attend to him, we may date an
entire revolution in the 'Blackwood.' It became Byron's warmest
supporter,--is to this day the bitterest accuser of his wife.

Why was this wonderful silence? It appears by Dr. Lushington's
statements, that, when Lady Byron did speak, she had a story to tell that
powerfully affected both him and Romilly,--a story supported by evidence
on which they were willing to have gone to public trial. Supposing, now,
she had imitated Lord Byron's example, and, avoiding public trial, had
put her story into private circulation; as he sent 'Don Juan' to fifty
confidential friends, suppose she had sent a written statement of her
story to fifty judges as intelligent as the two that had heard it; or
suppose she had confronted his autobiography with her own,--what would
have been the result?

The first result might have been Mrs. Leigh's utter ruin. The world may
finally forgive the man of genius anything; but for a woman there is no
mercy and no redemption.

This ruin Lady Byron prevented by her utter silence and great
self-command. Mrs. Leigh never lost position. Lady Byron never so
varied in her manner towards her as to excite the suspicions even of her
confidential old servant.

To protect Mrs. Leigh effectually, it must have been necessary to
continue to exclude even her own mother from the secret, as we are
assured she did at first; for, had she told Lady Milbanke, it is not
possible that so high-spirited a woman could have restrained herself from
such outward expressions as would at least have awakened suspicion. There
was no resource but this absolute silence.

Lady Blessington, in her last conversation with Lord Byron, thus
describes the life Lady Byron was leading. She speaks of her as 'wearing
away her youth in almost monastic seclusion, questioned by some,
appreciated by few, seeking consolation alone in the discharge of her
duties, and avoiding all external demonstrations of a grief that her pale
cheek and solitary existence alone were vouchers for.' {49}

The main object of all this silence may be imagined, if we remember that
if Lord Byron had not died,--had he truly and deeply repented, and become
a thoroughly good man, and returned to England to pursue a course worthy
of his powers, there was on record neither word nor deed from his wife to
stand in his way.

HIS PLACE WAS KEPT IN SOCIETY, ready for him to return to whenever he
came clothed and in his right mind. He might h