I went, met her alone, and spent an
afternoon with her. The object of the visit she then explained to me.
She was in such a state of health that she considered she had very
little time to live, and was engaged in those duties and reviews which
every thoughtful person finds who is coming deliberately, and with
their eyes open, to the boundaries of this mortal life.
Lady Byron, as you must perceive, has all her life lived under a
weight of slanders and false imputations laid upon her by her husband.
Her own side of the story has been told only to that small circle of
confidential friends who needed to know it in order to assist her in
meeting the exigencies which it imposed on her. Of course it has
thrown the sympathy mostly on his side, since the world generally has
more sympathy with impulsive incorrectness than with strict justice.
At that time there was a cheap edition of Byron's works in
contemplation, meant to bring them into circulation among the masses,
and the pathos arising from the story of his domestic misfortunes was
one great means relied on for giving it currency.
Under these circumstances some of Lady Byron's friends had proposed
the question to her whether she had not a responsibility to society
for the truth; whether she did right to allow these persons to gain
influence over the popular mind by a silent consent to an utter
falsehood. As her whole life had been passed in the most heroic self-
abnegation and self sacrifice, the question was now proposed to her
whether one more act of self-denial was not required of her, namely,
to declare _the truth_, no matter at what expense to her own
feelings.
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