‘one continued struggle between that instinct of genius, which was for ever drawing him back into the lonely laboratory of self, and those impulses of passion, ambition, and vanity, which again hurried him off into the crowd, and entangled him in its interests.’
Moore assures us that most of Byron’s so-called love-affairs were as transitory as the imaginings that gave them birth.
‘It may be questioned,’ says Moore, ‘whether his heart had ever much share in such passions. Actual objects there were, in but too great number, who, as long as the illusion continued, kindled up his thoughts and were the themes of his song. But they were little more than mere dreams of the hour. There was but one love that lived unquenched through all’—Byron’s love for Mary Chaworth.
Every other attachment faded away, but that endured to the end of his stormy life.
In speaking of Byron’s affection for his sister, Moore, who knew all that had been said against Augusta Leigh and Byron, and had read the ‘Memoirs,’ remarked:
‘In a mind sensitive and versatile as [Byron’s], long habits of family intercourse might have estranged, or at least dulled, his natural affection for his sister; but their separation during youth left this feeling fresh and untired. That he was himself fully aware of this appears from a passage in one of his letters: “My sister is in Town, which is a great comfort; for, never having been much together, we are naturally more attached to each other.” His very inexperience in such ties made the smile of a sister no less a novelty than a charm to him; and before the first gloss of this newly awakened sentiment had time to wear off, they were again separated, and for ever.’
When the parting came it was bitter indeed, for she was, says Moore,
‘almost the only person from whom he then parted with regret. Those beautiful and tender verses, “Though the day of my destiny’s over,” were now his parting tribute to her who, through all this bitter trial, had been his sole consolation.’
Enough has been said to show what kind of woman Augusta was, and it is difficult to understand by what process of reasoning Lord Lovelace persuaded himself that she could have been guilty of the atrocious crime which he lays to her charge. We entirely concur with Mrs. Villiers, when she wrote to Augusta Leigh (in September, 1816): ‘I consider you the victim to the most infernal plot that has ever entered the heart of man to conceive.’
We must at the same time frankly admit that Augusta, in order to screen Mary Chaworth, did all she could do to keep Lady Byron under a false impression. She seems to have felt so secure in the knowledge of her own innocence that she might afford to allow Lady Byron to think as ill of her as she pleased.