THE DAILY EVENING TELEQRII PHILADELPHIA, TUESDAY, AUGUST 24, 18G9.
THE BYRON SCANDAL.
Lord mron'a Mil of the Onft1on-Vtint the
1 ountran (.iitccloli huts on the Huhit-rl.
As a part of the history of tho scandalous story
net afloat Ity Mrs. Stowe, we give the follow
ing comments upon Lady Byron by the
Countess (tuiceioli. As it was the publication
of this lady's reminiscences that gave Mrs.
Stowe her cue, the public will of conrso
rish to know what she said on this particular
subject:
Lord Uyron's mnrringo exereinod such a
deplorable innuenco over his destiny, that it
is impossible to speak of it succinctly, and
without entering into details; for this one
groat misfortune proved tho fruitful source
of all others. If wo were permitted to be
lieve that Providence Ronietimos abandons
men here below to tho influence of an evil
genius, we might well conceive this baneful
intervention in tho caso of Lord 15yrons con
jugal union, and all tho circumstances that
led to it.
It was but a few months after having re
turned from his travels in tho East that Lord
liyron published his lirst cantos of "Ghildo
Harold," and obtained triumphs as an orator
in the House of Lords. Presenting himself
thus for tho lirst limo to tho public, sur
rounded by all tho prcxtiijc belonging to a
handsome person, rank and youth in a word,
with such an assemblage of ipialities as are
seldom, if ever, found united in ono person
he immediately became tho idol of England.
The enemies created by his boyish satire, and
augmented by tho jealousy his success could
not fail to causo, now hid thomsolves like
those vile insects that slink back into their
holes on the first appearance of the sun's rays,
ready to creep out again when fogs and dark
ness return. Living, then, in tho midst of
tho great world, in the closest intimacy with
many of tho fair sex, and witnessing the small
amount of wedded happiness enjoyed by aris
tocratic couples withiuhis observation, intend
ing also to wing his flight eventually towards
climes more in unison with his tastes, ho no
longer felt that attraction for marriage which
ho had experienced in boyhood (like most
youths), and ho said, qui to seriously, that if
his cousin, George ltyrou, would marry, he,
on his part, would willingly engage not to
enter into wedlock, lint his friends saw with
regret that his eyes were still seeking through
English clouds tho blue skies of tho East, and
that he was kept in perpetual agitation by tho
fair ones who would cast themselves athwart
his path, throwing themselves at his head
when not at his feet. Vainly did he distort
himself, give him '' out to tho public as a
true "Child W v 'uulign himself; his
friends knew thai .. .irt was overflowing
with tenderness, and they could not thus bo
duped. If he had wished to cull some flowers
idly, for the sake of scattering their leaves to
the" breezo. as youth so often does, this sort
of amusement would have been diflicnlt for
him; for tho tine' ladies of his choice, if once
they succeeded in inspiring him with some
kind of tender feeling, fastened themselves
upon him in such a passionate way that his
freedom became greatly shackled, and they
generally ended by making the public the
cvnjhhutti' of their secret.
Lord Byron had some adventures that
brought him annoyance and grief. They
made him fall into low spirits a sort of
moral apathy and indifference for everything.
His best friends, and tho wisest among them,
thought that the surest way of settling him ia
England and getting him out of the scrapes
into which he was being dragged by female
enthusiasm would bo for him to marry, and
they advised him to it pertinaciously. Lord
Byron, ever docile to the voice of ati'ection,
did not repel the counsels given; but he made
them well understand that ho should marry
from reason rather than choice.
And so ho married Miss Mill
Imnke. Lady Byron possessed one
of those minds clever at reasoning, but weak
in judgment; that can reason much without
being reasonable, to use tho words of a great
philosophical moralist of our day; ono of
those minds that act as if life were a problem
in jurisprudence or geometry; who argue,
distinguish, and by dint of syllogisms deceive
themselves learnedly. She always deceived
herself in this way about Lord Byron. "When
she was encuiite, and her contiuo
ment drawing near, the storm continued to
gather above her husband's head. Ho was in
correspondence with Moore, then absont from
London. Moore's apprehensions with regard
to the happiness likely to result from a union
that had never appeared suitable in his eyes
had nevertheless calmed down on receiving
letters from Lord Byron that expressod satis
faction. Yet during the first days of what is
vulgarly termed the "honeymoon" Lord
Byron sent Moore some very melancholy
verses, to be set to music, said ho, and which
began thus:
There's not a joy the work! can give like tliat it takes
away.
Moore had already felt some vaguo dis
quietude, and he asked why he allowed his
mind to dwell on such sorrowful ideas ? Lord
Byron replied that he had written those verses
on learning the death of a friend of his child
hood, the Duke of Dorset, and as his subse
quent letters were full of jests Moore became
reassured. Lord Byron said he was happy,
and so ho was; for Lady Byron, not being
jealous then, continued to bo gentle and
amiable.
"But theso indications of a contented heart
fioon ceased. His mention of tho partner of
his home became more rare and formal, and
there was observable, I thought, through
Home of his letters a feeling of unquiet and
weariness that brought back all those gloomy
anticipations which I had from tho first felt
regarding his fato."
Above all, there were expressions in his
letters that seemed of sad augury. For in
stance, in announcing tho birth of his little
oirl, Lord Byron said he was absorbed in five
hundred contradictory contemplations, al
though he had only one single object in view,
which would probably come to nothing, as it
mostly happens with all we desire. "But
never mind," he said, "as somebody says,
'for the blue sky bends over all. I only
could be glad if it bent over me where it is a
little bluer, like skyish top of bluo Olympus."
On reading this letter, dated the .rth of
January, full of aspirations after a blue sky,
Moore was struck witn tne tone ot molan
choly pervading it; and knowing that it was
Tvird Bvron's habit when under the pressure
of Borrow and uneasiness to seek relief in ex
pressing his yearnings after freedom and after
.f W climes, he wrote to him in these terms
"Do vou know, my dear Byron, there was
somothing in your last letter a sort of mys
tery, as well as a want of your usual elasticity
of spirits which has hung upon my mind
unpleasantly ever Bince. I long to be near
vou. that I inicht know how you really look
nd fel. for these letters tell nothing, and
ono word, a quattr' occhi, is worth whole
reams of correspondence. But only do tell
wn a von are Larmier than that letter has led
mo to fear, and I shall be satisfied. "
"Tt was." Bays Moore, "only a few weeks
after the exchange of these letters UiatiLftdy
Byron took the resolution of separating from
him. She had left London at the end of
January on a visit to her parents in Leicester
shire, and Lord Byron was to join her there
Boon after. They had parted with mutual
demonstrations of attachment and good un
derstanding. On the journey Lady Byron
wrote a letter to her husband, couched in
playful, affectionate language. What, then,
must have been his astonishment when, di
rectly after her arrival at Kirby Mallory, her
father, Sir Balph, wrote to tell Lord Byron
that his daughter was going to remain with
them, and would return to him no more?"
This unexpected stroko fell heavily upon
him. Tho pecuniary embarrassments grow
ing up since his marriage (for ho had already
undergone eight or nine executions in his
own house) had then reached their climax.
He was then, to use his own energetic expres
sion, "alone at his hearth, his penatos trans
fixed around;" and then was he also con
demned to receive the unaccountable intelli
gence that the wife who had just parted from
him in tho most affectionate manner had
abandoned him forever.
His state of mind cannot bo told, nor, per
haps, bo imagined. Still he describes it in
some pasHages of his letters, showing at the
same time tho firmness, dignity, and strength
of mind that always distinguished him.
If we were to enter into a polemic
on this subject, or simply to make conscien
tious researches, there would be many chances
of proving in opposition to tho axiom that
tho fault of these great men lay in the bad
choice of their helpmates. In truth, if there
have been a Germina Donati and a Milbanko,
we also find in ancient times a Calpurnia and
a Portia among tho wives of great men; and,
in modern times, wives of poets who have
been the honor of their sex, proud of their
husbands, and living only for them. Ought
not these examples at least to destroy tho
absolute nature of the theory, making it at
best conditional ? Tho larger number of groat
men, it is true, did not marry. Of this num
ber we find Michael Angelo, Raphael, Pe
trarch, Ariosto, Tasso, Cervantes, Voltaire,
Pope, Allien, and Canova, and many others
among tho poets and philosophers, Bacon,
Newton, Galileo, Descartes, Bayle, and
Leibnitz.
What docs that prove if not that they either
would not or could not marry, but certainly
not that they were incapable of being good
husbands 'i Besides, a thousand causes
apart from the fear of being unhappy in
domestic life, considerations of fortuno, prior
attachments, etc. may have prevented thorn.
But as to Lord Byron, at least, it is still more
certain with regard to him than to any other
that he might have been happy had he undo
a better choice; if circumstances had only
been tolerable, as ho himself says. Lord
Byron had none of thoso faults that often
disturb harmony, because they put tho wife's
virtue to too great a trial. If the best dispo
sition, according to a deep moralist, is that
which gives much and exacts nothing, then
assuredly his deserves to bo so characterized.
Lord Bvrou exacted nothing for himself.
Moreover, discussion, contradiction, teasing,
were insupportable to him; his amiable, jest
ing way even precluded them. In all tho cir
cumstances and all tho details of his lifo ho
displayed that high generosity, that contempt
of petty, selfish, material calculations so well
adapted for gaining hearts in general, and
especially those of women. Add to that tho
prestige belonging to his great beauty, his
wit, his grace, and it will be easy to under
stand the love he must have inspired as soon
as he became known.
And now let us hasten to add that
although Lord Byron was not in love with
Miss Milbanko ho had no dislike to her per
son, for she was rather pretty and pleasing in
appearance. Her reputation for moral and
intellectual qualities standing on such a high
pedestal, Lord Byron naturally concoived that
esteem might well suffice to replace tender
ness. It is certain that if she had lent her
self to it more, and if circumstances had only
been endurable, their union might have pre
sented the same character common to most
aristocratic couples in England, and that even
Lord Byron might have been ablo to act from
virtue in default of feeling; but that little
requisite for him was wholly wanting. I lis
celebrated and touching "Farewell" might be
brought tip as an objection to what we have
just advanced. It might be said that tho
word sincere is a proof of love, and insincere
a proof of falsehood. Lastly, that in all
cases there was a want of delicacy and refine
ment in thus confiding his domestic troubles
to tho public. Well, all that would be ill-
founded, unjust, and contrary to truth. This
is the truth of the matter. Lord Byron had
just been informed that Lady Byron, having
sent off by post the letter wherein she con
firmed all that her father, Sir Balph, had
written, namely, her resolution of not return
ing to the conjugal roof, had afterwards
caused this letter to be sought for, and on its
being restored had given way to almost mad
demonstrations ot joy. Could ho see aught
else in this account, save a certainty of the
evil influences weighing on her, and making
her act in contradiction-to her real senti
ments? He pitied her then as a victim,
thought of all the virtues said to crown her,
the illusive belief in which ho was far thou
from having lost; he forgot tho wrongs she
had inflicted on him the spying she had
kept up around him, the calumnies spread
against him, the use she had mado of the let
ters abstracted trom his desk. ios. all was
forgotten by his generous heart; andaccording
to custom neeveuwent soiaras to accuse him
self to seo in the victim only his wife, tho
mother of his little Ada! Under this excite
ment he was walking about at night in his
solitary apartments, and suddenly chanced to
Eerceive in some corner different things that
ad belonged to Lady Byron dresses and
otner articles ot attire. It is well known how
much the sight of these inanimate momentocs
has power to call up recollections even to
ordinary imaginations. What, then, must
have boon tho vividness with which they
acted on an imagination like Lord Bvroii's?
His heart softened toward her, and ho recol
lected that ono day, under the influence of
Borrows which well nigh robbed him of con
sciousness, ho had answered her harshly.
Thinkmg himself in the wrong, and full of
the anguish that all theso reflections and ob
jects excited in his breast, he allowed his
tears to flow, and, snatching a pon, wrote
down that touching effusion, which somewhat
eased his suffering.
The next day one of his frionds found
these beautiful verses on his desk, and judg
ing of Lady Byron's heart and that of the
public according to his own, ho imprudently
gave them to tho world. Thus w ,...
timtu wuhu. auus we can no
more doubt Lord Byrou's sincerity in writius
them than we can accuse him of publishing
them. But what may cause astonishment is
that they could possibly have been ill-interpreted,
as they were; and, above all, that this
touching "Farewell" which mado Madame
de Stael say she would gladly have been un
happy, like Lady Byron, to draw it forth
that it should not have had power to rescue
her heart from its apathy and bring her to
the feet of her husband, or at least into his
arms, Let us add, in conclusion, that the
most atrocious part ot this affair, and doubt
less the most wounding for him, was pre
cisely Lady Byron's conduct, and in this eon
duct the worst was her cruel silence !
She has been called, after his words, tho
moral Clytcmnestra 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 favor of
the guilty one of antiquity. For she, driven
to crime by fierce passion overpowering rea
son, at least only deprived her husband of
physical life, and in committing the dood ex-
Eosed herself to all its consequences; while
,ady Byron left her husband at the very mo
ment that she Baw him struggling amid a
thousand shoals in tho stormy soa of embar
rassments created by his marriago, and pre
cisely when ho more than ever required
a friendly, fender, and indulgent hand to save
him from tho tempests of lifo. Besides, sho
shut herself up in silence a thousand times
more cruel than Clyteinnestra's poniard, that
only killed the body; whereas Lady Byron's
silence was destinod'to kill the soul, and such
a soul, leaving tho 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 caso, implore
soino inquiry and examination. Sho refused,
and the only favor she granted him was to
send him, one lino day, two persons to sen
whether ho were not mad. Happily Lord
Byron only discovered at a later period the
purport of this strange visit.
In vain did Lord Byron's friend, tho com
panion of all his travels, throw himself at
Lady Byron's feet, imploring her to give over
this fatal silence. Tho only reply sho deigned
was, that she had thought him mad. And
why, then, had sho believed him mad? Be
cause she, a methodical, inflexible woman,
with that nnbendingness which a profound
moralist calls the worship rendered to pride
by a feelingless soul; because sho could not
understand tho possibility of tastes and habits
ditl'erent to those of ordinary routine, or of
her own starched lifo ! Not to bo 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 iutellectiiid lifo
at hours different to hers all that was not
merely annoying for her, but it must be niad
dess: or,if not, it betokened depravity that sho
could neither submit to nor tolerate without
imperilling her own morality!
Such was the grand secret of the cruel
silence which exposed Lord Byron to tho
most maligeant interpretations to all tho
calumny and revenge of his enemies. She
was perhaps the only woman in tho world so
strangely organized tho only ono, perhaps,
capable of not feeling happy and proud at bo-
longing to a man superior to tho rest of hu
inanity; and fatally was it decreed that this
woman alone of her species should be Lord
Byron's wife!
Before closing this chapter it remains for
us to examine it it be true, as several of his
biographers have pretended, that ho wished
to be reunited to his wife. We must hero
declare that Lord Byron's intention, in the
last years of his life, was, on tho contrary,
not to see Lady Byron again.
m .Lord lyron nas remained unap
preciated as a man and unfairly j udged us a
poet. One calls him the poet of evil; an
other the bard ot sorrow. Jut no! .Lord
Byron was not exclusively either tho one or
tho other. Ho was the poet of tho soul, just
as Shakespeare was before him. Lord Byron
in writing never had in view virtue rather
than vice. To take his stand as a teacher of
humanity, at his age, would have seemod
ridiculous to him. After having chosen sub
jects in harmony with his genius and a point
of view favorable to his poetic temperament,
which especially required to throw off tho
yoke of artificial passions and of weak, frivo
lous sentiments, what he really endeavored
was to be powerfully and energetically true.
He thought that truth ought always to have
precedence over everything else that it was
tho source of tho beautiful in art, as well as
of all good in souls. To him lies were evil
and vice; truth was good and virtue. As a
poet, then, he was the bard of tho soul and of
truth; and, as a man, all those who knew him
and all those who read his works must pro
claim him the poet who has come nearest to
the ideal of truth and sincerity.
And now, after having studied this great
soul under every aspect, if there were in
happy England men who should esteem them
selves higher in the scale of virtue than Lord
Byron, because having never been troubled
in their belief, either through circumstances
or the nature of their own mind, they never
admitted or expressed any doubt: because
they are the happy husbands of thoso charm
ing, indulgent, admirable women to be found
in England, who love and forgive so much;
because, being rich, they have not refused
some trifle out of their superfluity to tho
poor; because, proud and happy in privileges
bestowed by their constitution, they have
never blamed those in power. If theso
prosperous ones deemed themselves superior
to their great fellow-citizen, would it bo illibe
ral in them to express now a different
opinion? Might wo not, without rashness,
all'nm that they should rather hold themselves
honored in tho virtue and glory of their illus
trious countryman, humbly acknowledging
that their own greater happiness is not the
work of their own hands ?
In addition to the statements of tho Countess
Guiccioli, we give the following particulars
with regard to tho difficulty between Byron
and his wife. Lady Byron's own statement
of tho facts of tho case aro interesting,
whether as corroborating Mrs. Stowo's story
or not:
THE SKrAIUTION.
The circumstances of the separation be
tween Lord Byron and his wife aro tolerably
well known. Ho never loved her, and at the
time of tho birth of their daughter, Augusta
Ada, ho treated her, as he himself testifies,
with neglect and cruelty. The child was born
on tho loth of December, 1815. On the Cth
of the next month Lady Byron received a
written request from hor husband that she
should leave London immediately. Mooro
gives tho following account of what followed:
"It was a few weeks after the latter communica
tion between us that Lady llyrou adopted '" :
turn of parting from Him. "" '""J'""
the latter end of January, oi a visit to her full r
lioiiHe in Leicestershire, unibor.1 By"
short time to follow her. They hart parted 1 the
utmost kindness. Hhe wrote hlni i a left r J""
playfulness and allectlon cm the ro ad; ai ,'"'":
atelywi her arrival at Kirby Mall ry, father
wrote to acquaint Lord Uyruu that sht would return
to him no more."
A fuller explanation of the affair ia given
in the statement of Lady Byron, published in
18IS0, and quoted by Mrs. Stowe. She men
tions that her departure was in accordance
with her husband's commands. She thought
him insane her impressions being derived,
in a great measure, from the communications
made to her by his nearest relatives and per
sonal attendant, she herself having for some
tiwe seen little of him, Bbe consulted Dr.
Baillio, who, without seeing hid lordship, ad
vised her, as an experiment, to treat him with
all possible mildness and complaisance, i That
was the reason why she wrote to him in a
playful and tender strain. Afterwards she
requested Dr. Baillie and Dr. Lushington to
have an interview with the poet, for the pur
pose of determining his state of mind. Byron's
account of their visit was as loiiows:
"I had been sunt up la a dark street in London.
writing 'The HleRe of Corinth,' and nad refused
myself to every one tin it was iiiuhiipu. i wm mir
prlsp I ono (lav by a doctor and a lawyer almost
toreltiR themselves at the snme time into my room ;
I did rot know till nrterwarus tne real onjeuioi ineir
visit. 1 thnnnht their (inestloim slmmlsr, frivolous,
and somewhat Importunate, If not Impertinent; but
what should 1 have thought If I had known that they
were sent to provide proms of my insanity? I have
no doubt that my answers to these emissaries' In
terrogations were not very rational or consistent,
for my tniiiRlmitlon was heated by other thliiKs; but
r liiilllle could not conscientiously make me oat a
certificate for Hedlinn, and perhaps the lawyer iiavc
a more favorable report to his employers. The doe
tor said afterwards he had been told that 1 always
looked down when Ladv Hvron bent her eves on
me, and exhibited other svmptoms equally Infallible,
partletilarlv those that marked the late Unit's case
so strongly.
In "Don Junn," canto i., stanza '27, ho de
scribes tho affair again:
"For Inez called some druggists and phvslclnnv,
And tried to prove lu-r loving lord whs mwl.
Hut as he had some liic.l t Intermissions,
She next decided he was only bail ;
Yet when they nsk'd her lor her depositions,
No sort of explanation could be had,
fave that her duty both to man and Und
liequlred this conduct which seem'd very odd."
Lady Byron continues the story in tho fol
lowing words, not quoted by Mrs. fetowo:
"It has been artrued that I parted from Lord ltyron
In perlect harmony; that feelings Incompatible with
unv deep sense, of injury had dictated the letter
which I addressed to him; and that my sentiments
must have been cluuured by persuasion and miene
ri nce when I was under the roof of mv parents.
These assertions and Inferences are wholly destitute
ot foundation. The accounts (riven me after I left
Lord I'.yron by the persons in constant intercourse
with hiin adde'd to those doubts which had before
transiently occurred to mv mind, as to the reality
of the alleged disease, and tho reports of his medi
cal attendant were far from establishing the
existence of anvtlilnir like lunacy. I'nder
this uncertainty, 1 deemed it right to com
munlcate to niy parents that if 1 were to con.
siiler Lord Ilvron's past conduct as that of i
persoti-of sound mind, nothing could Induce mo to
return to him. It therefore appeared expedient, ooth
to them and myself to consult the attlest advisers.
For that obtect. and a.so to obtain still further Infer
mation respecting appearances which seemed to in
dicate mental derangement, my mother determined
to go to Loudon. She was empowered by me to take
legal opinions on a written statement of mine, though
I hud then reasons for reserving a part of the caso
from tne knowledge even or my ratner and moriier.
llelng convinced by the result of these inquiries, ami
by the tenor of Lord Uyron's proceedings, that, the
notion of insanity was an illusion, I no longer hesi
tated to authorize such measures as were necessary,
in order to secure me from being ever again
placed In his power. Conformably with tills resolu
tion, my fai her wrote to him on the 2d of February
to propose an amicable separation. Lord llyrou lit
lirst rejected this proposal ; but when it was distinctly
notitied to him that II lie persisted In Ills relusal re
course must be had to legal measures, he agreed to
sign a deed of separation, t'pon applying M Hr.
I.usliington, who was intimately acquainted with all
the circumstances, to state in writing what he recol
lected 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 toward Lord liyron:
"My Dear Lady llyrou; I can rely upon the a",ri
racy of my memory for the following statement:!
was originally consulted by Lady Noel on your be
half while you were in the country. The' circum
stances detailed by her were such as justilled
separation, but they were not of that aggravated di
seription as to render such a measure indispensable.
on l.ady Noel s representation, 1 deemed a recon
ciliation with Lord Myron practicable, and felt, most
sincerely, a wish to aid lu ellectlng it.
There was not, en Lady Noel's part,
any exaggeration of the facts, nor so far as I
could perceive, any determination to pre
vent a return to Lord llyrou; certainly none was ex
pressed when 1 spoke of a reconciliation. When you
came to town in about a fortnight, or perhaps more,
after my lirst Interview with Lady Noel I was for
the lirst time informed by you of facts utterly un
known, as i nave no donor, ro Mr itaipn ami l.auy
Noel. On receiving this additional Information my
opiniou was entirely changed; 1 considered a recon
ciliation impossible. 1 declared my opinion, and
added that, if such an idea should be entertained, I
could not, either professionally or otherwise, take
any part towards ellectlng It. Believe me, very faith
fully yours, Stki'iifn Lcsuinuton.
"Limit Cieorge street, Jan. 31, 18:10."
Whtitever tho secret charge brought for
ward at this interview may have been, it is
evident that Dr. Lushington was persuaded
of its truth and its gravity. Lord Byron
always professed to be ignorant of tho mo
tives of his wife's conduct, and complained
that neither sho nor her friends would make
any specific charge which, would give him an
opportunity of self-vindication or atonement.
I le blamed himself severely for his general
behavior, praised his wife in the warmest
terms, and declared that for a year ho
cherished the hope of reconciliation. But
later in lifo, when this hope had left him,
he manifested an extremely bitter
feeling towards his wife, and satirized her
with great coarseness in several of his poems.
If we are to suppose that he was sincere in
the expression of theso various feelings in
his hope of reconciliation and in his subse
quent bitterness it will be very hard to be
lieve that he had really been guilty of the
awful crime of which he is accused. Still
more difficult will it bo to reconcile with the
consciousness of such guilt tho following
lines, written a few months after the separa
tion, "On hearing that Lady Byron was ill:"
I have had many foes, but none like thee;
For 'gainst the rest myself 1 could defend.
And be avenged, or turn them Into friend ;
Hut thou In safe Implacability
llast naught to dread in thy own weakrfess shielded,
And in my love which hath but too much yielded,
And spared for thy sake some 1 should not spare
And thus upon tho world trust lu thy truth,
And the wild fame of my ungovern'd youth
tin things that were not. and on things that are
Kven upon such a basis iutst thou bunt
A monument, whose cement hath been guilt!
The moral Clytemnestra of thy Lord,
And hew'd dow n Willi au unsuspected sword,
Fame, peace, and hope and all the better life
Which, but lor this cold treason of thy heart.
Might still have risen from out the grave of strife,
And found a nobler duty than to part.
MKS. LEIGH.
Mrs. Leigh, whose name is coupled with
the poet's in this horrible story, was his half-
sister, and some nve or six yearn m njuuh.
' His father had run off to the continent with
tho wife of Lord Carmarthen, and married
the lady after the Marquis hud obtained a di
vorce from her. Augusta was tho only fruit
of this union. Tho poet was the off spring of
a second marriage. Brother and sister did
not know each other indeed they rarely met
until after Augusta's marriage to Colonel
Leigh. Then there sprang up botweon them
a very tender affection, and Byron spoke of
her as the person whom he loved best of all
the world. We find a passage in his diary,
under date of March ', 1814, in which
1 speaking of a lady whom he had admired
at a party, he says: "After all there
may be something of association in
this. She is a friend of Augusta's, and
whatever she loves I can t help liking. And
again: "Augusta wants me to make it up
with Carlisle. I have refused every body
else, but I can't deny her anything; so I must
e'en do it, though I had as lief 'drink up Eisol
eat a crocodile.' Let me see Ward, the
Hollands, the Lambs, Rogers, eto. every
body, more or less, have been trying for the
past two years to accommodate this couplet
quarrel, to no purpose. I shall laugh if
Augustt. succeeds." Yet, if Mrs. Stowe's
Btory is true, it must have been about this
time th )t the "adulterous intrigue" began.
Such expressions in the diary do not savor of
itj Btili m does the poem "To Augusta,"
written soon after the separation, and Byron's
consequent departure from England:
My sisterl my sweet slsterl If a name
i 'rarer and purer were, It should be thine.
Mountains and seas divide us, but 1 claim
No teats, but tenderness to unswer mine.
Go where I will, to me thou art the same
n loveu refrret wtilcn I would not reslga.
There yet are two things In my destiny.
A world to roam through, and a homo with thee.
Tne first wss nothing had I still the last
j i. were ine naven or my Happiness;
lint other claims and oilier ties thou hast.
And mine Is not the wish to make them less.
I can reduce all feelings but this one;
And that I would not: for at length 1 see
Such scenes as those wherein mv life begun,
The earliest even the only paths for me
Had I but sooner learnt the crowd to shun,
I had been better than I now can be;
The passions which have torn me would have slept ;
had not fcullcr'd, and thou hadst not wept.
For thee, my own sweet sister, In thy heart
1 know myself secure, as thou In mine;
We were and are 1 am, even as thou art
ltelngs who ne'er each other can resign;
It is the same, together or apart,
From life's commencement to Its Blow decline
We nre entwined let death come slow or fast.
The tie which bound the lirst endures the last!
They never met afterward.
THE MISTAKE OF A YEAR.
It is objected that cither Mrs. Stowe or
Lady Byron has made a misstatement grave
euouuh to cast discredit upon tne whole story.
in representing that tho adulterous intrigue
was carried on lor two years after the mar
ringo, whereas their wedded life lasted only
one year, and immediately after tho separa.
tion Byron left England and never saw his
sister again. A more careful reading of the
passage in question will show, wo think, that
Mrs. Stowe s statement amounts merely to
this, that the intrigue lasted two years in all.
Elsewhere sho says that it began before mar
riage. Tho following is tho doubtful pas
sage :
"Many women would have been utterly crushed by
such a disclosure; some would have tied from Mini
Immediately, ami exposed and denounced the crime.
I.ady Hyron did neither. When all the hope of
womanhood died out or her heart, there arose within
her, stronger, purer, ami brighter, that Immortal
kind of love such as (iod feels for the sinner the
love of which Jesus spoke, ami which holds the one
wanderer of more account than tho ninety and nine
who went not astray. She would neither leave her
husband nor betray him, nor would she for one mo
ment justify his siii ; ami hence came two years of
convulsive struggle, in which, sometimes, for a
While, the good angel seemed to gain ground,
and then the evil cue returned with sevenfold vehe
mence.'' By a singular mistake tho critics almost
universally have understood this to bo a two
years' "convulsive struggle" in Lady Byron's
own breast, or between Lady Byron and hor
husband. It will bo seen, however, that Mrs.
Stowe only represents the poet himself as
struggling two years with his sin. It is clum
sily expressed, but the writer or, at any
rate, her informant probnbly did not mean
to sny that tho struggle lasted for two years
af ter Ludy Byron discovered the intrigue.
LADY BYRON 's CHARACTER.
As to Lady Byron's character there are
hardly two opinions. Mrs. Stowe, we dare
say, does not rate her too high. The lately
piibflshed " Diary and Correspondence of
Henry Crabb Bobinson'' contains frequent
mention of her as she was during the period
of Mrs. Stowe's intimacy, in tho latter part of
her life. "I consider her," says this acute
observer, "ono of tho best women of the day.
Her means and her good-will are both great.
'Sho lives to do good,' says Dr. King, and I
believe tins to be true. . . . "1 was
much pleased with Lady Byron. She is a very
remarkable woman, and is most generous and
high-minded. "
HER MENTAL CONDITION.
Dr. King writes to Robinson in February,
ls.ri t: "Lady Byron is now quite recovered.
She is always feeble, and obliged to husband
her strength and calculate her powers; but
her mind is ever intact, pure, and lofty. It
seems to pour forth its streams of benevo
lence and judgment even trom tne sick-bed;
a perennial fountain. Her state of mind has
always given me confidence in her severest
illnesses. Yet her power of bearing fatigue
occasionally, as during the illness and death
of her daughter, is as wonderful."
As ate as tho year lSHli (tho date of tho
Stowe disclosures) wo find letters from Lady
Byron to Robinson which are far from indi
cating any decay of her mental faculties.
Here is one in which she speaks of her hus
band: I.ADY BY It ON ON 1IEK nt'SBAND'S CHARACTER.
IiKKinTON, March B, lsns. I recollect only those
passages of Dr. Kennedy's book which bear upon
the opinions of Lord liyron. Strange as it may
seem, Dr. Kennedy Is most faithful where you doubt
his being so. Not merely from casual expressions,
but from the whole tenor of Lord Uyron's feelings,
I could not but conclude he was a believer In the In
spirations of the bible, and had the gloomiest Cal
viniHtlc tenets. To that unhappy view of tho rela
tion of tho creature to the Creator I have ascribed
the misery of his life.
It is enough for mo to remember that he who thinks
his transgressions beyond ur;i-wi (and such was
his own deepest Ieeling lmn righteousness beyond
that of the self-satisfied sinner ; or, perhaps, of the
naif-awakened, it was Impossible for me to doubt
that, could he have been at once assured of pardon,
his living faith In a moral duty and love of virtue
("I love the virtues which I cannot claim") would
have conquered every temptation. Judge,
then, how 1 must hate the Creed which
made him see God as an Avenger, not a Father. My
own impressions were just, the reverse, bat could
have little weight, and it was in vain to seek to turn
his thoughts for long from that vice tixe. with which
he connected his physical peculiarity as a stamp.
Instead of being made happier by any apparent good,
he felt convinced that every blessing would lie
"turned into a curse" to him. Who, possessed by
such ideas, could lead a life of love and service to
tied or man 1 They must in a measure realize them
selves. "The worst of it is, I ih believe," he said.
J, like all connected with him, was broken against
the rock of Predestination. I may be pardoned for
referring to his frequent expression of the senti
ment that 1 was only sent to show him the happi
ness he was forbidden to enjty. Vou will now bet
ter understand why "The Deformed Transformed '
is too painful to me for discussion.
JT. T. EASTOW. . M'MAHON.
E
ahti x men Aiioiv,
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BELOW WALNUT.
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The splendid new voola on f hla farnriie ,,t.rnJ'
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u iir.ni u IIAVRR;
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First I
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FIKST WI1AUF above MAR
THKOITr.II RATRS .11
Carolina, via Seaboard Air I.ino Railroad
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In North and ft
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mend it to the public as tho molt desirable mdifiii
carrying every description of freight meumi
1." II. H- III t. I Immii..
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WII.r.TAM P niTnn i
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P. CKOV KLL A i',Q., Agents at Norfolk. 1
Ftn. J . T II A K V H V unl Din 1 XT nr.. . . . . .
T.
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LINK FOR
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Bailing on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.
RF.DUCTION OF RATES.
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Freight received daily. 1
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DRUGS, PAINTS, ETO.
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4