Lady Byron Vindicated

m. A tide of emotion was now aroused in England by his early death-dying in the cause of Greece and liberty. There arose a general wail for him, as for a lost pl

been looked upon as the only cold-hearted u

on as a woman to whom none of the decorums, nor courtesies of ordinary wo

in her very helplessness; and the old Hebrew Scriptures give to the Supreme Father no dearer title than 'the widow's God.' But, on Lord Byron's death, men not

e had neither son nor brother to uphold and protect her. On all hands it was acknowledged that, so far, there was no fault to be found in her but her utter silence. Her life was confessed to be pure, useful, charitable;

as Wilson, the lion-hearted, the brave, generous, tender poet, and, with some sad exceptions, the noble man. But Wil

rth says, 'Byron and I knew each other pretty well; and I suppose there's no harm in add

d till 1830, when it appeared in Moore's "Life of Byron." It is one of the most vigorous prose c

e the private affairs of a pure and good woman, whose circumstances under any point of view were trying, and wh

ting peculiarities of genius and great sensitiveness; and the many mortifications and embarrassments which such intermeddling with h

d allowed her no considera

s, interlarded with exhortations to push the bottle, and remarks on whisky-toddy. Medwin's 'Conversations wit

uld ha' been brave sparring to see who could say the wildest and the dreadfullest things; for he had neither fear of man or woman, and would ha' his joke or jeer, cost what it might.' And then follows a specimen of one of his jokes with an actress, that, in

Byron's private affairs come up for discussion

, is your opinion o' Lord and Leddy Byron's quarrel? Do you yoursel'

ard and Hobhouse are bound to tell us whether there be any truth, and how

he effect that, previous to the formal separation from his wife, Byron required and obtained from Sir Ralph Milbanke, Lad

cont

y to go upon; and certainly, if the things that are said be true, there must be thorough explanation from some quarter, or the tide will continue, as it has assuredly begun, to flow in a direction very opposi

inter

rth; but I must inquire, Is the jug to stan

à fortiori, of every drawing-room in May Fair. Can the matter stop here? Can a great man's memor

nto strong, emphatic praise of Byron's conduc

is the talk, not only over the whisky jug of the Noctes, but in every drawing-room in Londo

on affairs, and was, on that account, first thought of by Murray to execute this very delicate task of writing a memoir which should include the most sacred domestic affairs of a noble lady and her orphan daughter, was Maginn. Maginn, the au

n Mackenzie, in the June numbe

inn should bring out Memoirs, Journals, and Letters of Lord Byron, and, with this intent, placed in his hand every line that he (Murray) possessed in Byron's handwriting. . . . . The strong desire of Byron's family and executors

n will appear from the following note of Mackenzie's to 'The Noct

hing that occurred in the twenty-four hours immediately succeeding that in which Byron was married. It had plenty of coarseness, and some to spare. It went into particulars such as hitherto had been given only by Faublas; and it had, notwithstanding, many phrases and some facts which evidently did not belong to a mere fabricator. Some years

hat, according to this, his 'Autobiography' was made the means

oughout the whole British nation, no editor would have dared to open a periodical with such an article; or, if he had, he would have been overwhelmed

oetical epistle, recognising the article as

ir, a wit and a

o produce what he

nt, youngster; thi

rose when his

urray says in a recent account, by a committee of Byron's f

r. No memoir at all is undertaken; till finally Moore is selected, as, like Demetrius of old, a well-skilled gilder and 'maker of silver shrines,' though not for Diana. To Moore is committed the task of d

his record shows his average associates to be. He is so far superior to Maginn, that his vice is rose-coloure

hrow your

get drunk

where Bacchus

gh on barr

slippery, and covered at times with a thin,

as as much bewitched by him as ever man has been by woman; and there

cense spoke out what most men conceal from mere respect to the decent instincts of humanity; whose 'honour was lost,'-was submitted to th

stand that no common rule or measure could apply to such an undoubtedly divine production; and so the hearts of men were to be wrung with pity for his sorrows as

plains of Dura; and what time the world heard the sound of cornet, sackbut,

what becomes of the woman when the man's story is to be told. But, with all his faults, Moore was not a cruel man; and we cannot conceive such outrageous cruelty and ungentlemanly inde

ters filled, from the time of the act of separation, with a constant succession of sarcasms, stabs, stings, epigrams, and vindictive allusions to herself, bringing her into direct and insulting comparison with his various mistresses, and implying their superiority over her. There, too,

roval letters from Shelley, stating that Lord Byron's connection with La Guiccioli has been of inestimable benefit to him; and that he is now becoming what he should be, 'a virtuous man.' Moore goes on to speak of the connection as one, though somewhat

er years idolises his name; and, with a single unhappy exception, scarce an instance is to be found of one brought.

Byron's rank in life, placed before the world in a position more

of the consideration which in ordinary life is to be accorded to a widow who has received those awful tiding

k her frame, while she sought to draw from the servant that last message of her husband

ng her effigy dangling before the public as a mark for solemn curses, and filthy lampoons, and secretly-circulated disclosures, that spared no sacredness and violated every decorum, she had not uttered a word. She had been subjected to nameless insults, discussed in the assemblies of drunkards, and challenged to spe

en Byron gave only a suggestion of when he called his wife Clytemnestra; and hints that she tried the power

ught of; and the only and chief allegation again

poke, the world listened with re

give it the careful attention she solicits

unmingled with it; but when the conduct of my parents is brought forward in a disgraceful light by the passages selected from Lord Byron's letters, and by the remarks of his biographer, I feel bound to justify their characters from imputations which I know to be false. The passages from Lord Byron's letters, to which I refer, are,-the aspersion on my mother's character (p.648, l.4): {70a} "My child is very well and flourishing, I hear; but I must see also. I feel no disposition to resign it to the contagion of its grandmother's society." The assertion of her dishonourable conduct in employing a spy (p.645, l.7, etc.): "A Mrs. C. (now a kind of housekeeper and spy of Lady N's), who, in her better days, was a washerwoman, is supposed to be-by the learned-very much the occult cause of our domestic discrepancies." The seeming exculpation of myself in the extract (p.646), with the words immediately following it, "Her nearest relations are a--;" where

from the communications made to me by his nearest relatives and personal attendant, who had more opportunities than myself of observing him during the latter part of my stay in town. It was even represented to me that he was in danger of destroying himself. With the concurrence of his family, I had consulted Dr. Baillie, as a friend (Jan. 8), respecting this supposed malady. On acquainting him with the state of the case, and with Lord Byron's desire that I should leave London, Dr. Baillie thought that my absence might be advisable as an experiment, assuming the fact of mental derangement; for Dr. Baillie, not having had access to Lord Byron, could not p

changed by persuasion and interference when I was under the roof of my parents. These assertions and inferences are wholly destitute of foundation. When I arrived at Kirkby Mallory, my parents were unacquainted with the existence of any causes likely to destroy my prospects of happiness; and, when I communicated to them the opinion which had been formed c

Lord Byron's past conduct as that of a person of sound mind, nothing could induce me to return to him. It therefore appeared expedient, both to them and myself, to consult the ablest advisers. For that object, and also to obtain still further information respecting the appearances which seemed to indicate mental derangement, my mother determined to go to London. She was empowered by me to take legal opinions on a written statement of mine, though I had then reasons for reserving a part of the case from the knowledge even of my father and mother. Being convinced by the result of these inquiries, and by the tenor of Lord Byron's proceedings, that the notion of insanity was an illusion, I no longer hesitated to authorise suc

on with Lord Byron practicable, and felt most sincerely a wish to aid in effecting it. There was not on Lady Noel's part any exaggeration of the facts; nor, so far as I could perceive, any determination to prevent a return to Lord Byron: certainly none was expressed when I spoke of a reconciliation. When you came to town, in about a fortnight, or perhaps more, after my first interview with Lady N

, very faith

H. LUS

ge Street, J

pinions were false, the responsibility and the odium should rest with me only. I trust that the facts which I have here briefly recapitulat

d protection which she claimed. There is no other near relative to vindicate their memory from insult. I am therefore compelled to break the silence wh

NOEL

ill, Feb.

(Wilson) in the succeeding May number of 'The Noctes,' where the bravest and most generous of literary men that the

I have always spoken with respect! . . . But may I, without harshness or indelicacy, say, here among ourselves, James, that, by marrying Byron, she took upon herself, with eyes wi

that, sir; by my tr

.

esistible, or hid the worst stain of, that reproach, still Miss Milbanke must have believed it a perilous thing to be the wife of Lord Byron. . . . But still, by joini

. . If Byron's sins or crimes-for we are driven to use terrible terms-were unendurable and unforgivable as if against the Holy Ghost, ought the wheel, the rack, or the stake to have extorted that confession from his widow's breast? . . . But there was no such pain here, James

.

ut filial affection and reverence, sacred as they are, may be blamelessly, nay, righteously, subordinate to conjugal duties,

breadth; and, that all women may understand the doctrine, the Shepherd now takes up his

od, as bright, as innocent as, and far more forgiving than, Lady Byron. There they sit in their obscure, rarely-visited dwel

fainting for hunger, obliged, on her way to the well for a can of

raided under her crape cap; and sometimes, when all is still and solitary in the fields, and all labour has disappeared into the house, you may see her stealing b

little boy, a child of eight years old, on the floor, till the blood gushed from his ears; and then the madman threw himself down on the body, and howled for the gallows. Limmers haunted his door, and he theirs; and it was hers to lie, not sleep, in a co

ver look like his father,"-and such sayings, uttered in a calm, sweet voice. Nay, I remember once how her pale countenance reddened with a sudden flush of pride, when a gossiping crone alluded to their wedding; and the widow's eye brightened through her

These 'Blackwood' writers knew, by Byron's own filthy, ghastly writings, which had gone sorely against their own moral stomachs, that he was foul to the bone. They could see, in Moore's 'Memoirs' right before them, how he had caught an innocent girl's

and the nameless abominations in the 'Autobiography.' They had admitted among themselves that his honour was lost; but still this abuse

et the 'Blackwood' does not see it nor feel it, and brings up against Lady Byron this touching story of a poor widow, who really had

ch they share alike with the poor dog,-the dog, who, beaten, kicked, starved, and cuffed, still lies by his drunken master with great anxious eyes of love and sorrow, and with sweet, brute forgivene

we no higher duties, and are capable of no higher tenderness, than this loving, unquestioning animal fidelity! The dog is ever-loving, ever

hat utter deadness to the sense of justice which the laws, literature, and misunderst

ome into a hell, beat and torture his children, forsake the marriage-bed for foul rivals; yet all this does not dissolve the marriage-vow on her part, nor free

rily believed and admitted, might have done worse than all this; whose crimes might have been 'foul, monstrous, unforgivable as the sin against the Holy Gho

e whole story before the world at the time she separated from her husband. He says of

e delicacy of a virtuous woman its due; but at such a crisis, when the question was whether her conscience was to be free from the oath

at a' this pollution could hae been,

yet within the range of pity and forgiveness; and, where they are, their sister affection

een silent-till the grave had clos

d man's name cannot be-far, far better it might-I believe it would be-were all the truth somehow or other declared; and declared

f Lady Byron's duties in a f

ion of Byron's works gotten up, and adorned, for the further glorification of h

imagine reasons why a lady, with proper self-respect, should object to appearing in this manner. One would suppose there might have been gentlemen who could well appreciate the motive of that refusal; but it was only consi

of disrespect to the marital dignity on the part of a wife. It was a plain act of insubordination, rebellion against law and order; and how

as she sat in church. Two sittings were thus obtained without her knowledge. In the third one, the artist placed himself boldly before her, and sketched, so that she could not but observe him. W

mpelled to take what she refused to give. The result was, Wright was requested to visit her, which he did; taking with him, not the sketch, which was very good, but another, in which there was a strong touch o

o be lost; but it is quite borne out by the conv

yron beauties appeared successively in pamphlet for

n purpose: and that's very agreeable to hear of; for it shows her ladyship has got over any little soreness that Moor

really very noble in the unfortunate lady.

most touching contrast to the maids of Athens, Annesley, and all the rest of them. I'

I mean to do that for

omas Campbell the poet, when he read Lady Byron's statement, believed it, as did Christopher North; but it affected him differently. It appears he did not believe it a wife'

, printed a spirited, gentlemanly defence of Lady Byron, and administered a pointed rebuke to Moore for the rudeness and indelicacy he had shown in selecting from Byron's letters

ether on his knees at the feet of the popular idol, and who has s

right, more especially, as one of the many friends of Lady Byron, who, one and all, feel aggrieved by this production. It has virtually dragged her forward from the shade of retirement, where she had hid her sorrows, and compelled her to defend the heads of her friends and her parents from being crushed under the tombstone of Byron. Nay, in a general view, it has forced her to defend herse

fortunes, a publicly-agitated cause, it concerns morality, and the most sacred rights of the sex, that she should (and that, too, without more special explanations) be acquitted out and out, and honourably acquitted

e a word against him I wish not to say beyond what is painfully wrung from me by the necessity of owning or illustrating Lady Byron's unblamableness, and of repelling certain misconceptions respect

ied to her for information against Lord Byron, though I was justified, as one intending to criticise Mr. Moore, in inquiring into the truth of some of his statement

to me more interesting than Lord Byron's. Lady Byron (if the subject must be discussed) belongs to sentiment and morality (at least as much as Lord Byron); nor is she to be suffered, when compelled to speak, to raise her voice as in a desert, with no friendly voice to respond to her. Lady Byron could not have outlived her sufferings if she had not wound up her fortitude to the high poi

.

ho is no calumniator, from uttering his mind freely with regard to this part of your hero's conduct. I question your philosophy in assuming that all that is noble in Byron's poetry was inconsistent with the possibility of his being devoted to a pure a

both sides of the question; and, if the subject was too delicate for you to consult Lady Byron's confidential friends, you ought to have had nothing to do with

he following note from Lady Byron in reply to an application he made to her, when he was a

g is Lady By

If, on the contrary, I were to enter into a full exposure of the falsehood of the views taken by Mr. Moore, I must detail various matters, which, consistently with my principles and feelings, I cannot under the existing circumstances disclose. I may, perhaps, convince you better of the difficulty of the case by an example: It is

m, e

NOEL

spy, but whose respectability and innocence were vouched for by Lord Byron's own family; and then he pointed

d a correspondence. On the contrary, he sent her a message after that first refusal, stating that he meant to go abroad, and to travel for some years in the East; that he should depart with a heart aching, but not angry; and that he only begged a verbal assurance that she h

as an insensibly increasing correspondence, which ended in her being devotedly attached to him. About that time, I occasionally saw Lord Byron; and though I knew less of him than Mr. Moore, yet I suspe

than either his future bride or myself; but this speaks more fo

ers. Happily, his own candour turns our hostility from himself against his defenders. It was only in wayward and bitter remarks that he misrepresented Lady Byron. He would have defended himself irresistibly if Mr. Moore had left only his acknowledging passages. But Mr. Moore has produced a "Li

t this person, so unsuitably matched to her moody lord, has written verses that would do no discredit t

temper, whose

orrow cheerfu

ld have been-his pride and his idol. I speak not of Lady Byron in the commonplace manner of attesting character: I appeal to the gifted Mrs. Siddons and Joanna Baillie, to Lady Charlemont,

ld have had no influence with Lord Byron; for it vanishes on nearer acquaintance, and has no origin in coldness. All her friends like her frankness the better for being preceded by this reserve. This manner, however, though not the slightest apology for Lord Byron, has been inimical to Lady Byron in her misfortunes. It endears her to her friends; but it piques

talents,-putting even Mr. Moore into the livery of his service,-and who has suborned the favour of almost all women by the beauty of his p

e worse against Lord Byron. I have not read it in your book (for I hate to wade through it); but they tell me that you have not only warily depreciated Lady Byron, but that you have described a lady that would have suite

r, who would have suited Lord Byron," to be as imaginary a being as the woman without a head. A woman to suit Lord Byron! Poo,

g being than the woman whom you have so coldly treated. This was not kicking the dead lion, but wounding the living lamb, who was already bleeding and shorn, even unto the quick. I know, that, collectively speaking, the world

S CAMP

igh-spirited, chivalric man, throwing dow

wded back, thrust down, overwhelmed, his e

emies, and deserted by her friends. All the literary authorities of his day took up against him with energy. Christopher North, professor of moral philosophy in the Edinburgh University, in a fatherly talk in 'The Noct

o my little world, in two somewhat lengthy articles, whic

altogether, only admitting that 'it would have been better had he not printed any co

in a better, more manly, and more gentlemanly spirit, in so far as regards Lady Byron, than Mr. Moore did: and I am sorry he has been deterred from "swim

o-called friends on this occasio

of Chaucer, who, when her husband humiliates her, and treats her as a brute, still accepts all with meek, unquestioning, uncomplaining devotion. He tears her from her children; he treats her with personal abuse; he

ide an

t said is jus

that when Campbell's defence came out

ire, on the part of Lady Byron, to exculpate herself, while yet no adequate information was given. Many, who had r

frailty! Quite evidently she is not a Griselda, but possesse

ge belongs of desiring to exculpate themselves and

Moore had done to some purpose; and Christopher North had informed Lady Byron that her private affairs were discussed, not only with the whisky-toddy of the Noctes Club, but in every drawing-room in May Fair; and declared that th

tice, insisted on attributing C

Byron's leave, and that she did not authorise him to defend her; and, second, that, havi

ed note of Lady Byron; and yet, to this day, Campbell is spoken of by the world as having been Lady Byron's confid

ampbell was concerned, is given in Miss Mar

excused himself by saying it was a mistake of his; that he

his day, and who has taken a stand for which he ought to honour himself, thus forced down and humiliate

in which it is stated, that in an article in 'Blackwood,' January 1825, on Scotch poets, the palm was given to Hogg over

reconciled to Moore, and was always suitably ashamed of having tr

stealth, without Murray's name on the title-page, that had been denounced as a book which no woman should read, and had been given up as a desperate enterprise, now came forth in triumph, with banners flying and dru

orms Christopher North that he means to tender Murray, as Emperor of the North, an interleaved copy {95b} of 'Don Juan,' with illustrations, as the only work of Byron's he cares much about; and Christopher North, professor of moral philosophy in Edinburgh, smiles approval! We are not, after this, surprised

nforms us of another instance of Lord

t to London, where she was so lionised as having been the lady-love of Byron. She was rather fond of speaking

mind the whole course of current literature must bring so many trying questions in regard to the position of her father and mother,-questions that the mother might not answer. That the cruel inconsideratene

fe shall be said in the words of Miss Mart

ed in retirement, changing her abode frequently; partly for the benefit of her child's education and the promotion of her benevolent

ef followed, in the appearance of mortal disease in her only child, her quiet patience stood her in good stead as before. She even found strength to appropri

large and clear quality which could comprehend remote interests in their true proportions, and achieve each aim as perfectly as if it were the only one. Her agents used to say that it was imp

uality of her charity was, in fact, as admirable as its quantity. Her chief aim was the extension and improvement of popular education; but there was no kind of mise

e. Lady Byron wrote to an intermediate person exactly what she thought of the case. Whether the judgment of the sufferer was right or mistaken was nobody's business but her own: this was the first point. Next, a voluntary poverty could never be pitied by anybody: that was the second. But it was painful to others to think of the mortification to benevolent feelings which a

. It was the unconcealable magnitude of her beneficence, and its wise quality, which made her a second time the theme of English conversation in all honest households within

same wise consideration that marked all her practical decisions. She resolved to spend her whole income, seeing how much the world needed help at the moment. Her care was for the existing generation, rather than for a future one, which would have its own friends. She us

her character. We hear much now-and everybody hears it with pleasure-of the spread of education in "common things;" but long before Miss Coutts inherited

for the purposes of the school. A liberal education was afforded to the children of artisans and labourers during the half of the day when they were not employed in the field or garden. The allotments were rented by the boys, who raised and sold produce, which afforded them a considerable yearly profit if they were good workmen. Thos

es the payments she made for children who could not otherwise have entered the school. The establishment flourished steadily till 1852, when the owner of the land required it back for building purposes. During the eighteen years that the Ealing schools were in action, they did a world of good

ame, as such seasons are apt to befall the poor Leicestershire stocking-weavers, Lady Byron fed the children for months together, till they could resume their payments. These scho

ortant consideration, that scores of teachers and trainers have been led into their vocation, and duly prepared for it, by what they saw and learned in her schools. As for the best and the worst of the Ealing boys, the best have, in a few cases, been received into the Battersea Training School, whence they could enter on their caree

al movements, at home and abroad, was as vivid as ever. She watched every step won in philosophy, every discovery in science, every token of social change and progress in every shape. Her mind was as liberal as her heart and hand. No diversity of opinion troubled her: s

d her manifestations on behalf of the antislavery cause in the United States. Her kindness to William and Ellen Craft must be well known there; and it is

ured by partial ossification. She was subject to attacks so serious, that each one, for many years, was expected to be the last. She arranged h

ast interesting to us, as probably to her. We care more to know that her last days were bright in honour, and cheered by the attachment of old friends worthy to pay the duty she deserved.

differed with circumstances. Her shrinking sensitiveness might embarrass one visitor; while another would be charmed with her easy, significant, and vivacious conversation. It depended much on whom she talked with. The abiding certainty was, that she had strength for the hardest of human trials, and the composure which belongs to strength. For the rest, it is

e like this was not the best, the noblest answ