So says her son, and continues:--

"The mischief was aggravated by the unfortunate occurrence that my

mother being unable to suckle her first-born child, it had been

nursed out of the house. Her maternal instinct, thus thwarted in

its origin, never revived. The care of children was ever after

distasteful to her. Losing this satisfaction to her affections,

unless she had company in the house she was lonely. As it was,

neither of them saw the issue to which the divided life was

tending."

That issue, as all the world knows, was a separation of the husband and

wife, and a life-long quarrel of almost unimagined bitterness. No wonder

that Bulwer's hand faltered when be tried to write of it, and that,

having brought his autobiography up to this point, he laid it by, not

daring to go on. He always cherished the intention of resuming it, but

could never bring himself to the point of doing so. He could not tell

the story; but Lady Lytton could, and did, continuing to do so till her

dying day. The picture of her which her son has given does not seem like

that of a woman who would do all the things which she notoriously did.

But doubtless she had her amiable and engaging side, and was half

maddened by her wrongs. Justin McCarthy says:--

"I do not know whether I ought to call it a quarrel. Can that be

called a quarrel, piteously asks the man in 'Juvenal,' where my

enemy only beats and I am beaten? Can that be called a quarrel in

which, so far as the public could judge, the wife did all the

denunciation, and the husband made no reply? Lady Lytton wrote

novels for the purpose of satirizing her husband and his

friends,--his parasites, she called them. Lady Lytton attributed to

her husband the most odious meannesses, vices, and cruelties; but

the public, with all its love of scandal, seems to have steadfastly

refused to take her ladyship's word for these accusations. Dickens

she denounced and vilified as a mere parasite and sycophant of her

husband. Disraeli she caricatured under the title of Jericho

Jabber. This sort of thing she kept always going on. Sometimes she

issued pamphlets to the women of England, calling on them to take

up her quarrel, which, somehow, they never did. Once, when Sir

Edward was on the hustings addressing his constituents at a county

election, her ladyship suddenly appeared, mounted the platform, and

'went' for him. I do not know anything of the merits of the

quarrel, but have always thought that something like insanity must

have been the explanation of much of her conduct. But it is beyond

doubt that her husband's conduct was remarkable for its quiet,

indomitable patience and dignity."

Let the veil drop over the blighted lives, knowing as we do that the

human heart is so dark and intricate a labyrinth that we cannot claim to

understand it by half knowledge, and that however we might judge these

two with any light which we can possibly have in our day, we should be

in danger of doing each a grievous wrong.

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