LADY BYRON VINDICATEDBY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 

A history of the Byron Controversy from its beginning in 1816 to thepresent time. 

NOTE BY THE PUBLISHERS. 

The subject of this volume is of such painful notoriety that any apologyfrom the Publishers may seem unnecessary upon issuing the Author's replyto the counter statements which her narrative in Macmillan's Magazine hascalled forth. Nevertheless they consider it right to state that theirstrong regard for the Author, respect for her motives, and assurance ofher truthfulness, would, even in the absence of all other considerations, be sufficient to induce them to place their imprint on the title-page. 

The publication has been undertaken by them at the Author's request, 'asher friends, ' and as the publishers of her former works, and from afeeling that whatever difference of opinion may be entertained respectingthe Author's judiciousness in publishing 'The True Story, ' she isentitled to defend it, having been treated with grave injustice, andoften with much maliciousness, by her critics and opponents, and beencharged with motives from which no person living is more free. Anintense love of justice and hatred of oppression, with an utter disregardof her own interests, characterise Mrs. Stowe's conduct and writings, asall who know her well will testify; and the Publishers can unhesitatinglyaffirm their belief that neither fear for loss of her literary fame, norhope of gain, has for one moment influenced her in the course she hastaken. 

 LONDON: January 1870. 

CONTENTS. 

PART I. 

CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTIONCHAPTER II. THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRONCHAPTER III. RESUME OF THE CONSPIRACYCHAPTER IV. RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON'S DEATHCHAPTER V. THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON'S GRAVE

PART II. 

CHAPTER I. LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HERCHAPTER II. LADY BYRON'S STORY AS TOLD MECHAPTER III. CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTSCHAPTER IV. THE CHARACTER OF THE TWO WITNESSES COMPAREDCHAPTER V. THE DIRECT ARGUMENT TO PROVE THE CRIMECHAPTER VI. PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENTCHAPTER VII. HOW COULD SHE LOVE HIM?CHAPTER VIII. CONCLUSION

PART III. MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

THE TRUE STORY OF LADY BYRON'S LIFE (AS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN 'THEATLANTIC MONTHLY')LORD LINDSAY'S LETTER TO 'THE LONDON TIMES'DR. FORBES WINSLOW'S LETTER TO 'THE LONDON TIMES'EXTRACT FROM LORD BYRON'S EXPUNGED LETTER TO MURRAYEXTRACTS FROM 'BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE'LETTERS OF LADY BYRON TO H. C. ROBINSONDOMESTIC POEMS BY LORD BYRON

PART I. 

CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION. 

The interval since my publication of 'The True Story of Lady Byron'sLife' has been one of stormy discussion and of much invective. 

I have not thought it necessary to disturb my spirit and confuse my senseof right by even an attempt at reading the many abusive articles thatboth here and in England have followed that disclosure. Friends haveundertaken the task for me, giving me from time to time the substance ofanything really worthy of attention which came to view in the tumult. 

It appeared to me essential that this first excitement should in ameasure spend itself before there would be a possibility of speaking toany 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 apropriety in listening calmly, if that be possible, to what I have to sayin reply. 

And, first, why have I made this disclosure at all?

_To this I answer briefly, Because I considered it my duty to make it_. 

I made it in defence of a beloved, revered friend, whose memory stoodforth in the eyes of the civilised world charged with most repulsivecrimes, of which I _certainly_ knew her innocent. 

I claim, and shall prove, that Lady Byron's reputation has been thevictim of a concerted attack, begun by her husband during her lifetime, and coming to its climax over her grave. I claim, and shall prove, thatit was not I who stirred up this controversy in this year 1869. I shallshow _who did do it_, and who is responsible for bringing on me that hardduty of making these disclosures, which it appears to me ought to havebeen made by others. 

I claim that these facts were given to me unguarded by any promise orseal of secrecy, expressed or implied; that they were lodged with me asone sister rests her story with another for sympathy, for counsel, fordefence. _Never_ did I suppose the day would come that I should besubjected 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 nothingbut blessings, were lying in the helplessness of death, when that gentleheart, so sorely tried and to the last so full of love, was lying cold inthe tomb, --a countryman in England could be found to cast the foulestslanders on her grave, and not one in all England to raise an effectivevoice in her defence. 

I admit the feebleness of my plea, in point of execution. It was writtenin a state of exhausted health, when no labour of the kind was safe forme, --when my hand had not strength to hold the pen, and I was forced todictate to another. 

I have been told that I have no reason to congratulate myself on it as aliterary effort. O my brothers and sisters! is there then nothing in theworld to think of but literary efforts? I ask any man with a heart inhis bosom, if he had been obliged to tell a story so cruel, because hismother's grave gave no rest from slander, --I ask any woman who had beenforced to such a disclosure to free a dead sister's name from grossestinsults, whether she would have thought of making this work of bitternessa literary success?

Are the cries of the oppressed, the gasps of the dying, the last prayersof mothers, --are _any_ words wrung like drops of blood from the humanheart to be judged as literary efforts?

My fellow-countrymen of America, men of the press, I have done you oneact of justice, --of all your bitter articles, I have read not one. Ishall never be troubled in the future time by the remembrance of anyunkind 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 atfirst astonished and incredulous at what I heard of the course of theAmerican press, and was silent, not merely from the impossibility ofbeing heard, but from grief and shame. But reflection convinces me thatyou were, in many cases, acting from a misunderstanding of facts andthrough misguided honourable feeling; and I still feel courage, therefore, to ask from you a fair hearing. Now, as I have done you thisjustice, will you also do me the justice to hear me seriously andcandidly?

What interest have you or I, my brother and my sister, in this short lifeof ours, to utter anything but the truth? Is not truth between man andman and between man and woman the foundation on which all things rest?Have you not, every individual of you, who must hereafter give an accountyourself alone to God, an interest to know the exact truth in thismatter, 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 inrelation to it. 

A shameless attack on my friend's memory had appeared in the 'Blackwood'of July 1869, branding Lady Byron as the vilest of criminals, andrecommending the Guiccioli book to a Christian public as interesting fromthe very fact that it was the avowed production of Lord Byron's mistress. No efficient protest was made against this outrage in England, andLittell's 'Living Age' reprinted the 'Blackwood' article, and theHarpers, the largest publishing house in America, perhaps in the world, re-published the book. 

Its statements--with those of the 'Blackwood, ' 'Pall Mall Gazette, ' andother English periodicals--were being propagated through all the youngreading and writing world of America. I was meeting them advertised indailies, and made up into articles in magazines, and thus the generationof to-day, who had no means of judging Lady Byron but by these fables ofher slanderers, were being foully deceived. The friends who knew herpersonally were a small select circle in England, whom death is every dayreducing. They were few in number compared with the great world, andwere _silent_. I saw these foul slanders crystallising into historyuncontradicted by friends who knew her personally, who, firm in their ownknowledge of her virtues and limited in view as aristocratic circlesgenerally 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 wasraised, I spoke. I gave at first a simple story, for I knewinstinctively that whoever put the first steel point of truth into thisdark cloud of slander must wait for the storm to spend itself. I mustsay the storm exceeded my expectations, and has raged loud and long. Butnow that there is a comparative stillness I shall proceed, first, toprove what I have just been asserting, and, second, to add to my truestory such facts and incidents as I did not think proper at first tostate. 

CHAPTER II. THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

In proving what I asserted in the first chapter, I make four points:

1st. A concerted attack upon Lady Byron's reputation, begun by LordByron in self-defence. 

2nd. That he transmitted his story to friends to be continued after hisdeath. 

3rd. That they did so continue it. 

4th. That the accusations reached their climax over Lady Byron's gravein 'Blackwood' of 1869, and the Guiccioli book, and that this re-openingof the controversy was my reason for speaking. 

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 aconcentrated, artfully planned attack, commencing at the time of theseparation and continuing during his life. By various documentscarefully prepared, and used publicly or secretly as suited the case, hemade converts of many honest men, some of whom were writers and men ofletters, who put their talents at his service during his lifetime inexciting sympathy for him, and who, by his own request, felt bound tocontinue their defence of him after he was dead. 

In order to consider the force and significance of the documents I shallcite, 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. 

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 ofgreat excitement on account of an article in 'Blackwood, ' in which hisconduct towards his wife had been sternly and justly commented on, andwhich he supposed to have been written by Wilson, of the 'NoctesAmbrosianae. ' He says in this letter: 'I like and admire W---n, and heshould not have indulged himself in such outrageous license. . . . . Whenhe talks of Lady Byron's business he talks of what he knows nothingabout; and you may tell him _no man can desire a public investigation ofthat affair more than I do_. ' {7}

He shortly after wrote and sent to Murray a pamphlet for publication, which was printed, but not generally circulated till some timeafterwards. Though more than three years had elapsed since theseparation, the current against him at this time was so strong in Englandthat his friends thought it best, at first, to use this article of LordByron's discreetly with influential persons rather than to give it to thepublic. 

The writer in 'Blackwood' and the indignation of the English public, ofwhich that writer was the voice, were now particularly stirred up by theappearance of the first two cantos of 'Don Juan, ' in which the indecentcaricature of Lady Byron was placed in vicinity with other indecencies, the publication of which was justly considered an insult to a Christiancommunity. 

It must here be mentioned, for the honour of Old England, that at firstshe did her duty quite respectably in regard to 'Don Juan. ' One canstill read, in Murray's standard edition of the poems, how everyrespectable press thundered reprobations, which it would be well enoughto print and circulate as tracts for our days. 

Byron, it seems, had thought of returning to England, but he says, in theletter we have quoted, that he has changed his mind, and shall not goback, adding 'I have finished the Third Canto of "Don Juan, " but thethings I have heard and read discourage all future publication. You maytry the copy question, but you'll lose it; the cry is up, and the cant isup. I should have no objection to return the price of the copyright, andhave written to Mr. Kinnaird on this subject. '

One sentence quoted by Lord Byron from the 'Blackwood' article will showthe modern readers what the respectable world of that day were thinkingand saying of him:--

 '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. '

The defence which Lord Byron makes, in his reply to that paper, is of aman cornered and fighting for his life. He speaks thus of the state offeeling at the time of his separation from his wife:--

 '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. 

 '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. '

Now Lord Byron's charge against his wife was that SHE was directlyresponsible for getting up and keeping up this persecution, which drovehim from England, --that she did it in a deceitful, treacherous manner, which left him no chance of defending himself. 

He charged against her that, taking advantage of a time when his affairswere in confusion, and an execution in the house, she left him suddenly, with treacherous professions of kindness, which were repeated by letterson the road, and that soon after her arrival at her home her parents senthim word that she would never return to him, and she confirmed themessage; that when he asked the reason why, she refused to state any; andthat when this step gave rise to a host of slanders against him shesilently encouraged and confirmed the slanders. His claim was that hewas denied from that time forth even the justice of any tangibleaccusation against himself which he might meet and refute. 

He observes, in the same article from which we have quoted:--

 '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. '

Lord Byron, his publishers, friends, and biographers, thus agree inrepresenting his wife as the secret author and abettor of thatpersecution, which it is claimed broke up his life, and was the source ofall his subsequent crimes and excesses. 

Lord Byron wrote a poem in September 1816, in Switzerland, just after theseparation, in which he stated, in so many words, these accusationsagainst his wife. Shortly after the poet's death Murray published thispoem, together with the 'Fare thee well, ' and the lines to his sister, under the title of 'Domestic Pieces, ' in his standard edition of Byron'spoetry. It is to be remarked, then, that this was for some time aprivate document, shown to confidential friends, and made use ofjudiciously, as readers or listeners to his story were able to bear it. Lady Byron then had a strong party in England. Sir Samuel Romilly andDr. Lushington were her counsel. Lady Byron's parents were living, andthe appearance in the public prints of such a piece as this would havebrought down an aggravated storm of public indignation. 

For the general public such documents as the 'Fare thee well' werecirculating in England, and he frankly confessed his wife's virtues andhis own sins to Madame de Stael and others in Switzerland, declaringhimself in the wrong, sensible of his errors, and longing to cast himselfat the feet of that serene perfection, 'Which wanted one sweet weakness--to forgive. '

But a little later he drew for his private partisans this bitter poeticalindictment against her, which, as we have said, was used discreetlyduring his life, and published after his death. 

Before we proceed to lay that poem before the reader we will refresh hismemory with some particulars of the tragedy of AEschylus, which LordByron selected as the exact parallel and proper illustration of hiswife's treatment of himself. In his letters and journals he oftenalludes to her as Clytemnestra, and the allusion has run the round of athousand American papers lately, and been read by a thousand good honestpeople, who had no very clear idea who Clytemnestra was, and what she didwhich was like the proceedings of Lady Byron. According to the tragedy, Clytemnestra secretly hates her husband Agamemnon, whom she professes tolove, and wishes to put him out of the way that she may marry her lover, AEgistheus. When her husband returns from the Trojan war she receiveshim with pretended kindness, and officiously offers to serve him at thebath. Inducing him to put on a garment, of which she had adroitly sewedup the sleeves and neck so as to hamper the use of his arms, she givesthe signal to a concealed band of assassins, who rush upon him and stabhim. Clytemnestra is represented by AEschylus as grimly triumphing inher success, which leaves her free to marry an adulterous paramour. 

 'I did it, too, in such a cunning wise, That he could neither 'scape nor ward off doom. I staked around his steps an endless net, As for the fishes. '

In the piece entitled 'Lines on hearing Lady Byron is ill, ' Lord Byroncharges on his wife a similar treachery and cruelty. The whole poem isin Murray's English edition, Vol. IV. P. 207. Of it we quote thefollowing. The reader will bear in mind that it is addressed to LadyByron on a sick-bed:--

 'I am too well avenged, but 't was my right; Whate'er my sins might be, _thou_ wert not sent To be the Nemesis that should requite, Nor did Heaven choose so near an instrument. Mercy is for the merciful! If thou Hast been of such, 't will be accorded now. Thy nights are banished from the realms of sleep, For thou art pillowed on a curse too deep; Yes! they may flatter thee, but thou shalt feel A hollow agony that will not heal. Thou hast sown in my sorrow, and must reap The bitter harvest in a woe as real. _I have had many foes, but none like thee_; For 'gainst the rest myself I could defend, And be avenged, or turn them into friend; But thou, in safe implacability, Hast naught to dread, --in thy own weakness shielded, And in my love, which hath but too much yielded, And spared, for thy sake, some I should not spare. And thus upon the world, trust in thy truth, And the wild fame of my ungoverned youth, -- On things that were not and on things that are, -- Even upon such a basis thou halt built A monument whose cement hath been guilt! The moral Clytemnestra of thy lord, And hewed down with an unsuspected sword Fame, peace, and hope, and all that better life Which, but for this cold treason of thy heart, Might yet have risen from the grave of strife And found a nobler duty than to part. But of thy virtues thou didst make a vice, Trafficking in them with a purpose cold, And buying others' woes at any price, For present anger and for future gold; And thus, once entered into crooked ways, The early truth, that was thy proper praise, Did not still walk beside thee, but at times, And with a breast unknowing its own crimes, Deceits, averments incompatible, Equivocations, and the thoughts that dwell _In Janus spirits, the significant eye That learns to lie with silence_, {14} the pretext Of prudence with advantages annexed, The acquiescence in all things that tend, No matter how, to the desired end, -- All found a place in thy philosophy. The means were worthy and the end is won. I would not do to thee as thou hast done. '

Now, if this language means anything, it means, in plain terms, that, whereas, in her early days, Lady Byron was peculiarly characterised bytruthfulness, she has in her recent dealings with him acted the part of aliar, --that she is not only a liar, but that she lies for cruel means andmalignant purposes, --that she is a moral assassin, and her treatment ofher husband has been like that of the most detestable murderess andadulteress of ancient history, that she has learned to lie skilfully andartfully, that she equivocates, says incompatible things, and crosses herown tracks, --that she is double-faced, and has the art to lie even bysilence, and that she has become wholly unscrupulous, and acquiesces in_any_thing, no matter what, that tends to the desired end, and that endthe destruction of her husband. This is a brief summary of the storythat Byron made it his life's business to spread through society, topropagate and make converts to during his life, and which has been insubstance reasserted by 'Blackwood' in a recent article this year. 

Now, the reader will please to notice that this poem is dated inSeptember 1816, and that on the 29th of March of that same year, he hadthought proper to tell quite another story. At that time the deed ofseparation was not signed, and negotiations between Lady Byron, acting bylegal 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 ofhis wife's character, who were in an aroused and excited state by thefact that so lovely and good and patient a woman had actually been forcedfor some unexplained cause to leave him. His policy at that time was tomake large general confessions of sin, and to praise and compliment her, with a view of enlisting sympathy. Everybody feels for a handsomesinner, weeping on his knees, asking pardon for his offences against hiswife in the public newspapers. 

The celebrated 'Fare thee well, ' as we are told, was written on the 17thof 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 marvellousconvenience to Lord Byron. 

But the question met him on all sides, What is the matter? This wife youhave declared the brightest, sweetest, most amiable of beings, andagainst whose behaviour as a wife you actually never had nor can have acomplaint to make, --why is she _now_ all of a sudden so inflexibly setagainst you?

This question required an answer, and he answered by writing anotherpoem, which also _accidentally_ found its way into the public prints. Itis in his 'Domestic Pieces, ' which the reader may refer to at the end ofthis volume, and is called 'A Sketch. '

There was a most excellent, respectable, well-behaved Englishwoman, aMrs. Clermont, {16} who had been Lady Byron's governess in her youth, andwas still, in mature life, revered as her confidential friend. Itappears that this person had been with Lady Byron during a part of hermarried life, especially the bitter hours of her lonely child-bed, when ayoung wife so much needs a sympathetic friend. This Mrs. Clermont wasthe person selected by Lord Byron at this time to be the scapegoat tobear away the difficulties of the case into the wilderness. 

We are informed in Moore's Life what a noble pride of rank Lord Byronpossessed, and how when the headmaster of a school, against whom he had apique, invited him to dinner, he declined, saying, 'To tell you thetruth, Doctor, if you should come to Newstead, I shouldn't think ofinviting _you_ to dine with _me_, and so I don't care to dine with youhere. ' Different countries, it appears, have different standards as togood taste; Moore gives this as an amusing instance of a young lord'sspirit. 

Accordingly, his first attack against this 'lady, ' as we Americans shouldcall her, consists in gross statements concerning her having been bornpoor and in an inferior rank. He begins by stating that she was

 'Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred, Promoted thence to deck her mistress' head; Next--for some gracious service unexpressed And from its wages only to be guessed-- Raised from the toilet to the table, where Her wondering betters wait behind her chair. With eye unmoved and forehead unabashed, She dines from off the plate she lately washed: Quick with the tale, and ready with the lie, The genial confidante and general spy, -- Who could, ye gods! her next employment guess, -- An _only infant's earliest governess_! What had she made the pupil of her art None knows; _but that high soul secured the heart, And panted for the truth it could not hear With longing soul and undeluded ear_!' {17}

The poet here recognises as a singular trait in Lady Byron her peculiarlove of truth, --a trait which must have struck everyone that had anyknowledge of her through life. He goes on now to give what he certainlyknew to be the real character of Lady Byron:--

 'Foiled was perversion by that youthful mind, Which flattery fooled not, baseness could not blind, _Deceit infect_ not, nor contagion soil, Indulgence weaken, or example spoil, Nor mastered science tempt her to look down On humbler talent with a pitying frown, Nor genius swell, nor beauty render vain, Nor envy ruffle to retaliate pain. '

We are now informed that Mrs. Clermont, whom he afterwards says in hisletters was a spy of Lady Byron's mother, set herself to make mischiefbetween them. He says:--

 'If early habits, --those strong links that bind At times the loftiest to the meanest mind, Have given her power too deeply to instil The angry essence of her deadly will; If like a snake she steal within your walls, Till the black slime betray her as she crawls; If like a viper to the heart she wind, And leaves the venom there she did not find, -- What marvel that this hag of hatred works Eternal evil latent as she lurks. '

The noble lord then proceeds to abuse this woman of inferior rank in thelanguage of the upper circles. He thus describes her person and manner:--

 'Skilled by a touch to deepen scandal's tints With all the kind mendacity of hints, While mingling truth with falsehood, sneers with smiles, A thread of candour with a web of wiles; A plain blunt show of briefly-spoken seeming, To hide her bloodless heart's soul-harden'd scheming; A lip of lies; a face formed to conceal, And without feeling mock at all who feel; With a vile mask the Gorgon would disown, -- A cheek of parchment and an eye of stone. Mark how the channels of her yellow blood Ooze to her skin and stagnate there to mud, Cased like the centipede in saffron mail, Or darker greenness of the scorpion's scale, -- (For drawn from reptiles only may we trace Congenial colours in that soul or face, ) Look on her features! and behold her mind As in a mirror of itself defined: Look on the picture! deem it not o'ercharged There is no trait which might not be enlarged. '

The poem thus ends:--

 'May the strong curse of crushed affections light Back on thy bosom with reflected blight, And make thee in thy leprosy of mind As loathsome to thyself as to mankind! Till all thy self-thoughts curdle into hate, Black--as thy will for others would create; Till thy hard heart be calcined into dust, And thy soul welter in its hideous crust. O, may thy grave be sleepless as the bed, The widowed couch of fire, that thou hast spread Then when thou fain wouldst weary Heaven with prayer, Look on thy earthly victims--and despair! Down to the dust! and as thou rott'st away, Even worms shall perish on thy poisonous clay. _But for the love I bore and still must bear_ To her thy malice from all ties would tear, Thy name, --thy human name, --to every eye The climax of all scorn, should hang on high, Exalted o'er thy less abhorred compeers, And festering in the infamy of years. ' March 16, 1816. 

Now, on the 29th of March 1816, this was Lord Byron's story. He statesthat his wife had a truthfulness even from early girlhood that the mostartful and unscrupulous governess could not pollute, --that she always_panted_ for truth, --that flattery could not fool nor baseness blindher, --that though she was a genius and master of science, she was yetgentle and tolerant, and one whom no envy could ruffle to retaliate pain. 

In September of the same year she is a monster of unscrupulous deceit andvindictive cruelty. Now, what had happened in the five months betweenthe dates of these poems to produce such a change of opinion? Simplythis:--

1st. The negotiation between him and his wife's lawyers had ended in hissigning a deed of separation in preference to standing a suit fordivorce. 

2nd. Madame de Stael, moved by his tears of anguish and professions ofrepentance, had offered to negotiate with Lady Byron on his behalf, andhad failed. 

The failure of this application is the only apology given by Moore andMurray for this poem, which gentle Thomas Moore admits was not in quiteas generous a strain as the 'Fare thee well. '

But Lord Byron knew perfectly well, when he suffered that application tobe made, that Lady Byron had been entirely convinced that her marriagerelations with him could never be renewed, and that duty both to man andGod required her to separate from him. The allowing the negotiation was, therefore, an artifice to place his wife before the public in theattitude of a hard-hearted, inflexible woman; her refusal was what heknew beforehand must inevitably be the result, and merely gave himcapital in the sympathy of his friends, by which they should be broughtto tolerate and accept the bitter accusations of this poem. 

We have recently heard it asserted that this last-named piece of poetrywas the sudden offspring of a fit of ill-temper, and was never intendedto be published at all. There were certainly excellent reasons why hisfriends should have advised him not to publish it _at that time_. Butthat it was read with sympathy by the circle of his intimate friends, andbelieved by them, is evident from the frequency with which allusions toit occur in his confidential letters to them. {21}

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 publicimagination, more particularly since my moral ----- clove down my fame. 'Again to Murray in 1819, three years after, he says: 'I never hearanything of Ada, the little Electra of Mycenae. '

Electra was the daughter of Clytemnestra, in the Greek poem, who lived tocondemn her wicked mother, and to call on her brother to avenge thefather. 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 thisdaughter a future partisan against her mother, and explain the awfulwords he is stated in Lady Anne Barnard's diary to have used when firsthe looked on his little girl, --'What an instrument of torture I havegained in you!'

In a letter to Lord Blessington, April 6, 1823, he says, speaking of Dr. Parr:-- {22a}

 '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 AEgistheus. '

If Lord Byron wrote this poem merely in a momentary fit of spleen, whywere there so many persons evidently quite familiar with his allusions toit? and why was it preserved in Murray's hands? and why published afterhis death? That Byron was in the habit of reposing documents in thehands of Murray, to be used as occasion offered, is evident from a partof a note written by him to Murray respecting some verses so intrusted:'Pray let not these _versiculi_ go forth with my name except _to theinitiated_. ' {22b}

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 awoman whose widowed state deserved neither sympathy nor delicacy oftreatment. At a time when every sentiment in the heart of the mostdeeply wronged woman would forbid her appearing to justify herself fromsuch cruel slander of a dead husband, an honest, kind-hearted, worthyEnglishman actually thought it right and proper to give these lines toher eyes and the eyes of all the reading world. Nothing can show moreplainly what this poem was written for, and how thoroughly it did itswork! Considering Byron as a wronged man, Murray thought he wascontributing his mite towards doing him justice. His editor prefaced thewhole set of 'Domestic Pieces' with the following statements:--

 '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. 

 * * * *

 '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. _' {23}

Neither John Murray nor any of Byron's partisans seem to have ponderedthe admission in these last words. 

Here, as appears, was a woman, driven to the last despair, standing withher child in her arms, asking from English laws protection for herselfand child against her husband. 

She had appealed to the first counsel in England, and was acting undertheir direction. 

Two of the greatest lawyers in England have pronounced that there hasbeen such a cause of offence on his part that a return to him is neitherproper nor possible, and that no alternative remains to her butseparation or divorce. 

He asks her to state her charges against him. She, making answer underadvice of her counsel, says, 'That if he _insists_ on the specifications, he must receive them in open court in a suit for divorce. '

What, now, ought to have been the conduct of any brave, honest man, whobelieved that his wife was taking advantage of her reputation for virtueto turn every one against him, who saw that she had turned on her sideeven the lawyer he sought to retain on his; {24} that she was anunscrupulous woman, who acquiesced in every and any thing to gain herends, while he stood before the public, as he says, 'accused of everymonstrous vice, by public rumour or private rancour'? When she, underadvice of her lawyers, made the alternative legal _separation_ or openinvestigation in court for divorce, what did he do?

HE SIGNED THE ACT OF SEPARATION AND LEFT ENGLAND. 

Now, let any man who knows the legal mind of England, --let any lawyer whoknows the character of Sir Samuel Romilly and Dr. Lushington, ask whether_they_ were the men to take a case into court for a woman that had no_evidence_ but her own statements and impressions? Were _they_ men to goto trial without proofs? Did they not know that there were artful, hysterical women in the world, and would _they_, of all people, be themen to take a woman's story on her own side, and advise her in the lastissue to bring it into open court, without legal proof of the strongestkind? Now, as long as Sir Samuel Romilly lived, this statement ofByron's--that he was condemned unheard, and had no chance of knowingwhereof he _was accused--never appeared in public_. 

It, however, was most actively circulated in _private_. That Byron wasin the habit of intrusting to different confidants articles of variouskinds to be shown to different circles as they could bear them, we havealready 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'sdeath, he published in the preface to his 'Domestic Pieces' the sentence:'_He rejected the proposal for an amicable separation, but consented whenthreatened with a suit in Doctors' Commons_. ' It appears that, up to1853, neither John Murray senior, nor the son who now fills his place, had taken any notice of this newly found document, which we are nowinformed was drawn up by Lord Byron in August 1817, while Mr. Hobhousewas staying with him at La Mira, near Venice, given to Mr. MatthewGregory Lewis, _for circulation among friends in England_, found in Mr. Lewis's papers after his death, and _now_ in the possession of Mr. Murray. ' Here it is:--

 '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. 

 '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. 

 'BYRON. '

 'August 9, 1817. 

 '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. 

 'BYRON. '

 'La Mira, near Venice. '

It appears the circulation of this document must have been _veryprivate_, since Moore, not _over_-delicate towards Lady Byron, did notthink fit to print it; since John Murray neglected it, and since it hascome out at this late hour for the first time. 

If Lord Byron really desired Lady Byron and her legal counsel tounderstand the facts herein stated, and was willing at all hazards tobring on an open examination, why was this _privately_ circulated? Whynot issued as a card in the London papers? Is it likely that Mr. MatthewGregory 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?

We incline to think not. We incline to think that this small serpent, incompany with many others of like kind, crawled secretly and privatelyaround, and when it found a good chance, bit an honest Briton, whoseblood was thenceforth poisoned by an undetected falsehood. 

The reader now may turn to the letters that Mr. Moore has thought fit togive us of this stay at La Mira, beginning with Letter 286, dated July 1, 1817, {28a} where he says: 'I have been working up my impressions into a_Fourth_ Canto of Childe Harold, ' and also 'Mr. Lewis is in Venice. I amgoing up to stay a week with him there. '

Next, under date La Mira, Venice, July 10, {28b} he says, 'Monk Lewis ishere; how pleasant!'

Next, under date July 20, 1817, to Mr. Murray: 'I write to give younotice that I have _completed the fourth and ultimate canto of ChildeHarold_. . . . It is yet to be copied and polished, and the notes are tocome. '

Under date of La Mira, August 7, 1817, he records that the new canto isone hundred and thirty stanzas in length, and talks about the price forit. He is now ready to launch it on the world; and, as now appears, onAugust 9, 1817, _two days after_, he wrote the document above cited, andput it into the hands of Mr. Lewis, as we are informed, 'for circulationamong friends in England. '

The reason of this may now be evident. Having prepared a suitable numberof those whom he calls in his notes to Murray 'the initiated, ' by privatedocuments and statements, he is now prepared to publish his accusationsagainst his wife, and the story of his wrongs, in a great immortal poem, which shall have a band of initiated interpreters, shall be read throughthe civilised world, and stand to accuse her after his death. 

In the Fourth Canto of 'Childe Harold, ' with all his own overwhelmingpower of language, he sets forth his cause as against the silent womanwho all this time had been making no party, and telling no story, andwhom the world would therefore conclude to be silent because she had noanswer to make. I remember well the time when this poetry, so resoundingin its music, so mournful, so apparently generous, filled my heart with avague anguish of sorrow for the sufferer, and of indignation at the coldinsensibility that had maddened him. Thousands have felt the power ofthis great poem, which stands, and must stand to all time, a monument ofwhat sacred and solemn powers God gave to this wicked man, and how vilelyhe abused this power as a weapon to slay the innocent. 

It is among the ruins of ancient Rome that his voice breaks forth insolemn imprecation:--

 'O Time, thou beautifier of the dead, Adorner of the ruin, comforter, And only healer when the heart hath bled!-- Time, the corrector when our judgments err, The test of truth, love, --sole philosopher, For all besides are sophists, --from thy shrift That never loses, though it doth defer!-- Time, the avenger! unto thee I lift My hands and heart and eyes, and claim of thee a gift. 

 * * * *

 'If thou hast ever seen me too elate, Hear me not; but if calmly I have borne Good, and reserved my pride against the hate Which shall not whelm me, _let me not have worn This iron in my soul in vain, shall_ THEY _not mourn_? And thou who never yet of human wrong Left the unbalanced scale, great Nemesis, Here where the ancients paid their worship long, Thou who didst call the Furies from the abyss, And round Orestes bid them howl and hiss _For that unnatural retribution, --just Had it but come from hands less near_, --in this Thy former realm I call thee from the dust. Dost thou not hear, my heart? awake thou shalt and must! It is not that I may not have incurred For my ancestral faults and mine, the wound Wherewith I bleed withal, and had it been conferred With a just weapon it had flowed unbound, But now my blood shall not sink in the ground. 

 * * * *

 'But in this page a record will I seek; Not in the air shall these my words disperse, Though I be ashes, --a far hour shall wreak The deep prophetic fulness of this verse, And pile on human heads the mountain of my curse. That curse shall be forgiveness. Have I not, -- Hear me, my Mother Earth! behold it, Heaven, -- Have I not had to wrestle with my lot? Have I not suffered things to be forgiven? Have I not had my brain seared, my heart riven, Hopes sapped, name blighted, life's life lied away, And only not to desperation driven, Because not altogether of such clay As rots into the soul of those whom I survey?

 ----------

 'From mighty wrongs to petty perfidy, Have I not seen what human things could do, -- From the loud roar of foaming calumny, To the small whispers of the paltry few, And subtler venom of the reptile crew, _The Janus glance of whose significant eye, Learning to lie with silence, would seem true, And without utterance, save the shrug or sigh, Deal round to happy fools its speechless obloquy_?' {31}

The reader will please notice that the lines in italics are almost, wordfor word, a repetition of the lines in italics in the former poem on hiswife, where he speaks of a _significant eye_ that has _learned to lie insilence_, and were evidently meant to apply to Lady Byron and her smallcircle of confidential friends. 

Before this, in the Third Canto of 'Childe Harold, ' he had claimed thesympathy of the world, as a loving father, deprived by a severe fate ofthe solace and society of his only child:--

 'My daughter, --with this name my song began, -- My daughter, --with this name my song shall end, -- I see thee not and hear thee not, but none Can be so wrapped in thee; thou art the friend To whom the shadows of far years extend. 

 * * * *

 'To aid thy mind's developments, to watch The dawn of little joys, to sit and see Almost thy very growth, to view thee catch Knowledge of objects, --wonders yet to thee, -- And print on thy soft cheek a parent's kiss;-- This it should seem was not reserved for me. Yet this was in my nature, --as it is, I know not what there is, yet something like to this. 

 ----------

 '_Yet though dull hate as duty should be taught_, I know that thou wilt love me; though my name Should be shut out from thee as spell still fraught With desolation and a broken claim, Though the grave close between us, --'t were the same I know that thou wilt love me, though to drain My blood from out thy being were an aim And an attainment, --all will be in vain. '

To all these charges against her, sent all over the world in verses aseloquent as the English language is capable of, the wife replied nothing. 

 'Assailed by slander and the tongue of strife, Her only answer was, --a blameless life. '

She had a few friends, a very few, with whom she sought solace andsympathy. One letter from her, written at this time, preserved byaccident, is the only authentic record of how the matter stood with her. 

We regret to say that the publication of this document was not broughtforth to clear Lady Byron's name from her husband's slanders, but toshield _him_ from the worst accusation against him, by showing that thiscrime was not included in the few private confidential revelations thatfriendship wrung from the young wife at this period. 

Lady Anne Barnard, authoress of 'Auld Robin Grey, ' a friend whose age andexperience made her a proper confidante, sent for the broken-hearted, perplexed wife, and offered her a woman's sympathy. 

To her Lady Byron wrote many letters, under seal of confidence, and LadyAnne says: 'I will give you a few paragraphs transcribed from one of LadyByron's own letters to me. It is sorrowful to think that in a verylittle time this young and amiable creature, wise, patient, and feeling, will have her character mistaken by every one who reads Byron's works. Torescue her from this I preserved her letters, and when she afterwardsexpressed a fear that anything of her writing should ever fall into handsto injure him (I suppose she meant by publication), I safely assured herthat it never should. But here this letter shall be placed, a sacredrecord in her favour, unknown to herself. 

 '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 semblance 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 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. 

 '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 _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. 

 '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. 

 '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

 'A. BYRON. '

On this letter I observe Lord Lindsay remarks that it shows a noble butrather severe character, and a recent author has remarked that it seemedto be written rather in a 'cold spirit of criticism. ' It seems to strikethese gentlemen as singular that Lady Byron did not enjoy the poem! Butthere are two remarkable sentences in this letter which have escaped thecritics hitherto. Lord Byron, in this, the Third Canto of 'ChildeHarold, ' expresses in most affecting words an enthusiasm of love for hissister. So long as he lived he was her faithful correspondent; he senther his journals; and, dying, he left her and her children everything hehad in the world. This certainly seems like an affectionate brother; butin what words does Lady Byron speak of this affection?

'I _had heard he was the best of brothers_, the most generous of friends. I thought these feelings only required to be warmed and cherished intomore diffusive benevolence. THESE OPINIONS ARE ERADICATED, AND COULDNEVER RETURN BUT WITH THE DECAY OF MEMORY. ' Let me ask those who givethis letter as a proof that at this time no idea such as I have statedwas in Lady Byron's mind, to account for these words. Let them pleaseanswer these questions: Why had Lady Byron ceased to think him a goodbrother? Why does she use so strong a word as that the opinion waseradicated, torn up by the roots, and could never grow again in herexcept by decay of memory?

And yet this is a document Lord Lindsay vouches for as authentic, andwhich he brings forward _in defence_ of Lord Byron. 

Again she says, 'Though he _would not suffer me to remain his wife_, hecannot prevent me from continuing his friend. ' Do these words not saythat in some past time, in some decided manner, Lord Byron had declaredto her his rejection of her as a wife? I shall yet have occasion toexplain these words. 

Again she says, 'I silenced accusations by which my conduct might havebeen more fully justified. '

The people in England who are so very busy in searching out evidenceagainst my true story have searched out and given to the world animportant confirmation of this assertion of Lady Byron's. 

It seems that the confidential waiting-maid who went with Lady Byron onher wedding journey has been sought out and interrogated, and, as appearsby description, is a venerable, respectable old person, quite inpossession of all her senses in general, and of that sixth sense ofpropriety in particular, which appears not to be a common virtue in ourdays. 

As her testimony is important, we insert it just here, with a descriptionof her person in full. The ardent investigators thus speak:--

 '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. '

Such is the chronicler's account of the faithful creature whom nothingbut intense indignation and disgust at Mrs. Beecher Stowe would lead tospeak on her mistress's affairs; but Mrs. Beecher Stowe feels none theless sincere respect for her, and is none the less obliged to her forhaving spoken. Much of Mrs. Mimms's testimony will be referred to inanother place; we only extract one passage, to show that while Lord Byronspent his time in setting afloat slanders against his wife, she spenthers in sealing the mouths of witnesses against him. 

Of the period of the honeymoon Mrs. Mimms says:--

 '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_. 

 * * * *

 '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. '

We have already shown that Lord Byron had been, ever since hisseparation, engaged in a systematic attempt to reverse the judgment ofthe world against himself, by making converts of all his friends to amost odious view of his wife's character, and inspiring them with thezeal of propagandists to spread these views through society. We haveseen how he prepared partisans to interpret the Fourth Canto of 'ChildeHarold. '

This plan of solemn and heroic accusation was the first public attack onhis wife. Next we see him commencing a scurrilous attempt to turn her toridicule in the First Canto of 'Don Juan. '

It is to our point now to show how carefully and cautiously this Don Juancampaign was planned. 

Vol. IV. P. 138, we find Letter 325 to Mr. Murray:--

 'Venice: January 25, 1819. 

 '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. '

The poem, as will be remembered, begins with the meanest and foulestattack on his wife that ever ribald wrote, and puts it in closeneighbourhood with scenes which every pure man or woman must feel to bethe beastly utterances of a man who had lost all sense of decency. Sucha potion was too strong to be administered even in a time when greatlicense was allowed, and men were not over-nice. But Byron chooses fiftyarmour-bearers of that class of men who would find indecent ribaldryabout a wife a good joke, and talk about the 'artistic merits' of thingswhich we hope would make an honest boy blush. 

At this time he acknowledges that his vices had brought him to a state ofgreat exhaustion, attended by such debility of the stomach that nothingremained on it; and adds, 'I was obliged to reform my way of life, whichwas conducting me from the yellow leaf to the ground with all deliberatespeed. ' {41} But as his health is a little better he employs it inmaking the way to death and hell elegantly easy for other young men, bybreaking down the remaining scruples of a society not over-scrupulous. 

Society revolted, however, and fought stoutly against the nauseous dose. His sister wrote to him that she heard such things said of it that _she_never would read it; and the outcry against it on the part of all womenof his acquaintance was such that for a time he was quite overborne; andthe Countess Guiccioli finally extorted a promise from him to ceasewriting it. Nevertheless, there came a time when England accepted 'DonJuan, '--when Wilson, in the 'Noctes Ambrosianae, ' praised it as aclassic, and took every opportunity to reprobate Lady Byron's conduct. When first it appeared the 'Blackwood' came out with that indignantdenunciation of which we have spoken, and to which Byron replied in theextracts we have already quoted. He did something more than reply. Hemarked out Wilson as one of the strongest literary men of the day, andset his 'initiated' with their documents to work upon him. 

One of these documents to which he requested Wilson's attention was theprivate autobiography, written expressly to give his own story of all thefacts of the marriage and separation. 

In the indignant letter he writes Murray on the 'Blackwood' article, Vol. IV. , Letter 350--under date December 10, 1819--he says:--

 '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. '

It was a part of Byron's policy to place Lady Byron in positions beforethe world where she _could_ not speak, and where her silence would be setdown to her as haughty, stony indifference and obstinacy. Such was thepretended negotiation through Madame de Stael, and such now thisapparently fair and generous offer to let Lady Byron see and mark thismanuscript. 

The little Ada is now in her fifth year--a child of singular sensibilityand remarkable mental powers--one of those exceptional children who areso perilous a charge for a mother. 

Her husband proposes this artful snare to her, --that she shall mark whatis false in a statement which is all built on a damning lie, that shecannot refute over that daughter's head, --and which would perhaps be herruin to discuss. 

Hence came an addition of two more documents, to be used 'privately amongfriends, ' {43} and which 'Blackwood' uses after Lady Byron is safely outof the world to cast ignominy on her grave--the wife's letter, that of amother standing at bay for her daughter, knowing that she is dealing witha desperate, powerful, unscrupulous enemy. 

 'Kirkby Mallory: March 10, 1820. 

 '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. 

 'A. Byron. 

 'To Lord Byron. '

Lord Byron, writing for the public, as is his custom, makes reply:--

 'Ravenna: April 3, 1820. 

 '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:--

 '"Ed io, che posto son con loro in croce . . . . . E certo La fiera moglie, piu ch'altro, mi nuoce. " {44}

 'BYRON. 

 'To Lady Byron. '

Two things are very evident in this correspondence: Lady Byron intimatesthat, if he publishes his story, some _consequences_ must follow whichshe shall regret. 

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. 

The intimation is quite clear. He _does_ understand what theconsequences alluded to are. They are evidently that Lady Byron willspeak out and tell her story. He says she cannot do this till _after heis dead_, and then he shall not care. In allusion to her accuracy as todates and figures, he says: 'Be assured no power of figures can availbeyond the present' (life); and then ironically _advises_ her to_anticipate the period_, --i. E. To speak out while he is alive. 

In Vol. VI. Letter 518, which Lord Byron wrote to Lady Byron, but did notsend, 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 theresources of worldly and suspicious people. '

It would appear from this that there was a last letter of Lady Byron toher husband, which he did not think proper to keep on hand, or show tothe 'initiated' with his usual unreserve; that this letter contained somekind of _pledge_ for which he preferred to take her word, _withoutdocuments_. 

Each reader can imagine for himself what that _pledge_ might have been;but from the tenor of the three letters we should infer that it was apromise of silence for his lifetime, on _certain conditions_, and thatthe publication of the autobiography would violate those conditions, andmake it her duty to speak out. 

This celebrated autobiography forms so conspicuous a figure in the wholehistory, that the reader must have a full idea of it, as given by Byronhimself, in Vol. IV. Letter 344, to Murray:--

 '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. . . . '

He tells him also:--

 '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. '

Of the extent to which this autobiography was circulated we have thefollowing testimony of Shelton Mackenzie, in notes to 'The Noctes' ofJune 1824. 

In 'The Noctes' Odoherty says:--

 'The fact is, the work had been copied for the private reading of a great lady in Florence. '

The note says:--

 '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. '

This was written _after the original autobiography was burned_. 

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 societysaturated with Byron's own versions of the story that related to himselfand wife! Against her there was only the complaint of an absolutesilence. She put forth no statements, no documents; had no party, sealedthe lips of her counsel, and even of her servants; yet she could not buthave known, from time to time, how thoroughly and strongly this web ofmingled truth and lies was being meshed around her steps. 

From the time that Byron first saw the importance of securing Wilson onhis side, and wrote to have his partisans attend to him, we may date anentire revolution in the 'Blackwood. ' It became Byron's warmestsupporter, --is to this day the bitterest accuser of his wife. 

Why was this wonderful silence? It appears by Dr. Lushington'sstatements, that, when Lady Byron did speak, she had a story to tell thatpowerfully affected both him and Romilly, --a story supported by evidenceon which they were willing to have gone to public trial. Supposing, now, she had imitated Lord Byron's example, and, avoiding public trial, hadput her story into private circulation; as he sent 'Don Juan' to fiftyconfidential friends, suppose she had sent a written statement of herstory to fifty judges as intelligent as the two that had heard it; orsuppose she had confronted his autobiography with her own, --what wouldhave been the result?

The first result might have been Mrs. Leigh's utter ruin. The world mayfinally forgive the man of genius anything; but for a woman there is nomercy and no redemption. 

This ruin Lady Byron prevented by her utter silence and greatself-command. Mrs. Leigh never lost position. Lady Byron never sovaried in her manner towards her as to excite the suspicions even of herconfidential old servant. 

To protect Mrs. Leigh effectually, it must have been necessary tocontinue to exclude even her own mother from the secret, as we areassured she did at first; for, had she told Lady Milbanke, it is notpossible that so high-spirited a woman could have restrained herself fromsuch outward expressions as would at least have awakened suspicion. Therewas no resource but this absolute silence. 

Lady Blessington, in her last conversation with Lord Byron, thusdescribes the life Lady Byron was leading. She speaks of her as 'wearingaway her youth in almost monastic seclusion, questioned by some, appreciated by few, seeking consolation alone in the discharge of herduties, and avoiding all external demonstrations of a grief that her palecheek and solitary existence alone were vouchers for. ' {49}

The main object of all this silence may be imagined, if we remember thatif Lord Byron had not died, --had he truly and deeply repented, and becomea thoroughly good man, and returned to England to pursue a course worthyof his powers, there was on record neither word nor deed from his wife tostand in his way. 

HIS PLACE WAS KEPT IN SOCIETY, ready for him to return to whenever hecame clothed and in his right mind. He might have had the heart andconfidence of his daughter unshadowed by a suspicion. He might have wonthe reverence of the great and good in his own lands and all lands. Thathope, which was the strong support, the prayer of the silent wife, it didnot please God to fulfil. 

Lord Byron died a worn-out man at thirty-six. But the bitter seeds hehad 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 onthe heart of his widow. 

CHAPTER III. RESUME OF THE CONSPIRACY. 

We have traced the conspiracy of Lord Byron against his wife up to itslatest device. That the reader's mind may be clear on the points of theprocess, we shall now briefly recapitulate the documents in the order oftime. 

I. March 17, 1816. --While negotiations for separation werepending, --'_Fare thee well, and if for ever_. '

While writing these pages, we have received from England the testimony ofone who has seen the original draught of that 'Fare thee well. ' Thisoriginal copy had evidently been subjected to the most careful and acuterevision. Scarcely two lines that were not interlined, scarcely anadjective that was not exchanged for a better; showing that the noblelord was not so far overcome by grief as to have forgotten hisreputation. (Found its way to the public prints through the imprudenceof _a friend_. )

II. March 29, 1816. --An attack on Lady Byron's old governess for havingbeen born poor, for being homely, and for having unduly influenced hiswife against him; promising that her grave should be a fiery bed, etc. ;also praising his wife's perfect and remarkable truthfulness anddiscernment, that made it impossible for flattery to fool, or basenessblind her; but ascribing all his woes to her being fooled and blinded bythis same governess. (Found its way to the prints by the imprudence of_a friend_. )

III. September 1816. --Lines on hearing that Lady Byron is ill. Callsher a Clytemnestra, who has secretly set assassins on her lord; says sheis a mean, treacherous, deceitful liar, and has entirely departed fromher early truth, and become the most unscrupulous and unprincipled ofwomen. (Never printed till after Lord Byron's death, but circulated_privately_ among the '_initiated_. ')

IV. Aug. 9, 1817. --Gives to M. G. Lewis a paper for circulation amongfriends in England, stating that what he most wants is _publicinvestigation_, which has always been denied him; and daring Lady Byronand her counsel to come out publicly. (Found in M. G. Lewis's portfolioafter his death; never heard of before, except among the 'initiated. ')

Having given M. G. Lewis's document time to work, --

January 1818. --Gives the Fourth Canto of 'Childe Harold' {51} to thepublic. 

Jan. 25, 1819. --Sends to Murray to print for private circulation amongthe 'initiated' the First Canto of 'Don Juan. '

Is nobly and severely rebuked for this insult to his wife by the'Blackwood, ' August 1819. 

October 1819. --Gives Moore the manuscript 'Autobiography, ' with leave toshow it to whom he pleases, and print it after his death. 

Oct. 29, 1819, Vol. IV. Letter 344. --Writes to Murray, that he may readall this 'Autobiography, ' and show it to anybody he likes. 

Dec. 10, 1819. --Writes to Murray on this article in 'Blackwood' against'Don Juan' and himself, which he supposes written by Wilson; sends acomplimentary message to Wilson, and asks him to read his 'Autobiography'sent by Moore. (Letter 350. )

March 15, 1820. --Writes and dedicates to I. Disraeli, Esq. , a vindicationof himself in reply to the 'Blackwood' on 'Don Juan, ' containing anindignant defence of his own conduct in relation to his wife, andmaintaining that he never yet has had an opportunity of knowing whereofhe has been accused; accusing Sir S. Romilly of taking his retainer, andthen going over to the adverse party, etc. (Printed for _privatecirculation_; to be found in the standard English edition of Murray, vol. Ix. P. 57. )

To this condensed account of Byron's strategy we must add the crowningstroke of policy which transmitted this warfare to his friends, to becontinued after his death. 

During the last visit Moore made him in Italy, and just before Byronpresented to him his 'Autobiography, ' the following scene occurred, asnarrated by Moore (vol. Iv. P. 221):--

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. '

In this same account, page 218, Moore testifies that

 '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. '

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 andaffection, as an illustrious lady, distinguished for her qualities ofheart and understanding; saying that all the fault of their cruelseparation lay with himself. Mr. Moore seems at times to be somewhatpuzzled by these contradictory statements of his idol, and speculates nota little on what could be Lord Byron's object in using such language inpublic; mentally comparing it, we suppose, with the free handling whichhe gave to the same subject in his private correspondence. 

The innocence with which Moore gives himself up to be manipulated by LordByron, the naivete with which he shows all the process, let us a littleinto the secret of the marvellous powers of charming and blinding whichthis great actor possessed. 

Lord Byron had the beauty, the wit, the genius, the dramatic talent, which have constituted the strength of some wonderfully fascinatingwomen. 

There have been women able to lead their leashes of blinded adorers; tomake them swear that black was white, or white black, at their word; tosmile away their senses, or weep away their reason. No matter what thesesirens may say, no matter what they may do, though caught in a thousandtransparent lies, and doing a thousand deeds which would have ruinedothers, still men madly rave after them in life, and tear their hair overtheir graves. Such an enchanter in man's shape was Lord Byron. 

He led captive Moore and Murray by being beautiful, a genius, and a lord;calling them 'Dear Tom' and 'Dear Murray, ' while they were onlycommoners. He first insulted Sir Walter Scott, and then witched hisheart out of him by ingenuous confessions and poetical compliments; hetook Wilson's heart by flattering messages and a beautifully-writtenletter; he corresponded familiarly with Hogg; and, before his death, hadmade fast friends, in one way or another, of the whole 'NoctesAmbrosianae' Club. 

We thus have given the historical resume of Lord Byron's attacks on hiswife's reputation: we shall add, that they were based on philosophicprinciples, showing a deep knowledge of mankind. An analysis will showthat they can be philosophically classified:--

1st. Those which addressed the sympathetic nature of man, representingher as cold, methodical, severe, strict, unforgiving. 

2nd. Those addressed to the faculty of association, connecting her withludicrous and licentious images; taking from her the usual protection ofwomanly delicacy and sacredness. 

3rd. Those addressed to the moral faculties, accusing her as artful, treacherous, untruthful, malignant. 

All these various devices he held in his hand, shuffling and dealing themas a careful gamester his pack of cards according to the exigencies ofthe game. He played adroitly, skilfully, with blinding flatteries andseductive wiles, that made his victims willing dupes. 

Nothing can more clearly show the power and perfectness of hisenchantments than the masterly way in which he turned back the moralforce of the whole English nation, which had risen at first in itsstrength against him. The victory was complete. 

CHAPTER IV. RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON'S DEATH. 

At the time of Lord Byron's death, the English public had been soskilfully manipulated by the Byron propaganda, that the sympathy of thewhole world was with him. A tide of emotion was now aroused in Englandby his early death--dying in the cause of Greece and liberty. Therearose 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, towhich the greatest literary men of England freely gave voice. By generalconsent, Lady Byron seems to have been looked upon as the onlycold-hearted unsympathetic person in this general mourning. 

From that time the literary world of England apparently regarded LadyByron as a woman to whom none of the decorums, nor courtesies of ordinarywomanhood, nor even the consideration belonging to common humanity, weredue. 

'She that is a widow indeed, and desolate, ' has been regarded in allChristian countries as an object made sacred by the touch of God'safflicting hand, sacred in her very helplessness; and the old HebrewScriptures give to the Supreme Father no dearer title than 'the widow'sGod. ' But, on Lord Byron's death, men not devoid of tenderness, menotherwise generous and of fine feeling, acquiesced in insults to hiswidow with an obtuseness that seems, on review, quite incredible. 

Lady Byron was not only a widow, but an orphan. She had no sister forconfidante; no father and mother to whom to go in her sorrows--sorrows somuch deeper and darker to her than they could be to any other humanbeing. She had neither son nor brother to uphold and protect her. Onall hands it was acknowledged that, so far, there was no fault to befound 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 ofEngland issued article upon article not only devoid of delicacy, butapparently injurious and insulting towards her, with a blindunconsciousness which seems astonishing. 

One of the greatest literary powers of that time was the 'Blackwood:' thereigning monarch on that literary throne was Wilson, the lion-hearted, the brave, generous, tender poet, and, with some sad exceptions, thenoble man. But Wilson had believed the story of Byron, and, by his verygenerosity and tenderness and pity, was betrayed into injustice. 

In 'The Noctes' of November 1824 there is a conversation of the NoctesClub, in which North says, 'Byron and I knew each other pretty well; andI suppose there's no harm in adding, that we appreciated each otherpretty tolerably. Did you ever see his letter to me?'

The footnote to this says, '_This letter, which was_ PRINTED _in Byron'slifetime, was not published till_ 1830, when it appeared in Moore's "Lifeof Byron. " It is one of the most vigorous prose compositions in thelanguage. Byron had the highest opinion of Wilson's genius and noblespirit. '

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 pureand good woman, whose circumstances under any point of view were trying, and who evidently shunned publicity, the subject of public discussion inmagazines which were read all over the world. 

Lady Byron, as they all knew, had on her hands a most delicate andonerous task, in bringing up an only daughter, necessarily inheritingpeculiarities of genius and great sensitiveness; and the manymortifications and embarrassments which such intermeddling with herprivate matters must have given, certainly should have been considered bymen with any pretensions to refinement or good feeling. 

But the literati of England allowed her no consideration, no rest, noprivacy. 

In 'The Noctes' of November 1825 there is the record of a freeconversation upon Lord and Lady Byron's affairs, interlarded withexhortations to push the bottle, and remarks on whisky-toddy. Medwin's'Conversations with Lord Byron' is discussed, which, we are told in anote, appeared a few months after the _noble_ poet's death. 

There is a rather bold and free discussion of Lord Byron's character--hisfondness for gin and water, on which stimulus he wrote 'Don Juan;' andJames Hogg says pleasantly to Mullion, 'O Mullion! it's a pity you andByron could na ha' been acquaint. There would ha' been brave sparring tosee who could say the wildest and the dreadfullest things; for he hadneither fear of man or woman, and would ha' his joke or jeer, cost whatit might. ' And then follows a specimen of one of his jokes with anactress, that, in indecency, certainly justifies the assertion. From theother stories which follow, and the parenthesis that occurs frequently('Mind your glass, James, a little more!'), it seems evident that theparty are progressing in their peculiar kind of _civilisation_. 

It is in this same circle and paper that Lady Byron's private affairscome up for discussion. The discussion is thus elegantly introduced:--

 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. '

 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]. 

The note here tells us that this refers to a statement that appeared in'Blackwood' immediately after Byron's death, to the effect that, previousto the formal separation from his wife, Byron required and obtained fromSir Ralph Milbanke, Lady Byron's father, a statement to the effect thatLady Byron had no charge of moral delinquency to bring against him. {61}

North continues:--

 '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'--

Hogg interposes, --

 '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?'

 North--'There, Porker! These things are part and parcel of the chatter of every bookseller's shop; a 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?'

And from this the conversation branches off into strong, emphatic praiseof Byron's conduct in Greece during the last part of his life. 

The silent widow is thus delicately and considerately reminded in the'Blackwood' that she is the talk, not only over the whisky jug of theNoctes, but in every drawing-room in London; and that she must speak outand explain matters, or the whole world will set against her. 

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 completeinformation of the Byron affairs, and was, on that account, first thoughtof by Murray to execute this very delicate task of writing a memoir whichshould include the most sacred domestic affairs of a noble lady and herorphan daughter, was Maginn. Maginn, the author of the pleasant joke, that 'man never reaches the apex of civilisation till he is too drunk topronounce the word, ' was the first person in whose hands the'Autobiography, ' Memoirs, and Journals of Lord Byron were placed withthis view. 

The following note from Shelton Mackenzie, in the June number of 'TheNoctes, ' 1824, says, --

 '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. '

The character of the times in which this work was to be undertaken willappear from the following note of Mackenzie's to 'The Noctes' of August1824, which we copy, with the author's own Italics:--

 '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. '

The reader must remember that Lord Byron died April 1824; so that, according to this, his 'Autobiography' was made the means of this grossinsult to his widow three months after his death. 

If some powerful cause had not paralysed all feelings of gentlemanlyhonour, and of womanly delicacy, and of common humanity, towards LadyByron, throughout the whole British nation, no editor would have dared toopen a periodical with such an article; or, if he had, he would have beenoverwhelmed with a storm of popular indignation, which, like the fireupon Sodom, would have made a pillar of salt of him for a warning to allfuture generations. 

'Blackwood' reproves the 'John Bull' in a poetical epistle, recognisingthe article as coming from Byron, and says to the author, --

 'But that you, sir, a wit and a scholar like you, Should not blush to produce what he blushed not to do, -- Take your compliment, youngster; this doubles, almost, The sorrow that rose when his honour was lost. '

We may not wonder that the 'Autobiography' was burned, as Murray says ina recent account, by a committee of Byron's friends, including Hobhouse, his sister, and Murray himself. 

Now, the 'Blackwood' of July 1824 thus declares its conviction that thisoutrage on every sentiment of human decency came from Lord Byron, andthat his honour was lost. Maginn does not undertake the memoir. Nomemoir at all is undertaken; till finally Moore is selected, as, likeDemetrius of old, a well-skilled gilder and 'maker of silver shrines, 'though not for Diana. To Moore is committed the task of doing his bestfor this battered image, in which even the worshippers recognise foulsulphurous cracks, but which they none the less stand ready to worship asa genuine article that 'fell down from Jupiter. '

Moore was a man of no particular nicety as to moralities, but in thatmatter seems not very much below what this record shows his averageassociates 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 asMaginn's frank invitation to Jeremy Bentham:--

 'Jeremy, throw your pen aside, And come get drunk with me; And we'll go where Bacchus sits astride, Perched high on barrels three. '

Moore's vice is cautious, soft, seductive, slippery, and covered at timeswith a thin, tremulous veil of religious sentimentalism. 

In regard to Byron, he was an unscrupulous, committed partisan: he was asmuch bewitched by him as ever man has been by woman; and therefore tohim, at last, the task of editing Byron's 'Memoirs' was given. 

This Byron, whom they all knew to be obscene beyond what even their mostdrunken tolerance could at first endure; this man, whose foul licensespoke out what most men conceal from mere respect to the decent instinctsof humanity; whose 'honour was lost, '--was submitted to this carefulmanipulator, to be turned out a perfected idol for a world longing for anidol, as the Israelites longed for the calf in Horeb. 

The image was to be invested with deceitful glories and shiftinghaloes, --admitted faults spoken of as peculiarities of sacred origin, --andthe world given to understand that no common rule or measure could applyto such an undoubtedly divine production; and so the hearts of men wereto be wrung with pity for his sorrows as the yearning pain of a god, andwith anger at his injuries as sacrilege on the sacredness of genius, tillthey were ready to cast themselves at his feet, and adore. 

Then he was to be set up on a pedestal, like Nebuchadnezzar's image onthe plains of Dura; and what time the world heard the sound of cornet, sackbut, and dulcimer, in his enchanting verse, they were to fall downand worship. 

For Lady Byron, Moore had simply the respect that a commoner has for alady of rank, and a good deal of the feeling that seems to underlie allEnglish literature, --that it is no matter what becomes of the woman whenthe man's story is to be told. But, with all his faults, Moore was not acruel man; and we cannot conceive such outrageous cruelty andungentlemanly indelicacy towards an unoffending woman, as he shows inthese 'Memoirs, ' without referring them to Lord Byron's own influence inmaking him an unscrupulous, committed partisan on his side. 

So little pity, so little sympathy, did he suppose Lady Byron to beworthy of, that he laid before her, in the sight of all the world, selections from her husband's letters and journals, in which theprivacies of her courtship and married life were jested upon with avulgar levity; letters filled, from the time of the act of separation, with a constant succession of sarcasms, stabs, stings, epigrams, andvindictive allusions to herself, bringing her into direct and insultingcomparison with his various mistresses, and implying their superiorityover her. There, too, were gross attacks on her father and mother, ashaving been the instigators of the separation; and poor Lady Milbanke, inparticular, is sometimes mentioned with epithets so offensive, that theeditor prudently covers the terms with stars, as intending language toogross to be printed. 

The last mistress of Lord Byron is uniformly brought forward in terms ofsuch respect and consideration, that one would suppose that the usualmoral laws that regulate English family life had been specially repealedin his favour. Moore quotes with approval letters from Shelley, statingthat Lord Byron's connection with La Guiccioli has been of inestimablebenefit to him; and that he is now becoming what he should be, 'avirtuous man. ' Moore goes on to speak of the connection as one, thoughsomewhat reprehensible, yet as having all those advantages of marriageand settled domestic ties that Byron's affectionate spirit had longsighed for, but never before found; and in his last resume of the poet'scharacter, at the end of the volume, he brings the mistress into directcomparison with the wife in a single sentence: 'The woman to whom he gavethe love of his maturer years idolises his name; and, with a singleunhappy exception, scarce an instance is to be found of one brought. . . Into relations of amity with him who did not retain a kind regard for himin life, and a fondness for his memory. '

Literature has never yet seen the instance of a person, of Lady Byron'srank in life, placed before the world in a position more humiliating towomanly dignity, or wounding to womanly delicacy. 

The direct implication is, that she has no feelings to be hurt, no heartto be broken, and is not worthy even of the consideration which inordinary life is to be accorded to a widow who has received those awfultidings which generally must awaken many emotions, and call for someconsideration, even in the most callous hearts. 

The woman who we are told walked the room, vainly striving to control thesobs that shook her frame, while she sought to draw from the servant thatlast message of her husband which she was never to hear, was not thoughtworthy even of the rights of common humanity. 

The first volume of the 'Memoir' came out in 1830. Then for the firsttime came one flash of lightning from the silent cloud; and she who hadnever spoken before spoke out. The libels on the memory of her deadparents drew from her what her own wrongs never did. During all thistime, while her husband had been keeping her effigy dangling before thepublic as a mark for solemn curses, and filthy lampoons, and secretly-circulated disclosures, that spared no sacredness and violated everydecorum, she had not uttered a word. She had been subjected to namelessinsults, discussed in the assemblies of drunkards, and challenged tospeak for herself. Like the chaste lady in 'Comus, ' whom the vile wizardhad bound in the enchanted seat to be 'grinned at and chattered at' byall the filthy rabble of his dehumanised rout, she had remained pure, lofty, and undefiled; and the stains of mud and mire thrown upon her hadfallen from her spotless garments. 

Now that she is dead, a recent writer in 'The London Quarterly' daresgive voice to an insinuation which even Byron gave only a suggestion ofwhen he called his wife Clytemnestra; and hints that she tried the powerof youth and beauty to win to her the young solicitor Lushington, and ahandsome young officer of high rank. 

At this time, such insinuations had not been thought of; and the only andchief allegation against Lady Byron had been a cruel severity of virtue. 

At all events, when Lady Byron spoke, the world listened with respect, and believed what she said. 

Here let us, too, read her statement, and give it the careful attentionshe solicits (Moore's 'Life of Byron, ' vol. Vi. P. 275):--

 '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): {70a} "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. {70b} 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. "

 '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. 

 'The last letter was circulated, and employed as a pretext for the charge of my having been subsequently influenced to "desert" {72} 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. 

 '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:--

 '"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. 

 '"Believe me, very faithfully yours, '"STEPH. LUSHINGTON. 

 '"Great George Street, Jan. 31, 1830. "

 '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. 

 '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. 

 'A. I. NOEL BYRON. 

 'Hanger Hill, Feb. 19, 1830. '

The effect of this statement on the literary world may be best judged bythe discussion of it by Christopher North (Wilson) in the succeeding Maynumber of 'The Noctes, ' where the bravest and most generous of literarymen that then were--himself the husband of a gentle wife--thus givessentence: the conversation is between North and the Shepherd:--

 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?'

 Shepherd. --'She did that, sir; by my troth, she did that. '

 . . . . 

 North. --'Miss Milbanke knew that he was reckoned a rake and a roue; 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. . . . 

 '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. 

 . . . . 

 ''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. '

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 ofthe wife. We render his Scotch into English:--

 '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. '

Then follows a pathetic picture of one such widow, trembling and faintingfor hunger, obliged, on her way to the well for a can of water, her onlydrink, to sit down on a 'knowe' and say a prayer. 

 '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. 

 '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. . . . 

 '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. 

Here is a specimen of how even generous men had been so perverted by theenchantment of Lord Byron's genius, as to turn all the pathos and powerof the strongest literature of that day against the persecuted, purewoman, and for the strong, wicked man. These 'Blackwood' writers knew, by Byron's own filthy, ghastly writings, which had gone sorely againsttheir 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 innocentgirl's heart by sending a love-letter, and offer of marriage, at the endof a long friendly correspondence, --a letter that had been written toshow to his libertine set, and sent on the toss-up of a copper, becausehe cared nothing for it one way or the other. 

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 thenameless abominations in the 'Autobiography. ' They had admitted amongthemselves that his honour was lost; but still this abused, desecratedwoman must reverence her brutal master's memory, and not speak, even todefend the grave of her own kind father and mother. 

That there was no lover of her youth, that the marriage-vow had been ahideous, 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 Byronthis touching story of a poor widow, who really had had a true loveronce, --a lover maddened, imbruted, lost, through that very drunkenness inwhich the Noctes Club were always glorying. 

It is because of such transgressors as Byron, such supporters as Mooreand the Noctes Club, that there are so many helpless, cowering, broken-hearted, abject women, given over to the animal love which they sharealike with the poor dog, --the dog, who, beaten, kicked, starved, andcuffed, still lies by his drunken master with great anxious eyes of loveand sorrow, and with sweet, brute forgiveness nestles upon his bosom, ashe lies in his filth in the snowy ditch, to keep the warmth of life inhim. Great is the mystery of this fidelity in the poor, lovingbrute, --most mournful and most sacred

But, oh that a noble man should have no higher ideal of the love of ahigh-souled, heroic woman! Oh that men should teach women that they oweno higher duties, and are capable of no higher tenderness, than thisloving, unquestioning animal fidelity! The dog is ever-loving, ever-forgiving, because God has given him no high range of moralfaculties, no sense of justice, no consequent horror at impurity andvileness. 

Much of the beautiful patience and forgiveness of women is made possibleto them by that utter deadness to the sense of justice which the laws, literature, and misunderstood religion of England have sought to inducein woman as a special grace and virtue. 

The lesson to woman in this pathetic piece of special pleading is, thatman 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 themarriage-bed for foul rivals; yet all this does not dissolve the marriage-vow on her part, nor free his bounden serf from her obligation to honourhis memory, --nay, to sacrifice to it the honour due to a kind father andmother, slandered in their silent graves. 

Such was the sympathy, and such the advice, that the best literature ofEngland could give to a young widow, a peeress of England, whose husband, as they verily believed and admitted, might have done worse than allthis; whose crimes might have been 'foul, monstrous, unforgivable as thesin against the Holy Ghost. ' If these things be done in the green tree, what shall be done in the dry? If the peeress as a wife has no rights, what is the state of the cotter's wife?

But, in the same paper, North again blames Lady Byron for not having comeout with the whole story before the world at the time she separated fromher husband. He says of the time when she first consulted counselthrough her mother, keeping back one item, --

 '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. '

 Shepherd. --'And what think ye, sir, that a' this pollution could hae been, that sae electrified Dr. Lushington?'

 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. '

 Shepherd. --'She should indeed hae been silent--till the grave had closed on her sorrows as on his sins. '

 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. '

We have another discussion of Lady Byron's duties in a further number of'Blackwood. '

The 'Memoir' being out, it was proposed that there should be a completeannotation of Byron's works gotten up, and adorned, for the furtherglorification of his memory, with portraits of the various women whom hehad delighted to honour. 

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 ofmistresses, and Moore's comparisons between herself and La Guiccioli, onemight imagine reasons why a lady, with proper self-respect, should objectto appearing in this manner. One would suppose there might have beengentlemen who could well appreciate the motive of that refusal; but itwas only considered a new evidence that she was indifferent to herconjugal duties, and wanting in that respect which Christopher North hadtold her she owed a husband's memory, though his crimes were foul as therottenness of the grave. 

Never, since Queen Vashti refused to come at the command of a drunkenhusband to show herself to his drunken lords, was there a clearer case ofdisrespect to the marital dignity on the part of a wife. It was a plainact of insubordination, rebellion against law and order; and how shockingin Lady Byron, who ought to feel herself but too much flattered to beexhibited to the public as the head wife of a man of genius!

Means were at once adopted to subdue her contumacy, of which one may readin a note to the 'Blackwood' (Noctes), September 1832. An artist wassent 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 shecould not but observe him. We shall give the rest in Mackenzie's ownwords, as a remarkable specimen of the obtuseness, not to say indelicacyof feeling, which seemed to pervade the literary circles of England atthe time:--

 '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. '

The artless barbarism of this note is too good to be lost; but it isquite borne out by the conversation in the Noctes Club, which itillustrates. 

It would appear from this conversation that these Byron beauties appearedsuccessively in pamphlet form; and the picture of Lady Byron is thusdiscussed:--

 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. '

 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?'

 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. '

 North. --'By all means. I mean to do that for all the Byron Beauties. '

But it may be asked, Was there not a man in all England with delicacyenough to feel for Lady Byron, and chivalry enough to speak a bold wordfor her? Yes: there was one. Thomas Campbell the poet, when he readLady Byron's statement, believed it, as did Christopher North; but itaffected him differently. It appears he did not believe it a wife's dutyto 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 beingas well as a husband. 

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 'TheNew Monthly Magazine, ' shortly after, printed a spirited, gentlemanlydefence of Lady Byron, and administered a pointed rebuke to Moore for therudeness and indelicacy he had shown in selecting from Byron's lettersthe coarsest against herself, her parents, and her old governess Mrs. Clermont, and by the indecent comparisons he had instituted between LadyByron and Lord Byron's last mistress. 

It is refreshing to hear, at last, from somebody who is not altogether onhis knees at the feet of the popular idol, and who has some chivalry forwoman, and some idea of common humanity. He says, --

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 . . . . 

 '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. 

 '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. '

Campbell now goes on to print, at his own peril, he says, and withouttime to ask leave, the following note from Lady Byron in reply to anapplication he made to her, when he was about to review Moore's book, foran 'estimate as to the correctness of Moore's statements. '

The following is Lady Byron's reply:--

 'DEAR MR. CAMPBELL, --In taking up my pen to point out for your private information {86} 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. 

 'I am, etc. , 'A. I. NOEL BYRON. '

Campbell then goes on to reprove Moore for his injustice to Mrs. Clermont, whom Lord Byron had denounced as a spy, but whoserespectability and innocence were vouched for by Lord Byron's own family;and then he pointedly rebukes one false statement of great indelicacy andcruelty concerning Lady Byron's courtship, as follows:--

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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

 '"Blest with a temper, whose unclouded ray Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day"?

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 'THOMAS CAMPBELL. '

Here is what seems to be a gentlemanly, high-spirited, chivalric man, throwing down his glove in the lists for a pure woman. 

What was the consequence? Campbell was crowded back, thrust down, overwhelmed, his eyes filled with dust, his mouth with ashes. 

There was a general confusion and outcry, which reacted both on him andon 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'senemies, and deserted by her friends. All the literary authorities ofhis day took up against him with energy. Christopher North, professor ofmoral philosophy in the Edinburgh University, in a fatherly talk in 'TheNoctes, ' condemns Campbell, and justifies Moore, and heartily recommendshis 'Biography, ' as containing nothing materially objectionable on thescore either of manners or morals. Thus we have it in 'The Noctes' ofMay 1830:--

 '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. '

On the point in question between Moore and Campbell, North goes on tojustify Moore altogether, only admitting that 'it would have been betterhad he not printed any coarse expression of Byron's about the oldpeople;' and, finally, he closes by saying, --

 '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. '

Of the conduct of Lady Byron's so-called friends on this occasion it ismore difficult to speak. 

There has always been in England, as John Stuart Mill says, a class ofwomen 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 ofChaucer, who, when her husband humiliates her, and treats her as a brute, still accepts all with meek, unquestioning, uncomplaining devotion. Hetears her from her children; he treats her with personal abuse; herepudiates her, --sends her out to nakedness and poverty; he installsanother mistress in his house, and sends for the first to be her handmaidand his own: and all this the meek saint accepts in the words of Milton, --

 'My guide and head, What thou hast said is just and right. '

Accordingly, Miss Martineau tells us that when Campbell's defence cameout, coupled with a note from Lady Byron, --

 '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. '

The saint had fallen from her pedestal! She had shown a human frailty!Quite evidently she is not a Griselda, but possessed with a shockingdesire to exculpate herself and her friends. 

Is it, then, only to slandered men that the privilege belongs of desiringto exculpate themselves and their families and their friends from unjustcensure?

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 hepossessed. He had left it as a last charge to Moore to pursue thewarfare after death, which Moore had done to some purpose; andChristopher North had informed Lady Byron that her private affairs werediscussed, not only with the whisky-toddy of the Noctes Club, but inevery drawing-room in May Fair; and declared that the 'Dear Duck' letter, and various other matters, must be explained, and urged somebody tospeak; and then, when Campbell does speak with all the energy of a realgentleman, a general outcry and an indiscriminate melee is the result. 

The world, with its usual injustice, insisted on attributing Campbell'sdefence to Lady Byron. 

The reasons for this seemed to be, first, that Campbell states that hedid not ask Lady Byron's leave, and that she did not authorise him todefend her; and, second, that, having asked some explanations from her, he prints a note in which she declines to give any. 

We know not how a lady could more gently yet firmly decline to make agentleman her confidant than in this published note of Lady Byron; andyet, to this day, Campbell is spoken of by the world as having been LadyByron's confidant at this time. This simply shows how very trustworthyare the general assertions about Lady Byron's confidants. 

The final result of the matter, so far as Campbell was concerned, isgiven in Miss Martineau's sketch, in the following paragraph:--

 '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. '

It is the saddest of all sad things to see a man, who has spoken frommoral convictions, in advance of his day, and who has taken a stand forwhich he ought to honour himself, thus forced down and humiliated, madeto doubt his own better nature and his own honourable feelings, by thevoice of a wicked world. 

Campbell had no steadiness to stand by the truth he saw. His whole storyis told incidentally in a note to 'The Noctes, ' in which it is stated, that in an article in 'Blackwood, ' January 1825, on Scotch poets, thepalm was given to Hogg over Campbell; 'one ground being, that he coulddrink "eight and twenty tumblers of punch, while Campbell is hazy uponseven. "'

There is evidence in 'The Noctes, ' that in due time Campbell wasreconciled to Moore, and was always suitably ashamed of having tried tobe any more generous or just than the men of his generation. 

And so it was settled as a law to Jacob, and an ordinance in Israel, thatthe Byron worship should proceed, and that all the earth should keepsilence before him. 'Don Juan, ' that, years before, had been printed bystealth, without Murray's name on the title-page, that had been denouncedas a book which no woman should read, and had been given up as adesperate enterprise, now came forth in triumph, with banners flying anddrums beating. Every great periodical in England that had fired moralvolleys of artillery against it in its early days, now humbly marched inthe glorious procession of admirers to salute this edifying work ofgenius. 

'Blackwood, ' which in the beginning had been the most indignantlyvirtuous of the whole, now grovelled and ate dust as the serpent in thevery abjectness of submission. Odoherty (Maginn) declares that he wouldrather have written a page of 'Don Juan' than a ton of 'Childe Harold. '{95a} Timothy Tickler informs Christopher North that he means to tenderMurray, as Emperor of the North, an interleaved copy {95b} of 'Don Juan, 'with illustrations, as the only work of Byron's he cares much about; andChristopher North, professor of moral philosophy in Edinburgh, smilesapproval! We are not, after this, surprised to see the assertion, by arecent much-aggrieved writer in 'The London Era, ' that 'Lord Byron hasbeen, more than any other man of the age, the teacher of the youth ofEngland;' and that he has 'seen his works on the bookshelves of bishops'palaces, no less than on the tables of university undergraduates. '

A note to 'The Noctes' of July 1822 informs us of another instance ofLord Byron's triumph over English morals:--

 '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. "'

What was Lady Byron to do in such a world? She retired to the deepestprivacy, and devoted herself to works of charity, and the education ofher only child, that brilliant daughter, to whose eager, opening mind thewhole course of current literature must bring so many trying questions inregard to the position of her father and mother, --questions that themother might not answer. That the cruel inconsiderateness of theliterary world added thorns to the intricacies of the path trodden byevery mother who seeks to guide, restrain, and educate a strong, acute, and precociously intelligent child, must easily be seen. 

What remains to be said of Lady Byron's life shall be said in the wordsof Miss Martineau, published in 'The Atlantic Monthly:'--

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. '

We have simply to ask the reader whether a life like this was not thebest, the noblest answer that a woman could make to a doubting world. 

CHAPTER V. THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON'S GRAVE. 

We have now brought the review of the antagonism against Lady Byron downto the period of her death. During all this time, let the candid readerask himself which of these two parties seems to be plotting against theother. 

Which has been active, aggressive, unscrupulous? which has been silent, quiet, unoffending? Which of the two has laboured to make a party, andto make that party active, watchful, enthusiastic?

Have we not proved that Lady Byron remained perfectly silent during LordByron's life, patiently looking out from her retirement to see the wavesof popular sympathy, that once bore her up, day by day retreating, whilehis accusations against her were resounding in his poems over the wholeearth? And after Lord Byron's death, when all the world with one consentbegan to give their memorials of him, and made it appear, by theirvarious 'recollections of conversations, ' how incessantly he had obtrudedhis own version of the separation upon every listener, did she manifestany similar eagerness?

Lady Byron had seen the 'Blackwood' coming forward, on the firstappearance of 'Don Juan, ' to rebuke the cowardly lampoon in wordseloquent with all the unperverted vigour of an honest Englishman. Underthe power of the great conspirator, she had seen that 'Blackwood' becomethe very eager recipient and chief reporter of the stories against her, and the blind admirer of her adversary. 

All this time, she lost sympathy daily by being silent. The world willembrace 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 theoften accused who do not speak, who make no confidants and no parties, the world soon loses sympathy. 

When at last she spoke, Christopher North says 'she astonished theworld. ' Calm, clear, courageous, exact as to time, date, andcircumstance, was that first testimony, backed by the equally cleartestimony of Dr. Lushington. 

It showed that her secret had been kept even from her parents. In wordsprecise, firm, and fearless, she says, 'If these statements on which Dr. Lushington and Sir Samuel Romilly formed their opinion were false, theresponsibility and the odium should rest with me only. ' ChristopherNorth did not pretend to disbelieve this statement. He breathed not adoubt of Lady Byron's word. He spoke of the crime indicated, as onewhich might have been foul as the grave's corruption, unforgivable as thesin against the Holy Ghost. He rebuked the wife for bearing thistestimony, even to save the memory of her dead father and mother, and, inthe same breath, declared that she ought now to go farther, and speakfully the one awful word, and then--'a mitigated sentence, or eternalsilence!'

But Lady Byron took no counsel with the world, nor with the literary menof her age. One knight, with some small remnant of England's oldchivalry, set lance in rest for her: she saw him beaten back unhorsed, rolled in the dust, and ingloriously vanquished, and perceived thathenceforth nothing but injury could come to any one who attempted tospeak for her. 

She turned from the judgments of man and the fond and natural hopes ofhuman nature, to lose herself in sacred ministries to the downcast andsuffering. What nobler record for woman could there be than that whichMiss Martineau has given?

Particularly to be noted in Lady Byron was her peculiar interest inreclaiming fallen women. Among her letters to Mrs. Prof. Follen, ofCambridge, was one addressed to a society of ladies who had undertakenthis difficult work. It was full of heavenly wisdom and of a large andtolerant charity. Fenelon truly says, it is only perfection that cantolerate imperfection; and the very purity of Lady Byron's nature madeher most forbearing and most tender towards the weak and the guilty. Thisletter, with all the rest of Lady Byron's, was returned to the hands ofher executors after her death. Its publication would greatly assist theworld in understanding the peculiarities of its writer's character. 

Lady Byron passed to a higher life in 1860. {105} After her death, Ilooked for the publication of her Memoir and Letters as the event thatshould give her the same opportunity of being known and judged by herlife and writings that had been so freely accorded to Lord Byron. 

She was, in her husband's estimation, a woman of genius. She was thefriend of many of the first men and women of her times, and correspondedwith them on topics of literature, morals, religion, and, above all, onthe benevolent and philanthropic movements of the day, whose principlesshe had studied with acute observation, and in connection with which shehad acquired a large experience. 

The knowledge of her, necessarily diffused by such a series of letters, would have created in America a comprehension of her character, of itselfsufficient to wither a thousand slanders. 

Such a Memoir was contemplated. Lady Byron's letters to Mrs. Follen wereasked for from Boston; and I was applied to by a person in England, who Ihave recently learned is one of the existing trustees of Lady Byron'spapers, to furnish copies of her letters to me for the purpose of aMemoir. Before I had time to have copies made, another letter came, stating that the trustees had concluded that it was best not to publishany Memoir of Lady Byron at all. 

This left the character of Lady Byron in our American world preciselywhere the slanders of her husband, the literature of the Noctes Club, andthe unanimous verdict of May Fair as recorded by 'Blackwood, ' had placedit. 

True, Lady Byron had nobly and quietly lived down these slanders inEngland by deeds that made her name revered as a saint among all thosewho valued saintliness. 

But in France and Italy, and in these United States, I have had abundantopportunity to know that Lady Byron stood judged and condemned on thetestimony of her brilliant husband, and that the feeling against her hada vivacity and intensity not to be overcome by mere allusions to avirtuous life in distant England. 

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 isfound in the Appendix of Murray's standard edition, is entirely omitted. Every other paper is carefully preserved. This one incident showed howthe tide of sympathy was setting in this New World. Of course, there isno stronger power than a virtuous life; but, for a virtuous life to beartestimony to the world, its details must be told, so that the world mayknow them. 

Suppose the memoirs of Clarkson and Wilberforce had been suppressed aftertheir death, how soon might the coming tide have wiped out the record oftheir bravery and philanthropy! Suppose the lives of Francis Xavier andHenry Martyn had never been written, and we had lost the remembrance ofwhat holy men could do and dare in the divine enthusiasm of Christianfaith! Suppose we had no Fenelon, no Book of Martyrs!

Would there not be an outcry through all the literary and artistic worldif a perfect statue were allowed to remain buried for ever because somepainful individual history was connected with its burial and itsrecovery? But is not a noble life a greater treasure to mankind than anywork of art?

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 Lady Byron's Autobiography in her life andletters; and the suppression of them is the root of this whole mischief. 

We do not in this intend to censure the parties who came to thisdecision. 

The descendants of Lady Byron revere her memory, as they have everyreason to do. That it was their desire to have a Memoir of herpublished, I have been informed by an individual of the highest characterin England, who obtained the information directly from Lady Byron'sgrandchildren. 

But the trustees in whose care the papers were placed drew back onexamination of them, and declared, that, as Lady Byron's papers could notbe fully published, they should regret anything that should call publicattention once more to the discussion of her history. 

Reviewing this long history of the way in which the literary world hadtreated Lady Byron, we cannot wonder that her friends should have doubtedwhether there was left on earth any justice, or sense that anything isdue to woman as a human being with human rights. Evidently this lessonhad taken from them all faith in the moral sense of the world. Ratherthan re-awaken the discussion, so unsparing, so painful, and soindelicate, which had been carried on so many years around that lovedform, now sanctified by death, they sacrificed the dear pleasure of thememorials, and the interests of mankind, who have an indefeasible rightto all the help that can be got from the truth of history as to theliving power of virtue, and the reality of that great victory thatovercometh the world. 

There are thousands of poor victims suffering in sadness, discouragement, and poverty; heart-broken wives of brutal, drunken husbands; womenenduring nameless wrongs and horrors which the delicacy of their sexforbids them to utter, --to whom the lovely letters lying hidden awayunder those seals might bring courage and hope from springs not of thisworld. 

But though the friends of Lady Byron, perhaps from despair of their kind, from weariness of the utter injustice done her, wished to cherish hername in silence, and to confine the story of her virtues to that circlewho knew her too well to ask a proof, or utter a doubt, the partisans ofLord Byron were embarrassed with no such scruple. 

Lord Byron had artfully contrived during his life to place his wife insuch an antagonistic position with regard to himself, that his intimatefriends were forced to believe that one of the two had deliberately andwantonly injured the other. The published statement of Lady Byroncontradicted boldly and point-blank all the statement of her husbandconcerning the separation; so that, unless she was convicted as a falsewitness, he certainly was. 

The best evidence of this is Christopher North's own shocked, astonishedstatement, and the words of the Noctes Club. 

The noble life that Lady Byron lived after this hushed every voice, andsilenced even the most desperate calumny, while she was in the world. Inthe face of Lady Byron as the world saw her, of what use was the talk ofClytemnestra, and the assertion that she had been a mean, deceitfulconspirator against her husband's honour in life, and stabbed his memoryafter death?

But when she was in her grave, when her voice and presence and good deedsno more spoke for her, and a new generation was growing up that knew hernot; then was the time selected to revive the assault on her memory, andto say over her grave what none would ever have dared to say of her whileliving. 

During these last two years, I have been gradually awakening to theevidence of a new crusade against the memory of Lady Byron, whichrespected no sanctity, --not even that last and most awful one of death. 

Nine years after her death, when it was fully understood that no story onher side or that of her friends was to be forthcoming, then hercalumniators raked out from the ashes of her husband's sepulchre all hisbitter charges, to state them over in even stronger and more indecentforms. 

There seems to be reason to think that the materials supplied by LordByron for such a campaign yet exist in society. 

To 'The Noctes' of November 1824, there is the following note apropos toa discussion of the Byron question:--

 '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. '

Thus speaks Mackenzie in a note to a volume of 'The Noctes, ' published inAmerica in 1854. Lady Byron died in 1860. 

Nine years after Lady Byron's death, when it was ascertained that herstory was not to see the light, when there were no means of judging hercharacter by her own writings, commenced a well-planned set of operationsto turn the public attention once more to Lord Byron, and to representhim as an injured man, whose testimony had been unjustly suppressed. 

It was quite possible, supposing copies of the Autobiography to exist, that this might occasion a call from the generation of to-day, in answerto which the suppressed work might appear. This was a rather delicateoperation to commence; but the instrument was not wanting. It wasnecessary that the subject should be first opened by some irresponsibleparty, whom more powerful parties might, as by accident, recognise andpatronise, and on whose weakness they might build something stronger. 

Just such an instrument was to be found in Paris. The mistress of LordByron could easily be stirred up and flattered to come before the worldwith a book which should re-open the whole controversy; and she proved afacile tool. At first, the work appeared prudently in French, and wascalled 'Lord Byron juge par les Temoins de sa Vie, ' and was rather afailure. Then it was translated into English, and published by Bentley. 

The book was inartistic, and helplessly, childishly stupid as to anyliterary merits, --a mere mass of gossip and twaddle; but after all, whenone remembers the taste of the thousands of circulating-library readers, it must not be considered the less likely to be widely read on thataccount. It is only once in a century that a writer of real genius hasthe art to tell his story so as to take both the cultivated few and theaverage many. De Foe and John Bunyan are almost the only examples. Butthere is a certain class of reading that sells and spreads, and exerts avast influence, which the upper circles of literature despise too muchever to fairly estimate its power. 

However, the Guiccioli book did not want for patrons in the high placesof literature. The 'Blackwood'--the old classic magazine of England; thedefender of conservatism and aristocracy; the paper of Lockhart, Wilson, Hogg, Walter Scott, and a host of departed grandeurs--was deputed tousher into the world this book, and to recommend it and its author to theChristian public of the nineteenth century. 

The following is the manner in which 'Blackwood' calls attention to it:--

 'One of the most beautiful of the songs of Beranger 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:--

 'Lorsque les yeux chercheront sous vos rides Les traits charmants qui m'auront inspire, Des doux recits les jeunes gens avides, Diront: Quel fut cet ami tant pleure? De men amour peignez, s'il est possible, Vardeur, l'ivresse, et meme les soupcons, Et bonne vieille, an coin d'un feu paisible De votre ami repetez les chansons. "On vous dira: Savait-il etre aimable? Et sans rougir vous direz: Je l'aimais. D'un trait mechant se montra-t-il capable? Avec orgueil vous repondrez: Jamais!'"

 'This charming picture, ' 'Blackwood' goes on to say, 'has been realised in the case of a poet greater than Beranger, 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 juge par les Temoins 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. 

 'When, however, the book is regarded as the avowed production of the Countess Guiccioli, it derives value and interest from its very faults. {113} 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. 

 '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. '

This, then, is the introduction which one of the oldest and mostclassical periodicals of Great Britain gives to a very stupid book, simply because it was written by Lord Byron's mistress. That fact, weare assured, lends grace even to its faults. 

Having brought the authoress upon the stage, the review now goes on todefine her position, and assure the Christian world that

 '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. "'

It has been asserted that the Marquis de Boissy, the late husband of thisGuiccioli lady, was in the habit of introducing her in fashionablecircles as 'the Marquise de Boissy, my wife, formerly mistress to LordByron'! We do not give the story as a verity; yet, in the review of thiswhole history, we may be pardoned for thinking it quite possible. 

The mistress, being thus vouched for and presented as worthy of sympathyand attention by one of the oldest and most classic organs of Englishliterature, may now proceed in her work of glorifying the popular idol, and casting abuse on the grave of the dead wife. 

Her attacks on Lady Byron are, to be sure, less skilful and adroit thanthose of Lord Byron. They want his literary polish and tact; but what ofthat? 'Blackwood' assures us that even the faults of manner derive apeculiar grace from the fact that the narrator is Lord Byron's mistress;and so we suppose the literary world must find grace in things likethis:--

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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!'

In a note is added, --

 '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. '

The book has several chapters devoted to Lord Byron's peculiar virtues;and under the one devoted to magnanimity and heroism, his forgivingdisposition receives special attention. The climax of all is stated tobe that he forgave Lady Byron. All the world knew that, since he haddeclared this fact in a very noisy and impassioned manner in the fourthcanto of 'Childe Harold, ' together with a statement of the wrongs whichhe forgave; but the Guiccioli thinks his virtue, at this period, has notbeen enough appreciated. In her view, it rose to the sublime. She saysof Lady Byron, --

 '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. '

With like vivacity and earnestness does the narrator now proceed to makean incarnate angel of her subject by the simple process of denyingeverything that he himself ever confessed, --everything that has ever beenconfessed in regard to him by his best friends. He has been in the worldas an angel unawares from his cradle. His guardian did not properlyappreciate him, and is consequently mentioned as that wicked LordCarlisle. Thomas Moore is never to be sufficiently condemned for thefacts told in his biography. Byron's own frank and lawless admissions ofevil are set down to a peculiar inability he had for speaking the truthabout himself, --sometimes about his near relations; all which does not inthe least discourage the authoress from giving a separate chapter on'Lord Byron's Love of Truth. '

In the matter of his relations with women, she complacently repeats (whatsounds rather oddly as coming from her) Lord Byron's own assurance, thathe never seduced a woman; and also the equally convincing statement, thathe had told her (the Guiccioli) that his married fidelity to his wife wasperfect. She discusses Moore's account of the mistress in boy's clotheswho used to share Byron's apartments in college, and ride with him toraces, and whom he presented to ladies as his brother. 

She has her own view of this matter. The disguised boy was a lady ofrank and fashion, who sought Lord Byron's chambers, as, we are informed, noble ladies everywhere, both in Italy and England, were constantly inthe habit of doing; throwing themselves at his feet, and imploringpermission to become his handmaids. 

In the authoress's own words, 'Feminine overtures still continued to bemade to Lord Byron; but the fumes of incense never hid from his sight hisIDEAL. ' We are told that in the case of these poor ladies, generally'disenchantment took place on his side without a corresponding result onthe other: THENCE many heart-breakings. ' Nevertheless, we are informedthat there followed the indiscretions of these ladies 'none of thoseproceedings that the world readily forgives, but which his feelings as aman of honour would have condemned. '

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 thisand that occasion were found to be the sole means of sustenance to thisethereal creature. 

As to the story of using his wife's money, the lady gives, directly inthe face of his own Letters and Journal, the same account given before byMedwin, and which caused such merriment when talked over in the NoctesClub, --that he had with her only a marriage portion of 10, 000 pounds; andthat, on the separation, he not only paid it back, but doubled it. {119}

So on the authoress goes, sowing right and left the most transparentabsurdities and misstatements with what Carlyle well calls 'a composedstupidity, and a cheerful infinitude of ignorance. ' Who should know, ifnot she, to be sure? Had not Byron told her all about it? and was nothis family motto Crede Byron?

The 'Blackwood, ' having a dim suspicion that this confused style ofattack and defence in reference to the two parties under considerationmay not have great weight, itself proceeds to make the book an occasionfor re-opening the controversy of Lord Byron with his wife. 

The rest of the review devoted to a powerful attack on Lady Byron'scharacter, the most fearful attack on the memory of a dead woman we haveever seen made by living man. The author proceeds, like a lawyer, togather up, arrange, and restate, in a most workmanlike manner, theconfused accusations of the book. 

Anticipating the objection, that such a re-opening of the inquiry was aviolation of the privacy due to womanhood and to the feelings of asurviving family, he says, that though marriage usually is a privatematter which the world has no right to intermeddle with or discuss, yet--

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. '

Here the writer proceeds to put together all the facts of Lady Byron'scase, just as an adverse lawyer would put them as against her, and forher husband. The plea is made vigorously and ably, and with an air ofindignant severity, as of an honest advocate who is thoroughly convincedthat he is pleading the cause of a wronged man who has been ruined inname, shipwrecked in life, and driven to an early grave, by the arts of abad woman, --a woman all the more horrible that her malice was disguisedunder the cloak of religion. 

Having made an able statement of facts, adroitly leaving out ONE, {121}of which he could not have been ignorant had he studied the casecarefully enough to know all the others, he proceeds to sum up againstthe criminal thus:--

 '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. 

 '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

 "The significant eye, Which learns to lie with silence, --"

 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. 

 'Lady Byron has been called

 "The moral Clytemnestra of her lord. "

 The "moral Brinvilliers" would have been a truer designation. 

 '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. 

 "She dies and makes no sign. O God! forgive her. "'

As we have been obliged to review accusations on Lady Byron founded onold Greek tragedy, so now we are forced to abridge a passage from amodern conversations-lexicon, that we may understand what sort ofcomparisons are deemed in good taste in a conservative English review, when speaking of ladies of rank in their graves. 

Under the article 'Brinvilliers, ' we find as follows:--

 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. '

People have made loud outcries lately, both in America and England, aboutviolating the repose of the dead. We should like to know what they callthis. Is this, then, what they mean by respecting the dead?

Let any man imagine a leading review coming out with language equallybrutal about his own mother, or any dear and revered friend. 

Men of America, men of England, what do you think of this?

When Lady Byron was publicly branded with the names of the foulestancient and foulest modern assassins, and Lord Byron's mistress waspublicly taken by the hand, and encouraged to go on and prosper in herslanders, by one of the oldest and most influential British reviews, whatwas said and what was done in England?

That is a question we should be glad to have answered. Nothing was donethat ever reached us across the water. 

And why was nothing done? Is this language of a kind to be passed overin silence?

Was it no offence to the house of Wentworth to attack the pure characterof its late venerable head, and to brand her in her sacred grave with thename of one of the vilest of criminals?

Might there not properly have been an indignant protest of familysolicitors against this insult to the person and character of theBaroness Wentworth?

If virtue went for nothing, benevolence for nothing, a long life ofservice to humanity for nothing, one would at least have thought, that, in aristocratic countries, rank might have had its rights to decentconsideration, and its guardians to rebuke the violation of those rights. 

We Americans understand little of the advantages of rank; but we didunderstand that it secured certain decorums to people, both while livingand when in their graves. From Lady Byron's whole history, in life andin death, it would appear that we were mistaken. 

What a life was hers! Was ever a woman more evidently desirous of thedelicate and secluded privileges of womanhood, of the sacredness ofindividual privacy? Was ever a woman so rudely dragged forth, andexposed to the hardened, vulgar, and unfeeling gaze of merecuriosity?--her maiden secrets of love thrown open to be handled byroues; the sanctities of her marriage-chamber desecrated by leeringsatyrs; her parents and best friends traduced and slandered, till oneindignant public protest was extorted from her, as by the rack, --aprotest which seems yet to quiver in every word with the indignation ofoutraged womanly delicacy!

Then followed coarse blame and coarser comment, --blame for speaking atall, and blame for not speaking more. One manly voice, raised for her inhonourable protest, was silenced and overborne by the universal roar ofridicule and reprobation; and henceforth what refuge? Only thisremained: 'Let them that suffer according to the will of God commit thekeeping of their souls to him as to a faithful Creator. '

Lady Byron turned to this refuge in silence, and filled up her life witha noble record of charities and humanities. So pure was she, sochildlike, so artless, so loving, that those who knew her best, feel, tothis day, that a memorial of her is like the relic of a saint. And couldnot all this preserve her grave from insult? O England, England!

I speak in sorrow of heart to those who must have known, loved, andrevered Lady Byron, and ask them, Of what were you thinking when youallowed a paper of so established literary rank as the 'Blackwood, ' topresent and earnestly recommend to our New World such a compendium oflies as the Guiccioli book?

Is the great English-speaking community, whose waves toss from Maine toCalifornia, and whose literature is yet to come back in a thousand voicesto you, a thing to be so despised?

If, as the solicitors of the Wentworth family observe, you might beentitled to treat with silent contempt the slanders of a mistress againsta wife, was it safe to treat with equal contempt the indorsement andrecommendation of those slanders by one of your oldest and most powerfulliterary authorities?

No European magazine has ever had the weight and circulation in Americathat the 'Blackwood' has held. In the days of my youth, when New Englandwas a comparatively secluded section of the earth, the wit and genius ofthe 'Noctes Ambrosianae' were in the mouths of men and maidens, even inour most quiet mountain-towns. There, years ago, we saw all Lady Byron'sprivate affairs discussed, and felt the weight of Christopher North'sdecisions against her. Shelton Mackenzie, in his American edition, speaks of the American circulation of 'Blackwood' being greater than thatin England. {126} It was and is now reprinted monthly; and, besidesthat, 'Littell's Magazine' reproduces all its striking articles, and theycome with the weight of long established position. From the very factthat it has long been considered the Tory organ, and the supporter ofaristocratic orders, all its admissions against the character ofindividuals in the privileged classes have a double force. 

When 'Blackwood, ' therefore, boldly denounces a lady of high rank as amodern Brinvilliers, and no sensation is produced, and no remonstrancefollows, what can people in the New World suppose, but that Lady Byron'scharacter was a point entirely given up; that her depravity was so wellestablished and so fully conceded, that nothing was to be said, and thateven the defenders of aristocracy were forced to admit it?

I have been blamed for speaking on this subject without consulting LadyByron's friends, trustees, and family. More than ten years had elapsedsince 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 tolearn, for the first time, by the solicitors' letters, that there weretrustees, who held in their hands all Lady Byron's carefully preparedproofs and documents, by which this falsehood might immediately have beenrefuted. 

If they had spoken, they might have saved all this confusion. Even ifbound by restrictions for a certain period of time, they still might havecalled on a Christian public to frown down such a cruel and indecentattack on the character of a noble lady who had been a benefactress to somany in England. They might have stated that the means of whollyrefuting the slanders of the 'Blackwood' were in their hands, and onlydelayed in coming forth from regard to the feelings of some in thisgeneration. Then might they not have announced her Life and Letters, that the public might have the same opportunity as themselves for knowingand judging Lady Byron by her own writings?

Had this been done, I had been most happy to have remained silent. Ihave been astonished that any one should have supposed this speaking onmy part to be anything less than it is, --the severest act ofself-sacrifice that one friend can perform for another, and the mostsolemn and difficult tribute to justice that a human being can be calledupon to render. 

I have been informed that the course I have taken would be contrary tothe wishes of my friend. I think otherwise. I know her strong sense ofjustice, and her reverence for truth. Nothing ever moved her to speak tothe 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 vindicatetheir memory from insult: I am therefore compelled to break the silence Ihad hoped always to have observed. '

If there was any near relative to vindicate Lady Byron's memory, I had noevidence of the fact; and I considered the utter silence to be strongevidence to the contrary. In all the storm of obloquy and rebuke thathas raged in consequence of my speaking, I have had two unspeakablesources of joy; first, that they could not touch her; and, second, thatthey could not blind the all-seeing God. It is worth being in darknessto see the stars. 

It has been said that I have drawn on Lady Byron's name greater obloquythan ever before. I deny the charge. Nothing fouler has been assertedof her than the charges in the 'Blackwood, ' because nothing fouler couldbe asserted. No satyr's hoof has ever crushed this pearl deeper in themire than the hoof of the 'Blackwood, ' but none of them have defiled itor trodden it so deep that God cannot find it in the day 'when he makethup his jewels. '

I have another word, as an American, to say about the contempt shown toour great people in thus suffering the materials of history to befalsified to subserve the temporary purposes of family feeling inEngland. 

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. Hebelongs to the world for which he wrote, to which he appealed, and beforewhich he dragged his reluctant, delicate wife to a publicity equal withhis own: the world has, therefore, a right to judge him. 

We Americans have been made accessories, after the fact, to every insultand injury that Lord Byron and the literary men of his day have heapedupon Lady Byron. We have been betrayed into injustice and a complicitywith villainy. After Lady Byron had nobly lived down slanders inEngland, and died full of years and honours, the 'Blackwood' takesoccasion to re-open the controversy by recommending a book full ofslanders to a rising generation who knew nothing of the past. What wasthe consequence in America? My attention was first called to the result, not by reading the 'Blackwood' article, but by finding in a popularmonthly magazine two long articles, --the one an enthusiasticrecommendation of the Guiccioli book, and the other a lamentation overthe burning of the Autobiography as a lost chapter in history. 

Both articles represented Lady Byron as a cold, malignant, mean, persecuting woman, who had been her husband's ruin. They were so full offalsehoods and misstatements as to astonish me. Not long after, aliterary friend wrote to me, 'Will you, can you, reconcile it to yourconscience to sit still and allow that mistress so to slander thatwife, --you, perhaps, the only one knowing the real facts, and able to setthem forth?'

Upon this, I immediately began collecting and reading the variousarticles and the book, and perceived that the public of this generationwere in a way of having false history created, uncontradicted, undertheir own eyes. 

I claim for my countrymen and women, our right to true history. Foryears, the popular literature has held up publicly before our eyes thefacts as to this man and this woman, and called on us to praise orcondemn. Let us have truth when we are called on to judge. It is ourright. 

There is no conceivable obligation on a human being greater than that ofabsolute justice. It is the deepest personal injury to an honourablemind to be made, through misrepresentation, an accomplice in injustice. When a noble name is accused, any person who possesses truth which mightclear it, and withholds that truth, is guilty of a sin against humannature and the inalienable rights of justice. I claim that I have notonly a right, but an obligation, to bring in my solemn testimony uponthis subject. 

For years and years, the silence-policy has been tried; and what has itbrought forth? As neither word nor deed could be proved against LadyByron, her silence has been spoken of as a monstrous, unnatural crime, 'apoisonous miasma, ' in which she enveloped the name of her husband. 

Very well; since silence is the crime, I thought I would tell the worldthat Lady Byron had spoken. 

Christopher North, years ago, when he condemned her for speaking, saidthat she should speak further, --

'She should speak, or some one for her. One word would suffice. '

That one word has been spoken. 

PART II. 

CHAPTER I. LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 

An editorial in The London Times' of Sept. 18 says:--

 '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. '

In reply to this, I will say, that in my article I gave a brief synopsisof the subject-matter of Lady Byron's communications; and I think it mustbe quite evident to the world that the main fact on which the story turnswas one which could not possibly be misunderstood, and the remembrance ofwhich no lapse of time could ever weaken. 

Lady Byron's communications were made to me in language clear, precise, terrible; and many of her phrases and sentences I could repeat at thisday, word for word. But if I had reproduced them at first, as 'TheTimes' suggests, word for word, the public horror and incredulity wouldhave been doubled. It was necessary that the brutality of the storyshould, in some degree, be veiled and softened. 

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 wholehistory, the revelations in Lady Anne's account, and the story related byLady Byron, are like fragments of a dissected map: they fit together, piece by piece, and form one connected whole. 

In confirmation of the general facts of this interview, I have thetestimony of a sister who accompanied me on this visit, and to whom, immediately after it, I recounted the story. 

Her testimony on the subject is as follows:--

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 'Your sister, 'M. F. PERKINS. '

I am now about to complete the account of my conversation with LadyByron; but as the credibility of a history depends greatly on thecharacter of its narrator, and as especial pains have been taken todestroy the belief in this story by representing it to be the wanderingsof a broken-down mind in a state of dotage and mental hallucination, Ishall preface the narrative with some account of Lady Byron as she wasduring the time of our mutual acquaintance and friendship. 

This account may, perhaps, be deemed superfluous in England, where somany knew her; but in America, where, from Maine to California, hercharacter has been discussed and traduced, it is of importance to giveinterested thousands an opportunity of learning what kind of a woman LadyByron was. 

Her character as given by Lord Byron in his Journal, after her firstrefusal of him, is this:--

 '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. '

Such was Lady Byron at twenty. I formed her acquaintance in the year1853, during my first visit in England. I met her at a lunch-party inthe house of one of her friends. 

The party had many notables; but, among them all, my attention was fixedprincipally on Lady Byron. She was at this time sixty-one years of age, but still had, to a remarkable degree, that personal attraction which iscommonly considered to belong only to youth and beauty. 

Her form was slight, giving an impression of fragility; her motions wereboth graceful and decided; her eyes bright, and full of interest andquick observation. Her silvery-white hair seemed to lend a grace to thetransparent purity of her complexion, and her small hands had a pearlywhiteness. I recollect she wore a plain widow's cap of a transparentmaterial; and was dressed in some delicate shade of lavender, whichharmonised well with her complexion. 

When I was introduced to her, I felt in a moment the words of herhusband:--

 'There was awe in the homage that she drew; Her spirit seemed as seated on a throne. '

Calm, self-poised, and thoughtful, she seemed to me rather to resemble aninterested spectator of the world's affairs, than an actor involved inits trials; yet the sweetness of her smile, and a certain very delicatesense of humour in her remarks, made the way of acquaintance easy. 

Her first remarks were a little playful; but in a few moments we werespeaking on what every one in those days was talking to me about, --theslavery question in America. 

It need not be remarked, that, when any one subject especially occupiesthe public mind, those known to be interested in it are compelled tolisten to many weary platitudes. Lady Byron's remarks, however, caughtmy ear and arrested my attention by their peculiar incisive quality, their originality, and the evidence they gave that she was as wellinformed on all our matters as the best American statesman could be. Ihad no wearisome course to go over with her as to the difference betweenthe General Government and State Governments, nor explanations of theUnited States Constitution; for she had the whole before her mind with aperfect clearness. Her morality upon the slavery question, too, impressed me as something far higher and deeper than the commonsentimentalism of the day. Many of her words surprised me greatly, andgave me new material for thought. 

I found I was in company with a commanding mind, and hastened to gaininstruction 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 theseworks I had gathered, that under the apparent placid uniformity of theEstablished Church of England, and of 'good society' as founded on it, there was moving a secret current of speculative enquiry, doubt, anddissent; but I had met, as yet, with no person among my variousacquaintances in England who seemed either aware of this fact, or able toguide my mind respecting it. The moment I mentioned the subject to LadyByron, I received an answer which showed me that the whole ground wasfamiliar to her, and that she was capable of giving me full information. She had studied with careful thoughtfulness all the social and religioustendencies of England during her generation. One of her remarks hasoften since occurred to me. Speaking of the Oxford movement, she saidthe time had come when the English Church could no longer remain as itwas. It must either restore the past, or create a future. The Oxfordmovement attempted the former; and of the future she was beginning tospeak, when our conversation was interrupted by the presentation of otherparties. 

Subsequently, in reply to a note from her on some benevolent business, Ialluded to that conversation, and expressed a wish that she would finishgiving me her views of the religious state of England. A portion of theletter that she wrote me in reply I insert, as being very characteristicin many respects:--

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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?

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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, 'A. I. NOEL BYRON. '

It is not necessary to prove to the reader that this letter is not in thestyle of a broken-down old woman subject to mental hallucinations. Itshows Lady Byron's habits of clear, searching analysis, herthoughtfulness, and, above all, that peculiar reverence for truth andsincerity which was a leading characteristic of her moral nature. {139}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 agradual ossification of the lungs. It has been asserted that pulmonarydiseases, while they slowly and surely sap the physical life, oftenappear to give added vigour to the play of the moral and intellectualpowers. 

I parted from Lady Byron, feeling richer in that I had found one morepearl of great price on the shore of life. 

Three years after this, I visited England to obtain a copyright for theissue of my novel of 'Dred. '

The hope of once more seeing Lady Byron was one of the brightestanticipations held out to me in this journey. I found London quitedeserted; 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 wouldvisit her. Her reply I give:--

 '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. 

 'Yours very truly, 'A. I. NOEL BYRON. '

I found Lady Byron in her sick-room, --that place which she made sodifferent from the chamber of ordinary invalids. Her sick-room seemedonly a telegraphic station whence her vivid mind was flashing out allover the world. 

By her bedside stood a table covered with books, pamphlets, and files ofletters, all arranged with exquisite order, and each expressing some ofher varied interests. From that sick-bed she still directed, withsystematic care, her various works of benevolence, and watched withintelligent attention the course of science, literature, and religion;and the versatility and activity of her mind, the flow of brilliant andpenetrating thought on all the topics of the day, gave to theconversations of her retired room a peculiar charm. You forgot that shewas an invalid; for she rarely had a word of her own personalities, andthe charm of her conversation carried you invariably from herself to thesubjects of which she was thinking. All the new books, the literature ofthe hour, were lighted up by her keen, searching, yet always kindlycriticism; and it was charming to get her fresh, genuine, clear-cut modesof expression, so different from the world-worn phrases of what is calledgood society. Her opinions were always perfectly clear and positive, andgiven with the freedom of one who has long stood in a position to judgethe world and its ways from her own standpoint. But it was not merely ingeneral literature and science that her heart lay; it was followingalways with eager interest the progress of humanity over the whole world. 

This was the period of the great battle for liberty in Kansas. TheEnglish papers were daily filled with the thrilling particulars of thatdesperate struggle, and Lady Byron entered with heart and soul into it. 

Her first letter to me, at this time, is on this subject. It was while'Dred' was going through the press. 

 'CAMBRIDGE TERRACE, Aug. 15. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 'Yours affectionately, 'A. I. NOEL BYRON. '

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 representingtoo faithfully the profane language of some of the wicked characters. Tothis she sent the following reply:--

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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

 'Yours affectionately, 'A. I. NOEL BYRON. '

I was struck in this note with the mention of Lord Byron, and, the nexttime I saw her, alluded to it, and remarked upon the peculiar qualitiesof his mind as shown in some of his more serious conversations with Dr. Kennedy. 

She seemed pleased to continue the subject, and went on to say manythings of his singular character and genius, more penetrating and moreappreciative than is often met with among critics. 

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 thenews of his death, --giving up all my plays, and going off to a lonelyhillside, where I spent the afternoon thinking of him. She interruptedme before I had quite finished, with a quick, impulsive movement. 'Iknow all that, ' she said: 'I heard it all from Mrs. ---; and it was oneof the things that made me wish to know you. I think you couldunderstand him. ' We talked for some time of him then; she, with her paleface slightly flushed, speaking, as any other great man's widow might, only of what was purest and best in his works, and what were hisundeniable virtues and good traits, especially in early life. She toldme many pleasant little speeches made by him to herself; and, thoughthere was running through all this a shade of melancholy, one could neverhave conjectured that there were under all any deeper recollections thanthe circumstances of an ordinary separation might bring. 

Not many days after, with the unselfishness which was so marked a traitwith her, she chose a day when she could be out of her room, and invitedour family party, consisting of my husband, sister, and children, tolunch with her. 

What showed itself especially in this interview was her tenderness forall young people. She had often enquired after mine; asked about theircharacters, habits, and tastes; and on this occasion she found anopportunity to talk with each one separately, and to make them all feelat ease, so that they were able to talk with her. She seemed interestedto point out to them what they should see and study in London; and thecharm of her conversation left on their minds an impression thatsubsequent years have never effaced. I record this incident, because itshows how little Lady Byron assumed the privileges or had the characterof an invalid absorbed in herself, and likely to brood over her own woesand wrongs. 

Here was a family of strangers stranded in a dull season in London, andthere was no manner of obligation upon her to exert herself to show themattention. Her state of health would have been an all-sufficient reasonwhy she should not do it; and her doing it was simply a specimen of thatunselfish care for others, even down to the least detail, of which herlife was full. 

A little while after, at her request, I went, with my husband and son, topass an evening at her house. 

There were a few persons present whom she thought I should be interestedto know, --a Miss Goldsmid, daughter of Baron Goldsmid, and Lord Ockham, her grandson, eldest son and heir of the Earl of Lovelace, to whom sheintroduced my son. 

I had heard much of the eccentricities of this young nobleman, and wasexceedingly struck with his personal appearance. His bodily frame was ofthe order of the Farnese Hercules, --a wonderful development of physicaland muscular strength. His hands were those of a blacksmith. He wasbroadly and squarely made, with a finely-shaped head, and dark eyes ofsurpassing brilliancy. I have seldom seen a more interesting combinationthan his whole appearance presented. 

When all were engaged in talking, Lady Byron came and sat down by me, andglancing across to Lord Ockham and my son, who were talking together, shelooked at me, and smiled. I immediately expressed my admiration of hisfine eyes and the intellectual expression of his countenance, and mywonder at the uncommon muscular development of his frame. 

She said that that of itself would account for many of Ockham'seccentricities. He had a body that required a more vigorous animal lifethan his station gave scope for, and this had often led him to seek it inwhat 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 GreatEastern. ' He had laid aside his title, and went in daily with the otherworkmen, requesting them to call him simply Ockham. 

I said that there was something to my mind very fine about this, eventhough it might show some want of proper balance. 

She said he had noble traits, and that she felt assured he would yetaccomplish something worthy of himself. 'The great difficulty with ournobility is apt to be, that they do not understand the working-classes, so as to feel for them properly; and Ockham is now going through anexperience which may yet fit him to do great good when he comes to thepeerage. I am trying to influence him to do good among the workmen, andto interest himself in schools for their children. I think, ' she added, 'I have great influence over Ockham, --the greater, perhaps, that I nevermake any claim to authority. '

This conversation is very characteristic of Lady Byron as showing herbenevolent analysis of character, and the peculiar hopefulness she alwayshad in regard to the future of every one brought in connection with her. Her moral hopefulness was something very singular; and in this respectshe was so different from the rest of the world, that it would bedifficult to make her understood. Her tolerance of wrong-doing wouldhave seemed to many quite latitudinarian, and impressed them as if shehad lost all just horror of what was morally wrong in transgression; butit seemed her fixed habit to see faults only as diseases andimmaturities, and to expect them to fall away with time. 

She saw the germs of good in what others regarded as only evil. Sheexpected valuable results to come from what the world looked on only aseccentricities; {147} and she incessantly devoted herself to the task ofguarding those whom the world condemned, and guiding them to those higherresults of which she often thought that even their faults were prophetic. 

Before I quit this sketch of Lady Byron as I knew her, I will give onemore of her letters. My return from that visit in Europe was met by thesudden death of the son mentioned in the foregoing account. At the timeof this sorrow, Lady Byron was too unwell to write to me. The lettergiven alludes to this event, and speaks also of two coloured persons ofremarkable talent, in whose career in England she had taken a deepinterest. One of them is the 'friend' she speaks of. 

 'LONDON, Feb. 6, 1859. 

 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. 

 '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. 

 '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. {148} 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. 

 '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. "

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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!

 'Your affectionate

 'A. I. N. B. '

One letter more from Lady Byron I give, --the last I received from her:--

 LONDON, May 3, 1859. 

 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. 

 '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. 

 'I have an intense interest in your new novel. {149} 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. 

 '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?

 '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. 

 '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. 

 'I have just missed Dale Owen, with whom I wished to have conversed on spiritualism. {150} Harris is lecturing here on religion. I do not hear him praised. 

 '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. 

 'June 1. 

 '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. 

 'Ever yours, 'A. I. NOEL BYRON. '

Shortly after, I was in England again, and had one more opportunity ofresuming our personal intercourse. The first time that I called on LadyByron, I saw her in one of those periods of utter physical exhaustion towhich she was subject on account of the constant pressure of cares beyondher strength. All who knew her will testify, that, in a state of healthwhich would lead most persons to become helpless absorbents of servicefrom others, she was assuming burdens, and making outlays of her vitalpowers in acts of love and service, with a generosity that often reducedher to utter exhaustion. But none who knew or loved her evermisinterpreted the coldness of those seasons of exhaustion. We knew thatit was not the spirit that was chilled, but only the frail mortaltabernacle. When I called on her at this time, she could not see me atfirst; and when, at last, she came, it was evident that she was in astate of utter prostration. Her hands were like ice; her face was deadlypale; and she conversed with a restraint and difficulty which showed whatexertion 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 onearth with her, and is still beautiful in memory. It was a long, stillsummer afternoon, spent alone with her in a garden, where we walkedtogether. She was enjoying one of those bright intervals of freedom frompain and languor, in which her spirits always rose so buoyant andyouthful; and her eye brightened, and her step became elastic. 

One last little incident is cherished as most expressive of her. When itbecame 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 leftthem; but there is not time to go back. '

With one of those quick, impulsive motions which were so natural to herin doing a kindness, she drew off her own and said, 'Take mine if theywill serve you. '

I hesitated a moment; and then the thought, that I might never see heragain, came over me, and I said, 'Oh, yes! thanks. ' That was the lastearthly word of love between us. But, thank God, those who love worthilynever meet for the last time: there is always a future. 

CHAPTER II. LADY BYRON'S STORY AS TOLD ME. 

I now come to the particulars of that most painful interview which hasbeen the cause of all this controversy. My sister and myself were goingfrom London to Eversley to visit the Rev. C. Kingsley. On our way, westopped, by Lady Byron's invitation, to lunch with her at her summerresidence on Ham Common, near Richmond; and it was then arranged, that onour return, we should make her a short visit, as she said she had asubject of importance on which she wished to converse with me alone. 

On our return from Eversley, we arrived at her house in the morning. 

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 fullof little acts of consideration for all about her as if they were thehabitual invalids, and she the well person. 

There were with her two ladies of her most intimate friends, by whom sheseemed to be regarded with a sort of worship. When she left the room fora moment, they looked after her with a singular expression of respect andaffection, and expressed freely their admiration of her character, andtheir fears that her unselfishness might be leading her to over-exertion. 

After lunch, I retired with Lady Byron; and my sister remained with herfriends. I should here remark, that the chief subject of theconversation which ensued was not entirely new to me. In the intervalbetween my first and second visits to England, a lady who for many yearshad enjoyed Lady Byron's friendship and confidence, had, with herconsent, stated the case generally to me, giving some of the incidents:so that I was in a manner prepared for what followed. 

Those who accuse Lady Byron of being a person fond of talking upon thissubject, and apt to make unconsidered confidences, can have known verylittle of her, of her reserve, and of the apparent difficulty she had inspeaking on subjects nearest her heart. 

Her habitual calmness and composure of manner, her collected dignity onall occasions, are often mentioned by her husband, sometimes withbitterness, sometimes with admiration. He says, 'Though I accuse LadyByron of an excess of self-respect, I must in candour admit that, if evera person had excuse for an extraordinary portion of it, she has; as, inall her thoughts, words, and deeds, she is the most decorous woman thatever existed, and must appear, what few I fancy could, a perfectlyrefined gentlewoman, even to her femme de chambre. '

This calmness and dignity were never more manifested than in thisinterview. In recalling the conversation at this distance of time, Icannot remember all the language used. Some particular words and formsof expression I do remember, and those I give; and in other cases I givemy recollection of the substance of what was said. 

There was something awful to me in the intensity of repressed emotionwhich she showed as she proceeded. The great fact upon which all turnedwas stated in words that were unmistakable:--

'He was guilty of incest with his sister!'

She here became so deathly pale, that I feared she would faint; andhastened 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. 

I then asked her some questions; in reply to which she said, 'I will tellyou. '

She then spoke of her first acquaintance with Lord Byron; from which Igathered that she, an only child, brought up in retirement, and livingmuch within herself, had been, as deep natures often were, intenselystirred by his poetry; and had felt a deep interest in him personally, asone that had the germs of all that is glorious and noble. 

When she was introduced to him, and perceived his admiration of herself, and at last received his offer, although deeply moved, she doubted herown power to be to him all that a wife should be. She declined hisoffer, therefore, but desired to retain his friendship. After this, asshe said, a correspondence ensued, mostly on moral and literary subjects;and, by this correspondence, her interest in him was constantlyincreased. 

At last, she said, he sent her a very beautiful letter, offering himselfagain. 'I thought, ' she added, 'that it was sincere, and that I mightnow show him all I felt. I wrote just what was in my heart. 

'Afterwards, ' she said, 'I found in one of his journals this notice of myletter: "A letter from Bell, --never rains but it pours. "'

There was through her habitual calm a shade of womanly indignation as shespoke these words; but it was gone in a moment. I said, 'And did he notlove you, then?' She answered, 'No, my dear: he did not love me. '

'Why, then, did he wish to marry you?' She laid her hand on mine, andsaid in a low voice, 'You will see. '

She then told me, that, shortly after the declared engagement, he came toher father's house to visit her as an accepted suitor. The visit was toher full of disappointment. His appearance was so strange, moody, andunaccountable, and his treatment of her so peculiar, that she came to theconclusion that he did not love her, and sought an opportunity toconverse with him alone. 

She told him that she saw from his manner that their engagement did notgive him pleasure; that she should never blame him if he wished todissolve it; that his nature was exceptional; and if, on a nearer view ofthe situation, he shrank from it, she would release him, and remain noless than ever his friend. 

Upon this, she said, he fainted entirely away. 

She stopped a moment, and then, as if speaking with great effort, added, 'Then I was sure he must love me. '

'And did he not?' said I. 'What other cause could have led to thisemotion?'

She looked at me very sadly, and said, 'Fear of detection. '

'What!' said I, 'did that cause then exist?'

'Yes, ' she said, 'it did. ' And she explained that she now attributedLord Byron's great agitation to fear, that, in some way, suspicion of thecrime had been aroused in her mind, and that on this account she wasseeking to break the engagement. She said, that, from that moment, hersympathies were aroused for him, to soothe the remorse and anguish whichseemed preying on his mind, and which she then regarded as thesensibility of an unusually exacting moral nature, which judged itself byhigher standards, and condemned itself unsparingly for what most youngmen of his times regarded as venial faults. She had every hope for hisfuture, and all the enthusiasm of belief that so many men and women ofthose times and ours have had in his intrinsic nobleness. She said thegloom, 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 shewas called to minister. I said to her, that, even in the days of mychildhood, I had heard of something very painful that had passed as theywere in the carriage, immediately after marriage. She then said that itwas so; that almost his first words, when they were alone, were, that shemight once have saved him; that, if she had accepted him when he firstoffered, she might have made him anything she pleased; but that, as itwas, she would find she had married a devil. 

The conversation, as recorded in Lady Anne Barnard's Diary, seems only acontinuation of the foregoing, and just what might have followed upon it. 

I then asked how she became certain of the true cause. 

She said, that, from the outset of their married life, his conducttowards her was strange and unaccountable, even during the first weeksafter the wedding, while they were visiting her friends, and outwardly ongood terms. He seemed resolved to shake and combat both her religiousprinciples and her views of the family state. He tried to undermine herfaith in Christianity as a rule of life by argument and by ridicule. Heset before her the Continental idea of the liberty of marriage; it beinga simple partnership of friendship and property, the parties to whichwere allowed by one another to pursue their own separate individualtastes. He told her, that, as he could not be expected to confinehimself to her, neither should he expect or wish that she should confineherself 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. 

She said that she did not comprehend to what this was tending till afterthey came to London, and his sister came to stay with them. 

At what precise time the idea of an improper connection between herhusband and his sister was first forced upon her, she did not say; butshe 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 astonishedher. Seeing her amazement and alarm, he came up to her, and said, in asneering tone, 'I suppose you perceive you are not wanted here. Go toyour own room, and leave us alone. We can amuse ourselves better withoutyou. '

She said, 'I went to my room, trembling. I fell down on my knees, andprayed to my heavenly Father to have mercy on them. I thought, "Whatshall I do?"'

I remember, after this, a pause in the conversation, during which sheseemed struggling with thoughts and emotions; and, for my part, I wasunable to utter a word, or ask a question. 

She did not tell me what followed immediately upon this, nor how soonafter she spoke on the subject with either of the parties. She firstbegan to speak of conversations afterwards held with Lord Byron, in whichhe boldly avowed the connection as having existed in time past, and asone that was to continue in time to come; and implied that she mustsubmit to it. She put it to his conscience as concerning his sister'ssoul, and he said that it was no sin, that it was the way the world wasfirst peopled: the Scriptures taught that all the world descended fromone pair; and how could that be unless brothers married their sisters?that, if not a sin then, it could not be a sin now. 

I immediately said, 'Why, Lady Byron, those are the very arguments givenin the drama of "Cain. "'

'The very same, ' was her reply. 'He could reason very speciously on thissubject. ' She went on to say, that, when she pressed him hard with theuniversal sentiment of mankind as to the horror and the crime, he tookanother turn, and said that the horror and crime were the veryattraction; that he had worn out all ordinary forms of sin, and that he'longed for the stimulus of a new kind of vice. ' She set before him thedread of detection; and then he became furious. She should never be themeans of his detection, he said. She should leave him; that he wasresolved upon: but she should always bear all the blame of theseparation. In the sneering tone which was common with him, he said, 'The world will believe me, and it will not believe you. The world hasmade 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 todiscredit you: I shall use all my powers. Read "Caleb Williams, " {161}and you will see that I shall do by you just as Falkland did by Caleb. '

I said that all this seemed to me like insanity. She said that she wasfor 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 sheknew not what else to think of it; that he seemed resolved to drive herout of the house at all hazards, and threatened her, if she shouldremain, in a way to alarm the heart of any woman: yet, thinking himinsane, she left him at last with the sorrow with which anyone mightleave a dear friend whose reason was wholly overthrown, and to whom inthis desolation she was no longer permitted to minister. 

I inquired in one of the pauses of the conversation whether Mrs. Leighwas a peculiarly beautiful or attractive woman. 

'No, my dear: she was plain. '

'Was she, then, distinguished for genius or talent of any kind?'

'Oh, no! Poor woman! she was weak, relatively to him, and wholly underhis control. '

'And what became of her?' I said. 

'She afterwards repented, and became a truly good woman. ' I think it washere she mentioned that she had frequently seen and conversed with Mrs. Leigh in the latter part of her life; and she seemed to derive comfortfrom the recollection. 

I asked, 'Was there a child?' I had been told by Mrs. ---- that therewas a daughter, who had lived some years. 

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 onetime this daughter escaped from her friends to the Continent, and thatLady Byron assisted in efforts to recover her. Of Lady Byron's kindnessboth to Mrs. Leigh and the child, I had before heard from Mrs. ----, whogave me my first information. 

It is also strongly impressed on my mind, that Lady Byron, in answer tosome question of mine as to whether there was ever any meeting betweenLord Byron and his sister after he left England, answered, that she hadinsisted upon it, or made it a condition, that Mrs. Leigh should not goabroad to him. 

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 ofhis death, and the message be endeavoured to utter. 

She answered quickly, and with great decision, that whatever might havebeen his meaning at that hour, she felt sure he had finally repented; andadded with great earnestness, 'I do not believe that any child of theheavenly Father is ever left to eternal sin. '

I said that such a hope was most delightful to my feelings, but that Ihad always regarded the indulgence of it as a dangerous one. 

Her look, voice, and manner, at that moment, are indelibly fixed in mymind. She looked at me so sadly, so firmly, and said, --

'Danger, Mrs. Stowe! What danger can come from indulging that hope, likethe danger that comes from not having it?'

I said in my turn, 'What danger comes from not having it?'

'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, 'whowas in a state of scepticism and despair from belief in that doctrine. Ithink I saved her by giving her my faith. '

I was silent; and she continued: 'Lord Byron believed in eternalpunishment fully: for though he reasoned against Christianity as it iscommonly received, he could not reason himself out of it; and I think itmade him desperate. He used to say, "The worst of it is I do believe. "Had he seen God as I see him, I am sure his heart would have relented. '

She went on to say, that his sins, great as they were, admitted of muchpalliation and excuse; that he was the child of singular and ill-matchedparents; that he had an organisation originally fine, but one capableequally of great good or great evil; that in his childhood he had onlythe worst and most fatal influences; that he grew up into manhood with noguide; that there was everything in the classical course of the schoolsto develop an unhealthy growth of passion, and no moral influence of anykind to restrain it; that the manners of his day were corrupt; that whatwere now considered vices in society were then spoken of as matters ofcourse among young noblemen; that drinking, gaming, and licentiousnesseverywhere abounded and that, up to a certain time, he was no worse thanmultitudes of other young men of his day, --only that the vices of his daywere worse for him. The excesses of passion, the disregard of physicallaws in eating, drinking, and living, wrought effects on him that theydid not on less sensitively organised frames, and prepared him for theevil hour when he fell into the sin which shaded his whole life. All therest was a struggle with its consequences, --sinning more and more toconceal the sin of the past. But she believed he never outlived remorse;that he always suffered; and that this showed that God had not utterlyforsaken him. Remorse, she said, always showed moral sensibility, and, while that remained, there was always hope. 

She now began to speak of her grounds for thinking it might be her dutyfully to publish this story before she left the world. 

First she said that, through the whole course of her life, she had feltthe 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. LordByron had demoralised the moral sense of England, and he had done it in agreat degree by the sympathy excited by falsehood. This had been pleadedin extenuation of all his crimes and vices, and led to a lowering of thestandard of morals in the literary world. Now it was proposed to printcheap editions of his works, and sell them among the common people, andinterest them in him by the circulation of this same story. 

She then said in effect, that she believed in retribution and sufferingin the future life, and that the consequences of sins here follow usthere; and it was strongly impressed upon her mind that Lord Byron mustsuffer in looking on the evil consequences of what he had done in thislife, and in seeing the further extension of that evil. 

'It has sometimes strongly appeared to me, ' she said, 'that he cannot beat peace until this injustice has been righted. Such is the strongfeeling that I have when I think of going where he is. '

These things, she said, had led her to inquire whether it might not beher duty to make a full and clear disclosure before she left the world. 

Of course, I did not listen to this story as one who was investigatingits worth. I received it as truth. And the purpose for which it wascommunicated was not to enable me to prove it to the world, but to ask myopinion whether she should show it to the world before leaving it. Thewhole consultation was upon the assumption that she had at her commandsuch proofs as could not be questioned. 

Concerning what they were I did not minutely inquire: only, in answer toa general question, she said that she had letters and documents in proofof her story. Knowing Lady Byron's strength of mind, herclear-headedness, her accurate habits, and her perfect knowledge of thematter, I considered her judgment on this point decisive. 

I told her that I would take the subject into consideration, and give myopinion in a few days. That night, after my sister and myself hadretired to our own apartment, I related to her the whole history, and wespent the night in talking of it. I was powerfully impressed with thejustice and propriety of an immediate disclosure; while she, on thecontrary, represented the painful consequences that would probably comeupon Lady Byron from taking such a step. 

Before we parted the next day, I requested Lady Byron to give me somememoranda of such dates and outlines of the general story as would enableme better to keep it in its connection; which she did. 

On giving me the paper, Lady Byron requested me to return it to her whenit had ceased to be of use to me for the purpose indicated. 

Accordingly, a day or two after, I enclosed it to her in a hasty note, asI was then leaving London for Paris, and had not yet had time fully toconsider the subject. 

On reviewing my note, I can recall that then the whole history appearedto me like one of those singular cases where unnatural impulses to viceare the result of a taint of constitutional insanity. This has alwaysseemed to me the only way of accounting for instances of utterlymotiveless and abnormal wickedness and cruelty. These my firstimpressions were expressed in the hasty note written at the time:--

 'LONDON, Nov. 5, 1856. 

 '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?

 'Is it not insanity?

 "Great wits to madness nearly are allied, And thin partitions do their bounds divide. "

 '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. '

The rest of the letter was taken up in the final details of a charity inwhich Lady Byron had been engaged with me in assisting an unfortunateartist. It concludes thus:--

 'I write now in all haste, en route for Paris. As to America, all is not lost yet. {168} Farewell! I love you, my dear friend, as never before, with an intense feeling I cannot easily express. God bless you!

 'H. B. S. '

The next letter is as follows:--

 'Paris, Dec. 17, 1856. 

 '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. 

 'I wrote you a day or two since, enclosing the reply of the Kansas Committee to you. 

 'On that subject on which you spoke to me the last time we were together, I have thought often and deeply. 

 '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. 

 'I would say, then, Leave all with some discreet friends, who, after both have passed from earth, shall say what was due to justice. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 'Affectionately yours, 'H. B. S. '

The following letter will here be inserted as confirming a part of LadyByron's story:--

 TO THE EDITOR OF 'MACMILLAN'S MAGAZINE. '

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 'I have the honour to be, sir, yours obediently, 'G. H. AIRD. 

 'DAOURTY, NORTHAMPTONSHIRE, Sept. 29, 1869. '

CHAPTER III. CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

I have now fulfilled as conscientiously as possible the requests of thosewho feel that they have a right to know exactly what was said in thisinterview. 

It has been my object, in doing this, to place myself just where I shouldstand were I giving evidence under oath before a legal tribunal. In myfirst published account, there were given some smaller details of thestory, of no particular value to the main purpose of it, which I receivednot from Lady Byron, but from her confidential friend. One of these wasthe account of her seeing Lord Byron's favourite spaniel lying at hisdoor, and the other was the scene of the parting. 

The first was communicated to me before I ever saw Lady Byron, and underthese circumstances:--I was invited to meet her, and had expressed mydesire to do so, because Lord Byron had been all my life an object ofgreat 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 shenever loved Lord Byron, or she would not have left him. ' The ladyanswered, 'I can show you with what feelings she left him by relatingthis story;' and then followed the anecdote. 

Subsequently, she also related to me the other story of the parting-scenebetween Lord and Lady Byron. In regard to these two incidents, myrecollection is clear. 

It will be observed by the reader that Lady Byron's conversation with mewas simply for consultation on one point, and that point whether sheherself should publish the story before her death. It was not, therefore, a complete history of all the events in their order, butspecimens of a few incidents and facts. Her object was, not to prove herstory to me, nor to put me in possession of it with a view to my provingit, but simply and briefly to show me what it was, that I might judge asto the probable results of its publication at that time. 

It therefore comprised primarily these points:--

1. An exact statement, in so many words, of the crime. 

2. A statement of the manner in which it was first forced on herattention by Lord Byron's words and actions, including his admissions anddefences of it. 

3. The admission of a period when she had ascribed his whole conduct toinsanity. 

4. A reference to later positive evidences of guilt, the existence of achild, and Mrs. Leigh's subsequent repentance. 

And here I have a word to say in reference to the alleged inaccuracies ofmy true story. 

The dates that Lady Byron gave me on the memoranda did not relate eitherto the time of the first disclosure, or the period when her doubts becamecertainties; nor did her conversation touch either of these points: and, on a careful review of the latter, I see clearly that it omitted dwellingupon anything which I might be supposed to have learned from her alreadypublished statement. 

I re-enclosed that paper to her from London, and have never seen itsince. 

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 whichMacmillan's London edition is now before me. The reader is referred topage 316, which reads thus:--

'She was born 1792; married in January 1814; returned to her father'shouse in 1816; died on May 16, 1860. ' This makes her married life twoyears; but we need not say that the date is inaccurate, as Lady Byron wasmarried in 1815. 

Supposing Lady Byron's married life to have covered two years, I couldonly reconcile its continuance for that length of time to her uncertaintyas to his sanity; to deceptions practised on her, making her doubt at onetime, and believe at another; and his keeping her in a general state ofturmoil and confusion, till at last he took the step of banishing her. 

Various other points taken from Miss Martineau have also been attacked asinaccuracies; for example, the number of executions in the house: butthese points, though of no importance, are substantially borne out byMoore's statements. 

This controversy, unfortunately, cannot be managed with the accuracy of alegal trial. Its course, hitherto, has rather resembled the course of adrawing-room scandal, where everyone freely throws in an assertion, withor without proof. In making out my narrative, however, I shall use onlycertain authentic sources, some of which have for a long time been beforethe public, and some of which have floated up from the waves of therecent controversy. I consider as authentic sources, --

Moore's Life of Byron;

Lady Byron's own account of the separation, published in 1830;

Lady Byron's statements to me in 1856;

Lord Lindsay's communication, giving an extract from Lady Anne Barnard'sdiary, and a copy of a letter from Lady Byron dated 1818, about threeyears after her marriage;

Mrs. Mimms' testimony, as given in a daily paper published at Newcastle, England;

And Lady Byron's letters, as given recently in the late 'LondonQuarterly. '

All which documents appear to arrange themselves into a connected series. 

From these, then, let us construct the story. 

According to Mrs. Mimms' account, which is likely to be accurate, thetime spent by Lord and Lady Byron in bridal-visiting was three weeks atHalnaby Hall, and six weeks at Seaham, when Mrs. Mimms quitted theirservice. 

During this first period of three weeks, Lord Byron's treatment of hiswife, as testified to by the servant, was such that she advised her youngmistress to return to her parents; and, at one time, Lady Byron hadalmost resolved to do so. 

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 receivedand was received by Lord Byron's sister with the greatest affection. LadyByron herself says to Lady Anne Barnard, 'I had heard that he was thebest of brothers;' and the inference is, that she, at an early period ofher married life, felt the greatest confidence in his sister, and wishedto have her with them as much as possible. In Lady Anne's account, thiswish to have the sister with her was increased by Lady Byron's distressat her husband's attempts to corrupt her principles with regard toreligion and marriage. 

In Moore's Life, vol. Iii. , letter 217, Lord Byron writes from Seaham toMoore, under date of March 8, sending a copy of his verses in LadyByron'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 housethere, at Colonel Leigh's, near Newmarket, where any epistle of yourswill find its welcome way. I have been very comfortable here, listeningto that d---d monologue which elderly gentlemen call conversation, inwhich my pious father-in-law repeats himself every evening, save one, when he played upon the fiddle. However, they have been vastly kind andhospitable, and I like them and the place vastly; and I hope they willlive many happy months. Bell is in health and unvaried good-humour andbehaviour; but we are in all the agonies of packing and parting. '

Nine days after this, under date of March 17, Lord Byron says, 'We meanto metropolize to-morrow, and you will address your next to Piccadilly. 'The inference is, that the days intermediate were spent at ColonelLeigh's. The next letters, and all subsequent ones for six months, aredated from Piccadilly. 

As we have shown, there is every reason to believe that a warm friendshiphad thus arisen between Mrs. Leigh and Lady Byron, and that, during allthis time, Lady Byron desired as much of the society of her sister-in-lawas possible. She was a married woman and a mother, her husband's nearestrelative; and Lady Byron could with more propriety ask, from her, counselor aid in respect to his peculiarities than she could from her ownparents. If we consider the character of Lady Byron as given by Mrs. Mimms, that of a young person of warm but repressed feeling, withoutsister or brother, longing for human sympathy, and having so far found norelief but in talking with a faithful dependant, --we may easily see thatthe acquisition of a sister through Lord Byron might have been all in allto her, and that the feelings which he checked and rejected for himselfmight have flowed out towards his sister with enthusiasm. The date ofMrs. Leigh's visit does not appear. 

The first domestic indication in Lord Byron's letters from London is theannouncement of the death of Lady Byron's uncle, Lord Wentworth, fromwhom came large expectations of property. Lord Byron had mentioned himbefore in his letters as so kind to Bell and himself that he could notfind 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 immediatelyafter hearing this news, 'although, ' as he says, 'he ought to have stayedat home in sackcloth for "unc. "'

On June 12, he writes that Lady Byron is more than three months advancedin her progress towards maternity; and that they have been out verylittle, as he wishes to keep her quiet. We are informed by Moore thatLord 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 firstyear of trial as a husband lay. From the strain of Byron's letters, asgiven in Moore, it is apparent, that, while he thinks it best for hiswife to remain at home, he does not propose to share the retirement, butprefers running his own separate career with such persons as thronged thegreenroom of the theatre in those days. 

In commenting on Lord Byron's course, we must not by any means besupposed to indicate that he was doing any more or worse than most gayyoung men of his time. The licence of the day as to getting drunk atdinner-parties, and leading, generally, what would, in these days, becalled a disorderly life, was great. We should infer that none of theliterary men of Byron's time would have been ashamed of being drunkoccasionally. The Noctes Ambrosianae Club of 'Blackwood' is full ofsongs glorying, in the broadest terms, in out-and-out drunkenness, andinviting to it as the highest condition of a civilised being. {178a}

But drunkenness upon Lord Byron had a peculiar and specific effect, whichhe notices afterwards, in his Journal, at Venice: 'The effect of allwines and spirits upon me is, however, strange. It settles, but makes megloomy--gloomy at the very moment of their effect: it composes, however, though sullenly. ' {178b} And, again, in another place, he says, 'Wineand spirits make me sullen, and savage to ferocity. '

It is well known that the effects of alcoholic excitement are various asthe natures of the subjects. But by far the worst effects, and the mostdestructive to domestic peace, are those that occur in cases wherespirits, instead of acting on the nerves of motion, and depriving thesubject of power in that direction, stimulate the brain so as to producethere the ferocity, the steadiness, the utter deadness to compassion orconscience, which characterise a madman. How fearful to a sensitiveyoung mother in the period of pregnancy might be the return of such amadman to the domestic roof! Nor can we account for those scenesdescribed in Lady Anne Barnard's letters, where Lord Byron returned fromhis evening parties to try torturing experiments on his wife, otherwisethan by his own statement, that spirits, while they steadied him, madehim 'gloomy, and savage to ferocity. '

Take for example this:--

 '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. "

 '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. "'

To ascribe such deliberate cruelty as this to the effect of drink uponLord Byron, is the most charitable construction that can be put upon hisconduct. 

Yet the manners of the period were such, that Lord Byron must have oftencome to this condition while only doing what many of his acquaintancesdid freely, and without fear of consequences. 

Mr. Moore, with his usual artlessness, gives us an idea of a privatesupper between himself and Lord Byron. We give it, with our own italics, as a specimen of many others:--

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

During the latter part of Lady Byron's pregnancy, it appears from Moorethat Byron was, night after night, engaged out at dinner parties, inwhich getting drunk was considered as of course the finale, as appearsfrom the following letters:--

 (LETTER 228. )

 TO MR. MOORE. 

 'TERRACE, PICCADILLY, OCT. 31, 1815. 

 '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. "

 '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, {181} waited to receive him in the hall. 

 '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. 

 'My paper is full, and I have a grievous headache. 

 '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. '

Here we have a picture of the whole story, --Lady Byron within a month ofher confinement; her money being used to settle debts; her husband out ata dinner-party, going through the usual course of such parties, able tokeep his legs and help Sheridan downstairs, and going home 'gloomy, andsavage to ferocity, ' to his wife. 

Four days after this (letter 229), we find that this dinner-party is notan exceptional one, but one of a series: for he says, 'To-day I dine withKinnaird, --we are to have Sheridan and Colman again; and to-morrow, oncemore, at Sir Gilbert Heathcote's. '

Afterward, in Venice, he reviews the state of his health, at this periodin London; and his account shows that his excesses in the vices of histimes had wrought effects on his sensitive, nervous organisation, verydifferent from what they might on the more phlegmatic constitutions ofordinary Englishmen. In his journal, dated Venice, Feb. 2, 1821, hesays, --

 '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. 

These extracts go to show what must have been the condition of the manwhom Lady Byron was called to receive at the intervals when he came backfrom his various social excitements and pleasures. That his nerves wereexacerbated by violent extremes of abstinence and reckless indulgence;that he was often day after day drunk, and that drunkenness made himsavage and ferocious, --such are the facts clearly shown by Mr. Moore'snarrative. Of the natural peculiarities of Lord Byron's temper, he thusspeaks to the Countess of Blessington:--

 '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. 

That during this time also his irritation and ill temper were increasedby the mortification of duns, debts, and executions, is on the face ofMoore's story. Moore himself relates one incident, which gives some ideaof 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 oldwatch that had been his companion from boyhood, and gone with him toGreece. 'In a fit of vexation and rage, brought upon him by some ofthese humiliating embarrassments, to which he was now almost daily aprey, he furiously dashed this watch on the hearth, and ground it topieces with the poker among the ashes. '

It is no wonder, that, with a man of this kind to manage, Lady Byronshould have clung to the only female companionship she could dare totrust in the case, and earnestly desired to retain with her the sister, who seemed, more than herself, to have influence over him. 

The first letter given by 'The Quarterly, ' from Lady Byron to Mrs. Leigh, without a date, evidently belongs to this period, when the sister'ssociety presented itself as a refuge in her approaching confinement. MrsLeigh speaks of leaving. The young wife, conscious that the housepresents no attractions, and that soon she herself shall be laid by, cannot urge Mrs. Leigh's stay as likely to give her any pleasure, butonly as a comfort to herself. 

 '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. 

 'Thine, 'A. I. B. '

 Addressed on the cover, 'To The Hon. Mrs. Leigh. '

This letter not being dated, we have no clue but what we obtain from itsown internal evidence. It certainly is not written in Lady Byron's usualclear and elegant style; and is, in this respect, in striking contrast toall her letters that I have ever seen. 

But the notes written by a young woman under such peculiar anddistressing circumstances must not be judged by the standard of calmerhours. 

Subsequently to this letter, and during that stormy, irrational periodwhen Lord Byron's conduct became daily more and more unaccountable, mayhave come that startling scene in which Lord Byron took every pains toconvince his wife of improper relations subsisting between himself andhis sister. 

What an utter desolation this must have been to the wife, tearing fromher the last hold of friendship, and the last refuge to which she hadclung in her sorrows, may easily be conceived. 

In this crisis, it appears that the sister convinced Lady Byron that thewhole was to be attributed to insanity. It would be a conviction gladlyaccepted, and bringing infinite relief, although still surrounding herpath with fearful difficulties. 

That such was the case is plainly asserted by Lady Byron in her statementpublished in 1830. Speaking of her separation, Lady Byron says:--

 '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. 

 'This opinion was in a great measure derived from the communications made to me by his nearest relatives and personal attendant'

Now there was no nearer relative than Mrs. Leigh; and the personalattendant was Fletcher. It was therefore presumably Mrs. Leigh whoconvinced Lady Byron of her husband's insanity. 

Lady Byron says, 'It was even represented to me that he was in danger ofdestroying himself. 

'With the concurrence of his family, I had consulted with Dr. Baillie, asa friend, on Jan. 8, as to his supposed malady. ' Now, Lord Byron'swritten order for her to leave came on Jan. 6. It appears, then, thatLady Byron, acting in concurrence with Mrs. Leigh and others of herhusband's family, consulted Dr. Baillie, on Jan. 8, as to what she shoulddo; the symptoms presented to Dr. Baillie being, evidently, insane hatredof his wife on the part of Lord Byron, and a determination to get her outof the house. Lady Byron goes on:--

 '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. '

It appears, then, that the domestic situation in Byron's house at thetime of his wife's expulsion was one so grave as to call for familycounsel; for Lady Byron, generally accurate, speaks in the plural number. 'His nearest relatives' certainly includes Mrs. Leigh. 'His family'includes more. That some of Lord Byron's own relatives were cognisant offacts at this time, and that they took Lady Byron's side, is shown by oneof his own chance admissions. In vol. Vi. P. 394, in a letter on Bowles, he says, speaking of this time, 'All my relations, save one, fell from melike leaves from a tree in autumn. ' And in Medwin's Conversations hesays, 'Even my cousin George Byron, who had been brought up with me, andwhom I loved as a brother, took my wife's part. ' The conduct must havebeen marked in the extreme that led to this result. 

We cannot help stopping here to say that Lady Byron's situation at thistime has been discussed in our days with a want of ordinary human feelingthat is surprising. Let any father and mother, reading this, look ontheir own daughter, and try to make the case their own. 

After a few short months of married life, --months full of patientendurance of the strangest and most unaccountable treatment, --she comesto them, expelled from her husband's house, an object of hatred andaversion to him, and having to settle for herself the awful question, whether he is a dangerous madman or a determined villain. 

Such was this young wife's situation. 

With a heart at times wrung with compassion for her husband as a helplessmaniac, and fearful that all may end in suicide, yet compelled to leavehim, she writes on the road the much-quoted letter, beginning 'DearDuck. ' This is an exaggerated and unnatural letter, it is true, but ofprecisely the character that might be expected from an inexperiencedyoung wife when dealing with a husband supposed to be insane. 

The next day, she addressed to Augusta this letter:--

 'MY DEAREST A. , --It is my great comfort that you are still in Piccadilly. '

And again, on the 23rd:--

 '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. '

We can see here how self-denying and heroic appears to Lady Byron theconduct of the sister, who patiently remains to soothe and guide andrestrain the moody madman, whose madness takes a form, at times, sorepulsive to every womanly feeling. She intimates that she should notwonder should Augusta grow weary of the office. 

Lady Byron continues her statement thus:--

 '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. "'

Here we have a quotation {190a} from a letter written by Lady Milbanke tothe anxious 'relations' who are taking counsel about Lord Byron in town. Lady Byron also adds, in justification of her mother from Lord Byron'sslanders, 'She had always treated him with an affectionate considerationand indulgence, which extended to every little peculiarity of hisfeelings. Never did an irritating word escape her lips in her wholeintercourse with him. '

Now comes a remarkable part of Lady Byron's statement:--

 'The accounts given me after I left Lord Byron, by those in constant intercourse with him, {190b} 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. '

When these doubts arose in her mind, it is not natural to suppose thatthey should, at first, involve Mrs. Leigh. She still appears to LadyByron as the devoted, believing sister, fully convinced of her brother'sinsanity, and endeavouring to restrain and control him. 

But if Lord Byron were sane, if the purposes he had avowed to his wifewere real, he must have lied about his sister in the past, and perhapshave the worst intentions for the future. 

The horrors of that state of vacillation between the conviction ofinsanity and the commencing conviction of something worse can scarcely betold. 

At all events, the wife's doubts extend so far that she speaks out to herparents. 'UNDER THIS UNCERTAINTY, ' says the statement, 'I deemed itright to communicate to my parents, that, if I were to consider LordByron's past conduct as that of a person of sound mind, nothing couldinduce me to return to him. It therefore appeared expedient, both tothem and to myself, to consult the ablest advisers. For that object, andalso to obtain still further information respecting appearances whichindicated mental derangement, my mother determined to go to London. Shewas empowered by me to take legal opinion on a written statement of mine;though I then had reasons for reserving a part of the case from theknowledge even of my father and mother. '

It is during this time of uncertainty that the next letter to Mrs. Leighmay be placed. It seems to be rather a fragment of a letter than a wholeone: perhaps it is an extract; in which case it would be desirable, ifpossible, to view it in connection with the remaining text:--

 Jan. 25, 1816. 

 '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. '

This fragment is not signed, nor finished in any way, but indicates thatthe writer is about to take a decisive step. 

On the 17th, as we have seen, Lady Milbanke had written, inviting LordByron. Subsequently she went to London to make more particular inquiriesinto his state. This fragment seems part of a letter from Lady Byron, called forth in view of some evidence resulting from her mother'sobservations. {192}

Lady Byron now adds, --

 '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. 

 'Conformably with this resolution, my father wrote to him, on the 2nd of February, to request an amicable separation. '

The following letter to Mrs. Leigh is dated the day after thisapplication, and is in many respects a noticeable one:--

 'KIRKBY MALLORY, Feb. 3, 1816. 

 '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. 

 'Ever yours most affectionately, 'A. I. BYRON. '

We observe in this letter that it is written to be shown to Lady Byron'sfather, and receive his sanction; and, as that father was in ignorance ofall the deeper causes of trouble in the case, it will be seen that theletter must necessarily be a reserved one. This sufficiently accountsfor the guarded character of the language when speaking of the causes ofseparation. One part of the letter incidentally overthrows Lord Byron'sstatement, which he always repeated during his life, and which isrepeated for him now; namely, that his wife forsook him, instead ofbeing, as she claims, expelled by him. 

She recalls to Lord Byron's mind the 'desire and determination he hasexpressed ever since his marriage to free himself from its bondage. '

This is in perfect keeping with the 'absolute desire, ' signified bywriting, 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. 

It appears that Augusta hesitates to show this note to her brother. Itis bringing on a crisis which she, above all others, would most wish toavoid. 

In the meantime, Lady Byron receives a letter from Lord Byron, whichmakes her feel it more than ever essential to make the decision final. Ihave reason to believe that this letter is preserved in Lady Byron'spapers:--

 'Feb. 4, 1816. 

 '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, 'Yours most affectionately, 'A. I. BYRON. '

The last of this series of letters is less like the style of Lady Byronthan any of them. We cannot judge whether it is a whole consecutiveletter, or fragments from a letter, selected and united. There is agreat want of that clearness and precision which usually characterisedLady Byron's style. It shows, however, that the decision is made, --adecision which she regrets on account of the sister who has tried so longto prevent it. 

 'KIRKBY MALLORY, Feb. 14, 1816. 

 '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!

 'A. I. B. '

We are here to consider that Mrs. Leigh has stood to Lady Byron in allthis long agony as her only confidante and friend; that she has deniedthe charges her brother has made, and referred them to insanity, admitting insane attempts upon herself which she has been obliged towatch over and control. 

Lady Byron has come to the conclusion that Augusta is mistaken as toinsanity; that there is a real wicked purpose and desire on the part ofthe brother, not as yet believed in by the sister. She regards thesister as one, who, though deceived and blinded, is still worthy ofconfidence and consideration; and so says to her, 'You will be of myopinion hereafter. '

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 herselfthe whole charge of a maniacal brother, although suffering from himlanguage and actions of the most injurious kind. That Mrs. Leigh did notflee the house at once under such circumstances, and wholly decline themanagement of the case, seems to Lady Byron consideration andself-sacrifice greater than she can acknowledge. 

The knowledge of the whole extent of the truth came to Lady Byron's mindat a later period. 

We now take up the history from Lushington's letter to Lady Byron, published at the close of her statement. 

The application to Lord Byron for an act of separation was positivelyrefused at first; it being an important part of his policy that all theresponsibility and insistence should come from his wife, and that heshould appear forced into it contrary to his will. 

Dr. Lushington, however, says to Lady Byron, --

 '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. '

In this crisis, with Lord Byron refusing the separation, with Lushingtonexpressing a wish to aid in a reconciliation, and Lady Noel notexpressing any aversion to it, the whole strain of the dreadfulresponsibility comes upon the wife. 

She resolves to ask counsel of her lawyer, in view of a statement of thewhole case. 

Lady Byron is spoken of by Lord Byron (letter 233) as being in town withher father on the 29th of February; viz. , fifteen days after the date ofthe 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 thoroughexamination. 

The result was, that Lushington expressed in the most decided terms hisconviction that reconciliation was impossible. The language be uses isvery striking:--

 '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. '

It does not appear in this note what effect the lawyer's examination ofthe case had on Lady Byron's mind. By the expressions he uses, we shouldinfer that she may still have been hesitating as to whether areconciliation might not be her duty. 

This hesitancy he does away with most decisively, saying, 'Areconciliation is impossible;' and, supposing Lady Byron or her friendsdesirous of one, he declares positively that he cannot, eitherprofessionally as a lawyer or privately as a friend, have anything to dowith effecting it. 

The lawyer, it appears, has drawn, from the facts of the case, inferencesdeeper and stronger than those which presented themselves to the mind ofthe young woman; and he instructs her in the most absolute terms. 

Fourteen years after, in 1830, for the first time the world wasastonished by this declaration from Dr. Lushington, in language sopronounced and positive that there could be no mistake. 

Lady Byron had stood all these fourteen years slandered by her husband, and misunderstood by his friends, when, had she so chosen, this opinionof Dr. Lushington's could have been at once made public, which fullyjustified her conduct. 

If, as the 'Blackwood' of July insinuates, the story told to Lushingtonwas a malignant slander, meant to injure Lord Byron, why did she suppressthe 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 hasbeen assumed she fabricated the story?

CHAPTER IV. THE CHARACTER OF THE TWO WITNESSES COMPARED. 

It will be observed, that, in this controversy, we are confronting twoopposing stories, --one of Lord and the other of Lady Byron; and thestatements from each are in point-blank contradiction. 

Lord Byron states that his wife deserted him. Lady Byron states that heexpelled her, and reminds him, in her letter to Augusta Leigh, that theexpulsion was a deliberate one, and that he had purposed it from thebeginning of their marriage. 

Lord Byron always stated that he was ignorant why his wife left him, andwas desirous of her return. Lady Byron states that he told her that hewould force her to leave him, and to leave him in such a way that thewhole blame of the separation should always rest on her, and not on him. 

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. 

In considering two opposing stories, we always, as a matter of fact, takeinto account the character of the witnesses. 

If a person be literal and exact in his usual modes of speech, reserved, careful, conscientious, and in the habit of observing minutely the minordetails of time, place, and circumstances, we give weight to histestimony from these considerations. But if a person be proved to havesingular and exceptional principles with regard to truth; if he beuniversally held by society to be so in the habit of mystification, thatlarge allowances must be made for his statements; if his assertions atone time contradict those made at another; and if his statements, also, sometimes come in collision with those of his best friends, so that, whenhis language is reported, difficulties follow, and explanations are madenecessary, --all this certainly disqualifies him from being considered atrustworthy witness. 

All these disqualifications belong in a remarkable degree to Lord Byron, on the oft-repeated testimony of his best friends. 

We shall first cite the following testimony, given in an article from'Under the Crown, ' which is written by an early friend and ardent admirerof Lord Byron:--

 '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. '

Certainly the character of Lord Byron here given by his friend is not thekind to make him a trustworthy witness in any case: on the contrary, itseems 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 toconceal, employs many turnings and windings to throw the world off thescent. What intriguer, having a crime to cover, could devise a moreartful course than to send half a dozen absurd stories to the press, which should, after a while, be traced back to himself, till the publicshould gradually look on all it heard from him as the result of thiseccentric humour?

The easy, trifling air with which Lord Byron made to this friend a falsestatement in regard to his father would lead naturally to the inquiry, onwhat other subjects, equally important to the good name of others, hemight give false testimony with equal indifference. 

When Medwin's 'Conversations with Lord Byron' were first published, theycontained a number of declarations of the noble lord affecting the honourand honesty of his friend and publisher Murray. These appear to havebeen made in the same way as those about his father, and with equalindifference. So serious were the charges, that Mr. Murray's friendsfelt that he ought, in justice to himself, to come forward and confrontthem with the facts as stated in Byron's letters to himself; and in vol. X. , p. 143, of Murray's standard edition, accordingly these falsestatements are confronted with the letters of Lord Byron. Thestatements, as reported, are of a most material and vital nature, relating to Murray's financial honour and honesty, and to his generaltruthfulness and sincerity. In reply, Murray opposes to them theaccounts of sums paid for different works, and letters from Byron exactlycontradicting his own statements as to Murray's character. 

The subject, as we have seen, was discussed in 'The Noctes. ' No doubtappears to be entertained that Byron made the statements to Medwin; andthe theory of accounting for them is, that 'Byron was "bamming" him. '

It seems never to have occurred to any of these credulous gentlemen, wholaughed at others for being 'bammed, ' that Byron might be doing the verysame thing by themselves. How many of his so-called packages sent toLady Byron were real packages, and how many were mystifications? Wefind, 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. Hetold Lady Blessington that he was in the habit of writing to herconstantly. Was this 'bamming'? Was he 'bamming, ' also, when he toldthe world that Lady Byron suddenly deserted him, quite to his surprise, and that he never, to his dying day, could find out why?

Lady Blessington relates, that, in one of his conversations with her, heentertained her by repeating epigrams and lampoons, in which many of hisfriends were treated with severity. She inquired of him, in case heshould die, and such proofs of his friendship come before the public, what would be the feelings of these friends, who had supposed themselvesto stand so high in his good graces. She says, --

 '"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!"'

It is asserted, in a note to 'The Noctes, ' that Byron, besides hisAutobiography, prepared a voluminous dictionary of all his friends andacquaintances, in which brief notes of their persons and character weregiven, with his opinion of them. It was not considered that thepublication of this would add to the noble lord's popularity; and it hasnever appeared. 

In Hunt's Life of Byron, there is similar testimony. Speaking of Byron'scarelessness in exposing his friends' secrets, and showing or giving awaytheir letters, he says, --

 '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. ' {205a}

With a person of such mental and moral habits as to truth, the inquiryalways must be, Where does mystification end, and truth begin?

If a man is careless about his father's reputation for sanity, andreports him a crazy suicide; if he gaily accuses his publisher and goodfriend of double-dealing, shuffling, and dishonesty; if he tells storiesabout Mrs. Clermont, {205b} to which his sister offers a publicrefutation, --is it to be supposed that he will always tell the truthabout his wife, when the world is pressing him hard, and every instinctof self-defence is on the alert?

And then the ingenuity that could write and publish false documents abouthimself, that they might reappear in London papers, --to what otheraccounts might it not be turned? Might it not create documents, inventstatements, about his wife as well as himself?

The document so ostentatiously given to M. G. Lewis 'for circulationamong friends in England' was a specimen of what the Noctes Club wouldcall 'bamming. '

If Byron wanted a legal investigation, why did he not take it in thefirst place, instead of signing the separation? If he wanted to cancelit, as he said in this document, why did he not go to London, and enter asuit for the restitution of conjugal rights, or a suit in chancery to getpossession of his daughter? That this was in his mind, passages inMedwin's 'Conversations' show. He told Lady Blessington also that hemight claim his daughter in chancery at any time. 

Why did he not do it? Either of these two steps would have brought onthat public investigation he so longed for. Can it be possible that allthe friends who passed this private document from hand to hand neversuspected that they were being 'bammed' by it?

But it has been universally assumed, that, though Byron was thusremarkably given to mystification, yet all his statements in regard tothis story are to be accepted, simply because he makes them. Why must weaccept them, any more than his statements as to Murray or his own father?

So we constantly find Lord Byron's incidental statements coming incollision with those of others: for example, in his account of hismarriage, he tells Medwin that Lady Byron's maid was put between hisbride and himself, on the same seat, in the wedding journey. The lady'smaid herself, Mrs. Mimms, says she was sent before them to Halnaby, andwas there to receive them when they alighted. 

He said of Lady Byron's mother, 'She always detested me, and had not thedecency to conceal it in her own house. Dining with her one day, I brokea tooth, and was in great pain; which I could not help showing. "It willdo you good, " said Lady Noel; "I am glad of it!"'

Lady Byron says, speaking of her mother, 'She always treated him with anaffectionate consideration and indulgence, which extended to every littlepeculiarity of his feelings. Never did an irritating word escape her. '

Lord Byron states that the correspondence between him and Lady Byron, after his refusal, was first opened by her. Lady Byron's friends denythe statement, and assert that the direct contrary is the fact. 

Thus we see that Lord Byron's statements are directly opposed to those ofhis family in relation to his father; directly against Murray's accounts, and his own admission to Murray; directly against the statement of thelady'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. 

We can see, also, that these misstatements were so fully perceived by themen of his times, that Medwin's 'Conversations' were simply laughed at asan amusing instance of how far a man might be made the victim of amystification. Christopher North thus sentences the book:--

 '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. '

Yet it is on Medwin's 'Conversations' alone that many of the magazineassertions in regard to Lady Byron are founded. 

It is on that authority that Lady Byron is accused of breaking open herhusband's writing-desk in his absence, and sending the letters she foundthere to the husband of a lady compromised by them; and likewise thatLord Byron is declared to have paid back his wife's ten-thousand-poundwedding portion, and doubled it. Moore makes no such statements; and hisremarks about Lord Byron's use of his wife's money are unmistakableevidence to the contrary. Moore, although Byron's ardent partisan, wastoo well informed to make assertions with regard to him, which, at thattime, it would have been perfectly easy to refute. 

All these facts go to show that Lord Byron's character for accuracy orveracity was not such as to entitle him to ordinary confidence as awitness, especially in a case where he had the strongest motives formisstatement. 

And if we consider that the celebrated Autobiography was the finished, careful work of such a practised 'mystifier, ' who can wonder that itpresented a web of such intermingled truth and lies that there was nosuch thing as disentangling it, and pointing out where falsehood endedand truth began?

But in regard to Lady Byron, what has been the universal impression ofthe world? It has been alleged against her that she was a precise, straightforward woman, so accustomed to plain, literal dealings, that shecould not understand the various mystifications of her husband; and fromthat cause arose her unhappiness. Byron speaks, in 'The Sketch, ' of herpeculiar truthfulness; and even in the 'Clytemnestra' poem, when accusingher of lying, he speaks of her as departing from

 'The early truth that was her proper praise. '

Lady Byron's careful accuracy as to dates, to time, place, andcircumstances, will probably be vouched for by all the very large numberof persons whom the management of her extended property and her works ofbenevolence brought to act as co-operators or agents with her. She wasnot a person in the habit of making exaggerated or ill-consideredstatements. Her published statement of 1830 is clear, exact, accurate, and perfectly intelligible. The dates are carefully ascertained andstated, the expressions are moderate, and all the assertions firm andperfectly definite. 

It therefore seems remarkable that the whole reasoning on this Byronmatter has generally been conducted by assuming all Lord Byron'sstatements to be true, and requiring all Lady Byron's statements to besustained by other evidence. 

If Lord Byron asserts that his wife deserted him, the assertion isaccepted without proof; but, if Lady Byron asserts that he ordered her toleave, that requires proof. Lady Byron asserts that she took counsel, onthis order of Lord Byron, with his family friends and physician, underthe idea that it originated in insanity. The 'Blackwood' asks, "Whatfamily friends?' says it doesn't know of any; and asks proof. 

If Lord Byron asserts that he always longed for a public investigation ofthe charges against him, the 'Quarterly' and 'Blackwood' quote the sayingwith ingenuous confidence. They are obliged to admit that he refused tostand that public test; that he signed the deed of separation rather thanmeet it. They know, also, that he could have at any time institutedsuits against Lady Byron that would have brought the whole matter intocourt, and that he did not. Why did he not? The 'Quarterly' simplyintimates that such suits would have been unpleasant. Why? On accountof personal delicacy? The man that wrote 'Don Juan, ' and furnished thedetails of his wedding-night, held back from clearing his name bydelicacy! It is astonishing to what extent this controversy hasconsisted in simply repeating Lord Byron's assertions over and overagain, and calling the result proof. 

Now, we propose a different course. As Lady Byron is not stated by herwarm admirers to have had any monomania for speaking untruths on anysubject, we rank her value as a witness at a higher rate than LordByron's. She never accused her parents of madness or suicide, merely tomake a sensation; never 'bammed' an acquaintance by false statementsconcerning the commercial honour of anyone with whom she was in businessrelations; never wrote and sent to the press as a clever jest falsestatements about herself; and never, in any other ingenious way, tamperedwith truth. We therefore hold it to be a mere dictate of reason andcommon sense, that, in all cases where her statements conflict with herhusband's, hers are to be taken as the more trustworthy. 

The 'London Quarterly, ' in a late article, distinctly repudiates LadyByron's statements as sources of evidence, and throughout quotesstatements of Lord Byron as if they had the force of self-evidentpropositions. We consider such a course contrary to common sense as wellas common good manners. 

The state of the case is just this: If Lord Byron did not make falsestatements on this subject it was certainly an exception to his usualcourse. 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. 

But, if Lady Byron gave false witness upon this subject, it was anexception to the whole course of her life. 

The habits of her mind, the government of her conduct, her life-longreputation, all were those of a literal, exact truthfulness. 

The accusation of her being untruthful was first brought forward by herhusband in the 'Clytemnestra' poem, in the autumn of 1816; but it neverwas publicly circulated till after his death, and it was first formallymade the basis of a published attack on Lady Byron in the July'Blackwood' of 1869. Up to that time, we look in vain through currentliterature for any indications that the world regarded Lady Byronotherwise than as a cold, careful, prudent woman, who made no assertions, and had no confidants. When she spoke in 1830, it is perfectly evidentthat Christopher North and his circle believed what she said, thoughreproving her for saying it at all. 

The 'Quarterly' goes on to heap up a number of vague assertions, --thatLady Byron, about the time of her separation, made a confidant of a youngofficer; that she told the clergyman of Ham of some trials with LordOckham; and that she told stories of different things at different times. 

All this is not proof: it is mere assertion, and assertion made toproduce prejudice. It is like raising a whirlwind of sand to blind theeyes that are looking for landmarks. It is quite probable Lady Byrontold different stories about Lord Byron at various times. No woman couldhave a greater variety of stories to tell; and no woman ever was sopersecuted and pursued and harassed, both by public literature andprivate friendship, to say something. She had plenty of causes for aseparation, without the fatal and final one. In her conversations withLady Anne Barnard, for example, she gives reasons enough for aseparation, though none of them are the chief one. It is not differentstories, but contradictory stories, that must be relied on to disprovethe credibility of a witness. The 'Quarterly' has certainly told a greatnumber of different stories, --stories which may prove as irreconcilablewith each other as any attributed to Lady Byron; but its denial of allweight to her testimony is simply begging the whole question underconsideration. 

A man gives testimony about the causes of a railroad accident, being theonly eye-witness. 

The opposing counsel begs, whatever else you do, you will not admit thatman's testimony. You ask, 'Why? Has he ever been accused of want ofveracity on other subjects?'--'No: he has stood high as a man of probityand honour for years. '--'Why, then, throw out his testimony?'

'Because he lies in this instance, ' says the adversary: 'his testimonydoes not agree with this and that. '--'Pardon me, that is the very pointin question, ' say you: 'we expect to prove that it does agree with thisand that. '

Because certain letters of Lady Byron's do not agree with the'Quarterly's' theory of the facts of the separation, it at once assumesthat she is an untruthful witness, and proposes to throw out her evidencealtogether. 

We propose, on the contrary, to regard Lady Byron's evidence with all theattention due to the statement of a high-minded conscientious person, never in any other case accused of violation of truth; we also propose toshow it to be in strict agreement with all well-authenticated facts anddocuments; and we propose to treat Lord Byron's evidence as that of a manof great subtlety, versed in mystification and delighting in it, and who, on many other subjects, not only deceived, but gloried in deception; andthen we propose to show that it contradicts well-established facts andreceived documents. 

One thing more we have to say concerning the laws of evidence in regardto documents presented in this investigation. 

This is not a London West-End affair, but a grave historical inquiry, inwhich the whole English-speaking world are interested to know the truth. 

As it is now too late to have the securities of a legal trial, certainlythe rules of historical evidence should be strictly observed. Allimportant documents should be presented in an entire state, with a plainand open account of their history, --who had them, where they were found, and how preserved. 

There have been most excellent, credible, and authentic documentsproduced in this case; and, as a specimen of them, we shall mention LordLindsay's letter, and the journal and letter it authenticates. LordLindsay at once comes forward, gives his name boldly, gives the historyof the papers he produces, shows how they came to be in his hands, whynever produced before, and why now. We feel confidence at once. 

But in regard to the important series of letters presented as LadyByron's, this obviously proper course has not been pursued. Thoughassumed to be of the most critical importance, no such distinct historyof them was given in the first instance. The want of such evidence beingnoticed by other papers, the 'Quarterly' appears hurt that the highcharacter of the magazine has not been a sufficient guarantee; and stilldeals in vague statements that the letters have been freely circulated, and that two noblemen of the highest character would vouch for them ifnecessary. 

In our view, it is necessary. These noblemen should imitate LordLindsay's example, --give a fair account of these letters, under their ownnames; and then, we would add, it is needful for complete satisfaction tohave the letters entire, and not in fragments. 

The 'Quarterly' gave these letters with the evident implication that theyare entirely destructive to Lady Byron's character as a witness. Now, has that magazine much reason to be hurt at even an insinuation on itsown character when making such deadly assaults on that of another? Theindividuals who bring forth documents that they suppose to be deadly tothe character of a noble person, always in her generation held to beeminent for virtue, certainly should not murmur at being called upon tosubstantiate these documents in the manner usually expected in historicalinvestigations. 

We have shown that these letters do not contradict, but that theyperfectly confirm the facts, and agree with the dates in Lady Byron'spublished statements of 1830; and this is our reason for deeming themauthentic. 

These considerations with regard to the manner of conducting the inquiryseem so obviously proper, that we cannot but believe that they willcommand a serious attention. 

CHAPTER V. THE DIRECT ARGUMENT TO PROVE THE CRIME. 

We shall now proceed to state the argument against Lord Byron. 

1st, There is direct evidence that Lord Byron was guilty of some unusualimmorality. 

The evidence is not, as the 'Blackwood' says, that Lushington yieldedassent to the ex parte statement of a client; nor, as the 'Quarterly'intimates, that he was affected by the charms of an attractive youngwoman. 

The first evidence of it is the fact that Lushington and Romilly offeredto take the case into court, and make there a public exhibition of theproofs on which their convictions were founded. 

2nd, It is very strong evidence of this fact, that Lord Byron, whileloudly declaring that he wished to know with what he was charged, declined this open investigation, and, rather than meet it, signed apaper which he had before refused to sign. 

3rd, It is also strong evidence of this fact, that although secretlydeclaring to all his intimate friends that he still wished openinvestigation in a court of justice, and affirming his belief that hischaracter was being ruined for want of it, he never afterwards took themeans to get it. Instead of writing a private handbill, he might havecome to England and entered a suit; and he did not do it. 

That Lord Byron was conscious of a great crime is further made probableby the peculiar malice he seemed to bear to his wife's legal counsel. 

If there had been nothing to fear in that legal investigation wherewiththey threatened him, why did he not only flee from it, but regard with apeculiar bitterness those who advised and proposed it? To an innocentman falsely accused, the certainties of law are a blessing and a refuge. Female charms cannot mislead in a court of justice; and the atrocities ofrumour are there sifted, and deprived of power. A trial is not a threatto an innocent man: it is an invitation, an opportunity. Why, then, didhe hate Sir Samuel Romilly, so that he exulted like a fiend over histragical death? The letter in which he pours forth this malignity was sobrutal, that Moore was obliged, by the general outcry of society, tosuppress it. Is this the language of an innocent man who has beenoffered a fair trial under his country's laws? or of a guilty man, towhom the very idea of public trial means public exposure?

4th, It is probable that the crime was the one now alleged, because thatwas the most important crime charged against him by rumour at the period. This appears by the following extract of a letter from Shelley, furnishedby the 'Quarterly, ' dated Bath, Sept. 29, 1816:--

 '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. '

It appears evident here that the charge of improper intimacy with hissister was, in the mind of Shelley, the only important one that had yetbeen made against Lord Byron. 

It is fairly inferable, from Lord Byron's own statements, that his familyfriends believed this charge. Lady Byron speaks, in her statement, of'nearest relatives' and family friends who were cognizant of Lord Byron'sstrange conduct at the time of the separation; and Lord Byron, in theletter to Bowles, before quoted, says that every one of his relations, except his sister, fell from him in this crisis like leaves from a treein autumn. There was, therefore, not only this report, but suchappearances in support of it as convinced those nearest to the scene, andbest apprised of the facts; so that they fell from him entirely, notwithstanding the strong influence of family feeling. The Guicciolibook also mentions this same allegation as having arisen frompeculiarities in Lord Byron's manner of treating his sister:--

 '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. ' {219}

It appears, then, that there was nothing in the character of Lord Byronand of his sister, as they appeared before their generation, thatprevented such a report from arising: on the contrary, there wassomething in their relations that made it seem probable. And it appearsthat his own family friends were so affected by it, that they, with oneaccord, deserted him. The 'Quarterly' presents the fact that Lady Byronwent to visit Mrs. Leigh at this time, as triumphant proof that she didnot then believe it. Can the 'Quarterly' show just what Lady Byron'sstate of mind was, or what her motives were, in making that visit?

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 thissubject to all women. We fearlessly ask any wife, 'Supposing yourhusband and sister were involved together in an infamous crime, and thatyou were the mother of a young daughter whose life would be tainted by aknowledge of that crime, what would be your wish? Would you wish toproclaim it forthwith? or would you wish quietly to separate from yourhusband, and to cover the crime from the eye of man?'

It has been proved that Lady Byron did not reveal this even to hernearest relatives. It is proved that she sealed the mouths of hercounsel, and even of servants, so effectually, that they remain sealedeven to this day. This is evidence that she did not wish the thingknown. It is proved also, that, in spite of her secrecy with her parentsand friends, the rumour got out, and was spoken of by Shelley as the onlyimportant one. 

Now, let us see how this note, cited by the 'Quarterly, ' confirms one ofLady Byron's own statements. She says to Lady Anne Barnard, --

 '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. '

How did Lady Byron silence accusations? First, by keeping silence to hernearest relatives; second, by shutting the mouths of servants; third, byimposing silence on her friends, --as Lady Anne Barnard; fourth, bysilencing her legal counsel; fifth, and most entirely, by treating Mrs. Leigh, before the world, with unaltered kindness. In the midst of therumours, Lady Byron went to visit her; and Shelley says that the movementwas effectual. Can the 'Quarterly' prove that, at this time, Mrs. Leighhad not confessed all, and thrown herself on Lady Byron's mercy?

It is not necessary to suppose great horror and indignation on the partof Lady Byron. She may have regarded her sister as the victim of a mostsingularly powerful tempter. Lord Byron, as she knew, had tried tocorrupt her own morals and faith. He had obtained a power over somewomen, even in the highest circles in England, which had led them toforego the usual decorums of their sex, and had given rise to greatscandals. He was a being of wonderful personal attractions. He had notonly strong poetical, but also strong logical power. He was daring inspeculation, and vigorous in sophistical argument; beautiful, dazzling, and possessed of magnetic power of fascination. His sister had been kindand considerate to Lady Byron when Lord Byron was brutal and cruel. Shehad been overcome by him, as a weaker nature sometimes sinks under theforce of a stronger one; and Lady Byron may really have considered her tobe more sinned against than sinning. 

Lord Byron, if we look at it rightly, did not corrupt Mrs. Leigh any morethan he did the whole British public. They rebelled at the immorality ofhis conduct and the obscenity of his writings; and he resolved that theyshould accept both. And he made them do it. At first, they execrated'Don Juan. ' Murray was afraid to publish it. Women were determined notto read it. In 1819, Dr. William Maginn of the Noctes wrote a songagainst it in the following virtuous strain:--

 'Be "Juan, " then, unseen, unknown; It must, or we shall rue it. We may have virtue of our own: Ah! why should we undo it? The treasured faith of days long past We still would prize o'er any, And grieve to hear the ribald jeer Of scamps like Don Giovanni. '

Lord Byron determined to conquer the virtuous scruples of the NoctesClub; and so we find this same Dr. William Maginn, who in 1819 wrote sovaliantly, in 1822 declaring that he would rather have written a page of'Don Juan' than a ton of 'Childe Harold. ' All English morals were, inlike manner, formally surrendered to Lord Byron. Moore details hisadulteries in Venice with unabashed particularity: artists send forpictures of his principal mistresses; the literary world call forbiographical sketches of their points; Moore compares his wife and hislast mistress in a neatly-turned sentence; and yet the professor ofmorals in Edinburgh University recommends the biography as pure, andhaving no mud in it. The mistress is lionized in London; and in 1869 isintroduced to the world of letters by 'Blackwood, ' and bid, 'without ablush, to say she loved'--

This much being done to all England, it is quite possible that a womanlike Lady Byron, standing silently aside and surveying the course ofthings, may have thought that Mrs. Leigh was no more seduced than all therest of the world, and have said as we feel disposed to say of thatgeneration, and of a good many in this, 'Let him that is without sinamong you cast the first stone. '

The peculiar bitterness of remorse expressed in his works by Lord Byronis a further evidence that he had committed an unusual crime. We areaware that evidence cannot be drawn in this manner from an author's worksmerely, if unsupported by any external probability. For example, thesubject most frequently and powerfully treated by Hawthorne is theinfluence of a secret, unconfessed crime on the soul: nevertheless, asHawthorne is well known to have always lived a pure and regular life, nobody has ever suspected him of any greater sin than a vigorousimagination. But here is a man believed guilty of an uncommon immoralityby 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 ownrelations fall away from him on account of it; it is only set at rest bythe heroic conduct of his wife. Now, this man is stated by many of hisfriends to have had all the appearance of a man secretly labouring underthe consciousness of crime. Moore speaks of this propensity in thefollowing language:--

 '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. '

Moore says that it was his own custom to dispel these appearances byridicule, to which his friend was keenly alive. And he goes on to say, --

 '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. ' {225}

All we have to say is, that Lord Byron's conduct in this respect isexactly what might have been expected if he had a crime on hisconscience. 

The energy of remorse and despair expressed in 'Manfred' were soappalling and so vividly personal, that the belief was universal on theContinent that the experience was wrought out of some actual crime. Goethe expressed this idea, and had heard a murder imputed to Byron asthe cause. 

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. 

The hero speaks of the love between himself and the imaginary being whosespirit haunts him as having been the deadliest sin, and one that has, perhaps, caused her eternal destruction. 

 'What is she now? A sufferer for my sins; A thing I dare not think upon. '

He speaks of her blood as haunting him, and as being

 'My blood, --the pure, warm stream That ran in the veins of my fathers, and in ours When we were in our youth, and had one heart, And loved each other as we should not love. '

This work was conceived in the commotion of mind immediately followinghis separation. The scenery of it was sketched in a journal sent to hissister at the time. 

In letter 377, defending the originality of the conception, and showingthat it did not arise from reading 'Faust, ' he says, --

 'It was the Steinbach and the Jungfrau, and something else, more than Faustus, that made me write "Manfred. "'

In letter 288, speaking of the various accounts given by critics of theorigin of the story, he says, --

 '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. '

In letter 299, he says:--

'As to the germs of "Manfred, " they may be found in the journal I sent toMrs. Leigh, part of which you saw. '

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 thathe could not help it. Whatever he wrote that had any real power wasgenerally wrought out of self; and, when in a tumult of emotion, he couldnot help giving glimpses of the cause. It appears that he did know thathe had been accused of incest, and that Shelley thought that accusationthe only really important one; and yet, sensitive as he was to blame andreprobation, he ran upon this very subject most likely to re-awakenscandal. 

But Lord Byron's strategy was always of the bold kind. It was the planof the fugitive, who, instead of running away, stations himself so nearto danger, that nobody would ever think of looking for him there. Hepublished passionate verses to his sister on this principle. He imitatedthe security of an innocent man in every thing but the unconscious energyof 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 beganby charging his wife with the very cruelty and deception which he washimself practising. He had spread a net for her feet, and he accused herof spreading a net for his. He had placed her in a position where shecould not speak, and then leisurely shot arrows at her; and herepresented her as having done the same by him. When he attacked her in'Don Juan, ' and strove to take from her the very protection {227}ofwomanly sacredness by putting her name into the mouth of every ribald, hedid a bold thing, and he knew it. He meant to do a bold thing. Therewas a general outcry against it; and he fought it down, and gained hispoint. By sheer boldness and perseverance, he turned the public from hiswife, and to himself, in the face of their very groans and protests. His'Manfred' and his 'Cain' were parts of the same game. But theinvoluntary cry of remorse and despair pierced even through his ownartifices, in a manner that produced a conviction of reality. 

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 shehad been bright, amiable, good, agreeable; that her marriage had been avery uncomfortable one; and he said to Madame de Stael, that he did notdoubt she thought him deranged. Why, then, did he hate her for wantingto live peaceably by herself? Why did he so fear her, that not one yearof his life passed without his concocting and circulating some public orprivate accusation against her? She, by his own showing, published noneagainst him. It is remarkable, that, in all his zeal to representhimself injured, he nowhere quotes a single remark from Lady Byron, nor astory coming either directly or indirectly from her or her family. He isin a fever in Venice, not from what she has spoken, but because she hassealed the lips of her counsel, and because she and her family do notspeak: so that he professes himself utterly ignorant what form herallegations against him may take. He had heard from Shelley that hiswife silenced the most important calumny by going to make Mrs. Leigh avisit; and yet he is afraid of her, --so afraid, that he tells Moore heexpects she will attack him after death, and charges him to defend hisgrave. 

Now, if Lord Byron knew that his wife had a deadly secret that she couldtell, all this conduct is explicable: it is in the ordinary course ofhuman nature. Men always distrust those who hold facts by which they canbe ruined. They fear them; they are antagonistic to them; they cannottrust them. The feeling of Falkland to Caleb Williams, as portrayed inGodwin's masterly sketch, is perfectly natural, and it is exactlyillustrative of what Byron felt for his wife. He hated her for havinghis secret; and, so far as a human being could do it, he tried to destroyher character before the world, that she might not have the power totestify against him. If we admit this solution, Byron's conduct is atleast that of a man who is acting as men ordinarily would act under suchcircumstances: if we do not, he is acting like a fiend. Let us look atadmitted 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 herconfidential maid advises her return to her parents. In Lady Byron'sletter to Mrs. Leigh, she reminds Lord Byron that he always expressed adesire and determination to free himself from the marriage. Lord Byronhimself admits to Madame de Stael that his behaviour was such, that hiswife must have thought him insane. Now we are asked to believe, thatsimply because, under these circumstances, Lady Byron wished to liveseparate from her husband, he hated and feared her so that he could neverlet 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 casecertainly makes Lord Byron more unaccountably wicked than the other. 

The first supposition shows him to us as a man in an agony ofself-preservation; the second as a fiend, delighting in gratuitous deceitand cruelty. 

Again: a presumption of this crime appears in Lord Byron's admission, ina letter to Moore, that he had an illegitimate child born before he leftEngland, and still living at the time. 

In letter 307, to Mr. Moore, under date Venice, Feb. 2, 1818, Byron says, speaking of Moore's loss of a child, --

 '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. '

The illegitimate child that he had made to himself since Ada's birth wasAllegra, born about nine or ten months after the separation. The otherillegitimate alluded to was born before, and, as the reader sees, wasspoken of as still living. 

Moore appears to be puzzled to know who this child can be, andconjectures that it may possibly be the child referred to in an earlypoem, written, while a schoolboy of nineteen, at Harrow. 

On turning back to the note referred to, we find two things: first, thatthe child there mentioned was not claimed by Lord Byron as his own, butthat he asked his mother to care for it as belonging to a schoolmate nowdead; second, that the infant died shortly after, and, consequently, could not be the child mentioned in this letter. 

Now, besides this fact, that Lord Byron admitted a living illegitimatechild born before Ada, we place this other fact, that there was a childin England which was believed to be his by those who had everyopportunity of knowing. 

On this subject we shall cite a passage from a letter recently receivedby us from England, and written by a person who appears well informed onthe subject of his letter:--

 '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. 

 '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. '

This letter contains a full recognition, by an intelligent person inEngland, of a child corresponding well with Lord Byron's declaration ofan illegitimate, born before he left England. 

Up to this point, we have, then, the circumstantial evidence against LordByron as follows:--

A good and amiable woman, who had married him from love, determined toseparate from him. 

Two of the greatest lawyers of England confirmed her in this decision, and threatened Lord Byron, that, unless he consented to this, they wouldexpose the evidence against him in a suit for divorce. He fled from thisexposure, and never afterwards sought public investigation. 

He was angry with and malicious towards the counsel who supported hiswife; 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 suchevidence of remorse and fear in his writings as to lead eminent literarymen to believe he had committed a great crime. The public rumour of hisday 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 thehistory, known in England, of a child believed to be his, in whom hiswife took an interest. 

All these presumptions exist independently of any direct testimony fromLady Byron. They are to be admitted as true, whether she says a word oneway or the other. 

From this background of proof, I come forward, and testify to aninterview with Lady Byron, in which she gave me specific information ofthe facts in the case. That I report the facts just as I received themfrom her, not altered or misremembered, is shown by the testimony of mysister, to whom I related them at the time. It cannot, then, be deniedthat I had this interview, and that this communication was made. Itherefore testify that Lady Byron, for a proper purpose, and at a propertime, stated to me the following things:--

1. That the crime which separated her from Lord Byron was incest. 

2. That she first discovered it by improper actions towards his sister, which, he meant to make her understand, indicated the guilty relation. 

3. That he admitted it, reasoned on it, defended it, tried to make heran accomplice, and, failing in that, hated her and expelled her. 

4. That he threatened her that he would make it his life's object todestroy her character. 

5. That for a period she was led to regard this conduct as insanity, andto consider him only as a diseased person. 

6. That she had subsequent proof that the facts were really as shesuspected; that there had been a child born of the crime, whose historyshe knew; that Mrs. Leigh had repented. 

The purpose for which this was stated to me was to ask, Was it her dutyto make the truth fully known during her lifetime?

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 notmeet legal investigation. The crime is named in society, and deemed sofar probable to the men of his generation as to be spoken of by Shelleyas the only important allegation against him. He acts through lifeexactly like a man struggling with remorse, and afraid of detection; hehas all the restlessness and hatred and fear that a man has who feelsthat there is evidence which might destroy him. He admits anillegitimate child besides Allegra. A child believed to have been his isknown to many in England. Added to all this, his widow, now advanced inyears, and standing on the borders of eternity, being, as appears by herwritings and conversation, of perfectly sound mind at the time, testifiesto me the facts before named, which exactly correspond to probabilities. 

I publish the statement; and the solicitors who hold Lady Byron's privatepapers do not deny the truth of the story. They try to cast discredit onme for speaking; but they do not say that I have spoken falsely, or thatthe story is not true. The lawyer who knew Lady Byron's story in 1816does not now deny that this is the true one. Several persons in Englandtestify that, at various times, and for various purposes, the same storyhas been told to them. Moreover, it appears from my last letteraddressed to Lady Byron on this subject, that I recommended her to leaveall necessary papers in the hands of some discreet persons, who, afterboth had passed away, should see that justice was done. The solicitorsadmit that Lady Byron has left sealed papers of great importance in thehands of trustees, with discretionary power. I have been informed verydirectly that the nature of these documents was such as to lead to thesuppression of Lady Byron's life and writings. This is all exactly as itwould be, if the story related by Lady Byron were the true one. 

The evidence under this point of view is so strong, that a great efforthas been made to throw out Lady Byron's testimony. 

This attempt has been made on two grounds. 1st, That she was under amental hallucination. This theory has been most ably refuted by the veryfirst authority in England upon the subject. He says, --

 '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. 

 '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. '

We refer our readers to a careful study of Dr. Forbes Winslow'sconsideration of this subject given in Part III. Anyone who has beenfamiliar with the delicacy and acuteness of Dr. Winslow, as shown in hiswork on obscure diseases of the brain and nerves, must feel that hispositive assertion on this ground is the best possible evidence. We heregratefully acknowledge our obligations to Dr. Winslow for the correctedproof of his valuable letter, which he has done us the honour to send forthis work. We shall consider that his argument, in connection with whatthe reader may observe of Lady Byron's own writings, closes that issue ofthe case completely. 

The other alternative is, that Lady Byron deliberately committed falsewitness. This was the ground assumed by the 'Blackwood, ' when in July, 1869, it took upon itself the responsibility of re-opening the Byroncontroversy. It is also the ground assumed by 'The London Quarterly' ofto-day. 

Both say, in so many words, that no crime was imputed to Lord Byron; thatthe representations made to Lushington in the beginning were false ones;and that the story told to Lady Byron's confidential friends in laterdays was also false. 

Let us examine this theory. In the first place, it requires us tobelieve in the existence of a moral monster of whom Madame Brinvilliersis cited as the type. The 'Blackwood, ' let it be remembered, opens thecontroversy with the statement that Lady Byron was a Madame Brinvilliers. The 'Quarterly' does not shrink from the same assumption. 

Let us consider the probability of this question. 

If Lady Byron were such a woman, and wished to ruin her husband'sreputation in order to save her own, and, being perfectly unscrupulous, had circulated against him a story of unnatural crime which had noproofs, how came two of the first lawyers of England to assume theresponsibility of offering to present her case in open court? How cameher husband, if he knew himself guiltless, to shrink from that publicinvestigation which must have demonstrated his innocence? Mostastonishing of all, when he fled from trial, and the report got abroadagainst him in England, and was believed even by his own relations, whydid not his wife avail herself of the moment to complete her victory? Ifat that moment she had publicly broken with Mrs. Leigh, she might haveconfirmed 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 toruin her husband's reputation, yet who takes every pains afterwards toprevent 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 theadvantage of their testimony. 

Moreover, if a desire for revenge could have been excited in her, itwould have been provoked by the first publication of the fourth canto of'Childe Harold, ' when she felt that Byron was attacking her before theworld. Yet we have Lady Anne Barnard's testimony, that, at this time, she was so far from wishing to injure him, that all her communicationswere guarded by cautious secrecy. At this time, also, she had a strongparty in England, to whom she could have appealed. Again: when 'DonJuan' was first printed, it excited a violent re-action against LordByron. Had his wife chosen then to accuse him, and display the evidenceshe had shown to her counsel, there is little doubt that all the worldwould have stood with her; but she did not. After his death, when shespoke 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 then have told her whole story, and been believed. Her wordwas believed by Christopher North, and accepted as proof that Byron hadbeen a great criminal. Had revenge been her motive, she could havespoken the ONE WORD more that North called for. 

The 'Quarterly' asks why she waited till everybody concerned was dead. There is an obvious answer. Because, while there was anybody living towhom the testimony would have been utterly destructive, there were thebest reasons for withholding it. When all were gone from earth, and sheherself was in constant expectation of passing away, there was a reason, and a proper one, why she should speak. By nature and principletruthful, she had had the opportunity of silently watching the operationof a permitted lie upon a whole generation. She had been placed in aposition in which it was necessary, by silence, to allow the spread andpropagation through society of a radical falsehood. Lord Byron's life, fame, and genius had all struck their roots into this lie, been nourishedby it, and had derived thence a poisonous power. 

In reading this history, it will be remarked that he pleaded his personalmisfortunes in his marriage as excuses for every offence againstmorality, and that the literary world of England accepted the plea, andtolerated and justified the crimes. Never before, in England, hadadultery been spoken of in so respectful a manner, and an adulteressopenly praised and feted, and obscene language and licentious imagespublicly tolerated; and all on the plea of a man's private misfortunes. 

There was, therefore, great force in the suggestion made to Lady Byron, that she owed a testimony in this case to truth and justice, irrespectiveof any personal considerations. There is no more real reason forallowing the spread of a hurtful falsehood that affects ourselves thanfor allowing one that affects our neighbour. This falsehood hadcorrupted the literature and morals of both England and America, and ledto the public toleration, by respectable authorities, of forms of vice atfirst indignantly rejected. The question was, Was this falsehood to goon corrupting literature as long as history lasted? Had the world noright to true history? Had she who possessed the truth no responsibilityto the world? Was not a final silence a confirmation of a lie with allits consequences?

This testimony of Lady Byron, so far from being thrown out altogether, asthe 'Quarterly' proposes, has a peculiar and specific value from thegreat forbearance and reticence which characterised the greater part ofher life. 

The testimony of a person who has shown in every action perfectfriendliness to another comes with the more weight on that account. Testimony extorted by conscience from a parent against a child, or a wifeagainst a husband, where all the other actions of the life prove theexistence of kind feeling, is held to be the strongest form of evidence. 

The fact that Lady Byron, under the severest temptations and thebitterest insults and injuries, withheld every word by which Lord Byroncould be criminated, so long as he and his sister were living, is strongevidence, that, when she did speak, it was not under the influence of ill-will, but of pure conscientious convictions; and the fullest weightought, therefore, to be given to her testimony. 

We are asked now why she ever spoke at all. The fact that her story isknown 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 haveexposed the whole story in a public court in 1816, and thus cut herselfloose from her husband by a divorce. For the sake of saving her husbandand sister from destruction, she waived this right to self-justification, and stood for years a silent sufferer under calumny andmisrepresentation. She desired nothing but to retire from the wholesubject; to be permitted to enjoy with her child the peace and seclusionthat belong to her sex. Her husband made her, through his life and afterhis death, a subject of such constant discussion, that she must eitherabandon the current literature of her day, or run the risk of readingmore 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 thepublic. Leigh Hunt, Galt, Medwin, Trelawney, Lady Blessington, Dr. Kennedy, and Thomas Moore, all poured forth their memorials; and in allshe figured prominently. All these had their tribes of reviewers andcritics, who also discussed her. The profound mystery of her silenceseemed constantly to provoke inquiry. People could not forgive her fornot speaking. Her privacy, retirement, and silence were set down ascoldness, haughtiness, and contempt of human sympathy. She wasconstantly 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, --

 '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. '

When Lady Byron published her statement, which certainly seemed calledfor by this language, Christopher North blamed her for doing it, and thenagain said that she ought to go on and tell the whole story. If she wasthus adjured to speak, blamed for speaking, and adjured to speak further, all in one breath, by public prints, there is reason to think that therecould not have come less solicitation from private sources, --from friendswho had access to her at all hours, whom she loved, by whom she wasbeloved, and to whom her refusal to explain might seem a breach offriendship. Yet there is no evidence on record, that we have seen, thatshe ever had other confidant than her legal counsel, till after all theactors in the events were in their graves, and the daughter, for whosesake largely the secret was guarded, had followed them. 

Now, does anyone claim, that, because a woman has sacrificed for twentyyears all cravings for human sympathy, and all possibility of perfectlyfree and unconstrained intercourse with her friends, that she is obligedto go on bearing this same lonely burden to the end of her days?

Let anyone imagine the frightful constraint and solitude implied in thissentence. Let anyone, too, think of its painful complications in life. The roots of a falsehood are far-reaching. Conduct that can only beexplained by criminating another must often seem unreasonable andunaccountable; and the most truthful person, who feels bound to keepsilence regarding a radical lie of another, must often be placed inpositions most trying to conscientiousness. The great merit of 'CalebWilliams' as a novel consists in its philosophical analysis of the utterhelplessness of an innocent person who agrees to keep the secret of aguilty one. One sees there how that necessity of silence produces allthe effect of falsehood on his part, and deprives him of the confidenceand sympathy of those with whom he would take refuge. 

For years, this unnatural life was forced on Lady Byron, involving her asin a network, even in her dearest family relations. 

That, when all the parties were dead, Lady Byron should allow herself thesympathy of a circle of intimate friends, is something so perfectlyproper and natural, that we cannot but wonder that her conduct in thisrespect has ever been called in question. If it was her right to havehad a public expose in 1816, it was certainly her right to show to herown intimate circle the secret of her life when all the principal actorswere passed from earth. 

The 'Quarterly' speaks as if, by thus waiting, she deprived Lord Byron ofthe testimony of living witnesses. But there were as many witnesses andpartisans dead on her side as on his. Lady Milbanke and Sir Ralph, SirSamuel Romilly and Lady Anne Barnard were as much dead as Hobhouse, Moore, and others of Byron's partisans. 

The 'Quarterly' speaks of Lady Byron as 'running round, and repeating herstory to people mostly below her own rank in life. '

To those who know the personal dignity of Lady Byron's manners, represented and dwelt on by her husband in his conversations with LadyBlessington, this coarse and vulgar attack only proves the poverty of acause which can defend itself by no better weapons. 

Lord Byron speaks of his wife as 'highly cultivated;' as having 'a degreeof self-control I never saw equalled. '

 '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. '

This is the kind of woman who has lately been accused in the publicprints as a babbler of secrets and a gossip in regard to her privatedifficulties with children, grandchildren, and servants. It is a fairspecimen of the justice that has generally been meted out to Lady Byron. 

In 1836, she was accused of having made a confidant of Campbell, on thestrength of having written him a note declining to give him anyinformation, or answer any questions. In July, 1869, she was denouncedby 'Blackwood' as a Madame Brinvilliers for keeping such perfect silenceon the matter of her husband's character; and in the last 'Quarterly' sheis spoken of as a gossip 'running round, and repeating her story topeople below her in rank. '

While we are upon this subject, we have a suggestion to make. JohnStuart Mill says that utter self-abnegation has been preached to women asa peculiarly feminine virtue. It is true; but there is a moral limit tothe value of self-abnegation. 

It is a fair question for the moralist, whether it is right and properwholly to ignore one's personal claims to justice. The teachings of theSaviour give us warrant for submitting to personal injuries; but both theSaviour and St. Paul manifested bravery in denying false accusations, andasserting innocence. 

Lady Byron was falsely accused of having ruined the man of hisgeneration, and caused all his vices and crimes, and all their evileffects on society. She submitted to the accusation for a certain numberof years for reasons which commended themselves to her conscience; butwhen all the personal considerations were removed, and she was aboutpassing from life, it was right, it was just, it was strictly inaccordance with the philosophical and ethical character of her mind, andwith her habit of considering all things in their widest relations to thegood of mankind, that she should give serious attention and considerationto the last duty which she might owe to abstract truth and justice in hergeneration. 

In her letter on the religious state of England, we find her advocatingan absolute frankness in all religious parties. She would have allopenly confess those doubts, which, from the best of motives, are usuallysuppressed; and believed, that, as a result of such perfect truthfulness, a wider love would prevail among Christians. This shows the strength ofher conviction of the power and the importance of absolute truth; andshows, therefore, that her doubts and conscientious inquiries respectingher duty on this subject are exactly what might have been expected from aperson of her character and principles. 

Having thus shown that Lady Byron's testimony is the testimony of a womanof 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 apurpose in accordance with the most elevated moral views, and that it iscoincident with all the established facts of this history, and furnishesa perfect solution of every mystery of the case, we think we shall carrythe reader with us in saying that it is to be received as absolute truth. 

This conviction we arrive at while as yet we are deprived of thestatement prepared by Lady Byron, and the proof by which she expected tosustain it; both which, as we understand, are now in the hands of hertrustees. 

CHAPTER VI. PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 

The credibility of the accusation of the unnatural crime charged to LordByron is greater than if charged to most men. He was born of parentsboth of whom were remarkable for perfectly ungoverned passions. Thereappears to be historical evidence that he was speaking literal truth whenhe says to Medwin of his father, --

 '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. 

Lady Carmarthen here spoken of was the mother of Mrs. Leigh. Miss Gordonbecame Lord Byron's mother. 

By his own account, and that of Moore, she was a passionate, ungoverned, though affectionate woman. Lord Byron says to Medwin, --

 '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. 

By all the accounts of his childhood and early youth, it is made apparentthat ancestral causes had sent him into the world with a most perilousand exceptional sensitiveness of brain and nervous system, which it wouldhave required the most judicious course of education to direct safely andhappily. 

Lord Byron often speaks as if he deemed himself subject to tendencieswhich might terminate in insanity. The idea is so often mentioned anddwelt upon in his letters, journals, and conversations, that we cannotbut ascribe it to some very peculiar experience, and not to mereaffectation. 

But, in the history of his early childhood and youth, we see no evidenceof any original malformation of nature. We see only evidence of one ofthose organisations, full of hope and full of peril, which adverseinfluences might easily drive to insanity, but wise physiologicaltraining and judicious moral culture might have guided to the mostsplendid results. But of these he had neither. He was alternately thepet and victim of his mother's tumultuous nature, and equally injuredboth by her love and her anger. A Scotch maid of religious charactergave him early serious impressions of religion, and thus added theelement of an awakened conscience to the conflicting ones of hischaracter. 

Education, in the proper sense of the word, did not exist in England inthose days. Physiological considerations of the influence of the body onthe soul, of the power of brain and nerve over moral development, hadthen not even entered the general thought of society. The school andcollege education literally taught him nothing but the ancient classics, of whose power in exciting and developing the animal passions Byron oftenspeaks. 

The morality of the times is strikingly exemplified even in its literarycriticism. 

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 standardedition of Byron's poems, gravely give the public their speculations onthe point, whether Lord Byron first became a father while a schoolboy atHarrow; and go into particulars in relation to a certain infant, theclaim to which lay between Lord Byron and another schoolfellow. It isnot the nature of the event itself, so much as the cool, unembarrassedmanner in which it is discussed, that gives the impression of the stateof public morals. There is no intimation of anything unusual, ordiscreditable to the school, in the event, and no apparent suspicion thatit will be regarded as a serious imputation on Lord Byron's character. 

Modern physiological developments would lead any person versed in thestudy of the reciprocal influence of physical and moral laws toanticipate the most serious danger to such an organisation as LordByron's, from a precocious development of the passions. Alcoholic andnarcotic stimulants, in the case of such a person, would be regarded aslittle less than suicidal, and an early course of combined drinking andlicentiousness as tending directly to establish those unsound conditionswhich lead towards moral insanity. Yet not only Lord Byron's testimony, but every probability from the licence of society, goes to show that thiswas exactly what did take place. 

Neither restrained by education, nor warned by any correct physiologicalknowledge, nor held in check by any public sentiment, he drifted directlyupon the fatal rock. 

Here we give Mr. Moore full credit for all his abatements in regard toLord Byron's excesses in his early days. Moore makes the point verystrongly that he was not, de facto, even so bad as many of hisassociates; and we agree with him. Byron's physical organisation wasoriginally as fine and sensitive as that of the most delicate woman. Hepossessed 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, 'Adose of salts has the effect of a temporary inebriation, like lightchampagne, upon me. ' Yet this exceptionally delicately-organised boy andyouth was in a circle where not to conform to the coarse drinking-customsof his day was to incur censure and ridicule. That he early acquired thepower of bearing large quantities of liquor is manifested by the recordin his Journal, that, on the day when he read the severe 'Edinburgh'article upon his schoolboy poems, he drank three bottles of claret at asitting. 

Yet Byron was so far superior to his times, that some vague impulses tophysiological prudence seem to have suggested themselves to him, and beenacted upon with great vigour. He never could have lived so long as hedid, under the exhaustive process of every kind of excess, if he had notre-enforced his physical nature by an assiduous care of his muscularsystem. He took boxing-lessons, and distinguished himself in allathletic exercises. 

He also had periods in which he seemed to try vaguely to retrieve himselffrom dissipation, and to acquire self-mastery by what he calledtemperance. 

But, ignorant and excessive in all his movements, his very efforts attemperance were intemperate. From violent excesses in eating anddrinking, he would pass to no less unnatural periods of utter abstinence. Thus the very conservative power which Nature has of adapting herself toany settled course was lost. The extreme sensitiveness produced by longperiods of utter abstinence made the succeeding debauch more maddeningand fatal. He was like a fine musical instrument, whose strings wereevery day alternating between extreme tension and perfect laxity. Wehave in his Journal many passages, of which the following is a specimen:--

 '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. 

From all the contemporary history and literature of the times, therefore, we have reason to believe that Lord Byron spoke the exact truth when hesaid to Medwin, --

 '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. 

Utter prostration of the whole physical man from intemperate excess, thedeadness to temptation which comes from utter exhaustion, was hiscondition, according to himself and Moore, when he first left England, attwenty-one years of age. 

In considering his subsequent history, we are to take into account thatit was upon the brain and nerve-power, thus exhausted by early excess, that the draughts of sudden and rapid literary composition began to bemade. 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 ofAbydos, ' 'The Corsair, ' 'The Giaour, ' 'Lara, ' 'Parisina, ' and 'The Siegeof Corinth, ' all followed close upon each other, in a space of less thanthree years, and those the three most critical years of his life. 'TheBride of Abydos' came out in the autumn of 1813, and was written in aweek; and 'The Corsair' was composed in thirteen days. A few months morethan 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 yethe was running the wild career of intrigue and fashionable folly. Hespeaks of 'Lara' as being tossed off in the intervals between masqueradesand balls, etc. It is with the physical results of such unnaturalefforts that we have now chiefly to do. Every physiologist would saythat the demands of such poems on a healthy brain, in that given space, must have been exhausting; but when we consider that they were chequesdrawn on a bank broken by early extravagance, and that the subject wasprodigally spending vital forces in every other direction at the sametime, one can scarcely estimate the physiological madness of such acourse as Lord Byron's. 

It is evident from his Journal, and Moore's account, that any amount ofphysical force which was for the time restored by his first foreigntravel was recklessly spent in this period, when he threw himself with amad recklessness into London society in the time just preceding hismarriage. The revelations made in Moore's Memoir of this period are sadenough: those to Medwin are so appalling as to the state of contemporarysociety in England, as to require, at least, the benefit of the doubt forwhich Lord Byron's habitual carelessness of truth gave scope. Hisadventures with ladies of the highest rank in England are there paradedwith a freedom of detail that respect for womanhood must lead every womanto question. The only thing that is unquestionable is, that Lord Byronmade these assertions to Medwin, not as remorseful confessions, but asrelations of his bonnes fortunes, and that Medwin published them in thevery face of the society to which they related. 

When Lord Byron says, 'I have seen a great deal of Italian society, andswum in a gondola; but nothing could equal the profligacy of high life inEngland . . . When I knew it, ' he makes certainly strong assertions, ifwe remember what Mr. Moore reveals of the harem kept in Venice. 

But when Lord Byron intimates that three married women in his own rank inlife, who had once held illicit relations with him, made wedding-visitsto his wife at one time, we must hope that he drew on his activeimagination, as he often did, in his statements in regard to women. 

When he relates at large his amour with Lord Melbourne's wife, andrepresents her as pursuing him with an insane passion, to which he withdifficulty responded; and when he says that she tracked a rival lady tohis lodgings, and came into them herself, disguised as a carman--onehopes that he exaggerates. And what are we to make of passages likethis?--

 '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 . . . . . . . 

 '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. '

Unfortunately, these statements, though probably exaggerated, are, forsubstance, borne out in the history of the times. With every possibleabatement for exaggeration in these statements, there remains stillundoubted evidence from other sources that Lord Byron exercised a mostpeculiar and fatal power over the moral sense of the women with whom hewas brought in relation; and that love for him, in many women, became asort of insanity, depriving them of the just use of their faculties. Allthis makes his fatal history both possible and probable. 

Even the article in 'Blackwood, ' written in 1825 for the express purposeof vindicating his character, admits that his name had been coupled withthose of three, four, or more women of rank, whom it speaks of as'licentious, unprincipled, characterless women. '

That such a course, in connection with alternate extremes of excess andabstinence in eating and drinking, and the immense draughts on the brain-power of rapid and brilliant composition, should have ended in thatabnormal state in which cravings for unnatural vice give indications ofapproaching brain-disease, seems only too probable. 

This symptom of exhausted vitality becomes often a frequent type inperiods of very corrupt society. The dregs of the old Greek and Romancivilisation were foul with it; and the apostle speaks of the turning ofthe use of the natural into that which is against nature, as the laststep in abandonment. 

The very literature of such periods marks their want of physical andmoral soundness. Having lost all sense of what is simple and natural andpure, the mind delights to dwell on horrible ideas, which give ashuddering sense of guilt and crime. All the writings of this fatalperiod of Lord Byron's life are more or less intense histories ofunrepentant guilt and remorse or of unnatural crime. A recent writer in'Temple Bar' brings to light the fact, that 'The Bride of Abydos, ' thefirst of the brilliant and rapid series of poems which began in theperiod 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 fromreal life; that, in compliance with the prejudices of the age, he alteredthe relationship to that of cousins before publication. 

This same writer goes on to show, by a series of extracts from LordByron's published letters and journals, that his mind about this time wasin a fearfully unnatural state, and suffering singular and inexplicableagonies of remorse; that, though he was accustomed fearlessly to confideto his friends immoralities which would be looked upon as damning, therewas now a secret to which he could not help alluding in his letters, butwhich he told Moore he could not tell now, but 'some day or other when weare veterans. ' He speaks of his heart as eating itself out; of amysterious person, whom he says, 'God knows I love too well, and theDevil probably too. ' He wrote a song, and sent it to Moore, addressed toa partner in some awful guilt, whose very name he dares not mention, because

 'There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame. '

He speaks of struggles of remorse, of efforts at repentance, and returnsto guilt, with a sort of horror very different from the well-pleased airwith which he relates to Medwin his common intrigues and adulteries. Hespeaks of himself generally as oppressed by a frightful, unnatural gloomand horror, and, when occasionally happy, 'not in a way that can or oughtto last. '

'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, whomsuffering maddens, but cannot reclaim. 

In all these he paints only the one woman, of concentrated, unconsideringpassion, 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--madness. 

The work of Dr. Forbes Winslow on 'Obscure Diseases of the Brain andNerves' {258} contains a passage so very descriptive of the case of LordByron, that it might seem to have been written for it. The sixth chapterof 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'slife. He says, p. 87, --

 '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. . . . 

 '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. '

In another place, Dr. Winslow again adverts to this latter symptom, whichwas strikingly marked in the case of Lord Byron:--

 '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 . . . . 

 '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. 

 '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. '

No one can compare this passage of Dr. Forbes Winslow with the incidentswe have already cited as occurring in that fatal period before theseparation of Lord and Lady Byron, and not feel that the hapless youngwife was indeed struggling with those inflexible natural laws, which, atsome stages of retribution, involve in their awful sweep the guilty withthe innocent. She longed to save; but he was gone past redemption. Alcoholic stimulants and licentious excesses, without doubt, had producedthose unseen changes in the brain, of which Dr. Forbes Winslow speaks;and the results were terrible in proportion to the peculiar fineness anddelicacy of the organism deranged. 

Alas! the history of Lady Byron is the history of too many women in everyrank of life who are called, in agonies of perplexity and fear, to watchthat gradual process by which physical excesses change the organism ofthe brain, till slow, creeping, moral insanity comes on. The woman whois the helpless victim of cruelties which only unnatural states of thebrain could invent, who is heart-sick to-day and dreads to-morrow, --looksin hopeless horror on the fatal process by which a lover and a protectorchanges under her eyes, from day to day, to a brute and a fiend. 

Lady Byron's married life--alas! it is lived over in many a cottage andtenement-house, with no understanding on either side of the cause of thewoeful misery. 

Dr. Winslow truly says, 'The science of these brain-affections is yet inits 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. Itstreatment, if established, had no redeeming power. Insanity simplylocked a man up as a dangerous being; and the very suggestion of it, therefore, was resented as an injury. 

A most peculiar and affecting feature of that form of brain disease whichhurries its victim, as by an overpowering mania, into crime, is, thatoften the moral faculties and the affections remain to a degreeunimpaired, and protest with all their strength against the outrage. Hence come conflicts and agonies of remorse proportioned to the strengthof the moral nature. Byron, more than any other one writer, may becalled the poet of remorse. His passionate pictures of this feeling seemto give new power to the English language:--

 'There is a war, a chaos of the mind, When all its elements convulsed--combined, Lie dark and jarring with perturbed force, And gnashing with impenitent remorse, That juggling fiend, who never spake before, But cries, "I warned thee!" when the deed is o'er. '

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 giveto a powerful nature in a state of danger and ruin; and it may be hopedthat this feeling, which tempers the stern justice of human judgments, may prove only a faint image of the wider charity of Him whose thoughtsare as far above ours as the heaven is above the earth. 

CHAPTER VII. HOW COULD SHE LOVE HIM?

It has seemed, to some, wholly inconsistent, that Lady Byron, if thisstory were true, could retain any kindly feeling for Lord Byron, or anytenderness for his memory; that the profession implied a certainhypocrisy: but, in this sad review, we may see how the woman who once hadloved him, might, in spite of every wrong he had heaped upon her, stillhave looked on this awful wreck and ruin chiefly with pity. While shestood afar, and refused to justify or join in the polluted idolatry whichdefended his vices, there is evidence in her writings that her mind oftenwent back mournfully, as a mother's would, to the early days when hemight have been saved. 

One of her letters in Robinson's Memoirs, in regard to his religiousopinions, shows with what intense earnestness she dwelt upon the unhappyinfluences of his childhood and youth, and those early theologies whichled him to regard himself as one of the reprobate. She says, --

 '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. 

 '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. '

In this letter we have the heart, not of the wife, but of the mother, --thelove that searches everywhere for extenuations of the guilt it is forcedto confess. 

That Lady Byron was not alone in ascribing such results to the doctrinesof Calvinism, in certain cases, appears from the language of the Thirty-nine Articles, which says:--

 '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. '

Lord Byron's life is an exact commentary on these words, which passedunder the revision of Calvin himself. 

The whole tone of this letter shows not only that Lady Byron never losther deep interest in her husband, but that it was by this experience thatall her religious ideas were modified. There is another of these lettersin which she thus speaks of her husband's writings and character:--

 '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. 

 '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. '

These letters show that Lady Byron's idea was that, even were the wholemournful truth about Lord Byron fully told, there was still a foundationleft for pity and mercy. She seems to have remembered, that if his sinswere peculiar, so also were his temptations; and to have schooled herselffor years to gather up, and set in order in her memory, all that yetremained precious in this great ruin. Probably no English writer thatever has made the attempt could have done this more perfectly. ThoughLady Byron was not a poet par excellence, yet she belonged to an order ofsouls fully equal to Lord Byron. Hers was more the analytical mind ofthe philosopher than the creative mind of the poet; and it was, for thatreason, the one mind in our day capable of estimating him fully both withjustice and mercy. No person in England had a more intense sensibilityto genius, in its loftier acceptation, than Lady Byron; and none morecompletely sympathised with what was pure and exalted in her husband'swritings. 

There is this peculiarity in Lord Byron, that the pure and the impure inhis poetry often run side by side without mixing, --as one may see atGeneva the muddy stream of the Arve and the blue waters of the Rhoneflowing together unmingled. What, for example, can be nobler, and in ahigher and tenderer moral strain than his lines on the dying gladiator, in 'Childe Harold'? What is more like the vigour of the old HebrewScriptures than his thunderstorm in the Alps? What can more perfectlyexpress moral ideality of the highest kind than the exquisitedescriptions of Aurora Raby, --pure and high in thought and language, occurring, as they do, in a work full of the most utter vileness?

Lady Byron's hopes for her husband fastened themselves on all the noblefragments yet remaining in that shattered temple of his mind which layblackened and thunder-riven; and she looked forward to a sphere beyondthis earth, where infinite mercy should bring all again to symmetry andorder. If the strict theologian must regret this as an undue latitude ofcharity, let it at least be remembered that it was a charity which sprangfrom a Christian virtue, and which she extended to every human being, however lost, however low. In her view, the mercy which took him wasmercy that could restore all. 

In my recollections of the interview with Lady Byron, when this wholehistory was presented, I can remember that it was with a softened andsaddened feeling that I contemplated the story, as one looks on someawful, inexplicable ruin. 

The last letter which I addressed to Lady Byron upon this subject willshow that such was the impression of the whole interview. It was inreply to the one written on the death of my son:--

 'Jan. 30, 1858. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. 

 '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. "'

CHAPTER VIII. CONCLUSION. 

In leaving this subject, I have an appeal to make to the men, and moreespecially to the women, who have been my readers. 

In justice to Lady Byron, it must be remembered that this publication ofher 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 understoodfully by her immediate circle of friends, and to seek of them counsel inview of the moral questions to which such very exceptional circumstancesmust have given rise. Her communication to me was not an address to thepublic: it was a statement of the case for advice. True, by leaving thewhole, unguarded by pledge or promise, it left discretionary power withme to use it if needful. 

You, my sisters, are to judge whether the accusation laid against LadyByron by the 'Blackwood, ' in 1869, was not of so barbarous a nature as tojustify my producing the truth I held in my hands in reply. 

The 'Blackwood' claimed a right to re-open the subject because it was nota private but a public matter. It claimed that Lord Byron's unfortunatemarriage might have changed not only his own destiny, but that of allEngland. It suggested, that, but for this, instead of wearing out hislife in vice, and corrupting society by impure poetry, he might, at thisday, have been leading the counsels of the State, and helping the onwardmovements of the world. Then it directly charged Lady Byron with meanlyforsaking her husband in a time of worldly misfortune; with fabricating adestructive accusation of crime against him, and confirming thisaccusation by years of persistent silence more guilty than openassertion. 

It has been alleged, that, even admitting that Lady Byron's story weretrue, it never ought to have been told. Is it true, then, that a womanhas not the same right to individual justice that a man has? If thecases were reversed, would it have been thought just that Lord Byronshould go down in history loaded with accusations of crime because hecould be only vindicated by exposing the crime of his wife?

It has been said that the crime charged on Lady Byron was comparativelyunimportant, and the one against Lord Byron was deadly. 

But the 'Blackwood, ' in opening the controversy, called Lady Byron by thename of an unnatural female criminal, whose singular atrocities aloneentitle her to infamous notoriety; and the crime charged upon her wassufficient to warrant the comparison. 

Both crimes are foul, unnatural, horrible; and there is no middle groundbetween the admission of the one or the other. 

You must either conclude that a woman, all whose other works, words, anddeeds were generous, just, and gentle, committed this one monstrousexceptional crime, without a motive, and against all the analogies of hercharacter, and all the analogies of her treatment of others; or you mustsuppose that a man known by all testimony to have been boundlesslylicentious, who took the very course which, by every physiological law, would have led to unnatural results, did, at last, commit an unnaturalcrime. 

The question, whether I did right, when Lady Byron was thus held up as anabandoned criminal by the 'Blackwood, ' to interpose my knowledge of thereal truth in her defence, is a serious one; but it is one for which Imust account to God alone, and in which, without any contempt of theopinions of my fellow-creatures, I must say, that it is a small thing tobe judged of man's judgment. 

I had in the case a responsibility very different from that of manyothers. I had been consulted in relation to the publication of thisstory by Lady Byron, at a time when she had it in her power to haveexhibited it with all its proofs, and commanded an instant conviction. Ihave reason to think that my advice had some weight in suppressing thatdisclosure. I gave that advice under the impression that the Byroncontroversy was a thing for ever passed, and never likely to return. 

It had never occurred to me, that, nine years after Lady Byron's death, astandard English periodical would declare itself free to re-open thiscontroversy, when all the generation who were her witnesses had passedfrom earth; and that it would re-open it in the most savage form ofaccusation, and with the indorsement and commendation of a book of thevilest slanders, edited by Lord Byron's mistress. 

Let the reader mark the retributions of justice. The accusations of the'Blackwood, ' in 1869, were simply an intensified form of those firstconcocted by Lord Byron in his 'Clytemnestra' poem of 1816. He forgedthat 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, LordByron himself, who, by his network of wiles, his ceaseless persecutionsof his wife, his efforts to extend his partisanship beyond the grave, hasbrought on this tumultuous exposure. He, and he alone, is the cause ofthis revelation. 

And now I have one word to say to those in England who, with all thefacts and documents in their hands which could at once have cleared LadyByron's fame, allowed the barbarous assault of the 'Blackwood' to go overthe civilised world without a reply. I speak to those who, knowing thatI am speaking the truth, stand silent; to those who have now the abilityto produce the facts and documents by which this cause might be instantlysettled, and who do not produce them. 

I do not judge them; but I remind them that a day is coming when they andI must stand side by side at the great judgment-seat, --I to give anaccount for my speaking, they for their silence. 

In that day, all earthly considerations will have vanished like morningmists, and truth or falsehood, justice or injustice, will be the onlyrealities. 

In that day, God, who will judge the secrets of all men, will judgebetween this man and this woman. Then, if never before, the full truthshall be told both of the depraved and dissolute man who made it hislife's object to defame the innocent, and the silent, the self-denyingwoman who made it her life's object to give space for repentance to theguilty. 

PART III. MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

THE TRUE STORY OF LADY BYRON'S LIFE, AS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN 'THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. '

The reading world of America has lately been presented with a book whichis said to sell rapidly, and which appears to meet with universal favour. 

The subject of the book may be thus briefly stated: The mistress of LordByron comes before the world for the sake of vindicating his fame fromslanders and aspersions cast on him by his wife. The story of themistress versus wife may be summed up as follows:--

Lord Byron, the hero of the story, is represented as a human beingendowed with every natural charm, gift, and grace, who, by the one falsestep of an unsuitable marriage, wrecked his whole life. A narrow-minded, cold-hearted precisian, without sufficient intellect to comprehend hisgenius, or heart to feel for his temptations, formed with him one ofthose mere worldly marriages common in high life; and, finding that shecould not reduce him to the mathematical proprieties and conventionalrules of her own mode of life, suddenly, and without warning, abandonedhim in the most cruel and inexplicable manner. 

It is alleged that she parted from him in apparent affection and good-humour, wrote him a playful, confiding letter upon the way, but, afterreaching her father's house, suddenly, and without explanation, announcedto him that she would never see him again; that this sudden abandonmentdrew down upon him a perfect storm of scandalous stories, which his wifenever contradicted; that she never in any way or shape stated what theexact reasons for her departure had been, and thus silently gave scope toall the malice of thousands of enemies. The sensitive victim wasactually driven from England, his home broken up, and he doomed to be alonely wanderer on foreign shores. 

In Italy, under bluer skies, and among a gentler people, with moretolerant modes of judgment, the authoress intimates that he found peaceand 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 forwhich he was so fitted. 

Soothed, calmed, and refreshed, he writes 'Don Juan, ' which the world isat this late hour informed was a poem with a high moral purpose, designedto be a practical illustration of the doctrine of total depravity amongyoung gentlemen in high life. 

Under the elevating influence of love, he rises at last to higher realmsof moral excellence, and resolves to devote the rest of his life to somenoble and heroic purpose; becomes the saviour of Greece; and diesuntimely, leaving a nation to mourn his loss. 

The authoress dwells with a peculiar bitterness on Lady Byron's entiresilence during all these years, as the most aggravated form ofpersecution and injury. She informs the world that Lord Byron wrote hisAutobiography with the purpose of giving a fair statement of the exacttruth in the whole matter; and that Lady Byron bought up the manuscriptof the publisher, and insisted on its being destroyed, unread; thusinflexibly depriving her husband of his last chance of a hearing beforethe tribunal of the public. 

As a result of this silent persistent cruelty on the part of a cold, correct, narrow-minded woman, the character of Lord Byron has beenmisunderstood, and his name transmitted to after-ages clouded withaspersions and accusations which it is the object of this book to remove. 

* * * * *

Such is the story of Lord Byron's mistress, --a story which is going thelength of this American continent, and rousing up new sympathy with thepoet, and doing its best to bring the youth of America once more underthe power of that brilliant, seductive genius, from which it was hopedthey had escaped. Already we are seeing it revamped inmagazine-articles, which take up the slanders of the paramour and enlargeon them, and wax eloquent in denunciation of the marble-heartedinsensible wife. 

All this while, it does not appear to occur to the thousands ofunreflecting readers that they are listening merely to the story of LordByron's mistress, and of Lord Byron; and that, even by their own showing, their heaviest accusation against Lady Byron is that she has not spokenat all. Her story has never been told. 

For many years after the rupture between Lord Byron and his wife, thatpoet's personality, fate, and happiness had an interest for the wholecivilized world, which, we will venture to say, was unparalleled. It iswithin the writer's recollection, how, in the obscure mountain-town whereshe spent her early days, Lord Byron's separation from his wife was, fora season, the all-engrossing topic. 

She remembers hearing her father recount at the breakfast-table the factsas they were given in the public papers, together with his ownsuppositions and theories of the causes. 

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. 

Madame de Stael said of this appeal, that she was sure it would havedrawn her at once to his heart and his arms; she could have forgiveneverything: and so said all the young ladies all over the world, not onlyin England but in France and Germany, wherever Byron's poetry appeared intranslation. 

Lady Byron's obdurate cold-heartedness in refusing even to listen to hisprayers, or to have any intercourse with him which might lead toreconciliation, was the one point conceded on all sides. 

The stricter moralists defended her; but gentler hearts throughout allthe world regarded her as a marble-hearted monster of correctness andmorality, a personification of the law unmitigated by the gospel. 

Literature in its highest walks busied itself with Lady Byron. Hogg, inthe character of the Ettrick Shepherd, devotes several eloquent passagesto expatiating on the conjugal fidelity of a poor Highland shepherd'swife, who, by patience and prayer and forgiveness, succeeds in reclaimingher drunken husband, and making a good man of him; and then points hismoral by contrasting with this touching picture the cold-heartedpharisaical correctness of Lady Byron. 

Moore, in his 'Life of Lord Byron, ' when beginning the recital of theseries of disgraceful amours which formed the staple of his life inVenice, has this passage:--

'Highly censurable in point of morality and decorum as was his course oflife while under the roof of Madame ----, it was (with pain I am forcedto confess) venial in comparison with the strange, headlong career oflicence to which, when weaned from that connection, he so unrestrainedly, and, it may be added, defyingly abandoned himself. Of the state of hismind on leaving England, I have already endeavoured to convey some idea;and among the feelings that went to make up that self-centred spirit ofresistance which he then opposed to his fate was an indignant scorn forhis own countrymen for the wrongs he thought they had done him. For atime, the kindly sentiments which he still harboured toward Lady Byron, and a sort of vague hope, perhaps, that all would yet come right again, kept his mind in a mood somewhat more softened and docile, as well assufficiently under the influence of English opinions to prevent hisbreaking out into open rebellion against it, as he unluckily didafterward. 

'By the failure of the attempted mediation with Lady Byron, his last linkwith home was severed: while, notwithstanding the quiet and unobtrusivelife which he led at Geneva, there was as yet, he found, no cessation ofthe slanderous warfare against his character; the same busy andmisrepresenting spirit which had tracked his every step at home, having, with no less malicious watchfulness, dogged him into exile. '

We should like to know what the misrepresentations and slanders must havebeen, when this sort of thing is admitted in Mr. Moore's justification. It seems to us rather wonderful how anybody, unless it were a person likethe Countess Guiccioli, could misrepresent a life such as even Byron'sfriend admits he was leading. 

During all these years, when he was setting at defiance every principleof morality and decorum, the interest of the female mind all over Europein the conversion of this brilliant prodigal son was unceasing, andreflects the greatest credit upon the faith of the sex. 

Madame de Stael commenced the first effort at evangelization immediatelyafter he left England, and found her catechumen in a most edifying stateof humility. He was, metaphorically, on his knees in penitence, andconfessed himself a miserable sinner in the loveliest manner possible. Such sweetness and humility took all hearts. His conversations withMadame de Stael were printed, and circulated all over the world; makingit to appear that only the inflexibility of Lady Byron stood in the wayof his entire conversion. 

Lady Blessington, among many others, took him in hand five or six yearsafterwards, and was greatly delighted with his docility, and edified byhis frank and free confessions of his miserable offences. Nothing nowseemed wanting to bring the wanderer home to the fold but a kind wordfrom Lady Byron. But, when the fair countess offered to mediate, thepoet only shook his head in tragic despair; 'he had so many times triedin vain; Lady Byron's course had been from the first that of obduratesilence. '

Any one who would wish to see a specimen of the skill of the honourablepoet in mystification will do well to read a letter to Lady Byron, whichLord Byron, on parting from Lady Blessington, enclosed for her to readjust before he went to Greece. He says, --

'The letter which I enclose I was prevented from sending by my despair ofits doing any good. I was perfectly sincere when I wrote it, and am sostill. But it is difficult for me to withstand the thousand provocationson that subject which both friends and foes have for seven years beenthrowing in the way of a man whose feelings were once quick, and whosetemper was never patient. '

* * * * *

'TO LADY BYRON, CARE OF THE HON. MRS. LEIGH, LONDON. 

 'PISA, Nov. 17, 1821. 

'I have to acknowledge the receipt of "Ada's hair, " which is very softand 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. 

'I also thank you for the inscription of the date and name; and I willtell you why: I believe that they are the only two or three words of yourhandwriting in my possession. For your letters I returned; and exceptthe two words, or rather the one word, "Household, " written twice in anold account book, I have no other. I burnt your last note, for tworeasons: firstly, it was written in a style not very agreeable; and, secondly, I wished to take your word without documents, which are theworldly resources of suspicious people. 

'I suppose that this note will reach you somewhere about Ada'sbirthday--the 10th of December, I believe. She will then be six: sothat, in about twelve more, I shall have some chance of meeting her;perhaps sooner, if I am obliged to go to England by business orotherwise. Recollect, however, one thing, either in distance ornearness--every day which keeps us asunder should, after so long aperiod, rather soften our mutual feelings; which must always have onerallying point as long as our child exists, which, I presume, we bothhope will be long after either of her parents. 

'The time which has elapsed since the separation has been considerablymore than the whole brief period of our union, and the not much longerone of our prior acquaintance. We both made a bitter mistake; but now itis over, and irrevocably so. For at thirty-three on my part, and fewyears less on yours, though it is no very extended period of life, stillit is one when the habits and thought are generally so formed as to admitof no modification; and, as we could not agree when younger, we shouldwith difficulty do so now. 

'I say all this, because I own to you, that notwithstanding everything, Iconsidered our reunion as not impossible for more than a year after theseparation; but then I gave up the hope entirely and for ever. But thisvery impossibility of reunion seems to me at least a reason why, on allthe few points of discussion which can arise between us, we shouldpreserve the courtesies of life, and as much of its kindness as peoplewho are never to meet may preserve, --perhaps more easily than nearerconnections. For my own part, I am violent, but not malignant; for onlyfresh provocations can awaken my resentments. To you, who are colder andmore concentrated, I would just hint, that you may sometimes mistake thedepth of a cold anger for dignity, and a worse feeling for duty. Iassure you that I bear you now (whatever I may have done) no resentmentwhatever. Remember, that, if you have injured me in aught, thisforgiveness is something; and that, if I have injured you, it issomething more still, if it be true, as the moralists say, that the mostoffending are the least forgiving. 

'Whether the offence has been solely on my side, or reciprocal, or onyours 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 referenceto myself, it will be better for all three. 

 'Yours ever, 'NOEL BYRON. '

The artless Thomas Moore introduces this letter in the 'Life, ' with theremark, --

'There are few, I should think, of my readers, who will not agree with mein pronouncing, that, if the author of the following letter had not righton his side, he had at least most of those good feelings which are foundin general to accompany it. '

The reader is requested to take notice of the important admission; thatthe letter was never sent to Lady Byron at all. It was, in fact, neverintended for her, but was a nice little dramatic performance, composedsimply with the view of acting on the sympathies of Lady Blessington andByron's numerous female admirers; and the reader will agree with us, wethink, that, in this point of view, it was very neatly done, and deservesimmortality as a work of high art. For six years he had been plungedinto 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 slanderwhich pursued him, while he filled letters to his confidentialcorrespondents with records of new mistresses. During all these years, the silence of Lady Byron was unbroken; though Lord Byron not only drewin private on the sympathies of his female admirers, but employed histalents and position as an author in holding her up to contempt andridicule before thousands of readers. We shall quote at length his sideof the story, which he published in the First Canto of 'Don Juan, ' thatthe reader may see how much reason he had for assuming the injured tonewhich he did in the letter to Lady Byron quoted above. That letter neverwas sent to her; and the unmanly and indecent caricature of her, and theindelicate exposure of the whole story on his own side, which we areabout to quote, were the only communications that could have reached hersolitude. 

In the following verses, Lady Byron is represented as Donna Inez, andLord Byron as Don Jose; but the incidents and allusions were so verypointed, that nobody for a moment doubted whose history the poet wasnarrating. 

 'His mother was a learned lady, famed For every branch of every science known In every Christian language ever named, With virtues equalled by her wit alone: She made the cleverest people quite ashamed; And even the good with inward envy groaned, Finding themselves so very much exceeded In their own way by all the things that she did. . . . . Save that her duty both to man and God Required this conduct; which seemed very odd. 

 She kept a journal where his faults were noted, And opened certain trunks of books and letters, (All which might, if occasion served, be quoted); And then she had all Seville for abettors, Besides her good old grandmother (who doted): The hearers of her case become repeaters, Then advocates, inquisitors, and judges, -- Some for amusement, others for old grudges. 

 And then this best and meekest woman bore With such serenity her husband's woes! Just as the Spartan ladies did of yore, Who saw their spouses killed, and nobly chose Never to say a word about them more. Calmly she heard each calumny that rose, And saw his agonies with such sublimity, That all the world exclaimed, "What magnanimity!"'

This is the longest and most elaborate version of his own story thatByron ever published; but he busied himself with many others, projectingat one time a Spanish romance, in which the same story is related in thesame transparent manner: but this he was dissuaded from printing. Thebooksellers, however, made a good speculation in publishing what theycalled his domestic poems; that is, poems bearing more or less relationto this subject. 

Every person with whom he became acquainted with any degree of intimacywas made familiar with his side of the story. Moore's Biography is fromfirst to last, in its representations, founded upon Byron'scommunicativeness, and Lady Byron's silence; and the world at lastsettled down to believing that the account so often repeated, and nevercontradicted, must be substantially a true one. 

The true history of Lord and Lady Byron has long been perfectlyunderstood in many circles in England; but the facts were of a naturethat could not be made public. While there was a young daughter livingwhose future might be prejudiced by its recital, and while there wereother persons on whom the disclosure of the real truth would have beencrushing as an avalanche, Lady Byron's only course was the perfectsilence in which she took refuge, and those sublime works of charity andmercy to which she consecrated her blighted early life. 

But the time is now come when the truth may be told. All the actors inthe scene have disappeared from the stage of mortal existence, andpassed, let us have faith to hope, into a world where they would desireto expiate their faults by a late publication of the truth. 

No person in England, we think, would as yet take the responsibility ofrelating the true history which is to clear Lady Byron's memory; but, bya singular concurrence of circumstances, all the facts of the case, inthe most undeniable and authentic form, were at one time placed in thehands of the writer of this sketch, with authority to make such use ofthem as she should judge best. Had this melancholy history been allowedto sleep, no public use would have been made of them; but the appearanceof a popular attack on the character of Lady Byron calls for avindication, and the true story of her married life will therefore now berelated. 

Lord Byron has described in one of his letters the impression left uponhis mind by a young person whom he met one evening in society, and whoattracted his attention by the simplicity of her dress, and a certain airof singular purity and calmness with which she surveyed the scene aroundher. 

On inquiry, he was told that this young person was Miss Milbanke, an onlychild, and one of the largest heiresses in England. 

Lord Byron was fond of idealising his experiences in poetry; and thefriends of Lady Byron had no difficulty in recognising the portrait ofLady Byron, as she appeared at this time of her life, in his exquisitedescription of Aurora Raby:--

 'There was Indeed a certain fair and fairy one, Of the best class, and better than her class, -- Aurora Raby, a young star who shone O'er life, too sweet an image for such glass; A lovely being scarcely formed or moulded; A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded. 

 . . . . 

 Early in years, and yet more infantine In figure, she had something of sublime In eyes which sadly shone as seraphs' shine; All youth, but with an aspect beyond time; Radiant and grave, as pitying man's decline; Mournful, but mournful of another's crime, She looked as if she sat by Eden's door, And grieved for those who could return no more. 

 . . . . 

 She gazed upon a world she scarcely knew, As seeking not to know it; silent, lone, As grows a flower, thus quietly she grew, And kept her heart serene within its zone. There was awe in the homage which she drew; Her spirit seemed as seated on a throne, Apart from the surrounding world, and strong In its own strength, --most strange in one so young!'

Some idea of the course which their acquaintance took, and of the mannerin which he was piqued into thinking of her, is given in a stanza ortwo:--

 'The dashing and proud air of Adeline Imposed not upon her: she saw her blaze Much as she would have seen a glow-worm shine; Then turned unto the stars for loftier rays. Juan was something she could not divine, Being no sibyl in the new world's ways; Yet she was nothing dazzled by the meteor, Because she did not pin her faith on feature. 

 His fame too (for he had that kind of fame Which sometimes plays the deuce with womankind, -- A heterogeneous mass of glorious blame, Half virtues and whole vices being combined; Faults which attract because they are not tame; Follies tricked out so brightly that they blind), -- These seals upon her wax made no impression, Such was her coldness or her self-possession. 

 Aurora sat with that indifference Which piques a preux chevalier, --as it ought. Of all offences, that's the worst offence Which seems to hint you are not worth a thought. 

 . . . . 

 To his gay nothings, nothing was replied, Or something which was nothing, as urbanity Required. Aurora scarcely looked aside, Nor even smiled enough for any vanity. The Devil was in the girl! Could it be pride, Or modesty, or absence, or inanity?

 . . . . 

 Juan was drawn thus into some attentions, Slight but select, and just enough to express, To females of perspicuous comprehensions, That he would rather make them more than less. Aurora at the last (so history mentions, Though probably much less a fact than guess) So far relaxed her thoughts from their sweet prison As once or twice to smile, if not to listen. 

 . . . . 

 But Juan had a sort of winning way, A proud humility, if such there be, Which showed such deference to what females say, As if each charming word were a decree. His tact, too, tempered him from grave to gay, And taught him when to be reserved or free. He had the art of drawing people out, Without their seeing what he was about. 

 Aurora, who in her indifference, Confounded him in common with the crowd Of flatterers, though she deemed he had more sense Than whispering foplings or than witlings loud, Commenced (from such slight things will great commence) To feel that flattery which attracts the proud, Rather by deference than compliment, And wins even by a delicate dissent. 

 And then he had good looks: that point was carried Nem. Con. Amongst the women. 

 . . . . 

 Now, though we know of old that looks deceive, And always have done, somehow these good looks, Make more impression than the best of books. 

 Aurora, who looked more on books than faces, Was very young, although so very sage: Admiring more Minerva than the Graces, Especially upon a printed page. But Virtue's self, with all her tightest laces, Has not the natural stays of strict old age; And Socrates, that model of all duty, Owned to a penchant, though discreet for beauty. '

The presence of this high-minded, thoughtful, unworldly woman isdescribed through two cantos of the wild, rattling 'Don Juan, ' in amanner that shows how deeply the poet was capable of being affected bysuch an appeal to his higher nature. 

For instance, when Don Juan sits silent and thoughtful amid a circle ofpersons who are talking scandal, the poet says, --

 ''Tis true, he saw Aurora look as though She approved his silence: she perhaps mistook Its motive for that charity we owe, But seldom pay, the absent. 

 . . . . 

 He gained esteem where it was worth the most; And certainly Aurora had renewed In him some feelings he had lately lost Or hardened, --feelings which, perhaps ideal, Are so divine that I must deem them real:--

 The love of higher things and better days; The unbounded hope and heavenly ignorance Of what is called the world and the world's ways; The moments when we gather from a glance More joy than from all future pride or praise, Which kindled manhood, but can ne'er entrance The heart in an existence of its own Of which another's bosom is the zone. 

 And full of sentiments sublime as billows Heaving between this world and worlds beyond, Don Juan, when the midnight hour of pillows Arrived, retired to his. ' . . . 

In all these descriptions of a spiritual unworldly nature acting on thespiritual and unworldly part of his own nature, every one who ever knewLady Byron intimately must have recognised the model from which he drew, and the experience from which he spoke, even though nothing was furtherfrom his mind than to pay this tribute to the woman he had injured, andthough before these lines, which showed how truly he knew her realcharacter, had come one stanza of ribald, vulgar caricature, designed asa slight to her:--

 'There was Miss Millpond, smooth as summer's sea, That usual paragon, an only daughter, Who seemed the cream of equanimity 'Till skimmed; and then there was some milk and water; With a slight shade of blue, too, it might be, Beneath the surface: but what did it matter? Love's riotous; but marriage should have quiet, And, being consumptive, live on a milk diet. '

The result of Byron's intimacy with Miss Milbanke and the enkindling ofhis nobler feelings was an offer of marriage, which she, though at thetime deeply interested in him, declined with many expressions offriendship and interest. In fact, she already loved him, but had thatdoubt of her power to be to him all that a wife should be, which would belikely to arise in a mind so sensitively constituted and so unworldly. They, however, continued a correspondence as friends; on her part, theinterest continually increased; on his, the transient rise of betterfeelings was choked and overgrown by the thorns of base unworthypassions. 

From the height at which he might have been happy as the husband of anoble woman, he fell into the depths of a secret adulterous intrigue witha blood relation, so near in consanguinity, that discovery must have beenutter ruin and expulsion from civilised society. 

From henceforth, this damning guilty secret became the ruling force inhis life; holding him with a morbid fascination, yet filling him withremorse and anguish, and insane dread of detection. Two years after hisrefusal by Miss Milbanke, his various friends, seeing that for some causehe was wretched, pressed marriage upon him. 

Marriage has often been represented as the proper goal and terminus of awild and dissipated career; and it has been supposed to be the appointedmission of good women to receive wandering prodigals, with all the ragsand 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 rightminds, to an honourable career in society. 

Marriage was, therefore, universally recommended to Lord Byron by hisnumerous friends and well-wishers; and so he determined to marry, and, inan hour of reckless desperation, sat down and wrote proposals to twoladies. One was declined: the other, which was accepted, was to MissMilbanke. The world knows well that he had the gift of expression, andwill not be surprised that he wrote a very beautiful letter, and that thewoman who had already learned to love him fell at once into the snare. 

Her answer was a frank, outspoken avowal of her love for him, givingherself to him heart and hand. The good in Lord Byron was not so utterlyobliterated that he could receive such a letter without emotion, orpractise such unfairness on a loving, trusting heart without pangs ofremorse. He had sent the letter in mere recklessness; he had notseriously expected to be accepted; and the discovery of the treasure ofaffection which he had secured was like a vision of lost heaven to a soulin hell. 

But, nevertheless, in his letters written about the engagement, there aresufficient evidences that his self-love was flattered at the preferenceaccorded 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 twoyears in refusing five or six of his acquaintance; that he had no ideashe loved him, admitting that it was an old attachment on his part. Hedwells on her virtues with a sort of pride of ownership. There is a sortof childish levity about the frankness of these letters, verycharacteristic of the man who skimmed over the deepest abysses with thelightest jests. Before the world, and to his intimates, he was actingthe part of the successful fiance, conscious all the while of the deadlysecret that lay cold at the bottom of his heart. 

When he went to visit Miss Milbanke's parents as her accepted lover, shewas struck with his manner and appearance: she saw him moody and gloomy, evidently wrestling with dark and desperate thoughts, and anything butwhat a happy and accepted lover should be. She sought an interview withhim alone, and told him that she had observed that he was not happy inthe engagement; and magnanimously added, that, if on review, he found hehad been mistaken in the nature of his feelings, she would immediatelyrelease him, and they should remain only friends. 

Overcome with the conflict of his feelings, Lord Byron fainted away. MissMilbanke was convinced that his heart must really be deeply involved inan attachment with reference to which he showed such strength of emotion, and she spoke no more of a dissolution of the engagement. 

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 withthe trusting young creature whom he was leading to a fate so awfullytragic; yet it was not the memory of Mary Chaworth, but another guiltierand more damning memory, that overshadowed that hour. 

The moment the carriage-doors were shut upon the bridegroom and thebride, the paroxysm of remorse and despair--unrepentant remorse and angrydespair--broke forth upon her gentle head:--

'You might have saved me from this, madam! You had all in your own powerwhen I offered myself to you first. Then you might have made me what youpleased; but now you will find that you have married a devil!'

In Miss Martineau's Sketches, recently published, is an account of thetermination of this wedding-journey, which brought them to one of LadyByron's ancestral country seats, where they were to spend the honeymoon. 

Miss Martineau says, --

'At the altar she did not know that she was a sacrifice; but beforesunset of that winter day she knew it, if a judgment may be formed fromher face, and attitude of despair, when she alighted from the carriage onthe afternoon of her marriage-day. It was not the traces of tears whichwon the sympathy of the old butler who stood at the open door. Thebridegroom jumped out of the carriage and walked away. The bridealighted, and came up the steps alone, with a countenance and frameagonized and listless with evident horror and despair. The old servantlonged to offer his arm to the young, lonely creature, as an assurance ofsympathy and protection. From this shock she certainly rallied, andsoon. The pecuniary difficulties of her new home were exactly what adevoted spirit like hers was fitted to encounter. Her husband boretestimony, after the catastrophe, that a brighter being, a moresympathising and agreeable companion, never blessed any man's home. Whenhe afterwards called her cold and mathematical, and over-pious, and soforth, it was when public opinion had gone against him, and when he haddiscovered 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. 

'Silent she was even to her own parents, whose feelings she magnanimouslyspared. She did not act rashly in leaving him, though she had been mostrash in marrying him. '

Not all at once did the full knowledge of the dreadful reality into whichshe had entered come upon the young wife. She knew vaguely, from thewild avowals of the first hours of their marriage, that there was adreadful secret of guilt; that Byron's soul was torn with agonies ofremorse, and that he had no love to give to her in return for a lovewhich was ready to do and dare all for him. Yet bravely she addressedherself to the task of soothing and pleasing and calming the man whom shehad taken 'for better or for worse. '

Young and gifted; with a peculiar air of refined and spiritual beauty;graceful in every movement; possessed of exquisite taste; a perfectcompanion to his mind in all the higher walks of literary culture; andwith that infinite pliability to all his varying, capricious moods whichtrue love alone can give; bearing in her hand a princely fortune, which, with a woman's uncalculating generosity, was thrown at his feet, --thereis no wonder that she might feel for a while as if she could enter thelists with the very Devil himself, and fight with a woman's weapons forthe heart of her husband. 

There are indications scattered through the letters of Lord Byron, which, though brief indeed, showed that his young wife was making every effortto accommodate herself to him, and to give him a cheerful home. One ofthe poems that he sends to his publisher about this time, he speaks of asbeing copied by her. He had always the highest regard for her literaryjudgments and opinions; and this little incident shows that she wasalready associating herself in a wifely fashion with his aims as anauthor. 

The poem copied by her, however, has a sad meaning, which she afterwardslearned to understand only too well:--

 'There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull decay: 'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone that fades so fast; But the tender bloom of heart is gone e'er youth itself be past. Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of happiness Are driven o'er the shoals of guilt, or ocean of excess: The magnet of their course is gone, or only points in vain The shore to which their shivered sail shall never stretch again. '

Only a few days before she left him for ever, Lord Byron sent Murraymanuscripts, in Lady Byron's handwriting, of the 'Siege of Corinth, ' and'Parisina, ' and wrote, --

'I am very glad that the handwriting was a favourable omen of the moraleof the piece: but you must not trust to that; for my copyist would writeout anything I desired, in all the ignorance of innocence. '

There were lucid intervals in which Lord Byron felt the charm of hiswife's mind, and the strength of her powers. 'Bell, you could be a poettoo, if you only thought so, ' he would say. There were summer-hours inher stormy life, the memory of which never left her, when Byron was asgentle and tender as he was beautiful; when he seemed to be possessed bya good angel: and then for a little time all the ideal possibilities ofhis nature stood revealed. 

The most dreadful men to live with are those who thus alternate betweenangel and devil. The buds of hope and love called out by a day or two ofsunshine are frozen again and again, till the tree is killed. 

But there came an hour of revelation, --an hour when, in a manner whichleft no kind of room for doubt, Lady Byron saw the full depth of theabyss of infamy which her marriage was expected to cover, and understoodthat she was expected to be the cloak and the accomplice of this infamy. 

Many women would have been utterly crushed by such a disclosure; somewould have fled from him immediately, and exposed and denounced thecrime. Lady Byron did neither. When all the hope of womanhood died outof her heart, there arose within her, stronger, purer, and brighter, thatimmortal kind of love such as God feels for the sinner, --the love ofwhich Jesus spoke, and which holds the one wanderer of more account thanthe ninety and nine that went not astray. She would neither leave herhusband nor betray him, nor yet would she for one moment justify his sin;and hence came two years of convulsive struggle, in which sometimes, fora while, the good angel seemed to gain ground, and then the evil onereturned with sevenfold vehemence. 

Lord Byron argued his case with himself and with her with all thesophistries of his powerful mind. He repudiated Christianity asauthority; asserted the right of every human being to follow out what hecalled 'the impulses of nature. ' Subsequently he introduced into one ofhis dramas the reasoning by which he justified himself in incest. 

In the drama of 'Cain, ' Adah, the sister and the wife of Cain, thusaddresses him:--

 'Cain, walk not with this spirit. Bear with what we have borne, and love me: I Love thee. 

 Lucifer. More than thy mother and thy sire?

 Adah. I do. Is that a sin, too?

 Lucifer. No, not yet: It one day will be in your children. 

 Adah. What! Must not my daughter love her brother Enoch?

 Lucifer. Not as thou lovest Cain. 

 Adah. O my God! Shall they not love, and bring forth things that love Out of their love? Have they not drawn their milk Out of this bosom? Was not he, their father, Born of the same sole womb, in the same hour With me? Did we not love each other, and, In multiplying our being, multiply Things which will love each other as we love Them? And as I love thee, my Cain, go not Forth with this spirit: he is not of ours. 

 Lucifer. The sin I speak of is not of my making And cannot be a sin in you, whate'er It seems in those who will replace ye in Mortality. 

 Adah. What is the sin which is not Sin in itself? Can circumstance make sin Of virtue? If it doth, we are the slaves Of'--

Lady Byron, though slight and almost infantine in her bodily presence, had the soul, not only of an angelic woman, but of a strong reasoningman. It was the writer's lot to know her at a period when she formed thepersonal acquaintance of many of the very first minds of England; but, among all with whom this experience brought her in connection, there wasnone who impressed her so strongly as Lady Byron. There was an almostsupernatural power of moral divination, a grasp of the very highest andmost comprehensive things, that made her lightest opinions singularlyimpressive. No doubt, this result was wrought out in a great degree fromthe anguish and conflict of these two years, when, with no one to help orcounsel her but Almighty God, she wrestled and struggled with fiends ofdarkness for the redemption of her husband's soul. 

She followed him through all his sophistical reasonings with a keenerreason. She besought and implored, in the name of his better nature, andby all the glorious things that he was capable of being and doing; andshe had just power enough to convulse and shake and agonise, but notpower enough to subdue. 

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 theconflict of a woman like Lady Byron with a nature like that of herhusband. She has described a being full of fascinations and sweetnesses, full of generosities and of good-natured impulses; a nature that couldnot bear to give pain, or to see it in others, but entirely destitute ofany firm moral principle; she shows how such a being, merely by yieldingstep by step to the impulses of passion, and disregarding the claims oftruth and right, becomes involved in a fatality of evil, in which deceit, crime, and cruelty are a necessity, forcing him to persist in the basestingratitude to the father who has done all for him, and hard-heartedtreachery to the high-minded wife who has given herself to him wholly. 

There are few scenes in literature more fearfully tragic than the onebetween Romola and Tito, when he finally discovers that she knows himfully, and can be deceived by him no more. Some such hour always mustcome for strong decided natures irrevocably pledged--one to the serviceof 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 totorment me before the time?' The presence of all-pitying purity and lovewas a torture to the soul possessed by the demon of evil. 

These two years in which Lady Byron was with all her soul struggling tobring her husband back to his better self were a series of passionateconvulsions. 

During this time, such was the disordered and desperate state of hisworldly affairs, that there were ten executions for debt levied on theirfamily establishment; and it was Lady Byron's fortune each time whichsettled the account. 

Toward the last, she and her husband saw less and less of each other; andhe came more and more decidedly under evil influences, and seemed toacquire a sort of hatred of her. 

Lady Byron once said significantly to a friend who spoke of somecauseless dislike in another, 'My dear, I have known people to be hatedfor no other reason than because they impersonated conscience. '

The biographers of Lord Byron, and all his apologists, are careful tonarrate how sweet and amiable and obliging he was to everybody whoapproached him; and the saying of Fletcher, his man-servant, that'anybody could do anything with my Lord, except my Lady, ' has often beenquoted. 

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 hadthe courage resolutely and persistently and inflexibly to plant herselfin his way, and insist upon it, that, if he went to destruction, itshould be in spite of her best efforts. 

He had tried his strength with her fully. The first attempt had been tomake her an accomplice by sophistry; by destroying her faith inChristianity, and confusing her sense of right and wrong, to bring herinto the ranks of those convenient women who regard the marriage-tie onlyas a friendly alliance to cover licence on both sides. 

When her husband described to her the Continental latitude (thegood-humoured marriage, in which complaisant couples mutually agreed toform the cloak for each other's infidelities), and gave her to understandthat in this way alone she could have a peaceful and friendly life withhim, she answered him simply, 'I am too truly your friend to do this. '

When Lord Byron found that he had to do with one who would not yield, whoknew him fully, who could not be blinded and could not be deceived, hedetermined to rid himself of her altogether. 

It was when the state of affairs between herself and her husband seemeddarkest and most hopeless, that the only child of this union was born. Lord Byron's treatment of his wife during the sensitive period thatpreceded the birth of this child, and during her confinement, was markedby paroxysms of unmanly brutality, for which the only possible charity onher part was the supposition of insanity. Moore sheds a significantlight on this period, by telling us that, about this time, Byron wasoften drunk, day after day, with Sheridan. There had been insanity inthe 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 theboundaries 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 wivesoften 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 hisbest friend; true to him with a truth which he himself could not shake. 

In the verses addressed to his daughter, Lord Byron speaks of her as

 'The child of love, though born in bitterness, And nurtured in convulsion. '

A day or two after the birth of this child, Lord Byron came suddenly intoLady Byron's room, and told her that her mother was dead. It was anutter falsehood; but it was only one of the many nameless injuries andcruelties by which he expressed his hatred of her. A short time afterher confinement, she was informed by him, in a note, that, as soon as shewas able to travel, she must go; that he could not and would not longerhave her about him; and, when her child was only five weeks old, hecarried this threat of expulsion into effect. 

Here we will insert briefly Lady Byron's own account (the only one sheever gave to the public) of this separation. The circumstances underwhich this brief story was written are affecting. 

Lord Byron was dead. The whole account between him and her was closedfor ever in this world. Moore's 'Life' had been prepared, containingsimply and solely Lord Byron's own version of their story. Moore sentthis version to Lady Byron, and requested to know if she had any remarksto make upon it. In reply, she sent a brief statement to him, --the firstand only one that had come from her during all the years of theseparation, and which appears to have mainly for its object theexculpation of her father and mother from the charge, made by the poet, of being the instigators of the separation. 

In this letter, she says, with regard to their separation, --

'The facts are, I left London for Kirkby Mallory, the residence of myfather and mother, on the 15th of January, 1816. LORD BYRON HADSIGNIFIED TO ME IN WRITING, JAN. 6, HIS ABSOLUTE DESIRE THAT I SHOULDLEAVE LONDON ON THE EARLIEST DAY THAT I COULD CONVENIENTLY FIX. It wasnot safe for me to undertake the fatigue of a journey sooner than the15th. Previously to my departure, it had been strongly impressed upon mymind that Lord Byron was under the influence of insanity. This opinionwas derived, in a great measure, from the communications made me by hisnearest relatives and personal attendant, who had more opportunity thanmyself for observing him during the latter part of my stay in town. Itwas even represented to me that he was in danger of destroying himself. 

'With the concurrence of his family, I had consulted Dr. Baillie as afriend (Jan. 8) respecting the supposed malady. On acquainting him withthe state of the case, and with Lord Byron's desire that I should leaveLondon, Dr. Baillie thought that my absence might be advisable as anexperiment, assuming the fact of mental derangement; for Dr. Baillie, nothaving had access to Lord Byron, could not pronounce a positive opinionon that point. He enjoined that, in correspondence with Lord Byron, Ishould 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 thetime of my marriage, yet, supposing him to be in a state of mentalalienation, it was not for me, nor for any person of common humanity, tomanifest at that moment a sense of injury. '

Nothing more than this letter from Lady Byron is necessary tosubstantiate the fact, that she did not leave her husband, but was drivenfrom him, --driven from him that he might give himself up to the guiltyinfatuation that was consuming him, without being tortured by herimploring face, and by the silent power of her presence and her prayers. 

For a long time before this, she had seen little of him. On the day ofher departure, she passed by the door of his room, and stopped to caresshis favourite spaniel, which was lying there; and she confessed to afriend the weakness of feeling a willingness even to be something ashumble as that poor little creature, might she only be allowed to remainand watch over him. She went into the room where he and the partner ofhis sins were sitting together, and said, 'Byron, I come to say goodbye, 'offering, at the same time, her hand. 

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, 'Whenshall we three meet again?' Lady Byron answered, 'In heaven, I trust'. And those were her last words to him on earth. 

Now, if the reader wishes to understand the real talents of Lord Byronfor deception and dissimulation, let him read, with this story in hismind, the 'Fare thee well, ' which he addressed to Lady Byron through theprinter:--

 'Fare thee well; and if for ever, Still for ever fare thee well! Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. 

 Would that breast were bared before thee Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thee Thou canst never know again!

 Though my many faults defaced me, Could no other arm be found Than the one which once embraced me To inflict a careless wound?'

The re-action of society against him at the time of the separation fromhis wife was something which he had not expected, and for which, itappears, he was entirely unprepared. It broke up the guilty intrigue anddrove him from England. He had not courage to meet or endure it. Theworld, to be sure, was very far from suspecting what the truth was: butthe tide was setting against him with such vehemence as to make himtremble every hour lest the whole should be known; and henceforth, itbecame a warfare of desperation to make his story good, no matter atwhose expense. 

He had tact enough to perceive at first that the assumption of thepathetic and the magnanimous, and general confessions of faults, accompanied with admissions of his wife's goodness, would be the bestpolicy in his case. In this mood, he thus writes to Moore:--

'The fault was not in my choice (unless in choosing at all); for I do notbelieve (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 moreamiable, agreeable being than Lady Byron. I never had, nor can have, anyreproach to make her while with me. Where there is blame, it belongs tomyself. '

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 ofstirring up strife on a friend and former governess of Lady Byron's; butin this sketch he introduces the following just eulogy on Lady Byron:--

 'Foiled was perversion by that youthful mind Which flattery fooled not, baseness could not blind, Deceit infect not, near contagion soil, Indulgence weaken, nor example spoil, Nor mastered science tempt her to look down On humbler talents with a pitying frown, Nor genius swell, nor beauty render vain, Nor envy ruffle to retaliate pain, Nor fortune change, pride raise, nor passion bow, Nor virtue teach austerity, --till now; Serenely purest of her sex that live, But wanting one sweet weakness, --to forgive; Too shocked at faults her soul can never know, She deemed that all could be like her below: Foe to all vice, yet hardly Virtue's friend; For Virtue pardons those she would amend. '

In leaving England, Lord Byron first went to Switzerland, where heconceived and in part wrote out the tragedy of 'Manfred. ' Moore speaksof his domestic misfortunes, and the sufferings which he underwent atthis time, as having influence in stimulating his genius, so that he wasenabled to write with a greater power. 

Anybody who reads the tragedy of 'Manfred' with this story in his mindwill see that it is true. 

The hero is represented as a gloomy misanthrope, dwelling with impenitentremorse on the memory of an incestuous passion which has been thedestruction 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 whilehe sees the fiends of darkness rising to take possession of his departingsoul. That Byron knew his own guilt well, and judged himself severely, may be gathered from passages in this poem, which are as powerful ashuman language can be made; for instance this part of the 'incantation, 'which Moore says was written at this time:--

 'Though thy slumber may be deep, Yet thy spirit shall not sleep: There are shades which will not vanish; There are thoughts thou canst not banish. By a power to thee unknown, Thou canst never be alone: Thou art wrapt as with a shroud; Thou art gathered in a cloud; And for ever shalt thou dwell In the spirit of this spell. 

 . . . . 

 From thy false tears I did distil An essence which had strength to kill; From thy own heart I then did wring The black blood in its blackest spring; From thy own smile I snatched the snake, For there it coiled as in a brake; From thy own lips I drew the charm Which gave all these their chiefest harm: In proving every poison known, I found the strongest was thine own. 

 By thy cold breast and serpent smile, By thy unfathomed gulfs of guile, By that most seeming virtuous eye, By thy shut soul's hypocrisy, By the perfection of thine art Which passed for human thine own heart, By thy delight in other's pain, And by thy brotherhood of Cain, I call upon thee, and compel Thyself to be thy proper hell!'

Again: he represents Manfred as saying to the old abbot, who seeks tobring him to repentance, --

 'Old man, there is no power in holy men, Nor charm in prayer, nor purifying form Of penitence, nor outward look, nor fast, Nor agony, nor greater than all these, The innate tortures of that deep despair, Which is remorse without the fear of hell, But, all in all sufficient to itself, Would make a hell of heaven, can exorcise From out the unbounded spirit the quick sense Of its own sins, wrongs, sufferance, and revenge Upon itself: there is no future pang Can deal that justice on the self-condemned He deals on his own soul. '

And when the abbot tells him, 'All this is well; For this will pass away, and be succeeded By an auspicious hope, which shall look up With calm assurance to that blessed place Which all who seek may win, whatever be Their earthly errors, '

he answers, 'It is too late. '

Then the old abbot soliloquises:--

 'This should have been a noble creature: he Hath all the energy which would have made A goodly frame of glorious elements, Had they been wisely mingled; as it is, It is an awful chaos, --light and darkness, And mind and dust, and passions and pure thoughts, Mixed, and contending without end or order. '

The world can easily see, in Moore's Biography, what, after this, was thecourse of Lord Byron's life; how he went from shame to shame, anddishonour to dishonour, and used the fortune which his wife brought himin the manner described in those private letters which his biographer wasleft to print. Moore, indeed, says Byron had made the resolution not totouch his lady's fortune; but adds, that it required more self-commandthan he possessed to carry out so honourable a purpose. 

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 followhim out of England, and that the ruinous intrigue should be given up. Herinflexibility on this point kept up that enmity which was constantlyexpressing itself in some publication or other, and which drew her andher private relations with him before the public. 

The story of what Lady Byron did with the portion of her fortune whichwas reserved to her is a record of noble and skilfully administeredcharities. Pitiful and wise and strong, there was no form of humansuffering or sorrow that did not find with her refuge and help. She gavenot only systematically, but also impulsively. 

Miss Martineau claims for her the honour of having first inventedpractical schools, in which the children of the poor were turned intoagriculturists, artizans, seamstresses, and good wives for poor men. While she managed with admirable skill and economy permanent institutionsof this sort, she was always ready to relieve suffering in any form. Thefugitive slaves William and Ellen Crafts, escaping to England, werefostered by her protecting care. 

In many cases where there was distress or anxiety from poverty amongthose too self-respecting to make their sufferings known, the delicatehand of Lady Byron ministered to the want with a consideration whichspared the most refined feelings. 

As a mother, her course was embarrassed by peculiar trials. The daughterinherited from the father not only brilliant talents, but a restlessnessand morbid sensibility which might be too surely traced to the storms andagitations of the period in which she was born. It was necessary tobring her up in ignorance of the true history of her mother's life; andthe consequence was that she could not fully understand that mother. 

During her early girlhood, her career was a source of more anxiety thanof comfort. She married a man of fashion, ran a brilliant course as agay woman of fashion, and died early of a lingering and painful disease. 

In the silence and shaded retirement of the sick-room, the daughter camewholly back to her mother's arms and heart; and it was on that mother'sbosom that she leaned as she went down into the dark valley. It was thatmother who placed her weak and dying hand in that of her AlmightySaviour. 

To the children left by her daughter, she ministered with thefaithfulness of a guardian angel; and it is owing to her influence thatthose who yet remain are among the best and noblest of mankind. 

The person whose relations with Byron had been so disastrous, also, inthe latter years of her life, felt Lady Byron's loving and ennoblinginfluences, and, in her last sickness and dying hours, looked to her forconsolation and help. 

There was an unfortunate child of sin, born with the curse upon her, overwhose wayward nature Lady Byron watched with a mother's tenderness. Shewas the one who could have patience when the patience of every one elsefailed; and though her task was a difficult one, from the strangeabnormal propensities to evil in the object of her cares, yet Lady Byronnever faltered, and never gave over, till death took the responsibilityfrom her hands. 

During all this trial, strange to say, her belief that the good in LordByron would finally conquer was unshaken. 

To a friend who said to her, 'Oh! how could you love him?' she answeredbriefly, 'My dear, there was the angel in him. ' It is in us all. 

It was in this angel that she had faith. It was for the deliverance ofthis angel from degradation and shame and sin that she unceasinglyprayed. She read every work that Byron wrote--read it with a deeperknowledge than any human being but herself could possess. The ribaldryand the obscenity and the insults with which he strove to make herridiculous in the world fell at her pitying feet unheeded. 

When he broke away from all this unworthy life to devote himself to amanly enterprise for the redemption of Greece, she thought that she sawthe beginning of an answer to her prayers. Even although one of hislatest acts concerning her was to repeat to Lady Blessington the falseaccusation which made Lady Byron the author of all his errors, she stillhad hopes from the one step taken in the right direction. 

In the midst of these hopes came the news of his sudden death. On hisdeath-bed, it is well-known that he called his confidential Englishservant to him, and said to him, 'Go to my sister; tell her--Go to LadyByron, --you will see her, --and say'--

Here followed twenty minutes of indistinct mutterings, in which the namesof his wife, daughter, and sister, frequently occurred. He then said, 'Now I have told you all. '

'My lord, ' replied Fletcher, 'I have not understood a word your lordshiphas been saying. '

'Not understand me!' exclaimed Lord Byron with a look of the utmostdistress: 'what a pity! Then it is too late, --all is over!' Heafterwards, says Moore, tried to utter a few words, of which none wereintelligible except 'My sister--my child. '

When Fletcher returned to London, Lady Byron sent for him, and walked theroom in convulsive struggles to repress her tears and sobs, while sheover and over again strove to elicit something from him which shouldenlighten her upon what that last message had been; but in vain: thegates of eternity were shut in her face, and not a word had passed totell her if he had repented. 

For all that, Lady Byron never doubted his salvation. Ever before her, during the few remaining years of her widowhood, was the image of herhusband, purified and ennobled, with the shadows of earth for everdissipated, the stains of sin for ever removed; 'the angel in him, ' asshe expressed it, 'made perfect, according to its divine ideal. '

Never has more divine strength of faith and love existed in woman. Outof the depths of her own loving and merciful nature, she gained suchviews of the divine love and mercy as made all hopes possible. There wasno soul of whose future Lady Byron despaired, --such was her boundlessfaith in the redeeming power of love. 

After Byron's death, the life of this delicate creature--so frail in bodythat she seemed always hovering on the brink of the eternal world, yet sostrong in spirit, and so unceasing in her various ministries of mercy--wasa miracle of mingled weakness and strength. 

To talk with her seemed to the writer of this sketch the nearest possibleapproach to talking with one of the spirits of the just made perfect. 

She was gentle, artless; approachable as a little child; with ready, outflowing sympathy for the cares and sorrows and interests of all whoapproached her; with a naive 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 forright in the slightest shade, yet with a mercifulness that made allowancefor every weakness, and pitied every sin. 

There was so much of Christ in her, that to have seen her seemed to be tohave drawn near to heaven. She was one of those few whom absence cannotestrange from friends; whose mere presence in this world seems always ahelp to every generous thought, a strength to every good purpose, acomfort in every sorrow. 

Living so near the confines of the spiritual world, she seemed already tosee into it: hence the words of comfort which she addressed to a friendwho had lost a son:--

'Dear friend, remember, as long as our loved ones are in God's world, they are in ours. '

* * * * *

It has been thought by some friends who have read the proof-sheets of theforegoing that the author should give more specifically her authority forthese statements. 

The circumstances which led the writer to England at a certain timeoriginated a friendship and correspondence with Lady Byron, which wasalways regarded as one of the greatest acquisitions of that visit. 

On the occasion of a second visit to England, in 1856, the writerreceived a note from Lady Byron, indicating that she wished to have someprivate, confidential conversation upon important subjects, and invitingher, for that purpose, to spend a day with her at her country-seat nearLondon, The writer went and spent a day with Lady Byron alone; and the object ofthe invitation was explained to her. Lady Byron was in such a state ofhealth, that her physicians had warned her that she had very little timeto live. She was engaged in those duties and retrospections which everythoughtful person finds necessary, when coming deliberately, and withopen eyes, to the boundaries of this mortal life. 

At that time, there was a cheap edition of Byron's works incontemplation, intended to bring his writings into circulation among themasses; and the pathos arising from the story of his domestic misfortuneswas one great means relied on for giving it currency. 

Under these circumstances, some of Lady Byron's friends had proposed thequestion to her, whether she had not a responsibility to society for thetruth; whether she did right to allow these writings to gain influenceover the popular mind by giving a silent consent to what she knew to beutter falsehoods. 

Lady Byron's whole life had been passed in the most heroicself-abnegation and self-sacrifice: and she had now to consider whetherone more act of self-denial was not required of her before leaving thisworld; namely, to declare the absolute truth, no matter at what expenseto her own feelings. 

For this reason, it was her desire to recount the whole history to aperson of another country, and entirely out of the sphere of personal andlocal feelings which might be supposed to influence those in the countryand station in life where the events really happened, in order that shemight be helped by such a person's views in making up an opinion as toher own duty. 

The interview had almost the solemnity of a death-bed avowal. Lady Byronstated the facts which have been embodied in this article, and gave tothe writer a paper containing a brief memorandum of the whole, with thedates affixed. 

We have already spoken of that singular sense of the reality of thespiritual world which seemed to encompass Lady Byron during the last partof her life, and which made her words and actions seem more like those ofa blessed being detached from earth than of an ordinary mortal. All hermodes of looking at things, all her motives of action, all herinvoluntary exhibitions of emotion, were so high above any common level, and so entirely regulated by the most unworldly causes, that it wouldseem difficult to make the ordinary world understand exactly how thething seemed to lie before her mind. What impressed the writer morestrongly than anything else was Lady Byron's perfect conviction that herhusband was now a redeemed spirit; that he looked back with pain andshame and regret on all that was unworthy in his past life; and that, ifhe could speak or could act in the case, he would desire to prevent thefurther circulation of base falsehoods, and of seductive poetry, whichhad been made the vehicle of morbid and unworthy passions. 

Lady Byron's experience had led her to apply the powers of her strongphilosophical mind to the study of mental pathology: and she had becomesatisfied that the solution of the painful problem which first occurredto her as a young wife, was, after all, the true one; namely, that LordByron had been one of those unfortunately constituted persons in whom thebalance of nature is so critically hung, that it is always in danger ofdipping towards insanity; and that, in certain periods of his life, hewas so far under the influence of mental disorder as not to be fullyresponsible for his actions. 

She went over with a brief and clear analysis the history of his wholelife as she had thought it out during the lonely musings of herwidowhood. She dwelt on the ancestral causes that gave him a nature ofexceptional and dangerous susceptibility. She went through themismanagements of his childhood, the history of his school-days, theinfluence of the ordinary school-course of classical reading on such amind as his. She sketched boldly and clearly the internal life of theyoung men of the time, as she, with her purer eyes, had looked throughit; and showed how habits, which, with less susceptible fibre, andcoarser strength of nature, were tolerable for his companions, weredeadly to him, unhinging his nervous system, and intensifying the dangersof ancestral proclivities. Lady Byron expressed the feeling too, thatthe Calvinistic theology, as heard in Scotland, had proved in his case, as it often does in certain minds, a subtle poison. He never couldeither disbelieve or become reconciled to it; and the sore problems itproposes embittered his spirit against Christianity. 

'The worst of it is, I do believe, ' he would often say with violence, when he had been employing all his powers of reason, wit, and ridiculeupon these subjects. 

Through all this sorrowful history was to be seen, not the care of aslandered woman to make her story good, but the pathetic anxiety of amother, who treasures every particle of hope, every intimation of good, in the son whom she cannot cease to love. With indescribableresignation, she dwelt on those last hours, those words addressed to her, never to be understood till repeated in eternity. 

But all this she looked upon as for ever past; believing, that, with thedropping of the earthly life, these morbid impulses and influencesceased, and that higher nature which he often so beautifully expressed inhis poems became the triumphant one. 

While speaking on this subject, her pale ethereal face became luminouswith a heavenly radiance; there was something so sublime in her belief inthe victory of love over evil, that faith with her seemed to have becomesight. She seemed so clearly to perceive the divine ideal of the man shehad loved, and for whose salvation she had been called to suffer andlabour and pray, that all memories of his past unworthiness fell away, and were lost. 

Her love was never the doting fondness of weak women; it was theappreciative and discriminating love by which a higher nature recognisedgod-like capabilities under all the dust and defilement of misuse andpassion: 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 whomade her capable of such a devotion, and that in him it was accompaniedby power to subdue all things to itself. 

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 anyopinion. She took the memorandum with her, returned to London, and gavea day or two to the consideration of the subject. The decision which shemade was chiefly influenced by her reverence and affection for LadyByron. She seemed so frail, she had suffered so much, she stood at sucha height above the comprehension of the coarse and common world, that theauthor had a feeling that it would almost be like violating a shrine toask her to come forth from the sanctuary of a silence where she had solong abode, and plead her cause. She wrote to Lady Byron, that whilethis act of justice did seem to be called for, and to be in some respectsmost desirable, yet, as it would involve so much that was painful to her, the writer considered that Lady Byron would be entirely justifiable inleaving the truth to be disclosed after her death; and recommended thatall the facts necessary should be put in the hands of some person, to beso published. 

Years passed on. Lady Byron lingered four years after this interview, tothe wonder of her physicians and all her friends. 

After Lady Byron's death, the writer looked anxiously, hoping to see aMemoir of the person whom she considered the most remarkable woman thatEngland has produced in the century. No such Memoir has appeared on thepart of her friends; and the mistress of Lord Byron has the ear of thepublic, and is sowing far and wide unworthy slanders, which are eagerlygathered up and read by an undiscriminating community. 

There may be family reasons in England which prevent Lady Byron's friendsfrom speaking. But Lady Byron has an American name and an Americanexistence; and reverence for pure womanhood is, we think, a nationalcharacteristic of the American; and, so far as this country is concerned, we feel that the public should have this refutation of the slanders ofthe Countess Guiccioli's book. 

LORD LINDSAY'S LETTER TO THE LONDON 'TIMES. 'TO THE EDITOR OF 'THE TIMES. '

SIR, --I have waited in expectation of a categorical denial of thehorrible charge brought by Mrs. Beecher Stowe against Lord Byron and hissister on the alleged authority of the late Lady Byron. Such denial hasbeen only indirectly given by the letter of Messrs. Wharton and Fords inyour impression of yesterday. That letter is sufficient to prove thatLady Byron never contemplated the use made of her name, and that herdescendants and representatives disclaim any countenance of Mrs. B. Stowe's article; but it does not specifically meet Mrs. Stowe'sallegation, that Lady Byron, in conversing with her thirteen years ago, affirmed the charge now before us. It remains open, therefore, to ascandal-loving world, to credit the calumny through the advantage of thisflaw, involuntary, I believe, in the answer produced against it. Myobject in addressing you is to supply that deficiency by proving thatwhat is now stated on Lady Byron's supposed authority is at variance, inall respects, with what she stated immediately after the separation, wheneverything was fresh in her memory in relation to the time during which, according to Mrs. B. Stowe, she believed that Byron and his sister wereliving together in guilt. I publish this evidence with reluctance, butin obedience to that higher obligation of justice to the voiceless anddefenceless dead which bids me break through a reserve that otherwise Ishould have held sacred. The Lady Byron of 1818 would, I am certain, have sanctioned my doing so, had she foreseen the present unparalleledoccasion, and the bar that the conditions of her will present (as I inferfrom Messrs Wharton and Fords' letter) against any fuller communication. Calumnies such as the present sink deep and with rapidity into the publicmind, and are not easily eradicated. The fame of one of our greatestpoets, and that of the kindest and truest and most constant friend thatByron ever had, is at stake; and it will not do to wait for revelationsfrom the fountain-head, which are not promised, and possibly may neverreach us. 

The late Lady Anne Barnard, who died in 1825, a contemporary and friendof Burke, Windham, Dundas, and a host of the wise and good of thatgeneration, and remembered in letters as the authoress of 'Auld RobinGray, ' had known the late Lady Byron from infancy, and took a warminterest in her; holding Lord Byron in corresponding repugnance, not tosay prejudice, in consequence of what she believed to be his harsh andcruel treatment of her young friend. I transcribe the followingpassages, and a letter from Lady Byron herself (written in 1818) fromricordi, or private family memoirs, in Lady Anne's autograph, now beforeme. I include the letter, because, although treating only in generalterms of the matter and causes of the separation, it affords collateralevidence bearing strictly upon the point of the credibility of the chargenow in question:--

'The separation of Lord and Lady Byron astonished the world, whichbelieved him a reformed man as to his habits, and a becalmed man as tohis remorses. He had written nothing that appeared after his marriagetill the famous "Fare thee well, " which had the power of compelling thoseto pity the writer who were not well aware that he was not the unhappyperson he affected to be. Lady Byron's misery was whispered soon afterher 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, assoon as she was recovered, on a visit to her father's, taking her littleAda with her, no one knew that it was to return to her lord no more. Atthat period, a severe fit of illness had confined me to bed for twomonths. I heard of Lady Byron's distress; of the pains he took to give aharsh impression of her character to the world. I wrote to her, andentreated her to come and let me see and hear her, if she conceived mysympathy or counsel could be any comfort to her. She came; but what atale was unfolded by this interesting young creature, who had so fondlyhoped 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 themfrom the church, when, breaking into a malignant sneer, "Oh! what a dupeyou have been to your imagination! How is it possible a woman of yoursense could form the wild hope of reforming me? Many are the tears youwill have to shed ere that plan is accomplished. It is enough for methat you are my wife for me to hate you! If you were the wife of anyother man, I own you might have charms, " etc. I who listened wasastonished. "How could you go on after this, " said I, "my dear? Why didyou not return to your father's?" "Because I had not a conception he wasin earnest; because I reckoned it a bad jest, and told him so, --that myopinions of him were very different from his of himself, otherwise hewould not find me by his side. He laughed it over when he saw me appearhurt: and I forgot what had passed, till forced to remember it. Ibelieve he was pleased with me, too, for a little while. I suppose ithad escaped his memory that I was his wife. " But she described thehappiness they enjoyed to have been unequal and perturbed. Hersituation, in a short time, might have entitled her to some tenderness;but she made no claim on him for any. He sometimes reproached her forthe motives that had induced her to marry him: all was "vanity, thevanity of Miss Milbanke carrying the point of reforming Lord Byron! Healways knew her inducements; her pride shut her eyes to his: he wished tobuild up his character and his fortunes; both were somewhat deranged: shehad a high name, and would have a fortune worth his attention, --let herlook to that for his motives!"--"O Byron, Byron!" she said, "how youdesolate me!" He would then accuse himself of being mad, and throwhimself on the ground in a frenzy, which she believed was affected toconceal the coldness and malignity of his heart, --an affectation which atthat time never failed to meet with the tenderest commiseration. I couldfind by some implications, not followed up by me, lest she might havecondemned herself afterwards for her involuntary disclosures, that hesoon attempted to corrupt her principles, both with respect to her ownconduct and her latitude for his. She saw the precipice on which shestood, and kept his sister with her as much as possible. He returned inthe evenings from the haunts of vice, where he made her understand he hadbeen, with manners so profligate! "O the wretch!" said I. "And had heno moments of remorse?" "Sometimes he appeared to have them. One night, coming home from one of his lawless parties, he saw me so indignantlycollected, and bearing all with such a determined calmness, that a rushof remorse seemed to come over him. He called himself a monster, thoughhis sister was present, and threw himself in agony at my feet. I couldnot--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 hisface, and I said, 'Byron, all is forgotten: never, never shall you hearof 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 philosophicalexperiment; that's all, ' said he. 'I wished to ascertain the value ofyour resolutions. '" I need not say more of this prince of duplicity, except that varied were his methods of rendering her wretched, even tothe last. When her lovely little child was born, and it was laid besideits 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 thatbroke from him: "Oh, what an implement of torture have I acquired inyou!" Such he rendered it by his eyes and manner, keeping her in aperpetual alarm for its safety when in his presence. All this readsmadder than I believe he was: but she had not then made up her mind todisbelieve his pretended insanity, and conceived it best to intrust hersecret with the excellent Dr. Baillie; telling him all that seemed toregard the state of her husband's mind, and letting his advice regulateher conduct. Baillie doubted of his derangement; but, as he did notreckon his own opinion infallible, he wished her to take precautions asif her husband were so. He recommended her going to the country, but togive him no suspicion of her intentions of remaining there, and, for ashort time, to show no coldness in her letters, till she could betterascertain his state. She went, regretting, as she told me, to wear anysemblance 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 resentmentand by the arts of a governess (once a servant in the family) who hatedhim. "I will give you, " proceeds Lady Anne, "a few paragraphstranscribed from one of Lady Byron's own letters to me. It is sorrowfulto think, that, in a very little time, this young and amiable creature, wise, patient, and feeling, will have her character mistaken by every onewho reads Byron's works. To rescue her from this, I preserved herletters; and, when she afterwards expressed a fear that any thing of herwritings should ever fall into hands to injure him (I suppose she meantby publication), I safely assured her that it never should. But herethis letter shall be placed, a sacred record in her favour, unknown toherself:--

'"I am a very incompetent judge of the impression which the last canto of'Childe Harold' may produce on the minds of indifferent readers. Itcontains the usual trace of a conscience restlessly awake; though hisobject has been too long to aggravate its burden, as if it could thus beoppressed into eternal stupor. I will hope, as you do, that it survivesfor his ultimate good. It was the acuteness of his remorse, impenitentin its character, which so long seemed to demand from my compassion tospare every resemblance of reproach, every look of grief, which mighthave said to his conscience, 'You have made me wretched. ' I am decidedlyof opinion that he is responsible. He has wished to be thought partiallyderanged, or on the brink of it, to perplex observers, and prevent themfrom tracing effects to their real causes through all the intricacies ofhis conduct. I was, as I told you, at one time the dupe of his actedinsanity, and clung to the former delusions in regard to the motives thatconcerned me personally, till the whole system was laid bare. He is theabsolute monarch of words, and uses them, as Bonaparte did lives, forconquest, without more regard to their intrinsic value; considering themonly as ciphers, which must derive all their import from the situation inwhich he places them, and the ends to which he adapts them with suchconsummate skill. Why, then, you will say, does he not employ them togive a better colour to his own character? Because he is too good anactor to over-act, or to assume a moral garb which it would be easy tostrip off. In regard to his poetry, egotism is the vital principle ofhis imagination, which it is difficult for him to kindle on any subjectwith which his own character and interests are not identified: but by theintroduction of fictitious incidents, by change of scene or time, he hasenveloped his poetical disclosures in a system impenetrable except to avery few; and his constant desire of creating a sensation makes him notaverse to be the object of wonder and curiosity, even though accompaniedby some dark and vague suspicions. Nothing has contributed more to themisunderstanding of his real character than the lonely grandeur in whichhe shrouds it, and his affectation of being above mankind, when he existsalmost in their voice. The romance of his sentiments is another featureof this mask of state. I know no one more habitually destitute of thatenthusiasm he so beautifully expresses, and to which he can work up hisfancy chiefly by contagion. I had heard he was the best of brothers, themost generous of friends; and I thought such feelings only required to bewarmed and cherished into more diffusive benevolence. Though theseopinions are eradicated, and could never return but with the decay of mymemory, you will not wonder if there are still moments when theassociation of feelings which arose from them soften and sadden mythoughts. But I have not thanked you, dearest Lady Anne, for yourkindness in regard to a principal object, --that of rectifying falseimpressions. I trust you understand my wishes, which never were toinjure Lord Byron in any way: for, though he would not suffer me toremain his wife, he cannot prevent me from continuing his friend; and itwas from considering myself as such that I silenced the accusations bywhich my own conduct might have been more fully justified. It is notnecessary to speak ill of his heart in general: it is sufficient that tome it was hard and impenetrable; that my own must have been broken beforehis could have been touched. I would rather represent this as mymisfortune than as his guilt; but surely that misfortune is not to bemade my crime! Such are my feelings: you will judge how to act. Hisallusions to me in 'Childe Harold' are cruel and cold, but with such asemblance as to make me appear so, and to attract all sympathy tohimself. It is said in this poem that hatred of him will be taught as alesson to his child. I might appeal to all who have ever heard me speakof him, and still more to my own heart, to witness that there has been nomoment when I have remembered injury otherwise than affectionately andsorrowfully. It is not my duty to give way to hopeless and whollyunrequited affection; but, so long as I live, my chief struggle willprobably be not to remember him too kindly. I do not seek the sympathyof 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, youwill ever be remembered by your truly affectionate, '"A. BYRON. "'

It is the province of your readers, and of the world at large, to judgebetween the two testimonies now before them, --Lady Byron's in 1816 and1818, and that put forward in 1869 by Mrs. B. Stowe, as communicated byLady Byron thirteen years ago. In the face of the evidence now given, positive, negative, and circumstantial, there can be but two alternativesin the case: either Mrs. B. Stowe must have entirely misunderstood LadyByron, and been thus led into error and misstatement; or we must concludethat, under the pressure of a lifelong and secret sorrow, Lady Byron'smind had become clouded with an hallucination in respect of theparticular point in question. 

The reader will admire the noble but severe character displayed in LadyByron's letter; but those who keep in view what her first impressionswere, as above recorded, may probably place a more lenient interpretationthan hers upon some of the incidents alleged to Byron's discredit. Ishall conclude with some remarks upon his character, written shortlyafter his death by a wise, virtuous, and charitable judge, the late SirWalter Scott, likewise in a letter to Lady Anne Barnard:--

'Fletcher's account of poor Byron is extremely interesting. I had alwaysa 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, whichsometimes approached nearly to mental disease. Those who are gifted withstrong nerves, a regular temper, and habitual self-command, are not, perhaps, aware how much of what they may think virtue they owe toconstitution; and such are but too severe judges of men like Byron, whosemind, like a day of alternate storm and sunshine, is all dark shades andstray gleams of light, instead of the twilight gray which illuminateshappier though less distinguished mortals. I always thought, that, whena moral proposition was placed plainly before Lord Byron, his mindyielded a pleased and willing assent to it; but, if there was any sideview given in the way of raillery or otherwise, he was willing enough toevade conviction . . . . It augurs ill for the cause of Greece that thismaster-spirit should have been withdrawn from their assistance just as hewas obtaining a complete ascendancy over their counsels. I have seenseveral letters from the Ionian Islands, all of which unite in speakingin the highest praise of the wisdom and temperance of his counsels, andthe ascendancy he was obtaining over the turbulent and ferocious chiefsof the insurgents. I have some verses written by him on his lastbirthday: they breathe a spirit of affection towards his wife, and adesire of dying in battle, which seems like an anticipation of hisapproaching fate. '

 I remain, sir, your obedient servant, LINDSAY. 

DUNECHT, Sept. 3. 

DR. FORBES WINSLOW'S LETTER TO THE LONDON 'TIMES. '

TO THE EDITOR. 

SIR, --Your paper of the 4th of September, containing an able and deeplyinteresting 'Vindication of Lord Byron, ' has followed me to this place. With the general details of the 'True Story' (as it is termed) of LadyByron's separation from her husband, as recorded in 'Macmillan'sMagazine, ' I have no desire or intention to grapple. It is only with thehypothesis of insanity, as suggested by the clever writer of the'Vindication' to account for Lady Byron's sad revelations to Mrs. BeecherStowe, with which I propose to deal. I do not believe that the mootedtheory of mental aberration can, in this case, be for a momentmaintained. If Lady Byron's statement of facts to Mrs. B. Stowe is to beviewed as the creation of a distempered fancy, a delusion orhallucination of an insane mind, what part of the narrative are we todraw the boundary-line between fact and delusion, sanity and insanity?Where are we to fix the point d'appui of the lunacy? Again: is thealleged 'hallucination' to be considered as strictly confined to the ideathat Lord Byron had committed the frightful sin of incest? or is thewhole of the 'True Story' of her married life, as reproduced with suchterrible minuteness by Mrs. Beecher Stowe, to be viewed as the delusionof a disordered fancy? If Lady Byron was the subject of an'hallucination' with regard to her husband, I think it not unreasonableto conclude that the mental alienation existed on the day of hermarriage. If this proposition be accepted, the natural inference willbe, that the details of the conversation which Lady Byron represents tohave occurred between herself and Lord Byron as soon as they entered thecarriage never took place. Lord Byron is said to have remarked to LadyByron, 'You might have prevented this (or words to this effect): you willnow find that you have married a devil. Is this alleged conversation tobe viewed as fact, or fiction? evidence of sanity, or insanity? Is therevelation which Lord Byron is said to have made to his wife of his'incestuous passion' another delusion, having no foundation except in hiswife's disordered imagination? Are his alleged attempts to justify toLady Byron's mind the morale of the plea of 'Continental latitude--thegood-humoured marriage, in which complaisant couples mutually agree toform the cloak for each other's infidelities, '--another morbid perversionof her imagination? Did this conversation ever take place? It will bedifficult to separate one part of the 'True Story' from another, andmaintain that this portion indicates insanity, and that portionrepresents sanity. If we accept the hypothesis of hallucination, we arebound to view the whole of Lady Byron's conversations with Mrs. B. Stowe, and the written statement laid before her, as the wild and incoherentrepresentations of a lunatic. On the day when Lady Byron parted from herhusband, did she enter his private room, and find him with the 'object ofhis guilty passion?' and did he say, as they parted, 'When shall we threemeet again?' Is this to be considered as an actual occurrence, or asanother form of hallucination? It is quite inconsistent with the theoryof Lady Byron's insanity to imagine that her delusion was restricted tothe idea of his having committed 'incest. ' In common fairness, we arebound to view the aggregate mental phenomena which she exhibited from theday of the marriage to their final separation and her death. No personpractically acquainted with the true characteristics of insanity wouldaffirm, that, had this idea of 'incest' been an insane hallucination, Lady Byron could, from the lengthened period which intervened between herunhappy marriage and death, have refrained from exhibiting her mentalalienation, 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 cunninglyconceal their delusions; but they have not the capacity to struggle forthirty-six years with a frightful hallucination, similar to the one LadyByron is alleged to have had, without the insane state of mind becomingobvious to those with whom they are daily associating. Neither is itconsistent with experience to suppose that, if Lady Byron had been amonomaniac, her state of disordered understanding would have beenrestricted to one hallucination. Her diseased brain, affecting thenormal action of thought, would, in all probability, have manifestedother symptoms besides those referred to of aberration of intellect. 

During the last thirty years, I have not met with a case of insanity(assuming the hypothesis of hallucination) at all parallel with that ofLady Byron's. In my experience, it is unique. I never saw a patientwith such a delusion. If it should be established, by the statements ofthose who are the depositors of the secret (and they are now bound, invindication of Lord Byron's memory, to deny, if they have the power ofdoing so, this most frightful accusation), that the idea of incest didunhappily cross Lady Byron's mind prior to her finally leaving him, it nodoubt arose from a most inaccurate knowledge of facts and perfectlyunjustifiable data, and was not, in the right psychological acceptationof the phrase, an insane hallucination. 

 Sir, I remain your obedient servant, FORBES WINSLOW, M. D. 

ZARINGERHOF, FREIBURG-EN-BREISGAU, Sept. 8, 1869. 

 -----

EXTRACT FROM LORD BYRON'S EXPUNGED LETTER. 

TO MR. MURRAY. 

 'BOLOGNA, June 7, 1819. 

. . . '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, butaddress yours to Venice as usual. I know nothing of my own movements. Imay return there in a few days, or not for some time; all this depends oncircumstances. I left Mr. Hoppner very well. My daughter Allegra iswell too, and is growing pretty: her hair is growing darker, and her eyesare blue. Her temper and her ways, Mr. Hoppner says, are like mine, aswell as her features: she will make, in that case, a manageable younglady. 

'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 tosee 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 tothem; when he was bringing desolation on my hearth, and destruction on myhousehold gods, --did he think that, in less than three years, a naturalevent, a severe domestic, but an expected and common calamity, would layhis 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 feelingsmust have been when wife and child and sister, and name and fame andcountry, were to be my sacrifice on his legal altar?--and this at amoment when my health was declining, my fortune embarrassed, and my mindhad been shaken by many kinds of disappointment? while I was yet young, and might have reformed what might be wrong in my conduct, and retrievedwhat was perplexing in my affairs? But he is in his grave, and--What along letter I have scribbled!' . . . 

* * * * *

In order that the reader may measure the change of moral tone with regardto Lord Byron, wrought by the constant efforts of himself and his party, we give the two following extracts from 'Blackwood:'

The first is 'Blackwood' in 1819, just after the publication of 'DonJuan:' the second is 'Blackwood' in 1825. 

'In the composition of this work, there is, unquestionably, a morethorough 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 lessinextricably mingled with the beauty and the grace and the strength of amost 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 Englishpoetry: the author has devoted his powers to the worst of purposes andpassions; and it increases his guilt and our sorrow that he has devotedthem entire. 

'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 iftheir sole resting-place were, or ought to be, in the bosoms of fools. Itappears, in short, as if this miserable man, having exhausted everyspecies of sensual gratification, having drained the cup of sin even toits bitterest dregs, were resolved to show us that he is no longer ahuman being, even in his frailties, but a cool, unconcerned fiend, laughing with a detestable glee over the whole of the better and worseelements of which human life is composed; treating well-nigh with equalderision the most pure of virtues, and the most odious of vices; deadalike to the beauty of the one, and the deformity of the other; a mereheartless despiser of that frail but noble humanity, whose type was neverexhibited in a shape of more deplorable degradation than in his owncontemptuously distinct delineation of himself. To confess to his Maker, and weep over in secret agonies the wildest and most fantastictransgressions of heart and mind, is the part of a conscious sinner, inwhom sin has not become the sole principle of life and action; but to laybare to the eye of man and of woman all the hidden convulsions of awicked spirit, and to do all this without one symptom of contrition, remorse, or hesitation, with a calm, careless ferociousness of contentedand satisfied depravity, --this was an insult which no man of genius hadever before dared to put upon his Creator or his species. Impiouslyrailing against his God, madly and meanly disloyal to his sovereign andhis country, and brutally outraging all the best feelings of femalehonour, affection, and confidence, how small a part of chivalry is thatwhich remains to the descendant of the Byrons!--a gloomy visor and adeadly weapon!

'Those who are acquainted (and who is not?) with the main incidents inthe private life of Lord Byron, and who have not seen this production, will scarcely believe that malignity should have carried him so far as tomake him commence a filthy and impious poem with an elaborate satire onthe character and manners of his wife, from whom, even by his ownconfession, he has been separated only in consequence of his own crueland heartless misconduct. It is in vain for Lord Byron to attempt in anyway to justify his own behaviour in that affair; and, now that he has soopenly and audaciously invited inquiry and reproach, we do not see anygood reason why he should not be plainly told so by the general voice ofhis countrymen. It would not be an easy matter to persuade any man whohas any knowledge of the nature of woman, that a female such as LordByron has himself described his wife to be would rashly or hastily orlightly separate herself from the love with which she had once beeninspired for such a man as he is or was. Had he not heaped insult uponinsult, and scorn upon scorn, had he not forced the iron of his contemptinto her very soul, there is no woman of delicacy and virtue, as headmitted Lady Byron to be, who would not have hoped all things, andsuffered all things, from one, her love of whom must have been inwovenwith so many exalting elements of delicious pride, and more delicioushumility. To offend the love of such a woman was wrong, but it might beforgiven; to desert her was unmanly, but he might have returned, andwiped for ever from her eyes the tears of her desertion: but to injureand to desert, and then to turn back and wound her widowed privacy withunhallowed strains of cold-blooded mockery, was brutally, fiendishly, inexpiably mean. For impurities there might be some possibility ofpardon, were they supposed to spring only from the reckless buoyancy ofyoung blood and fiery passions; for impiety there might at least be pity, were it visible that the misery of the impious soul equalled itsdarkness: but for offences such as this, which cannot proceed either fromthe madness of sudden impulse or the bewildered agonies of doubt, butwhich speak the wilful and determined spite of an unrepenting, unsoftened, smiling, sarcastic, joyous sinner, there can be neither pitynor pardon. Our knowledge that it is committed by one of the mostpowerful intellects our island ever has produced lends intensity athousand-fold to the bitterness of our indignation. Every high thoughtthat was ever kindled in our breasts by the Muse of Byron, every pure andlofty feeling that ever responded from within us to the sweep of hismajestic inspirations, every remembered moment of admiration andenthusiasm, is up in arms against him. We look back with a mixture ofwrath and scorn to the delight with which we suffered ourselves to befilled 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; lesscruel only, because less peculiar, than that with which he has now turnedhim from the lurking-place of his selfish and polluted exile to pour thepitiful chalice of his contumely on the surrendered devotion of a virginbosom, and the holy hopes of the mother of his child. It is indeed a sadand a humiliating thing to know, that in the same year, there proceededfrom the same pen two productions in all things so different as thefourth canto of "Childe Harold" and his loathsome "Don Juan. "

'We have mentioned one, and, all will admit, the worst instance of theprivate malignity which has been embodied in so many passages of "DonJuan;" and we are quite sure the lofty-minded and virtuous men whom LordByron has debased himself by insulting will close the volume whichcontains their own injuries, with no feelings save those of pity for himthat has inflicted them, and for her who partakes so largely in the sameinjuries. '--August, 1819. 

* * * * *

'BLACKWOOD, '--iterum. 

'We shall, like all others who say anything about Lord Byron, begin, sansapologie, with his personal character. This is the great object ofattack, the constant theme of open vituperation to one set, and theestablished mark for all the petty but deadly artillery of sneers, shrugs, groans, to another. Two widely different matters, however, aregenerally, we might say universally, mixed up here, --the personalcharacter of the man, as proved by his course of life; and his personalcharacter, as revealed in or guessed from his books. Nothing can be moreunfair than the style in which this mixture is made use of. Is there anoble sentiment, a lofty thought, a sublime conception, in the book? "Ah, yes!" is the answer. "But what of that? It is only the roue Byron thatspeaks!" 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 ofcaprice, or perhaps a bit of vile hypocrisy. " Salvation is thus shut outat either entrance: the poet damns the man, and the man the poet. 

'Nobody will suspect us of being so absurd as to suppose that it ispossible for people to draw no inferences as to the character of anauthor from his book, or to shut entirely out of view, in judging of abook, that which they may happen to know about the man who writes it. Thecant 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 carriedin the case of this particular individual, as compared with others; theimpudence with which things are at once assumed to be facts in regard tohis private history; and the absolute unfairness of never arguing fromhis writings to him, but for evil. 

'Take the man, in the first place, as unconnected, in so far as we canthus consider him, with his works; and ask, What, after all, are the badthings we know of him? Was he dishonest or dishonourable? had he everdone anything to forfeit, or even endanger, his rank as a gentleman? Mostassuredly, no such accusations have ever been maintained against LordByron the private nobleman, although something of the sort may have beeninsinuated against the author. "But he was such a profligate in hismorals, that his name cannot be mentioned with anything like tolerance. "Was he so, indeed? We should like extremely to have the catechising ofthe individual man who says so. That he indulged in sensual vices, tosome extent, is certain, and to be regretted and condemned. But was heworse, as to such matters, than the enormous majority of those who joinin the cry of horror upon this occasion? We most assuredly believeexactly the reverse; and we rest our belief upon very plain andintelligible grounds. First, we hold it impossible that the majority ofmankind, or that anything beyond a very small minority, are or can beentitled to talk of sensual profligacy as having formed a part of thelife and character of the man, who, dying at six and thirty, bequeathed acollection of works such as Byron's to the world. Secondly, we hold itimpossible, that laying the extent of his intellectual labours out of thequestion, and looking only to the nature of the intellect whichgenerated, and delighted in generating, such beautiful and nobleconceptions as are to be found in almost all Lord Byron's works, --we holdit impossible that very many men can be at once capable of comprehendingthese conceptions, and entitled to consider sensual profligacy as havingformed the principal, or even a principal, trait in Lord Byron'scharacter. Thirdly, and lastly, we have never been able to hear any onefact established which could prove Lord Byron to deserve anything likethe degree or even kind of odium which has, in regard to matters of thisclass, been heaped upon his name. We have no story of base unmanlyseduction, 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 insociety an unprincipled sensualist, there must have been many suchstories, authentic and authenticated. But there are nonesuch, --absolutely none. His name has been coupled with the names ofthree, four, or more women of some rank: but what kind of women? Everyone of them, in the first place, about as old as himself in years, andtherefore a great deal older in character; every one of them utterlybattered in reputation long before he came into contact withthem, --licentious, unprincipled, characterless women. What father hasever reproached him with the ruin of his daughter? What husband hasdenounced him as the destroyer of his peace?

'Let us not be mistaken. We are not defending the offences of which LordByron unquestionably was guilty; neither are we finding fault with those, who, after looking honestly within and around themselves, condemn thoseoffences, no matter how severely: but we are speaking of society ingeneral as it now exists; and we say that there is vile hypocrisy in thetone in which Lord Byron is talked of there. We say, that, although alloffences against purity of life are miserable things, and condemnablethings, the degrees of guilt attached to different offences of this classare as widely different as are the degrees of guilt between an assaultand a murder; and we confess our belief, that no man of Byron's stationor 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) toLord Byron's been the only thing chargeable against him. 

'The last poem he wrote was produced upon his birthday, not many weeksbefore he died. We consider it as one of the finest and most touchingeffusions of his noble genius. We think he who reads it, and can everafter bring himself to regard even the worst transgressions that havebeen charged against Lord Byron with any feelings but those of humblesorrow and manly pity, is not deserving of the name of man. The deep andpassionate struggles with the inferior elements of his nature (and ours)which it records; the lofty thirsting after purity; the heroic devotionof a soul half weary of life, because unable to believe in its own powersto live up to what it so intensely felt to be, and so reverentiallyhonoured as, the right; the whole picture of this mighty spirit, oftendarkened, but never sunk, --often erring, but never ceasing to see and toworship the beauty of virtue; the repentance of it; the anguish; theaspiration, almost stifled in despair, --the whole of this is such awhole, 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 ofall possible answers whenever the name of Byron is insulted by those whopermit themselves to forget nothing, either in his life or in hiswritings, but the good. '--[1825. ]

LETTERS OF LADY BYRON TO H. C. ROBINSON

The following letters of Lady Byron's are reprinted from the Memoirs ofH. C. Robinson. They are given that the reader may form some judgment ofthe strength and activity of her mind, and the elevated class of subjectsupon which it habitually dwelt. 

LADY BYRON TO H. C. R. 

 'DEC. 31, 1853. 

'DEAR MR. CRABB ROBINSON, --I have an inclination, if I were not afraid oftrespassing on your time (but you can put my letter by for any leisuremoment), to enter upon the history of a character which I think lessappreciated than it ought to be. Men, I observe, do not understand menin certain points, without a woman's interpretation. Those points, ofcourse, relate to feelings. 

'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 tothose impressions. 

'My acquaintance was made, oddly enough, with him twenty-seven years ago. A pauper said to me of him, "He's the poor man's doctor. " Such arecommendation seemed to me a good one: and I also knew that hisorganizing head had formed the first district society in England (forMrs. Fry told me she could not have effected it without his aid); yet hehas always ignored his own share of it. I felt in him at once thecurious combination of the Christian and the cynic, --of reverence forman, and contempt of men. It was then an internal war, but one in whichit was evident to me that the holier cause would be victorious, becausethere was deep belief, and, as far as I could learn, a blameless andbenevolent life. He appeared only to want sunshine. It was a plantwhich could not be brought to perfection in darkness. He had begun lifeby the most painful conflict between filial duty and conscience, --a largeprovision in the church secured for him by his father; but he could notsign. There was discredit, as you know, attached to such scruples. 

'He was also, when I first knew him, under other circumstances of anature to depress him, and to make him feel that he was unjustly treated. The gradual removal of these called forth his better nature inthankfulness to God. Still the old misanthropic modes of expressinghimself obtruded themselves at times. This passed in '48 between him andRobertson. Robertson said to me, "I want to know something about raggedschools. " I replied, "You had better ask Dr. King: he knows more aboutthem. "--"I?" said Dr. King. "I take care to know nothing of raggedschools, lest they should make me ragged. " Robertson did not see throughit. Perhaps I had been taught to understand such suicidal speeches by mycousin, Lord Melbourne. 

'The example of Christ, imperfectly as it may be understood by him, hasbeen ever before his eyes: he woke to the thought of following it, and hewent to rest consoled or rebuked by it. After nearly thirty years ofintimacy, I may, without presumption, form that opinion. There issomething pathetic to me in seeing any one so unknown. Even the othermedical friends of Robertson, when I knew that Dr. King felt a woman'stenderness, said on one occasion to him, "But we know that you, Dr. King, are above all feeling. "

'If I have made the character more consistent to you by putting in thesebits of mosaic, my pen will not have been ill employed, nor unpleasinglyto you. 

 'Yours truly, 'A. NOEL BYRON. '

* * * * *

LADY BYRON TO H. C. R. 

 'BRIGHTON, NOV. 15, 1854. 

'The thoughts of all this public and private suffering have taken thelife out of my pen when I tried to write on matters which would otherwisehave been most interesting to me: these seemed the shadows, that thestern reality. It is good, however, to be drawn out of scenes in whichone is absorbed most unprofitably, and to have one's natural interestsrevived by such a letter as I have to thank you for, as well as itspredecessor. You touch upon the very points which do interest me themost, habitually. The change of form, and enlargement of design, in "TheProspective" had led me to express to one of the promoters of that objectmy desire to contribute. The religious crisis is instant; but the manfor it? The next best thing, if, as I believe, he is not to be found inEngland, is an association of such men as are to edit the new periodical. An address delivered by Freeman Clarke at Boston, last May, makes methink 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 notneed, it, and others do. His object is the same as that of the "AllianceUniverselle:" 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 ofreligion itself under three successive aspects, historically, --1. Thesis;2. Antithesis; 3. Synthesis. I made his acquaintance in England; and heinspired confidence at once by his brave independence (incomptiscapillis) and self-unconsciousness. J. J. Tayler's address of last monthfollows in the same path, --all in favour of the "irenics, " instead ofpolemics. 

'The answer which you gave me so fully and distinctly to the questions Iproposed for your consideration was of value in turning to my viewcertain aspects of the case which I had not before observed. I had beguna second attack on your patience, when all was forgotten in the news ofthe day. '

* * * * *

LADY BYRON TO H. C. R. 

 'BRIGHTON, Dec. 25, 1854. 

'With J. J. Tayler, though almost a stranger to him, I have a peculiarreason for sympathising. A book of his was a treasure to my daughter onher death-bed. {320a}

'I must confess to intolerance of opinion as to these two points, --eternalevil in any form, and (involved in it) eternal suffering. To believe inthese would take away my God, who is all-loving. With a God with whomomnipotence and omniscience were all, evil might be eternal; but why do Isay to you what has been better said elsewhere?'

* * * * *

LADY BYRON TO H. C. R. 

 'BRIGHTON, Jan. 31, 1855. 

. . . 'The great difficulty in respect to "The Review" {320b} seems tobe to settle a basis, inclusive and exclusive; in short, a boundaryquestion. From what you said, I think you agreed with me, that alatitudinarian Christianity ought to be the character of the periodical;but the depth of the roots should correspond with the width of thebranches of that tree of knowledge. Of some of those minds one mightsay, "They have no root;" and then, the richer the foliage, the moredanger that the trunk will fall. "Grounded in Christ" has to me a mostpractical significance and value. I, too, have anxiety about a friend(Miss Carpenter) whose life is of public importance: she, more than anyof the English reformers, unless Nash and Wright, has found the art ofdrawing out the good of human nature, and proving its existence. Shemakes 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 justbeen secured at a county meeting . . . . Now the desideratum is well-qualified masters and mistresses. If you hear of such by chance, praylet me know. The regular schoolmaster is an extinguisher. Heart, andfamiliarity with the class to be educated, are all important. At homeand abroad, the evidence is conclusive on that point; for I have for manyyears attended to such experiments in various parts of Europe. "TheIrish Quarterly" has taken up the subject with rather more zeal thanjudgment. I had hoped that a sound and temperate exposition of the factsmight form an article in the "Might-have-been Review. "'

* * * * *

LADY BYRON TO H. C. R. 

 'BRIGHTON, Feb. 12, 1855. 

'I have at last earned the pleasure of writing to you by having settledtroublesome matters of little moment, except locally; and I gladly take awider range by sympathizing in your interests. There is, besides, noresponsibility--for me at least--in canvassing the merits of Russell orPalmerston, but much in deciding whether the "village politician" Jacksonor Thompson shall be leader in the school or public-house. 

'Has not the nation been brought to a conviction that the system shouldbe broken up? and is Lord Palmerston, who has used it so long and socleverly, likely to promote that object?

'But, whatever obstacles there may be in state affairs, that generalpersuasion must modify other departments of action and knowledge. "Unroasted coffee" will no longer be accepted under the officialseal, --another reason for a new literary combination for distinct specialobjects, a review in which every separate article should be convergent. If, instead of the problem to make a circle pass through three givenpoints, it were required to find the centre from which to describe acircle through any three articles in the "Edinburgh" or "WestminsterReview, " who would accomplish it? Much force is lost for want of thisone-mindedness amongst the contributors. It would not exclude variety orfreedom in the unlimited discussion of means towards the endsunequivocally recognized. If St. Paul had edited a review, he might

have admitted Peter as well as Luke or Barnabas . . . . 

'Ross gave us an excellent sermon, yesterday, on "Hallowing the Name. "Though far from commonplace, it might have been delivered in any church. 

'We have had Fanny Kemble here last week. I only heard her "Romeo andJuliet, "--not less instructive, as her readings always are, thanexciting; for in her glass Shakspeare is a philosopher. I know her, andhonour her, for her truthfulness amidst all trials. '

* * * * *

LADY BYRON TO H. C. R. 

 'BRIGHTON, March 5, 1855. 

'I recollect only those passages of Dr. Kennedy's book which bear uponthe opinions of Lord Byron. Strange as it may seem, Dr. Kennedy is mostfaithful where you doubt his being so. Not merely from casualexpressions, but from the whole tenor of Lord Byron's feelings, I couldnot but conclude he was a believer in the inspiration of the Bible, andhad the gloomiest Calvinistic tenets. To that unhappy view of therelation of the creature to the Creator, I have always ascribed themisery of his life . . . . It is enough for me to remember, that he whothinks his transgressions beyond forgiveness (and such was his owndeepest feeling) has righteousness beyond that of the self-satisfiedsinner, or, perhaps, of the half-awakened. It was impossible for me todoubt, that, could he have been at once assured of pardon, his livingfaith in a moral duty, and love of virtue ("I love the virtues which Icannot claim"), would have conquered every temptation. Judge, then, howI 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 ideefixe with which he connected his physical peculiarity as a stamp. Insteadof being made happier by any apparent good, he felt convinced that everyblessing would be "turned into a curse" to him. Who, possessed by suchideas, 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 do believe, " hesaid. I, like all connected with him, was broken against the rock ofpredestination. I may be pardoned for referring to his frequentexpression of the sentiment that I was only sent to show him thehappiness he was forbidden to enjoy. You will now better understand why"The Deformed Transformed" is too painful to me for discussion. Sincewriting the above, I have read Dr. Granville's letter on the Emperor ofRussia, some passages of which seem applicable to the prepossession Ihave described. I will not mix up less serious matters with these, whichforty years have not made less than present still to me. '

* * * * *

LADY BYRON TO H. C. R. 

 'BRIGHTON, April 8, 1855. 

. . . . 'The book which has interested me most, lately, is that on"Mosaism, " translated by Miss Goldsmid, and which I read, as you willbelieve, without any Christian (unchristian?) prejudice. Themissionaries of the Unity were always, from my childhood, regarded by meas in that sense the people; and I believe they were true to thatmission, though blind, intellectually, in demanding the crucifixion. Thepresent aspect of Jewish opinions, as shown in that book, is all butChristian. The author is under the error of taking, as therepresentatives of Christianity, the Mystics, Ascetics, and Quietists;and therefore he does not know how near he is to the true spirit of thegospel. If you should happen to see Miss Goldsmid, pray tell her what agreat service I think she has rendered to us soi-disant Christians intranslating a book which must make us sensible of the little we havedone, and the much we have to do, to justify our preference of the laterto the earlier dispensation. ' . . . 

* * * * *

LADY BYRON TO H. C. R. 

 BRIGHTON, April 11, 1855. 

'You appear to have more definite information respecting "The Review"than I have obtained . . . It was also said that "The Review" would, infact, be "The Prospective" amplified, --not satisfactory to me, because Ihave always thought that periodical too Unitarian, in the sense ofseparating itself from other Christian churches, if not by a high wall, at least by a wire-gauze fence. Now, separation is to me the [Greektext]. The revelation through Nature never separates: it is therevelation through the Book which separates. Whewell and Brewster wouldhave been one, had they not, I think, equally dimmed their lamps ofscience when reading their Bibles. As long as we think a truth betterfor being shut up in a text, we are not of the wide-world religion, whichis to include all in one fold: for that text will not be accepted by thefollowers of other books, or students of the same; and separation willensue. The Christian Scripture should be dear to us, not as the charterof a few, but of mankind; and to fashion it into cages is to deny itsultimate objects. These thoughts hot, like the roll at breakfast, whereyour letter was so welcome an addition. '

THREE DOMESTIC POEMS BY LORD BYRON. 

FARE THEE WELL. 

 Fare thee well! and if for ever, Still for ever fare thee well! Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. 

 Would that breast were bared before thee Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thee Which thou ne'er canst know again!

 Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought could show! Then thou wouldst at last discover 'Twas not well to spurn it so. 

 Though the world for this commend thee, Though it smile upon the blow, Even its praises must offend thee, Founded on another's woe. 

 Though my many faults defaced me, Could no other arm be found, Than the one which once embraced me, To inflict a cureless wound?

 Yet, oh! yet, thyself deceive not: Love may sink by slow decay; But, by sudden wrench, believe not Hearts can thus be torn away:

 Still thine own its life retaineth; Still must mine, though bleeding, beat And the undying thought which paineth Is--that we no more may meet. 

 These are words of deeper sorrow Than the wail above the dead: Both shall live, but every morrow Wake us from a widowed bed. 

 And when thou wouldst solace gather, When our child's first accents flow, Wilt thou teach her to say 'Father, ' Though his care she must forego?

 When her little hand shall press thee, When her lip to thine is pressed, Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee; Think of him thy love had blessed. 

 Should her lineaments resemble Those thou never more mayst see, Then thy heart will softly tremble With a pulse yet true to me. 

 All my faults, perchance, thou knowest; All my madness none can know: All my hopes, where'er thou goest, Wither; yet with thee they go. 

 Every feeling hath been shaken: Pride, which not a world could bow, Bows to thee, by thee forsaken; Even my soul forsakes me now. 

 But 'tis done: all words are idle; Words from me are vainer still; But the thoughts we cannot bridle Force their way without the will. 

 Fare thee well!--thus disunited, Torn from every nearer tie, Seared in heart, and lone and blighted, More than this I scarce can die. 

A SKETCH. 

 Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred; Promoted thence to deck her mistress' head; Next--for some gracious service unexpress'd, And from its wages only to be guessed-- Raised from the toilette to the table, where Her wondering betters wait behind her chair, With eye unmoved, and forehead unabashed, She dines from off the plate she lately washed. Quick with the tale, and ready with the lie, The genial confidante and general spy, Who could, ye gods! her next employment guess?-- An only infant's earliest governess! She taught the child to read, and taught so well, That she herself, by teaching, learned to spell. An adept next in penmanship she grows, As many a nameless slander deftly shows: What she had made the pupil of her art, None know; but that high soul secured the heart, And panted for the truth it could not hear, With longing breast and undeluded ear. Foiled was perversion by that youthful mind, Which flattery fooled not, baseness could not blind, Deceit infect not, near contagion soil, Indulgence weaken, nor example spoil, Nor mastered science tempt her to look down On humbler talents with a pitying frown, Nor genius swell, nor beauty render vain, Nor envy ruffle to retaliate pain, Nor fortune change, pride raise, nor passion bow, Nor virtue teach austerity, till now. Serenely purest of her sex that live; But wanting one sweet weakness, --to forgive; Too shocked at faults her soul can never know, She deems that all could be like her below: Foe to all vice, yet hardly Virtue's friend; For Virtue pardons those she would amend. 

 But to the theme, now laid aside too long, -- The baleful burthen of this honest song. Though all her former functions are no more, She rules the circle which she served before. If mothers--none know why--before her quake; If daughters dread her for the mothers' sake; If early habits--those false links, which bind At times the loftiest to the meanest mind-- Have given her power too deeply to instil The angry essence of her deadly will; If like a snake she steal within your walls Till the black slime betray her as she crawls; If like a viper to the heart she wind, And leave the venom there she did not find, What marvel that this hag of hatred works Eternal evil latent as she lurks, To make a Pandemonium where she dwells, And reign the Hecate of domestic hells? Skilled by a touch to deepen scandal's tints With all the kind mendacity of hints, While mingling truth with falsehood, sneers with smiles, A thread of candour with a web of wiles; A plain blunt show of briefly-spoken seeming, To hide her bloodless heart's soul-hardened scheming; A lip of lies; a face formed to conceal, And, without feeling, mock at all who feel; With a vile mask the Gorgon would disown; A cheek of parchment, and an eye of stone. Mark how the channels of her yellow blood Ooze to her skin, and stagnate there to mud! Cased like the centipede in saffron mail, Or darker greenness of the scorpion's scale, (For drawn from reptiles only may we trace Congenial colours in that soul or face, )-- Look on her features! and behold her mind As in a mirror of itself defined. Look on the picture! deem it not o'ercharged; There is no trait which might not be enlarged: Yet true to 'Nature's journeymen, ' who made This monster when their mistress left off trade, This female dog-star of her little sky, Where all beneath her influence droop or die. 

 O wretch without a tear, without a thought, Save joy above the ruin thou hast wrought! The time shall come, nor long remote, when thou Shalt feel far more than thou inflictest now, -- Feel for thy vile self-loving self in vain, And turn thee howling in unpitied pain. May the strong curse of crushed affections light Back on thy bosom with reflected blight, And make thee, in thy leprosy of mind, As loathsome to thyself as to mankind, Till all thy self-thoughts curdle into hate Black as thy will for others would create: Till thy hard heart be calcined into dust, And thy soul welter in its hideous crust! Oh, may thy grave be sleepless as the bed, The widowed couch of fire, that thou hast spread! Then, when thou fain wouldst weary Heaven with prayer, Look on thine earthly victims, and despair! Down to the dust! and, as thou rott'st away, Even worms shall perish on thy poisonous clay. But for the love I bore, and still must bear, To her thy malice from all ties would tear, Thy name, thy human name, to every eye The climax of all scorn, should hang on high, Exalted o'er thy less abhorred compeers, And festering in the infamy of years. 

LINES ON HEARING THAT LADY BYRON WAS ILL. 

 And thou wert sad, yet I was not with thee! And thou wert sick, and yet I was not near! Methought that joy and health alone could be Where I was not, and pain and sorrow here. And is it thus? It is as I foretold, And shall be more so; for the mind recoils Upon itself, and the wrecked heart lies cold, While heaviness collects the shattered spoils. It is not in the storm nor in the strife We feel benumbed, and wish to be no more, But in the after-silence on the shore, When all is lost except a little life. I am too well avenged! But 'twas my right: Whate'er my sins might be, thou wert not sent To be the Nemesis who should requite; Nor did Heaven choose so near an instrument. Mercy is for the merciful!--if thou Hast been of such, 'twill be accorded now. Thy nights are banished from the realms of sleep! Yes! they may flatter thee; but thou shalt feel A hollow agony which will not heal; For thou art pillowed on a curse too deep: Thou hast sown in my sorrow, and must reap The bitter harvest in a woe as real! I have had many foes, but none like thee; For 'gainst the rest myself I could defend, And be avenged, or turn them into friend; But thou in safe implacability Hadst nought to dread, in thy own weakness shielded; And in my love, which hath but too much yielded, And spared, for thy sake, some I should not spare. And thus upon the world, --trust in thy truth, And the wild fame of my ungoverned youth, On things that were not and on things that are, -- Even upon such a basis hast thou built A monument, whose cement hath been guilt; The moral Clytemnestra of thy lord, And hewed down, with an unsuspected sword, Fame, peace, and hope, and all the better life, Which, but for this cold treason of thy heart, Might still have risen from out the grave of strife, And found a nobler duty than to part. But of thy virtues didst thou make a vice, Trafficking with them in a purpose cold, For present anger and for future gold, And buying others' grief at any price. And thus, once entered into crooked ways, The early truth, which was thy proper praise, Did not still walk beside thee, but at times, And with a breast unknowing its own crimes, Deceit, averments incompatible, Equivocations, and the thoughts which dwell In Janus-spirits; the significant eye Which learns to lie with silence; the pretext Of prudence, with advantages annexed; The acquiescence in all things which tend, No matter how, to the desired end, -- All found a place in thy philosophy. The means were worthy, and the end is won: I would not do by thee as thou hast done!

FOOTNOTES. 

{7} The italics are mine. 

{14} The italics are mine. 

{16} In Lady Blessington's 'Memoirs' this name is given Charlemont; inthe late 'Temple Bar' article on the character of Lady Byron it is givenClermont. I have followed the latter. 

{17} The italics are mine. 

{21} In Lady Blessington's conversations with Lord Byron, just before hewent to Greece, she records that he gave her this poem in manuscript. Itwas published in her 'Journal. '

{22a} Vol. Vi. P. 22. 

{22b} 'Byron's Miscellany, ' vol. Ii. P. 358. London, 1853. 

{23} The italics are mine. 

{24} Lord Byron says, in his observations on an article in 'Blackwood:''I recollect being much hurt by Romilly's conduct: he (having a generalretainer for me) went over to the adversary, alleging, on being remindedof his retainer, that he had forgotten it, as his clerk had so many. Iobserved that some of those who were now so eagerly laying the axe to myroof-tree might see their own shaken. His fell and crushed him. '

In the first edition of Moore's Life of Lord Byron there was printed aletter on Sir Samuel Romilly, so brutal that it was suppressed in thesubsequent editions. (See Part III. )

{28a} Vol. Iv. P. 40

{28b} Ibid. P. 46. 

{31} The italics are mine. 

{41} Vol. Iv. P. 143. 

{43} Lord Byron took especial pains to point out to Murray the importanceof these two letters. Vol. V. Letter 443, he says: 'You must also havefrom Mr. Moore the correspondence between me and Lady B. , to whom Ioffered a sight of all that concerns herself in these papers. This isimportant. He has her letter and my answer. '

{44} 'And I, who with them on the cross am placed, . . . . Truly My savage wife, more than aught else, doth harm me. ' Inferno, Canto, XVI. , Longfellow's translation. 

{49} 'Conversations, ' p. 108. 

{51} Murray's edition of 'Byron's Works, ' vol. Ii. P. 189; date ofdedication to Hobhouse, Jan. 2, 1818. 

{61} Recently, Lord Lindsay has published another version of this story, which makes it appear that he has conversed with a lady who conversedwith Hobhouse during his lifetime, in which this story is differentlyreported. In the last version, it is made to appear that Hobhouse gotthis declaration from Lady Byron herself. 

{70a} The references are to the first volume of the first edition ofMoore's 'Life, ' originally published by itself. 

{70b} 'The officious spies of his privacy, ' p. 65O. 

{72} 'The deserted husband, ' p. 651. 

{86} 'I (Campbell) had not time to ask Lady Byron's permission to printthis private letter; but it seemed to me important, and I have publishedit meo periculo. '

{95a} 'Noctes, ' July 1822. 

{95b} 'Noctes, ' September 1832. 

{105} Miss Martineau's Biographical Sketches. 

{113} The italics are mine. --H. B. S. 

{119} In 'The Noctes' of November, 1824 Christopher North says, 'I don'tcall Medwin a liar. . . . Whether Byron bammed him, or he, by virtue ofhis own stupidity, was the sole and sufficient bammifier of himself, Iknow not. ' A note says that Murray had been much shocked by Byron'smisstatements to Medwin as to money-matters with him. The note goes onto say, 'Medwin could not have invented them, for they were mixed up withacknowledged facts; and the presumption is that Byron mystified hisgallant acquaintance. He was fond of such tricks. '

{121} This one fact is, that Lord Byron might have had an openexamination in court, if he had only persisted in refusing the deed ofseparation. 

{126} In the history of 'Blackwood's Magazine, ' prefaced to the Americanedition of 1854, Mackenzie says of the 'Noctes' papers, 'Great as wastheir popularity in England it was peculiarly in America that their highmerit and undoubted originality received the heartiest recognition andappreciation. Nor is this wonderful when it is considered that for onereader of "Blackwood's Magazine" in the old country there cannot be lessthan fifty in the new. '

{139} The reader is here referred to Lady Byron's other letters, in PartIII. ; which also show the peculiarly active and philosophical characterof her mind, and the class of subjects on which it habitually dwelt. 

{147} See her character of Dr. King, Part III. 

{148} Alluding to the financial crisis in the United States in 1857. 

{149} 'The Minister's Wooing. '

{150} See her letter on spiritualistic phenomena, Part III. 

{161} This novel of Godwin's is a remarkably powerful story. It isrelated in the first person by the supposed hero, Caleb Williams. Herepresents himself as private secretary to a gentleman of high familynamed Falkland. Caleb accidentally discovers that his patron has, in amoment of passion, committed a murder. Falkland confesses the crime toCaleb, and tells him that henceforth he shall always suspect him, andkeep watch over him. Caleb finds this watchfulness insupportable, andtries to escape, but without success. He writes a touching letter to hispatron, imploring him to let him go, and promising never to betray him. The scene where Falkland refuses this is the most highly wrought in thebook. He says to him, "Do not imagine that I am afraid of you; I wear anarmour against which all your weapons are impotent. I have dug a pit foryou: and whichever way you move, backward or forward, to the right or theleft, it is ready to swallow you. Be still! If once you fall, call asloud as you will, no man on earth shall hear your cries: prepare a talehowever plausible or however true, the whole world shall execrate you foran impostor. Your innocence shall be of no service to you. I laugh atso feeble a defence. It is I that say it: you may believe what I tellyou. Do you know, miserable wretch!" added he, stamping on the groundwith fury, "that I have sworn to preserve my reputation, whatever be theexpense; that I love it more than the whole world and its inhabitantstaken together? and do you think that you shall wound it?" The rest ofthe book shows how this threat was executed. 

{168} Alluding to Buchanan's election. 

{178a} Shelton Mackenzie, in a note to the 'Noctes' of July 1822, givesthe following saying of Maginn, one of the principal lights of the club:'No man, however much he might tend to civilisation, was to be regardedas having absolutely reached its apex until he was drunk. ' He alsorecords it as a further joke of the club, that a man's having reachedthis apex was to be tested by his inability to pronounce the word'civilisation, ' which, he says, after ten o'clock at night ought to beabridged to civilation, 'by syncope, or vigorously speaking by hic-cup. '

{178b} Vol. V. Pp. 61, 75. 

{181} These italics are ours. 

{190a} This little incident shows the characteristic carefulness andaccuracy of Lady Byron's habits. This statement was written fourteenyears after the events spoken of; but Lady Byron carefully quotes apassage from her mother's letter written at that time. This shows that acopy of Lady Milbanke's letter had been preserved, and makes it appearprobable that copies of the whole correspondence of that period were alsokept. Great light could be thrown on the whole transaction, could thesedocuments be consulted. 

{190b} Here, again, Lady Byron's sealed papers might furnish light. Theletters addressed to her at this time by those in constant intercoursewith Lord Byron are doubtless preserved, and would show her ground ofaction. 

{192} Probably Lady Milbanke's letters are among the sealed papers, andwould more fully explain the situation. 

{205a} Hunt's Byron, p. 77. Philadelphia, 1828. 

{205b} From the Temple Bar article, October 1869. 'Mrs. Leigh, LordByron's sister, had other thoughts of Mrs. Clermont, and wrote to heroffering public testimony to her tenderness and forbearance undercircumstances which must have been trying to any friend of LadyByron. '--Campbell, in the New Monthly Magazine, 183O, p. 38O. 

{219} 'My Recollections, ' p. 238. 

{225} Vol. Vi. P. 242. 

{227} The reader is here referred to the remarks of 'Blackwood' on 'DonJuan' in Part III. 

{258} The article in question is worth a careful reading. Its industryand accuracy in amassing evidence are worthy attention. 

{320a} Probably 'The Christian Aspects of Faith and Duty. ' Mr. Taylerhas also written 'A Retrospect of the Religious Life of England. '

{320b} 'The National Review. '