Byron: The Last Phase

by Richard Edgcumbe

With the object of proving Augusta’s guilt, the whole correspondence between her and Lady Byron from June 27, 1819, to the end of the following January has been printed in ‘Astarte.’

We have carefully examined it without finding anything that could convict Augusta and Byron. It seems clear that Mrs. Leigh began this correspondence with an ulterior object in view. She wished to win back Lady Byron’s confidence, and to induce her to make some arrangement by which the Leigh children would benefit at Lady Byron’s death, in the event of Byron altering the will he had already made in their favour. She began by asking Lady Byron’s advice as to how she was to answer the ‘Dearest Love’ letter. Lady Byron gave her two alternatives. Either she must tell her brother that, so long as his idea of her was associated with the most guilty feelings, it was her duty to break off all communication; or, if Augusta did not approve of that plan, then it was her duty to treat Byron’s letter with the silence of contempt. To this excellent advice Augusta humbly replied that, if she were to reprove her brother for the warmth of his letter, he might be mortally offended, in which case her children, otherwise unprovided for, would fare badly. But Mrs. Leigh was too diplomatic to convey that meaning in plain language. Writing June 28, 1819, she says:

‘I will tell you what now passes in my mind. As to the gentler expedient you propose, I certainly lean to it, as the least offensive; but, supposing he suspects the motive, and is piqued to answer: “I wrote you such a letter of such a date: did you receive it?” What then is to be done? I could not reply falsely—and might not that line of conduct, acknowledged, irritate? This consideration would lead me, perhaps preferably, to adopt the other, as most open and honest (certainly to any other character but his), but query whether it might not be most judicious as to its effects; and at the same time acknowledging that his victim was wholly in his power, as to temporal good,[76] and leaving it to his generosity whether to use that power or not. There seem so many reasons why he should for his own sake abstain for the present from gratifying his revenge, that one can scarcely think he would do so—unless insane. It would surely be ruin to all his prospects, and those of a pecuniary nature are not indifferent if others are become so.

‘If really and truly he feels, or fancies he feels, that passion he professes, I have constantly imagined he might suppose, from his experience of the weakness of disposition of the unfortunate object, that, driven from every other hope or earthly prospect, she might fly to him! and that as long as he was impressed with that idea he would persevere in his projects. But, if he considered that hopeless, he might desist, for otherwise he must lose everything but his revenge, and what good would that do him?

‘After all, my dearest A., if you cannot calculate the probable consequences, how should I presume to do so! To be sure, the gentler expedient might be the safest, with so violent and irritable a disposition, and at least for a time act as a palliative—and who knows what changes a little time might produce or how Providence might graciously interpose! With so many reasons to wish to avoid extremities (I mean for the sake of others), one leans to what appears the safest, and one is a coward.

‘But the other at the same time has something gratifying to one’s feelings—and I think might be said and done—so that, if he showed the letters, it would be no evidence against the person; and worded with that kindness, and appearance of real affectionate concern for him as well as the other person concerned, that it might possibly touch him. Pray think of what I have thought, and write me a line, not to decide, for that I cannot expect, but to tell me if I deceived myself in the ideas I have expressed to you. I shall not, cannot answer till the latest post-day this week.

‘I know you will forgive me for this infliction, and may God bless you for that, and every other kindness.’

We do not remember ever to have read a letter more frankly disingenuous than this. The duplicity lurking in every line shows why the cause of the separation between Lord and Lady Byron has been for so long a mystery. Lady Byron herself was mystified by Augusta Leigh. It certainly was not easy for Lady Byron to gauge the deep deception practised upon her by both her husband and Mrs. Leigh; and yet it is surprising that Lady Byron should not have suspected, in Augusta’s self-depreciation, an element of fraud. Was it likely that Augusta, who had good reason to hate Lady Byron, would have provided her with such damning proofs against her brother and herself, if she had not possessed a clear conscience in the matter? She relied implicitly upon Byron’s letter being destroyed, and so worded her own that it would be extremely difficult for anyone but Lady Byron to understand what she was writing about. It will be noticed that no names are mentioned in any of her missives. People are referred to either as ‘maniacs,’ ‘victims,’ ‘unfortunate objects,’ or as ‘that most detestable woman, your relation by marriage,’ which, in a confidential communication to a sister-in-law, would be superfluous caution were she really sincere. But, after the separation period, Mrs. Leigh was never sincere in her intercourse with Lady Byron. Through that lady’s unflattering suspicions, Augusta had suffered ‘too much to be forgiven.’ Lady Byron, on the other hand, with very imperfect understanding of her sister-in-law’s character, was entirely at her mercy. To employ a colloquialism, the whole thing was a ‘blind,’ devised to support Augusta’s rôle as a repentant Magdalen; to attract compassion, perhaps even pecuniary assistance; and, above all, to shield the mother of Medora. The ruse was successful. Lady Byron saw a chance of eventually procuring, in the handwriting of her husband, conclusive evidence of his crime. In her letter of June 27, 1819, to Mrs. Leigh, she conveyed a hint that Byron might be lured to make ‘a more unequivocal disclosure than has yet been made.’

Lady Byron, it must be remembered, craved incessantly for documentary proofs, which might be produced, if necessary, to justify her conduct. It is significant that at the time of writing she possessed no evidence, except the letters which Mrs. Clermont had purloined from Byron’s writing-desk, and these were pronounced by Lushington to be far from conclusive.

Mrs. Leigh seems to have enjoyed the wrigglings of her victim on the hook. ‘Decision was never my forte,’ she writes to Lady Byron: ‘one ought to act right, and leave the issue to Providence.’