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to the Editor any Books or Publications intended for notice.

OCT. 15, 1869.

OUR ENGLISH CORRESPONDENCE,

LONDON, September 15, 1869.

A GENERAL feeling of indignation pervades all literary and educated classes at Mrs. Beecher Stowe's betrayal of Lady Byron's secrets. The universal judgment is, there is no excuse for this breach of confidence. Since Willis reported for the public press dinner-table conversations in houses where he was hospitably received, public opinion has not been so moved here. Amid the mass of replies which have seen the light, I select two which seem to me to merit a place in the LITERARY GAZETTE, even though in giving them room I am obliged to postpone to another letter the latest intelligence from book-shops and press-rooms. The first reply I quote is that made by the solicitors of Lady Byron and her family :

whether she would undertake a redaction of Lady Byron's married history, but only as to the policy of publishing such a history at all. Secondly. Mrs. Stowe, on her own admission, returned to Lady Byron the brief memorandum paper which had been intrusted to her, with the statement of her opinion that Lady Byron would be entirely justifiable in leaving the truth to be disclosed after her death, and recommended that all facts necessary should be put in the hands of some persons to be so published. Thirdly. Lady Byron did, by her last will and testament, executed a few days only before her decease, bequeath to three persons as trustees all her manuscripts, to be by them first sealed up, afterwards deposited in a bank in the names of such trustees, and she directed that no one else, however nearly connected with her, should upon any plea whatsoever be allowed to inspect such documents, which the trustees were alone to make use of as they might judge to be best for the interests of her grandchildren. Mrs. Stowe is not one of these three. Her paper is entirely gratuitous and unauthorized. It is, as we have said, not consistent with her own counsel; it is an offence against Lady Byron's dying wishes, and the authoress has written in utter disregard of the feelings of those grandchildren of whom she speaks in a vague, fulsome way, as 'some of the best and noblest of mankind.' The appearance of the volumes about Lord Byron by the Countess Guiccioli is alleged by Mrs. Stowe as the main reason which

ron's descendants, her personal and trusted friends in this country, suffer the slanders of the Countess Guiccioli to pass uncontradicted-for, to use Mrs. Stowe's own expression, of what value was the outcry of 'the mistress' against the wife?-their silence should surely have led Mrs. Stowe to hesitate before giving to the world a statement which, however it may affect the memories of the dead, must inevitably inflict much pain on the living. Lady Byron's own statement' is in the possession of those who love her memory too well to make a rash use of it, and if the world is ever to learn the true story of Lady Byron's life it will learn it from them. It would have been in better taste if Mrs. Stowe and the editor of Macmillan's Magazine' had imitated the 'religious silence' which the latter so much commends in the case of Lady Byron. Meanwhile, Lady Byron's descendants and representatives entirely and absolutely disclaim all countenance of Mrs. Stowe's article, which has been published without their privity or consent. We are, etc.

"As the solicitors of the descendants and representatives of the late Lady Noel Byron, for whose family we have acted for upwards of half a century, we request your permission to publish in the columns of 'The Times,' the following observations relative to an article which has appeared in 'Macmillan's Magazine.' The article in question is entitled The True Story of Lady Byron's Life,' and Mrs. H. B. Stowe is announced to be the writer of it. Of the paper itself we should probably have abstained from taking any public notice, if it had appeared in a less respectable journal than 'Macmillan,' or if even in this periodical the authoress had been allowed to tell her story without editorial preface or comment. The editor of 'Mac-induced her to publish her story; but if Lady Bymillan,' however, has not only admitted Mrs. Stowe's article, but has prefixed to it a note, in which he authoritatively proclaims to the world that the paper on Lady Byron's life and relations to Lord Byron is the complete and authentic statement of the whole circumstances of that disastrous affair.' Nay, more: that this paper is, in fact, Lady Byron's own statement of the reasons which forced her to separation which she so long resisted.' Again, the editor states that the contribution of Mrs. Stowe supplies 'evidence at once and direct' of Lady Byron's history. We, as the family solicitors, beg most distinctly to state that the article is not a complete' or 'authentic statement' of the facts connected with the separation, that it cannot be regarded as Lady Byron's own statement, and that it does not involve (evolve ?) any direct evidence on Lady Byron's history. Instead of direct evidence, Mrs. Stowe has nothing to communicate but her recollections of a conversation thirteen years ago, and her impressions of a manuscript which she states that Lady Byron gave her to peruse, and which, according to her showing, she read under very great excitement. These circumstances probably account for several obvious errors into which Mrs. Stowe has fallen, such as assigning two years instead of thirteen months as the period during which Lady Byron resided under the same roof with her husband, and similar inaccuracies, to which, for the present purpose, it is unnecessary to allude. Without for a moment conceding that Mrs. Stowe's narrative contains a complete account of Lady Byron's relations with her husband, we must protest against it as being professedly-first, a most gross breach of the trust and confidence stated to have been reposed in her; second, as inconsistent with her own recommendation to Lady Byron; and third, as an ignorant violation (at least we shall, in charity, suppose Mrs. Stowe to be ignorant) of the express terms of Lady Byron's last will and testament. First, as relates to a breach of trust. Mrs. Stowe states that she was consulted in an interview which, to use her own words, had almost the solemnity of a death-bed,' not as to

6

WHARTON & FORDS."

Here is an extremely interesting letter from Lord Lindsay: "I have waited in expectation of a categorical denial of the horrible charge brought by Mrs. Beecher Stowe against Lord Byron and his sister on the alleged authority of the late Lady Byron. Such denial has been only indirectly given by the letter of Messrs. Wharton and Fords. That letter is sufficient to prove that Lady Byron never contemplated the use made of her name, and that her descendants and representatives disclaim any countenance of Mrs. B. Stowe's article; but it does not specifically meet Mrs. Stowe's allegation that Lady Byron, in conversing with her thirteen years ago, affirmed the charge now before us. It remains open, therefore, to a scandal-loving world to credit the calumny through the advantage of this flaw, involuntarily, I believe, in the answer produced against it. My object in addressing you is to supply that deficiency by proving that what is now stated on Lady Byron's supposed authority is at variance in all respects with what she stated immediately after the separation, when everything

OCT. 15, 1869.

6

was fresh in her memory in relation to the time | I reckoned it a bad jest, and told him so that my during which, according to Mrs. B. Stowe, she be- opinions of him were very different from his of lieved that Byron and his sister were living together himself, otherwise he would not find me by his side. in guilt. I publish this evidence with reluctance, He laughed it over when he saw me appear hurt, but in obedience to that higher obligation of justice, and I forgot what had passed till forced to remember to the voiceless and defenceless dead, which bids it. I believe he was pleased with me, too, for a me break through a reserve that otherwise I should little while. I suppose it had escaped his memory have held sacred. The Lady Byron of 1818 would, that I was his wife.' But she described the hapI am certain, have sanctioned my doing so had she piness they enjoyed to have been unequal and foreseen the present unparalleled occasion, and the perturbed. Her situation in a short time might bar that the conditions of her will present (as I have entitled her to some tenderness, but she made infer from Messrs.. Wharton and Fords' letter) no claim on him for any. He sometimes reproached against any fuller communication. Calumnies such her for the motives that had induced her to marry as these sink deep, and with rapidity, into the pub- him-all was vanity, the vanity of Miss Milbanke lic mind, and are not easily eradicated. The fame carrying the point of reforming Lord Byron! He of one of our greatest poets, and that of the kindest always knew her inducements, her pride shut her and truest, and most constant friend that Byron eyes to his; he wished to build up his character ever had, is at stake; and it will not do to wait for and his fortunes; both were somewhat deranged; revelations from the fountain-head, which are not she had a high name and would have a fortune promised, and possibly may never reach us. The worth his attention-let her look to that for his late Lady Anne Barnard, who died in 1825, a con- motives!' 'Oh, Byron, Byron,' she said, 'how you temporary and friend of Burke, Windham, Dundas, desolate me!' He would then accuse himself of and a host of the wise and good of that generation, being mad, and throw himself on the ground in a and remembered in letters as the authoress of frenzy, which she believed was affected to conceal 'Auld Robin Gray,' had known the late Lady By- the coldness and malignity of his heart-an affecron from infancy, and took a warm interest in her, tation which at that time never failed to meet with holding Lord Byron in corresponding repugnance, the utmost commiseration. I could find by some not to say prejudice, in consequence of what she implications, not followed up by me lest she might believed to be his harsh and cruel treatment of her have condemned herself afterwards for her involyoung friend. I transcribe the following passages, untary disclosures, that he soon attempted to corand a letter from Lady Byron herself (written in rupt her principles both with respect to her own 1818) from a ricordi, or private family memoirs, in conduct and her latitude for his. She saw the Lady Anne's autograph, now before me. I include precipice on which she stood, and kept his sister the letter because, although treating only in gen- with her as much as possible. He returned in the eral terms of the matter and the causes of the se- evenings from the haunts of vice, where he made paration, it affords collateral evidence bearing her understand he had been, with manners so prostrictly upon the point of the credibility of the fligate! Oh, the wretch !' said I, 'and had he no charge now in question :moments of remorse?' 'Sometimes he appeared to have them. One night, coming home from one of his lawless parties, he saw me so indignantly collected, and bearing all with such a 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. I could not-no-I could not forgive him such injuries. He had lost me forever!' tonished 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, except that varied were his methods of rendering her wretched, even to the last. When her lovely little child was born, and it was laid beside its mother on the bed, and he was informed he might see his daughter,' after gazing at it with an exulting smile, this was the ejaculation that broke from him, 'Oh! what an implement of torture have I acquired in you!' such he rendered it by his eyes and manner, keeping her in a perpetual alarm for its safety when in his presence. All this reads madder than I believe he was; but she had not then made up her mind to disbe lieve his pretended insanity, and conceived it best to intrust her secret with the excellent Dr. Baillie, telling him all that seemed to regard the state of her husband's mind, and letting his advice regulate her conduct. Baillie doubted of his derangement, but, as he did not reckon his own opinion infallible, he wished her to take precautions as if her husband was so. He recommended her going to the country, but to give him no suspicion of her intentions of remaining there, and for a short time to show no

"The separation of Lord and Lady Byron astonished the world, which believed him a reformed man as to his habits, and a becalmed man as to his remorses. He had written nothing that appeared after his marriage till the famous Fare thee well,' which had the power of compelling those to pity the writer who were not well aware that he was not the unhappy person he affected to be. Lady Byron's misery was whispered soon after her marriage, and his ill-usage; but no word transpired, no sign escaped from her. She gave birth shortly to a daughter, and when she went, as soon as she was recovered, on a visit to her father, taking her little Ada with her, no one knew that it was to return to her lord no more. At that period a severe fit of illness had confined me to bed for two months. I heard of Lady Byron's distress; of the pains he took to give a harsh impression of her character to the world. I wrote to her, 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 a young man of genius and romance (as she supposed) happy! They had not been an hour in the carriage which conveyed them from the church, when, breaking into a malignant sneer, '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, who listened, was astonished. 'How could you go on after this,' said I, 'my dear; why did you not return to your father's?''Because I had not a conception he was in earnest; because

As

OCT. 15, 1869.

coldness in her letters till she could better ascer- decay of my memory, you will not wonder if there tain his state. She went-regretting, as she told are still moments when the association of feelings me, to wear any semblance but the truth. A short which arose from them, soften and sadden my time disclosed the story to the world. He acted thoughts. But I have not thanked you, dearest the part of a man driven to despair by her inflex- Lady Anne, for your kindness in regard to a prinible resentment and by the arts of a governess cipal object-that of rectifying false impressions. (once a servant in the family) who hated him. II trust you understand my wishes, which never will give you,' proceeds Lady Anne, 'a few paragraphs transcribed from one of Lady Byron's own letters to me. It is sorrowful to think that in a very little time this young and amiable creature, wise, patient, and feeling, will have her character mistaken by every one who reads Byron's works. To rescue her from this I preserved her letters, and when she afterwards expressed a fear that anything of her writing should ever fall into hands to injure him (I suppose she meant by publication) I safely assured her that it never should. But here this letter shall be placed, a sacred record in her favor, unknown to herself::

were to injure Lord Byron in any way; for, though
he would not suffer me to remain his wife, he can-
not prevent me from continuing his friend; and it
was from considering myself as such that I silenced
the accusations by which my own conduct might
have been more fully justified. It is not necessary
to speak ill of his heart in general; it is sufficient
that to me it was hard and impenetrable-that my
own must have broken before his could have been
touched. I would rather represent this as my mis-
fortune, than as his guilt; but, surely, that misfor-
tune is not to be made my crime! Such are my
feelings; you will judge how to act. His allusions
to me in Childe Harold are cruel and cold, but with
such a semblance as to make me appear so, and to
attract all sympathy to himself. It is said in this
poem, that hatred of him will be taught as a lesson
to his child. I might appeal to all who have ever
heard me speak of him, and still more to my own
heart, to witness that there has been no moment
when I have remembered injury otherwise than af-
fectionately and sorrowfully. It is not my duty to
give way to hopeless and wholly unrequited affec-
tion; but, so long as I live, my chief struggle will
probably be not to remember him too kindly. I do
not seek the sympathy of the world, but I wish to
be known by those whose opinion is valuable, and
whose kindness is dear to me. Among snch, my
dear Lady Anne, you will ever be remembered by
your truly affectionate,
A. BYRON."

"I am a very incompetent judge of the impression which the last canto of Childe Harold may produce on the minds of indifferent readers. It contains the usual trace of a conscience restlessly awake, though his object has been too long to aggravate its burden, as if it could thus be oppressed into eternal stupor. I will hope, as you do, that it survives for his ultimate good. It was the acuteness of his remorse, impenitent in its character, which so long seemed to demand from my compassion to spare every semblance of reproach, every look of grief, which might have said to his conscience, 'You have made me wretched.' I am decidedly of opinion that he is responsible. He has wished to be thought partially deranged, or on the brink of it, to perplex observers and prevent them from tracing effects to their real causes through all the intricacies of his conduct. I was, as I told you, at one time the dupe of his acted insanity, and clung to the former delusions in regard to the motives that concerned me personally, till the whole system was laid bare. He is the absolute monarch of words, and uses them, as Buonaparte did lives, for conquest, without more regard to their intrinsic value, considering them only as ciphers which must derive all their import from the situation in which he places them and the ends to which he adapts them with such consummate skill. Why, then, you will say, does he not employ them to give a better color to his own character? Because he is too good an actor to overact or to assume a moral garb which it would be easy to slip off. In regard to his poetry, egotism is the vital principle of his imagination, which it is difficult for him to kindle on any subject with which his own character and interests are not identified; but by the introduction of fictitious incidents, by change of scene or time, he has enveloped his poetical disclosures in a system impenetrable except to a very few, and his constant desire of creating a sensation makes him not averse to be the object of wonder and curiosity, even though accompanied by some dark and vague suspicions. "Fletcher's account of poor Byron is extremely Nothing has contributed more to the misunder-interesting. I had always a strong attachment to standing of his real character than the lonely that unfortunate, though most richly gifted man, grandeur in which he shrouds it, and his affectation because I thought I saw that his virtues (and he of being above mankind, when he exists almost in had many) were his own, and his eccentricities the their voice. The romance of his sentiments is result of an irritable temperament, which sometimes another feature of this mask of state. I know no approached nearly to mental disease. Those who one more habitually destitute of that enthusiasm are gifted with strong nerves, a regular temper, and he so beautifully expresses, and to which he can habitual self-command, are not perhaps aware how work up his fancy chiefly by contagion. I had much of what they think virtue they owe to constiheard he was the best of brothers, the most gene- tution; and such are but too severe judges of men rous of friends, and I thought such feelings only like Byron, whose mind, like a day of alternate required to be warmed and cherished into more storms and sunshine, is all dark shades and stray diffusive benevolence. Though these opinions are gleams of light, instead of the twilight gray which eradicated, and could never return but with the illuminates happier though less distinguished mor

"It is the province of your readers and of the world at large to judge between the two testimonies now before them-Lady Byron's in 1816 and 1818, and that put forward in 1869 by Mrs. B. Stowe, as communicated by Lady Byron thirteen years ago. In the face of the evidence now given, positive, negative, and circumstantial, there can be but two alternatives in this case-either Mrs. B. Stowe must have entirely misunderstood Lady Byron, and been thus led into error and misstatement, or we must conclude that, under the pressure of a life-long and secret sorrow, Lady Byron's mind had become clouded with an hallucination in respect of the particular point in question. The reader will admire the noble but severe character displayed in Lady Byron's letter; but those who keep in view what her first impressions were, as above recorded, may probably place a more lenient interpretation than hers upon some of the incidents alleged to Byron's discredit. I shall conclude with some remarks upon his character, written shortly after his death by a wise, virtuous, and charitable judge, the late Sir Walter Scott, likewise in a letter to Lady Anne Barnard :—

OCT. 15, 1869.