My Recollections of Lord Byron
"They say we ought not to speak evil of the dead; that is very well, but
as this maxim was not observed toward Lord Byron, I also will repeat
what I have heard said of his wife--I mean that the blame was hers--that
her temper was so bad, her manners so harsh and disagreeable, that no
one could endure her society; that she was avaricious, wicked, scolding;
that people hated to wait upon her or live near her. How dared this lady
to marry a man so distinguished, and then to treat him ill and
tyrannically? Truly it is inconceivable. If she were charitable for the
poor (as some one has pretended), she certainly wanted Christian
charity. And I also am wanting in it perhaps; but, when I think of her,
I lose all patience."
On announcing to Mrs. B---- the sequel of her narrative, she says:--
"It contains the history of the two days that passed after my first
interview with him whom I ever found the _noblest and most generous_ of
men, whose memory lives in my heart like a brilliant star amid the dark
and gloomy clouds that have often surrounded me in life; it is the
single ray of sunshine illumining my remembrances of the past."
Miss S---- had not forgotten a look, a word, not even the material
external part of things; and when Mrs. B---- expressed her astonishment
at this lively recollection,--
"All that concerned Lord Byron," said she, "has been retained by my
heart. I recall his words, gestures, looks, now, as if it had all taken
place yesterday. I believe this is owing to his great and beautiful
qualities, such a rare assemblage of which I never saw in any other
human being.
"There was so much truth in all he said, so much simplicity in all he
did, that every thing became indelibly engraven on heart and memory."
After having said that Lord Byron gave her the best counsels, and among
others that of living with her mother ("not knowing," she adds, "to what
it would expose me"), she continues:
"You say, madam, there is no cause for astonishment that I so admire and
respect Lord Byron. In all he said, or advised, there was so much right
reason, goodness and judgment far above his age, that one remained
enthralled."
On sending the conclusion of her history to Mrs. B----, she says:--
"You who knew Lord Byron, will not be surprised that I loved him so
much. But a woman does not pass through such a trial with impunity. On
returning home, I threw myself on my knees and tried to pray, imploring
Heaven for strength and patience. But the sound of his voice, his looks,
pierced to my very heart, my soul felt torn asunder; I could not even
weep. For two years and a half I was no longer myself. A man of high
position offered me his hand. He would have placed me in the first
society; but he wished for love, and I could only offer him friendship."
And, finally, when the reception of the concluding part of her narrative
was acknowledged, she further added:--
"I am very glad that the history of my heart appears to you a precious
document for proving the virtues of one whom I have ever looked upon as
the _first of men, as well for his qualities as for his genius_."
Her last letter ends exactly as did her first:--"_Ah! there never was
but one Lord Byron!_" In her narrative, which is quite as natural in
style as her letters, no detail of her interviews with Lord Byron has
escaped her memory.[88]
We have already seen how, in a moment of despair, the young girl, full
of confidence in Lord Byron, whom she considered as one of the noblest
characters that ever existed, thought she might go and ask his
protection. A fashionable young man, and still unmarried, the reports
current about him might well lead to the belief that his house was not
quite the temple of order. She was surprised on knocking timidly at his
door, on explaining to the _valet-de-chambre_ who opened it, her great
desire to speak to Lord Byron, to see Fletcher listen to her with a
civil, compassionate air, that predisposed her in favor of his master.
He conducted her into a small room, where all Lord Byron's servants were
assembled, and there also she was greatly surprised at the order and
simplicity in the establishment of the young lord.
"I never saw servants more polite and respectful," says she. "Fletcher
and the coachman remained standing, only the old house-keeper kept her
seat."
Miss S---- had dried her tears when admitted into Lord Byron's presence.
"Surprise and admiration," says she, "were the first emotions I
experienced on seeing him. He was only twenty-six years of age, but he
looked still younger. I had been told that he was gloomy, severe, and
often out of temper: _I saw, on the contrary, a most attractive
physiognomy, wearing a look of charming sweetness._"
Miss S---- soon found cause to appreciate Lord Byron's delicacy. She
began by excusing herself for having come to him, saying she had taken
this step in consequence of family misfortunes. She remained standing.
After some moments of silence, during which Lord Byron appeared to
interrogate memory, he said:--
"Pray be seated; I will not hear another word until you are. You appear
to have an independent spirit, and this step must have cost you much."
Having already partly seen the results of this interview, we refrain
from giving further details here, although they are full of interest on
account of the goodness, generosity, and delicacy they reveal.
Miss S---- endeavored to draw his portrait, but the pencil dropped from
her hands:--
"I feel that unless I could portray his look, and repeat his words as
pronounced by him, I could not even do justice to his actions."
She does it, however in a few bold touches which, on account of their
truth, we have quoted in the chapter entitled _Portrait_ of Lord Byron.
After having said that it was impossible to see finer eyes, a more
beautiful expression of face, manners more graceful, hands more
exquisite, or to hear such a tone of voice, she adds:--
"All that formed such an assemblage of seductive qualities, that never
before or since have I remarked any man who could be compared to him.
What particularly struck me was the serene, gentle dignity of his
manner. Lady Blessington says, that she did not find in Lord Byron quite
the dignity she had expected; but surely, then, she does not understand
what dignity is? Indeed she did not understand Lord Byron at all. With
me he was unaffected, amiable, and natural. The hours passed in his
society I look upon as the brightest of my life, and even now I think of
them with an effusion of gratitude and admiration, rather increased than
diminished by time."
Lord Byron saw directly that Miss S---- had a noble nature. It must have
been such; it must even have been, so to say, _incorruptible_, since she
had been able to preserve her purity of soul and simplicity in the
position to which she was, despite her surroundings and with such a
mother. Lord Byron, seeing her so unprotected and ill-advised, took an
interest in her, and instead of profiting by her isolation, resolved to
save her. With virtue superior to his years, he opposed the best
counsels to the more than imprudent projects of a mother who thought
only of repairing her fortune by whatever means. Miss S----, attracted
toward him with her whole heart and soul, begged her young and noble
benefactor to come and see her, if it were only once a month. "I should
be so happy, my lord, if you would sometimes grant me the favor of a
visit, and guide my life," said she to him.
But Lord Byron had perceived the excited state of feeling in which the
young girl was. Besides, he was betrothed, and did not wish to expose
her and himself to the consequences. Honor and prudence alike counselled
a refusal, and he refused.
"My dear child," answered he, "I can not. I will tell you my present
position, and you will understand that I ought not: I am going to
marry."
"At these words," said she, "my heart sunk within me, as if a piece of
lead had fallen on my chest. At the same instant I experienced an acute
pain in it. It seemed as if a chilly steel had pierced me. A horrible,
indescribable sensation shook my whole frame. For some moments I could
not possibly articulate a single word. Lord Byron looked at me with an
expression full of interest, for indeed I must have changed
countenance."
Lord Byron, already aware that his image was graven on this young heart,
and might become dangerous to her, then understood still better the
silent ravages that love must be making there. He pitied her more than
ever, he felt the necessity of refusal and sacrifice, and, from that
moment, all struggle between will and desire ceased.
He also refused, after some hesitation, to recommend her to the Duke of
Devonshire.
"You are young and pretty," said he, "and that is sufficient to place
any man, wishing to serve you, in a false position. You know how the
world understands a young man's friendship and interest for a young
woman. No; my name must not appear in a recommendation to the duke.
Don't think me disobliging, therefore. On the contrary, I wish you to
make an appeal to Devonshire, but without naming me; I have told you my
reasons for refusing to be openly your advocate."
"Another time," adds she, "I ventured to express the wish of being
presented to the future Lady Byron. But he again answered by a refusal.
'Though amiable and unsuspicious,' said he, 'persons about Lady Byron
might put jealous suspicions, devoid of foundation, into her head.'"
Thus equally by what he refused her and what he granted her, he proved
his great generosity, the elevation of his character, his virtuous
abnegation and self-control.
Although Miss S---- was then in an humble and humiliating position, she
had received a fine classical and intellectual education from her uncle,
who was a professor at Cambridge. Her natural wit, the _naivete_ and
sincerity of her ideas, uncontaminated by worldly knowledge, were
appreciated by Lord Byron. He understood her worth, despite the
difficulties that made virtue of greater merit in her, and
notwithstanding appearances that were against her; and he showed
interest in her conversation during the different interviews she
obtained from him. He talked to her of literature, the news of the day;
and even had the goodness to read with indulgence and approbation the
verses she had composed. One day, among others, she had the happiness of
remaining with him till a late hour, and when his carriage was
announced, to take him to a _soiree_, he had her conducted home in the
same carriage.
"Oh! how delightful that evening was to me," says she. "Lord Byron's
abode at the Albany recalled some collegiate dwelling, so perfectly
quiet was it, though situated at the West End, the noisiest quarter of
the metropolis. His conversation so varied and delightful, the purity of
his English, his refined pronunciation, all offered such a contrast even
with the most distinguished men I had had the good fortune to meet, that
I really learned what happiness was."
These conversations afforded her the opportunity of knowing and admiring
him still more. In conversing on literature, she was able to appreciate
his modesty by the praises he lavished on the talents of others, and by
the slight importance he attached to his own; and also his love of truth
when, _a propos_ of some book of travels she was praising, he told her
that he preferred a simple but true tale of voyages to all the pomp of
lies. In speaking about an adventure in high life that was then making a
great noise in England, she was able to appreciate his high sentiments
of delicacy and honor. When the conversation fell on religion, she had
the happiness of hearing him declare he abhorred atheism and unbelief;
and when his childhood was touched upon, of hearing him say that it had