Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1869-04-02

nOnuefIul woman, IOr neI lnlleAiDie Tetlcence,
her Spartan endurance. She was wofully
mismated; she has been more wofully mis-
understood. Silence, under such circumstan-
ces, in man, were heroic in a woman, it
is divine.
Ada Byron once, | was told, startled her
governess by asking 20 Was my papa great
pOet?'
Yes, he was an illustrious poet, -" replied
the lady, frankly.
" Was he as great as Milton?"
Why, no, think not at least he was
very different
Well, shall read something of his, some
time, | suppose" said the child, careless
ly; then turned her gay thoughts to other
things
If the fond prophecy of the poet-father,
given in the third canto of 'Childe Harold, -
was never fulfilled; if his daughters heart
did not turn to him while he lived, or cleave
passionately to his memory, it was not be-
cause of the hard teachings or the cold silence
ce of her mother, but was the result of her
own peculiar organization. She had little poe
| try or sentiment in her nature she was eceen-
trie, with probably touch of the family
madness. She had a passion for the turf and
sands pounds at the Derby races.
But this may have been only the surface
| life Of brilliant and erratic woman Of fash
ion. Deep down in all many have smould-
ed the elements of passion and Of power
that in her father found vent in far more
reckless and deplorable irregularities Of life,
in grand and melancholy poetry, in restless
wandering, and heroic undertakings The at
= and
must always have hung about her mother,
NAV have had a certain subtle, and unhealth-
/ ful influence upon her character as child.
/ That is but half a childhood which lacks the
/ father-loye and care, and when there opens
] between parents the gulf Of some domestic
/ tragedy-olten a pit deeper and darker than
anv grave that was ever dug-the youngest
child viii mysteriOusly feel the chill and the
horror Of it. 1t is sure to sadden and perplex
the innocent little heart. 1t seems to lie right
in the path of the little feet, whichever way
they turn. And, as the years 20 on, and
the sure knowledge cones, it shadows all
life, not with the rifted clouds and solemn
night gloom of natural sorrows, but with
somewhat of the strange and ghastly dark
ness Of an eclipse. Early must the daughter
of Byron, whom, personally, she much res
embed, have perceived that she g vexed' her
mother &" with her fathers eyes looking
ancient unkindness on her pain Early
must she have learned to shrink from the
poetic tastes and pursuits-even, perhaps,
from the illustrious name she could but asso-
ciate with that beloved mothers unhappi-
ness.
1t were presumptuous, with the little in
accurate knowledge of the circumstances we
possess, tojudge between the ill-mared pair
/ whose love was so soon turned into bitter
ness, between the ill-iated parents who part
/ cd over the cradle Of their frst-hOrn; for
/ the husband made his sorrow melodious, and
sung it over Europe made the four winds of
/ the earth sound his wrongs, made genius,
and death, and Immortality his avengers but
the wife set her teeth hard, and was still.
No, we cannot Judge between these two, yet
we cannot but think how differently all
might have been, in their lives, and in the
life of their child. il the husband had been
true, or if the wife could have been forgiv-
ing.
"Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these 1t might have been. u
Afterward questioned the housekeeper
- Did Mary Chaw0rth-Mrs. Musters-evel
visit Newstead p
"No-she was an invalid for some year.
before her death. very melancholy, and saiC
not to be quite sane, but her daughter onc'
spent a week or two here Poor Mrs. Mus
tiers made sad end During the Reform
Bill riots, when the mob burnt nottingham
Castle, out Of spite against the Of Duke New
castle, they attacked Mr.. Musters' place
for he was very unpopular with them, anC
Mrs. Musters escaped in her night clothes
and Law concealed in the strawberries for seve-
raj hours. The fright quite crazed her, and
the exposure made her more feriously i'll
and she died soon after. The marriage, like
that Of my Lord Byron, was unhappy. Hei
husband. Mr. Jack Musters. was a i0vial
fox-hunting gentleman, fond Of his glass, and
fonder, | doubt, of his horses and dogs thar
Of her, though she was a beautiful lady in
her youth. Her daughter, who was very
lovely young lady, seemed to like to talk o
Lord Byron and her mother. | came upon
her once, in the old Abbey church, reading
that poem that tells Of their love, Of his un.
happiness, and of the lady's madness anC
the poor girl was crying bitterly. | says t.
her. Just to comfort her My dear young
lady, if that Dream had not been true, anC
if your mother had married my Lord Byron,
instead of your papa, where would you have
been now ?'''
The condescending old gardener, in leisure
ly conducting us through the garden anC
shrubberies, favored us, at several points,
with recitations from Byron, given in a
style most'appropriate-for gardener. He
began at the oak planted by the little lore
on his coming to Newstead, from Aberdeen
''Young hoax, when planted thee deep in th'
ground,
I 'oped that thy days would be longer thar
nine" etc.
In showing us the tree in the back Of which
Byron had cut his name and that Of his sister
Augusta, he related rather singular Incl
dent lie said that year or two before, ;
certain famous American Snowman came L
Newstead, and had the assurance to ofel
Colonel Wildman FIVE hundred pounds for th'
piece of bark bearing that precious lettering
meaning, Of course, to cut it away, anC
carry it to America, and that Colonel Wild
man, Justly indignant, then and there, b.
peremptory orders, considerably shortene'
the interview.