THE DAILY EVENING TELEGRAPH PHILADELPHIA, THURSDAY, AUGUST 10, 18.09.
I.OIU) AM LADY KYKOX.
THE STOKY OF TIIKIU MAKKlAOri AND SRIWUV
TIX1N 1 AI)Y IIYHON'mVEKMONOKTIIK ArPAlK,
AS lit'.I.ATEl) JY Mils. 1IAUKIKT I'.EF.CJII UK
KTtlVYE.
TLe following is the promised nccount, liy
Mrs. Ilnrriet lSeeeher tttowe, of the. real dilli
cnlty between Loril and I.ady Dyron which loil
to their separation. Wo idve nil tho essential
points from tho long narrative, prepared by
Jlrs. Htowo:
The reading world of America lias lately
been presented with ti book, which is said to
sell rapidly, and which appears to meet with
universal favor. Tim subject of tho book
maybe thus briefly stated: Tho mistress of
Lord liyron comes before tin; world for tho
mike of vindicating his fame from slanders
find aspersions cast on Iiim by his wife. Tho
story of tho mistress against wife may bo
Hummed up as follows:
Lord liyron, the hero of tho story, is repre
sented as a human being endowed' with every
natural charm, gift, and grace, who, by the
one false step of an nnsiiitalilu marriage,
wrecked his wholo life. A narrow-minded,
cold-hi ai ted precisian, without snllieient in
tellect to comprehend his genius, or heart to
feel for his temptations, formed with him ono
of those mere wo.ldly marriages, common in
likdi lif'1, und, finding that sho could not
reduce him to the mathematical proprieties
and convent ionnl rules of her own modejof life,
widdi nl.v. and without warning, abandoned
him in the most cruel and inexplicable mau
m i. Il is alleged that she parted from him
in appan nt all'ection and good humor, wrote
him a phrjfi.l. mtidiiig letter upon the way;
but, alter reaching her father's house, sud
denly, and without explanation, announced
to him that she would never seo him again;
that this sudden abandonment drew down
nj on him a perfect storm of scandalous sto
rks, which his wife never contradicted: that
she never, in any way or shape, stated what
the exact reasons for her departure had been,
and thus silently gave scope to all the malice
of thousands ot enemies. Tho sensitive vic
tim was actually driven from England, his
home broken up, and ho doomed to bo a
lonely wanderer on foreign shores.
In Italy, under bluer skies and among
a gentler people, with more tolerant modes of
judgment, the authoress intimates that ho
found peace and consolation. A lovely
young Italian Countess fell in love with him,
and breaking her family ties for his sake,
devotes herself to him. and in blissful retire
ment with her he funis at last that domestic
life for which he was so lilted. Soothed,
calmed, ai d refreshed, l:o wrote 'Ton Juan,"
which the world is at this late hour informed
was a poem v.iih a high moral purpose', de
signed to be a practical illustration of tho
doctrine of total depravity among young
gentlemen in h'gh life. I'nder the elevating
influence of love, ho rises at last to higher
realms of moral oxei Hence, and resolves to
devote the resi of his life to some noble and
heroic puiposff, becomes the savior of Greece,
and dies untimely, leaving a nation to
mourn his loss. The authoress dwells with a
peculiar bitterness on Lady liyron's i't v
during all these tears, as tho mo.it aggravated
form of persecution and injury. Shu informs
the world that Lord I'-yinu wrote his auto
biography with the purpo.su of giving a fair
statement of the exact truth of die matter,
and that LadyJiyron bought up the manu
script of the publisher and iiiiisted on its
being destroyed niiiv.td, thus i:i!iexibly de
liriving her husband of his la 1 chance before
the tribunal of the public. As a result of this
silent, persistent cruelty on the part of a cold,
correct, narrow-minded woman, tho character
;f Lord IJyron has been ini-wi, ler.stood, and
his name transmitted to after ages with asper
sions and accusations which it is the object
of this book to remove.
It does not appear to occur to the thou
sands of unrellecling readers that they are lis
tening merely to the story of Lord liyron's
mistress and of Lord ISyroii, and th.it even by
their own showing their heaviest accusation
against Lady liyron is that in In. not .yw.-, ,
at nil; her siory has never been told.
Lady liyron's obdurate cold-heartcdnoss in
refusing even to listen to his pravers or to
have any intercourse with him which might '
lead to reconciliation, was the one point eon- j
ceded on all sides. Tile stricter moralist de- 1
fended her, but gentler hearts throughout all
tho world regarded her as a marble-headed
monster of correctness and morality, a per- '.
nullification of the. law unmitigated by the
Gospel. Literature in its highest walks busied !
itself with Lady liyron.
The true history of Lord and Lady liyron i
lias long been perfectly understood in many !
circles in England, but the facts were of a j
nature that could not be made public. While i
there was a young daughter living, whose
future might be prejudiced by its recital, and
while there were other persons on whom tho
disclosure of tho real truth would have been
crushing as an avalanche, Lady liyron's only
course was the perfect sileivi in Which she
took refuge, and those sublime works of
charity and mercy to which she conse
crated her blighted earthly life.
No person in England, we think, would as
yet take the responsibility of r"la!in the
true history which is to clear Lady liyron's
memory, lint by a singular concurrence of
circumstances, all the facts of the case, in the
most undeniable and authentic form, were at
one time placed in the hands of tho writer of
this sketch, with authority to make such use
of them as sho should juiigo best. Had this
melancholy history bei n allowed to sleep, no
public use would have been made of them;
but the appearance of a popular attack on the
character of Lady liyron calls for a vindica
tion, and tho true story of her married life
will, therefore, now be related.
Lord liyron has described in ono of his let
ters the impression left upon his mind by a
young person whom he met ono eveniii" in
society, and who attracted his attention by
the simplicity of her dress and a certain air of
singular purity and calmness with whioh sho
surveyed tho scene around her. On immirv
lie was told that this young person was Miss
Milbanke, an only child and one of tho largest
heiresses in England.
The result of liyron's intimacy with Miss
Milbanke and the enkindling of his nobler
feelings was an otter of marriage, which she,
though at tho time deeply interested in him,
declined with many expressions of friendship
and interest. In fact, she already loved him,
Lnt had that doubt of her power to bo to him
till that h wife should bo which would bo
likely to arise in a mind so sensitively consti
tuted and so unworldly. They, however,
continued a correspondence as friends; on her
part the interest continually increased, on his
the transient rise of better feelings was choked
and overgrown by the thorns of base and un
worthy passions. From tho height at which
lie might have been happy as tho husband of
a noble woman, ho fell into tho depths of a
secret Rdulterous intrigue with a blood rela
tion, so near in consanguinity that discovery
must have been utter ruin and expulsion from
ciYilwcd witty. ivw bcjiccfvrtl tlitf
7nmnir,g guilty secret became the ruling force
in hislile, holding him with a morbid fascina
tion, yet tilling him with remorse and anguish,
and insane dread of detection. Two years after
his refusal by Miss Millbanke, his various
friends, seeing that for some cause he was
wretched, pressed marriage upon him. Mar
riage has often been represented as the proper
goal and terminus of a wild and dissipated
career, and it has been supposed to bo tho
appointed mission of good women to receive
wandering prodigals, with all the rags and
disgraces of their old life upon them, and put
lings on their han is and shoes on their feet,
and introduce them, clothed and in their riglit
minds, to an hoturililo career in society.
Marriage was therefore universally lveom
mended to Lou I liyron by his numerous
friends and we. ' v. ishers; and so ho deter
mined to marry, pi; 1 in an hour of reckless
desperation, sat do n and wrote proposals to
two ladies. One was declined. The other,
which was accepted, was to Miss Millbanke.
The world knows wed that ho had the gift of
expression, and wi'inot be surprised that ho
wrote a very beautiful letter, and that tho
woman 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, giving' herself to him
heart and hand. Tho good in Lord liyron
was not so utterly obliterated that ho could
receive such a l'.''r without emotion, or
practice such i:r.f i.irness on a loving, trust
ing heart within, t p;;ngs of remorse, lb' had
sent the letter in iiere recklessness: he had
Hot seriously i ; , i ted to be accepted, and
the discovery ol the treasure of all'ection
which he had secured was like a vision of lost
heaven to a soul in hell. liut, nevertheless,
in his letter- wr;Me:i about the engagement,
there are s-,fV,(-' : evidences that his sclf-
love was (la1
d
al the preference ac
so superior a women
had been so much
corded him by
and one who
sought, lie mentions
with an air of com-
placency that she has employed tho last two
years in refusing live, or six of his acquaint
ance: that he had no idea she loved him, ad
mitting that it was an old attachment on his
part; he dwells on her virtues with a sort of
pride of ownership. There is a sort of child
ish levity about (he frankness of these letters,
very characteristic of the man who skimmed
over the deepest abysses w ith the lightest
jests. Jef ore. the world and to his intimates
he was acting the. i art of the successful
conscious all the while of the deadly' secret
that lay cold at tho bottom of his heart.
Vhen he went to visit Miss Millbauke's
parents, as her acepted lover, she was
struck with his manner and appear
ance; she saw him moody and gloomy,
evidently wrestling with dark and despe
rate thoughts, and : uything but what a happy
and accepted lover .should be. She sought an
interview with him alone, and told him that
she had observed that he was not happy in tho
engagement, and. magnanimously added that,
it on review he found he had been mistaken
in tho nature of hi; feelings, sho would im
mediately release him, and they should remain
only friends. Ore; onio with the conllict of
his feelings. Lord Jiyron fainted away. Miss
Millbanke was cor.inced that his heart must
really be deeply involved in an attachment
with reference to win -h he showed such
strength of emotion, and she spoke no more
of the dissolution of the engagement.
There is no reason to doubt that liyron was,
as he relates in his Dream, profoundly
agonized and agitated, when he stood before
God's altar, with tho trusting young creature
whom he was leading to a fate so awfully
tragic; yet it was not tho memory of Mary
Chaworth, but aiiotlierguilty and more damn
ing memory that overshadowed that hour.
The moment the
carriage doors were shut
in and the bride, tho pa
and despair unrepentant
despair broke forth upon
"You might have saved me
! you had all in your own
upon the bridegi-o.
roxysm of remorse
remorse and angry
her gentle head,
from this, madam
power when I
'then you mi;
oil i red myselt to you lirst.
lit have made nie what you
pleased: hut n,nv you will und that yon have
married a devil !" In Miss Martinoau's
sketches, recently published, is an account of
tho termination of this wedding journey,
which brought them to one of Lady liyron's
ancestral country-seats, where they were to
spend the honeymoon. Miss Martineau says:
"At t lie- altar site iliil not know tint she was a
sairillrc; bill l,e!,ue mimscI of t hat, winter ,I,IV she
knew it, if a j'.aljjeieu: may l,e funnel from MeV face
ami altitude el ;-. sj ,.; : . wlie!i she alijtliteil from i lie
carriaue on the at'er'ioon of lier marriiiif" il.iv. It
was not i Ho traces ot lears wliiuli won tile sympathy
d: tin? nl, l loi ; ler, w'.io Mood at, tin: open door. The
liriili'frrnoiii jiiinp",! j t 1 1 of tint earii.mo and walked
away. The in ate ii'isrlifcil and came up I lie steps
alone, wiiii a cumui i::m:co and frame afjoui.ed and
listless witli ruleiit 'lorrur and despair. The old
Hcnaat luh'c,l ,1 ,.! ! his arm id tin: yuiincf, lonely
creature, as an ;,.-sm nice of sympathy and protec
tion. From tins shock she certainly ral
lied, and saea. Vim pecuniary ilhll'onlhes
of her new imme were exactly what
I a devilled spin' like hers was lifted to encounter.
Her husband nere testimony, alter the cat a strop lie,
that a Milliter iici,., a more Kyinpatlny.init and
iinreealile eumpaiii a, never blessed any man's
heme. lu-n l.e a i ' rwa rds called her cold and
mathematical, ami vcr piuus. and s,( i,,,,;, lt .......
wnen
puliiic upii.io,! ha, I n,me ayainst him. ami
when he
had !;-. i,',nv, that her tlileltii- n,i
her silence ami inanncnlmity, niljjht he' relied ,,,, gl)
I hat he was at ml, iiii-Tiy to make his part good! as
far as she was em ecriioil. Silent she was.even to
tier own parent, lc,s.. feelings she imiguaaim.iiisly
spared, she ii:u i:e: a -t rashly in le.ivin hnn, tho n'ii
she had been most rash in marrying him."
Not at once did tho full
knowledge of tho
ilrendtul reality into which she had entered
come upon the young wife. Sho knew
vaguely, from the wild avowals of tho first
1 . . f j e . : . .i .
iiuiu.s oi men- marriage, mat mere was a
dreadful secret of ;;iiilt, that liyron's soul was
torn with agonies of remorse, and that he had
no love to give to her in return for a love
which was ready to do and dare all for him
let luavely she addressed herself to (ho task
ot soothing and pleasing and calming the man
whom she had taken "for better or woiso
lciing and gifted, with a peculiar air of
refined and spiritual beauty; graceful in
every movement, possessed of exinisito
taste: a perfect companion to his mind
in all the higher walks of literary
ruiuire, ana wUU that infinite plia
bility to all his varying, capricious moods
which true love alone can give; bearing in her
"mi a princely lortuno, wlncli, with
woman s uncalculating generosity, was thrown
at his feet there is no wonder that she
might feel for awhile as if she could enter tho
lists with the very dovil himself, and light
wiin a woman s weapons for tho heart of her
nere are indications scattered
mouu U10 tetters of Lord liyron, which,
.......b.i ..i.w iiuu eo, snowoit that his
wife was ml
date herself to h.m, and to give him a cheer
fill home One nt the poems that ho sends
to his pubhsher about this time, ho speaks of
as being copied by her He had always the
highest regard for her htermy judgments and
opinions and this little incident shows that
she was already associating herself iu a wifelv
IflKninn with liw iti,iu on nn J
- ...... ...... ........ i. tu iiuiiMir
umy a tew days hcloreshe left him forever,
Lord liyron sent Murray manuscripts in T Hdv
liyron's handwriting, of the Siege of Corinth
and lamina, and wrote: "I am very glad
that the handwriting was a favorabln r.t
the wvMn ill tko piece, but yoU n
trust to that, for my copyist would w rite out
anything I desired, in all tho ignorance of in
nocence." There wore lucid intervals in which
Lord liyron felt the charm of his wife's mind
and the stre.igth of her powers. "Hell, yon
could be a poet, too, if you only thought Ho,"
he would say. There were summer hours in
her stormy iife. tho memory of which never
left her, when liyron was as gentle and ten
der as he was beautiful; when ho seemed to
be possessed by a good angel, and then for a
little time all the ideal possibilities of his
nature stood revealed. The most dreadful
men to live with are thoso who thus alternate
between angel and devil. Tho buds of hope
and love called out by a day or two of sun
shine are frozen again and again till tho
tree is killed.
lint there came an hour of revelation an
hour when, in a manner which left no kind of
room for doubt, Lady liyron saw the full
depth of the abyss of infamy which her mar
riage was expected to cover, and understood
that she was expected to bo the cloak and tho
accomplice of this infamy. Many women
would have been utterly crushed by such a
disclosure: some would have lied from him
immediately, and exposed and denounced the
crime. Lady liyron did neither. When all
the hope of womanhood died out of herhoart,
there arose within her, stronger, purer, and
1 rightir, that immortal kind of love such as
Oi.il ieels for the sinner the love of which
Jistis (-poke, and which holds the one wan
derer of more account than tho ninety aud
nine that went not astray.
She would neither leave her husband, nor
Ik tray him, nor would she for one moment
justify his sin: and hence came two years of
convulsive struggle, in which sometimes, for
a while, the good angel seemed to gain
ground, and then the evil one returned with
sevenfold vehemence.
Lord liyron argued his case with himself
and with her, with all tho sophistries of his
powerful mind. lie repudiated Christianity
as authority, asserted tho right of every hu
man being to follow out what he called' "tho
impulses of nature." Subsequently he intro
duced into one of his dramas tho reason by
which he justilied himself iu incest.
In tho drama of "Cain," Adah, tho sister
and the wife of Cain, thus addresses him:
C ain: walk not with this spirit.
Hear with what we have liornii, and love me I
l.i, ve thee.
I.i'ffi r. Jlore than tliy mother and thy sire?
Ailuh. 1 do. Js that a sin, loo'.'
.(' r. No, not yet:
It one day will be in your children.
.1 -. What!
Mast not my ilaucrhter love her brother iiiioch'.'
1au ,.Iii: Not as thou Invest Cain.
At nh. (1 my (iod!
Miail they not love mid briiift forth things that love
Out of their love? Have they not drawn their milk
(Hit nf this bosom? Was not he, their fat tier,
lid n ol the .same sole womb. In the same hour
nil me? did we not love each other? ami
In miiliiplyiiitr our beintr multiply
Thing which will love each other as we love
Them? And as I love thee, my Cam! no not
Forth with this spirit, lie Is not ol ours.
l.i'i iti: The sin I speak of is not. of my making,
.Mid cannot be a sm in you whate or
It sci ins In thos.e who will replace ye in
Jlortality.
.1, t:li. What is the sin which is not
Sin in itself? can circumstances make sin
(if virtue? if it itotli, we are the slaves
Of-'
Lady liyron, though s'ight and almost in
fantine in her bodily pr 'sence, had the soul,
not only of an angelic woman, but of a strong,
reasoning man. It wa the writer's lot to
know her when sho formod tho personal ac-
iiiaitanco of many of tho very first minds of
England; but, among all with whom this ex
perience brought her in connection, there
was none who impressed her so strongly as
Lady liyron. There was an almost super
natural power of moral divination, a grasp of
tho very highest and most comprehensive
things, that made her lightest opinions singu
larly impressive. No doubt that result was
wrought out in a great degree from the
anguish and conllict of these two years, when,
with no one to help or counsel her but
Almighty (.iod, she wrestled and struggled
with ltenus ot darkness tor tho redemption ot
her husband's soul. Sho followed him through
all his sophistical reasonings with a keener
reason. Site besought and implored, iu the
name of his better nature, and by till tho
lorious things that ho was capable of being
nd doing: and she had just power enough to
convulse, and shake, and agonize, but not
power enough to subdue.
T
These two years, in which Lady liyron was
with all her soul struggling to bring her hus
band back to his bettor self, were a series of
passionate convulsions. 1 luring this time,
such was the disordered aud desperate state
of his worldly affairs, that there were- ten
executions for debt levied on their family
establishment, and it was Lady liyron's for
tune each time which settled tho account.
Towards tho last sho and her husband saw less
and less of each other, and he came nioro and
more decidedly under evil inlluences, and
seemed to acipiire a sort of hatred
of her. Lady liyron onco said signi
ficantly to a friend who spoke of
some causeless dislike in another: "My
dear, I have known people to be hated for no
other reason than because they impersonated
conscience." Tho biographers of Lord liyron
and all his apologists are caret ul to narrate
how sw eet, aud amiable, and obliging he was
to everybody who approached hiiji; and the
saying of 1'letcher, his man-servant, that
"anybody could do anything with my Lord,
except my Lady," has often been quoted.
The reason of all this will now be evident.
"My Lady" was fho only ono fully under
standing tho deep and dreadful secrets of his
life who had the courage resolutely, and per
sistently, and inflexibly to plant herself in his
way, and insist upon it that, if ho wont to
destruction, if should bo in spite of her best
etforts.
lie had tried his strength with her fully.
The first attempt had been to make her an
accomplice by sophistry, by destroying her
faith in Christianity, and confusing her souse
of right and wrong, to bring her into tho
ranks of thoso convenient women who regard
the marriage tie only as a friendly alliance to
cover license on both sides. .Yheu her hus
band described to her the continental lati
tude tho good-humored marriage, in which
complaisant couples mutually agreed to torni
the cloak for eaidi other's intidehtiesand
gave her to understand that in this way alone
she could have a peaceful and friendly life
with him, sho answered him simply: "I am
too truly your friend to do this. "hen
Lord liyron found that ho had to do with
ono who would not yield, who knew him
fully, who could not be blinded and could
not be deceived, he determined to rid himselt
of her altogether.
It was when tho state of affairs between
herself and her husband seemed darkest and
most hopeless thnt tho only child of tins
union was born Lord liyron's treatment ot
his wife during tho sensitive period that pre
ceded tho birth of this child, and during her
confinement, was marked by paroxysms of
unmanly brutality, for which the only possi
ble charity on her part was the supposition of
insanity. Moore sheds a significant light on
this period by telling us that about this time
liyron was often drunk day after day with
Jjheijdan. IhfW had. beta jnsanjty ja tflQ
family, and this was tho plea which Lady
liyron's love-put in for him. She regarded
him as, if not insane, at least so nearly ap
proaching the boundaries of insanity as to be
a subject of forbearance and tender pity, and
she loved him with that love resembling a
mother's, which good wives often feel when
they have lost all faith in their husbands'
principles, and all hopes of their affec
tions. Still sho was in heart and soul his
best friend, true to him with a truth which he
himself could not shake. In tho verses ad
dressed to his daughter, Lord liyron speaks
of her as
"The child of love, though linra In bitterness,
Ami nurtured la convulsion.-'
A day or two after tho birth of this child,
Lord liyron came suddenly into Lady liyron's
room, and told her that her mother was dead.
It was an utter falsehood, but it was only ono
of the many nameless injuries and cruelties
by which he expressed his hatred of her. A
short time after her confinement, sho was in
formed by him, in a note, that as soon as sho
was ablo to travel sho must go that ho could
not and would not longer have her about him;
and, when her child was only livo weeks old,
he caried this threat of expulsion into ell'ect.
Here we will insert briclly Lady liyron's
ow n account the only ono sho ever gavo to
the public of this separation. Tho circum
stances under which this brief story was writ
ten are affecting. Lord liyron was dead. The
whole nccount between him andher was closed
forever in this world. Moore's "Life" had
been prepared, containing simply and solely
Lord liyron's own version of their story.
Moore sent this version to Lady livron. aud
requested to know if she had any remarks to
make upon it. In reply, she sent a brief
statement to him the first and only ono that
had ever come from her during all tho years
of tin; separation, and which appears to havo
mainly for its object the exculpation of her
father and mother from the charge made by
the poet of being tho instigators of tho sepa
ration. In this letter she says, with regard to
their separation:
"The facts are : I left London for Klrby Mallury,
the icstdence of my lather and mother, on the mill
of .limitary, lsui. i.oid I'.yren had s Kmtb'd to mo in
w ritii,(r, .lannary (',. his absolute desue that 1 should
leme London on the earliest day that. I could conve
niently tlx. It was not safe for 'mo to undertake the
fatl'iiei,r a journey sooner than the 1 Mil. Previously
to my departure it had been strongly impressed upon
my mind that Lord liyron was under the intltience
of insanity. This opinion was derived, in a irreat.
measure, from the communications made me by his
nearest relatives and. personal attendant, who had
more opportunity than myself for observing him
durliiK the lnt fer "part of iny'stay in town. It was even
n presented to me that he was in dantrcr of destroy
ing himself. With tlii-niiirurmirs of hixjuiiiilii, I had
consulted Dr. liaillie us a friend, .lanuary s. respect
liir the supposed malady. On aeiptaintimr him with
the case, ami with Lord liyron's desire that. 1 should
leave London, lr. liaillie thought that iny absence
miclit be advisable as an experiment, assi'itniiuf the
fact of mental deranirement ; for lir. liaillie, not
havinu had access to Lord liyron, could not pro
nounce a positive opinion on the point, lie enjoined
that, in correspondence with Lord liyron, I shoal, I
avoid all but li'lit- and soothum topics. I'nder these
impressions I h it London, determined to follow the
advice niven by hi. Haillie. Whatever miht have
been the conduct of Lord liyron toward tile irom thu
r.ine ei my niai riaee, yer. supposing; nan to lie In a
state of mental alienation, if was not for me, nor for
any person ot common humanity, to manifest at that
nioiiieni a .sense ol injury.
Nothing more than this letter from Lady
liyron is necessary to substantiate tho fact
that she did not lenfc her husband, but oum
drii i i, from him that he might give himself
up to tho guilty infatuation that was con
suming him, without being tortured by her
imploring face and by tho silent power of her
pre? ence ami ner prayers, i or a long timo
before this sho had seen little of him. On
the day of her departure she passed by tho
door of his room and slopped to caress his
favorite spaniel, which was lying there; and
she confessed to a friend the weakness of
feeling a willingness even to bo some
thing as humble as that poor little creature,
might she only be allowed to remain
and watch over him. Sho went into his
room, where ho and tho partner of his sins
wero sitting together, and said, "liyron, I
conic to say good-by," offering at tho same
time her hand. Lord liyron put his hands
behind him, retreated to tho mantel-pioee,
and, looking around on the two that stood
there with a sarcastic smile, said: "When
shall we three meet again ';" Lady liyron
answered, "In heaven, I trust;" and fheso
were her last words to him on earth. Now,
if the reader wishes to understand tho real
talents of Lord liyron for deception and dis
simulation, let him read, with this story in
his mind, the "Faro Theo Weil" which ho ad
dressed to Lady liyron through tho printer:
"Fare thee well, and If forever,
still forever tare lhee well,
Even though unforeiviiitr, never
Uainst thee shall my heart rebel.
"Would that breast were bared before thee,
Where thy head so oft hafli lain,
While that placid siepp caiue o'er thee
Thou can st never know again.
"ThoiiKh my many faults defaced me,
Cijuld no other arm be found
Thau the one which onco embraced me
To Inillct a cureless wound?"
Tho reaction of society against him at tho
time of tho separation from his wife was some
thing which ho had not expected, and for
which, it appears, he was entirely unprepared.
It broke up the guilty intrigue and drove him
from Kngland. lie had not tho eourago to
meet or endure it. Tho world, to be sure, was
very tar irom suspecting what tho truth was,
but the tide was setting against him with
such vehemence as to make him tremble
every hour lest the whole should bo known;
and henceforth it became a warfare of despera
tion to make his story good, no matter ut
w hoso expense.
lie had tact enough to perceive at first that
the assumption of the pathetic and the mag
nanimous, and general confession of faults,
accompanied with admissions of his wife's
goodness, would bo tho best policy in his
case. In this mood ho thus writes to Moore:
"The fault was not in my choice (unless iu
choosing at all), for 1 do not believe, and I
must say it in tho very dregs of all this bitter
business, that there w as ever a bettor, or even
a brighter, a kinder, or more amiable, agreea
ble being than Lady liyron. I never had,
nor can have, any reproach to make her whilo
with mo. Where there is blame, it belongs
to myself."
As there must be somewhero a scapegoat to
bear tho sins of tho affair, Lord liyron wrote
a poem called "A Sketch," in which he lays
tho blame of stirring up strife on a friend
aud former governess of Lady liyron's; but
in this sketch ho introduces just eulogy on
Lady liyron.
In leaving England, Lord liyron first went
to Switzerland, where ho conceived and in
part wrote out tho tragedy of Manfred.
Jloore speaks of his domestic misfortunes,
and the bufferings which he underwent at
this time, as having an influence in stimu
lating his genius, so that ho was enabled to
write with a greater power. Anybody who
reads the tragedy of Manfred with this story
in his mind will seo that it is true.
The world can easily see, in Moore's biogra
phy, what, after this, was the course of Lord
liyron's life how ho went from shame to
shame, and dishonor to dishonor, and used
the fortune which his wife brought him
in the manner described in those private let
ters which his biographer was left to print.
JUvore, indeed, gays liyron. had, WfulQ tliO refiO-
tion not to touch his lady's fortune, but adds
that it required more self-command that he
possessed to carry out so honorable a purpose.
Lndy liyron made but ono condition with him.
She had him in her power, and she exacted
that the unhappy partner ot hm sins suouni
not follow him out of England, and that the
ruinous intrigue should ho given up. Her
inflexibility on this point kept up that en
mity which was constantly expressing itself in-
soma publication or otner, ann w men mow
her and her private relations with him before
the public.
The story of what Lady liyron did with tho
roition of her fortune which was reserved to
her is a record ol nooio ami sKiuuny a'.nuiuis
tered charities. Pitiful, and wise, and strong,
there was no form of human suffering or
sorrow that did not find with her refuge and
help. Sho gavo not only systematically but
also impulsively. Miss Martineau claims for
her the honor of having first invented prac
tical schools, in which tho children of tho
poor were turned into agriculturists, arti
sans, seamstresses, and good wives for poor
men. While sho managed with ndmirablo
skill and economy permanent institutions of
this sort, she was always ready to relievo suf
fering in any form. Tho fugitive slaves, Wil
liam and Ellen Crafts, escaping to England,
were fostered by her protecting care. In many
cases, where there was distress or anxiety
from poverty among thoso too st lf-respoet ing
to make their sufferings known, tho delicate
hand of Lady liyron minis; ored to the want
with a consideration which spared the most
roliued feeling'-.
As a mother, her course wtm emiirr.vi.;ed
by peculiar trials. The daughter inherited
from the father not only brilliant talents, but
a restlessness and morbid sensibility which
might be too surely traced to the storms and
agitations of the period in which sho was
bom. It was necessary to bring her up in
ignorance of the true history of her mother's
life, and the consequence was that sho could
not fully understand that mother. During
her early girlhood her career was a sourco of
more anxiety than of comfort. Sho married
a man of fashion, ran a brilliant course as a
gay woman of fashion, and died early of a
lingering and painful disease. In the silence
and shaded retirement of the sick room tho
daughter camo wholly back to her mother's
arms and heart; and it was on that
mother's bosom that sho leaned as
she went down into tho dark valley.
It was that mother who placed her
weak and dying hand in that of her Almighty
Saviour. To the children left by her daugh
ter she ministered with the faithfulness of a
guardian angel: and it is owing to her intlu
em o that those who yet remain are among the
noblest and best of mankind. The per
son whoso relation w ith liyron had been so
disastrous, also, in the latter years of her life,
felt Lady liyron's loving and ennobling inllu
ences, and in her last sickness and dying
hours looked to her for consolation and help.
There was an unfortunate child of sin, born
with the curse upon her. over whoso wayward
nature Lady liyron watched with a mother's
tenderness. She was the ono who could
have patience when the patience of every one
else failed: and, though her task was iidiiU
cult one, from the strange, abnormal propen
sities to evil in the object of her care.', yet
Lady liyron never faltered aud never gave
over, until death took tha responsibility troni
her hands.
During all this trial, strange to say, her
belief that tho good iu Lord liyron would
tinally conquer was unshaken. To a friend
who said to her, "Oh. how could you love
him she answered brielly, "My dear, there
was the angel in him." It is iu us all. It
was in this angel that she had faith. It was
for tho deliverance of this angel from de
gradation and shame and sin that she un
ceasingly prayed. Sho read every work that
liyron w rote read it with a deeper knowledge
than any human being but herself could pos
sess. The ribaldry and tho obscenity, and
the insults with which he strove to make her
ridiculous in the world, fell at her pitying
feet unheeded. When ho broke away from all
this unworthy life to devote himself to a
manly enterprise for the redemption of
Greece, she thought that sho saw the begi n
ning of an answer to her prayers.
Even although ono of his latest acts
concerning her was to repeat to Lady
lilessington tho falso accusation which
made Lady liyron tho author of all his errors,
she still had hopes, from tho ono step taken
in tho right direction. In the midst of these
hopes came the news of his sudden death.
On his death-bed it is well known that ho
called his confidential English servant to him,
"Go to my sister tell her go to Lady liyron
you will see her, and say " Hero followed
twenty minutes of indistinct mutterings, in
which tho names of his wife, daughter, and
sister frequently occurred. Ho then said:
"Now I havo toldjyou all." "My Lord," re
plied Fletcher, "I have not understood a word
your lordship has been saying. "Not under
stand me !" exclaimed Lord liyron, with a look
of tho utmost distress; "what a pity ! then
it is too late all is over!" He afterwards,
says Moore, tried to utter a few words, of
which none wero intelligible except "my sis
ter my child." When i letcher returned to
London, Lady Jiyron sent for him, and walked
tho room in convulsive struggles to repress
her tears and sobs, whilo sho over and over
again strove to elicit something from him
which should enlighten her upon what that
last message had been; but in vain tho gates
of eternity were shut in her face, and not a
word had passed to tell her if ho had re
pented. For all that, Lady liyron never doubted his
salvation. Ever before her, during tho fevf
remaining years of her widow hood, was tho
imnge of her husband, purified and ennobled,
with tho shadows of earth forever dissipated,
the stains of sin forever removed "tho angel
in him," as sho expressed it, "made perfect,
according to its divine ideal."
It has been thought by some friends who
have read tho proof-sheets of the forecroinf
that the author should state more Bpeeiiieally
herauthorityforthe.se statements. The cir
cumstances which led tho writer to England
at a certain time originated a friendship and
correspondence with Lady liyron, which was
always regarded as ono of tho greatest acqui
sitions of that visit. On tho occasion of a
second visit to England, in lS.Mi, tho writer
received a note from Lady liyron, indicating
that she wished to havo somo private, confi
dential conversation upon important subjects,
and inviting her for that purpose to spend a
day with her at her country seat near Lou
don. Tho writer went and spent a day with
Lady liyron alono, and tho object of the invi
tation was explained to her. Lady liyron was in
such a state of health that her physicians had
warned her that she had very little time to
livo. She was engaged in thoso duties and
retrospections which every thoughtful person
finds necessary, when coming deliberately
and with open eyes to tho boundaries of this
mortal life. At that time there was a cheap
edition of liyron's works in contemplation,
intended to bring his writings into circula
tion among the masses, and the pathos arising
from the story of his doniestio misfortunea
mm oa rwt wwon loiwl on for giving j(
currency. I'nder these circumstance'
of Lndy liyron's friends had propost
question to her whi ther she hud no!
sponsibility to society for the truth; w
sho did right to allow these writings t
influence over tho popular mind, by gi
silent consent to what she knew ti.
utter falsehoods. Lady liyron's f
lifo had been passed in tho I
lieroio self-abnegation and solf-sacritic
sho had now to consider whether one m,
of self-denial was not required of horj
leaving this world namely, to deel,u!
absoluto truth, no matter at what expc
her own feelings. For this reason it"W
desire to recount the whole liistory to n i
of another country, and entirely out t
sphere of personal nnd local feeling!
might be supposed to inihieiico thoso
country and station in life w hero tho
really liappencd, in order that she ink
helped by si. eh a person's views in mnkf
an opinion as to her own duty. Tho inl
had almost the solemnity of a de:iE
avowal. Lady liyron stated tho facts
have been embodied in this article, nnfl
to the writer a paper containing brief i
ralida of the whole w ith tho dates aflixe
Sho went over, with a clear analysi
liistory of his whole life as she had th'ot
out during the lonely musings! of her vf
hood. She ilwilt on the ancestral t
which gave him a nature of exceptiomU
dangerous st:s, -til ility. Sho went thj
the mismanagements of Ids childhood
history of his s l. ol-d.ivs. the inlhien
the ordinary sch , 1 c o.r.a of classical rwj
on such a mind as his. She sketched t
and cloi rly the internal life of tho youni
of the time, ns she with her purer eye'3
looked thro ;e'i it, and showed how hi
which with less susci ptible libre and c
strength of nature were tolerable for his
panions, were deadly to him, unhinging
nervous system, ami intensifying the dai
of ancestral proclivities. Lady liyroil
pressed the feeling, too, that tho Calvir
theology, as heard in Scotland, had prov)
his ease, as it often does in certain minj
subtle poison. Ho never could either d
li.ivft nl' luinmiin rnnnn ti 1 4-.. H- 11.-3
. ... v.. iim.'iiiu il,..i,c iw lb, mill tjl
problems it proposes embittered his
against Christianity. 1 ho worst of it
do believe," he would often say with viol!
when ho had been emiiloyiuL' all his rf
of reason, w it, and ridicule upon these j
jects. I
Through all this sorrow ful history was
seen, not tho care of a slandered womaj
make her story good, but the pathetic anj
of a mother who treasures every partiijj
hope, every intimation of good, in tlu
whom slio cannot cease to love. Wth
ve. Wth
velt
d to '
I inl
describable resmnation she dw
last hours, thoso words addressed to
to bo uudei.-.tood until repeated
The writ cr was so impressed and excite?
the whole scene and recital that she heg
for two or three days to deliberate bei
lorming any opinion. Sho took the m,
randa with her, returned to London, and
a day or two to tho consideration of the
ject. The decision which sho mado
chiefly influenced by her reverence and a;
tion lor Lady Lyron. Sho seemed so fi
and had suffered so much, sho stood at sul
height above the comprehension of the col
and common world, that tho author hi
feeling that it would almost bo like violal
a shrine to ask her to come forth from
sanctuary of a silence where sho had so li
abode nnd plead her cause. Sho wrota
j.auy j.yron mat while this act ot justice
seem to be called for, and to bo in somo
speeds most desirable, yet, as it would invd
so much that was painful to her, tho wrl
considered that Lady liyron would bo entii
justifiable in leaving the truth to be discln
after her death, and recommended that all
facts necessary should be put iu tho hands
some person, to bo so published.
Years passed on. Lady liyron lingo
four years after this interview, "to tho won
of her physicians and all her friends. A!
lady liyron's death the writer looked n
iously, hoping to see a nieiy.oir of the perj
whom sue considered the most remarks
woman that England had produced in
century. No such memoir has appeare.
tho part of her friends; and tho nii.stresi
Lord liyron has tho ear of tho public,
is sowing far aud wide unworthy slan
which arc eagerly gathered up and read byi
uuuiscrim mining community, lucre ma
family reasons in England which pre
Lady liyron's friends from speaking; but Li
Lyron has an American existence, and ro
ence for a pure womanhood is, wo thin
national characteristic of tho American;
so far as this country is concerned, we
that the public should have this refutatio
the slanders of the Countess Guiocioli'sbc
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