1

clear is, that if Ireland's state is to be judged by anything but the value of her produce, English ideas' have not succeeded there; they have been applied imperfectly and by fits and starts: it is too late now to apply them differently. Mr. Gladstone says try 'Irish ideas,' and then his opponents tauntingly inquire what are 'Irish ideas,' and whether a strong despotism, crushing down all public opinion, an ascendency, in fact, supported as it has never been since we began to make unworthy concessions, is not the most 'Irish idea' of them all. Well: we shall not go back to that repressive system. I think of it whenever I see one of the many Irishmen who, in all our large towns, bring to my mind Lowell's line: 'lo, herc,' said He, 'the images ye have made of Me.' I think of it when I note the overbearing way in which in Ireland really kindly people talk to their inferiors, and when I hear an amiable old lady say 'the Irish are easily cowed if they see you're determined,' and listen to her tale of the clergyman who during the tithe troubles never sat down to table without mattresses up at the windows, but who was never touched because they knew he was a resolute man, and always carried pistols. That system can never be restored; but it has left its marks both on high and low will a land-law, drawn up according to 'Irish ideas,' tend to efface those marks, seeing that they do not seem to wear out very rapidly of themselves? Most of us say 'Yes.' Again, the Irish have been called the Greeks of the West: I decline the doubtful compliment; but let those who make the comparison remember that,

:

though the Pisistratids were model despots, Athens never made such a start as she did during the years which immediately followed their expulsion. The Irish farmer has a good deal against him he has not the experience of his French or Belgian brother: but, when he has finally got rid of 'the ascendency,' when landlords have ceased to talk about 'keeping their hands untied,' I feel sure that he will, somehow, make very fair running in the world's race. We want a land-law then, because landlords' law has drained the country of its strength, leaving the poor and spiritless, and sending off the energetic; because it has created such distrust that the farmers prefer keeping their 14 or 20 millions in banks instead of putting it into the land. But what sort of a land-law will remedy this? Are the circumstances sufficiently like those of Prussia, and is the Prussian land system a success? Anyhow, securities and compensation must be given by law. A Lincolnshire farmer writes to the Times to ask why the Irish want a land-law at all? If he will look at Dixon's Law of the Farm, and see the allowances made by custom in his county- for marling and chalking, over ten years; for lime, over five years; for claying sand or sanding peaty soils, over five years; for oil-cake, over one year, &c.-these allowances are ascertained by two arbitrators, one selected by the outgoing tenant'-he will not need to ask the question again. To remedy by law the want of a 'custom of the country,' and to abolish the evil custom which has ruled instead of it, must be the first step. There will be more to follow.

F.

reason.

The controversy arose in an extraordinary manner. The wife of the great poet left him suddenly, and never would return. She repelled all overtures to reconciliation, yet never would assign to him the She outlived him and his sister, and had herself been dead many years, when a stranger came forward and affirmed that the deceased wife had declared to her the secret, and that it was, that her husband had been guilty of incest with his sister. Even if she had told her this shocking story, surely it ought not to have been published without a particle of proof. It matters little, however, now, whether she indeed did make the accusation which she is represented to have made, or whether it was right or wrong that it should have been disclosed. It has been disclosed; it is declared to have been made; and the great question is what means we have of forming a judgment upon it.

Beyond all doubt Lady Byron did make a statement to Dr. Lushington of so serious a nature as to induce him to declare that she could not be reconciled to Lord

Byron. What that was, she never disclosed to her husband (so that

he never could meet it), though when he was in his grave she published Dr. Lushington's opinion, still withholding the statement upon which it was founded. But perhaps there will be reason to believe that if it were not the same as the present, it arose out of misunderstanding.

She now says, as we are told by Mrs. Stowe, that she learnt from himself that he was living in incest with his sister; that she remained with him a long time afterwards; that he wanted her to connive at it, and that as she would not, he resolved to be rid of her.

It is not worth while, we repeat, to enter into the question whether the deceased wife did state this; because, whether she did or did not, as it is stated that she did, the great question is, if it be true. And we believe that we can show that it is not true; and we can show it by the acts, and words, and conduct of the wife herself. If, indeed, she ever said what Mrs. Stowe declares that she said, she must have forgotten the facts, she must have forgotten what she herself had written and done; and the person who repeats the story has never been at the trouble to see. Let us look at the undoubted facts of Byron's life, especially as to his sister, and as to facts known to Lady Byron.

In 1814, when Byron was engaged to his future wife, his sister (who was several years his senior) had been married for some years, was living with her husband, and was the mother of several children. He mentions her, naturally enough, in his letters to Murray, just as a man would mention his sister, and as though Murray was well acquainted with her.

Lord Lindsay, in his letters on the present subject, has presented some remarks upon Byron's charac

ter made by Sir Walter Scott, in a private letter, which deserve attention.

I had always a strong attachment to that unfortunate, though most richly gifted man, because I thought I saw that his virtues (and he had many) were his own, and his eccentricities the result of an irritable temperament, which sometimes approached nearly to mental disease. Those who are gifted with strong nerves, a regular temper, and habitual self-command are not perhaps aware how much of what they may think virtue they owe to constitution; and such are but too severe judges of men like Byron, whose mind, like a day of alternate storm and sunshine, is all dark shades and stray gleams of light, instead of the twilight grey which illuminates happier though less distinguished mortals. I have some verses written by him on his last birthday; they breathe a spirit of affection towards his wife, and a desire of dying in battle, which seems like an anticipation of his approaching fate.

This, as Lord Lindsay remarks, is the portraiture of Byron's character, by a wise, virtuous and charitable judge;' on the other hand, with regard to Miss Milbanke, it is remarkable that Moore, who was a keen observer and knew something of her, entertained doubts as to her capacity for understanding Lord Byron:

What I meant in hinting a doubt with respect to her did not imply the least impeachment of the perfect amiableness which the world by common consent allow to her, and I only feared that she might have been too perfect, too precisely excellent, too matter-of-fact a paragon for you to coalesce with comfortably, and that a person whose perfection hung in more easy folds about her, whose brightness was softened down by some of those fair defects which best conciliate love,' would have stood a better chance with your good nature.' Byron himself had the same impression of her. Writing to Moore soon after he says:

I certainly did not dream that she was attached to me, which, it seems, she has been. I also thought her of a very cold disposition, in which I was also mistaken; it is a long story, and I won't trouble you with it. As to her virtues, &c., you will

1 Moore's Life of Byron, iii. 208. • Ibid. iii. 117.

VOL. LXXX.-NO. CCCCLXXIX.

hear enough of them. It is well that one of us has such fame, for there is a sad deficit in the morale of that article on my part.2

However, there is no doubt that Byron sincerely esteemed her, and there are many passages in his letters which show a real regard for her and a sense of the obligations incumbent upon him. He writes in his usual playful tone:

I must, of course, reform-thoroughly and seriously. If I can contribute to her happiness, I shall secure my own. She is so good a person, that-that-in short, I wish I was a better.3

Now, there is no reason on earth to doubt that this was the man's sincere feeling at the time. He was, be it observed, but a young man; he was aware he had been wild; he felt a respect for his intended wife; he really felt half-ashamed of himself; he meant to reform, and had

a sincere intention to endeavour to live happily with her. Writing to a female friend, he says, 'I am very much in love: she has no fault ex

cept being a great deal too good for

me.'

4

On January 2, 1815, Byron was married, and he passed the three months which ensued, in the country, with his wife. After the honeymoon he went to her father's, living there two months. It is evident from his notes to Moore that, though (as naturally would be the case) he found country life a little dull and his wife's relations somewhat 'slow,' yet the newly married couple were happy together. Little circumstances show it. When he sends Moore a copy of verses, they are (the biographer observes) in Lady Byron's handwriting. In March he writes:

I have been very comfortable here; they have been very kind and hospitable, and I like them and the place vastly; and I hope they will live many happy years. Bell is in health and unvaried good humour and behaviour.S

At the end of March 1815 they came to town. In December their child was born. In January 1816 the separation took place, that is to say, just a year after their marriage. Let it be observed that, after leaving the country, where Byron and his wife had lived very happily, they were only together nine months before the separation. It is further to be observed that his letters up to near the end of that period bear internal evidence of his living happily with her. They contain allusions to her always marked with kindness. He alludes to her approaching confinement, and anticipates the happiness of being a parent. On the last day of October he mentions her progress,' and looks forward with evident delight to the birth of a child. Moore, who received familiar letters from him constantly, and knew him so well as to be able to discern the first indication of anything unpleasant, observed no such indication until the letter of January 5, 1816, announSomecing his child's arrival.

6

thing had then occurred, for his tone was quite different, and Moore observed it. There was an absence, Moore detected, of the tone of happiness which had pervaded his former letters. All of a sudden Moore is struck with the change. It. is absolutely false to represent that there were any previous indications of a mind brooding on guilt. On the contrary all is cheerful and happy until this sudden cause. Just what would happen if some unfortunate misunderstanding had taken place between Byron and his wife. At all events it is clear that the matter arose within some short space of time.

Now what were the circumstances which occurred at that time? There are facts as to Byron's condition and conduct at the time which are beyond a doubt, and which will give

1 Moore, iii. 211;

the key to the whole history. A few months after he came to town. his creditors came upon him. He was overwhelmed with pecuniary difficulties, and driven to despera tion by the most ignominious miseries; there having been (as Moore says) no less than eight on nine executions in his house during the period of a year! Any one can conceive the probable effect of this upon a man of Byron's nature. His marriage aggravated the position:

His marriage (from the reputation of his wife being an heiress) was at once a signal for all the arrears of a long accumulating state of embarrassment to explode upon duns, and his house nine times during the him; his door was almost daily beset by year in possession of the bailiffs.1

We may easily conceive the annoy ance and vexation all this would naturally occasion to Lady Byron. And unhappily under this excitement Byron was led to acts of violence which at times looked like madness. His biographer mentions some; for instance

In a fit of vexation and rage, brought on by some of these humiliating embarrassments to which he was almost daily a prey, he furiously dashed the watch upon the hearth, and ground it to pieces among the ashes with the poker.

to

We can conjecture without difficulty the effect all this was likely to have upon his wife. A woman of a cold correct temperament, unable make allowances, would be inex pressibly revolted by all these ebullitions of violence, and often angry altercations would arise betwee them, caused by her coldness and his misery-their joint wretched ness, and her just reproaches. A quarrel under such circumstances was perfectly natural.

She consulted Baillie as to whether her husband was sane. And she her self says that she made up her mind soon after that if he were would never return to him. But while that point was undecided she left

2 Ibid. iii. 215.