of any greater sin than a vigorous
imagination. But here is a man believed guilty of an uncommon immorality
by the two best lawyers in England, and threatened with an open exposure,
which he does not dare to meet. The crime is named in society; his own
relations fall away from him on account of it; it is only set at rest by
the heroic conduct of his wife. Now, this man is stated by many of his
friends to have had all the appearance of a man secretly labouring under
the consciousness of crime. Moore speaks of this propensity in the
following language:--

'I have known him more than once, as we sat together after dinner, and
he was a little under the influence of wine, to fall seriously into
this dark, self-accusing mood, and throw out hints of his past life
with an air of gloom and mystery designed evidently to awaken
curiosity and interest.'

Moore says that it was his own custom to dispel these appearances by
ridicule, to which his friend was keenly alive. And he goes on to say,--

'It has sometimes occurred to me, that the occult causes of his lady's
separation from him, round which herself and her legal advisers have
thrown such formidable mystery, may have been nothing more than some
imposture of this kind, some dimly-hinted confession of undefined
horror, which, though intended by the relater to mystify and surprise,
the hearer so little understood as to take in sober seriousness.'
{225}

All we have to say is, that Lord Byron's conduct in this respect is
exactly what might have been expected if he had a crime on his
conscience.

The energy of remorse and despair expressed in 'Manfred' were so
appalling and so vividly personal, that the belief was universal on the
Continent that the experience was wrought out of some actual crime.
Goethe expressed this idea, and had heard a murder imputed to Byron as
the cause.

The allusion to the crime and consequences of incest is so plain in
'Manfred,' that it is astonishing that any one can pretend, as Galt does,
that it had any other application.

The hero speaks of the love between himself and the imaginary being whose
spirit haunts him as having been the deadliest sin, and one that has,
perhaps, caused her eternal destruction.

'What is she now? A sufferer for my sins;
A thing I dare not think upon.'

He speaks of her blood as haunting him, and as being

'My blood,--the pure, warm stream
That ran in the