Lady Byron Vindicated | Page 5

Byron selected as the exact parallel and proper illustration of his wife's treatment of himself. In his letters and journals he often alludes to her as Clytemnestra, and the allusion has run the round of a thousand American papers lately, and been read by a thousand good honest people, who had no very clear idea who Clytemnestra was, and what she did which was like the proceedings of Lady Byron. According to the tragedy, Clytemnestra secretly hates her husband Agamemnon, whom she professes to love, and wishes to put him out of the way that she may marry her lover, AEgistheus. When her husband returns from the Trojan war she receives him with pretended kindness, and officiously offers to serve him at the bath. Inducing him to put on a garment, of which she had adroitly sewed up the sleeves and neck so as to hamper the use of his arms, she gives the signal to a concealed band of assassins, who rush upon him and stab him. Clytemnestra is represented by AEschylus as grimly triumphing in her success, which leaves her free to marry an adulterous paramour.
'I did it, too, in such a cunning wise, That he could neither 'scape nor ward off doom. I staked around his steps an endless net, As for the fishes.'
In the piece entitled 'Lines on hearing Lady Byron is ill,' Lord Byron charges on his wife a similar treachery and cruelty. The whole poem is in Murray's English edition, Vol. IV. p. 207. Of it we quote the following. The reader will bear in mind that it is addressed to Lady Byron on a sick-bed:--
'I am too well avenged, but 't was my right; Whate'er my sins might be, thou wert not sent To be the Nemesis that should requite, Nor did Heaven choose so near an instrument. Mercy is for the merciful! If thou Hast been of such, 't will be accorded now. Thy nights are banished from the realms of sleep, For thou art pillowed on a curse too deep; Yes! they may flatter thee, but thou shalt feel A hollow agony that will not heal. Thou hast sown in my sorrow, and must reap The bitter harvest in a woe as real. _I have had many foes, but none like thee_; For 'gainst the rest myself I could defend, And be avenged, or turn them into friend; But thou, in safe implacability, Hast naught to dread,--in thy own weakness shielded, And in my love, which hath but too much yielded, And spared, for thy sake, some I should not spare. And thus upon the world, trust in thy truth, And the wild fame of my ungoverned youth,-- On things that were not and on things that are,-- Even upon such a basis thou halt built A monument whose cement hath been guilt! The moral Clytemnestra of thy lord, And hewed down with an unsuspected sword Fame, peace, and hope, and all that better life Which, but for this cold treason of thy heart, Might yet have risen from the grave of strife And found a nobler duty than to part. But of thy virtues thou didst make a vice, Trafficking in them with a purpose cold, And buying others' woes at any price, For present anger and for future gold; And thus, once entered into crooked ways, The early truth, that was thy proper praise, Did not still walk beside thee, but at times, And with a breast unknowing its own crimes, Deceits, averments incompatible, Equivocations, and the thoughts that dwell _In Janus spirits, the significant eye That learns to lie with silence_, {14} the pretext Of prudence with advantages annexed, The acquiescence in all things that tend, No matter how, to the desired end,-- All found a place in thy philosophy. The means were worthy and the end is won. I would not do to thee as thou hast done.'
Now, if this language means anything, it means, in plain terms, that, whereas, in her early days, Lady Byron was peculiarly characterised by truthfulness, she has in her recent dealings with him acted the part of a liar,--that she is not only a liar, but that she lies for cruel means and malignant purposes,--that she is a moral assassin, and her treatment of her husband has been like that of the most detestable murderess and adulteress of ancient history, that she has learned to lie skilfully and artfully, that she equivocates, says incompatible things, and crosses her own tracks,--that she is double-faced, and has the art to lie even by silence, and that she has become wholly unscrupulous, and acquiesces in _any_thing, no matter what, that tends to the desired end, and that end the destruction of her husband. This is a brief summary of the story that Byron made