mobile mouth, with small white teeth, his fascinating chin, small, shapely hands, rich, musical voice, and irreproachable manners atoned for his rather thick and artificial-looking nose and his lameness. In public he was cold and reserved; in private, impetuous, confidential, irresistible.

The story of Lady Caroline Lamb's infatuation for him is only a type of the temptations to which he was subjected.

In October, 1812, he wrote to Mr. Murray: "I have a poem on Waltzing, of which I make you a present." Murray did not think highly of it, but published it anonymously. It was not well received; whereupon Byron wrote:

"I hear that a certain malicious publication on Waltzing is attributed to me. This report, I suppose, you will take care to contradict, as the author, I am sure, will not like that I should wear his cap and bells!"

In May, 1813, appeared The Giaour. While correcting the proofs of the fifth edition, he wrote in four nights The Bride of Abydos. Murray paid one thousand guineas for the two and for a few miscellaneous poems. Byron thought it too much for a fortnight's lucubrations. Six thousand copies of the Bride were sold in less than a month. The Corsair, written at the rate of two hundred lines a day, between Dec. 18 and 31, was published in February, 1814. Byron gave Mr. Dallas the copyright of this poem, which brought five hundred guineas. Ten thousand copies were sold on the day of publication.

While the work was in press he added the Stanzas

Prince

on a Lady Weeping which had been published anonymously before his conversation with the Regent whom they lampooned. His acknowledgment of their paternity brought upon him the bitterest attacks from the newspapers. It was even asserted that he received large sums of money for his writings, which was an insult equivalent to saying that he was in trade; and in his galled pride, he allowed Mr. Dallas publicly to attest that no money from the sale of his poems had ever touched his Lordship's hands or been disposed of for his use!

His Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte appeared in April, 1814, and was a comparative failure. Byron was so cut up by the criticisms it called forth that he determined to buy back his copyrights and suppress every line of his works. He assigned to Murray as a reason only his own caprice, but his publisher's protest availed to make him relent.

Lara was published early in the following August, and by the 29th had sold six thousand copies. For this Murray paid five hundred guineas.

Byron, who had been expecting to sell Newstead for £140,000, about this time regained it together with a forfeit of £25,000. This ready money did not suffice to pay his debts. In September, 1814, he was in London. Murray saw him and thus reported the interview:

Says he: Can you keep a secret ?'

"Certainly positively my wife is out of town.' "Then — I am going to be MARRIED!'

"The devil! I shall have no poem this winter then?' "'No.'

666

"Who is the lady whɔ is to do me this injury?'
"Miss Milbanke.' "'

Anne Isabella was the only daughter of Sir Ralph Milbanke. She had a fortune of £10,000 and expectations of seven or eight thousand a year from her uncle, Viscount Wentworth. Byron on his marriage gave her £60,000. It was certainly not a brilliant marriage, though the lady was good-looking, a clever mathematician, a poet, and versed in French, Latin, Italian, and Greek, and was regarded as a paragon of virtue.

There is no doubt Byron was in love with her or thought that he was. The marriage took place Jan. 2, 1815, and as the carriage drove away Lady Byron's words to Hobhouse were, "If I am not happy it will be my own fault.”

At first they were happy. Byron wrote to Moore just a month later:

"The treacle-moon is over and I am awake and find myself married. My spouse and I agree to admiration.

. . I still think one ought to marry upon lease; but I am very sure I should renew mine at the expiration, though next term were ninety and nine years."

Byron called his wife "Pippin;" she called him "Duck;" his sister, who called him " Baby," they both called "Goose." It seemed like a happy family.

Lord Wentworth died in April and left the bulk of his property to his sister, to revert on her death to Lady Byron. This did not bring any relief to Lord Byron. During the few months that they lived in London (March 18, 1815,-Jan. 15, 1816) there were nine execution. upon them for debt. And yet they lived economically.

Lady Caroline Lamb was Lady Byron's cousin. His renewed intimacy with her at Melbourne house began to be a cause of anxiety. Byron was a great joker, and often his "chaff " was coarse and ungentlemanly. Lady Byron was intensely practical and could not see a joke.

Just before the daughter Ada was born Byron undoubtedly treated his wife with positive unkindness. She was not the only one who thought that he might be insane. When she once asked him if she were in his way, he replied, "Damnably." He more than once "breathed the breath of bitter words." Even if his statement that he married her out of revenge for her having once refused him were a jest, it was a cruel one. Once when pressed for money he flung his watch on the hearth and smashed

it with a poker.

5 He chewed tobacco and partook copiously of opium to soothe the pangs of his outraged stomach: he was suffering from jaundice and his mind was evidently in a highly overwrought state.

But the doctors whom she engaged to investigate his state reported that he was sane. Lady Byron's former governess, Mrs. Clermon, known now as the Mischiefmaker, broke into Byron's private desk and found some compromising letters written to a married lady before his marriage.

Lady Byron felt justified in leaving her husband. The decision was made known to him Feb. 2, 1816. He at first refused to sign the private agreement, and only consented when it was threatened that the case would be taken into court.

About this time, Jane Clairmont, a step-daughter of William Godwin, applied at Drury Lane Theatre for a position as an actress. Byron, who was on the so-called Board of Mis-management, took a fancy to her. She become the mother of his favorite natural daughter, Allegra.

The scandal of the separation brought down upon Lord Byron a perfect storm of calumnies. Such storms sour the milk of human kindness.

He was advised not to go to the House of Lords lest he should be mobbed. "I was accused," he wrote, "of every monstrous vice by public rumor and private rancor. ... I felt that if what was whispered and muttered and murmured was true, I was unfit for England; if false, England was unfit for me."

As for the reasons for their separation Byron later declared that they were "too simple to be found out." It is certain that Lady Byron kept up her friendship with Augusta Leigh until 1830, so that the story circulated by Mrs. Stowe seems to be effectually disproved.

The turning of English society against Lord Byron was one of the most curious phenomena of history. But the explanation is not far to seek. Byron painted a portrait in the blackest colors. The world believed that he himself was the model, and accepted the likeness in spite of his disclaimer. The men of his own order hated him because he did not lead their life. Politically he was dangerous; he had outraged the religious susceptibilities of the English Philistines. He became the scapegoat of the nobility-attacked by all classes.

Lady Caroline Lamb wrote a novel showing under a