This ruin Lady Byron prevented by her utter silence
and great self-command. Mrs. Leigh never lost
position. Lady Byron never so varied in her
manner towards her as to excite the suspicions even
of her confidential old servant.
To protect Mrs. Leigh effectually, it must have been
necessary to continue to exclude even her own mother
from the secret, as we are assured she did at first;
for, had she told Lady Milbanke, it is not possible
that so high-spirited a woman could have restrained
herself from such outward expressions as would at
least have awakened suspicion. There was no
resource but this absolute silence.
Lady Blessington, in her last conversation with Lord
Byron, thus describes the life Lady Byron was leading.
She speaks of her as ’wearing away her youth
in almost monastic seclusion, questioned by some,
appreciated by few, seeking consolation alone in the
discharge of her duties, and avoiding all external
demonstrations of a grief that her pale cheek and
solitary existence alone were vouchers for.’
{49}
The main object of all this silence may be imagined,
if we remember that if Lord Byron had not died,—had
he truly and deeply repented, and become a thoroughly
good man, and returned to England to pursue a course
worthy of his powers, there was on record neither
word nor deed from his wife to stand in his way.
HIS PLACE WAS KEPT IN SOCIETY, ready for him to return
to whenever he came clothed and in his right mind.
He might have had the heart and confidence of his
daughter unshadowed by a suspicion. He might
have won the reverence of the great and good in his
own lands and all lands. That hope, which was
the strong support, the prayer of the silent wife,
it did not please God to fulfil.
Lord Byron died a worn-out man at thirty-six.
But the bitter seeds he had sown came up, after his
death, in a harvest of thorns over his grave; and
there were not wanting hands to use them as instruments
of torture on the heart of his widow.
We have traced the conspiracy of Lord Byron against
his wife up to its latest device. That the reader’s
mind may be clear on the points of the process, we
shall now briefly recapitulate the documents in the
order of time.
I. March 17, 1816.—While negotiations
for separation were pending,—’Fare
thee well, and if for ever.’
While writing these pages, we have received from England
the testimony of one who has seen the original draught
of that ‘Fare thee well.’ This original
copy had evidently been subjected to the most careful
and acute revision. Scarcely two lines that
were not interlined, scarcely an adjective that was
not exchanged for a better; showing that the noble
lord was not so far overcome by grief as to have forgotten
his reputation. (Found its way to the public prints
through the imprudence of a friend.)
