‘They’ll tell thee, Clara, I have seemedOf late another’s charms to woo,Nor sighed nor frowned as if I deemedThat thou wert vanished from my view.Clara, this struggle to undoWhat thou hast done too well for me,This mask before the babbling crowd,This treachery, is truth to thee,’—
‘They’ll tell thee, Clara, I have seemedOf late another’s charms to woo,Nor sighed nor frowned as if I deemedThat thou wert vanished from my view.Clara, this struggle to undoWhat thou hast done too well for me,This mask before the babbling crowd,This treachery, is truth to thee,’—
‘They’ll tell thee, Clara, I have seemedOf late another’s charms to woo,Nor sighed nor frowned as if I deemedThat thou wert vanished from my view.Clara, this struggle to undoWhat thou hast done too well for me,This mask before the babbling crowd,This treachery, is truth to thee,’—
‘They’ll tell thee, Clara, I have seemed
Of late another’s charms to woo,
Nor sighed nor frowned as if I deemed
That thou wert vanished from my view.
Clara, this struggle to undo
What thou hast done too well for me,
This mask before the babbling crowd,
This treachery, is truth to thee,’—
a peculiar and ambiguous form of reasoning, by which it appeared Lady Caroline was not convinced.
Byron’s well-known stanzas, ‘Farewell! if ever fondestprayer,’ were said to have been addressed to Lady Caroline when he left England for ever, having quarrelled with his wife as well as with his friend. The poem was not calculated to conciliate the lady, and it was not long before she heard from a third person that Byron had spoken slightingly of her to Madame de Staël and others. She accordingly sat down, and wrote him a long account of the childish revenge she had taken, by burning his effigy in a bonfire, with her own hands.
In her Diary she gives a touching account of her useless endeavours to pique or persuade her poor boy into cheerfulness, and how, when he saw her look of disappointment, he would come and sit beside her, take her hand, and look wistfully into her face. She had consulted many physicians, she said, and now she would consult ametaphysician. Some time ago she had met Godwin, the author, and taken one of her sudden fancies for him. She now sat down and asked him to come and pay her a visit at Brocket; she wished to have some conversation with him about her son, and indeed about her own unsettled and discontented state of mind. ‘When I saw you last under painful circumstances, you said it rested with myself to be happy. I fear you can only think of me with contempt. My mind is overpowered with trifles. Would you dislike paying me a little visit? I hold out no allurements; if you come, it can only be from friendship. I have no longer the excuse of youth and inexperience for being foolish, yet I remain so. I want a few wise words of advice. No one is more sensible of kindness from a person of high intellect. I have such an over-abundance of activity, and nothing to do. I feel as if I had lived five hundred years, and am neither better nor worse than when I began. I conduce to no one’s happiness; on the contrary, I am in the way of many. All my beliefs and opinions are shaken as with small shocks of moral earthquake; it is as if I were in a boat without chart or compass.’ Surely she was not wise in her selection of a navigator.
Godwin obeyed the summons, but, as might have been expected, brought no consolation in his train. Lady Caroline would often in her correspondence eulogise her husband in very high terms, and call him her guardian angel, and there is no doubt she was proud of him; but his very forbearance and good-humour were often a source of irritation, and she would upbraid him with treating her as a child, though, in reality, nothing flattered her more than to be so considered, and in some of her early caricatures (for she often amused herself in that way) she represents herself carried about in Mr. Lamb’s arms as a little girl. Her father-in-law, easy-going as he was, blamed her for her extravagance, and called her ‘herlaviship.’ ‘Indeed I think I am a good housewife,’ she writes to Lady Morgan, ‘and have saved William money; but he says, “What is the use of saving with one hand if you scatter with the other?” What is the use—that is what I am always saying—what is the use of existing at all?’
This unwholesome excitement tended to increase the natural irascibility of her character. In her Diary she records petty quarrels with her servants and other inmates of the house. She at length took to authorship as a consolation, and gives an odd account of the manner in which her literary labours were carried on. She had a companion, who began by acting as her amanuensis, but after a time she decided on having an expert copyist. Even so commonplace an arrangement must be carried out in a melodramatic manner. She wrote the book, unknown to all, except to Miss Welsh, in the middle of the night. ‘I sent for old Woodhead to Melbourne House. I dressed Miss Welsh elegantly, and placed her at my harp, while I sat at the writing-table, disguised in the page’s clothes. The copyist naturally took Miss Welsh for Lady Caroline, and expressed his astonishment that a schoolboy of that age (I looked about fourteen) could be the author ofGlenarvon. Next time he came I received him in myown clothes, and told him William Ormond, the young author, was dead. When the book was finished, I sent it to ‘William, who was delighted.’ (Query.)Glenarvondisappointed the public, not so much on account of its literary shortcomings, which might have been anticipated, but from its lack of sufficient allusions to the separation of Lord and Lady Byron, though there was no scarcity of abuse of the hero. The story was too feeble and vapid to cause much sensation, yet the authoress found publishers willing to accept further works from the same pen, andGraham HamiltonandAda Reisfollowed.
Lord Byron, writing from Venice, speaking ofGlenarvon, says: ‘I have seen nothing of the book but the motto from my “Corsair”:—
“He left a name to all succeeding timesLinked with one virtue and a thousand crimes.”
“He left a name to all succeeding timesLinked with one virtue and a thousand crimes.”
“He left a name to all succeeding timesLinked with one virtue and a thousand crimes.”
“He left a name to all succeeding times
Linked with one virtue and a thousand crimes.”
If such be the posy, what must the ring be?—the generous moment selected for the publication! I have not a guess at the contents.’ A little while after, Madame de Staël lent him the book, when he went to see her at Coppet. ‘It seems to me that if the author had told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, the romance would not only have been more romantic, but more interesting. The likeness is not good;I did not sit long enough.’
Besides her novels, Lady Caroline sent contributions to Annuals and Magazines, breathing eternal love and dire remorse:—
“Weep for what thou’st lost, love,Weep for what thou’st won,Weep for what thou didst not do,And more for what thou’st done.”
“Weep for what thou’st lost, love,Weep for what thou’st won,Weep for what thou didst not do,And more for what thou’st done.”
“Weep for what thou’st lost, love,Weep for what thou’st won,Weep for what thou didst not do,And more for what thou’st done.”
“Weep for what thou’st lost, love,
Weep for what thou’st won,
Weep for what thou didst not do,
And more for what thou’st done.”
She often amused herself by setting her own compositions to music very prettily.
We are not told in what manner Lady Caroline receivedthe tidings of Byron’s death, but we have a detailed account of her driving one summer’s day on the Great North Road, not far from Brocket, in an open carriage, accompanied by her husband, when, at a turn in the road, they came upon a long and melancholy procession. It proved to be the funeral of a peer, from the fact that the hearse was preceded by a horseman bearing a coronet on a cushion. The lady stopped her carriage and asked the question whose funeral it was. ‘We are taking Lord Byron to Newstead to be buried,’ was the reply. The shock was terrible. Lady Caroline reached home, more dead than alive, and fell into a species of trance, from which the waking was slow and tedious. She would sit for hours with her hands clasped on her lap, silent and listless; and it was long before she could be prevailed on to resume her usual occupations, or busy herself with her books, music, or drawing. When the invalid was a little better, change of air and scene was prescribed, and she was sent abroad. She wrote from Paris to Lady Morgan, asking her to look in a cabinet, in a certain room at Melbourne House, where she would find a miniature[5]of Lord Byron: ‘Pray send it me without delay.’ Coming back to England, she again took up her abode at Brocket, where her husband often visited her, although his official and Parliamentary duties were a sufficient reason for his residing mostly in London. When he went over to Ireland as Chief Secretary, he kept up a regular correspondence with his wife (now a confirmed invalid), and with those to whose care she was consigned. In Dublin he was a frequent visitor at the house of Lady Morgan, who was much attached to Lady Caroline, to give her news of his wife’s health, or show her some of the letters he received from Brocket,—such, for instance, as, ‘My dearest William,—Since I wrote last I have been a greatsufferer. Tapping is a dreadful sensation, it turns me so deadly cold and sick.... But everybody is so good to me. All the members of both our families, Emily, and Caroline have been to see me, and the whole county has called to inquire. My dear brother, too, has been with me, and is coming again. He reads to me, which is so soothing; but what pleased me most of all was your dear letter, in which you said you loved me and forgave me.’
5.Lady Caroline Lamb bequeathed this portrait to Lady Morgan, at whose death it was sold by auction.
5.Lady Caroline Lamb bequeathed this portrait to Lady Morgan, at whose death it was sold by auction.
In proportion as her bodily health failed, so did the sufferer become more and more gentle, patient, and grateful for kindness. The evil spirit had been cast out. She grew so much worse that it was deemed advisable to remove her to London for the benefit of medical advice. On the 26th of January 1828, Lady Morgan received a letter from Mr. William Ponsonby (afterwards Lord De Mauley), to announce his sister’s death. ‘From the beginning of her illness,’ he says, ‘she had no expectation of recovery, and only felt anxious to live long enough to see Mr. Lamb once again. In this she was gratified, and was still able to converse with him, and enjoy his society. But for the past three days it was apparent that her strength was rapidly declining, and on Sunday night, at about nine o’clock, she expired without a struggle. A kinder or more tender heart never ceased to beat, and it was a great consolation to her and to us that her mind was fully prepared and reconciled to the awful change. She viewed the near approach of death with calmness, and during her long and severe sufferings her patience never forsook her, or her affectionate consideration for those around her. Mr. Lamb has felt and acted as I knew he would on this sad occasion.’
The friendship of the brothers-in-law had never been interrupted. Although fully prepared for a great change in his wife’s appearance, William Lamb was more shocked than he expected to be. The short time that intervened between his return and her death was marked by tenderness on hispart and affection on hers; and in after years the widower always spoke of ‘Caroline’ with gentleness and forbearance.
Lady Morgan thus describes her friend’s appearance: ‘A slight tall figure, dark lustrous eyes, with fair hair and complexion; a charming voice, sweet, low, caressing, which exercised a wonderful influence over most people. She was eloquent also, but had only one subject—herself. She was the slave of imagination and of impulse.’
No. 18.
NATHANIEL CLIFFORD.Brown coat. White cravat.
NATHANIEL CLIFFORD.Brown coat. White cravat.
NATHANIEL CLIFFORD.
Brown coat. White cravat.
He was a man of letters, a friend of Lord Chancellor Cowper.
No. 19.
THREE BROTHERS OF THE HOUSE OF NASSAU.Two in armour. One in a velvet coat.
THREE BROTHERS OF THE HOUSE OF NASSAU.Two in armour. One in a velvet coat.
THREE BROTHERS OF THE HOUSE OF NASSAU.
Two in armour. One in a velvet coat.