Such, then, was the woman who was persecuted during her lifetime and

slandered in her grave. Her traducers at first whispered, and afterwards

openly stated, not only that she had committed incest with her brother,

but that she had employed her influence over him to make a reconciliation

with his wife impossible.

If that were so, it is simply inconceivable that Hobhouse should have

remained her lifelong friend. His character is well known. Not only his

public but much of his private life is an open book. As a gentleman and a

man of honour he was above suspicion. From his long and close intimacy

with Byron, there were but few secrets between them; and Hobhouse

undoubtedly knew the whole truth of the matter between Byron and his

sister. He was Byron's most trusted friend during life, and executor at

his death.

It has never been disputed that, at the time of the separation, Hobhouse

demanded from Lady Byron's representative a formal disavowal of that

monstrous charge; otherwise the whole matter would be taken into a court

of law. He would allow no equivocation. The charge must either be

withdrawn, then and there, or substantiated in open court. When Lady

Byron, through her representative, _unreservedly_ disavowed the

imputation, Byron was satisfied, and consented to sign the deed of

separation.

Six months after Byron left England, Hobhouse visited him in Switzerland;

and on September 9, 1816, he wrote as follows to Augusta Leigh:

'It would be a great injustice to suppose that [Byron] has dismissed

the subject from his thoughts, or indeed from his conversation, _upon

any other motive than that which the most bitter of his enemies would

commend_. The uniformly tranquil and guarded manner shows the effect

which it is meant to hide.... I trust the news from your Lowestoft

correspondent [Lady Byron] will not be so bad as it was when I last

saw you. Pardon me, dear Mrs. Leigh, if I venture to advise the

strictest confinement to very _common_ topics in all you say in that

quarter. _Repay kindness in any other way than by confidence._ I say

this, not in reference to the lady's character, but as a maxim to

serve for all cases.

'Ever most faithfully yours,

'J. C. HOBHOUSE.'

This letter shows, not only that the writer was firmly convinced of Mrs.

Leigh's innocence, but that he was afraid lest Lady Byron would worm the

real secret out of Byron's sister, by appealing, through acts of kindness,

to her sense of gratitude. He knew that Mrs. Leigh had a very difficult

part to perform. Her loyalty to Byron and Mary Chaworth had already borne

a severe test, and he wished her to realize how much depended on her

discretion.

The task of keeping in touch with Lady Byron, without dispelling her

illusions, was so trying to Augusta Leigh's naturally frank nature as

almost to drive her to despair. Lady Byron, knowing that Byron was in

constant correspondence with his sister, asked permission to read his

letters, and it was difficult, without plausible excuse, to withhold them.

Byron's correspondence was never characterized by reticence. He invariably

unburdened his mind, heedless of the effect which his words might have

upon those to whom his letters were shown. In these circumstances Mrs.

Leigh was kept in a fever of apprehension as to what Lady Byron might

glean, even from the winnowed portions which, from time to time, were

submitted for her perusal.

It has since transpired that, without Augusta's knowledge, Lady Byron kept

a copy of everything that was shown to her.

It appears from 'Astarte' that, in the early part of September, 1816,

Augusta Leigh underwent a rigorous cross-examination--not only from Lady

Byron, but from inquisitive acquaintances, who were determined to extract

from her replies proofs of her guilt.

Lord Lovelace, on Lady Byron's authority, states that between August 31

and September 14 (the precise date is not given) Augusta confessed to

Lady Byron that she had committed incest with her brother _previous to his

marriage_. This strange admission, which we are told had been long

expected, seems to have completely satisfied Lady Byron. _After having

promised to keep her secret inviolate_, she wrote to several of her

friends, and told them that Augusta had made 'a full confession of her

guilt.' There had been no witnesses at the meeting between these two

ladies, and the incriminating letters, which Lord Lovelace says Mrs. Leigh

wrote to Lady Byron, are not given in 'Astarte'! But in 1817 Lady Byron,

referring to these meetings, says: 'She acknowledged that the verses, "I

speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name,"' were addressed to her.'

Augusta was certainly in an awkward predicament. By adopting Medora she

had, at considerable personal risk, saved the reputation of Mary Chaworth.

If she had now told the whole truth--namely, that Medora was merely her

daughter by adoption--she would have been pressed to prove it by divulging

the identity of that child's mother. This was of course impossible. Not

only would she have mortally offended Byron, and have betrayed his trust

in her, but the fortune which by his will would devolve upon her children

must have passed into other hands. For those reasons it was indispensable

that the truth should be veiled. As to Mrs. Leigh's alleged statement that

the lines, 'I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name,'--were

addressed to her, we say nothing. By that portion of her so-called

'confession' we may gauge the value of the rest. That Lady Byron should

have been thus deceived affords a strong proof of her gullibility. There

is nothing to show exactly what passed at these remarkable interviews. We

know that Augusta's statements, made orally, were subsequently written

down from memory; because Lady Byron told one of her friends that she had

sent the said 'confession' to the Lord Chancellor (Eldon), 'as a bar to

any future proceedings that might be taken by Lord Byron to obtain the

custody of Ada.'

It is clear that Mrs. Leigh's communication would never have been made

except under a promise of secrecy. She did not suspect the treachery which

Lady Byron contemplated, and thought that she might safely encourage her

delusions. Perhaps she divined that Lady Byron had already convinced

herself that Medora was Byron's child. At any rate, she knew enough of

Lady Byron to be certain that there would be no peace until that lady had

satisfied herself that her suspicions were well founded. Unhappily for

Mrs. Leigh, Hobhouse's warning arrived too late; her ruse failed, and her

reputation suffered during life. Although she was destined to bear the

stigma of a crime of which she was innocent, she never wavered, and died

with her secret unrevealed. Lady Byron, with all her ingenuity, never

divined the truth. Towards the close of her life she became uneasy in her

mind, and died under the impression that 'Augusta had made a fool of her.'

Immediately after Mrs. Leigh's interviews with Lady Byron she wrote to

Byron, and revealed the state of affairs. That, at the same time, she

reproached him for the troubles he had brought upon her is evident from

Byron's journal of September 29:

'I am past reproaches, and there is a time for all things. I am past

the wish of vengeance, and I know of none like what I have suffered;

but the hour will come when what I feel must be felt, and the [truth

will out?]--but enough.'

It was at this time, also, that Byron thought that the 'Epistle to

Augusta'--sent to Murray on August 28--had better not be published. It did

not, in fact, see the light until 1830. Lady Byron's conduct in this

business affected him profoundly, and his feelings towards her changed

completely. He was also angry with Augusta for a time, and told her that

it was

'on her account principally that he had given way at all and signed

the separation, for he thought they would endeavour to drag her into

it, although they had no business with anything previous to his

marriage with that infernal fiend, whose destruction he should yet

see.'[59]

In spite of Lady Byron's prejudice against Mrs. Leigh, as time went on she

gradually realized that her sister-in-law's so-called 'confession' was not

consistent either with her known disposition, her reputation in society,

or with her general conduct. In order to satisfy her conscience, Lady

Byron, in April, 1851, arranged a meeting with Mrs. Leigh at Reigate.

Clearly, it was Lady Byron's purpose to obtain a full confession from Mrs.

Leigh of the crime which she had long suspected. Lady Byron came to

Reigate accompanied by the Rev. Frederick Robertson of Brighton, who

happened then to be her spiritual adviser. This time Augusta Leigh's

'confession' was to be made before an unimpeachable witness, who would

keep a record of what passed. It deeply mortified Lady Byron to find that

Mrs. Leigh--far from making any 'confession'--appeared before her in 'all

the pride of innocence,' and, after saying that she had always been loyal

to Byron and his wife, and had never tried to keep them apart, told Lady

Byron that Hobhouse--who was still living--had expressed his opinion that

Lady Byron had every reason to be grateful to Mrs. Leigh; for she not only

risked the loss of property, but what was much dearer to her, Byron's

affection.[60]

Alas, the bubble had burst! The _confession_, upon which the peace of Lady

Byron's conscience depended, was transformed into an avowal of innocence,

which no threats could shake, no arguments could weaken, and no reproaches

divert.

CHAPTER II

It is because 'Astarte' is a pretentious and plausible record of fallacies

that the present writer feels bound to take note of its arguments.

In order to avoid circumlocution and tedious excursions over debatable

ground, we will assume that the reader is tolerably well acquainted with

literature relating to the separation of Lord and Lady Byron.

It would certainly have been better if the details of Byron's quarrel with

his wife had been ignored. Prior to the publication of Mrs. Beecher

Stowe's articles, in 1869, the greatest tenderness had been shown towards

Lady Byron by all writers upon Byron's career and poetry, and by all those

who alluded to his unhappy marriage. Everyone respected Lady Byron's

excellent qualities, and no one accused her of any breach of faith in her

conduct towards either her husband or his sister. Lady Byron was generally

regarded as a virtuous and high-minded woman, with a hard and cold

disposition, but nothing worse was said or thought of her, and the world

really sympathized with her sorrows.

But when her self-imposed silence was broken by Mrs. Beecher Stowe, and

Byron stood publicly accused on Lady Byron's authority of an odious crime

which she had never attempted to prove during the poet's lifetime, there

arose a revulsion of feeling against her memory. It was generally felt,

after the suffering and the patience of a lifetime, that Lady Byron might

well have evinced a deeper Christian spirit at its close.

As time went on, the memory of this untoward incident gradually faded

away, and the present generation thought little of the rights or wrongs of

a controversy which had moved their forefathers so deeply. The dead, so to

speak, had buried their dead, and all would soon have been forgotten.

Unfortunately, the late Lord Lovelace, a grandson of Lady Byron, goaded by

perusal of the attacks made upon Lady Byron's memory, after Mrs. Beecher

Stowe's revelations in 1869, was induced in 1905 to circulate among 'those

who, for special reasons, ought to have the means of acquainting

themselves with the true position of Lord and Lady Byron,' a work entitled

'Astarte,' which is mainly a compilation of letters and data, skilfully

selected for the purpose of defaming his grandfather.

After informing the reader that 'the public of this age would do well to

pay no attention to voluminous complications and caricatures of Lord

Byron,' Lord Lovelace gaily proceeds, on the flimsiest of evidence, to

blast, not only Byron's name, but also the reputation of the poet's

half-sister, Augusta Leigh.

After telling the world that Byron 'after his death was less honoured than

an outcast,' Lord Lovelace endeavours to justify the public neglect to

honour the remains of a great national poet by accusing Byron of incest.

Lord Lovelace's claim to have been the sole depositary of so damning a

secret is really comical, because, as a matter of fact, he never knew the

truth at all. He thought that he had only, like Pandora, to open his box

for all the evil to fly out, forgetting that Truth has an awkward habit

of lying at the bottom. He seems, however, to have had some inkling of

this, for he is careful to remind us that 'Truth comes in the last, and

very late, limping along on the arm of Time.'

In support of a theory which is supposed to be revealed by his papers,

Lord Lovelace declares that a solution of Byron's mystery may be found in

his poems, and he fixes on 'Manfred' for the key. The haunting remorse of

Manfred is once more trotted out to prove that Byron committed incest.

There is nothing new in this 'nightmare of folly,' for Byron himself was

well aware of the interpretation placed upon that poem by his

contemporaries.

Manfred is certainly the revelation of deep remorse, but the crime for

which he suffers had no connection with Augusta Leigh. Lord Lovelace says

that 'the germ of this nightmare in blank verse _was in the actual letters

of the living Astarte_.' The statement may be true; but he was certainly

not in a position to prove it, for he knew not, to the last hour of his

life, who the living Astarte was.

It is a sad story that should never have been told, and the present writer

regrets that circumstances should have compelled him to save the

reputation of one good woman by revealing matters affecting the

misfortunes of another. But the blame must lie with those inconsiderate,

ignorant, and prejudiced persons who, in an attempt to justify Lady

Byron's conduct, cruelly assailed the memory of one who

'When fortune changed--and love fled far,

And hatred's shafts flew thick and fast,'

was the solitary star which rose, and set not to the last.

On January 2, 1815, Lord and Lady Byron were married at Seaham. The little

that is known of their married life may be found in letters and memoranda

of people who were in actual correspondence with them, and the details

which we now give from various sources are necessary to a better

understanding of the causes which led to a separation between husband and

wife in January, 1816.

According to a statement made by Lady Byron to her friend Lady Anne

Barnard, shortly after a rumour of the separation spread in London, there

never was any real love on either side. The following passages are taken

from some private family memoirs written by Lady Anne herself:

'I heard of Lady Byron's distress, and entreated her to come and let

me see and hear her, if she conceived my sympathy or counsel could be

any comfort to her. She came, but what a tale was unfolded by this

interesting young creature, who had so fondly hoped to have made

[Byron] happy! They had not been an hour in the carriage ... when

Byron, breaking into a malignant sneer, said: "Oh, what a dupe you

have been to your imagination! How is it possible a woman of your

sense could form the wild hope of reforming _me_? Many are the tears

you will have to shed ere that plan is accomplished. It is enough for

me that you are my wife for me to hate you; if you were the wife of

any other man, I own you might have charms," etc.

'I listened in astonishment,' writes Lady Anne. '"How could you go on

after this, my dear!" said I. "Why did you not return to your

father's?"

'"Because I had not a conception he was in earnest; because I reckoned

it a bad jest, and told him so--that my opinion of him was very

different from his of himself, otherwise he would not find me by his

side. He laughed it over when he saw me appear hurt, and I forgot what

had passed till forced to remember it. I believe he was pleased with

me, too, for a little while. I suppose it had escaped his memory that

I was his wife."

'But,' says Lady Anne, 'she described the happiness they enjoyed to

have been unequal and perturbed. Her situation in a short time might

have entitled her to some tenderness, but she made no claim on him for

any. He sometimes reproached her for the motives that had induced her

to marry him--"all was vanity, the vanity of Miss Milbanke carrying

the point of reforming Lord Byron! He always knew _her_ inducements;

her pride shut her eyes to _his_; _he_ wished to build up his

character and his fortunes; both were somewhat deranged; she had a

high name, and would have a fortune worth his attention--let her look

to that for _his_ motives!"

'"Oh, Byron, Byron," she said, "how you desolate me!" He would then

accuse himself of being mad, and throw himself on the ground in a

frenzy, which Lady Byron believed was affected to conceal the coldness

and malignity of his heart--an affectation which at that time never

failed to meet with the tenderest commiseration.... Lady Byron saw the

precipice on which she stood, and kept his sister with her as much as

possible. He returned in the evenings from the haunts of vice, where

he made her understand he had been, with manners so profligate.

'"Oh, wretch!" said I. "And had he no moments of remorse?" "Sometimes

he appeared to have them," replied Lady Byron. "One night, coming home

from one of his lawless parties, he saw me so indignantly collected,

bearing all with such determined calmness, that a rush of remorse

seemed to come over him; he called himself a monster, though his

sister was present, and threw himself in agony at my feet. He said

that I could not--no, I could not forgive him such injuries. He was

sure that he had lost me for ever! Astonished at the return of virtue,

my tears, I believe, flowed over his face, and I said: 'Byron, all is

forgotten; never, never shall you hear of it more!' He started up,

and, folding his arms while he looked at me, burst into laughter.

'What do you mean?' said I. 'Only a philosophical experiment, that's

all,' said he. 'I wished to ascertain the value of your

resolutions.'"

'I need not say more of this prince of duplicity,' continues Lady Anne

Barnard, 'except that varied were his methods of rendering her

wretched, even to the last.'

There is enough evidence in the above statement to show that a separation

between Lord and Lady Byron was inevitable. Byron's temper, always

capricious, became ungovernable under the vexatious exigencies of his

financial affairs. Several executions had taken place in their house

during the year, and it is said that even the beds upon which they slept

were in the possession of the bailiffs.

It has been shown by those who knew Byron well that he was never suited to

the married state. His temperament was an obstacle to happiness in

marriage. He lacked the power of self-command, and the irritation produced

by the shattered state of his fortune drove him at times to explosions,

which were very like madness. We have an example of this in his conduct

one night in Ithaca, when his companions were afraid to enter his room.

Lady Byron could not meet these explosions in any effectual manner. The

more fiercely he vented his exasperation, the colder she became. Lady

Byron, like her husband, was a spoilt child who set her own self-will

against his. If she had possessed more tact and deeper affections, she

might possibly have managed him. We frankly admit that Byron's conduct

during this period was not calculated to win the love and respect of any

woman. During his mad moods he did his utmost to blacken his own

character, and it is not surprising that Lady Byron, who had heard much of

his conduct before marriage, implicitly believed him. His so-called

'mystifications' were all taken seriously. She was, moreover, of a

jealous nature, and Byron delighted to torment her by suggestions of

immorality which had no foundation in fact. In such a character as Lady

Byron's, a hint was enough to awaken the darkest suspicions, and when an

impression had been stamped on her mind it was impossible to remove it.

Byron, of course, fanned the flame, for he was bored to death in the bonds

of wedlock, and we are inclined to believe that he did many outrageous

things in order to drive his wife on the road to a separation. When the

moment came he was sorry, but he certainly brought matters designedly to a

crisis. His sister Augusta was much in favour of his marriage, and had

strong hopes that happiness was in store for them, as the following letter

will show:

'SIX MILE BOTTOM,

'_February 15, 1815_.

'MY DEAR MR. HODGSON,

'You could not have gratified me more than by giving me an opportunity

of writing on my favourite subject to one so truly worthy of it as you

are; indeed, I have repeatedly wished of late that I could communicate

with you. Most thankful do I feel that I have so much to say that will

delight you. I have every reason to think that my beloved B. is very

happy and comfortable. I hear constantly from him and _his Rib_. They

are now at Seaham, and not inclined to return to Halnaby, _because_

all the world were preparing to visit them there, and at Seaham they

are free from this torment, no trifling one in B.'s estimation, as you

know. From my own observations on their epistles, and knowledge of

B.'s disposition and ways, I really hope _most_ confidently that all

will turn out very happily. It appears to me that Lady Byron _sets

about_ making him happy quite in the right way. It is true I judge at

a distance, and we generally _hope_ as we _wish_; but I assure you I

don't conclude hastily on this subject, and will own to you, what I

would not scarcely to any other person, that I had _many fears_ and

much anxiety _founded upon many causes and circumstances_ of which I

cannot _write_. Thank God! that they do not appear likely to be

realized. In short, there seems to me to be but one drawback to _all

our_ felicity, and that, alas! is the disposal of dear Newstead, which

I am afraid is irrevocably decreed. I received the fatal communication

from Lady Byron ten days ago, and will own to you that it was not only

grief, but disappointment; for I flattered myself such a sacrifice

would not be made. From my representations she had said and urged all

she could in favour of keeping it. Mr. Hobhouse the same, and I

_believe_ that he was deputed to make inquiries and researches, and I

knew that he wrote to B. suggesting the propriety and expediency of at

least _delaying_ the sale. This most excellent advice created so much

disturbance in Byron's mind that Lady B. wrote me word, "He had such a

fit of vexation he could not appear at dinner, or leave his room...."

B.'s spirits had improved at the prospect of a release from the

embarrassments which interfered so much with his comfort, and I

suppose I _ought_ to be satisfied with this.... May the future bring

peace and comfort to my dearest B.! that is always one of my first

wishes; and I am convinced it is my duty to _endeavour_ to be resigned

to the loss of this dear Abbey from our family, as well as all other

griefs which are sent by Him who knows what is good for us.... I do

not know what are B.'s plans. Lady Byron says nothing can be decided

upon till their affairs are in some degree arranged. They have been

anxious to procure a temporary habitation in my neighbourhood, which

would be convenient to him and delightful to me, if his presence is

required in Town upon this sad Newstead business. But I am sorry to

say I cannot hear of any likely to suit them; and our house is so

_very_ small, I could scarcely contrive to take them in. Lady B. is

extremely kind to me, for which I am most grateful, and to my dearest

B., for I am well aware how much I am indebted to his partiality and

affection for her good opinion. I will not give up the hope of seeing

them on their way to Town, whenever they do go, as for a few nights

they would, perhaps, tolerate the innumerable inconveniences attending

the best arrangements I could make for them.... My babes are all quite

well; Medora more beautiful than ever.... Lady B. writes me word she

never saw her father and mother so happy: that she believes the latter

would go to the bottom of the sea herself to find fish for B.'s

dinner, and that Byron owns at last that he is very happy and

comfortable at Seaham, though he had _predetermined_ to be very

miserable. In some of her letters she mentions his health not being

very good, though he seldom complains, but says that his spirits have

been improved by some daily walks she had prevailed on him to take;

and attributes much of his languor in the morning and _feverish feels_

at night to his _long fasts_, succeeded by _too_ hearty meals for any

weak and empty stomach to bear at one time, waking by night and

sleeping by day. I flatter myself her influence will prevail over

these bad habits.'

On March 18, 1815, Augusta Leigh again writes to Byron's friend, the Rev.

Francis Hodgson, from Six Mile Bottom:

'B. and Lady Byron arrived here last Sunday on their way from the

North to London, where they have taken a very good house of the Duke

of Devonshire in Piccadilly. I hope they will stay some days longer

with me, and I shall regret their departure, whenever it takes place,

as much as I now delight in their society. Byron is looking remarkably

well, and of Lady B. I scarcely know how to write, for I have a sad

trick of being struck dumb when I am most happy and pleased. The

expectations I had formed could not be _exceeded_, but at least they

are fully answered.

'I think I never saw or heard or read of a more perfect being in

mortal mould than she appears to be, and scarcely dared flatter myself

such a one would fall to the lot of my dear B. He seems quite sensible

of her value, and as happy as the present alarming state of _public_

and the tormenting uncertainties of his own private affairs will admit

of. Colonel Leigh is in the North.'

On March 31, 1815, Mrs. Leigh again writes to Hodgson:

'Byron and Lady B. left me on Tuesday for London. B. will probably

write to you immediately. He talked of it while here after I received

your last letter, which was the cause of _my_ being silent.... I am

sorry to say his nerves and spirits are very far from what I wish

them, but don't speak of this to him on any account.

'I think the uncomfortable state of his affairs is the cause; at

least, I can discern no other. He has every outward blessing this

world can bestow. I trust that the Almighty will be graciously pleased

to grant him those _inward_ feelings of peace and calm which are now

unfortunately wanting. This is a subject which I cannot dwell upon,

but in which I feel and have felt all you express. I think Lady Byron

very judiciously abstains from pressing the consideration of it upon

him at the present moment. In short, the more I see of her the more I

love and esteem her, and feel how grateful I am, and ought to be, for

the blessing of such a wife for my dear, darling Byron.'

Augusta's next letter is written from 13, Piccadilly Terrace, on April 29,

1815, about three weeks after her arrival there on a visit to the Byrons.

It also is addressed to Hodgson, and conveys the following message from

Byron:

'I am desired to add: Lady B. is ----, and that Lord Wentworth has

left all to her mother, and then to Lady Byron and children; but Byron

is, _he says_, "a very miserable dog for all that."'

At the end of June, 1815, Augusta Leigh ended her visit, and returned to

Six Mile Bottom. There seems to have been some unpleasantness between

Augusta and Lady Byron during those ten weeks.

Two months later, on September 4, 1815, Augusta Leigh writes again to

Hodgson:

'Your letter reached me at a time of much hurry and confusion, which

has been succeeded by many events of an afflicting nature, and

compelled me often to neglect those to whom I feel most pleasure in

writing.... My brother has just left me, having been here since last

Wednesday, when he arrived very unexpectedly. I never saw him _so_

well, and he is in the best spirits, and desired me to add his

congratulations to mine upon your marriage.'

On November 15, 1815, Augusta Leigh arrived at 13, Piccadilly Terrace, on

a long visit.

It cannot have been a pleasant experience for Augusta Leigh, this wretched

period which culminated in a dire catastrophe for all concerned. Lord

Lovelace tells us that, when Mrs. Leigh came to stay with them in

November, Byron 'seemed much alienated from his sister, and was entirely

occupied with women at the theatre.' And yet

'_the impressions of Mrs. Leigh's guilt had been forced into Lady

Byron's mind chiefly by incidents and conversations which occurred

while they were all under one roof._'

What may have given rise to these suspicions is not recorded--probably

Byron's mystifications, which were all taken seriously. But there is no

attempt to deny the fact that, during this painful time, Lady Byron owed

deep gratitude to Mrs. Leigh, who had faithfully striven to protect her

when ill and in need of sympathy. It was during this period that Lady

Byron wrote the following cryptic note to Byron's sister:

'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 it 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.'

On December 10, 1815, Lady Byron gave birth to a daughter. Lord Lovelace

says:

'About three weeks after Lady Byron's confinement, the aversion Byron

had already at times displayed towards her struck everyone in the

house as more formidable than ever. Augusta, George Byron, and Mrs.

Clermont, were then all staying in the house, and were very uneasy at

his unaccountable manner and talk. He assumed a more threatening

aspect towards Lady Byron. There were paroxysms of frenzy, but a still

stronger impression was created by the frequent hints he gave of some

suppressed and bitter determination. He often spoke of his conduct and

intentions about women of the theatre, particularly on January 3,

1816, when he came to Lady Byron's room and talked on that subject

with considerable violence. After that he did not go any more to see

her or the child, but three days later sent her the following note:

'"_January 6, 1816._

'"When you are disposed to leave London, it would be convenient that a

day should be fixed--and (if possible) not a very remote one for that

purpose. Of my opinion upon that subject you are sufficiently in

possession, and of the circumstances which have led to it, as also to

my plans--or, rather, intentions--for the future. When in the country

I will write to you more fully--as Lady Noel has asked you to Kirkby;

there you can be for the present, unless you prefer Seaham.

'"As the dismissal of the present establishment is of importance to

me, the sooner you can fix on the day the better--though, of course,

your convenience and inclination shall be first consulted.

'"The child will, of course, accompany you: there is a more easy and

safer carriage than the chariot (unless you prefer it) which I

mentioned before--on that you can do as you please."'

The next day Lady Byron replied in writing as follows: 'I shall obey your

wishes, and fix the earliest day that circumstances will admit for leaving

London.'

Consequently she quitted London on January 15, 1816. Soon after Lady

Byron's arrival at Kirkby, her mother drew from her some of the

circumstances of her misery. Lady Byron then told her mother that she

believed her life would be endangered by a return to her husband. She

expressed an opinion that Byron was out of his mind, although he seemed

competent to transact matters connected with his business affairs. Lady

Noel, naturally, took her daughter's part entirely, and went to London to

seek legal advice. During her stay in London, Lady Noel saw Augusta Leigh

and George Byron, who agreed with her that every endeavour should be made

to induce Byron to agree to a separation. She also consulted Sir Samuel

Romilly, Sergeant Heywood, Dr. Lushington, and Colonel Francis Doyle, an

old friend of the Milbanke family. They all agreed that a separation was

necessary. It was perhaps a very natural view to take of a marriage which

had run its short course so tempestuously, but there were no grounds other

than incompatibility of temperament upon which to base that conclusion.

'Nothing had been said at this time,' says Lord Lovelace, 'by Lady

Byron of her suspicions about Augusta, except, apparently, a few

incoherent words to Lady Noel, when telling her that Lord Byron had

threatened to take the child away from her and commit it to Augusta's

charge.'

Byron, says Lord Lovelace,[61] 'was very changeable at this time,

sometimes speaking kindly of his wife--though never appearing to wish her

to return--and the next hour he would say that the sooner Lady Byron's

friends arranged a separation, the better.'

This statement is a fair example of the manner in which Lord Lovelace

handles his facts and documents. Mr. Hobhouse, who was in a position to

know the truth, has recently shown that Byron was very anxious for his

wife's return, was indeed prepared to make great sacrifices to attain that

object, and resolutely opposed the wishes of those persons who tried to

arrange a legal separation. It was not until Lady Byron herself reminded

him of a promise which he had once made to her that, 'when convinced her

conduct had not been influenced by others, he should not oppose her

wishes,' that he consented to sign the deed of separation. He had done

enough to show that he was not afraid of any exposure which might have

affected his honour, and was willing, if necessary, to go into a court of

law, but he could not resist the petition of his wife.[62] It is also

extremely improbable that Byron should, 'towards the end of January, have

spoken of proposing a separation himself,' in view of the letters which he

wrote to his wife on February 5, and February 8 following.[63]

On February 2 Sir Ralph Noel, under legal advice, wrote a stiff letter

requiring a separation. Byron at that time positively refused to accept

these terms. The whole affair then became publicly known. Every kind of

report was spread about him, and especially the scandal about Augusta was

noised abroad by Lady Caroline Lamb and Mr. Brougham. There can be no

doubt whatever that Byron heard of this report, and paid very little

attention to it. He found out then, or soon afterwards, how the scandal

arose.

Lady Byron's relations were bent on arranging an amicable separation.

Should Byron persist in his refusal, it was intended to institute a suit

in the Ecclesiastical Court to obtain a divorce on the plea of adultery

and cruelty. There is reason to believe that a charge of adultery could

_not_ have been substantiated at that time.

Meanwhile, Lady Byron, who had lately acquired some documents, which were

unknown to her when she left her husband on January 15,[64] came to London

on February 22, and had a long private conversation with Dr. Lushington.

She then showed him two packets of letters which Mrs. Clermont had

abstracted from Byron's writing-desk. Lady Byron received those letters

some time between February 14 and 22, 1816. One packet contained missives

from a married lady, with whom Byron had been intimate previous to his

marriage. It appears that Lady Byron--whose notions of the ordinary code

of honour were peculiar--sent those letters to that lady's husband, who,

like a sensible man, threw them into the fire. Of the other packet we

cannot speak so positively. It probably comprised letters from Augusta

Leigh, referring to the child Medora.[65] Such expressions as 'our child'

or 'your child' would have fallen quite naturally from her pen under the

circumstances. It is easy to imagine the effect of some such words upon

the suspicious mind of Lady Byron. By Mrs. Clermont's masterful stroke of

treachery, strong presumptive evidence was thus brought against Augusta

Leigh. The letters undoubtedly convinced Dr. Lushington that incest had

taken place, and he warned Lady Byron against any personal intercourse

with Mrs. Leigh. He at the same time advised her to keep her lips closed

until Augusta had of her own free will confessed; and pointed out to Lady

Byron that, 'while proofs and impressions were such as left no doubt on

_her_ mind, _they were decidedly not such as could have been brought

forward to establish a charge of incest, in the event of Lady Byron being

challenged to bring forward the grounds of her imputation_.'[66]

From that moment all Lady Byron's wiles were employed to extract a

confession from Augusta Leigh, which would have gone far to justify Lady

Byron's conduct in leaving her husband. Soon after this momentous

interview with Dr. Lushington, an ugly rumour was spread about town

affecting Mrs. Leigh's character.

Lord Lovelace says:

'When Augusta's friends vehemently and indignantly resented such a

calumny, they were met with the argument that _Lady Byron's refusal to

assign a reason for her separation confirmed the report_, and that no

one but Augusta could deny it with any effect.'

This, by the nature of her agreement with Byron, was impossible, and Mrs.

Clermont's treachery held her in a vice.

During January and February, 1816, Lady Byron, who strongly suspected Mrs.

Leigh's conduct to have been disloyal to herself, wrote the most

affectionate letters to that lady.

'KIRKBY MALLORY.

'MY DEAREST A.,

'It is my great comfort that you are in Piccadilly.'

'KIRKBY MALLORY,

'_January 23, 1816_.

'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.'

'_January 25, 1816._

'MY DEAREST AUGUSTA,

'Shall I still be your sister? I must resign my rights to be so

considered; but I don't think that will make any difference in the

kindness I have so uniformly experienced from you.'

'KIRKBY MALLORY,

'_February 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 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.'

'_February 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.'

'KIRKBY MALLORY,

'_February 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.'

It is only fair to remind the reader that, when these letters were

written, Lady Byron had not consulted Dr. Lushington. We are inclined to

think that the last letter was written on the day when she received Mrs.

Clermont's 'proofs.' Meanwhile, Augusta, unconscious that an avalanche of

scandal threatened to sweep her reputation into an abyss, was catching at

every straw that might avert a catastrophe. Her thoughts turned to

Hodgson, whose noble character, sound common-sense, and affection for

Byron, were undoubted. It was possible, she thought, that the ruin and

destruction which she dreaded for her brother might be averted through the

advice and assistance of an honourable man of the world. In that wild hope

the following letters were written:

'13, PICCADILLY TERRACE,

'_Wednesday, February 7, 1816_.

'DEAR MR. HODGSON,

'Can you by _any means_ contrive to come up to Town? Were it only for

_a day_, it might be of the most essential service to a friend I know

you love and value. There is too much fear of a separation between him

and his wife. No time is to be lost, but even if you are _too late_ to

prevent that happening _decidedly_, yet it would be the greatest

comfort and relief to me to confide other circumstances to you, and

consult you; and so if _possible_ oblige me, if only for _twenty-four_

hours. Say not _a word_ of my summons, but attribute your coming, if

you come, to business of your own or chance. Excuse brevity; I am so

perfectly wretched I can only say,

'Ever yours most truly,

'AUGUSTA LEIGH.

'It is probable I may be obliged to go home next week. If my scheme

appears wild, pray attribute it to the state of mind I am in. Alas! I

see only _ruin_ and _destruction_ in _every_ shape to one most dear to

me.'

Hodgson at once responded to this appeal by taking the first stage-coach

to London, where the next letter was addressed to him at his lodgings near

Piccadilly:

'How very good of you, dear Mr. Hodgson! I intend showing the letter

to B., as I _think_ he will jump at seeing you just now, but I _must_

see you first; and how? I am now going to Mr. Hanson's from B. I'm

afraid of your meeting people here who _do no good_, and would

counteract yours; but will you call about two, or after that, and ask

for _me_ first? I shall be home, I hope, and _must_ see you. If I'm

out ask for Capt. B.

'Yours sincerely,

'A. L.'

'_Friday evening, 9 o'clock._

'DEAR MR. HODGSON,

'I've been unable to write to you till this moment. Mr. H.[67] stayed

till a late hour, and is now here again. B. dined with me, and after I

left the room I sent your note in, thinking him in better spirits and

more free from irritations. He has only just mentioned it to me: "Oh,

by-the-by, I've had a note from H., Augusta, whom you must write to,

and say I'm so full of domestic calamities that I can't see anybody."

Still, I think he _will_ see you if he hears you are here, or that

even it would be better, if the worst came to the worst, to let the

servant announce you and walk in. Can you call here about eleven

to-morrow morning, when he will not be up, or scarcely awake, and

Capt. B., you, and I, can hold a council on what is best to be done?

The fact is, he is now _afraid_ of everybody who would tell him the

truth. It is a most dreadful situation, dear Mr. H.! The worst is,

that _if_ you said you have done so-and-so, etc., he would deny it;

and I see he is afraid of _your despair_, as he terms it, when you

hear of his situation, and, in short, of your telling him the truth.

He can only bear to see those who flatter him and encourage him to all

that is wrong. I've not mentioned having seen you, because I wish him

to suppose your opinions unprejudiced. You _must_ see him; and pray

see me and George B. to-morrow morning, when we will consult upon the

best means. You are the only comfort I've had this long time. I'm

quite of your opinion on all that is to be feared.

'Ever yours truly,

'A. L.'

'PICCADILLY TERRACE.

'DEAR MR. H.,

'About three you will be sure of finding me, if not sooner. I've sent

in your letter; he said in return I was to do what I pleased about it.

I _think_ and _hope_ he will find comfort in seeing you.

'Yours truly,

'A. L.'

'_Saturday._

'DEAR MR. H.,

'B. will see you. I saw him open your note, and said I had given his

message this morning, when I had seen you and talked generally on the

subject of his present situation, of which you had before heard. He

replied, "Oh, then, tell him I will see him, certainly; my reason for

_not_ was the fear of distressing him." You had better call towards

three, and wait if he is not yet out of his room. Mr. Hanson has sent

for me in consequence (probably) of your interview. I'm going to him

about three with Capt. B., but have said nothing to B. of this.

'Ever yours,

'A. L.'

Immediately after the interview, which took place on the day after the

last note was written, Hodgson, feeling that nothing could be lost and

that much might be gained by judicious remonstrance, resolved to hazard an

appeal to Lady Byron's feelings--with what success will be seen from her

ladyship's reply. It is impossible to over-estimate the combined tact and

zeal displayed by Hodgson in this most delicate and difficult matter.

'Whether I am outstepping the bounds of prudence in this address to

your ladyship I cannot feel assured; and yet there is so much at stake

in a quarter so loved and valuable that I cannot forbear running the

risk, and making one effort more to plead a cause which your

ladyship's own heart must plead with a power so superior to all other

voices. If, then, a word that is here said only adds to the pain of

this unhappy conflict between affection and views of duty, without

lending any weight of reason to the object it seeks, I would earnestly

implore that it may be forgiven; and, above all, the interference

itself, which nothing but its obvious motive and the present awful

circumstance could in any way justify.

'After a long and most confidential conversation with my friend (whom

I have known thoroughly, I believe, for many trying years), I am

convinced that the deep and rooted feeling in his heart is regret and

sorrow for the occurrences which have so deeply wounded you; and the

most unmixed admiration of your conduct in all its particulars, and

the warmest affection. But may I be allowed to state to Lady Byron

that Lord B., after his general acknowledgment of having frequently

been very wrong, and, from various causes, in a painful state of

irritation, yet declares himself ignorant of the specific things which

have given the principal offence, and that he wishes to hear of them;

that he may, if extenuation or atonement be possible, endeavour to

make some reply; or, at all events, may understand the fulness of

those reasons which have now, and as unexpectedly as afflictingly,

driven your ladyship to the step you have taken?

'It would be waste of words and idle presumption for me, however your

ladyship's goodness might be led to excuse it, to observe how very

extreme, how decidedly irreconcilable, such a case should be, before

the last measure is resorted to. But it may not be quite so improper

to urge, from my deep conviction of their truth and importance, the

following reflections. I entreat your ladyship's indulgence to them.

What can be the consequence, to a man so peculiarly constituted, of

such an event? If I may give vent to my fear, my thorough certainty,

nothing short of absolute and utter destruction. I turn from the idea;

but _no_ being except your ladyship can prevent this. _None_, I am

thoroughly convinced, ever could have done so, notwithstanding the

unhappy appearances to the contrary. Whatever, then, may be against

it, whatever restraining remembrances or anticipations, to a person

who was not already qualified by sad experience to teach this very

truth, I would say that there _is_ a claim paramount to all

others--that of attempting to save the human beings nearest and

dearest to us from the most comprehensive ruin that can be suffered by

them, at the expense of any suffering to ourselves.

'If I have not gone too far, I would add that so suddenly and at once

to shut every avenue to returning comfort must, when looked back upon,

appear a strong measure; and, if it proceeds (pray pardon the

suggestion) from the unfortunate notion of the very person to whom my

friend now looks for consolation being unable to administer it, that

notion I would combat with all the energy of conviction; and assert,

that whatever unguarded and unjustifiable words, and even actions, may

have inculcated this idea, it is the very rock on which the peace of

both would, as unnecessarily as wretchedly, be sacrificed. But God

Almighty forbid that there should be any sacrifice. Be all that is

right called out into action, all that is wrong suppressed (and by

your only instrumentality, Lady Byron, as by yours only it can be) in

my dear friend. May you both yet be what God intended you for: the

support, the watchful correction, and improvement, of each other! Of

yourself, Lord B. from his heart declares that he would wish nothing

altered--nothing but that sudden, surely sudden, determination which

must _for ever_ destroy one of you, and perhaps even both. God bless

both!

'I am, with deep regard,

'Your ladyship's faithful servant,

'FRANCIS HODGSON.'

Lady Byron's answer was as follows:

'KIRKBY,

'_February 15, 1816_.

'DEAR SIR,

'I feel most sensibly the kindness of a remonstrance which equally

proves your friendship for Lord Byron and consideration for me. I have

declined all discussion of this subject with others, but my knowledge

of your principles induces me to justify my own; and yet I would

forbear to accuse as much as possible.

'I married Lord B. determined to endure everything whilst there was

_any_ chance of my contributing to his welfare. I remained with him

under trials of the severest nature. In leaving him, which, however, I

can scarcely call a _voluntary_ measure, I probably saved him from the

bitterest remorse. I may give you a general idea of what I have

experienced by saying that he married me with the deepest

determination of Revenge, avowed on the day of my marriage, and

executed ever since with systematic and increasing cruelty, which no

affection could change.... My security depended on the total

abandonment of every moral and religious principle, against which

(though I trust they were never obtruded) his hatred and endeavours

were uniformly directed.... The circumstances, which are of too

convincing a nature, shall not be generally known whilst Lord B.

allows me to spare him. It is not unkindness that can always change

affection.

'With you I may consider this subject in a less worldly point of view.

Is the present injury to his reputation to be put in competition with

the danger of unchecked success to this wicked pride? and may not his

actual sufferings (in which, be assured, that affection for me has

very little share) expiate a future account? I know him too well to

dread the fatal event which he so often mysteriously threatens. I have

acquired my knowledge of him bitterly indeed, and it was long before I

learned to mistrust the apparent candour by which he deceives all but

himself. He _does_ know--too well--what he affects to inquire. You

reason with me as I have reasoned with myself, and I therefore derive

from your letter an additional and melancholy confidence in the

rectitude of this determination, which has been deliberated on the

grounds that you would approve. It was not suggested, and has not been

enforced, by others; though it is sanctioned by my parents.

'You will continue Lord Byron's friend, and the time may yet come when

he will receive from that friendship such benefits as he now rejects.

I will even indulge the consolatory thought that the remembrance of

me, when time has softened the irritation created by my presence, may

contribute to the same end. May I hope that you will still retain any

value for the regard with which I am,

'Your most obliged and faithful servant,

'A. I. BYRON.'

'I must add that Lord Byron had been fully, earnestly, and

affectionately warned of the unhappy consequences of his conduct.'

It is most unfortunate that the second letter which Hodgson wrote on this

most distressing occasion is lost, but some clue to its contents may be

gathered from Lady Byron's reply:

'_February 24, 1816._

'DEAR SIR,

'I have received your second letter. First let me thank you for the

charity with which you consider my motives; and now of the principal

subject.

'I eagerly adopted the belief on insanity as a consolation; and though

such malady has been found insufficient to prevent his responsibility

with man, I will still trust that it may latently exist, so as to

acquit him towards God. This no human being can judge. It certainly

does not destroy the powers of self-control, or impair the knowledge

of moral good and evil. Considering the case upon the supposition of

derangement, you may have heard, what every medical adviser would

confirm, that it is in the nature of such malady to reverse the

affections, and to make those who would naturally be dearest, the

greatest objects of aversion, the most exposed to acts of violence,

and the least capable of alleviating the malady. Upon such grounds my

absence from Lord B. was medically advised before I left Town. But the

advisers had not then seen him, and since Mr. Le Mann has had

opportunities of personal observation, it has been found that the

supposed physical causes do not exist so as to render him not an

accountable agent.

'I believe the nature of Lord B.'s mind to be most benevolent. But

there may have been circumstances (I would hope the _consequences_,

not the _causes_, of mental disorder) which would render an original

tenderness of conscience the motive of desperation--even of

guilt--when self-esteem had been forfeited _too far_. No _external_

motive can be so strong. Goodness of heart--when there are impetuous

passions and no principles--is a frail security.

'Every possible means have been employed to effect a private and

amicable arrangement; and I would sacrifice such advantages in terms

as, I believe, the law would insure to me, to avoid this dreadful

necessity. Yet I must have some _security_, and Lord B. refuses to

afford any. If you could persuade him to the agreement, you would save

me from what I most deprecate. I have now applied to Lord Holland for

that end.

'If you wish to answer--and I shall always be happy to hear from

you--I must request you to enclose your letter to my father, Sir Ralph

Noel, Mivart's Hotel, Lower Brook Street, London, as I am not sure

where I may be at that time. My considerations of duty are of a very

complicated nature; for my duty as a mother seems to point out the

same conduct as I pursue upon other principles that I have partly

explained.

'I must observe upon one passage of your letter that I _had_ (_sic_)

expectations of personal violence, though I was too miserable to have

_feelings_ of fear, and those expectations would now be still

stronger.

'In regard to any change which the future state of Lord B.'s mind

might justify in my intentions, an amicable arrangement would not

destroy the opening for reconciliation. Pray endeavour to promote the

dispositions to such an arrangement; there is every reason to desire

it.

'Yours very truly,

'A. I. BYRON.'

It is worthy of note that Lady Byron, _two days after her interview with

Lushington_, here states that, in the event of 'an amicable arrangement'

(an amicable separation) being arrived at, it would not destroy the

opening for reconciliation. This is an extraordinary statement, because,

as we have seen, Dr. Lushington absolutely declined to be a party to any

such step. On March 14 Lady Byron signed a declaration, giving her reasons

for the separation, as will be seen presently.

On March 16 Augusta Leigh returned to her apartments in St. James's

Palace, and on the following day Byron consented to a separation from his

wife. On April 8 Lady Jersey gave a party in honour of Byron, and to show

her sympathy for him in his matrimonial troubles. Both Byron and Augusta

were present, but it was a cold and spiritless affair, and nothing came of

this attempt to stem the tide of prejudice.

On April 14 Augusta parted for ever from her brother, and retired into the

country, her health broken down by the worry and anxiety of the past three

months. On April 21 and 22, 1816, the deed of separation was signed by

both Lord and Lady Byron. On April 23 Byron left London, and travelled to

Dover accompanied by his friends Hobhouse and Scrope-Davies. On the 25th

he embarked for Ostend, unable to face the consequences of his quarrel

with his wife.

'To his susceptible temperament and generous feelings,' says his

schoolfellow Harness, 'the reproach of having ill-used a woman must

have been poignant in the extreme. It was repulsive to his chivalrous

character as a gentleman; it belied all he had written of the devoted

fervour of his attachments; and rather than meet the frowns and sneers

which awaited him in the world, as many a less sensitive man might

have done, he turned his back on them and fled.'

CHAPTER III

The publication of 'Astarte' has had one good result; it has placed beyond

question the precise nature of Lady Byron's complaints against her

husband. On March 14, 1816, Lady Byron was induced by Dr. Lushington to

draw up and sign a statement which would be useful if her conduct should

at any future time be criticized.

We place the entire document before the reader, just as it appears in Lord

Lovelace's book:

'STATEMENT.--A. L.

'In case of my death to be given to Colonel Doyle.

A. I. BYRON,

Thursday, March 14, 1816.'

'During the year that Lady Byron lived under the same roof with Lord

B. certain circumstances occurred, and some intimations were made,

which excited a suspicion in Lady B.'s mind that an improper

connection had at one time, and might even still, subsist between Lord

B. and Mrs. L----.[68] The causes, however, of this suspicion did not

amount to proof, and Lady Byron did not consider herself justified in

acting upon these suspicions by immediately quitting Lord B.'s house,

for the following reasons:

'First and principally, because the causes of suspicion, though they

made a strong impression upon her mind, did not amount to positive

proof, and Lady B. considered, that whilst a possibility of innocence

existed, every principle of duty and humanity forbad her to act as if

Mrs. Leigh was actually guilty, more especially as any intimation of

so heinous a crime, even if not distinctly proved, must have seriously

affected Mrs. L.'s character and happiness.

'Secondly, Lady B. had it not in her power to pursue a middle course;

it was utterly impossible for her to remove Mrs. L. from the society

and roof of Lord B. except by a direct accusation.

'Thirdly, because Mrs. L. had from her first acquaintance with Lady B.

always manifested towards her the utmost kindness and attention,

endeavouring as far as laid in her power to mitigate the violence and

cruelty of Lord B.

'Fourthly, because Mrs. L. at times exhibited signs of a deep remorse;

at least so Lady B. interpreted them to be, though she does not mean

to aver that the feelings Mrs. L. then showed were signs of remorse

for the commission of the crime alluded to, or any other of so dark a

description.

'And, lastly, because Lady B. conceived it possible that the crime, if

committed, might not only be deeply repented of, but never have been

perpetrated since her marriage with Lord B.

'It was from these motives, and strongly inclining to a charitable

interpretation of all that passed, that Lady B. never during her

living with Lord B. intimated a suspicion of this nature. Since Lady

B.'s separation from Lord B. the report has become current in the

world of such a connection having subsisted. This report was not

spread nor sanctioned by Lady B. Mrs. L.'s character has, however,

been to some extent affected thereby. Lady B. cannot divest her mind

of the impressions before stated; but anxious to avoid all possibility

of doing injury to Mrs. L., and not by any conduct of her own to throw

any suspicion upon Mrs. L., and it being intimated that Mrs. L.'s

character can never be so effectually preserved as by a renewal of

intercourse with Lady B., she does for the motives and reasons before

mentioned consent to renew that intercourse.

'Now, this statement is made in order to justify Lady B. in the line

of conduct she has now determined to adopt, and in order to prevent

all misconstruction of her motives in case Mrs. L. should be proved

hereafter to be guilty; and, if any circumstances should compel or

render it necessary for Lady B. to prefer the charge, in order that

Lady B. may be at full liberty so to do without being prejudiced by

her present conduct.

'It is to be observed that this paper does not contain nor pretends to

contain any of the grounds which gave rise to the suspicion which has

existed and still continues to exist in Lady B.'s mind.

'We whose names are hereunto subscribed are of opinion, that under all

the circumstances above stated, and also from our knowledge of what

has passed respecting the conduct of all parties mentioned, that the

line now adopted by Lady B. is strictly right and honourable, as well

as just towards Mrs. L., and Lady B. ought not, whatever may hereafter

occur, to be prejudiced thereby.

'ROBT. JOHN WILMOT.

F. H. DOYLE.

STEPHEN LUSHINGTON.

(_Signed by each._)

'LONDON,

_March 14, 1816_.'

One month later, on April 14, Byron writes a letter to his wife, who was

staying at an hotel in London, in which he says that he has just parted

from Augusta:

'Almost the last being you had left me to part with, and the only

unshattered tie of my existence.... If any accident occurs to me--be

kind to _her_,--if she is then nothing--to her children. Some time ago

I informed you that, with the knowledge that any child of ours was

already provided for by other and better means, I had made my will in

favour of her and her children--as prior to my marriage; this was not

done in prejudice to you, for we had not then differed--and even this

is useless during your life by the settlements. I say, therefore, be

kind to her and hers, for never has she acted or spoken otherwise

towards you. She has ever been your friend; this may seem valueless

to one who has now so many. Be kind to her, however, and recollect

that, though it may be an advantage to you to have lost your husband,

it is sorrow to her to have the waters now, or the earth hereafter,

between her and her brother. She is gone. I need hardly add that of

this request she knows nothing.'

There are two points in this letter which deserve notice. In the first

place Byron intimates that he has made a will in favour of Augusta and

_her children, as prior to his marriage_. This would insure that Medora

would be amply provided for. In addition to this, Byron had already given

his sister £3,000 in May, 1814, within one month of Medora's birth. In

reply to her scruples, Byron writes: 'Consider the children, and my

Georgina in particular--in short, I need say no more.'

In the second place, we appeal to any unprejudiced person whether it is

likely that Byron would have made to his wife an especial appeal on behalf

of Augusta, if he had not had a clear conscience as to his relations with

her? That he had a clear conscience cannot be doubted, and Augusta never

hesitated in private intercourse with Lady Byron to speak on that painful

subject. To quote Lord Lovelace:

'On all these occasions, one subject, uppermost in the thoughts of

both, had been virtually ignored, except that Augusta had had the

audacity to name the reports about herself "with the pride of

innocence," as it is called.'

Augusta tried to make Lady Byron speak out, and say that she did not

believe the reports against her, but in vain. Lady Byron, having once

conceived a notion of Augusta's guilt, would not change her opinion, and

was far too honest to dissemble. She found refuge in flight, not daring

to show to Augusta the letters which had been abstracted from Byron's desk

by Mrs. Clermont. In vain Mrs. Villiers and Wilmot urged Lady Byron to

avow to Augusta the information of which they were in possession. Lady

Byron would not produce her so-called 'proofs,' and said that 'she would

experience pain in throwing off a person she had loved, and from whom she

had received kindness.'

But Lady Byron, conscious of her false position, had recourse to her pen,

and wrote a letter to Augusta telling her all that she knew. We are told

that Augusta did not attempt to deny the accusation, and admitted

everything in her letters of June, July, and August, 1816.

Lord Lovelace coolly says:

'It is unnecessary to produce these letters here, as their contents

are confirmed and made sufficiently clear by the correspondence of

1819, given in another chapter.'

We are further told in a footnote (p. 155) that the late Sir Leslie

Stephen said it made him quite uncomfortable to read Mrs. Leigh's letters

of humiliation dated 1816. One would have supposed, after such a flourish

of trumpets, that Lord Lovelace would have produced those letters! He does

nothing of the kind, and expects posterity to accept his _ex-parte_

statements without reserve. Lord Lovelace bids us to believe that it was

'from the best and kindest motives, and long habit of silence, that Dr.

Lushington's influence was exerted in 1869, to prevent, or at least

postpone, revelation.' The fact is, of course, he kept silence because he

well knew that there was nothing in those letters (1813 and 1814) to fix

guilt upon Mrs. Leigh. Lady Byron herself has told us that 'the causes of

her suspicion _did not amount to proof_, and Lady Byron did not consider

herself justified in acting upon these suspicions.' She further states

that '_the possibility of innocence existed_,' but that

'Mrs. Leigh, at times, exhibited signs of deep remorse; _at least so

Lady Byron interpreted them to be_, though she does not mean to aver

that the feelings Mrs. Leigh then showed were signs of remorse for the

commission of the crime alluded to, or any other of so dark a

description.'

But Lady Byron, under Lushington's skilful hand, protects herself against

the possibility of legal proceedings for defamation of character by these

words:

'This paper does not contain, nor pretend to contain, any of the

grounds which give rise _to the suspicion_ which has existed, and

still continues to exist, in Lady Byron's mind. Her statement is made

in order to justify Lady Byron ... _in case Mrs. Leigh should be

proved hereafter to be guilty_.'

As this statement was made after Lady Byron's interview with Dr.

Lushington (when he decided to take no part in any attempt at

reconciliation), it is perfectly clear that the alleged incriminating

letters were not considered as conclusive evidence against Mrs. Leigh.

Although they were sufficient to detach Lushington from the party of

reconciliation, it was not considered wise to produce them as evidence in

1869, at a time when a strong revulsion of feeling had set in against Lady

Byron.

The clear legal brain of Sir Alexander Cockburn, trained to appraise

evidence, saw through the flimsy pretext which had deceived an equally

great lawyer. Time instructs us, and much has come to light in this

so-called 'Byron mystery,' since Lady Byron beguiled Lushington. Among

other things, we now know, on Lord Lovelace's authority, that Lady Byron

was afraid that her child would be taken from her by Byron, and placed

under the care of Mrs. Leigh. We also know, on the authority of

Hobhouse,[69] that Lady Byron's representatives distinctly disavowed, on

Lady Byron's behalf, having spread any rumours injurious to Lord Byron's

character in that respect, and also stated that a charge of incest would

not have been made part of her allegations if she had come into court.

This disavowal was signed by Lady Byron herself, and was witnessed by Mr.

Wilmot. It is certain that Lord Byron would have gone into a court of law

to meet that charge, and that he refused to agree to a separation until

that assurance had been given. This grave charge was still in abeyance in

1816; it was not safe to speak of it until after Byron's death, and then

only under the seal of secrecy.

'Upon one contingency only,' wrote Sir Francis Doyle in 1830--'namely,

the taking from Lady Byron of her child, and placing her under the

care of Mrs. Leigh--would the disclosure have been made of Lady

Byron's grounds for _suspecting_ Mrs. Leigh's guilt.'

It was evident that Lady Byron was clutching at straws to save her child

from Mrs. Leigh, and to prevent this it was essential to prove Mrs.

Leigh's unworthiness. In her maternal anxiety she stuck at nothing, and

for a time she triumphed. Her private correspondence was drenched with the

theme that had impressed Lushington so strongly.

A fortnight after signing her 'statement,' Lady Byron writes to Mrs.

George Lamb, in reference to Mrs. Leigh:

'I am glad that you think of _her_ with the feelings of pity which

prevail in my mind, and surely if in _mine_ there must be some cause

for them. I never was, nor ever can be, so _mercilessly_ virtuous as

to admit _no_ excuse for even the worst of errors.'

Such letters go perilously near that charge which Lady Byron's

representatives had repudiated in the presence of Hobhouse. But Lady Byron

was desperate, and her whole case depended on a general belief in that

foul accusation. What could not be done openly could be done secretly, and

she poisoned the air to save her child.

Colonel Doyle, who seems to have been one of the few on Lady Byron's side

who kept his head, wrote to her on July 9, 1816:

'I see the possibility of a contingency under which the fullest

explanation of the motives and grounds of your conduct may be

necessary; I therefore implore of you to suffer no delicacy to

interfere with your endeavouring to obtain the fullest _admission_ of

the fact. If you obtain an acknowledgment of the facts and that your

motives be, as you seem to think, properly appreciated, I think on the

whole we shall have reason to rejoice that you have acted as you have

done, but I shall be very anxious to have a more detailed knowledge of

what has passed, and particularly of the state in which you leave it.

The step you have taken was attended with great risk, and I could not,

contemplating the danger to which it might have exposed you, have

originally advised it.

'If, however, your correspondence has produced an acknowledgment of

the fact even previous to your marriage, I shall be most happy that it

has taken place.'

Colonel Doyle, by no means easy in his own mind, again writes to Lady

Byron on July 18, 1816:

'I must recommend you to act as if a time might possibly arise when it

would be necessary for you to justify yourself, though nothing short

of an absolute necessity so imperative as to be irresistible could

ever authorize your advertence to your present communications. Still,

I cannot dismiss from my mind the experience we have had, nor so far

forget the very serious embarrassment we were under from the effects

of your too confiding disposition, as not to implore you to bear in

mind the importance of securing yourself from eventual danger.

'This is my first object, and if that be attained, I shall approve and

applaud all the kindness you can show [to Mrs. Leigh].'

Here, then, we have a picture of the state of affairs limned by a man who

was an accomplice of Lady Byron's, and who was fully awake to the danger

of their position in the event of Byron turning round upon them. The

husband might insist upon Lady Byron explaining the grounds of her

conduct. In order to make their position secure, it would be, above all

things, necessary to obtain a full confession from Mrs. Leigh of her

criminal intercourse with Byron. With this end in view, Lady Byron opened

a correspondence with Augusta Leigh, and tried to inveigle her into making

an admission of her guilt. It was not an easy matter to open the subject,

but Lady Byron was not abashed, and, under cover of sundry acts of

kindness, tried hard to gain her point. In this game of foils Augusta

showed remarkable skill, and seems to have eventually fooled Lady Byron to

the top of her bent. No wonder, then, that Mrs. Leigh, accused of an

abominable crime by her sister-in-law, should have written to a friend:

'None can know _how much_ I have suffered from this unhappy

business--and, indeed, I have never known a moment's peace, and begin

to despair for the future.'

Lady Byron and her friends plied Mrs. Leigh with questions, hoping to gain

a confession which would justify their conduct. Lady Noel strongly and

repeatedly warned Lady Byron against Mrs. Leigh, who, like a wounded

animal, was dangerous. 'Take care of Augusta,' she wrote September 7,

1816. 'If I know anything of human nature, she _does_ and must _hate

you_.'

As a matter of fact, Augusta, while pretending contrition for imaginary

sins, revenged herself upon Lady Byron by heightening her jealousy, and

encouraging her in the belief that Byron had not only been her lover, but

was still appealing to her from abroad. She even went so far as to pretend

that she was going to join him, which nearly frightened Mrs. Villiers out

of her wits. They lied to Augusta profusely, these immaculate people, and

had the meanness to tell her that Byron had betrayed her in writing to two

or three women. They probably wished to cause a breach between brother and

sister, but Augusta, who pretended to be alarmed by this intelligence,

laughed in her sleeve. She knew the truth, and saw through these

manoeuvres; it was part of her plan to keep Lady Byron on a false scent.

'I cannot believe my brother to have been so dishonourable,' was her meek

rejoinder, meaning, of course, that it would have been dishonourable for

Byron to have defamed one who, having taken his child under her

protection, had saved the honour of the woman whom he loved. But Lady

Byron regarded Mrs. Leigh's answer as an admission of guilt, and trumpeted

the news to all her friends. Lord Lovelace tells us that Augusta, on

August 5, 1816, wrote to Lady Byron a letter, in which she asserted most

solemnly that Byron had not been her friend, and that, though there were

difficulties in writing to him, she was determined never to see him again

in the way she had done. It is remarkable that the letter to which Lord

Lovelace refers is not given in 'Astarte,' where one would naturally

expect to find it. In order to gauge the impression made upon Augusta's

mind, the reader will do well to consult the letters which she wrote a

little later to the Rev. Francis Hodgson, in which she speaks of Byron

with the greatest affection.

'And now for our old subject, dear B. I wonder whether you have heard

from him? The last to me was from Geneva, sending me a short but most

interesting journal of an excursion to the Bernese Alps. He speaks of

his health as _very_ good, but, alas! his spirits appear wofully the

contrary. I believe, however, that he does not write in that strain to

others. Sometimes I venture to indulge a hope that what I wish most

earnestly for him may be working its way in his mind. Heaven grant

it!'

In another letter to Hodgson she speaks of Ada, and says:

'The bulletins of the poor child's health, by Byron's desire, pass

through me, and I'm very sorry for it, and that I ever had any concern

in this most wretched business. I can't, however, explain all my

reasons at this distance, and must console myself by the consciousness

of having done my duty, and, to the best of my judgment, all I could

for the happiness of _both_.'

At a time when Byron was accused of having 'betrayed his sister in writing

to two or three women,' he was writing that well-known stanza in 'Childe

Harold':

'But there was one soft breast, as hath been said,

Which unto his was bound by stronger ties

Than the Church links withal; and though unwed,

Yet it was pure--and, far above disguise,

Had stood the test of mortal enmities

Still undivided, and cemented more

By peril, dreaded most in female eyes;

But this was firm, and from a foreign shore

Well to that heart might his these absent greetings pour.'

And it was in July, 1816, that Augusta's loyalty to him and to Mary

Chaworth moved Byron to write his celebrated 'Stanzas to Augusta':

'_Though thy soul with my grief was acquainted_,

It shrunk not to share it with me,

And the Love which my spirit hath painted

It never hath found but in _Thee_.'

'Though human, thou didst not _betray_ me;

Though tempted, thou never couldst shake.'

Lord Lovelace claims to have found the key of the Byron mystery in

'Manfred,' and employs it as a damning proof against Augusta, with what

justice we have seen.

At the time when 'Manfred' was begun Mary Chaworth was temporarily insane.

The anxiety which she had undergone at the time of Byron's matrimonial

quarrels, when she feared that a public inquiry might disclose her own

secret, affected her health. She bore up bravely until after Byron's

departure from England; then, the strain relieved, her mind gave way, and

she lived for some time in London, under the care of a doctor. Her illness

was kept as secret as possible, but Augusta, who was constantly at her

side, informed Byron of her condition.

CHAPTER IV

There has of late years been a disposition on the part of Byron's

biographers unduly to disparage Moore's 'Life of Byron.' Tastes have

changed, and Moore's patronizing style of reference to 'his noble friend

the noble poet' does not appeal to the democratic sentiment now

prevailing. But, after allowance has been made for Moore's manner, it

cannot be denied that, in consequence of his personal intimacy with Byron,

his work must always have a peculiar value and authority. There are, for

instance, portions of Moore's 'Life' which are indispensable to those who

seek to fathom the depths of Byron's mind. Moore says that Byron was born

with strong affections and ardent passions, and that his life was

'one continued struggle between that instinct of genius, which was for

ever drawing him back into the lonely laboratory of self, and those

impulses of passion, ambition, and vanity, which again hurried him off

into the crowd, and entangled him in its interests.'

Moore assures us that most of Byron's so-called love-affairs were as

transitory as the imaginings that gave them birth.

'It may be questioned,' says Moore, 'whether his heart had ever much

share in such passions. Actual objects there were, in but too great

number, who, as long as the illusion continued, kindled up his

thoughts and were the themes of his song. But they were little more

than mere dreams of the hour. _There was but one love that lived

unquenched through all_'--Byron's love for Mary Chaworth.

Every other attachment faded away, but that endured to the end of his

stormy life.

In speaking of Byron's affection for his sister, Moore, who knew all that

had been said against Augusta Leigh and Byron, and had read the 'Memoirs,'

remarked:

'In a mind sensitive and versatile as [Byron's], long habits of family

intercourse might have estranged, or at least dulled, his natural

affection for his sister; but their separation during youth left this

feeling fresh and untired. That he was himself fully aware of this

appears from a passage in one of his letters: "My sister is in Town,

which is a great comfort; for, never having been much together, we are

naturally more attached to each other." His very inexperience in such

ties made the smile of a sister no less a novelty than a charm to him;

and before the first gloss of this newly awakened sentiment had time

to wear off, they were again separated, and for ever.'

When the parting came it was bitter indeed, for she was, says Moore,

'almost the only person from whom he then parted with regret. Those

beautiful and tender verses, "Though the day of my destiny's over,"

were now his parting tribute to her who, through all this bitter

trial, had been his sole consolation.'

Enough has been said to show what kind of woman Augusta was, and it is

difficult to understand by what process of reasoning Lord Lovelace

persuaded himself that she could have been guilty of the atrocious crime

which he lays to her charge. We entirely concur with Mrs. Villiers, when

she wrote to Augusta Leigh (in September, 1816): 'I consider you the

victim to the most infernal plot that has ever entered the heart of man to

conceive.'

We must at the same time frankly admit that Augusta, in order to screen

Mary Chaworth, did all she could do to keep Lady Byron under a false

impression. She seems to have felt so secure in the knowledge of her own

innocence that she might afford to allow Lady Byron to think as ill of her

as she pleased.

Unfortunately, Augusta, having once entered upon a course of duplicity,

was obliged to keep it up by equivocations of all kinds. She went so far

as even to show portions of letters addressed to her care, and pretended

that they had been written to herself. She seems to have felt no

compunction for the sufferings of Lady Byron. She may even have exulted in

the pain she inflicted upon that credulous lady, having herself suffered

intensely through the false suspicions, and the studied insults heaped

upon her by many of Lady Byron's adherents.

Byron, who was informed of what had been said against his sister by Lady

Byron and others, told the world in 'Marino Faliero' that he 'had only one

fount of quiet left, and _that_ they poisoned.' But he was powerless to

interfere.

Writing to Moore (September 19, 1818) he said:

'I could have forgiven the dagger or the bowl--anything but the

deliberate desolation piled upon me, when I stood alone upon my

hearth, with my household gods shivered around me. Do you suppose I

have forgotten it? It has, comparatively, swallowed up in me every

other feeling, and I am only a spectator upon earth till a tenfold

opportunity offers.'

It may be that Augusta avenged her brother tenfold without his knowledge.

But she suffered in the process. Lord Lovelace lays great stress upon what

he calls 'the correspondence of 1819,' in order to show us that Augusta

had confessed to the crime of incest. That correspondence is very

interesting, not as showing the guilt of Augusta Leigh, but as an example

of feminine duplicity in which she was an adept. Augusta was hard pressed

indeed for some weapon of offence when she pretended, on June 25, 1819,

that she had received the following letter from her brother. She must have

been some time in making up her mind to send it, as the letter in question

had been in her hands three weeks, having arrived in London on June 4. It

may be as well to state that all letters written by Byron to Mary Chaworth

passed through Mrs. Leigh's hands, and were delivered with circumspection.

'VENICE,

'_May 17, 1819_.[70]

'MY DEAREST LOVE,

'I have been negligent in not writing, but what can I say? Three

years' absence--and the total change of scene and habit make such a

difference that we have never nothing in common but our affections and

our relationship. But I have never ceased nor can cease to feel for a

moment that perfect and boundless attachment which bound and binds me

to you--which renders me utterly incapable of _real_ love for any

other human being--for what could they be to me after _you_? My own

...[71] we may have been very wrong--but I repent of nothing except

that cursed marriage--and your refusing to continue to love me as you

had loved me. I can neither forget nor _quite forgive_ you for that

precious piece of reformation, but I can never be other than I have

been--and whenever I love anything it is because it reminds me in

some way or other of yourself. For instance, I not long ago attached

myself to a Venetian for no earthly reason (although a pretty woman)

but because she was called ...[72] and she often remarked (without

knowing the reason) how fond I was of the name.[73] It is

heart-breaking to think of our long separation--and I am sure more

than punishment enough for all our sins. Dante is more humane in his

"Hell," for he places his unfortunate lovers (Francesca of Rimini and

Paolo--whose case fell a good deal short of _ours_, though

sufficiently naughty) in company; and though they suffer, it is at

least together. If ever I return to England it will be to see you; and

recollect that in all time, and place, and feelings, I have never

ceased to be the same to you in heart. Circumstances may have ruffled

my manner and hardened my spirit; you may have seen me harsh and

exasperated with all things around me; grieved and tortured with _your

new resolution_, and the soon after persecution of that infamous

fiend[74] who drove me from my country, and conspired against my

life--by endeavouring to deprive me of all that could render it

precious[75]--but remember that even then _you_ were the sole object

that cost me a tear; and _what tears_! Do you remember our parting? I

have not spirits now to write to you upon other subjects. I am well in

health, and have no cause of grief but the reflection that we are not

together. When you write to me speak to me of yourself, and say that

you love me; never mind common-place people and topics which can be in

no degree interesting to me who see nothing in England but the country

which holds _you_, or around it but the sea which divides us. They say

absence destroys weak passions, and confirms strong ones. Alas! _mine_

for you is the union of all passions and of all affections--has

strengthened itself, but will destroy me; I do not speak of physical

destruction, for I have endured, and can endure, much; but the

annihilation of all thoughts, feelings, or hopes, which have not more

or less a reference, to you and to _our recollections_.

'Ever, dearest,'

[Signature erased].

The terms of this letter, which Lord Lovelace produces as conclusive

evidence against Augusta Leigh, deserve attention. At first sight they

seem to confirm Lady Byron's belief that a criminal intercourse had

existed between her husband and his sister. But close examination shows

that the letter was not written to Mrs. Leigh at all, but to Mary

Chaworth.

On the day it was written Byron was at Venice, where he had recently made

the acquaintance of the Countess Guiccioli, whom, as 'Lady of the land,'

he followed to Ravenna a fortnight later. It will be noticed that the date

synchronizes with the period when the 'Stanzas to the Po' were written.

Both letter and poem dwell upon the memory of an unsatisfied passion. The

letter bears neither superscription nor signature, both having been erased

by Mrs. Leigh before the document reached Lady Byron's hands. The writer

excuses himself for not having written to his correspondent (_a_) because

three years' absence, (_b_) total change of scene, and (_c_) _because

there is nothing in common between them_, except mutual affections and

their relationship. Byron could not have excused himself in that manner to

a sister, who had much in common with him, and to whom he had written, on

an average, twice in every month since he left England. His letters to

Augusta entered minutely into all his feelings and actions, and the common

bond between them was Ada, whose disposition, appearance, and health,

occupied a considerable space in their correspondence.

Nor would Byron have written in that amatory strain to his dear 'Goose.'

In the letter which preceded the one we have quoted, Byron begins,

'Dearest Augusta,' and ends, 'I am in health, and yours, B.' In that which

followed it there is nothing in the least effusive. It begins, 'Dearest

Augusta,' and ends, 'Yours ever, and very truly, B.' There are not many of

Byron's letters to Augusta extant. All those which mentioned Medora were

either mutilated or suppressed.

For Byron to have given 'three years' absence, and a total change of

scene,' as reasons for not having written to his sister for a month or so

would have been absurd. But when he said that he had nothing in common

with Mary Chaworth, except 'our affections and our relationship,' his

meaning was--their mutual affections, their kinship, and their common

relationship to Medora.

We invite any unprejudiced person to say whether Byron would have been

likely to write to a sister, who knew his mind thoroughly, 'I have never

ceased--nor can cease to feel for a moment that perfect and boundless

attachment which bound and binds me to you.' Did not Augusta know very

well that he loved and admired her, and that Byron was under the strongest

obligations to her for her loyalty at a trying time?

Then, there was the erasure of 'a short name of three or four letters,'

which might have opened Lady Byron's eyes to the trick that was being

played upon her. Those four letters spelt the name of Mary, and the

'pretty woman' to whom Byron had 'not long ago' attached himself was the

Venetian Marianna (Anglice: Mary Anne) Segati, with whom he formed a

liaison from November, 1816, to February 1818. Augusta would certainly

not have understood the allusion.

In this illuminating letter Byron reproaches Mary Chaworth for breaking

off her fatal intimacy with him, and for having persuaded him to

marry--'that infamous fiend who drove me from my country, and conspired

against my life--by _endeavouring to deprive me of all that could render

it precious_.' As the person here referred to was, obviously, Augusta

herself, this remark could not have been made to her. In speaking of their

long separation as a punishment for their sins, he tells Mary Chaworth

that, if he ever returns to England, it will be to see _her_, and that his

feelings have undergone no change. It will be observed that Byron begs his

correspondent _to speak to him only of herself and to say that she loves

him_! It is scarcely necessary to remind the reader that Augusta was the

intermediary between Byron and his wife--his confidential agent in purely

private affairs. It was to her that he wrote on all matters relating to

business transactions with his wife, and from whom he received

intelligence of the health and happiness of his daughter. Under those

circumstances how could Byron ask Augusta to speak to him of nothing but

her love for him?

To show the absurdity of Lord Lovelace's contention, we insert the letter

which Byron wrote to his sister seven months later. Many letters had

passed between them during the interval, but we have not been allowed to

see them:

'BOLOGNA,

'_December 23, 1819_.

'DEAREST AUGUSTA,

'The health of my daughter Allegra, the cold season, and the length of

the journey, induce me to postpone for some time a purpose (never

very willing on my part) to revisit Great Britain.

'You can address to me at Venice as usual. Wherever I may be in Italy,

the letter will be forwarded. I enclose to you all that long hair on

account of which you would not go to see my picture. You will see that

it was not so very long. I curtailed it yesterday, my head and hair

being weakly after my tertian.

'I wrote to you not very long ago, and, as I do not know that I could

add anything satisfactory to that letter, I may as well finish this.

In a letter to Murray I requested him to apprise you that my journey

was postponed; but here, there, and everywhere, know me

'Yours ever and very truly,

'B.'

It is ridiculous to suppose that these two letters were addressed to the

same person. In the one we find the expression of an imperishable

attachment, in the other merely commonplace statements. In the first

letter Byron says, if ever he returns to England, it will be to see the

person to whom he is writing, and that absence has the more deeply

confirmed his passion. In the second he tells the lady that he has had his

hair cut, and that he was never very willing to revisit Great Britain! And

yet, in spite of these inconsistencies, Lady Byron walked into the snare

which Augusta had so artfully prepared. In forwarding the amatory epistle

to Lady Byron, Augusta tells her to burn it, and says that her brother

'must surely be considered a maniac' for having written it, adding, with

adroit mystification:

'_I_ do not believe any feelings expressed are by any means

permanent--only occasioned by the passing and present reflection and

occupation of writing _to the unfortunate Being to whom they are

addressed_.'

Augusta did not tell Lady Byron that 'the unfortunate Being' was Mary

Chaworth, now reconciled to her husband, and that she had withheld Byron's

letter from her, lest her mind should be unsettled by its perusal.

Mrs. Leigh had two excellent reasons for this betrayal of trust. In the

first place, she wished Lady Byron to believe that her brother was still

making love to her, and that she was keeping her promise in not

encouraging his advances. In the second place, she knew that the terms of

Byron's letter would deeply wound Lady Byron's pride--and revenge is

sometimes sweet!

Lady Byron, who was no match for her sister-in-law, had failed to realize

the wisdom of her mother's warning: 'Beware of Augusta, for she _must_

hate you.' She received this proof of Augusta's return to virtue with

gratitude, thanked her sincerely, and acknowledged that the terms of

Byron's letter 'afforded ample testimony that she had not encouraged his

tenderness.' Poor Lady Byron! She deserves the pity of posterity. But she

was possessed of common sense, and knew how to play her own hand fairly

well. She wrote to Augusta in the following terms:

'This letter is a proof of the prior "reformation," which was

sufficiently evidenced to _me_ by your own assertion, and the

agreement of circumstances with it. _But, in case of a more

unequivocal disclosure on his part than has yet been made_, this

letter would confute those false accusations to which you would

undoubtedly be subjected from others.'

In suggesting a more open disclosure on Byron's part, Lady Byron angled

for further confidences, so that her evidence against her husband might be

overwhelming. She hoped that his repentant sister might be able to show

incriminating letters, which would support the clue found in those

missives which Mrs. Clermont had 'conveyed.' How little did she understand

Augusta Leigh! Never would she have assisted Lady Byron to prejudice the

world against her brother, nor would she have furnished Lady Byron with a

weapon which might at any moment have been turned against herself.

With the object of proving Augusta's guilt, the whole correspondence

between her and Lady Byron from June 27, 1819, to the end of the following

January has been printed in 'Astarte.'

We have carefully examined it without finding anything that could convict

Augusta and Byron. It seems clear that Mrs. Leigh began this

correspondence with an ulterior object in view. She wished to win back

Lady Byron's confidence, and to induce her to make some arrangement by

which the Leigh children would benefit at Lady Byron's death, in the event

of Byron altering the will he had already made in their favour. She began

by asking Lady Byron's advice as to how she was to answer the 'Dearest

Love' letter. Lady Byron gave her two alternatives. Either she must tell

her brother that, so long as his idea of her was associated with the most

guilty feelings, it was her duty to break off all communication; or, if

Augusta did not approve of that plan, then it was her duty to treat

Byron's letter with the silence of contempt. To this excellent advice

Augusta humbly replied that, if she were to reprove her brother for the

warmth of his letter, he might be mortally offended, in which case her

children, otherwise unprovided for, would fare badly. But Mrs. Leigh was

too diplomatic to convey that meaning in plain language. Writing June 28,

1819, she says:

'I will tell you what _now_ passes in my mind. As to the _gentler_

expedient you propose, I certainly lean to it, as the least offensive;

but, supposing he suspects the motive, and is piqued to answer: "I

wrote you such a letter of such a date: did you receive it?" What then

is to be done? I could not reply falsely--and might not that line of

conduct, acknowledged, irritate? This consideration would lead me,

perhaps preferably, to adopt the other, as most open and honest

(certainly to any other character but his), but query whether it might

not be most judicious as to its effects; _and_ at the same time

acknowledging that his victim was wholly in his power, as to temporal

good,[76] and leaving it to his generosity whether to use that power

or not. There seem so many reasons why he should for his own sake

abstain _for the present_ from _gratifying_ his revenge, that one can

scarcely think he would do so--unless _insane_. It would surely be

ruin to all his prospects, and those of a pecuniary nature are not

indifferent if others are become so.

'If really and truly he feels, or fancies he feels, that passion he

professes, I have constantly imagined he might suppose, from his

experience of the _weakness_ of disposition of the unfortunate object,

that, driven from every other hope or earthly prospect, she might fly

to _him_! and that as long as he was impressed with that idea he would

persevere in his projects. But, if he considered _that_ hopeless, he

might desist, for otherwise he must lose everything _but his revenge_,

and what good would _that_ do him?

'After all, my dearest A., if you cannot calculate the probable

consequences, how should I presume to do so! To be sure, the gentler

expedient might be the safest, with so violent and irritable a

disposition, and at least _for a time_ act as a _palliative_--and who

knows what changes a little time might produce or how Providence might

graciously interpose! With so many reasons to wish to avoid

extremities (I mean for the sake of others), one leans to what

appears the _safest_, and one is a coward.

'But the other at the same time has something gratifying to one's

feelings--and I think might be said and done--so that, if he showed

the letters, it would be no evidence against _the_ person; and worded

with that kindness, and appearance of real affectionate concern for

_him_ as well as the other person concerned, that it _might_ possibly

touch him. Pray think of what I have _thought_, and write me a line,

not to decide, for that I cannot expect, but to tell me if I deceived

myself in the ideas I have expressed to you. I shall not, _cannot_

answer till the _latest_ post-day this week.

'I know you will forgive me for this infliction, and may God bless you

for that, and every other kindness.'

We do not remember ever to have read a letter more frankly disingenuous

than this. The duplicity lurking in every line shows why the cause of the

separation between Lord and Lady Byron has been for so long a mystery.

Lady Byron herself was mystified by Augusta Leigh. It certainly was not

easy for Lady Byron to gauge the deep deception practised upon her by both

her husband and Mrs. Leigh; and yet it is surprising that Lady Byron

should not have suspected, in Augusta's self-depreciation, an element of

fraud. Was it likely that Augusta, who had good reason to hate Lady Byron,

would have provided her with such damning proofs against her brother and

herself, if she had not possessed a clear conscience in the matter? She

relied implicitly upon Byron's letter being destroyed, and so worded her

own that it would be extremely difficult for anyone but Lady Byron to

understand what she was writing about. It will be noticed that no names

are mentioned in any of her missives. People are referred to either as

'maniacs,' 'victims,' 'unfortunate objects,' or as 'that most detestable

woman, your relation by marriage,' which, in a confidential communication

to a sister-in-law, would be superfluous caution were she really sincere.

But, after the separation period, Mrs. Leigh was never sincere in her

intercourse with Lady Byron. Through that lady's unflattering suspicions,

Augusta had suffered 'too much to be forgiven.' Lady Byron, on the other

hand, with very imperfect understanding of her sister-in-law's character,

was entirely at her mercy. To employ a colloquialism, the whole thing was

a 'blind,' devised to support Augusta's rôle as a repentant Magdalen; to

attract compassion, perhaps even pecuniary assistance; and, above all, to

shield the mother of Medora. The _ruse_ was successful. Lady Byron saw a

chance of eventually procuring, in the handwriting of her husband,

conclusive evidence of his crime. In her letter of June 27, 1819, to Mrs.

Leigh, she conveyed a hint that Byron might be lured to make 'a more

unequivocal disclosure than has yet been made.'

Lady Byron, it must be remembered, craved incessantly for documentary

proofs, which might be produced, if necessary, to justify her conduct. It

is significant that at the time of writing she possessed no evidence,

except the letters which Mrs. Clermont had purloined from Byron's

writing-desk, and these were pronounced by Lushington to be far from

conclusive.

Mrs. Leigh seems to have enjoyed the wrigglings of her victim on the hook.

'Decision was never my forte,' she writes to Lady Byron: 'one ought to act

_right_, and leave the issue to Providence.'

The whole episode would be intensely comical were it not so pathetic. As

might have been expected, Lady Byron eventually suffered far more than the

woman she had so cruelly wounded. Augusta seems coolly to suggest that

her brother might 'out of revenge' (because his sister acted virtuously?)

publish to the world his incestuous intercourse with her! Could anyone in

his senses believe such nonsense? Augusta hints that then Lady Byron would

be able to procure a divorce; and, as Lady Noel was still alive, Byron

would not be able to participate in that lady's fortune at her death.

The words, 'There seem so many reasons why he should for his own sake

abstain _for the present_ from gratifying his revenge ... it would surely

be ruin to all his prospects,' are plain enough. Even if there had been

anything to disclose, Byron would never have wounded that sister who stood

at his side at the darkest hour of his life, who had sacrificed herself in

order to screen his love for Mary Chaworth, and who was his sole rock of

refuge in this stormy world. But it was necessary to show Lady Byron that

she was standing on the brink 'of a precipice.'

'On the subject of the mortgage,' writes Augusta, 'I mean to decline

that wholly; and pray do me the justice to believe that one thought of

the interests of my children, as far as _that_ channel is concerned,

never crosses my mind. I have entreated--I believe more than

once--that the will might be altered. [Oh, Augusta!] But if it is

not--as far as I understand the matter--there is not the slightest

probability of their ever deriving any benefit. Whatever my feelings,

dear A., I assure you, never in my life have I looked to advantage of

_that_ sort. I do not mean that I have any merit in not doing it--but

that I have no inclination, therefore nothing to struggle with. I

trust my babes to Providence, and, provided they are _good_, I think,

perhaps, _too little_ of the rest.'

It is plain that Augusta was getting nervous about her brother's

attachment to the Guiccioli, a liaison which might end in trouble; and if

that lady was avaricious (which she was not) Byron might be induced to

alter his will (made in 1815), by which he left all _his_ share in the

property to Augusta's children. With a mother's keen eye to their ultimate

advantage, she tried hard to make their position secure, so that, in the

event of Byron changing his mind, Lady Byron might make suitable provision

for them. It was a prize worth playing for, and she played the game for

all it was worth. 'Leaving her babes to Providence' was just the kind of

sentiment most likely to appeal to Lady Byron who did, in a measure,

respond to Augusta's hints. In a letter (December 23, 1819) Lady Byron

writes:

'With regard to your pecuniary interests ... I am aware that the

interests of your children may _rightly_ influence your conduct when

guilt is not incurred by consulting them. However, your children

cannot, I trust, under any circumstances, be left destitute, for

reasons which I will hereafter communicate.'

There was at this time a strong probability of Byron's return to England.

Lady Byron tried to extract from Augusta a promise that she would not see

him. Augusta fenced with the question, until, when driven into a corner,

she was compelled to admit that it would be unnatural to close the door

against her brother. Lady Byron was furious:

'I do not consider you bound to me in any way,' she writes. 'I told

you what I knew, because I thought that measure would enable me to

befriend you--and chiefly by representing the objections to a renewal

of personal communication between you and him.... We must, _according

to your present intentions_, act independently of each other. On my

part it will still be with every possible consideration for you and

your children, and should I, by your reception of him, be obliged to

relinquish my intercourse with you, I will do so in such manner as

shall be least prejudicial to your interests. I shall most earnestly

wish that the results of your conduct may tend to establish your

peace, instead of aggravating your remorse. But, entertaining these

views of your duty and my own, could I in honesty, or in friendship,

suppress them?'

It might have been supposed that Lady Byron, in 1816, after Augusta's

so-called 'confession,' would have kept her secret inviolate. That had

been a condition precedent; without it Augusta would not have ventured to

deceive even Lady Byron. It appears from the following note, written by

Lady Byron to Mrs. Villiers, that Augusta's secret had been confided to

the tender mercies of that lady. On January 26, 1820, Lady Byron writes:

'I am reluctant to give you _my_ impression of what has passed between

Augusta and me, respecting her conduct in case of his return; but I

should like to know whether your unbiassed opinion, _formed from the

statement of facts_, coincided with it.'

Verily, Augusta had been playing with fire!

CHAPTER V

On December 31, 1819, Byron wrote a letter to his wife. The following is

an extract:

'Augusta can tell you all about me and mine, if you think either worth

the inquiry. The object of my writing is to come. It is this: I saw

Moore three months ago, and gave to his care a long Memoir, written up

to the summer of 1816, of my life, which I had been writing since I

left England. It will not be published till after my death; and, in

fact, it is a Memoir, and not "Confessions." I have omitted the most

important and decisive events and passions of my existence, not to

compromise others. But it is not so with the part you occupy, which is

long and minute; and I could wish you to see, read, and mark any part

or parts that do not appear to coincide with the truth. The truth I

have always stated--but there are two ways of looking at it, and your

way may be not mine. I have never revised the papers since they were

written. You may read them and mark what you please. I wish you to

know what I think and say of you and yours. You will find nothing to

flatter you; nothing to lead you to the most remote supposition that

we could ever have been--or be happy together. But I do not choose to

give to another generation statements which we cannot arise from the

dust to prove or disprove, without letting you see fairly and fully

what I look upon you to have been, and what I depict you as being. If,

seeing this, you can detect what is false, or answer what is charged,

do so; _your mark_ shall not be erased. You will perhaps say, _Why_

write my life? Alas! I say so too. But they who have traduced it, and

blasted it, and branded me, should know that it is they, and not I,

are the cause. It is no great pleasure to have lived, and less to live

over again the details of existence; but the last becomes sometimes a

necessity, and even a duty. If you choose to see this, you may; if you

do not, you have at least had the option.'

The receipt of this letter gave Lady Byron the deepest concern, and, in

the impulse of a moment, she drafted a reply full of bitterness and

defiance. But Dr. Lushington persuaded her--not without a deal of

trouble--to send an answer the terms of which, after considerable delay,

were arranged between them. The letter in question has already appeared in

Mr. Prothero's 'Letters and Journals of Lord Byron,'[77] together with

Byron's spirited rejoinder of April 3, 1820.

Lord Lovelace throws much light upon the inner workings of Lady Byron's

mind at this period. That she should have objected to the publication of

Byron's memoirs was natural; but, instead of saying this in a few

dignified sentences, Lady Byron parades her wrongs, and utters dark hints

as to the possible complicity of Augusta Leigh in Byron's mysterious

scheme of revenge. Dr. Lushington at first thought that it would be wiser

and more diplomatic to beg Byron's sister to dissuade him from publishing

his memoirs, but Lady Byron scented danger in that course.

'I foresee,' she wrote to Colonel Doyle, 'from the transmission of

such a letter ... this consequence: that an unreserved disclosure from

Mrs. Leigh to him being necessitated, they would combine together

against me, he being actuated by revenge, she by fear; whereas, from

her never having dared to inform him that she has already admitted his

guilt to me with her own, they have hitherto been prevented from

acting in concert.'

Byron was, of course, well acquainted with what had passed between his

wife and Augusta Leigh. It could not have been kept from him, even if

there had been any reason for secrecy. He knew that his sister had been

driven to admit that Medora was his child, thus _implying_ the crime of

which she had been suspected. There was nothing, therefore, for Augusta to

fear from _him_. She dreaded a public scandal, not so much on her own

account as 'for the sake of others.' For that reason she tried to dissuade

her brother from inviting a public discussion on family matters. There was

no reason why Augusta should 'combine' with Byron against his hapless

wife!