps like Don Giovanni.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Lord Byron determined to conquer the virtuous scruples of the Noctes +Club; and so we find this same Dr. William Maginn, who in 1819 wrote +so valiantly, in 1822 declaring that he would rather have written a +page of ‘Don Juan’ than a ton of ‘Childe Harold.’ +All English morals were, in like manner, formally surrendered to Lord +Byron. Moore details his adulteries in Venice with unabashed particularity: +artists send for pictures of his principal mistresses; the literary +world call for biographical sketches of their points; Moore compares +his wife and his last mistress in a neatly-turned sentence; and yet +the professor of morals in Edinburgh University recommends the biography +as <i>pure</i>, and having no mud in it. The mistress is lionized +in London; and in 1869 is introduced to the world of letters by ‘Blackwood,’ +and bid, ‘without a blush, to say she loved’—</p> +<p>This much being done to all England, it is quite possible that a +woman like Lady Byron, standing silently aside and surveying the course +of things, may have thought that Mrs. Leigh was no more seduced than +all the rest of the world, and have said as we feel disposed to say +of that generation, and of a good many in this, ‘Let him that +is without sin among you cast the first stone.’</p> +<p>The peculiar bitterness of remorse expressed in his works by Lord +Byron is a further evidence that he had committed an unusual crime. +We are aware that evidence cannot be drawn in this manner from an author’s +works merely, if unsupported by any external probability. For +example, the subject most frequently and powerfully treated by Hawthorne +is the influence of a secret, unconfessed crime on the soul: nevertheless, +as Hawthorne is well known to have always lived a pure and regular life, +nobody has ever suspected him of any greater sin than a vigorous imagination. +But here is a man believed guilty of an uncommon immorality by the two +best lawyers in England, and threatened with an open exposure, which +he does not dare to meet. The crime is named in society; his own +relations fall away from him on account of it; it is only set at rest +by the heroic conduct of his wife. Now, this man is stated by +many of his friends to have had all the appearance of a man secretly +labouring under the consciousness of crime. Moore speaks of this +propensity in the following language:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I have known him more than once, as we sat together +after dinner, and he was a little under the influence of wine, to fall +seriously into this dark, self-accusing mood, and throw out hints of +his past life with an air of gloom and mystery designed evidently to +awaken curiosity and interest.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Moore says that it was his own custom to dispel these appearances +by ridicule, to which his friend was keenly alive. And he goes +on to say,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘It has sometimes occurred to me, that the occult +causes of his lady’s separation from him, round which herself +and her legal advisers have thrown such formidable mystery, may have +been nothing more than some imposture of this kind, some dimly-hinted +confession of undefined horror, which, though intended by the relater +to mystify and surprise, the hearer so little understood as to take +in sober seriousness.’ <a name="citation225"></a><a href="#footnote225">{225}</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>All we have to say is, that Lord Byron’s conduct in this respect +is exactly what might have been expected if he had a crime on his conscience.</p> +<p>The energy of remorse and despair expressed in ‘Manfred’ +were so appalling and so vividly <i>personal</i>, that the belief was +universal on the Continent that the experience was wrought out of some +actual crime. Goethe expressed this idea, and had heard a murder +imputed to Byron as the cause.</p> +<p>The allusion to the crime and consequences of incest is so plain +in ‘Manfred,’ that it is astonishing that any one can pretend, +as Galt does, that it had any other application.</p> +<p>The hero speaks of the love between himself and the imaginary being +whose spirit haunts him as having been the <i>deadliest</i> sin, and +one that has, perhaps, caused her eternal destruction.</p> +<blockquote><p>‘What is she now? A sufferer for my sins;<br /> +A thing I dare not think upon.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>He speaks of her blood as haunting him, and as being</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘My blood,—the pure, warm +stream<br /> +That ran in the veins of my fathers, and in ours<br /> +When we were in our youth, and had one heart,<br /> +And loved each other as we should not love.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This work was conceived in the commotion of mind immediately following +his separation. The scenery of it was sketched in a journal sent +to his sister at the time.</p> +<p>In letter 377, defending the originality of the conception, and showing +that it did not arise from reading ‘Faust,’ he says,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘It was the Steinbach and the Jungfrau, and something +else, more than Faustus, that made me write “Manfred.”’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In letter 288, speaking of the various accounts given by critics +of the origin of the story, he says,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The conjecturer is out, and knows nothing of the +matter. I had a better origin than he could devise or divine for +the soul of him.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In letter 299, he says:—</p> +<p>‘As to the germs of “Manfred,” they may be found +in the journal I sent to Mrs. Leigh, part of which you saw.’</p> +<p>It may be said, plausibly, that Lord Byron, if conscious of this +crime, would not have expressed it in his poetry. But his nature +was such that he could not help it. Whatever he wrote that had +any real power was generally wrought out of self; and, when in a tumult +of emotion, he could not help giving glimpses of the cause. It +appears that he did know that he had been accused of incest, and that +Shelley thought <i>that</i> accusation the only really important one; +and yet, sensitive as he was to blame and reprobation, he ran upon this +very subject most likely to re-awaken scandal.</p> +<p>But Lord Byron’s strategy was always of the bold kind. +It was the plan of the fugitive, who, instead of running away, stations +himself so near to danger, that nobody would ever think of looking for +him there. He published passionate verses to his sister on this +principle. He imitated the security of an innocent man in every +thing but the unconscious energy of the agony which seized him when +he gave vent to his nature in poetry. The boldness of his strategy +is evident through all his life. He began by charging his wife +with the very cruelty and deception which he was himself practising. +He had spread a net for her feet, and he accused her of spreading a +net for his. He had placed her in a position where she could not +speak, and then leisurely shot arrows at her; and he represented her +as having done the same by him. When he attacked her in ‘Don +Juan,’ and strove to take from her the very protection <a name="citation227"></a><a href="#footnote227">{227}</a>of +womanly sacredness by putting her name into the mouth of every ribald, +he did a bold thing, and he knew it. He meant to do a bold thing. +There was a general outcry against it; and he fought it down, and gained +his point. By sheer boldness and perseverance, he turned the public +<i>from</i> his wife, and <i>to</i> himself, in the face of their very +groans and protests. His ‘Manfred’ and his ‘Cain’ +were parts of the same game. But the involuntary cry of remorse +and despair pierced even through his own artifices, in a manner that +produced a conviction of reality.</p> +<p>His evident fear and hatred of his wife were other symptoms of crime. +There was no apparent occasion for him to hate her. He admitted +that she had been bright, amiable, good, agreeable; that her marriage +had been a very uncomfortable one; and he said to Madame de Staël, +that he did not doubt she thought him deranged. Why, then, did +he hate her for wanting to live peaceably by herself? Why did +he so fear her, that not one year of his life passed without his concocting +and circulating some public or private accusation against her? +She, by his own showing, published none against him. It is remarkable, +that, in all his zeal to represent himself injured, he nowhere quotes +a single remark from Lady Byron, nor a story coming either directly +or indirectly from her or her family. He is in a fever in Venice, +not from what she has spoken, but because she has sealed the lips of +her counsel, and because she and her family do not speak: so that he +professes himself utterly ignorant what form her allegations against +him may take. He had heard from Shelley that his wife silenced +the most important calumny by going to make Mrs. Leigh a visit; and +yet he is afraid of her,—so afraid, that he tells Moore he expects +she will attack him after death, and charges him to defend his grave.</p> +<p>Now, if Lord Byron knew that his wife had a deadly secret that she +could tell, all this conduct is explicable: it is in the ordinary course +of human nature. Men always distrust those who hold facts by which +they can be ruined. They fear them; they are antagonistic to them; +they cannot trust them. The feeling of Falkland to Caleb Williams, +as portrayed in Godwin’s masterly sketch, is perfectly natural, +and it is exactly illustrative of what Byron felt for his wife. +He hated her for having his secret; and, so far as a human being could +do it, he tried to destroy her character before the world, that she +might not have the power to testify against him. If we admit this +solution, Byron’s conduct is at least that of a man who is acting +as men ordinarily would act under such circumstances: if we do not, +he is acting like a fiend. Let us look at admitted facts. +He married his wife without love, in a gloomy, melancholy, morose state +of mind. The servants testify to strange, unaccountable treatment +of her immediately after marriage; such that her confidential maid advises +her return to her parents. In Lady Byron’s letter to Mrs. +Leigh, she reminds Lord Byron that he always expressed a desire and +determination to free himself from the marriage. Lord Byron himself +admits to Madame de Staël that his behaviour was such, that his +wife must have thought him insane. Now we are asked to believe, +that simply because, under these circumstances, Lady Byron wished to +live separate from her husband, he hated and feared her so that he could +never let her alone afterwards; that he charged her with malice, slander, +deceit, and deadly intentions against himself, merely out of spite, +because she preferred not to live with him. This last view of +the case certainly makes Lord Byron more unaccountably wicked than the +other.</p> +<p>The first supposition shows him to us as a man in an agony of self-preservation; +the second as a fiend, delighting in gratuitous deceit and cruelty.</p> +<p>Again: a presumption of this crime appears in Lord Byron’s +admission, in a letter to Moore, that he had an illegitimate child born +before he left England, and still living at the time.</p> +<p>In letter 307, to Mr. Moore, under date Venice, Feb. 2, 1818, Byron +says, speaking of Moore’s loss of a child,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I know how to feel with you, because I am quite +wrapped up in my own children. Besides my little legitimate, I +have made unto myself an illegitimate since [since Ada’s birth] +to say nothing of one before; and I look forward to one of these as +the pillar of my old age, supposing that I ever reach, as I hope I never +shall, that desolating period.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The illegitimate child that he had made to himself since Ada’s +birth was Allegra, born about nine or ten months after the separation. +The other illegitimate alluded to was born before, and, as the reader +sees, was spoken of as still living.</p> +<p>Moore appears to be puzzled to know who this child can be, and conjectures +that it may possibly be the child referred to in an early poem, written, +while a schoolboy of nineteen, at Harrow.</p> +<p>On turning back to the note referred to, we find two things: first, +that the child there mentioned was not claimed by Lord Byron as his +own, but that he asked his mother to care for it as belonging to a schoolmate +now dead; second, that the infant died shortly after, and, consequently, +could not be the child mentioned in this letter.</p> +<p>Now, besides this fact, that Lord Byron admitted a living illegitimate +child born before Ada, we place this other fact, that there was a child +in England which was believed to be his by those who had every opportunity +of knowing.</p> +<p>On this subject we shall cite a passage from a letter recently received +by us from England, and written by a person who appears well informed +on the subject of his letter:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The fact is, the incest was first committed, and +the child of it born before, shortly before, the Byron marriage. +The child (a daughter) must not be confounded with the natural daughter +of Lord Byron, born about a year after his separation.</p> +<p>‘The history, more or less, of that child of incest, is known +to many; for in Lady Byron’s attempts to watch over her, and rescue +her from ruin, she was compelled to employ various agents at different +times.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This letter contains a full recognition, by an intelligent person +in England, of a child corresponding well with Lord Byron’s declaration +of an illegitimate, born before he left England.</p> +<p>Up to this point, we have, then, the circumstantial evidence against +Lord Byron as follows:—</p> +<p>A good and amiable woman, who had married him from love, determined +to separate from him.</p> +<p>Two of the greatest lawyers of England confirmed her in this decision, +and threatened Lord Byron, that, unless he consented to this, they would +expose the evidence against him in a suit for divorce. He fled +from this exposure, and never afterwards sought public investigation.</p> +<p>He was angry with and malicious towards the counsel who supported +his wife; he was angry at and afraid of a wife who did nothing to injure +him, and he made it a special object to defame and degrade her. +He gave such evidence of remorse and fear in his writings as to lead +eminent literary men to believe he had committed a great crime. +The public rumour of his day specified what the crime was. His +relations, by his own showing, joined against him. The report +was silenced by his wife’s efforts only. Lord Byron subsequently +declares the existence of an illegitimate child, born before he left +England. Corresponding to this, there is the history, known in +England, of a child believed to be his, in whom his wife took an interest.</p> +<p>All these presumptions exist independently of any direct testimony +from Lady Byron. They are to be admitted as true, whether she +says a word one way or the other.</p> +<p>From this background of proof, I come forward, and testify to an +interview with Lady Byron, in which she gave me specific information +of the facts in the case. That I report the facts just as I received +them from her, not altered or misremembered, is shown by the testimony +of my sister, to whom I related them at the time. It cannot, then, +be denied that I had this interview, and that this communication was +made. I therefore testify that Lady Byron, for a proper purpose, +and at a proper time, stated to me the following things:—</p> +<p>1. That the crime which separated her from Lord Byron was incest.</p> +<p>2. That she first discovered it by improper actions towards +his sister, which, he <i>meant</i> to make her understand, indicated +the guilty relation.</p> +<p>3. That he admitted it, reasoned on it, defended it, tried +to make her an accomplice, and, failing in that, hated her and expelled +her.</p> +<p>4. That he threatened her that he would make it his life’s +object to destroy her character.</p> +<p>5. That for a period she was led to regard this conduct as +insanity, and to consider him only as a diseased person.</p> +<p>6. That she had subsequent proof that the facts were really +as she suspected; that there had been a child born of the crime, whose +history she knew; that Mrs. Leigh had repented.</p> +<p>The purpose for which this was stated to me was to ask, Was it her +duty to make the truth fully known during her lifetime?</p> +<p>Here, then, is a man believed guilty of an unusual crime by two lawyers, +the best in England, who have seen the evidence,—a man who dares +not meet legal investigation. The crime is named in society, and +deemed so far probable to the men of his generation as to be spoken +of by Shelley as the only important allegation against him. He +acts through life exactly like a man struggling with remorse, and afraid +of detection; he has all the restlessness and hatred and fear that a +man has who feels that there is evidence which might destroy him. +He admits an illegitimate child besides Allegra. A child believed +to have been his is known to many in England. Added to all this, +his widow, now advanced in years, and standing on the borders of eternity, +being, as appears by her writings and conversation, of perfectly sound +mind at the time, testifies to me the facts before named, which exactly +correspond to probabilities.</p> +<p>I publish the statement; and the solicitors who hold Lady Byron’s +private papers do not deny the truth of the story. They try to +cast discredit on me for speaking; but they do not say that I have spoken +falsely, or that the story is not true. The lawyer who knew Lady +Byron’s story in 1816 does not now deny that this is the true +one. Several persons in England testify that, at various times, +and for various purposes, the same story has been told to them. +Moreover, it appears from my last letter addressed to Lady Byron on +this subject, that I recommended her to leave <i>all necessary papers</i> +in the hands of some discreet persons, who, after <i>both</i> had passed +away, should see that justice was done. The solicitors admit that +Lady Byron <i>has</i> left sealed papers of great importance in the +hands of trustees, with discretionary power. I have been informed +very directly that the nature of these documents was such as to lead +to the suppression of Lady Byron’s life and writings. This +is all exactly as it would be, if the story related by Lady Byron were +the true one.</p> +<p>The evidence under this point of view is so strong, that a great +effort has been made to throw out Lady Byron’s testimony.</p> +<p>This attempt has been made on two grounds. 1st, That she was +under a mental hallucination. This theory has been most ably refuted +by the very first authority in England upon the subject. He says,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘No person practically acquainted with the true +characteristics of insanity would affirm, that, had this idea of “incest” +been an insane hallucination, Lady Byron could, from the lengthened +period which intervened between her unhappy marriage and death, have +refrained from exhibiting it, not only to legal advisers and trustees +(assuming that she revealed to them the fact), but to others, exacting +no pledge of secrecy from them as to her mental impressions. Lunatics +do for a time, and for some special purpose, most cunningly conceal +their delusions; but they have not the capacity to struggle for thirty-six +years, as Lady Byron must have done, with so frightful an hallucination, +without the insane state of mind becoming obvious to those with whom +they are daily associating. Neither is it consistent with experience +to suppose, that, if Lady Byron had been a monomaniac, her state of +disordered understanding would have been restricted to one hallucination. +Her diseased brain, affecting the normal action of thought, would, in +all probability, have manifested other symptoms besides those referred +to of aberration of intellect.</p> +<p>‘During the last thirty years, I have not met with a case of +insanity (assuming the hypothesis of hallucination) at all parallel +with that of Lady Byron. In my experience, it is unique. +I never saw a patient with such a delusion.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We refer our readers to a careful study of Dr. Forbes Winslow’s +consideration of this subject given in Part III. Anyone who has +been familiar with the delicacy and acuteness of Dr. Winslow, as shown +in his work on obscure diseases of the brain and nerves, must feel that +his positive assertion on this ground is the best possible evidence. +We here gratefully acknowledge our obligations to Dr. Winslow for the +corrected proof of his valuable letter, which he has done us the honour +to send for this work. We shall consider that his argument, in +connection with what the reader may observe of Lady Byron’s own +writings, closes that issue of the case completely.</p> +<p>The other alternative is, that Lady Byron deliberately committed +false witness. This was the ground assumed by the ‘Blackwood,’ +when in July, 1869, it took upon itself the responsibility of re-opening +the Byron controversy. It is also the ground assumed by ‘The +London Quarterly’ of to-day.</p> +<p>Both say, in so many words, that no crime was imputed to Lord Byron; +that the representations made to Lushington in the beginning were false +ones; and that the story told to Lady Byron’s confidential friends +in later days was also false.</p> +<p>Let us examine this theory. In the first place, it requires +us to believe in the existence of a moral monster of whom Madame Brinvilliers +is cited as the type. The ‘Blackwood,’ let it be remembered, +opens the controversy with the statement that Lady Byron was a Madame +Brinvilliers. The ‘Quarterly’ does not shrink from +the same assumption.</p> +<p>Let us consider the probability of this question.</p> +<p>If Lady Byron were such a woman, and wished to ruin her husband’s +reputation in order to save her own, and, being perfectly unscrupulous, +had circulated against him a story of unnatural crime which had no proofs, +how came two of the first lawyers of England to assume the responsibility +of offering to present her case in open court? How came her husband, +if he knew himself guiltless, to shrink from that public investigation +which must have demonstrated his innocence? Most astonishing of +all, when he fled from trial, and the report got abroad against him +in England, and was believed even by his own relations, why did not +his wife avail herself of the moment to complete her victory? +If at that moment she had publicly broken with Mrs. Leigh, she might +have confirmed every rumour. Did she do it? and why not? +According to the ‘Blackwood,’ we have here a woman who has +made up a frightful story to ruin her husband’s reputation, yet +who takes every pains afterwards to prevent its being ruined. +She fails to do the very thing she undertakes; and for years after, +rather than injure him, she loses public sympathy, and, by sealing the +lips of her legal counsel, deprives herself of the advantage of their +testimony.</p> +<p>Moreover, if a desire for revenge could have been excited in her, +it would have been provoked by the first publication of the fourth canto +of ‘Childe Harold,’ when she felt that Byron was attacking +her before the world. Yet we have Lady Anne Barnard’s testimony, +that, at this time, she was so far from wishing to injure him, that +all her communications were guarded by cautious secrecy. At this +time, also, she had a strong party in England, to whom she could have +appealed. Again: when ‘Don Juan’ was first printed, +it excited a violent re-action against Lord Byron. Had his wife +chosen <i>then</i> to accuse him, and display the evidence she had shown +to her counsel, there is little doubt that all the world would have +stood with her; but she did not. After his death, when she spoke +at last, there seems little doubt from the strength of Dr. Lushington’s +language, that Lady Byron had a very strong case, and that, had she +been willing, her counsel could have told much more than he did. +She might <i>then</i> have told her whole story, and been believed. +Her word was believed by Christopher North, and accepted as proof that +Byron had been a great criminal. Had revenge been her motive, +she could have spoken the ONE WORD more that North called for.</p> +<p>The ‘Quarterly’ asks why she waited till everybody concerned +was dead. There is an obvious answer. Because, while there +was anybody living to whom the testimony would have been utterly destructive, +there were the best reasons for withholding it. When all were +gone from earth, and she herself was in constant expectation of passing +away, there <i>was</i> a reason, and a proper one, why she should speak. +By nature and principle truthful, she had had the opportunity of silently +watching the operation of a permitted lie upon a whole generation. +She had been placed in a position in which it was necessary, by silence, +to allow the spread and propagation through society of a radical falsehood. +Lord Byron’s life, fame, and genius had all struck their roots +into this lie, been nourished by it, and had derived thence a poisonous +power.</p> +<p>In reading this history, it will be remarked that he pleaded his +personal misfortunes in his marriage as excuses for every offence against +morality, and that the literary world of England accepted the plea, +and tolerated and justified the crimes. Never before, in England, +had adultery been spoken of in so respectful a manner, and an adulteress +openly praised and <i>fêted</i>, and obscene language and licentious +images publicly tolerated; and all on the plea of a man’s private +misfortunes.</p> +<p>There was, therefore, great force in the suggestion made to Lady +Byron, that she owed a testimony in this case to truth and justice, +irrespective of any personal considerations. There is no more +real reason for allowing the spread of a hurtful falsehood that affects +ourselves than for allowing one that affects our neighbour. This +falsehood had corrupted the literature and morals of both England and +America, and led to the public toleration, by respectable authorities, +of forms of vice at first indignantly rejected. The question was, +Was this falsehood to go on corrupting literature as long as history +lasted? Had the world no right to true history? Had she +who possessed the truth no responsibility to the world? Was not +a final silence a confirmation of a lie with all its consequences?</p> +<p>This testimony of Lady Byron, so far from being thrown out altogether, +as the ‘Quarterly’ proposes, has a peculiar and specific +value from the great forbearance and reticence which characterised the +greater part of her life.</p> +<p>The testimony of a person who has shown in every action perfect friendliness +to another comes with the more weight on that account. Testimony +extorted by conscience from a parent against a child, or a wife against +a husband, where all the other actions of the life prove the existence +of kind feeling, is held to be the strongest form of evidence.</p> +<p>The fact that Lady Byron, under the severest temptations and the +bitterest insults and injuries, withheld every word by which Lord Byron +could be criminated, so long as he and his sister were living, is strong +evidence, that, when she did speak, it was not under the influence of +ill-will, but of pure conscientious convictions; and the fullest weight +ought, therefore, to be given to her testimony.</p> +<p>We are asked now why she ever spoke at all. The fact that her +story is known to several persons in England is brought up as if it +were a crime. To this we answer, Lady Byron had an undoubted moral +right to have exposed the whole story in a public court in 1816, and +thus cut herself loose from her husband by a divorce. For the +sake of saving her husband and sister from destruction, she waived this +right to self-justification, and stood for years a silent sufferer under +calumny and misrepresentation. She desired nothing but to retire +from the whole subject; to be permitted to enjoy with her child the +peace and seclusion that belong to her sex. Her husband made her, +through his life and after his death, a subject of such constant discussion, +that she must either abandon the current literature of her day, or run +the risk of reading more or less about herself in almost every magazine +of her time. Conversations with Lord Byron, notes of interviews +with Lord Byron, journals of time spent with Lord Byron, were constantly +spread before the public. Leigh Hunt, Galt, Medwin, Trelawney, +Lady Blessington, Dr. Kennedy, and Thomas Moore, all poured forth their +memorials; and in all she figured prominently. All these had their +tribes of reviewers and critics, who also discussed her. The profound +mystery of her silence seemed constantly to provoke inquiry. People +could not forgive her for not speaking. Her privacy, retirement, +and silence were set down as coldness, haughtiness, and contempt of +human sympathy. She was constantly challenged to say something: +as, for example, in the ‘Noctes’ of November 1825, six months +after Byron’s death, Christopher North says, speaking of the burning +of the Autobiography,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I think, since the Memoir was burned by these +people, these people are bound to put us in possession of the best evidence +they still have the power of producing, in order that we may come to +a just conclusion as to a subject upon which, by their act, at least, +as much as by any other people’s act, we are compelled to consider +it our duty to make up our deliberate opinion,—deliberate and +decisive. Woe be to those who provoke this curiosity, and will +not allay it! Woe be to them! say I. Woe to them! says the +world.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>When Lady Byron published her statement, which certainly seemed called +for by this language, Christopher North blamed her for doing it, and +then again said that she ought to go on and tell the whole story. +If she was thus adjured to speak, blamed for speaking, and adjured to +speak further, all in one breath, by public prints, there is reason +to think that there could not have come less solicitation from private +sources,—from friends who had access to her at all hours, whom +she loved, by whom she was beloved, and to whom her refusal to explain +might seem a breach of friendship. Yet there is no evidence on +record, that we have seen, that she ever had other confidant than her +legal counsel, till after all the actors in the events were in their +graves, and the daughter, for whose sake largely the secret was guarded, +had followed them.</p> +<p>Now, does anyone claim, that, because a woman has sacrificed for +twenty years all cravings for human sympathy, and all possibility of +perfectly free and unconstrained intercourse with her friends, that +she is obliged to go on bearing this same lonely burden to the end of +her days?</p> +<p>Let anyone imagine the frightful constraint and solitude implied +in this sentence. Let anyone, too, think of its painful complications +in life. The roots of a falsehood are far-reaching. Conduct +that can only be explained by criminating another must often seem unreasonable +and unaccountable; and the most truthful person, who feels bound to +keep silence regarding a radical lie of another, must often be placed +in positions most trying to conscientiousness. The great merit +of ‘Caleb Williams’ as a novel consists in its philosophical +analysis of the utter helplessness of an innocent person who agrees +to keep the secret of a guilty one. One sees there how that necessity +of silence produces all the effect of falsehood on his part, and deprives +him of the confidence and sympathy of those with whom he would take +refuge.</p> +<p>For years, this unnatural life was forced on Lady Byron, involving +her as in a network, even in her dearest family relations.</p> +<p>That, when all the parties were dead, Lady Byron should allow herself +the sympathy of a circle of intimate friends, is something so perfectly +proper and natural, that we cannot but wonder that her conduct in this +respect has ever been called in question. If it was her right +to have had a public <i>exposé</i> in 1816, it was certainly +her right to show to her own intimate circle the secret of her life +when all the principal actors were passed from earth.</p> +<p>The ‘Quarterly’ speaks as if, by thus waiting, she deprived +Lord Byron of the testimony of living witnesses. But there were +as many witnesses and partisans dead on her side as on his. Lady +Milbanke and Sir Ralph, Sir Samuel Romilly and Lady Anne Barnard were +as much dead as Hobhouse, Moore, and others of Byron’s partisans.</p> +<p>The ‘Quarterly’ speaks of Lady Byron as ‘running +round, and repeating her story to people mostly below her own rank in +life.’</p> +<p>To those who know the personal dignity of Lady Byron’s manners, +represented and dwelt on by her husband in his conversations with Lady +Blessington, this coarse and vulgar attack only proves the poverty of +a cause which can defend itself by no better weapons.</p> +<p>Lord Byron speaks of his wife as ‘highly cultivated;’ +as having ‘a degree of self-control I never saw equalled.’</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I am certain,’ he says, ‘that Lady +Byron’s first idea is what is due to herself: I mean that it is +the undeviating rule of her conduct . . . . Now, my besetting +sin is a want of that self-respect which she has in excess . . . . +But, though I accuse Lady Byron of an excess of self-respect, I must, +in candour, admit, that, if any person ever had excuse for an extraordinary +portion of it, she has; as, in all her thoughts, words, and actions, +she is the most decorous woman that ever existed.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This is the kind of woman who has lately been accused in the public +prints as a babbler of secrets and a gossip in regard to her private +difficulties with children, grandchildren, and servants. It is +a fair specimen of the justice that has generally been meted out to +Lady Byron.</p> +<p>In 1836, she was accused of having made a confidant of Campbell, +on the strength of having written him a note <i>declining</i> to give +him any information, or answer any questions. In July, 1869, she +was denounced by ‘Blackwood’ as a Madame Brinvilliers for +keeping such perfect silence on the matter of her husband’s character; +and in the last ‘Quarterly’ she is spoken of as a gossip +‘running round, and repeating her story to people below her in +rank.’</p> +<p>While we are upon this subject, we have a suggestion to make. +John Stuart Mill says that utter self-abnegation has been preached to +women as a peculiarly feminine virtue. It is true; but there is +a moral limit to the value of self-abnegation.</p> +<p>It is a fair question for the moralist, whether it is right and proper +wholly to ignore one’s personal claims to justice. The teachings +of the Saviour give us warrant for submitting to personal injuries; +but both the Saviour and St. Paul manifested bravery in denying false +accusations, and asserting innocence.</p> +<p>Lady Byron was falsely accused of having ruined <i>the</i> man of +his generation, and caused all his vices and crimes, and all their evil +effects on society. She submitted to the accusation for a certain +number of years for reasons which commended themselves to her conscience; +but when all the personal considerations were removed, and she was about +passing from life, it was right, it was just, it was strictly in accordance +with the philosophical and ethical character of her mind, and with her +habit of considering all things in their widest relations to the good +of mankind, that she should give serious attention and consideration +to the last duty which she might owe to abstract truth and justice in +her generation.</p> +<p>In her letter on the religious state of England, we find her advocating +an absolute frankness in all religious parties. She would have +all openly confess those doubts, which, from the best of motives, are +usually suppressed; and believed, that, as a result of such perfect +truthfulness, a wider love would prevail among Christians. This +shows the strength of her conviction of the power and the importance +of absolute truth; and shows, therefore, that her doubts and conscientious +inquiries respecting her duty on this subject are exactly what might +have been expected from a person of her character and principles.</p> +<p>Having thus shown that Lady Byron’s testimony is the testimony +of a woman of strong and sound mind, that it was not given from malice +nor ill-will, that it was given at a proper time and in a proper manner, +and for a purpose in accordance with the most elevated moral views, +and that it is coincident with all the established facts of this history, +and furnishes a perfect solution of every mystery of the case, we think +we shall carry the reader with us in saying that it is to be received +as absolute truth.</p> +<p>This conviction we arrive at while as yet we are deprived of the +statement prepared by Lady Byron, and the proof by which she expected +to sustain it; both which, as we understand, are now in the hands of +her trustees.</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI. PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT.</h3> +<p>The credibility of the accusation of the unnatural crime charged +to Lord Byron is greater than if charged to most men. He was born +of parents both of whom were remarkable for perfectly ungoverned passions. +There appears to be historical evidence that he was speaking literal +truth when he says to Medwin of his father,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘He would have made a bad hero for Hannah More. +He ran out three fortunes, and married or ran away with three women +. . . He seemed born for his own ruin and that of the other sex. +He began by seducing Lady Carmarthen, and spent her four thousand pounds; +and, not content with one adventure of this kind, afterwards eloped +with Miss Gordon.’—Medwin’s Conversations, p.31.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Lady Carmarthen here spoken of was the mother of Mrs. Leigh. +Miss Gordon became Lord Byron’s mother.</p> +<p>By his own account, and that of Moore, she was a passionate, ungoverned, +though affectionate woman. Lord Byron says to Medwin,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I lost my father when I was only six years of +age. My mother, when she was in a passion with me (and I gave +her cause enough), used to say, “O you little dog! you are a Byron +all over; you are as bad as your father!”’—Ibid., +p.37.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>By all the accounts of his childhood and early youth, it is made +apparent that ancestral causes had sent him into the world with a most +perilous and exceptional sensitiveness of brain and nervous system, +which it would have required the most judicious course of education +to direct safely and happily.</p> +<p>Lord Byron often speaks as if he deemed himself subject to tendencies +which might terminate in insanity. The idea is so often mentioned +and dwelt upon in his letters, journals, and conversations, that we +cannot but ascribe it to some very peculiar experience, and not to mere +affectation.</p> +<p>But, in the history of his early childhood and youth, we see no evidence +of any original malformation of nature. We see only evidence of +one of those organisations, full of hope and full of peril, which adverse +influences might easily drive to insanity, but wise physiological training +and judicious moral culture might have guided to the most splendid results. +But of these he had neither. He was alternately the pet and victim +of his mother’s tumultuous nature, and equally injured both by +her love and her anger. A Scotch maid of religious character gave +him early serious impressions of religion, and thus added the element +of an awakened conscience to the conflicting ones of his character.</p> +<p>Education, in the proper sense of the word, did not exist in England +in those days. Physiological considerations of the influence of +the body on the soul, of the power of brain and nerve over moral development, +had then not even entered the general thought of society. The +school and college education literally taught him nothing but the ancient +classics, of whose power in exciting and developing the animal passions +Byron often speaks.</p> +<p>The morality of the times is strikingly exemplified even in its literary +criticism.</p> +<p>For example: One of Byron’s poems, written while a schoolboy +at Harrow, is addressed to ‘My Son.’ Mr. Moore, and +the annotator of the standard edition of Byron’s poems, gravely +give the public their speculations on the point, whether Lord Byron +first became a father while a schoolboy at Harrow; and go into particulars +in relation to a certain infant, the claim to which lay between Lord +Byron and another schoolfellow. It is not the nature of the event +itself, so much as the cool, unembarrassed manner in which it is discussed, +that gives the impression of the state of public morals. There +is no intimation of anything unusual, or discreditable to the school, +in the event, and no apparent suspicion that it will be regarded as +a serious imputation on Lord Byron’s character.</p> +<p>Modern physiological developments would lead any person versed in +the study of the reciprocal influence of physical and moral laws to +anticipate the most serious danger to such an organisation as Lord Byron’s, +from a precocious development of the passions. Alcoholic and narcotic +stimulants, in the case of such a person, would be regarded as little +less than suicidal, and an early course of combined drinking and licentiousness +as tending directly to establish those unsound conditions which lead +towards moral insanity. Yet not only Lord Byron’s testimony, +but every probability from the licence of society, goes to show that +this was exactly what did take place.</p> +<p>Neither restrained by education, nor warned by any correct physiological +knowledge, nor held in check by any public sentiment, he drifted directly +upon the fatal rock.</p> +<p>Here we give Mr. Moore full credit for all his abatements in regard +to Lord Byron’s excesses in his early days. Moore makes +the point very strongly that he was not, <i>de facto</i>, even so bad +as many of his associates; and we agree with him. Byron’s +physical organisation was originally as fine and sensitive as that of +the most delicate woman. He possessed the faculty of moral ideality +in a high degree; and he had not, in the earlier part of his life, an +attraction towards mere brutal vice. His physical sensitiveness +was so remarkable that he says of himself, ‘A dose of salts has +the effect of a temporary inebriation, like light champagne, upon me.’ +Yet this exceptionally delicately-organised boy and youth was in a circle +where not to conform to the coarse drinking-customs of his day was to +incur censure and ridicule. That he early acquired the power of +bearing large quantities of liquor is manifested by the record in his +Journal, that, on the day when he read the severe ‘Edinburgh’ +article upon his schoolboy poems, he drank three bottles of claret at +a sitting.</p> +<p>Yet Byron was so far superior to his times, that some vague impulses +to physiological prudence seem to have suggested themselves to him, +and been acted upon with great vigour. He never could have lived +so long as he did, under the exhaustive process of every kind of excess, +if he had not re-enforced his physical nature by an assiduous care of +his muscular system. He took boxing-lessons, and distinguished +himself in all athletic exercises.</p> +<p>He also had periods in which he seemed to try vaguely to retrieve +himself from dissipation, and to acquire self-mastery by what he called +temperance.</p> +<p>But, ignorant and excessive in all his movements, his very efforts +at temperance were intemperate. From violent excesses in eating +and drinking, he would pass to no less unnatural periods of utter abstinence. +Thus the very conservative power which Nature has of adapting herself +to any <i>settled</i> course was lost. The extreme sensitiveness +produced by long periods of utter abstinence made the succeeding debauch +more maddening and fatal. He was like a fine musical instrument, +whose strings were every day alternating between extreme tension and +perfect laxity. We have in his Journal many passages, of which +the following is a specimen:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘I have dined regularly to-day, for the first time +since Sunday last; this being Sabbath too,—all the rest, tea and +dry biscuits, six per diem. I wish to God I had not dined, now! +It kills me with heaviness, stupor, and horrible dreams; and yet it +was but a pint of bucellas, and fish. Meat I never touch, nor +much vegetable diet. I wish I were in the country, to take exercise, +instead of being obliged to cool by abstinence, in lieu of it. +I should not so much mind a little accession of flesh: my bones can +well bear it. But the worst is, the Devil always came with it, +till I starved him out; and I will not be the slave of any appetite. +If I do err, it shall be my heart, at least, that heralds the way. +O my head! how it aches! The horrors of digestion! I wonder +how Bonaparte’s dinner agrees with him.’—Moore’s +Life, vol. ii. p.264.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>From all the contemporary history and literature of the times, therefore, +we have reason to believe that Lord Byron spoke the exact truth when +he said to Medwin,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘My own master at an age when I most required a +guide, left to the dominion of my passions when they were the strongest, +with a fortune anticipated before I came into possession of it, and +a constitution impaired by early excesses, I commenced my travels, in +1809, with a joyless indifference to the world and all that was before +me.’—Medwin’s Conversations, p.42.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Utter prostration of the whole physical man from intemperate excess, +the deadness to temptation which comes from utter exhaustion, was his +condition, according to himself and Moore, when he first left England, +at twenty-one years of age.</p> +<p>In considering his subsequent history, we are to take into account +that it was upon the brain and nerve-power, thus exhausted by early +excess, that the draughts of sudden and rapid literary composition began +to be made. There was something unnatural and unhealthy in the +rapidity, clearness, and vigour with which his various works followed +each other. Subsequently to the first two cantos of ‘Childe +Harold,’ ‘The Bride of Abydos,’ ‘The Corsair,’ +‘The Giaour,’ ‘Lara,’ ‘Parisina,’ +and ‘The Siege of Corinth,’ all followed close upon each +other, in a space of less than three years, and those the three most +critical years of his life. ‘The Bride of Abydos’ +came out in the autumn of 1813, and was written in a week; and ‘The +Corsair’ was composed in thirteen days. A few months more +than a year before his marriage, and the brief space of his married +life, was the period in which all this literary labour was performed, +while yet he was running the wild career of intrigue and fashionable +folly. He speaks of ‘Lara’ as being tossed off in +the intervals between masquerades and balls, etc. It is with the +physical results of such unnatural efforts that we have now chiefly +to do. Every physiologist would say that the demands of such poems +on a healthy brain, in that given space, must have been exhausting; +but when we consider that they were cheques drawn on a bank broken by +early extravagance, and that the subject was prodigally spending vital +forces in every other direction at the same time, one can scarcely estimate +the physiological madness of such a course as Lord Byron’s.</p> +<p>It is evident from his Journal, and Moore’s account, that any +amount of physical force which was for the time restored by his first +foreign travel was recklessly spent in this period, when he threw himself +with a mad recklessness into London society in the time just preceding +his marriage. The revelations made in Moore’s Memoir of +this period are sad enough: those to Medwin are so appalling as to the +state of contemporary society in England, as to require, at least, the +benefit of the doubt for which Lord Byron’s habitual carelessness +of truth gave scope. His adventures with ladies of the highest +rank in England are there paraded with a freedom of detail that respect +for womanhood must lead every woman to question. The only thing +that is unquestionable is, that Lord Byron made these assertions to +Medwin, not as remorseful confessions, but as relations of his <i>bonnes +fortunes</i>, and that Medwin published them in the very face of the +society to which they related.</p> +<p>When Lord Byron says, ‘I have seen a great deal of Italian +society, and swum in a gondola; but nothing could equal the profligacy +of high life in England . . . when I knew it,’ he makes +certainly strong assertions, if we remember what Mr. Moore reveals of +the harem kept in Venice.</p> +<p>But when Lord Byron intimates that three married women in his own +rank in life, who had once held illicit relations with him, made wedding-visits +to his wife at one time, we must hope that he drew on his active imagination, +as he often did, in his statements in regard to women.</p> +<p>When he relates at large his amour with Lord Melbourne’s wife, +and represents her as pursuing him with an insane passion, to which +he with difficulty responded; and when he says that she tracked a rival +lady to his lodgings, and came into them herself, disguised as a carman—one +<i>hopes</i> that he exaggerates. And what are we to make of passages +like this?—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘There was a lady at that time, double my own age, +the mother of several children who were perfect angels, with whom I +formed a liaison that continued without interruption for eight months. +She told me she was never in love till she was thirty, and I thought +myself so with her when she was forty. I never felt a stronger +passion, which she returned with equal ardour . . . . . . .</p> +<p>‘Strange as it may seem, she gained, as all women do, an influence +over me so strong that I had great difficulty in breaking with her.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Unfortunately, these statements, though probably exaggerated, are, +for substance, borne out in the history of the times. With every +possible abatement for exaggeration in these statements, there remains +still undoubted evidence from other sources that Lord Byron exercised +a most peculiar and fatal power over the moral sense of the women with +whom he was brought in relation; and that love for him, in many women, +became a sort of insanity, depriving them of the just use of their faculties. +All this makes his fatal history both possible and probable.</p> +<p>Even the article in ‘Blackwood,’ written in 1825 for +the express purpose of vindicating his character, admits that his name +had been coupled with those of three, four, or more women of rank, whom +it speaks of as ‘licentious, unprincipled, characterless women.’</p> +<p>That such a course, in connection with alternate extremes of excess +and abstinence in eating and drinking, and the immense draughts on the +brain-power of rapid and brilliant composition, should have ended in +that abnormal state in which cravings for unnatural vice give indications +of approaching brain-disease, seems only too probable.</p> +<p>This symptom of exhausted vitality becomes often a frequent type +in periods of very corrupt society. The dregs of the old Greek +and Roman civilisation were foul with it; and the apostle speaks of +the turning of the use of the natural into that which is against nature, +as the last step in abandonment.</p> +<p>The very literature of such periods marks their want of physical +and moral soundness. Having lost all sense of what is simple and +natural and pure, the mind delights to dwell on horrible ideas, which +give a shuddering sense of guilt and crime. All the writings of +this fatal period of Lord Byron’s life are more or less intense +histories of unrepentant guilt and remorse or of unnatural crime. +A recent writer in ‘Temple Bar’ brings to light the fact, +that ‘The Bride of Abydos,’ the first of the brilliant and +rapid series of poems which began in the period immediately preceding +his marriage, was, in its first composition, an intense story of love +between a brother and sister in a Turkish harem; that Lord Byron declared, +in a letter to Galt, that it was drawn from <i>real life</i>; that, +in compliance with the prejudices of the age, he altered the relationship +to that of cousins before publication.</p> +<p>This same writer goes on to show, by a series of extracts from Lord +Byron’s published letters and journals, that his mind about this +time was in a fearfully unnatural state, and suffering singular and +inexplicable agonies of remorse; that, though he was accustomed fearlessly +to confide to his friends immoralities which would be looked upon as +damning, there was now a secret to which he could not help alluding +in his letters, but which he told Moore he could not tell now, but ‘some +day or other when we are <i>veterans</i>.’ He speaks of +his heart as eating itself out; of a mysterious <i>person</i>, whom +he says, ‘God knows I love too well, and the Devil probably too.’ +He wrote a song, and sent it to Moore, addressed to a partner in some +awful guilt, whose very name he dares not mention, because</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘There is grief in the sound, +there is guilt in the fame.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>He speaks of struggles of remorse, of efforts at repentance, and +returns to guilt, with a sort of horror very different from the well-pleased +air with which he relates to Medwin his common intrigues and adulteries. +He speaks of himself generally as oppressed by a frightful, unnatural +gloom and horror, and, when occasionally happy, ‘not in a way +that <i>can</i> or <i>ought</i> to last.’</p> +<p>‘The Giaour,’ ‘The Corsair,’ ‘Lara,’ +‘Parisina,’ ‘The Siege of Corinth,’ and ‘Manfred,’ +all written or conceived about this period of his life, give one picture +of a desperate, despairing, unrepentant soul, whom suffering maddens, +but cannot reclaim.</p> +<p>In all these he paints only the one woman, of concentrated, unconsidering +passion, ready to sacrifice heaven and defy hell for a guilty man, beloved +in spite of religion or reason. In this unnatural literature, +the stimulus of crime is represented as intensifying love. Medora, +Gulnare, the Page in ‘Lara,’ Parisina, and the lost sister +of Manfred, love the more intensely because the object of the love is +a criminal, out-lawed by God and man. The next step beyond this +is—<i>madness</i>.</p> +<p>The work of Dr. Forbes Winslow on ‘Obscure Diseases of the +Brain and Nerves’ <a name="citation258"></a><a href="#footnote258">{258}</a> +contains a passage so very descriptive of the case of Lord Byron, that +it might seem to have been written for it. The sixth chapter of +his work, on ‘Anomalous and Masked Affections of the Mind,’ +contains, in our view, the only clue that can unravel the sad tragedy +of Byron’s life. He says, p.87,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘These forms of unrecognised mental disorder are +not always accompanied by any well-marked disturbance of the bodily +health requiring medical attention, or any obvious departure from a +normal state of thought and conduct such as to justify legal interference; +neither do these affections always incapacitate the party from engaging +in the ordinary business of life . . . . The change may have progressed +insidiously and stealthily, having slowly and almost imperceptibly induced +important molecular modifications in the delicate vesicular neurine +of the brain, ultimately resulting in some aberration of the ideas, +alteration of the affections, or perversion of the propensities or instincts. +. . .</p> +<p>‘Mental disorder of a dangerous character has been known for +years to be stealthily advancing, without exciting the slightest notion +of its presence, until some sad and terrible catastrophe, homicide, +or suicide, has painfully awakened attention to its existence. +Persons suffering from latent insanity often affect singularity of dress, +gait, conversation, and phraseology. The most trifling circumstances +stimulate their excitability. They are martyrs to ungovernable +paroxysms of passion, are inflamed to a state of demoniacal fury by +the most insignificant of causes, and occasionally lose all sense of +delicacy of feeling, sentiment, refinement of manners and conversation. +Such manifestations of undetected mental disorder may be seen associated +with intellectual and moral qualities of the highest order.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In another place, Dr. Winslow again adverts to this latter symptom, +which was strikingly marked in the case of Lord Byron:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘All delicacy and decency of thought are occasionally +banished from the mind, so effectually does the principle of thought +in these attacks succumb to the animal instincts and passions . . . +.</p> +<p>‘Such cases will commonly be found associated with organic +predisposition to insanity or cerebral disease . . . . Modifications +of the malady are seen allied with genius. The biographies of +Cowper, Burns, Byron, Johnson, Pope, and Haydon establish that the most +exalted intellectual conditions do not escape unscathed.</p> +<p>‘In early childhood, this form of mental disturbance may, in +many cases, be detected. To its existence is often to be traced +the motiveless crimes of the young.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>No one can compare this passage of Dr. Forbes Winslow with the incidents +we have already cited as occurring in that fatal period before the separation +of Lord and Lady Byron, and not feel that the hapless young wife was +indeed struggling with those inflexible natural laws, which, at some +stages of retribution, involve in their awful sweep the guilty with +the innocent. She longed to save; but he was gone past redemption. +Alcoholic stimulants and licentious excesses, without doubt, had produced +those unseen changes in the brain, of which Dr. Forbes Winslow speaks; +and the results were terrible in proportion to the peculiar fineness +and delicacy of the organism deranged.</p> +<p>Alas! the history of Lady Byron is the history of too many women +in every rank of life who are called, in agonies of perplexity and fear, +to watch that gradual process by which physical excesses change the +organism of the brain, till slow, creeping, moral insanity comes on. +The woman who is the helpless victim of cruelties which only unnatural +states of the brain could invent, who is heart-sick to-day and dreads +to-morrow,—looks in hopeless horror on the fatal process by which +a lover and a protector changes under her eyes, from day to day, to +a brute and a fiend.</p> +<p>Lady Byron’s married life—alas! it is lived over in many +a cottage and tenement-house, with no understanding on either side of +the cause of the woeful misery.</p> +<p>Dr. Winslow truly says, ‘The science of these brain-affections +is yet in its infancy in England.’ At that time, it had +not even begun to be. Madness was a fixed point; and the inquiries +into it had no nicety. Its treatment, if established, had no redeeming +power. Insanity simply locked a man up as a dangerous being; and +the very suggestion of it, therefore, was resented as an injury.</p> +<p>A most peculiar and affecting feature of that form of brain disease +which hurries its victim, as by an overpowering mania, into crime, is, +that often the moral faculties and the affections remain to a degree +unimpaired, and protest with all their strength against the outrage. +Hence come conflicts and agonies of remorse proportioned to the strength +of the moral nature. Byron, more than any other one writer, may +be called the poet of remorse. His passionate pictures of this +feeling seem to give new power to the English language:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘There is a war, a chaos of the mind,<br /> +When all its elements convulsed—combined,<br /> +Lie dark and jarring with perturbèd force,<br /> +And gnashing with impenitent remorse,<br /> +That juggling fiend, who never spake before,<br /> +But cries, “I warned thee!” when the deed is o’er.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It was this remorse that formed the only redeeming feature of the +case. Its eloquence, its agonies, won from all hearts the interest +that we give to a powerful nature in a state of danger and ruin; and +it may be hoped that this feeling, which tempers the stern justice of +human judgments, may prove only a faint image of the wider charity of +Him whose thoughts are as far above ours as the heaven is above the +earth.</p> +<h3>CHAPTER VII. HOW COULD SHE LOVE HIM?</h3> +<p>It has seemed, to some, wholly inconsistent, that Lady Byron, if +this story were true, could retain any kindly feeling for Lord Byron, +or any tenderness for his memory; that the profession implied a certain +hypocrisy: but, in this sad review, we may see how the woman who once +had loved him, might, in spite of every wrong he had heaped upon her, +still have looked on this awful wreck and ruin chiefly with pity. +While she stood afar, and refused to justify or join in the polluted +idolatry which defended his vices, there is evidence in her writings +that her mind often went back mournfully, as a mother’s would, +to the early days when he might have been saved.</p> +<p>One of her letters in Robinson’s Memoirs, in regard to his +religious opinions, shows with what intense earnestness she dwelt upon +the unhappy influences of his childhood and youth, and those early theologies +which led him to regard himself as one of the reprobate. She says,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Not merely from casual expressions, but from the +whole tenor of Lord Byron’s feelings, I could not but conclude +that he was a believer in the inspiration of the Bible, and had the +gloomiest Calvinistic tenets. To that unhappy view of the relation +of the creature to the Creator I have always ascribed the misery of +his life.</p> +<p>‘It is enough for me to know that he who thinks his transgression +beyond forgiveness . . . has righteousness beyond that of the self-satisfied +sinner. It is impossible for me to doubt, that, could he once +have been assured of pardon, his living faith in moral duty, and love +of virtue (“I love the virtues that I cannot claim”), would +have conquered every temptation. Judge, then, how I must hate +the creed that made him see God as an Avenger, and not as a Father! +My own impressions were just the reverse, but could have but little +weight; and it was in vain to seek to turn his thoughts from that fixed +idea with which he connected his personal peculiarity as a stamp. +Instead of being made happier by any apparent good, he felt convinced +that every blessing would be turned into a curse to him . . . “The +worst of it is, I do believe,” he said. I, like all connected +with him, was broken against the rock of predestination. I may +be pardoned for my frequent reference to the sentiment (expressed by +him), that I was only sent to show him the happiness he was forbidden +to enjoy.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In this letter we have the heart, not of the wife, but of the mother,—the +love that searches everywhere for extenuations of the guilt it is forced +to confess.</p> +<p>That Lady Byron was not alone in ascribing such results to the doctrines +of Calvinism, in certain cases, appears from the language of the Thirty-nine +Articles, which says:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘As the godly consideration of predestination, +and our election in Christ, is full of sweet, pleasant, and unspeakable +comfort to godly persons, and such as feel in themselves the workings +of the spirit of Christ; . . . so, for curious and carnal persons, +lacking the spirit of Christ, to have continually before their eyes +the sentence of God’s predestination, is a most dangerous downfall, +whereby the Devil doth thrust them either into desperation, or into +recklessness of most unclean living,—no less perilous than desperation.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Lord Byron’s life is an exact commentary on these words, which +passed under the revision of Calvin himself.</p> +<p>The whole tone of this letter shows not only that Lady Byron never +lost her deep interest in her husband, but that it was by this experience +that all her religious ideas were modified. There is another of +these letters in which she thus speaks of her husband’s writings +and character:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The author of the article on “Goethe” +appears to me to have the mind which could dispel the illusion about +another poet, without depreciating his claims . . . to the truest inspiration.</p> +<p>‘Who has sought to distinguish between the holy and the unholy +in that spirit? to prove, by the very degradation of the one, how high +the other was. A character is never done justice to by extenuating +its faults: so I do not agree to nisi bonum. It is kinder to read +the blotted page.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>These letters show that Lady Byron’s idea was that, even were +the whole mournful truth about Lord Byron fully told, there was still +a foundation left for pity and mercy. She seems to have remembered, +that if his sins were peculiar, so also were his temptations; and to +have schooled herself for years to gather up, and set in order in her +memory, all that yet remained precious in this great ruin. Probably +no English writer that ever has made the attempt could have done this +more perfectly. Though Lady Byron was not a poet <i>par excellence</i>, +yet she belonged to an order of souls fully equal to Lord Byron. +Hers was more the analytical mind of the philosopher than the creative +mind of the poet; and it was, for that reason, the one mind in our day +capable of estimating him fully both with justice and mercy. No +person in England had a more intense sensibility to genius, in its loftier +acceptation, than Lady Byron; and none more completely sympathised with +what was pure and exalted in her husband’s writings.</p> +<p>There is this peculiarity in Lord Byron, that the pure and the impure +in his poetry often run side by side without mixing,—as one may +see at Geneva the muddy stream of the Arve and the blue waters of the +Rhone flowing together unmingled. What, for example, can be nobler, +and in a higher and tenderer moral strain than his lines on the dying +gladiator, in ‘Childe Harold’? What is more like the +vigour of the old Hebrew Scriptures than his thunderstorm in the Alps? +What can more perfectly express moral ideality of the highest kind than +the exquisite descriptions of Aurora Raby,—pure and high in thought +and language, occurring, as they do, in a work full of the most utter +vileness?</p> +<p>Lady Byron’s hopes for her husband fastened themselves on all +the noble fragments yet remaining in that shattered temple of his mind +which lay blackened and thunder-riven; and she looked forward to a sphere +beyond this earth, where infinite mercy should bring all again to symmetry +and order. If the strict theologian must regret this as an undue +latitude of charity, let it at least be remembered that it was a charity +which sprang from a Christian virtue, and which she extended to every +human being, however lost, however low. In her view, the mercy +which took <i>him</i> was mercy that could restore all.</p> +<p>In my recollections of the interview with Lady Byron, when this whole +history was presented, I can remember that it was with a softened and +saddened feeling that I contemplated the story, as one looks on some +awful, inexplicable ruin.</p> +<p>The last letter which I addressed to Lady Byron upon this subject +will show that such was the impression of the whole interview. +It was in reply to the one written on the death of my son:—</p> +<p> ‘Jan. +30, 1858.</p> +<blockquote><p>‘MY DEAR FRIEND,—I did long to hear from +you at a time when few knew how to speak, because I knew that you had +known everything that sorrow can teach,—you, whose whole life +has been a crucifixion, a long ordeal.</p> +<p>‘But I believe that the Lamb, who stands for ever “in +the midst of the throne, as it had been slain,” has everywhere +His followers,—those who seem sent into the world, as He was, +to suffer for the redemption of others; and, like Him, they must look +to the joy set before them,—of redeeming others.</p> +<p>‘I often think that God called you to this beautiful and terrible +ministry when He suffered you to link your destiny with one so strangely +gifted and so fearfully tempted. Perhaps the reward that is to +meet you when you enter within the veil where you must so soon pass +will be to see that spirit, once chained and defiled, set free and purified; +and to know that to you it has been given, by your life of love and +faith, to accomplish this glorious change.</p> +<p>‘I think increasingly on the subject on which you conversed +with me once,—the future state of retribution. It is evident +to me that the spirit of Christianity has produced in the human spirit +a tenderness of love which wholly revolts from the old doctrine on this +subject; and I observe, that, the more Christ-like anyone becomes, the +more difficult it seems for them to accept it as hitherto presented. +And yet, on the contrary, it was Christ who said, “Fear Him that +is able to destroy both soul and body in hell;” and the most appalling +language is that of Christ himself.</p> +<p>‘Certain ideas, once prevalent, certainly must be thrown off. +An endless infliction for past sins was once the doctrine: that we now +generally reject. The doctrine now generally taught is, that an +eternal persistence in evil necessitates everlasting suffering, since +evil induces misery by the eternal nature of things; and this, I fear, +is inferable from the analogies of Nature, and confirmed by the whole +implication of the Bible.</p> +<p>‘What attention have you given to this subject? and is there +any fair way of disposing of the current of assertion, and the still +deeper under-current of implication, on this subject, without admitting +one which loosens all faith in revelation, and throws us on pure naturalism? +But of one thing I always feel sure: probation does not end with this +present life; and the number of the saved may therefore be infinitely +greater than the world’s history leads us to suppose.</p> +<p>‘I think the Bible implies a great crisis, a struggle, an agony, +in which God and Christ and all the good are engaged in redeeming from +sin; and we are not to suppose that the little portion that is done +for souls as they pass between the two doors of birth and death is all.</p> +<p>‘The Bible is certainly silent there. The primitive Church +believed in the mercies of an intermediate state; and it was only the +abuse of it by Romanism that drove the Church into its present position, +which, I think, is wholly indefensible, and wholly irreconcilable with +the spirit of Christ. For if it were the case, that probation +in all cases begins and ends here, God’s example would surely +be one that could not be followed, and He would seem to be far less +persevering than even human beings in efforts to save.</p> +<p>‘Nothing is plainer than that it would be wrong to give up +any mind to eternal sin till every possible thing had been done for +its recovery; and that is so clearly not the case here, that I can see +that, with thoughtful minds, this belief would cut the very roots of +religious faith in God: for there is a difference between facts that +we do not understand, and facts which we do understand, and perceive +to be wholly irreconcilable with a certain character professed by God.</p> +<p>‘If God says He is love, and certain ways of explaining Scripture +make Him less loving and patient than man, then we make Scripture contradict +itself. Now, as no passage of Scripture limits probation to this +life, and as one passage in Peter certainly unequivocally asserts that +Christ preached to the spirits in prison while His body lay in the grave, +I am clear upon this point.</p> +<p>‘But it is also clear, that if there be those who persist in +refusing God’s love, who choose to dash themselves for ever against +the inflexible laws of the universe, such souls must for ever suffer.</p> +<p>‘There may be souls who hate purity because it reveals their +vileness; who refuse God’s love, and prefer eternal conflict with +it. For such there can be no peace. Even in this life, we +see those whom the purest self-devoting love only inflames to madness; +and we have only to suppose an eternal persistence in this to suppose +eternal misery.</p> +<p>‘But on this subject we can only leave all reverently in the +hands of that Being whose almighty power is “declared chiefly +in showing mercy.”’</p> +</blockquote> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII. CONCLUSION.</h3> +<p>In leaving this subject, I have an appeal to make to the men, and +more especially to the women, who have been my readers.</p> +<p>In justice to Lady Byron, it must be remembered that this publication +of her story is not her act, but mine. I trust you have already +conceded, that, in so severe and peculiar a trial, she had a right to +be understood fully by her immediate circle of friends, and to seek +of them counsel in view of the moral questions to which such very exceptional +circumstances must have given rise. Her communication to me was +not an address to the public: it was a statement of the case for advice. +True, by leaving the whole, unguarded by pledge or promise, it left +discretionary power with me to use it if needful.</p> +<p>You, my sisters, are to judge whether the accusation laid against +Lady Byron by the ‘Blackwood,’ in 1869, was not of so barbarous +a nature as to justify my producing the truth I held in my hands in +reply.</p> +<p>The ‘Blackwood’ claimed a right to re-open the subject +because it was <i>not</i> a private but a public matter. It claimed +that Lord Byron’s unfortunate marriage might have changed not +only his own destiny, but that of all England. It suggested, that, +but for this, instead of wearing out his life in vice, and corrupting +society by impure poetry, he might, at this day, have been leading the +counsels of the State, and helping the onward movements of the world. +Then it directly charged Lady Byron with meanly forsaking her husband +in a time of worldly misfortune; with fabricating a destructive accusation +of crime against him, and confirming this accusation by years of persistent +silence more guilty than open assertion.</p> +<p>It has been alleged, that, even admitting that Lady Byron’s +story were true, it never ought to have been told. Is it true, +then, that a woman has not the same right to individual justice that +a man has? If the cases were reversed, would it have been thought +just that Lord Byron should go down in history loaded with accusations +of crime because he could be only vindicated by exposing the crime of +his wife?</p> +<p>It has been said that the crime charged on Lady Byron was comparatively +unimportant, and the one against Lord Byron was deadly.</p> +<p>But the ‘Blackwood,’ in opening the controversy, called +Lady Byron by the name of an unnatural female criminal, whose singular +atrocities alone entitle her to infamous notoriety; and the crime charged +upon her was sufficient to warrant the comparison.</p> +<p>Both crimes are foul, unnatural, horrible; and there is no middle +ground between the admission of the one or the other.</p> +<p>You must either conclude that a woman, all whose other works, words, +and deeds were generous, just, and gentle, committed this one monstrous +exceptional crime, without a motive, and against all the analogies of +her character, and all the analogies of her treatment of others; or +you must suppose that a man known by all testimony to have been boundlessly +licentious, who took the very course which, by every physiological law, +would have led to unnatural results, did, at last, commit an unnatural +crime.</p> +<p>The question, whether I did right, when Lady Byron was thus held +up as an abandoned criminal by the ‘Blackwood,’ to interpose +my knowledge of the real truth in her defence, is a serious one; but +it is one for which I must account to God alone, and in which, without +any contempt of the opinions of my fellow-creatures, I must say, that +it is a small thing to be judged of man’s judgment.</p> +<p>I had in the case a responsibility very different from that of many +others. I had been consulted in relation to the publication of +this story by Lady Byron, at a time when she had it in her power to +have exhibited it with all its proofs, and commanded an instant conviction. +I have reason to think that my advice had some weight in suppressing +that disclosure. I gave that advice under the impression that +the Byron controversy was a thing for ever passed, and never likely +to return.</p> +<p>It had never occurred to me, that, nine years after Lady Byron’s +death, a standard English periodical would declare itself free to re-open +this controversy, when all the generation who were her witnesses had +passed from earth; and that it would re-open it in the most savage form +of accusation, and with the indorsement and commendation of a book of +the vilest slanders, edited by Lord Byron’s mistress.</p> +<p>Let the reader mark the retributions of justice. The accusations +of the ‘Blackwood,’ in 1869, were simply an intensified +form of those first concocted by Lord Byron in his ‘Clytemnestra’ +poem of 1816. He forged that weapon, and bequeathed it to his +party. The ‘Blackwood’ took it up, gave it a sharper +edge, and drove it to the heart of Lady Byron’s fame. The +result has been the disclosure of this history. It is, then, Lord +Byron himself, who, by his network of wiles, his ceaseless persecutions +of his wife, his efforts to extend his partisanship beyond the grave, +has brought on this tumultuous exposure. He, and he alone, is +the cause of this revelation.</p> +<p>And now I have one word to say to those in England who, with all +the facts and documents in their hands which could at once have cleared +Lady Byron’s fame, allowed the barbarous assault of the ‘Blackwood’ +to go over the civilised world without a reply. I speak to those +who, knowing that I am speaking the truth, stand silent; to those who +have now the ability to produce the facts and documents by which this +cause might be instantly settled, and who do not produce them.</p> +<p>I do not judge them; but I remind them that a day is coming when +they and I must stand side by side at the great judgment-seat,—I +to give an account for my speaking, they for their silence.</p> +<p>In that day, all earthly considerations will have vanished like morning +mists, and truth or falsehood, justice or injustice, will be the only +realities.</p> +<p>In that day, God, who will judge the secrets of all men, will judge +between this man and this woman. Then, if never before, the full +truth shall be told both of the depraved and dissolute man who made +it his life’s object to defame the innocent, and the silent, the +self-denying woman who made it her life’s object to give space +for repentance to the guilty.</p> +<p> </p> +<h2>PART III. MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS.</h2> +<h3>THE TRUE STORY OF LADY BYRON’S LIFE,<br /> +AS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN ‘THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY.’</h3> +<p>The reading world of America has lately been presented with a book +which is said to sell rapidly, and which appears to meet with universal +favour.</p> +<p>The subject of the book may be thus briefly stated: The mistress +of Lord Byron comes before the world for the sake of vindicating his +fame from slanders and aspersions cast on him by his wife. The +story of the mistress <i>versus</i> wife may be summed up as follows:—</p> +<p>Lord Byron, the hero of the story, is represented as a human being +endowed with every natural charm, gift, and grace, who, by the one false +step of an unsuitable marriage, wrecked his whole life. A narrow-minded, +cold-hearted precisian, without sufficient intellect to comprehend his +genius, or heart to feel for his temptations, formed with him one of +those mere worldly marriages common in high life; and, finding that +she could not reduce him to the mathematical proprieties and conventional +rules of her own mode of life, suddenly, and without warning, abandoned +him in the most cruel and inexplicable manner.</p> +<p>It is alleged that she parted from him in apparent affection and +good-humour, wrote him a playful, confiding letter upon the way, but, +after reaching her father’s house, suddenly, and without explanation, +announced to him that she would never see him again; that this sudden +abandonment drew down upon him a perfect storm of scandalous stories, +which his wife never contradicted; that she never in any way or shape +stated what the exact reasons for her departure had been, and thus silently +gave scope to all the malice of thousands of enemies. The sensitive +victim was actually driven from England, his home broken up, and he +doomed to be a lonely wanderer on foreign shores.</p> +<p>In Italy, under bluer skies, and among a gentler people, with more +tolerant modes of judgment, the authoress intimates that he found peace +and consolation. A lovely young Italian countess falls in love +with him, and, breaking her family ties for his sake, devotes herself +to him; and, in blissful retirement with her, he finds at last that +domestic life for which he was so fitted.</p> +<p>Soothed, calmed, and refreshed, he writes ‘Don Juan,’ +which the world is at this late hour informed was a poem with a high +moral purpose, designed to be a practical illustration of the doctrine +of total depravity among young gentlemen in high life.</p> +<p>Under the elevating influence of love, he rises at last to higher +realms of moral excellence, and resolves to devote the rest of his life +to some noble and heroic purpose; becomes the saviour of Greece; and +dies untimely, leaving a nation to mourn his loss.</p> +<p>The authoress dwells with a peculiar bitterness on Lady Byron’s +entire <i>silence</i> during all these years, as the most aggravated +form of persecution and injury. She informs the world that Lord +Byron wrote his Autobiography with the purpose of giving a fair statement +of the exact truth in the whole matter; and that Lady Byron bought up +the manuscript of the publisher, and insisted on its being destroyed, +unread; thus inflexibly depriving her husband of his last chance of +a hearing before the tribunal of the public.</p> +<p>As a result of this silent persistent cruelty on the part of a cold, +correct, narrow-minded woman, the character of Lord Byron has been misunderstood, +and his name transmitted to after-ages clouded with aspersions and accusations +which it is the object of this book to remove.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>Such is the story of Lord Byron’s mistress,—a story which +is going the length of this American continent, and rousing up new sympathy +with the poet, and doing its best to bring the youth of America once +more under the power of that brilliant, seductive genius, from which +it was hoped they had escaped. Already we are seeing it revamped +in magazine-articles, which take up the slanders of the paramour and +enlarge on them, and wax eloquent in denunciation of the marble-hearted +insensible wife.</p> +<p>All this while, it does not appear to occur to the thousands of unreflecting +readers that they are listening merely to the story of Lord Byron’s +mistress, and of Lord Byron; and that, even by their own showing, their +heaviest accusation against Lady Byron is that <i>she has not spoken +at all</i>. Her story has never been told.</p> +<p>For many years after the rupture between Lord Byron and his wife, +that poet’s personality, fate, and happiness had an interest for +the whole civilized world, which, we will venture to say, was unparalleled. +It is within the writer’s recollection, how, in the obscure mountain-town +where she spent her early days, Lord Byron’s separation from his +wife was, for a season, the all-engrossing topic.</p> +<p>She remembers hearing her father recount at the breakfast-table the +facts as they were given in the public papers, together with his own +suppositions and theories of the causes.</p> +<p>Lord Byron’s ‘Fare thee well,’ addressed to Lady +Byron, was set to music, and sung with tears by young school-girls, +even in this distant America.</p> +<p>Madame de Staël said of this appeal, that she was sure it would +have drawn her at once to his heart and his arms; <i>she</i> could have +forgiven everything: and so said all the young ladies all over the world, +not only in England but in France and Germany, wherever Byron’s +poetry appeared in translation.</p> +<p>Lady Byron’s obdurate cold-heartedness in refusing even to +listen to his prayers, or to have any intercourse with him which might +lead to reconciliation, was the one point conceded on all sides.</p> +<p>The stricter moralists defended her; but gentler hearts throughout +all the world regarded her as a marble-hearted monster of correctness +and morality, a personification of the law unmitigated by the gospel.</p> +<p>Literature in its highest walks busied itself with Lady Byron. +Hogg, in the character of the Ettrick Shepherd, devotes several eloquent +passages to expatiating on the conjugal fidelity of a poor Highland +shepherd’s wife, who, by patience and prayer and forgiveness, +succeeds in reclaiming her drunken husband, and making a good man of +him; and then points his moral by contrasting with this touching picture +the cold-hearted pharisaical correctness of Lady Byron.</p> +<p>Moore, in his ‘Life of Lord Byron,’ when beginning the +recital of the series of disgraceful amours which formed the staple +of his life in Venice, has this passage:—</p> +<p>‘Highly censurable in point of morality and decorum as was +his course of life while under the roof of Madame ----, it was (with +pain I am forced to confess) venial in comparison with the strange, +headlong career of licence to which, when weaned from that connection, +he so unrestrainedly, and, it may be added, defyingly abandoned himself. +Of the state of his mind on leaving England, I have already endeavoured +to convey some idea; and among the feelings that went to make up that +self-centred spirit of resistance which he then opposed to his fate +was an indignant scorn for his own countrymen for the wrongs he thought +they had done him. For a time, <i>the kindly sentiments which +he still harboured toward Lady Byron, and a sort of vague hope, perhaps, +that all would yet come right again</i>, kept his mind in a mood somewhat +more softened and docile, as well as sufficiently under the influence +of English opinions to prevent his breaking out into open rebellion +against it, as he unluckily did afterward.</p> +<p><i>‘By the failure of the attempted mediation with Lady Byron</i>, +his last link with home was severed: while, notwithstanding the quiet +and unobtrusive life which he led at Geneva, there was as yet, he found, +no cessation of the slanderous warfare against his character; the same +busy and misrepresenting spirit which had tracked his every step at +home, having, with no less malicious watchfulness, dogged him into exile.’</p> +<p>We should like to know what the misrepresentations and slanders must +have been, when this sort of thing is admitted in Mr. Moore’s +<i>justification</i>. It seems to us rather wonderful how anybody, +unless it were a person like the Countess Guiccioli, could misrepresent +a life such as even Byron’s friend admits he was leading.</p> +<p>During all these years, when he was setting at defiance every principle +of morality and decorum, the interest of the female mind all over Europe +in the conversion of this brilliant prodigal son was unceasing, and +reflects the greatest credit upon the faith of the sex.</p> +<p>Madame de Staël commenced the first effort at evangelization +immediately after he left England, and found her catechumen in a most +edifying state of humility. He was, metaphorically, on his knees +in penitence, and confessed himself a miserable sinner in the loveliest +manner possible. Such sweetness and humility took all hearts. +His conversations with Madame de Staël were printed, and circulated +all over the world; making it to appear that only the inflexibility +of Lady Byron stood in the way of his entire conversion.</p> +<p>Lady Blessington, among many others, took him in hand five or six +years afterwards, and was greatly delighted with his docility, and edified +by his frank and free confessions of his miserable offences. Nothing +now seemed wanting to bring the wanderer home to the fold but a kind +word from Lady Byron. But, when the fair countess offered to mediate, +the poet only shook his head in tragic despair; ‘he had so many +times tried in vain; Lady Byron’s course had been from the first +that of obdurate silence.’</p> +<p>Any one who would wish to see a specimen of the skill of the honourable +poet in mystification will do well to read a letter to Lady Byron, which +Lord Byron, on parting from Lady Blessington, enclosed for her to read +just before he went to Greece. He says,—</p> +<p>‘The letter which I enclose <i>I was prevented from sending +by my despair of its doing any good</i>. I was perfectly sincere +when I wrote it, and am so still. But it is difficult for me to +withstand the thousand provocations on that subject which both friends +and foes have for seven years been throwing in the way of a man whose +feelings were once quick, and whose temper was never patient.’</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>‘TO LADY BYRON, CARE OF THE HON. MRS. LEIGH, LONDON.</p> +<p> ‘PISA, +<i>Nov</i>. 17, 1821.</p> +<p>‘I have to acknowledge the receipt of “Ada’s hair,” +which is very soft and pretty, and nearly as dark already as mine was +at twelve years old, if I may judge from what I recollect of some in +Augusta’s possession, taken at that age. But it don’t +curl—perhaps from its being let grow.</p> +<p>‘I also thank you for the inscription of the date and name; +and I will tell you why: I believe that they are the only two or three +words of your handwriting in my possession. For your letters I +returned; and except the two words, or rather the one word, “Household,” +written twice in an old account book, I have no other. I burnt +your last note, for two reasons: firstly, it was written in a style +not very agreeable; and, secondly, I wished to take your word without +documents, which are the worldly resources of suspicious people.</p> +<p>‘I suppose that this note will reach you somewhere about Ada’s +birthday—the 10th of December, I believe. She will then +be six: so that, in about twelve more, I shall have some chance of meeting +her; perhaps sooner, if I am obliged to go to England by business or +otherwise. Recollect, however, one thing, either in distance or +nearness—every day which keeps us asunder should, after so long +a period, rather soften our mutual feelings; which must always have +one rallying point as long as our child exists, which, I presume, we +both hope will be long after either of her parents.</p> +<p>‘The time which has elapsed since the separation has been considerably +more than the whole brief period of our union, and the not much longer +one of our prior acquaintance. We both made a bitter mistake; +but now it is over, and irrevocably so. For at thirty-three on +my part, and few years less on yours, though it is no very extended +period of life, still it is one when the habits and thought are generally +so formed as to admit of no modification; and, as we could not agree +when younger, we should with difficulty do so now.</p> +<p>‘I say all this, because I own to you, that notwithstanding +everything, I considered our reunion as not impossible for more than +a year after the separation; but then I gave up the hope entirely and +for ever. But this very impossibility of reunion seems to me at +least a reason why, on all the few points of discussion which can arise +between us, we should preserve the courtesies of life, and as much of +its kindness as people who are never to meet may preserve,—perhaps +more easily than nearer connections. For my own part, I am violent, +but not malignant; for only fresh provocations can awaken my resentments. +To you, who are colder and more concentrated, I would just hint, that +you may sometimes mistake the depth of a cold anger for dignity, and +a worse feeling for duty. I assure you that I bear you <i>now</i> +(whatever I may have done) no resentment whatever. Remember, that, +<i>if you have injured me</i> in aught, this forgiveness is something; +and that, if I have <i>injured you</i>, it is something more still, +if it be true, as the moralists say, that the most offending are the +least forgiving.</p> +<p>‘Whether the offence has been solely on my side, or reciprocal, +or on yours chiefly, I have ceased to reflect upon any but two things; +viz., that you are the mother of my child, and that we shall never meet +again. I think, if you also consider the two corresponding points +with reference to myself, it will be better for all three.</p> +<p> ‘Yours +ever,</p> +<p> ‘NOEL +BYRON.’</p> +<p>The artless Thomas Moore introduces this letter in the ‘Life,’ +with the remark,—</p> +<p>‘There are few, I should think, of my readers, who will not +agree with me in pronouncing, that, if the author of the following letter +had not <i>right</i> on his side, he had at least most of those good +feelings which are found in general to accompany it.’</p> +<p>The reader is requested to take notice of the important admission; +that <i>the letter was never sent to Lady Byron at all</i>. It +was, in fact, never <i>intended</i> for her, but was a nice little dramatic +performance, composed simply with the view of acting on the sympathies +of Lady Blessington and Byron’s numerous female admirers; and +the reader will agree with us, we think, that, in this point of view, +it was very neatly done, and deserves immortality as a work of high +art. For six years he had been plunged into every kind of vice +and excess, pleading his shattered domestic joys, and his wife’s +obdurate heart, as the apology and the impelling cause; filling the +air with his shrieks and complaints concerning the slander which pursued +him, while he filled letters to his confidential correspondents with +records of new mistresses. During all these years, the silence +of Lady Byron was unbroken; though Lord Byron not only drew in private +on the sympathies of his female admirers, but employed his talents and +position as an author in holding her up to contempt and ridicule before +thousands of readers. We shall quote at length his side of the +story, which he published in the First Canto of ‘Don Juan,’ +that the reader may see how much reason he had for assuming the injured +tone which he did in the letter to Lady Byron quoted above. That +letter never was sent to her; and the unmanly and indecent caricature +of her, and the indelicate exposure of the whole story on his own side, +which we are about to quote, were the only communications that could +have reached her solitude.</p> +<p>In the following verses, Lady Byron is represented as Donna Inez, +and Lord Byron as Don José; but the incidents and allusions were +so very pointed, that nobody for a moment doubted whose history the +poet was narrating.</p> +<blockquote><p>‘His mother was a learned lady, famed<br /> + For every branch of every science known<br /> +In every Christian language ever named,<br /> + With virtues equalled by her wit alone:<br /> +She made the cleverest people quite ashamed;<br /> + And even the good with inward envy groaned,<br /> +Finding themselves so very much exceeded<br /> +In their own way by all the things that she did.<br /> +. . +. .<br /> +Save that her duty both to man and God<br /> +Required this conduct; which seemed very odd.</p> +<p>She kept a journal where his faults were noted,<br /> + And opened certain trunks of books and letters,<br /> +(All which might, if occasion served, be quoted);<br /> + And then she had all Seville for abettors,<br /> +Besides her good old grandmother (who doted):<br /> + The hearers of her case become repeaters,<br /> +Then advocates, inquisitors, and judges,—<br /> +Some for amusement, others for old grudges.</p> +<p>And then this best and meekest woman bore<br /> + With such serenity her husband’s woes!<br /> +Just as the Spartan ladies did of yore,<br /> + Who saw their spouses killed, and nobly chose<br /> +Never to say a word about them more.<br /> + Calmly she heard each calumny that rose,<br /> +And saw his agonies with such sublimity,<br /> +That all the world exclaimed, “What magnanimity!”’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This is the longest and most elaborate version of his own story that +Byron ever published; but he busied himself with many others, projecting +at one time a Spanish romance, in which the same story is related in +the same transparent manner: but this he was dissuaded from printing. +The booksellers, however, made a good speculation in publishing what +they called his domestic poems; that is, poems bearing more or less +relation to this subject.</p> +<p>Every person with whom he became acquainted with any degree of intimacy +was made familiar with his side of the story. Moore’s Biography +is from first to last, in its representations, founded upon Byron’s +communicativeness, and Lady Byron’s silence; and the world at +last settled down to believing that the account so often repeated, and +never contradicted, must be substantially a true one.</p> +<p>The true history of Lord and Lady Byron has long been perfectly understood +in many circles in England; but the facts were of a nature that could +not be made public. While there was a young daughter living whose +future might be prejudiced by its recital, and while there were other +persons on whom the disclosure of the real truth would have been crushing +as an avalanche, Lady Byron’s only course was the perfect silence +in which she took refuge, and those sublime works of charity and mercy +to which she consecrated her blighted early life.</p> +<p>But the time is now come when the truth may be told. All the +actors in the scene have disappeared from the stage of mortal existence, +and passed, let us have faith to hope, into a world where they would +desire to expiate their faults by a late publication of the truth.</p> +<p>No person in England, we think, would as yet take the responsibility +of relating the true history which is to clear Lady Byron’s memory; +but, by a singular concurrence of circumstances, all the facts of the +case, in the most undeniable and authentic form, were at one time placed +in the hands of the writer of this sketch, with authority to make such +use of them as she should judge best. Had this melancholy history +been allowed to sleep, no public use would have been made of them; but +the appearance of a popular attack on the character of Lady Byron calls +for a vindication, and the true story of her married life will therefore +now be related.</p> +<p>Lord Byron has described in one of his letters the impression left +upon his mind by a young person whom he met one evening in society, +and who attracted his attention by the simplicity of her dress, and +a certain air of singular purity and calmness with which she surveyed +the scene around her.</p> +<p>On inquiry, he was told that this young person was Miss Milbanke, +an only child, and one of the largest heiresses in England.</p> +<p>Lord Byron was fond of idealising his experiences in poetry; and +the friends of Lady Byron had no difficulty in recognising the portrait +of Lady Byron, as she appeared at this time of her life, in his exquisite +description of Aurora Raby:—</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘There +was<br /> +Indeed a certain fair and fairy one,<br /> + Of the best class, and better than her class,—<br /> +Aurora Raby, a young star who shone<br /> + O’er life, too sweet an image for such glass;<br /> +A lovely being scarcely formed or moulded;<br /> +A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.</p> +<p>. . +. .</p> +<p>Early in years, and yet more infantine<br /> + In figure, she had something of sublime<br /> +In eyes which sadly shone as seraphs’ shine;<br /> + All youth, but with an aspect beyond time;<br /> +Radiant and grave, as pitying man’s decline;<br /> +Mournful, but mournful of another’s crime,<br /> +She looked as if she sat by Eden’s door,<br /> +And grieved for those who could return no more.</p> +<p>. . +. .</p> +<p>She gazed upon a world she scarcely knew,<br /> + As seeking not to know it; silent, lone,<br /> +As grows a flower, thus quietly she grew,<br /> + And kept her heart serene within its zone.<br /> +There was awe in the homage which she drew;<br /> + Her spirit seemed as seated on a throne,<br /> +Apart from the surrounding world, and strong<br /> +In its own strength,—most strange in one so young!’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Some idea of the course which their acquaintance took, and of the +manner in which he was piqued into thinking of her, is given in a stanza +or two:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The dashing and proud air of Adeline<br /> + Imposed not upon her: she saw her blaze<br /> +Much as she would have seen a glow-worm shine;<br /> + Then turned unto the stars for loftier rays.<br /> +Juan was something she could not divine,<br /> + Being no sibyl in the new world’s ways;<br /> +Yet she was nothing dazzled by the meteor,<br /> +Because she did not pin her faith on feature.</p> +<p>His fame too (for he had that kind of fame<br /> + Which sometimes plays the deuce with womankind,—<br /> +A heterogeneous mass of glorious blame,<br /> + Half virtues and whole vices being combined;<br /> +Faults which attract because they are not tame;<br /> + Follies tricked out so brightly that they blind),—<br /> +These seals upon her wax made no impression,<br /> +Such was her coldness or her self-possession.</p> +<p>Aurora sat with that indifference<br /> + Which piques a preux chevalier,—as it ought.<br /> +Of all offences, that’s the worst offence<br /> + Which seems to hint you are not worth a thought.</p> +<p>. . +. .</p> +<p>To his gay nothings, nothing was replied,<br /> + Or something which was nothing, as urbanity<br /> +Required. Aurora scarcely looked aside,<br /> + Nor even smiled enough for any vanity.<br /> +The Devil was in the girl! Could it be pride,<br /> + Or modesty, or absence, or inanity?</p> +<p>. . +. .</p> +<p>Juan was drawn thus into some attentions,<br /> + Slight but select, and just enough to express,<br /> +To females of perspicuous comprehensions,<br /> + That he would rather make them more than less.<br /> +Aurora at the last (so history mentions,<br /> + Though probably much less a fact than guess)<br /> +So far relaxed her thoughts from their sweet prison<br /> +As once or twice to smile, if not to listen.</p> +<p>. . +. .</p> +<p>But Juan had a sort of winning way,<br /> + A proud humility, if such there be,<br /> +Which showed such deference to what females say,<br /> + As if each charming word were a decree.<br /> +His tact, too, tempered him from grave to gay,<br /> + And taught him when to be reserved or free.<br /> +He had the art of drawing people out,<br /> +Without their seeing what he was about.</p> +<p>Aurora, who in her indifference,<br /> + Confounded him in common with the crowd<br /> +Of flatterers, though she deemed he had more sense<br /> + Than whispering foplings or than witlings loud,<br /> +Commenced (from such slight things will great commence)<br /> + To feel that flattery which attracts the proud,<br /> +Rather by deference than compliment,<br /> +And wins even by a delicate dissent.</p> +<p>And then he had good looks: that point was carried<br /> + Nem. con. amongst the women.</p> +<p>. . +. .</p> +<p> Now, though we know of old that looks deceive,<br /> +And always have done, somehow these good looks,<br /> +Make more impression than the best of books.</p> +<p>Aurora, who looked more on books than faces,<br /> + Was very young, although so very sage:<br /> +Admiring more Minerva than the Graces,<br /> + Especially upon a printed page.<br /> +But Virtue’s self, with all her tightest laces,<br /> + Has not the natural stays of strict old age;<br /> +And Socrates, that model of all duty,<br /> +Owned to a penchant, though discreet for beauty.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The presence of this high-minded, thoughtful, unworldly woman is +described through two cantos of the wild, rattling ‘Don Juan,’ +in a manner that shows how deeply the poet was capable of being affected +by such an appeal to his higher nature.</p> +<p>For instance, when Don Juan sits silent and thoughtful amid a circle +of persons who are talking scandal, the poet says,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘’Tis true, he saw Aurora look as though<br /> + She approved his silence: she perhaps mistook<br /> +Its motive for that charity we owe,<br /> + But seldom pay, the absent.</p> +<p>. . +. .</p> +<p>He gained esteem where it was worth the most;<br /> + And certainly Aurora had renewed<br /> +In him some feelings he had lately lost<br /> + Or hardened,—feelings which, perhaps ideal,<br /> +Are so divine that I must deem them real:—</p> +<p>The love of higher things and better days;<br /> + The unbounded hope and heavenly ignorance<br /> +Of what is called the world and the world’s ways;<br /> + The moments when we gather from a glance<br /> +More joy than from all future pride or praise,<br /> + Which kindled manhood, but can ne’er entrance<br /> +The heart in an existence of its own<br /> +Of which another’s bosom is the zone.</p> +<p>And full of sentiments sublime as billows<br /> + Heaving between this world and worlds beyond,<br /> +Don Juan, when the midnight hour of pillows<br /> + Arrived, retired to his.’ . . .</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In all these descriptions of a spiritual unworldly nature acting +on the spiritual and unworldly part of his own nature, every one who +ever knew Lady Byron intimately must have recognised the model from +which he drew, and the experience from which he spoke, even though nothing +was further from his mind than to pay this tribute to the woman he had +injured, and though before these lines, which showed how truly he knew +her real character, had come one stanza of ribald, vulgar caricature, +designed as a slight to her:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘There was Miss Millpond, smooth as summer’s +sea,<br /> + That usual paragon, an only daughter,<br /> +Who seemed the cream of equanimity<br /> + ‘Till skimmed; and then there was some milk and water;<br /> +With a slight shade of blue, too, it might be,<br /> + Beneath the surface: but what did it matter?<br /> +Love’s riotous; but marriage should have quiet,<br /> +And, being consumptive, live on a milk diet.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The result of Byron’s intimacy with Miss Milbanke and the enkindling +of his nobler feelings was an offer of marriage, which she, though at +the time deeply interested in him, declined with many expressions of +friendship and interest. In fact, she already loved him, but had +that doubt of her power to be to him all that a wife should be, which +would be likely to arise in a mind so sensitively constituted and so +unworldly. They, however, continued a correspondence as friends; +on her part, the interest continually increased; on his, the transient +rise of better feelings was choked and overgrown by the thorns of base +unworthy passions.</p> +<p>From the height at which he might have been happy as the husband +of a noble woman, he fell into the depths of a secret adulterous intrigue +with a blood relation, so near in consanguinity, that discovery must +have been utter ruin and expulsion from civilised society.</p> +<p>From henceforth, this damning guilty secret became the ruling force +in his life; holding him with a morbid fascination, yet filling him +with remorse and anguish, and insane dread of detection. Two years +after his refusal by Miss Milbanke, his various friends, seeing that +for some cause he was wretched, pressed marriage upon him.</p> +<p>Marriage has often been represented as the proper goal and terminus +of a wild and dissipated career; and it has been supposed to be the +appointed mission of good women to receive wandering prodigals, with +all the rags and disgraces of their old life upon them, and put rings +on their hands, and shoes on their feet, and introduce them, clothed +and in their right minds, to an honourable career in society.</p> +<p>Marriage was, therefore, universally recommended to Lord Byron by +his numerous friends and well-wishers; and so he determined to marry, +and, in an hour of reckless desperation, sat down and wrote proposals +to two ladies. One was declined: the other, which was accepted, +was to Miss Milbanke. The world knows well that he had the gift +of expression, and will not be surprised that he wrote a very beautiful +letter, and that the woman who had already learned to love him fell +at once into the snare.</p> +<p>Her answer was a frank, outspoken avowal of her love for him, giving +herself to him heart and hand. The good in Lord Byron was not +so utterly obliterated that he could receive such a letter without emotion, +or practise such unfairness on a loving, trusting heart without pangs +of remorse. He had sent the letter in mere recklessness; he had +not seriously expected to be accepted; and the discovery of the treasure +of affection which he had secured was like a vision of lost heaven to +a soul in hell.</p> +<p>But, nevertheless, in his letters written about the engagement, there +are sufficient evidences that his self-love was flattered at the preference +accorded him by so superior a woman, and one who had been so much sought. +He mentions with an air of complacency that she has employed the last +two years in refusing five or six of his acquaintance; that he had no +idea she loved him, admitting that it was an old attachment on his part. +He dwells on her virtues with a sort of pride of ownership. There +is a sort of childish levity about the frankness of these letters, very +characteristic of the man who skimmed over the deepest abysses with +the lightest jests. Before the world, and to his intimates, he +was acting the part of the successful <i>fiancé</i>, conscious +all the while of the deadly secret that lay cold at the bottom of his +heart.</p> +<p>When he went to visit Miss Milbanke’s parents as her accepted +lover, she was struck with his manner and appearance: she saw him moody +and gloomy, evidently wrestling with dark and desperate thoughts, and +anything but what a happy and accepted lover should be. She sought +an interview with him alone, and told him that she had observed that +he was not happy in the engagement; and magnanimously added, that, if +on review, he found he had been mistaken in the nature of his feelings, +she would immediately release him, and they should remain only friends.</p> +<p>Overcome with the conflict of his feelings, Lord Byron fainted away. +Miss Milbanke was convinced that his heart must really be deeply involved +in an attachment with reference to which he showed such strength of +emotion, and she spoke no more of a dissolution of the engagement.</p> +<p>There is no reason to doubt that Byron was, as he relates in his +‘Dream,’ profoundly agonized and agitated when he stood +before God’s altar with the trusting young creature whom he was +leading to a fate so awfully tragic; yet it was not the memory of Mary +Chaworth, but another guiltier and more damning memory, that overshadowed +that hour.</p> +<p>The moment the carriage-doors were shut upon the bridegroom and the +bride, the paroxysm of remorse and despair—unrepentant remorse +and angry despair—broke forth upon her gentle head:—</p> +<p>‘You might have saved me from this, madam! You had all +in your own power when I offered myself to you first. Then you +might have made me what you pleased; but now you will find that you +have married a <i>devil</i>!’</p> +<p>In Miss Martineau’s Sketches, recently published, is an account +of the termination of this wedding-journey, which brought them to one +of Lady Byron’s ancestral country seats, where they were to spend +the honeymoon.</p> +<p>Miss Martineau says,—</p> +<p>‘At the altar she did not know that she was a sacrifice; but +before sunset of that winter day she knew it, if a judgment may be formed +from her face, and attitude of despair, when she alighted from the carriage +on the afternoon of her marriage-day. It was not the traces of +tears which won the sympathy of the old butler who stood at the open +door. The bridegroom jumped out of the carriage and walked away. +The bride alighted, and came up the steps alone, with a countenance +and frame agonized and listless with evident horror and despair. +The old servant longed to offer his arm to the young, lonely creature, +as an assurance of sympathy and protection. From this shock she +certainly rallied, and soon. The pecuniary difficulties of her +new home were exactly what a devoted spirit like hers was fitted to +encounter. Her husband bore testimony, after the catastrophe, +that a brighter being, a more sympathising and agreeable companion, +never blessed any man’s home. When he afterwards called +her cold and mathematical, and over-pious, and so forth, it was when +public opinion had gone against him, and when he had discovered that +her fidelity and mercy, her silence and magnanimity, might be relied +on, so that he was at full liberty to make his part good, as far as +she was concerned.</p> +<p>‘Silent she was even to her own parents, whose feelings she +magnanimously spared. She did not act rashly in leaving him, though +she had been most rash in marrying him.’</p> +<p>Not all at once did the full knowledge of the dreadful reality into +which she had entered come upon the young wife. She knew vaguely, +from the wild avowals of the first hours of their marriage, that there +was a dreadful secret of guilt; that Byron’s soul was torn with +agonies of remorse, and that he had no love to give to her in return +for a love which was ready to do and dare all for him. Yet bravely +she addressed herself to the task of soothing and pleasing and calming +the man whom she had taken ‘for better or for worse.’</p> +<p>Young and gifted; with a peculiar air of refined and spiritual beauty; +graceful in every movement; possessed of exquisite taste; a perfect +companion to his mind in all the higher walks of literary culture; and +with that infinite pliability to all his varying, capricious moods which +true love alone can give; bearing in her hand a princely fortune, which, +with a woman’s uncalculating generosity, was thrown at his feet,—there +is no wonder that she might feel for a while as if she could enter the +lists with the very Devil himself, and fight with a woman’s weapons +for the heart of her husband.</p> +<p>There are indications scattered through the letters of Lord Byron, +which, though brief indeed, showed that his young wife was making every +effort to accommodate herself to him, and to give him a cheerful home. +One of the poems that he sends to his publisher about this time, he +speaks of as being copied by her. He had always the highest regard +for her literary judgments and opinions; and this little incident shows +that she was already associating herself in a wifely fashion with his +aims as an author.</p> +<p>The poem copied by her, however, has a sad meaning, which she afterwards +learned to understand only too well:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘There’s not a joy the world can give like +that it takes away<br /> +When the glow of early thought declines in feeling’s dull decay:<br /> +’Tis not on youth’s smooth cheek the blush alone that fades +so fast;<br /> +But the tender bloom of heart is gone e’er youth itself be past.<br /> +Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of happiness<br /> +Are driven o’er the shoals of guilt, or ocean of excess:<br /> +The magnet of their course is gone, or only points in vain<br /> +The shore to which their shivered sail shall never stretch again.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Only a few days before she left him for ever, Lord Byron sent Murray +manuscripts, in Lady Byron’s handwriting, of the ‘Siege +of Corinth,’ and ‘Parisina,’ and wrote,—</p> +<p>‘I am very glad that the handwriting was a favourable omen +of the <i>morale</i> of the piece: but you must not trust to that; for +my copyist would write out anything I desired, in all the ignorance +of innocence.’</p> +<p>There were lucid intervals in which Lord Byron felt the charm of +his wife’s mind, and the strength of her powers. ‘Bell, +you could be a poet too, if you only thought so,’ he would say. +There were summer-hours in her stormy life, the memory of which never +left her, when Byron was as gentle and tender as he was beautiful; when +he seemed to be possessed by a good angel: and then for a little time +all the ideal possibilities of his nature stood revealed.</p> +<p>The most dreadful men to live with are those who thus alternate between +angel and devil. The buds of hope and love called out by a day +or two of sunshine are frozen again and again, till the tree is killed.</p> +<p>But there came an hour of revelation,—an hour when, in a manner +which left no kind of room for doubt, Lady Byron saw the full depth +of the abyss of infamy which her marriage was expected to cover, and +understood that she was expected to be the cloak and the accomplice +of this infamy.</p> +<p>Many women would have been utterly crushed by such a disclosure; +some would have fled from him immediately, and exposed and denounced +the crime. Lady Byron did neither. When all the hope of +womanhood died out of her heart, there arose within her, stronger, purer, +and brighter, that immortal kind of love such as God feels for the sinner,—the +love of which Jesus spoke, and which holds the one wanderer of more +account than the ninety and nine that went not astray. She would +neither leave her husband nor betray him, nor yet would she for one +moment justify his sin; and hence came two years of convulsive struggle, +in which sometimes, for a while, the good angel seemed to gain ground, +and then the evil one returned with sevenfold vehemence.</p> +<p>Lord Byron argued his case with himself and with her with all the +sophistries of his powerful mind. He repudiated Christianity as +authority; asserted the right of every human being to follow out what +he called ‘the impulses of nature.’ Subsequently he +introduced into one of his dramas the reasoning by which he justified +himself in incest.</p> +<p>In the drama of ‘Cain,’ Adah, the sister and the wife +of Cain, thus addresses him:—</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘Cain, walk not with this spirit.<br /> +Bear with what we have borne, and love me: I<br /> +Love thee.</p> +<p>Lucifer. More than thy mother and thy sire?</p> +<p>Adah. I do. Is that a sin, too?</p> +<p>Lucifer. +No, not yet:<br /> +It one day will be in your children.</p> +<p>Adah. +What!<br /> +Must not my daughter love her brother Enoch?</p> +<p>Lucifer. Not as thou lovest Cain.</p> +<p>Adah. +O my God!<br /> +Shall they not love, and bring forth things that love<br /> +Out of their love? Have they not drawn their milk<br /> +Out of this bosom? Was not he, their father,<br /> +Born of the same sole womb, in the same hour<br /> +With me? Did we not love each other, and,<br /> +In multiplying our being, multiply<br /> +Things which will love each other as we love<br /> +Them? And as I love thee, my Cain, go not<br /> +Forth with this spirit: he is not of ours.</p> +<p>Lucifer. The sin I speak of is not of my making<br /> +And cannot be a sin in you, whate’er<br /> +It seems in those who will replace ye in<br /> +Mortality.</p> +<p>Adah. What is the sin which is not<br /> +Sin in itself? Can circumstance make sin<br /> +Of virtue? If it doth, we are the slaves<br /> +Of’—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Lady Byron, though slight and almost infantine in her bodily presence, +had the soul, not only of an angelic woman, but of a strong reasoning +man. It was the writer’s lot to know her at a period when +she formed the personal acquaintance of many of the very first minds +of England; but, among all with whom this experience brought her in +connection, there was none who impressed her so strongly as Lady Byron. +There was an almost supernatural power of moral divination, a grasp +of the very highest and most comprehensive things, that made her lightest +opinions singularly impressive. No doubt, this result was wrought +out in a great degree from the anguish and conflict of these two years, +when, with no one to help or counsel her but Almighty God, she wrestled +and struggled with fiends of darkness for the redemption of her husband’s +soul.</p> +<p>She followed him through all his sophistical reasonings with a keener +reason. She besought and implored, in the name of his better nature, +and by all the glorious things that he was capable of being and doing; +and she had just power enough to convulse and shake and agonise, but +not power enough to subdue.</p> +<p>One of the first of living writers, in the novel of ‘Romola,’ +has given, in her masterly sketch of the character of Tito, the whole +history of the conflict of a woman like Lady Byron with a nature like +that of her husband. She has described a being full of fascinations +and sweetnesses, full of generosities and of good-natured impulses; +a nature that could not bear to give pain, or to see it in others, but +entirely destitute of any firm moral principle; she shows how such a +being, merely by yielding step by step to the impulses of passion, and +disregarding the claims of truth and right, becomes involved in a fatality +of evil, in which deceit, crime, and cruelty are a necessity, forcing +him to persist in the basest ingratitude to the father who has done +all for him, and hard-hearted treachery to the high-minded wife who +has given herself to him wholly.</p> +<p>There are few scenes in literature more fearfully tragic than the +one between Romola and Tito, when he finally discovers that she knows +him fully, and can be deceived by him no more. Some such hour +always must come for strong decided natures irrevocably pledged—one +to the service of good, and the other to the slavery of evil. +The demoniac cried out, ‘What have I to do with thee, Jesus of +Nazareth? Art thou come to torment me before the time?’ +The presence of all-pitying purity and love was a torture to the soul +possessed by the demon of evil.</p> +<p>These two years in which Lady Byron was with all her soul struggling +to bring her husband back to his better self were a series of passionate +convulsions.</p> +<p>During this time, such was the disordered and desperate state of +his worldly affairs, that there were ten executions for debt levied +on their family establishment; and it was Lady Byron’s fortune +each time which settled the account.</p> +<p>Toward the last, she and her husband saw less and less of each other; +and he came more and more decidedly under evil influences, and seemed +to acquire a sort of hatred of her.</p> +<p>Lady Byron once said significantly to a friend who spoke of some +causeless dislike in another, ‘My dear, I have known people to +be hated for no other reason than because they impersonated conscience.’</p> +<p>The biographers of Lord Byron, and all his apologists, are careful +to narrate how sweet and amiable and obliging he was to everybody who +approached him; and the saying of Fletcher, his man-servant, that <i>‘anybody</i> +could do anything with my Lord, except my Lady,’ has often been +quoted.</p> +<p>The reason of all this will now be evident. ‘My Lady’ +was the only one, fully understanding the deep and dreadful secrets +of his life, who had the courage resolutely and persistently and inflexibly +to plant herself in his way, and insist upon it, that, if he went to +destruction, it should be in spite of her best efforts.</p> +<p>He had tried his strength with her fully. The first attempt +had been to make her an accomplice by sophistry; by destroying her faith +in Christianity, and confusing her sense of right and wrong, to bring +her into the ranks of those convenient women who regard the marriage-tie +only as a friendly alliance to cover licence on both sides.</p> +<p>When her husband described to her the Continental latitude (the good-humoured +marriage, in which complaisant couples mutually agreed to form the cloak +for each other’s infidelities), and gave her to understand that +in this way alone she could have a peaceful and friendly life with him, +she answered him simply, ‘I am too truly your friend to do this.’</p> +<p>When Lord Byron found that he had to do with one who would not yield, +who knew him fully, who could not be blinded and could not be deceived, +he determined to rid himself of her altogether.</p> +<p>It was when the state of affairs between herself and her husband +seemed darkest and most hopeless, that the only child of this union +was born. Lord Byron’s treatment of his wife during the +sensitive period that preceded the birth of this child, and during her +confinement, was marked by paroxysms of unmanly brutality, for which +the only possible charity on her part was the supposition of insanity. +Moore sheds a significant light on this period, by telling us that, +about this time, Byron was often drunk, day after day, with Sheridan. +There had been insanity in the family; and this was the plea which Lady +Byron’s love put in for him. She regarded him as, if not +insane, at least so nearly approaching the boundaries of insanity as +to be a subject of forbearance and tender pity; and she loved him with +that love resembling a mother’s, which good wives often feel when +they have lost all faith in their husband’s principles, and all +hopes of their affections. Still, she was in heart and soul his +best friend; true to him with a truth which he himself could not shake.</p> +<p>In the verses addressed to his daughter, Lord Byron speaks of her +as</p> +<blockquote><p>‘The child of love, though born in bitterness,<br /> +And nurtured in convulsion.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>A day or two after the birth of this child, Lord Byron came suddenly +into Lady Byron’s room, and told her that her mother was dead. +It was an utter falsehood; but it was only one of the many nameless +injuries and cruelties by which he expressed his hatred of her. +A short time after her confinement, she was informed by him, in a note, +that, as soon as she was able to travel, she must go; that he could +not and would not longer have her about him; and, when her child was +only five weeks old, he carried this threat of expulsion into effect.</p> +<p>Here we will insert briefly Lady Byron’s own account (the only +one she ever gave to the public) of this separation. The circumstances +under which this brief story was written are affecting.</p> +<p>Lord Byron was dead. The whole account between him and her +was closed for ever in this world. Moore’s ‘Life’ +had been prepared, containing simply and solely Lord Byron’s own +version of their story. Moore sent this version to Lady Byron, +and requested to know if she had any remarks to make upon it. +In reply, she sent a brief statement to him,—the first and only +one that had come from her during all the years of the separation, and +which appears to have mainly for its object the exculpation of her father +and mother from the charge, made by the poet, of being the instigators +of the separation.</p> +<p>In this letter, she says, with regard to their separation,—</p> +<p>‘The facts are, I left London for Kirkby Mallory, the residence +of my father and mother, on the 15th of January, 1816. LORD BYRON +HAD SIGNIFIED TO ME IN WRITING, JAN. 6, HIS ABSOLUTE DESIRE THAT I SHOULD +LEAVE LONDON ON THE EARLIEST DAY THAT I COULD CONVENIENTLY FIX. +It was not safe for me to undertake the fatigue of a journey sooner +than the 15th. Previously to my departure, it had been strongly +impressed upon my mind that Lord Byron was under the influence of insanity. +This opinion was derived, in a great measure, from the communications +made me by his nearest relatives and personal attendant, who had more +opportunity than myself for observing him during the latter part of +my stay in town. It was even represented to me that he was in +danger of destroying himself.</p> +<p><i>‘With the concurrence of his family</i>, I had consulted +Dr. Baillie as a friend (Jan. 8) respecting the supposed malady. +On acquainting him with the state of the case, and with Lord Byron’s +desire that I should leave London, Dr. Baillie thought that my absence +might be advisable as an experiment, assuming the fact of mental derangement; +for Dr. Baillie, not having had access to Lord Byron, could not pronounce +a positive opinion on that point. He enjoined that, in correspondence +with Lord Byron, I should avoid all but light and soothing topics. +Under these impressions, I left London, determined to follow the advice +given by Dr. Baillie. Whatever might have been the conduct of +Lord Byron toward me from the time of my marriage, yet, supposing him +to be in a state of mental alienation, it was not for <i>me</i>, nor +for any person of common humanity, to manifest at that moment a sense +of injury.’</p> +<p>Nothing more than this letter from Lady Byron is necessary to substantiate +the fact, that she did not <i>leave</i> her husband, but <i>was driven</i> +from him,—driven from him that he might give himself up to the +guilty infatuation that was consuming him, without being tortured by +her imploring face, and by the silent power of her presence and her +prayers.</p> +<p>For a long time before this, she had seen little of him. On +the day of her departure, she passed by the door of his room, and stopped +to caress his favourite spaniel, which was lying there; and she confessed +to a friend the weakness of feeling a willingness even to be something +as humble as that poor little creature, might she only be allowed to +remain and watch over him. She went into the room where he and +the partner of his sins were sitting together, and said, ‘Byron, +I come to say goodbye,’ offering, at the same time, her hand.</p> +<p>Lord Byron put his hands behind him, retreated to the mantel-piece, +and, looking on the two that stood there, with a sarcastic smile said, +‘When shall we three meet again?’ Lady Byron answered, +‘In heaven, I trust’. And those were her last words +to him on earth.</p> +<p>Now, if the reader wishes to understand the real talents of Lord +Byron for deception and dissimulation, let him read, with this story +in his mind, the ‘Fare thee well,’ which he addressed to +Lady Byron through the printer:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Fare thee well; and if for ever,<br /> + Still for ever fare thee well!<br /> +Even though unforgiving, never<br /> + ’Gainst thee shall my heart rebel.</p> +<p>Would that breast were bared before thee<br /> + Where thy head so oft hath lain,<br /> +While that placid sleep came o’er thee<br /> + Thou canst never know again!</p> +<p>Though my many faults defaced me,<br /> + Could no other arm be found<br /> +Than the one which once embraced me<br /> + To inflict a careless wound?’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The re-action of society against him at the time of the separation +from his wife was something which he had not expected, and for which, +it appears, he was entirely unprepared. It broke up the guilty +intrigue and drove him from England. He had not courage to meet +or endure it. The world, to be sure, was very far from suspecting +what the truth was: but the tide was setting against him with such vehemence +as to make him tremble every hour lest the whole should be known; and +henceforth, it became a warfare of desperation to make his story good, +no matter at whose expense.</p> +<p>He had tact enough to perceive at first that the assumption of the +pathetic and the magnanimous, and general confessions of faults, accompanied +with admissions of his wife’s goodness, would be the best policy +in his case. In this mood, he thus writes to Moore:—</p> +<p>‘The fault was not in my choice (unless in choosing at all); +for I do not believe (and I must say it in the very dregs of all this +bitter business) that there ever was a better, or even a brighter, a +kinder, or a more amiable, agreeable being than Lady Byron. I +never had, nor can have, any reproach to make her while with me. +Where there is blame, it belongs to myself.’</p> +<p>As there must be somewhere a scapegoat to bear the sin of the affair, +Lord Byron wrote a poem called ‘A Sketch,’ in which he lays +the blame of stirring up strife on a friend and former governess of +Lady Byron’s; but in this sketch he introduces the following just +eulogy on Lady Byron:—</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘Foiled was perversion by that +youthful mind<br /> +Which flattery fooled not, baseness could not blind,<br /> +Deceit infect not, near contagion soil,<br /> +Indulgence weaken, nor example spoil,<br /> +Nor mastered science tempt her to look down<br /> +On humbler talents with a pitying frown,<br /> +Nor genius swell, nor beauty render vain,<br /> +Nor envy ruffle to retaliate pain,<br /> +Nor fortune change, pride raise, nor passion bow,<br /> +Nor virtue teach austerity,—till now;<br /> +Serenely purest of her sex that live,<br /> +But wanting one sweet weakness,—to forgive;<br /> +Too shocked at faults her soul can never know,<br /> +She deemed that all could be like her below:<br /> +Foe to all vice, yet hardly Virtue’s friend;<br /> +For Virtue pardons those she would amend.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In leaving England, Lord Byron first went to Switzerland, where he +conceived and in part wrote out the tragedy of ‘Manfred.’ +Moore speaks of his domestic misfortunes, and the sufferings which he +underwent at this time, as having influence in stimulating his genius, +so that he was enabled to write with a greater power.</p> +<p>Anybody who reads the tragedy of ‘Manfred’ with this +story in his mind will see that it is true.</p> +<p>The hero is represented as a gloomy misanthrope, dwelling with impenitent +remorse on the memory of an incestuous passion which has been the destruction +of his sister for this life and the life to come, but which, to the +very last gasp, he despairingly refuses to repent of, even while he +sees the fiends of darkness rising to take possession of his departing +soul. That Byron knew his own guilt well, and judged himself severely, +may be gathered from passages in this poem, which are as powerful as +human language can be made; for instance this part of the ‘incantation,’ +which Moore says was written at this time:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Though thy slumber may be deep,<br /> +Yet thy spirit shall not sleep:<br /> +There are shades which will not vanish;<br /> +There are thoughts thou canst not banish.<br /> +By a power to thee unknown,<br /> +Thou canst never be alone:<br /> +Thou art wrapt as with a shroud;<br /> +Thou art gathered in a cloud;<br /> +And for ever shalt thou dwell<br /> +In the spirit of this spell.</p> +<p> . +. . +.</p> +<p>From thy false tears I did distil<br /> +An essence which had strength to kill;<br /> +From thy own heart I then did wring<br /> +The black blood in its blackest spring;<br /> +From thy own smile I snatched the snake,<br /> +For there it coiled as in a brake;<br /> +From thy own lips I drew the charm<br /> +Which gave all these their chiefest harm:<br /> +In proving every poison known,<br /> +I found the strongest was thine own.</p> +<p>By thy cold breast and serpent smile,<br /> +By thy unfathomed gulfs of guile,<br /> +By that most seeming virtuous eye,<br /> +By thy shut soul’s hypocrisy,<br /> +By the perfection of thine art<br /> +Which passed for human thine own heart,<br /> +By thy delight in other’s pain,<br /> +And by thy brotherhood of Cain,<br /> +I call upon thee, and compel<br /> +Thyself to be thy proper hell!’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Again: he represents Manfred as saying to the old abbot, who seeks +to bring him to repentance,—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Old man, there is no power in holy men,<br /> +Nor charm in prayer, nor purifying form<br /> +Of penitence, nor outward look, nor fast,<br /> +Nor agony, nor greater than all these,<br /> +The innate tortures of that deep despair,<br /> +Which is remorse without the fear of hell,<br /> +But, all in all sufficient to itself,<br /> +Would make a hell of heaven, can exorcise<br /> +From out the unbounded spirit the quick sense<br /> +Of its own sins, wrongs, sufferance, and revenge<br /> +Upon itself: there is no future pang<br /> +Can deal that justice on the self-condemned<br /> +He deals on his own soul.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And when the abbot tells him,</p> +<blockquote><p> ‘All this is well;<br /> +For this will pass away, and be succeeded<br /> +By an auspicious hope, which shall look up<br /> +With calm assurance to that blessed place<br /> +Which all who seek may win, whatever be<br /> +Their earthly errors,’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>he answers,</p> +<blockquote><p>‘It is too late.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Then the old abbot soliloquises:—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘This should have been a noble creature: he<br /> +Hath all the energy which would have made<br /> +A goodly frame of glorious elements,<br /> +Had they been wisely mingled; as it is,<br /> +It is an awful chaos,—light and darkness,<br /> +And mind and dust, and passions and pure thoughts,<br /> +Mixed, and contending without end or order.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The world can easily see, in Moore’s Biography, what, after +this, was the course of Lord Byron’s life; how he went from shame +to shame, and dishonour to dishonour, and used the fortune which his +wife brought him in the manner described in those private letters which +his biographer was left to print. Moore, indeed, says Byron had +made the resolution not to touch his lady’s fortune; but adds, +that it required more self-command than he possessed to carry out so +honourable a purpose.</p> +<p>Lady Byron made but one condition with him. She had him in +her power; and she exacted that the unhappy partner of his sins should +not follow him out of England, and that the ruinous intrigue should +be given up. Her inflexibility on this point kept up that enmity +which was constantly expressing itself in some publication or other, +and which drew her and her private relations with him before the public.</p> +<p>The story of what Lady Byron did with the portion of her fortune +which was reserved to her is a record of noble and skilfully administered +charities. Pitiful and wise and strong, there was no form of human +suffering or sorrow that did not find with her refuge and help. +She gave not only systematically, but also impulsively.</p> +<p>Miss Martineau claims for her the honour of having first invented +practical schools, in which the children of the poor were turned into +agriculturists, artizans, seamstresses, and good wives for poor men. +While she managed with admirable skill and economy permanent institutions +of this sort, she was always ready to relieve suffering in any form. +The fugitive slaves William and Ellen Crafts, escaping to England, were +fostered by her protecting care.</p> +<p>In many cases where there was distress or anxiety from poverty among +those too self-respecting to make their sufferings known, the delicate +hand of Lady Byron ministered to the want with a consideration which +spared the most refined feelings.</p> +<p>As a mother, her course was embarrassed by peculiar trials. +The daughter inherited from the father not only brilliant talents, but +a restlessness and morbid sensibility which might be too surely traced +to the storms and agitations of the period in which she was born. +It was necessary to bring her up in ignorance of the true history of +her mother’s life; and the consequence was that she could not +fully understand that mother.</p> +<p>During her early girlhood, her career was a source of more anxiety +than of comfort. She married a man of fashion, ran a brilliant +course as a gay woman of fashion, and died early of a lingering and +painful disease.</p> +<p>In the silence and shaded retirement of the sick-room, the daughter +came wholly back to her mother’s arms and heart; and it was on +that mother’s bosom that she leaned as she went down into the +dark valley. It was that mother who placed her weak and dying +hand in that of her Almighty Saviour.</p> +<p>To the children left by her daughter, she ministered with the faithfulness +of a guardian angel; and it is owing to her influence that those who +yet remain are among the best and noblest of mankind.</p> +<p>The person whose relations with Byron had been so disastrous, also, +in the latter years of her life, felt Lady Byron’s loving and +ennobling influences, and, in her last sickness and dying hours, looked +to her for consolation and help.</p> +<p>There was an unfortunate child of sin, born with the curse upon her, +over whose wayward nature Lady Byron watched with a mother’s tenderness. +She was the one who could have patience when the patience of every one +else failed; and though her task was a difficult one, from the strange +abnormal propensities to evil in the object of her cares, yet Lady Byron +never faltered, and never gave over, till death took the responsibility +from her hands.</p> +<p>During all this trial, strange to say, her belief that the good in +Lord Byron would finally conquer was unshaken.</p> +<p>To a friend who said to her, ‘Oh! how could you love him?’ +she answered briefly, ‘My dear, there was the angel in him.’ +It is in us all.</p> +<p>It was in this angel that she had faith. It was for the deliverance +of this angel from degradation and shame and sin that she unceasingly +prayed. She read every work that Byron wrote—read it with +a deeper knowledge than any human being but herself could possess. +The ribaldry and the obscenity and the insults with which he strove +to make her ridiculous in the world fell at her pitying feet unheeded.</p> +<p>When he broke away from all this unworthy life to devote himself +to a manly enterprise for the redemption of Greece, she thought that +she saw the beginning of an answer to her prayers. Even although +one of his latest acts concerning her was to repeat to Lady Blessington +the false accusation which made Lady Byron the author of all his errors, +she still had hopes from the one step taken in the right direction.</p> +<p>In the midst of these hopes came the news of his sudden death. +On his death-bed, it is well-known that he called his confidential English +servant to him, and said to him, ‘Go to my sister; tell her—Go +to Lady Byron,—you will see her,—and say’—</p> +<p>Here followed twenty minutes of indistinct mutterings, in which the +names of his wife, daughter, and sister, frequently occurred. +He then said, ‘Now I have told you all.’</p> +<p>‘My lord,’ replied Fletcher, ‘I have not understood +a word your lordship has been saying.’</p> +<p>‘Not understand me!’ exclaimed Lord Byron with a look +of the utmost distress: ‘what a pity! Then it is too late,—all +is over!’ He afterwards, says Moore, tried to utter a few +words, of which none were intelligible except ‘My sister—my +child.’</p> +<p>When Fletcher returned to London, Lady Byron sent for him, and walked +the room in convulsive struggles to repress her tears and sobs, while +she over and over again strove to elicit something from him which should +enlighten her upon what that last message had been; but in vain: the +gates of eternity were shut in her face, and not a word had passed to +tell her if he had repented.</p> +<p>For all that, Lady Byron never doubted his salvation. Ever +before her, during the few remaining years of her widowhood, was the +image of her husband, purified and ennobled, with the shadows of earth +for ever dissipated, the stains of sin for ever removed; ‘the +angel in him,’ as she expressed it, ‘made perfect, according +to its divine ideal.’</p> +<p>Never has more divine strength of faith and love existed in woman. +Out of the depths of her own loving and merciful nature, she gained +such views of the divine love and mercy as made all hopes possible. +There was no soul of whose future Lady Byron despaired,—such was +her boundless faith in the redeeming power of love.</p> +<p>After Byron’s death, the life of this delicate creature—so +frail in body that she seemed always hovering on the brink of the eternal +world, yet so strong in spirit, and so unceasing in her various ministries +of mercy—was a miracle of mingled weakness and strength.</p> +<p>To talk with her seemed to the writer of this sketch the nearest +possible approach to talking with one of the spirits of the just made +perfect.</p> +<p>She was gentle, artless; approachable as a little child; with ready, +outflowing sympathy for the cares and sorrows and interests of all who +approached her; with a <i>naïve</i> and gentle playfulness, that +adorned, without hiding, the breadth and strength of her mind; and, +above all, with a clear, divining, moral discrimination; never mistaking +wrong for right in the slightest shade, yet with a mercifulness that +made allowance for every weakness, and pitied every sin.</p> +<p>There was so much of Christ in her, that to have seen her seemed +to be to have drawn near to heaven. She was one of those few whom +absence cannot estrange from friends; whose mere presence in this world +seems always a help to every generous thought, a strength to every good +purpose, a comfort in every sorrow.</p> +<p>Living so near the confines of the spiritual world, she seemed already +to see into it: hence the words of comfort which she addressed to a +friend who had lost a son:—</p> +<p>‘Dear friend, remember, as long as our loved ones are in <i>God’s</i> +world, they are in <i>ours</i>.’</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>It has been thought by some friends who have read the proof-sheets +of the foregoing that the author should give more specifically her authority +for these statements.</p> +<p>The circumstances which led the writer to England at a certain time +originated a friendship and correspondence with Lady Byron, which was +always regarded as one of the greatest acquisitions of that visit.</p> +<p>On the occasion of a second visit to England, in 1856, the writer +received a note from Lady Byron, indicating that she wished to have +some private, confidential conversation upon important subjects, and +inviting her, for that purpose, to spend a day with her at her country-seat +near London,</p> +<p>The writer went and spent a day with Lady Byron alone; and the object +of the invitation was explained to her. Lady Byron was in such +a state of health, that her physicians had warned her that she had very +little time to live. She was engaged in those duties and retrospections +which every thoughtful person finds necessary, when coming deliberately, +and with open eyes, to the boundaries of this mortal life.</p> +<p>At that time, there was a cheap edition of Byron’s works in +contemplation, intended to bring his writings into circulation among +the masses; and the pathos arising from the story of his domestic misfortunes +was one great means relied on for giving it currency.</p> +<p>Under these circumstances, some of Lady Byron’s friends had +proposed the question to her, <i>whether she had not a responsibility +to society for the truth</i>; whether <i>she did right</i> to allow +these writings to gain influence over the popular mind by giving a silent +consent to what she knew to be utter falsehoods.</p> +<p>Lady Byron’s whole life had been passed in the most heroic +self-abnegation and self-sacrifice: and she had now to consider whether +one more act of self-denial was not required of her before leaving this +world; namely, to declare the absolute truth, no matter at what expense +to her own feelings.</p> +<p>For this reason, it was her desire to recount the whole history to +a person of another country, and entirely out of the sphere of personal +and local feelings which might be supposed to influence those in the +country and station in life where the events really happened, in order +that she might be helped by such a person’s views in making up +an opinion as to her own duty.</p> +<p>The interview had almost the solemnity of a death-bed avowal. +Lady Byron stated the facts which have been embodied in this article, +and gave to the writer a paper containing a brief memorandum of the +whole, with the dates affixed.</p> +<p>We have already spoken of that singular sense of the reality of the +spiritual world which seemed to encompass Lady Byron during the last +part of her life, and which made her words and actions seem more like +those of a blessed being detached from earth than of an ordinary mortal. +All her modes of looking at things, all her motives of action, all her +involuntary exhibitions of emotion, were so high above any common level, +and so entirely regulated by the most unworldly causes, that it would +seem difficult to make the ordinary world understand exactly how the +thing seemed to lie before her mind. What impressed the writer +more strongly than anything else was Lady Byron’s perfect conviction +that her husband was now a redeemed spirit; that he looked back with +pain and shame and regret on all that was unworthy in his past life; +and that, if he could speak or could act in the case, he would desire +to prevent the further circulation of base falsehoods, and of seductive +poetry, which had been made the vehicle of morbid and unworthy passions.</p> +<p>Lady Byron’s experience had led her to apply the powers of +her strong philosophical mind to the study of mental pathology: and +she had become satisfied that the solution of the painful problem which +first occurred to her as a young wife, was, after all, the true one; +namely, that Lord Byron had been one of those unfortunately constituted +persons in whom the balance of nature is so critically hung, that it +is always in danger of dipping towards insanity; and that, in certain +periods of his life, he was so far under the influence of mental disorder +as not to be fully responsible for his actions.</p> +<p>She went over with a brief and clear analysis the history of his +whole life as she had thought it out during the lonely musings of her +widowhood. She dwelt on the ancestral causes that gave him a nature +of exceptional and dangerous susceptibility. She went through +the mismanagements of his childhood, the history of his school-days, +the influence of the ordinary school-course of classical reading on +such a mind as his. She sketched boldly and clearly the internal +life of the young men of the time, as she, with her purer eyes, had +looked through it; and showed how habits, which, with less susceptible +fibre, and coarser strength of nature, were tolerable for his companions, +were deadly to him, unhinging his nervous system, and intensifying the +dangers of ancestral proclivities. Lady Byron expressed the feeling +too, that the Calvinistic theology, as heard in Scotland, had proved +in his case, as it often does in certain minds, a subtle poison. +He never could either disbelieve or become reconciled to it; and the +sore problems it proposes embittered his spirit against Christianity.</p> +<p>‘The worst of it is, I<i> do believe</i>,’ he would often +say with violence, when he had been employing all his powers of reason, +wit, and ridicule upon these subjects.</p> +<p>Through all this sorrowful history was to be seen, not the care of +a slandered woman to make her story good, but the pathetic anxiety of +a mother, who treasures every particle of hope, every intimation of +good, in the son whom she cannot cease to love. With indescribable +resignation, she dwelt on those last hours, those words addressed to +her, never to be understood till repeated in eternity.</p> +<p>But all this she looked upon as for ever past; believing, that, with +the dropping of the earthly life, these morbid impulses and influences +ceased, and that higher nature which he often so beautifully expressed +in his poems became the triumphant one.</p> +<p>While speaking on this subject, her pale ethereal face became luminous +with a heavenly radiance; there was something so sublime in her belief +in the victory of love over evil, that faith with her seemed to have +become sight. She seemed so clearly to perceive the divine ideal +of the man she had loved, and for whose salvation she had been called +to suffer and labour and pray, that all memories of his past unworthiness +fell away, and were lost.</p> +<p>Her love was never the doting fondness of weak women; it was the +appreciative and discriminating love by which a higher nature recognised +god-like capabilities under all the dust and defilement of misuse and +passion: and she never doubted that the love which in her was so strong, +that no injury or insult could shake it, was yet stronger in the God +who made her capable of such a devotion, and that in him it was accompanied +by power to subdue all things to itself.</p> +<p>The writer was so impressed and excited by the whole scene and recital, +that she begged for two or three days to deliberate before forming any +opinion. She took the memorandum with her, returned to London, +and gave a day or two to the consideration of the subject. The +decision which she made was chiefly influenced by her reverence and +affection for Lady Byron. She seemed so frail, she had suffered +so much, she stood at such a height above the comprehension of the coarse +and common world, that the author had a feeling that it would almost +be like violating a shrine to ask her to come forth from the sanctuary +of a silence where she had so long abode, and plead her cause. +She wrote to Lady Byron, that while this act of justice did seem to +be called for, and to be in some respects most desirable, yet, as it +would involve so much that was painful to her, the writer considered +that Lady Byron would be entirely justifiable in leaving the truth to +be disclosed after her death; and recommended that all the facts necessary +should be put in the hands of some person, to be so published.</p> +<p>Years passed on. Lady Byron lingered four years after this +interview, to the wonder of her physicians and all her friends.</p> +<p>After Lady Byron’s death, the writer looked anxiously, hoping +to see a Memoir of the person whom she considered the most remarkable +woman that England has produced in the century. No such Memoir +has appeared on the part of her friends; and the mistress of Lord Byron +has the ear of the public, and is sowing far and wide unworthy slanders, +which are eagerly gathered up and read by an undiscriminating community.</p> +<p>There may be family reasons in England which prevent Lady Byron’s +friends from speaking. But Lady Byron has an American name and +an American existence; and reverence for pure womanhood is, we think, +a national characteristic of the American; and, so far as this country +is concerned, we feel that the public should have this refutation of +the slanders of the Countess Guiccioli’s book.</p> +<h3>LORD LINDSAY’S LETTER TO THE LONDON ‘TIMES.’<br /> +TO THE EDITOR OF ‘THE TIMES.’</h3> +<p>SIR,—I have waited in expectation of a categorical denial of +the horrible charge brought by Mrs. Beecher Stowe against Lord Byron +and his sister on the alleged authority of the late Lady Byron. +Such denial has been only indirectly given by the letter of Messrs. +Wharton and Fords in your impression of yesterday. That letter +is sufficient to prove that Lady Byron never contemplated the use made +of her name, and that her descendants and representatives disclaim any +countenance of Mrs. B. Stowe’s article; but it does not specifically +meet Mrs. Stowe’s allegation, that Lady Byron, in conversing with +her thirteen years ago, affirmed the charge now before us. It +remains open, therefore, to a scandal-loving world, to credit the calumny +through the advantage of this flaw, involuntary, I believe, in the answer +produced against it. My object in addressing you is to supply +that deficiency by proving that what is now stated on Lady Byron’s +supposed authority is at variance, in all respects, with what she stated +immediately after the separation, when everything was fresh in her memory +in relation to the time during which, according to Mrs. B. Stowe, she +believed that Byron and his sister were living together in guilt. +I publish this evidence with reluctance, but in obedience to that higher +obligation of justice to the voiceless and defenceless dead which bids +me break through a reserve that otherwise I should have held sacred. +The Lady Byron of 1818 would, I am certain, have sanctioned my doing +so, had she foreseen the present unparalleled occasion, and the bar +that the conditions of her will present (as I infer from Messrs Wharton +and Fords’ letter) against any fuller communication. Calumnies +such as the present sink deep and with rapidity into the public mind, +and are not easily eradicated. The fame of one of our greatest +poets, and that of the kindest and truest and most constant friend that +Byron ever had, is at stake; and it will not do to wait for revelations +from the fountain-head, which are not promised, and possibly may never +reach us.</p> +<p>The late Lady Anne Barnard, who died in 1825, a contemporary and +friend of Burke, Windham, Dundas, and a host of the wise and good of +that generation, and remembered in letters as the authoress of ‘Auld +Robin Gray,’ had known the late Lady Byron from infancy, and took +a warm interest in her; holding Lord Byron in corresponding repugnance, +not to say prejudice, in consequence of what she believed to be his +harsh and cruel treatment of her young friend. I transcribe the +following passages, and a letter from Lady Byron herself (written in +1818) from <i>ricordi</i>, or private family memoirs, in Lady Anne’s +autograph, now before me. I include the letter, because, although +treating only in general terms of the matter and causes of the separation, +it affords collateral evidence bearing strictly upon the point of the +credibility of the charge now in question:—</p> +<p>‘The separation of Lord and Lady Byron astonished the world, +which believed him a reformed man as to his habits, and a becalmed man +as to his remorses. He had written nothing that appeared after +his marriage till the famous “Fare thee well,” which had +the power of compelling those to pity the writer who were not well aware +that he was not the unhappy person he affected to be. Lady Byron’s +misery was whispered soon after her marriage and his ill usage, but +no word transpired, no sign escaped, from her. She gave birth, +shortly, to a daughter; and when she went, as soon as she was recovered, +on a visit to her father’s, taking her little Ada with her, no +one knew that it was to return to her lord no more. At that period, +a severe fit of illness had confined me to bed for two months. +I heard of Lady Byron’s distress; of the pains he took to give +a harsh impression of her character to the world. I wrote to her, +and entreated her to come and let me see and hear her, if she conceived +my sympathy or counsel could be any comfort to her. She came; +but what a tale was unfolded by this interesting young creature, who +had so fondly hoped to have made a young man of genius and romance (as +she supposed) happy! They had not been an hour in the carriage +which conveyed them from the church, when, breaking into a malignant +sneer, “Oh! what a dupe you have been to your imagination! +How is it possible a woman of your sense could form the wild hope of +reforming <i>me</i>? Many are the tears you will have to shed +ere that plan is accomplished. It is enough for me that you are +my wife for me to hate you! If you were the wife of any other +man, I own you might have charms,” etc. I who listened was +astonished. “How could you go on after this,” said +I, “my dear? Why did you not return to your father’s?” +“Because I had not a conception he was in earnest; because I reckoned +it a bad jest, and told him so,—that my opinions of him were very +different from his of himself, otherwise he would not find me by his +side. He laughed it over when he saw me appear hurt: and I forgot +what had passed, till forced to remember it. I believe he was +pleased with me, too, for a little while. I suppose it had escaped +his memory that I was his wife.” But she described the happiness +they enjoyed to have been unequal and perturbed. Her situation, +in a short time, might have entitled her to some tenderness; but she +made no claim on him for any. He sometimes reproached her for +the motives that had induced her to marry him: all was “vanity, +the vanity of Miss Milbanke carrying the point of reforming Lord Byron! +He always knew <i>her</i> inducements; her pride shut her eyes to <i>his</i>: +<i>he</i> wished to build up his character and his fortunes; both were +somewhat deranged: she had a high name, and would have a fortune worth +his attention,—let her look to that for <i>his</i> motives!”—“O +Byron, Byron!” she said, “how you desolate me!” +He would then accuse himself of being mad, and throw himself on the +ground in a frenzy, which she believed was affected to conceal the coldness +and malignity of his heart,—an affectation which at that time +never failed to meet with the tenderest commiseration. I could +find by some implications, not followed up by me, lest she might have +condemned herself afterwards for her involuntary disclosures, that he +soon attempted to corrupt her principles, both with respect to her own +conduct and her latitude for his. She saw the precipice on which +she stood, and kept his sister with her as much as possible. He +returned in the evenings from the haunts of vice, where he made her +understand he had been, with manners so profligate! “O the +wretch!” said I. “And had he no moments of remorse?” +“Sometimes he appeared to have them. One night, coming home +from one of his lawless parties, he saw me so indignantly collected, +and bearing all with such a determined calmness, that a rush of remorse +seemed to come over him. He called himself a monster, though his +sister was present, and threw himself in agony at my feet. I could +not—no—I could not forgive him such injuries. He had +lost me for ever! Astonished at the return of virtue, my tears, +I believe, flowed over his face, and I said, ‘Byron, all is forgotten: +never, never shall you hear of it more!’ He started up, +and, folding his arms while he looked at me, burst into laughter. +‘What do you mean?’ said I. ‘Only a philosophical +experiment; that’s all,’ said he. ‘I wished +to ascertain the value of your resolutions.’” I need +not say more of this prince of duplicity, except that varied were his +methods of rendering her wretched, even to the last. When her +lovely little child was born, and it was laid beside its mother on the +bed, and he was informed he might see his daughter, after gazing at +it with an exulting smile, this was the ejaculation that broke from +him: “Oh, what an implement of torture have I acquired in you!” +Such he rendered it by his eyes and manner, keeping her in a perpetual +alarm for its safety when in his presence. All this reads madder +than I believe he was: but she had not then made up her mind to disbelieve +his pretended insanity, and conceived it best to intrust her secret +with the excellent Dr. Baillie; telling him all that seemed to regard +the state of her husband’s mind, and letting his advice regulate +her conduct. Baillie doubted of his derangement; but, as he did +not reckon his own opinion infallible, he wished her to take precautions +as if her husband were so. He recommended her going to the country, +but to give him no suspicion of her intentions of remaining there, and, +for a short time, to show no coldness in her letters, till she could +better ascertain his state. She went, regretting, as she told +me, to wear any semblance but the truth. A short time disclosed +the story to the world. He acted the part of a man driven to despair +by her inflexible resentment and by the arts of a governess (once a +servant in the family) who hated him. “I will give you,” +proceeds Lady Anne, “a few paragraphs transcribed from one of +Lady Byron’s own letters to me. It is sorrowful to think, +that, in a very little time, this young and amiable creature, wise, +patient, and feeling, will have her character mistaken by every one +who reads Byron’s works. To rescue her from this, I preserved +her letters; and, when she afterwards expressed a fear that any thing +of her writings should ever fall into hands to injure him (I suppose +she meant by publication), I safely assured her that it never should. +But here this letter shall be placed, a sacred record in her favour, +unknown to herself:—</p> +<p>‘“I am a very incompetent judge of the impression which +the last canto of ‘Childe Harold’ may produce on the minds +of indifferent readers. It contains the usual trace of a conscience +restlessly awake; though his object has been too long to aggravate its +burden, as if it could thus be oppressed into eternal stupor. +I will hope, as you do, that it survives for his ultimate good. +It was the acuteness of his remorse, impenitent in its character, which +so long seemed to demand from my compassion to spare every resemblance +of reproach, every look of grief, which might have said to his conscience, +‘You have made me wretched.’ I am decidedly of opinion +that he <i>is</i> responsible. He has wished to be thought partially +deranged, or on the brink of it, to perplex observers, and prevent them +from tracing effects to their real causes through all the intricacies +of his conduct. I was, as I told you, at one time the dupe of +his acted insanity, and clung to the former delusions in regard to the +motives that concerned me personally, till the whole system was laid +bare. He is the absolute monarch of words, and uses them, as Bonaparte +did lives, for conquest, without more regard to their intrinsic value; +considering them only as ciphers, which must derive all their import +from the situation in which he places them, and the ends to which he +adapts them with such consummate skill. Why, then, you will say, +does he not employ them to give a better colour to his own character? +Because he is too good an actor to over-act, or to assume a moral garb +which it would be easy to strip off. In regard to his poetry, +egotism is the vital principle of his imagination, which it is difficult +for him to kindle on any subject with which his own character and interests +are not identified: but by the introduction of fictitious incidents, +by change of scene or time, he has enveloped his poetical disclosures +in a system impenetrable except to a very few; and his constant desire +of creating a sensation makes him not averse to be the object of wonder +and curiosity, even though accompanied by some dark and vague suspicions. +Nothing has contributed more to the misunderstanding of his real character +than the lonely grandeur in which he shrouds it, and his affectation +of being above mankind, when he exists almost in their voice. +The romance of his sentiments is another feature of this mask of state. +I know no one more habitually destitute of that enthusiasm he so beautifully +expresses, and to which he can work up his fancy chiefly by contagion. +I had heard he was the best of brothers, the most generous of friends; +and I thought such feelings only required to be warmed and cherished +into more diffusive benevolence. Though these opinions are eradicated, +and could never return but with the decay of my memory, you will not +wonder if there are still moments when the association of feelings which +arose from them soften and sadden my thoughts. But I have not +thanked you, dearest Lady Anne, for your kindness in regard to a principal +object,—that of rectifying false impressions. I trust you +understand my wishes, which never were to injure Lord Byron in any way: +for, though he would not suffer me to remain his wife, he cannot prevent +me from continuing his friend; and it was from considering myself as +such that I silenced the accusations by which my own conduct might have +been more fully justified. It is not necessary to speak ill of +his heart in general: it is sufficient that to me it was hard and impenetrable; +that my own must have been broken before his could have been touched. +I would rather represent this as <i>my</i> misfortune than as <i>his</i> +guilt; but surely that misfortune is not to be made my crime! +Such are my feelings: you will judge how to act. His allusions +to me in ‘Childe Harold’ are cruel and cold, but with such +a semblance as to make <i>me</i> appear so, and to attract all sympathy +to himself. It is said in this poem that hatred of him will be +taught as a lesson to his child. I might appeal to all who have +ever heard me speak of him, and still more to my own heart, to witness +that there has been no moment when I have remembered injury otherwise +than affectionately and sorrowfully. It is not my duty to give +way to hopeless and wholly unrequited affection; but, so long as I live, +my chief struggle will probably be not to remember him too kindly. +I do not seek the sympathy of the world; but I wish to be known by those +whose opinion is valuable, and whose kindness is clear to me. +Among such, my dear Lady Anne, you will ever be remembered by your truly +affectionate,</p> +<p> ‘“A. +BYRON.”’</p> +<p>It is the province of your readers, and of the world at large, to +judge between the two testimonies now before them,—Lady Byron’s +in 1816 and 1818, and that put forward in 1869 by Mrs. B. Stowe, as +communicated by Lady Byron thirteen years ago. In the face of +the evidence now given, positive, negative, and circumstantial, there +can be but two alternatives in the case: either Mrs. B. Stowe must have +entirely misunderstood Lady Byron, and been thus led into error and +misstatement; or we must conclude that, under the pressure of a lifelong +and secret sorrow, Lady Byron’s mind had become clouded with an +hallucination in respect of the particular point in question.</p> +<p>The reader will admire the noble but severe character displayed in +Lady Byron’s letter; but those who keep in view what her first +impressions were, as above recorded, may probably place a more lenient +interpretation than hers upon some of the incidents alleged to Byron’s +discredit. I shall conclude with some remarks upon his character, +written shortly after his death by a wise, virtuous, and charitable +judge, the late Sir Walter Scott, likewise in a letter to Lady Anne +Barnard:—</p> +<p>‘Fletcher’s account of poor Byron is extremely interesting. +I had always a strong attachment to that unfortunate though most richly-gifted +man, because I thought I saw that his virtues (and he had many) were +his own; and his eccentricities the result of an irritable temperament, +which sometimes approached nearly to mental disease. Those who +are gifted with strong nerves, a regular temper, and habitual self-command, +are not, perhaps, aware how much of what they may think virtue they +owe to constitution; and such are but too severe judges of men like +Byron, whose mind, like a day of alternate storm and sunshine, is all +dark shades and stray gleams of light, instead of the twilight gray +which illuminates happier though less distinguished mortals. I +always thought, that, when a moral proposition was placed plainly before +Lord Byron, his mind yielded a pleased and willing assent to it; but, +if there was any side view given in the way of raillery or otherwise, +he was willing enough to evade conviction . . . . It augurs ill +for the cause of Greece that this master-spirit should have been withdrawn +from their assistance just as he was obtaining a complete ascendancy +over their counsels. I have seen several letters from the Ionian +Islands, all of which unite in speaking in the highest praise of the +wisdom and temperance of his counsels, and the ascendancy he was obtaining +over the turbulent and ferocious chiefs of the insurgents. I have +some verses written by him on his last birthday: they breathe a spirit +of affection towards his wife, and a desire of dying in battle, which +seems like an anticipation of his approaching fate.’</p> +<p> I +remain, sir, your obedient servant,</p> +<p> LINDSAY.</p> +<p>DUNECHT, Sept. 3.</p> +<h3>DR. FORBES WINSLOW’S LETTER TO THE LONDON ‘TIMES.’</h3> +<p>TO THE EDITOR.</p> +<p>SIR,—Your paper of the 4th of September, containing an able +and deeply interesting ‘Vindication of Lord Byron,’ has +followed me to this place. With the general details of the ‘True +Story’ (as it is termed) of Lady Byron’s separation from +her husband, as recorded in ‘Macmillan’s Magazine,’ +I have no desire or intention to grapple. It is only with the +hypothesis of insanity, as suggested by the clever writer of the ‘Vindication’ +to account for Lady Byron’s sad revelations to Mrs. Beecher Stowe, +with which I propose to deal. I do not believe that the mooted +theory of mental aberration can, in this case, be for a moment maintained. +If Lady Byron’s statement of facts to Mrs. B. Stowe is to be viewed +as the creation of a distempered fancy, a delusion or hallucination +of an insane mind, what part of the narrative are we to draw the boundary-line +between fact and delusion, sanity and insanity? Where are we to +fix the <i>point d’appui</i> of the lunacy? Again: is the +alleged ‘hallucination’ to be considered as strictly confined +to the idea that Lord Byron had committed the frightful sin of incest? +or is the whole of the ‘True Story’ of her married life, +as reproduced with such terrible minuteness by Mrs. Beecher Stowe, to +be viewed as the delusion of a disordered fancy? If Lady Byron +was the subject of an ‘hallucination’ with regard to her +husband, I think it not unreasonable to conclude that the mental alienation +existed on the day of her marriage. If this proposition be accepted, +the natural inference will be, that the details of the conversation +which Lady Byron represents to have occurred between herself and Lord +Byron as soon as they entered the carriage never took place. Lord +Byron is said to have remarked to Lady Byron, ‘You might have +prevented this (or words to this effect): you will now find that you +have married a devil. Is this alleged conversation to be viewed +as <i>fact</i>, or <i>fiction</i>? evidence of <i>sanity</i>, or <i>insanity</i>? +Is the revelation which Lord Byron is said to have made to his wife +of his ‘incestuous passion’ another delusion, having no +foundation except in his wife’s disordered imagination? +Are his alleged attempts to justify to Lady Byron’s mind the <i>morale</i> +of the plea of ‘Continental latitude—the good-humoured marriage, +in which complaisant couples mutually agree to form the cloak for each +other’s infidelities,’—another morbid perversion of +her imagination? Did this conversation ever take place? +It will be difficult to separate one part of the ‘True Story’ +from another, and maintain that this portion indicates insanity, and +that portion represents sanity. If we accept the hypothesis of +hallucination, we are bound to view the whole of Lady Byron’s +conversations with Mrs. B. Stowe, and the written statement laid before +her, as the wild and incoherent representations of a lunatic. +On the day when Lady Byron parted from her husband, did she enter his +private room, and find him with the ‘object of his guilty passion?’ +and did he say, as they parted, ‘When shall we three meet again?’ +Is this to be considered as an actual occurrence, or as another form +of hallucination? It is quite inconsistent with the theory of +Lady Byron’s insanity to imagine that her delusion was restricted +to the idea of his having committed ‘incest.’ In common +fairness, we are bound to view the aggregate mental phenomena which +she exhibited from the day of the marriage to their final separation +and her death. No person practically acquainted with the true +characteristics of insanity would affirm, that, had this idea of ‘incest’ +been an insane hallucination, Lady Byron could, from the lengthened +period which intervened between her unhappy marriage and death, have +refrained from exhibiting her mental alienation, not only to her legal +advisers and trustees, but to others, exacting no pledge of secrecy +from them as to her disordered impressions. Lunatics do for a +time, and for some special purpose, most cunningly conceal their delusions; +but they have not the capacity to struggle for thirty-six years with +a frightful hallucination, similar to the one Lady Byron is alleged +to have had, without the insane state of mind becoming obvious to those +with whom they are daily associating. Neither is it consistent +with experience to suppose that, if Lady Byron had been a monomaniac, +her state of disordered understanding would have been restricted to +one hallucination. Her diseased brain, affecting the normal action +of thought, would, in all probability, have manifested other symptoms +besides those referred to of aberration of intellect.</p> +<p>During the last thirty years, I have not met with a case of insanity +(assuming the hypothesis of hallucination) at all parallel with that +of Lady Byron’s. In my experience, it is unique. I +never saw a patient with such a delusion. If it should be established, +by the statements of those who are the depositors of the secret (and +they are now bound, in vindication of Lord Byron’s memory, to +deny, if they have the power of doing so, this most frightful accusation), +that the idea of incest did unhappily cross Lady Byron’s mind +prior to her finally leaving him, it no doubt arose from a most inaccurate +knowledge of facts and perfectly unjustifiable data, and was not, in +the right psychological acceptation of the phrase, an insane hallucination.</p> +<p> Sir, +I remain your obedient servant,</p> +<p> FORBES +WINSLOW, M.D.</p> +<p>ZARINGERHOF, FREIBURG-EN-BREISGAU, Sept. 8, 1869.</p> +<p> -----</p> +<h3>EXTRACT FROM LORD BYRON’S EXPUNGED LETTER.</h3> +<p>TO MR. MURRAY.</p> +<p> ‘BOLOGNA, +June 7, 1819.</p> +<p>. . . ‘Before I left Venice, I had returned to you your late, +and Mr. Hobhouse’s sheets of “Juan.” Don’t +wait for further answers from me, but address yours to Venice as usual. +I know nothing of my own movements. I may return there in a few +days, or not for some time; all this depends on circumstances. +I left Mr. Hoppner very well. My daughter Allegra is well too, +and is growing pretty: her hair is growing darker, and her eyes are +blue. Her temper and her ways, Mr. Hoppner says, are like mine, +as well as her features: she will make, in that case, a manageable young +lady.</p> +<p>‘I have never seen anything of Ada, the little Electra of my +Mycenae . . . . But there will come a day of reckoning, even if +I should not live to see it. I have at least seen ---- shivered, +who was one of my assassins. When that man was doing his worst +to uproot my whole family,—tree, branch, and blossoms; when, after +taking my retainer, he went over to them; when he was bringing desolation +on my hearth, and destruction on my household gods,—did he think +that, in less than three years, a natural event, a severe domestic, +but an expected and common calamity, would lay his carcass in a cross-road, +or stamp his name in a verdict of lunacy? Did he (who in his sexagenary +. . .) reflect or consider what my feelings must have been when wife +and child and sister, and name and fame and country, were to be my sacrifice +on his legal altar?—and this at a moment when my health was declining, +my fortune embarrassed, and my mind had been shaken by many kinds of +disappointment? while I was yet young, and might have reformed what +might be wrong in my conduct, and retrieved what was perplexing in my +affairs? But he is in his grave, and—What a long letter +I have scribbled!’ . . .</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>In order that the reader may measure the change of moral tone with +regard to Lord Byron, wrought by the constant efforts of himself and +his party, we give the two following extracts from ‘Blackwood:’</p> +<p>The first is ‘Blackwood’ in 1819, just after the publication +of ‘Don Juan:’ the second is ‘Blackwood’ in +1825.</p> +<p>‘In the composition of this work, there is, unquestionably, +a more thorough and intense infusion of genius and vice, power and profligacy, +than in any poem which had ever before been written in the English, +or, indeed, in any other modern language. Had the wickedness been +less inextricably mingled with the beauty and the grace and the strength +of a most inimitable and incomprehensible Muse, our task would have +been easy. ‘Don Juan’ is by far the most admirable +specimen of the mixture of ease, strength, gaiety, and seriousness, +extant in the whole body of English poetry: the author has devoted his +powers to the worst of purposes and passions; and it increases his guilt +and our sorrow that he has devoted them entire.</p> +<p>‘The moral strain of the whole poem is pitched in the lowest +key. Love, honour, patriotism, religion, are mentioned only to +be scoffed at, as if their sole resting-place were, or ought to be, +in the bosoms of fools. It appears, in short, as if this miserable +man, having exhausted every species of sensual gratification, having +drained the cup of sin even to its bitterest dregs, were resolved to +show us that he is no longer a human being, even in his frailties, but +a cool, unconcerned fiend, laughing with a detestable glee over the +whole of the better and worse elements of which human life is composed; +treating well-nigh with equal derision the most pure of virtues, and +the most odious of vices; dead alike to the beauty of the one, and the +deformity of the other; a mere heartless despiser of that frail but +noble humanity, whose type was never exhibited in a shape of more deplorable +degradation than in his own contemptuously distinct delineation of himself. +To confess to his Maker, and weep over in secret agonies the wildest +and most fantastic transgressions of heart and mind, is the part of +a conscious sinner, in whom sin has not become the sole principle of +life and action; but to lay bare to the eye of man and of <i>woman</i> +all the hidden convulsions of a wicked spirit, and to do all this without +one symptom of contrition, remorse, or hesitation, with a calm, careless +ferociousness of contented and satisfied depravity,—this was an +insult which no man of genius had ever before dared to put upon his +Creator or his species. Impiously railing against his God, madly +and meanly disloyal to his sovereign and his country, and brutally outraging +all the best feelings of female honour, affection, and confidence, how +small a part of chivalry is that which remains to the descendant of +the Byrons!—a gloomy visor and a deadly weapon!</p> +<p>‘Those who are acquainted (and who is not?) with the main incidents +in the private life of Lord Byron, and who have not seen this production, +will scarcely believe that malignity should have carried him so far +as to make him commence a filthy and impious poem with an elaborate +satire on the character and manners of his wife, from whom, even by +his own confession, he has been separated only in consequence of his +own cruel and heartless misconduct. It is in vain for Lord Byron +to attempt in any way to justify his own behaviour in that affair; and, +now that he has so openly and audaciously invited inquiry and reproach, +we do not see any good reason why he should not be plainly told so by +the general voice of his countrymen. It would not be an easy matter +to persuade any man who has any knowledge of the nature of woman, that +a female such as Lord Byron has himself described his wife to be would +rashly or hastily or lightly separate herself from the love with which +she had once been inspired for such a man as he is or was. Had +he not heaped insult upon insult, and scorn upon scorn, had he not forced +the iron of his contempt into her very soul, there is no woman of delicacy +and virtue, as he <i>admitted</i> Lady Byron to be, who would not have +hoped all things, and suffered all things, from one, her love of whom +must have been inwoven with so many exalting elements of delicious pride, +and more delicious humility. To offend the love of such a woman +was wrong, but it might be forgiven; to desert her was unmanly, but +he might have returned, and wiped for ever from her eyes the tears of +her desertion: but to injure and to desert, and then to turn back and +wound her widowed privacy with unhallowed strains of cold-blooded mockery, +was brutally, fiendishly, inexpiably mean. For impurities there +might be some possibility of pardon, were they supposed to spring only +from the reckless buoyancy of young blood and fiery passions; for impiety +there might at least be pity, were it visible that the misery of the +impious soul equalled its darkness: but for offences such as this, which +cannot proceed either from the madness of sudden impulse or the bewildered +agonies of doubt, but which speak the wilful and determined spite of +an unrepenting, unsoftened, smiling, sarcastic, joyous sinner, there +can be neither pity nor pardon. Our knowledge that it is committed +by one of the most powerful intellects our island ever has produced +lends intensity a thousand-fold to the bitterness of our indignation. +Every high thought that was ever kindled in our breasts by the Muse +of Byron, every pure and lofty feeling that ever responded from within +us to the sweep of his majestic inspirations, every remembered moment +of admiration and enthusiasm, is up in arms against him. We look +back with a mixture of wrath and scorn to the delight with which we +suffered ourselves to be filled by one, who, all the while he was furnishing +us with delight, must, we cannot doubt it, have been mocking us with +a cruel mockery; less cruel only, because less peculiar, than that with +which he has now turned him from the lurking-place of his selfish and +polluted exile to pour the pitiful chalice of his contumely on the surrendered +devotion of a virgin bosom, and the holy hopes of the mother of his +child. It is indeed a sad and a humiliating thing to know, that +in the same year, there proceeded from the same pen two productions +in all things so different as the fourth canto of “Childe Harold” +and his loathsome “Don Juan.”</p> +<p>‘We have mentioned one, and, all will admit, the worst instance +of the private malignity which has been embodied in so many passages +of “Don Juan;” and we are quite sure the lofty-minded and +virtuous <i>men</i> whom Lord Byron has debased himself by insulting +will close the volume which contains their own injuries, with no feelings +save those of pity for him that has inflicted them, and for her who +partakes so largely in the same injuries.’—<i>August</i>, +1819.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>‘BLACKWOOD,’—<i>iterum</i>.</p> +<p>‘We shall, like all others who say anything about Lord Byron, +begin, <i>sans apologie</i>, with his personal character. This +is the great object of attack, the constant theme of open vituperation +to one set, and the established mark for all the petty but deadly artillery +of sneers, shrugs, groans, to another. Two widely different matters, +however, are generally, we might say universally, mixed up here,—the +personal character of the man, as proved by his course of life; and +his personal character, as revealed in or guessed from his books. +Nothing can be more unfair than the style in which this mixture is made +use of. Is there a noble sentiment, a lofty thought, a sublime +conception, in the book? “Ah, yes!” is the answer. +“But what of that? It is only the <i>roué</i> Byron +that speaks!” Is a kind, a generous action of the man mentioned? +“Yes, yes!” comments the sage; “but only remember +the atrocities of ‘Don Juan:’ depend on it, this, if it +be true, must have been a mere freak of caprice, or perhaps a bit of +vile hypocrisy.” Salvation is thus shut out at either entrance: +the poet damns the man, and the man the poet.</p> +<p>‘Nobody will suspect us of being so absurd as to suppose that +it is possible for people to draw no inferences as to the character +of an author from his book, or to shut entirely out of view, in judging +of a book, that which they may happen to know about the man who writes +it. The cant of the day supposes such things to be practicable; +but they are not. But what we complain of and scorn is the extent +to which they are carried in the case of this particular individual, +as compared with others; the impudence with which things are at once +assumed to be facts in regard to <i>his</i> private history; and the +absolute unfairness of never arguing from <i>his</i> writings to <i>him, +but for evil</i>.</p> +<p>‘Take the man, in the first place, as unconnected, in so far +as we can thus consider him, with his works; and ask, What, after all, +are the bad things we know of him? Was he dishonest or dishonourable? +had he ever <i>done</i> anything to forfeit, or even endanger, his rank +as a gentleman? Most assuredly, no such accusations have ever +been maintained against Lord Byron the private nobleman, although something +of the sort may have been insinuated against the author. “But +he was such a profligate in his morals, that his name cannot be mentioned +with anything like tolerance.” Was he so, indeed? +We should like extremely to have the catechising of the individual man +who says so. That he indulged in sensual vices, to some extent, +is certain, and to be regretted and condemned. But was he worse, +as to such matters, than the enormous majority of those who join in +the cry of horror upon this occasion? We most assuredly believe +exactly the reverse; and we rest our belief upon very plain and intelligible +grounds. First, we hold it impossible that the majority of mankind, +or that anything beyond a very small minority, are or can be entitled +to talk of sensual profligacy as having formed a part of the life and +character of the man, who, dying at six and thirty, bequeathed a collection +of works such as Byron’s to the world. Secondly, we hold +it impossible, that laying the extent of his intellectual labours out +of the question, and looking only to the nature of the intellect which +generated, and delighted in generating, such beautiful and noble conceptions +as are to be found in almost all Lord Byron’s works,—we +hold it impossible that very many men can be at once capable of comprehending +these conceptions, and entitled to consider sensual profligacy as having +formed the principal, or even a principal, trait in Lord Byron’s +character. Thirdly, and lastly, we have never been able to hear +any one fact established which could prove Lord Byron to deserve anything +like the degree or even kind of odium which has, in regard to matters +of this class, been heaped upon his name. We have no story of +base unmanly seduction, or false and villainous intrigue, against him,—none +whatever. It seems to us quite clear, that, if he had been at +all what is called in society an unprincipled sensualist, there must +have been many such stories, authentic and authenticated. But +there are none such,—absolutely none. His name has been +coupled with the names of three, four, or more women of some rank: but +what kind of women? Every one of them, in the first place, about +as old as himself in years, and therefore a great deal older in character; +every one of them utterly battered in reputation long before he came +into contact with them,—licentious, unprincipled, characterless +women. What father has ever reproached him with the ruin of his +daughter? What husband has denounced him as the destroyer of his +peace?</p> +<p>‘Let us not be mistaken. We are not defending the offences +of which Lord Byron unquestionably was guilty; neither are we finding +fault with those, who, after looking honestly within and around themselves, +condemn those offences, no matter how severely: but we are speaking +of society in general as it now exists; and we say that there is vile +hypocrisy in the tone in which Lord Byron is talked of <i>there</i>. +We say, that, although all offences against purity of life are miserable +things, and condemnable things, the degrees of guilt attached to different +offences of this class are as widely different as are the degrees of +guilt between an assault and a murder; and we confess our belief, that +no man of Byron’s station or age could have run much risk in gaining +a very bad name in society, had a course of life similar (in so far +as we know any thing of that) to Lord Byron’s been the only thing +chargeable against him.</p> +<p>‘The last poem he wrote was produced upon his birthday, not +many weeks before he died. We consider it as one of the finest +and most touching effusions of his noble genius. We think he who +reads it, and can ever after bring himself to regard even the worst +transgressions that have been charged against Lord Byron with any feelings +but those of humble sorrow and manly pity, is not deserving of the name +of man. The deep and passionate struggles with the inferior elements +of his nature (and ours) which it records; the lofty thirsting after +purity; the heroic devotion of a soul half weary of life, because unable +to believe in its own powers to live up to what it so intensely felt +to be, and so reverentially honoured as, the right; the whole picture +of this mighty spirit, often darkened, but never sunk,—often erring, +but never ceasing to see and to worship the beauty of virtue; the repentance +of it; the anguish; the aspiration, almost stifled in despair,—the +whole of this is such a whole, that we are sure no man can read these +solemn verses too often; and we recommend them for repetition, as the +best and most conclusive of all possible answers whenever the name of +Byron is insulted by those who permit themselves to forget nothing, +either in his life or in his writings, but the good.’—[1825.]</p> +<h3>LETTERS OF LADY BYRON TO H. C. ROBINSON</h3> +<p>The following letters of Lady Byron’s are reprinted from the +Memoirs of H. C. Robinson. They are given that the reader may +form some judgment of the strength and activity of her mind, and the +elevated class of subjects upon which it habitually dwelt.</p> +<p>LADY BYRON TO H. C. R.</p> +<p> ‘DEC. +31, 1853.</p> +<p>‘DEAR MR. CRABB ROBINSON,—I have an inclination, if I +were not afraid of trespassing on your time (but you can put my letter +by for any leisure moment), to enter upon the history of a character +which I think less appreciated than it ought to be. Men, I observe, +do not understand men in certain points, without a woman’s interpretation. +Those points, of course, relate to feelings.</p> +<p>‘Here is a man taken by most of those who come in his way either +for Dry-as-Dust, Matter-of-fact, or for a “vain visionary.” +There are, doubtless, some defective or excessive characteristics which +give rise to those impressions.</p> +<p>‘My acquaintance was made, oddly enough, with him twenty-seven +years ago. A pauper said to me of him, “He’s the <i>poor +man’s</i> doctor.” Such a recommendation seemed to +me a good one: and I also knew that his organizing head had formed the +first district society in England (for Mrs. Fry told me she could not +have effected it without his aid); yet he has always ignored his own +share of it. I felt in him at once the curious combination of +the Christian and the cynic,—of reverence for <i>man</i>, and +contempt of <i>men</i>. It was then an internal war, but one in +which it was evident to me that the holier cause would be victorious, +because there was deep belief, and, as far as I could learn, a blameless +and benevolent life. He appeared only to want sunshine. +It was a plant which could not be brought to perfection in darkness. +He had begun life by the most painful conflict between filial duty and +conscience,—a large provision in the church secured for him by +his father; but he could not <i>sign</i>. There was discredit, +as you know, attached to such scruples.</p> +<p>‘He was also, when I first knew him, under other circumstances +of a nature to depress him, and to make him feel that he was unjustly +treated. The gradual removal of these called forth his better +nature in thankfulness to God. Still the old misanthropic modes +of expressing himself obtruded themselves at times. This passed +in ‘48 between him and Robertson. Robertson said to me, +“I want to know something about ragged schools.” I +replied, “You had better ask Dr. King: he knows more about them.”—“I?” +said Dr. King. “I take care to know nothing of ragged schools, +lest they should make <i>me</i> ragged.” Robertson did not +see through it. Perhaps I had been taught to understand such suicidal +speeches by my cousin, Lord Melbourne.</p> +<p>‘The example of Christ, imperfectly as it may be understood +by him, has been ever before his eyes: he woke to the thought of following +it, and he went to rest consoled or rebuked by it. After nearly +thirty years of intimacy, I may, without presumption, form that opinion. +There is something pathetic to me in seeing any one <i>so</i> unknown. +Even the other medical friends of Robertson, when I knew that Dr. King +felt a woman’s tenderness, said on one occasion to him, “But +we know that you, Dr. King, are <i>above all feeling</i>.”</p> +<p>‘If I have made the character more consistent to you by putting +in these bits of mosaic, my pen will not have been ill employed, nor +unpleasingly to you.</p> +<p> ‘Yours +truly,</p> +<p> ‘A. +NOEL BYRON.’</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>LADY BYRON TO H. C. R.</p> +<p> ‘BRIGHTON, +NOV. 15,1854.</p> +<p>‘The thoughts of all this public and private suffering have +taken the life out of my pen when I tried to write on matters which +would otherwise have been most interesting to me: <i>these</i> seemed +the shadows, <i>that</i> the stern reality. It is good, however, +to be drawn out of scenes in which one is absorbed most unprofitably, +and to have one’s natural interests revived by such a letter as +I have to thank you for, as well as its predecessor. You touch +upon the very points which do interest me the most, habitually. +The change of form, and enlargement of design, in “The Prospective” +<i>had</i> led me to express to one of the promoters of that object +my desire to contribute. The religious crisis is instant; but +the man for it? The next best thing, if, as I believe, he is not +to be found <i>in England</i>, is an association of such men as are +to edit the new periodical. An address delivered by Freeman Clarke +at Boston, last May, makes me think him better fitted for a leader than +any other of the religious “Free-thinkers.” I wish +I could send you my one copy; but you do not <i>need</i>, it, and others +do. His object is the same as that of the “Alliance Universelle:” +only he is still more free from “partialism” (his own word) +in his aspirations and practical suggestions with respect to an ultimate +“Christian synthesis.” He so far adopts Comte’s +theory as to speak of religion itself under three successive aspects, +historically,—1. Thesis; 2. Antithesis; 3. Synthesis. +I made his acquaintance in England; and he inspired confidence at once +by his brave independence (<i>incomptis capillis</i>) and self-<i>un</i>consciousness. +J. J. Tayler’s address of last month follows in the same path,—all +in favour of the “irenics,” instead of polemics.</p> +<p>‘The answer which you gave me so fully and distinctly to the +questions I proposed for your consideration was of value in turning +to my view certain aspects of the case which I had not before observed. +I had begun a second attack on your patience, when all was forgotten +in the news of the day.’</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>LADY BYRON TO H. C. R.</p> +<p> ‘BRIGHTON, +Dec. 25, 1854.</p> +<p>‘With J. J. Tayler, though almost a stranger to him, I have +a peculiar reason for sympathising. A book of his was a treasure +to my daughter on her death-bed. <a name="citation320a"></a><a href="#footnote320a">{320a}</a></p> +<p>‘I must confess to intolerance of opinion as to these two points,—<i>eternal</i> +evil in any form, and (involved in it) <i>eternal</i> suffering. +To believe in these would take away my God, who is all-loving. +With a God with whom omnipotence and omniscience were all, evil might +be eternal; but why do I say to you what has been better said elsewhere?’</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>LADY BYRON TO H. C. R.</p> +<p> ‘BRIGHTON, +Jan. 31, 1855.</p> +<p>. . . ‘The great difficulty in respect to “The +Review” <a name="citation320b"></a><a href="#footnote320b">{320b}</a> +seems to be to settle a basis, inclusive and exclusive; in short, a +<i>boundary question</i>. From what you said, I think you agreed +with me, that a latitudinarian Christianity ought to be the character +of the periodical; but the depth of the roots should correspond with +the width of the branches of that tree of knowledge. Of some of +those minds one might say, “They have no root;” and then, +the richer the foliage, the more danger that the trunk will fall. +“Grounded in Christ” has to me a most practical significance +and value. I, too, have anxiety about a friend (Miss Carpenter) +whose life is of public importance: she, more than any of the English +reformers, unless Nash and Wright, has found the art of drawing out +the good of human nature, and proving its existence. She makes +these discoveries by the light of love. I hope she may recover, +from to-day’s report. The object of a Reformatory in Leicester +has just been secured at a county meeting . . . . Now the desideratum +is well-qualified masters and mistresses. If you hear of such +by chance, pray let me know. The regular schoolmaster is an extinguisher. +Heart, and familiarity with the class to be educated, are all important. +At home and abroad, the evidence is conclusive on that point; for I +have for many years attended to such experiments in various parts of +Europe. “The Irish Quarterly” has taken up the subject +with rather more zeal than judgment. I had hoped that a sound +and temperate exposition of the facts might form an article in the “Might-have-been +Review.”’</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>LADY BYRON TO H. C. R.</p> +<p> ‘BRIGHTON, +Feb. 12, 1855.</p> +<p>‘I have at last earned the pleasure of writing to you by having +settled troublesome matters of little moment, except locally; and I +gladly take a wider range by sympathizing in your interests. There +is, besides, no responsibility—for me at least—in canvassing +the merits of Russell or Palmerston, but much in deciding whether the +“village politician” Jackson or Thompson shall be leader +in the school or public-house.</p> +<p>‘Has not the nation been brought to a conviction that the <i>system</i> +should be broken up? and is Lord Palmerston, who has used it so long +and so cleverly, likely to promote that object?</p> +<p>‘But, whatever obstacles there may be in state affairs, that +general persuasion must modify other departments of action and knowledge. +“Unroasted coffee” will no longer be accepted under the +official seal,—another reason for a new literary combination for +distinct special objects, a review in which every separate article should +be <i>convergent</i>. If, instead of the problem to make a circle +pass through three given points, it were required to find the centre +from which to describe a circle through any three articles in the “Edinburgh” +or “Westminster Review,” who would accomplish it? +Much force is lost for want of this one-mindedness amongst the contributors. +It would not exclude variety or freedom in the unlimited discussion +of means towards the ends unequivocally recognized. If St. Paul +had edited a review, he might</p> +<p>have admitted Peter as well as Luke or Barnabas . . . .</p> +<p>‘Ross gave us an excellent sermon, yesterday, on “Hallowing +the Name.” Though far from commonplace, it might have been +delivered in any church.</p> +<p>‘We have had Fanny Kemble here last week. I only heard +her “Romeo and Juliet,”—not less instructive, as her +readings always are, than exciting; for in her glass Shakspeare is a +philosopher. I know her, and honour her, for her truthfulness +amidst all trials.’</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>LADY BYRON TO H. C. R.</p> +<p> ‘BRIGHTON, +March 5, 1855.</p> +<p>‘I recollect only those passages of Dr. Kennedy’s book +which bear upon the opinions of Lord Byron. Strange as it may +seem, Dr. Kennedy is most faithful where you doubt his being so. +Not merely from casual expressions, but from the whole tenor of Lord +Byron’s feelings, I could not but conclude he was a believer in +the inspiration of the Bible, and had the gloomiest Calvinistic tenets. +To that unhappy view of the relation of the creature to the Creator, +I have always ascribed the misery of his life . . . . It is enough +for me to remember, that he who thinks his transgressions beyond <i>forgiveness</i> +(and such was his own deepest feeling) <i>has</i> righteousness beyond +that of the self-satisfied sinner, or, perhaps, of the half-awakened. +It was impossible for me to doubt, that, could he have been at once +assured of pardon, his living faith in a moral duty, and love of virtue +(“I love the virtues which I cannot claim”), would have +conquered every temptation. Judge, then, how I must hate the creed +which made him see God as an Avenger, not a Father! My own impressions +were just the reverse, but could have little weight; and it was in vain +to seek to turn his thoughts for long from that <i>idée fixe</i> +with which he connected his physical peculiarity as a stamp. Instead +of being made happier by any apparent good, he felt convinced that every +blessing would be “turned into a curse” to him. Who, +possessed by such ideas, could lead a life of love and service to God +or man? They must, in a measure, realize themselves. “The +worst of it is, I <i>do</i> believe,” he said. I, like all +connected with him, was broken against the rock of predestination. +I may be pardoned for referring to his frequent expression of the sentiment +that I was only sent to show him the happiness he was forbidden to enjoy. +You will now better understand why “The Deformed Transformed” +is too painful to me for discussion. Since writing the above, +I have read Dr. Granville’s letter on the Emperor of Russia, some +passages of which seem applicable to the prepossession I have described. +I will not mix up less serious matters with these, which forty years +have not made less than present still to me.’</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>LADY BYRON TO H. C. R.</p> +<p> ‘BRIGHTON, +April 8, 1855.</p> +<p>. . . . ‘The book which has interested me most, lately, is +that on “Mosaism,” translated by Miss Goldsmid, and which +I read, as you will believe, without any Christian (unchristian?) prejudice. +The missionaries of the Unity were always, from my childhood, regarded +by me as in that sense <i>the</i> people; and I believe they were true +to that mission, though blind, intellectually, in demanding the crucifixion. +The present aspect of Jewish opinions, as shown in that book, is all +but Christian. The author is under the error of taking, as the +representatives of Christianity, the Mystics, Ascetics, and Quietists; +and therefore he does not know how near he is to the true spirit of +the gospel. If you should happen to see Miss Goldsmid, pray tell +her what a great service I think she has rendered to us <i>soi-disant</i> +Christians in translating a book which must make us sensible of the +little we have done, and the much we have to do, to justify our preference +of the later to the earlier dispensation.’ . . .</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>LADY BYRON TO H. C. R.</p> +<p> BRIGHTON, +April 11, 1855.</p> +<p>‘You appear to have more definite information respecting “The +Review” than I have obtained . . . It was also said that +“The Review” would, in fact, be “The Prospective” +amplified,—not satisfactory to me, because I have always thought +that periodical too Unitarian, in the sense of separating itself from +other Christian churches, if not by a high wall, at least by a wire-gauze +fence. Now, separation is to me <i>the</i> αιρεσις. +The revelation through Nature never separates: it is the revelation +through the Book which separates. Whewell and Brewster would have +been one, had they not, I think, equally dimmed their lamps of science +when reading their Bibles. As long as we think a truth <i>better</i> +for being shut up in a text, we are not of the wide-world religion, +which is to include all in one fold: for that text will not be accepted +by the followers of other books, or students of the same; and separation +will ensue. The Christian Scripture should be dear to us, not +as the charter of a few, but of mankind; and to fashion it into cages +is to deny its ultimate objects. These thoughts hot, like the +roll at breakfast, where your letter was so welcome an addition.’</p> +<h3>THREE DOMESTIC POEMS BY LORD BYRON.</h3> +<p>FARE THEE WELL.</p> +<blockquote><p>Fare thee well! and if for ever,<br /> +Still for ever fare thee well!<br /> +Even though unforgiving, never<br /> +’Gainst thee shall my heart rebel.</p> +<p>Would that breast were bared before thee<br /> +Where thy head so oft hath lain,<br /> +While that placid sleep came o’er thee<br /> +Which thou ne’er canst know again!</p> +<p>Would that breast, by thee glanced over,<br /> +Every inmost thought could show!<br /> +Then thou wouldst at last discover<br /> +’Twas not well to spurn it so.</p> +<p>Though the world for this commend thee,<br /> +Though it smile upon the blow,<br /> +Even its praises must offend thee,<br /> +Founded on another’s woe.</p> +<p>Though my many faults defaced me,<br /> +Could no other arm be found,<br /> +Than the one which once embraced me,<br /> +To inflict a cureless wound?</p> +<p>Yet, oh! yet, thyself deceive not:<br /> +Love may sink by slow decay;<br /> +But, by sudden wrench, believe not<br /> +Hearts can thus be torn away:</p> +<p>Still thine own its life retaineth;<br /> +Still must mine, though bleeding, beat<br /> +And the undying thought which paineth<br /> +Is—that we no more may meet.</p> +<p>These are words of deeper sorrow<br /> +Than the wail above the dead:<br /> +Both shall live, but every morrow<br /> +Wake us from a widowed bed.</p> +<p>And when thou wouldst solace gather,<br /> +When our child’s first accents flow,<br /> +Wilt thou teach her to say ‘Father,’<br /> +Though his care she must forego?</p> +<p>When her little hand shall press thee,<br /> +When her lip to thine is pressed,<br /> +Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee;<br /> +Think of him thy love had blessed.</p> +<p>Should her lineaments resemble<br /> +Those thou never more mayst see,<br /> +Then thy heart will softly tremble<br /> +With a pulse yet true to me.</p> +<p>All my faults, perchance, thou knowest;<br /> +All my madness none can know:<br /> +All my hopes, where’er thou goest,<br /> +Wither; yet with thee they go.</p> +<p>Every feeling hath been shaken:<br /> +Pride, which not a world could bow,<br /> +Bows to thee, by thee forsaken;<br /> +Even my soul forsakes me now.</p> +<p>But ’tis done: all words are idle;<br /> +Words from me are vainer still;<br /> +But the thoughts we cannot bridle<br /> +Force their way without the will.</p> +<p>Fare thee well!—thus disunited,<br /> +Torn from every nearer tie,<br /> +Seared in heart, and lone and blighted,<br /> +More than this I scarce can die.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>A SKETCH.</p> +<blockquote><p>Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred;<br /> +Promoted thence to deck her mistress’ head;<br /> +Next—for some gracious service unexpress’d,<br /> +And from its wages only to be guessed—<br /> +Raised from the toilette to the table, where<br /> +Her wondering betters wait behind her chair,<br /> +With eye unmoved, and forehead unabashed,<br /> +She dines from off the plate she lately washed.<br /> +Quick with the tale, and ready with the lie,<br /> +The genial confidante and general spy,<br /> +Who could, ye gods! her next employment guess?—<br /> +An only infant’s earliest governess!<br /> +She taught the child to read, and taught so well,<br /> +That she herself, by teaching, learned to spell.<br /> +An adept next in penmanship she grows,<br /> +As many a nameless slander deftly shows:<br /> +What she had made the pupil of her art,<br /> +None know; but that high soul secured the heart,<br /> +And panted for the truth it could not hear,<br /> +With longing breast and undeluded ear.<br /> +Foiled was perversion by that youthful mind,<br /> +Which flattery fooled not, baseness could not blind,<br /> +Deceit infect not, near contagion soil,<br /> +Indulgence weaken, nor example spoil,<br /> +Nor mastered science tempt her to look down<br /> +On humbler talents with a pitying frown,<br /> +Nor genius swell, nor beauty render vain,<br /> +Nor envy ruffle to retaliate pain,<br /> +Nor fortune change, pride raise, nor passion bow,<br /> +Nor virtue teach austerity, till now.<br /> +Serenely purest of her sex that live;<br /> +But wanting one sweet weakness,—to forgive;<br /> +Too shocked at faults her soul can never know,<br /> +She deems that all could be like her below:<br /> +Foe to all vice, yet hardly Virtue’s friend;<br /> +For Virtue pardons those she would amend.</p> +<p>But to the theme, now laid aside too long,—<br /> +The baleful burthen of this honest song.<br /> +Though all her former functions are no more,<br /> +She rules the circle which she served before.<br /> +If mothers—none know why—before her quake;<br /> +If daughters dread her for the mothers’ sake;<br /> +If early habits—those false links, which bind<br /> +At times the loftiest to the meanest mind—<br /> +Have given her power too deeply to instil<br /> +The angry essence of her deadly will;<br /> +If like a snake she steal within your walls<br /> +Till the black slime betray her as she crawls;<br /> +If like a viper to the heart she wind,<br /> +And leave the venom there she did not find,<br /> +What marvel that this hag of hatred works<br /> +Eternal evil latent as she lurks,<br /> +To make a Pandemonium where she dwells,<br /> +And reign the Hecate of domestic hells?<br /> +Skilled by a touch to deepen scandal’s tints<br /> +With all the kind mendacity of hints,<br /> +While mingling truth with falsehood, sneers with smiles,<br /> +A thread of candour with a web of wiles;<br /> +A plain blunt show of briefly-spoken seeming,<br /> +To hide her bloodless heart’s soul-hardened scheming;<br /> +A lip of lies; a face formed to conceal,<br /> +And, without feeling, mock at all who feel;<br /> +With a vile mask the Gorgon would disown;<br /> +A cheek of parchment, and an eye of stone.<br /> +Mark how the channels of her yellow blood<br /> +Ooze to her skin, and stagnate there to mud!<br /> +Cased like the centipede in saffron mail,<br /> +Or darker greenness of the scorpion’s scale,<br /> +(For drawn from reptiles only may we trace<br /> +Congenial colours in that soul or face,)—<br /> +Look on her features! and behold her mind<br /> +As in a mirror of itself defined.<br /> +Look on the picture! deem it not o’ercharged;<br /> +There is no trait which might not be enlarged:<br /> +Yet true to ‘Nature’s journeymen,’ who made<br /> +This monster when their mistress left off trade,<br /> +This female dog-star of her little sky,<br /> +Where all beneath her influence droop or die.</p> +<p>O wretch without a tear, without a thought,<br /> +Save joy above the ruin thou hast wrought!<br /> +The time shall come, nor long remote, when thou<br /> +Shalt feel far more than thou inflictest now,—<br /> +Feel for thy vile self-loving self in vain,<br /> +And turn thee howling in unpitied pain.<br /> +May the strong curse of crushed affections light<br /> +Back on thy bosom with reflected blight,<br /> +And make thee, in thy leprosy of mind,<br /> +As loathsome to thyself as to mankind,<br /> +Till all thy self-thoughts curdle into hate<br /> +Black as thy will for others would create:<br /> +Till thy hard heart be calcined into dust,<br /> +And thy soul welter in its hideous crust!<br /> +Oh, may thy grave be sleepless as the bed,<br /> +The widowed couch of fire, that thou hast spread!<br /> +Then, when thou fain wouldst weary Heaven with prayer,<br /> +Look on thine earthly victims, and despair!<br /> +Down to the dust! and, as thou rott’st away,<br /> +Even worms shall perish on thy poisonous clay.<br /> +But for the love I bore, and still must bear,<br /> +To her thy malice from all ties would tear,<br /> +Thy name, thy human name, to every eye<br /> +The climax of all scorn, should hang on high,<br /> +Exalted o’er thy less abhorred compeers,<br /> +And festering in the infamy of years.</p> +</blockquote> +<p> </p> +<p>LINES ON HEARING THAT LADY BYRON WAS ILL.</p> +<blockquote><p>And thou wert sad, yet I was not with thee!<br /> + And thou wert sick, and yet I was not near!<br /> +Methought that joy and health alone could be<br /> +Where I was not, and pain and sorrow here.<br /> +And is it thus? It is as I foretold,<br /> +And shall be more so; for the mind recoils<br /> +Upon itself, and the wrecked heart lies cold,<br /> +While heaviness collects the shattered spoils.<br /> +It is not in the storm nor in the strife<br /> +We feel benumbed, and wish to be no more,<br /> +But in the after-silence on the shore,<br /> +When all is lost except a little life.<br /> +I am too well avenged! But ’twas my right:<br /> +Whate’er my sins might be, thou wert not sent<br /> +To be the Nemesis who should requite;<br /> +Nor did Heaven choose so near an instrument.<br /> +Mercy is for the merciful!—if thou<br /> +Hast been of such, ’twill be accorded now.<br /> +Thy nights are banished from the realms of sleep!<br /> +Yes! they may flatter thee; but thou shalt feel<br /> +A hollow agony which will not heal;<br /> +For thou art pillowed on a curse too deep:<br /> +Thou hast sown in my sorrow, and must reap<br /> +The bitter harvest in a woe as real!<br /> +I have had many foes, but none like thee;<br /> +For ’gainst the rest myself I could defend,<br /> +And be avenged, or turn them into friend;<br /> +But thou in safe implacability<br /> +Hadst nought to dread, in thy own weakness shielded;<br /> +And in my love, which hath but too much yielded,<br /> +And spared, for thy sake, some I should not spare.<br /> +And thus upon the world,—trust in thy truth,<br /> +And the wild fame of my ungoverned youth,<br /> +On things that were not and on things that are,—<br /> +Even upon such a basis hast thou built<br /> +A monument, whose cement hath been guilt;<br /> +The moral Clytemnestra of thy lord,<br /> +And hewed down, with an unsuspected sword,<br /> +Fame, peace, and hope, and all the better life,<br /> +Which, but for this cold treason of thy heart,<br /> +Might still have risen from out the grave of strife,<br /> +And found a nobler duty than to part.<br /> +But of thy virtues didst thou make a vice,<br /> +Trafficking with them in a purpose cold,<br /> +For present anger and for future gold,<br /> +And buying others’ grief at any price.<br /> +And thus, once entered into crooked ways,<br /> +The early truth, which was thy proper praise,<br /> +Did not still walk beside thee, but at times,<br /> +And with a breast unknowing its own crimes,<br /> +Deceit, averments incompatible,<br /> +Equivocations, and the thoughts which dwell<br /> +In Janus-spirits; the significant eye<br /> +Which learns to lie with silence; the pretext<br /> +Of prudence, with advantages annexed;<br /> +The acquiescence in all things which tend,<br /> +No matter how, to the desired end,—<br /> +All found a place in thy philosophy.<br /> +The means were worthy, and the end is won:<br /> +I would not do by thee as thou hast done!</p> +</blockquote> +<h2>FOOTNOTES.</h2> +<p><a name="footnote7"></a><a href="#citation7">{7}</a> The italics +are mine.</p> +<p><a name="footnote14"></a><a href="#citation14">{14}</a> The +italics are mine.</p> +<p><a name="footnote16"></a><a href="#citation16">{16}</a> In Lady Blessington’s +‘Memoirs’ this name is given Charlemont; in the late ‘Temple +Bar’ article on the character of Lady Byron it is given Clermont. +I have followed the latter.</p> +<p><a name="footnote17"></a><a href="#citation17">{17}</a> The +italics are mine.</p> +<p><a name="footnote21"></a><a href="#citation21">{21}</a> In Lady Blessington’s +conversations with Lord Byron, just before he went to Greece, she records +that he gave her this poem in manuscript. It was published in +her ‘Journal.’</p> +<p><a name="footnote22a"></a><a href="#citation22a">{22a}</a> Vol. vi. +p.22.</p> +<p><a name="footnote22b"></a><a href="#citation22b">{22b}</a> ‘Byron’s +Miscellany,’ vol. ii. p.358. London, 1853.</p> +<p><a name="footnote23"></a><a href="#citation23">{23}</a> The +italics are mine.</p> +<p><a name="footnote24"></a><a href="#citation24">{24}</a> Lord Byron +says, in his observations on an article in ‘Blackwood:’ +‘I recollect being much hurt by Romilly’s conduct: he (having +a general retainer for me) went over to the adversary, alleging, on +being reminded of his retainer, that he had forgotten it, as his clerk +had so many. I observed that some of those who were now so eagerly +laying the axe to my roof-tree might see their own shaken. His +fell and crushed him.’</p> +<p>In the first edition of Moore’s Life of Lord Byron there was +printed a letter on Sir Samuel Romilly, so brutal that it was suppressed +in the subsequent editions. (See Part III.)</p> +<p><a name="footnote28a"></a><a href="#citation28a">{28a}</a> Vol. iv. +p.40</p> +<p><a name="footnote28b"></a><a href="#citation28b">{28b}</a> Ibid. +p.46.</p> +<p><a name="footnote31"></a><a href="#citation31">{31}</a> The +italics are mine.</p> +<p><a name="footnote41"></a><a href="#citation41">{41}</a> Vol. iv. +p.143.</p> +<p><a name="footnote43"></a><a href="#citation43">{43}</a> Lord Byron +took especial pains to point out to Murray the importance of these two +letters. Vol. V. Letter 443, he says: ‘You must also have +from Mr. Moore the correspondence between me and Lady B., to whom I +offered a sight of all that concerns herself in these papers. +This is important. He has <i>her</i> letter and my answer.’</p> +<p><a name="footnote44"></a><a href="#citation44">{44}</a> ‘And +I, who with them on the cross am placed,<br /> + . +. . +. truly<br /> + My savage wife, more than aught else, doth harm me.’<br /> + +<i>Inferno</i>, Canto, XVI., Longfellow’s translation.</p> +<p><a name="footnote49"></a><a href="#citation49">{49}</a> ‘Conversations,’ +p.108.</p> +<p><a name="footnote51"></a><a href="#citation51">{51}</a> Murray’s +edition of ‘Byron’s Works,’ vol. ii. p.189; date of +dedication to Hobhouse, Jan. 2, 1818.</p> +<p><a name="footnote61"></a><a href="#citation61">{61}</a> Recently, +Lord Lindsay has published another version of this story, which makes +it appear that he has conversed with a lady who conversed with Hobhouse +during his lifetime, in which this story is differently reported. +In the last version, it is made to appear that Hobhouse got this declaration +from Lady Byron herself.</p> +<p><a name="footnote70a"></a><a href="#citation70a">{70a}</a> The references +are to the first volume of the first edition of Moore’s ‘Life,’ +originally published by itself.</p> +<p><a name="footnote70b"></a><a href="#citation70b">{70b}</a> ‘The +officious spies of his privacy,’ p.65O.</p> +<p><a name="footnote72"></a><a href="#citation72">{72}</a> ‘The +deserted husband,’ p.651.</p> +<p><a name="footnote86"></a><a href="#citation86">{86}</a> ‘I +(Campbell) had not time to ask Lady Byron’s permission to print +this private letter; but it seemed to me important, and I have published +it <i>meo periculo</i>.’</p> +<p><a name="footnote95a"></a><a href="#citation95a">{95a}</a> ‘Noctes,’ +July 1822.</p> +<p><a name="footnote95b"></a><a href="#citation95b">{95b}</a> ‘Noctes,’ +September 1832.</p> +<p><a name="footnote105"></a><a href="#citation105">{105}</a> Miss Martineau’s +Biographical Sketches.</p> +<p><a name="footnote113"></a><a href="#citation113">{113}</a> +The italics are mine.—H. B. S.</p> +<p><a name="footnote119"></a><a href="#citation119">{119}</a> In ‘The +Noctes’ of November, 1824 Christopher North says, ‘I don’t +call Medwin a liar. . . . Whether Byron bammed him, or he, by +virtue of his own stupidity, was the sole and sufficient bammifier of +himself, I know not.’ A note says that Murray had been much +shocked by Byron’s misstatements to Medwin as to money-matters +with him. The note goes on to say, ‘Medwin could not have +invented them, for they were mixed up with acknowledged facts; and the +presumption is that Byron mystified his gallant acquaintance. +He was fond of such tricks.’</p> +<p><a name="footnote121"></a><a href="#citation121">{121}</a> This one +fact is, that Lord Byron might have had an open examination in court, +if he had only persisted in refusing the deed of separation.</p> +<p><a name="footnote126"></a><a href="#citation126">{126}</a> In the +history of ‘Blackwood’s Magazine,’ prefaced to the +American edition of 1854, Mackenzie says of the ‘Noctes’ +papers, ‘Great as was their popularity in England it was peculiarly +in America that their high merit and undoubted originality received +the heartiest recognition and appreciation. Nor is this wonderful +when it is considered that for one reader of “Blackwood’s +Magazine” in the old country there cannot be less than fifty in +the new.’</p> +<p><a name="footnote139"></a><a href="#citation139">{139}</a> The reader +is here referred to Lady Byron’s other letters, in Part III.; +which also show the peculiarly active and philosophical character of +her mind, and the class of subjects on which it habitually dwelt.</p> +<p><a name="footnote147"></a><a href="#citation147">{147}</a> See her +character of Dr. King, Part III.</p> +<p><a name="footnote148"></a><a href="#citation148">{148}</a> Alluding +to the financial crisis in the United States in 1857.</p> +<p><a name="footnote149"></a><a href="#citation149">{149}</a> ‘The +Minister’s Wooing.’</p> +<p><a name="footnote150"></a><a href="#citation150">{150}</a> See her +letter on spiritualistic phenomena, Part III.</p> +<p><a name="footnote161"></a><a href="#citation161">{161}</a> This novel +of Godwin’s is a remarkably powerful story. It is related +in the first person by the supposed hero, Caleb Williams. He represents +himself as private secretary to a gentleman of high family named Falkland. +Caleb accidentally discovers that his patron has, in a moment of passion, +committed a murder. Falkland confesses the crime to Caleb, and +tells him that henceforth he shall always suspect him, and keep watch +over him. Caleb finds this watchfulness insupportable, and tries +to escape, but without success. He writes a touching letter to +his patron, imploring him to let him go, and promising never to betray +him. The scene where Falkland refuses this is the most highly +wrought in the book. He says to him, “Do not imagine that +I am afraid of you; I wear an armour against which all your weapons +are impotent. I have dug a pit for you: and whichever way you +move, backward or forward, to the right or the left, it is ready to +swallow you. Be still! If once you fall, call as loud as +you will, no man on earth shall hear your cries: prepare a tale however +plausible or however true, the whole world shall execrate you for an +impostor. Your innocence shall be of no service to you. +I laugh at so feeble a defence. It is I that say it: you may believe +what I tell you. Do you know, miserable wretch!” added he, +stamping on the ground with fury, “that I have sworn to preserve +my reputation, whatever be the expense; that I love it more than the +whole world and its inhabitants taken together? and do you think that +you shall wound it?” The rest of the book shows how this +threat was executed.</p> +<p><a name="footnote168"></a><a href="#citation168">{168}</a> Alluding +to Buchanan’s election.</p> +<p><a name="footnote178a"></a><a href="#citation178a">{178a}</a> Shelton +Mackenzie, in a note to the ‘Noctes’ of July 1822, gives +the following saying of Maginn, one of the principal lights of the club: +‘No man, however much he might tend to civilisation, was to be +regarded as having absolutely reached its apex until he was drunk.’ +He also records it as a further joke of the club, that a man’s +having reached this apex was to be tested by his inability to pronounce +the word ‘civilisation,’ which, he says, after ten o’clock +at night ought to be abridged to <i>civilation</i>, ‘by syncope, +or vigorously speaking by hic-cup.’</p> +<p><a name="footnote178b"></a><a href="#citation178b">{178b}</a> Vol. +v. pp.61, 75.</p> +<p><a name="footnote181"></a><a href="#citation181">{181}</a> +These italics are ours.</p> +<p><a name="footnote190a"></a><a href="#citation190a">{190a}</a> This +little incident shows the characteristic carefulness and accuracy of +Lady Byron’s habits. This statement was written fourteen +years after the events spoken of; but Lady Byron carefully quotes a +passage from her mother’s letter written at that time. This +shows that a copy of Lady Milbanke’s letter had been preserved, +and makes it appear probable that copies of the whole correspondence +of that period were also kept. Great light could be thrown on +the whole transaction, could these documents be consulted.</p> +<p><a name="footnote190b"></a><a href="#citation190b">{190b}</a> Here, +again, Lady Byron’s sealed papers might furnish light. The +letters addressed to her at this time by those in constant intercourse +with Lord Byron are doubtless preserved, and would show her ground of +action.</p> +<p><a name="footnote192"></a><a href="#citation192">{192}</a> Probably +Lady Milbanke’s letters are among the sealed papers, and would +more fully explain the situation.</p> +<p><a name="footnote205a"></a><a href="#citation205a">{205a}</a> Hunt’s +Byron, p.77. Philadelphia, 1828.</p> +<p><a name="footnote205b"></a><a href="#citation205b">{205b}</a> From +the Temple Bar article, October 1869. ‘Mrs. Leigh, Lord +Byron’s sister, had other thoughts of Mrs. Clermont, and wrote +to her offering public testimony to her tenderness and forbearance under +circumstances which must have been trying to any friend of Lady Byron.’—<i>Campbell, +in the New Monthly Magazine</i>, 183O, p.38O.</p> +<p><a name="footnote219"></a><a href="#citation219">{219}</a> ‘My +Recollections,’ p.238.</p> +<p><a name="footnote225"></a><a href="#citation225">{225}</a> Vol. vi. +p.242.</p> +<p><a name="footnote227"></a><a href="#citation227">{227}</a> The reader +is here referred to the remarks of ‘Blackwood’ on ‘Don +Juan’ in Part III.</p> +<p><a name="footnote258"></a><a href="#citation258">{258}</a> The article +in question is worth a careful reading. Its industry and accuracy +in amassing evidence are worthy attention.</p> +<p><a name="footnote320a"></a><a href="#citation320a">{320a}</a> Probably +‘The Christian Aspects of Faith and Duty.’ Mr. Tayler +has also written ‘A Retrospect of the Religious Life of England.’</p> +<p><a name="footnote320b"></a><a href="#citation320b">{320b}</a> ‘The +National Review.’</p> +<p> </p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LADY BYRON VINDICATED***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 14061-h.htm or 14061-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/0/6/14061 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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