Lord Byron's Marriage: The Bitter End

This is the last installment of the Lord Byron marriage saga. If you want to catch up on previous "episodes" starting with the first one, click HERE.

Annabella left 13 Piccadilly Square for good on January 15, 1816. Arguably, this was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. Later, she would later write that as she left that morning, it took every ounce of strength not to crumple at the foot of his door, where his dog normally lay, in the hopes they could start again.

As happens with so many couples in the midst of a split, the games now turned to finger pointing, accusations, and dismay. Byron’s already crumbling world virtually disintegrated.

Once Annabella and the newborn, Ada, were under her parents’ roof, all masks of deception she had worn during the one-year course of her marriage came off. With judicial precision, Annabella’s parents questioned her. They would know the true nature of her marriage with a man they had come to despise. There was to be no forgiveness, no negotiations, no reconciliation.

Byron: Public Domain

Annabella’s heart was in turmoil. In the beginning, she wrote letters to Byron that suggested her love for him was still strong. She was casual and offered nothing but news from home, signing her letters, “Ever thy most loving Pippin…Pip…Pip.” (Pip was Byron’s pet name for Annabella). Even so, once her mother had caught wind of some of Byron’s behavior, all control of the situation moved out of Annabella's hands. On January 20^th, Annabella’s mother, Lady Noel, set out for London determined to bring about a separation.

 
In the early days of this legal battle, letters circulated back and forth amongst Annabella, Byron, and Augusta, and finally between Lord Milbanke, Byron, and lawyers. Augusta was every bit as anxious as Byron to somehow stop the separation and wrote to Annabella that she please reconsider for Byron’s sake and for the sake of their child. Already rumors were flying, ones that involved Augusta as well as some involving Byron’s time in Greece several years before. "I was accused of every monstrous vice by public rumour and private rancor." Byron claimed complete innocence and bemusement at the charges leveled against him. He had no recollection of treating his wife poorly, and he roundly denounced any suggestion of incest between himself and his half-sister.

By February, it was obvious to Augusta and Byron, that they would not persuade Annabella to return to him. Byron reported that her parents had turned her against him. By now, the separation proceedings had taken on a life of their own. Lady Caroline Lamb, one of Byron’s lovers and a cousin by marriage to Annabella, heaped fuel on the fire with her revelation that years before, Byron had told her of his love for a woman who carried his child: “…there is a woman I love so passionately—she is with child by me, and if a daughter it shall be called Medora.” Medora was the name of Augusta’s daughter, but it should be mentioned that these words came through Caroline (and she was hardly a reliable witness).

The time of social worship ended for Byron during the spring of 1816. He was publicly cut. None of the old invitations came his way, and when he did appear in public, he was shunned. All public support moved to Annabella’s court.

Lady Byron: Public Domain

In the end, Lord Byron and Annabella were legally separated by divortium a mensa et thoro. Literally, this Latin phrase means separation from table and bed. This process was used in the case of cruel and violent treatment or adultery on either side. All financial ties were released from either party and remarriage was never allowed.

 Byron’s reputation now ruined, he left England in the spring of that year to live abroad. He never returned to England. With his usual flair for dramatics, Byron would later write,

“I was unfit for England; if false, England was unfit for me. I withdrew; but this was not enough. In other countries—in Switzerland, in the shadow of the Alps, and by the blue depths of the lakes—I was pursued and breathed upon by the same blight. I crossed the mountains, but it was the same; so I went a little farther, and settled myself by the waves of the Adriatic, like a stag at bay, who betakes him to the waters.”

As for Annabella, who went on to live a full life with many philanthropic endeavors, she was once asked by a friend how she had managed to survive her year of marriage to such a man. Annabella responded:
 

“I felt a responsibility for him as well as myself, and when my own interpretation of the natural law was clouded by my feelings, I referred to the Revealed will—in this sense, J[esus] Christ may indeed be said to have been my Saviour—I found in his precepts that ‘immutable morality’ which the reason of man is often incapable of discerning.”

Faith had always been Annabella’s cornerstone as much as self-damnation had been Byron’s. The inequality of their moral and spiritual philosophies may well have been the defeat of their marriage, as it has been for many others since.

Thanks for reading this exploration of the year of marriage between Lord Byron and Annabella Milbanke. 

My first Regency novel, Dangerous to Know, a story inspired by their marriage, is slated to be released sometime this fall through Elk Lake Publishing.

Source:

Crane, David. The Kindness of Sisters: Annabella Milbanke and the Destruction of the Byrons. Alfred A. Knopf, New York: 2002.

Lord Byron's Marriage: Rage or Insanity?

Throughout January and February, I've been writing about Lord Byron's marriage to Annabella Milbanke. This is the next-to-the-last installment.

In October or November of 1815, just a few weeks before Annabella gave birth to their child, Byron took a lover. Her name was Susan Boyce, a hot-headed actress from Drury Lane Theatre, more noted for the girl-fights she started rather than any roles she played. By this point, Byron was severely depressed and drinking night and day. In fact, Susan Boyce enjoyed much of the same behavior that Byron had bestowed upon his wife. She would wait up for him, only to find that he didn't show, with no apology or excuse. He soon tired of her and got rid of her altogether when she asked him for money. She was inconsequential to Byron's life but served as a tool of torment for Annabella.

Whether or not some of the things he told her were true, Annabella believed them. Byron told her that he gave Susan Boyce jewelry, expensive gifts of his affection. When he arrived home late, he told his wife that he'd just come from his mistress's bed. Annabella was not allowed to sit in Byron's box seats at the theatre, lest he desire to attend with Susan. Finally, he encouraged her to relay all of the sordid details of his affair to his half-sister, Augusta--undoubtedly, the real target for his cruel arrows of psychological torture.

Even in light of all Byron's ridiculous behavior outside of his home, it was inside the walls of 13 Piccadilly Terrace where the most bizarre goings-on took place. Despite all that had previously transpired between the trio, as Annabella's confinement approached, she requested Augusta's presence. Annabella could not ask her mother to come. If Lady Noel were to see her son-in-law's behavior toward her daughter and soon-to-be grandchild, it would have killed her.

Augusta arrived to find Byron in a drunken rage, the servants hiding in fright, and Annabella barricaded in her room. Byron suggested that both Annabella and the baby should die during childbirth--it would be better for them all. Then he took to firing off his pistols...inside the house...just below Annabella's rooms. He also smashed furniture and anything glass (he was notably fond of removing the necks of brandy decanters with a poker stick). Augusta realized very quickly that this was far more than she could handle on her own. She summoned other relatives to come and help get him under control.

Both Augusta and Annabella questioned Byron's sanity. When Augusta confronted him regarding his tantrums, Byron responded, "I am determined to fling Misery around me & upon all those with whom I concerned." Byron went on to tell several of his friends that he must separate from Annabella--she and the child must go and live with her parents--else he might divorce her or worse.

Annabella's labor began on December 9th and with it, Byron's mind games. According to Annabella's maid, Byron locked himself in her rooms and attempted to rape her. The maid came in during the physical struggle and intervened. When a friend of the family suggested Annabella leave the house to have the baby, Byron heard of the plan, and immediately confronted his wife, violently demanding whether or not she would continue to live with him. Ultimately, Annabella decided to stay and Byron spent the evening at the theatre.

Annabella's daughter, Augusta Ada, was born December 10th at one o'clock in the afternoon. She was named after her godmother and a family member on her father's side. During her life she would be called Ada, and she would go on to become a mathematician who would help Charles Babbage create the analytical engine (one of the first computers). When Byron first saw his daughter, he immediately checked her feet to make sure they did not share his deformity, and then he allegedly pronounced, "Oh! What an implement of torture I have acquired in you!" 

(Ada Byron, aged 4. Public Domain)

Later, Byron would deny all of these accusations. Whether it truly was a season of madness or just the rage of losing control over his life, it is hard to say. Annabella requested that he be examined by a doctor for signs of insanity, but she didn't stick around to find out the verdict. After a violent exchange with her husband on January 3rd, Annabella made plans to leave London...and Byron.

Next Week: The Bitter End

Source:
Eisler, Benita. Byron: Child of Passion, Fool of Fame. Alfred A. Knopf. New York, 1999.

Lord Byron's Marriage: Money Miseries

During the month of February, I am writing about Lord Byron’s marriage to Annabella Milbanke.

(public domain via Wikipedia Commons)

In the summer of 1815, following the departure of Byron’s half-sister, Augusta Leigh, and despite Annabella’s progressing pregnancy, Byron sank into another depression. He was drinking heavily and not producing poetry. When invited to join the Sub-Management Committee of Drury Lane Theatre, he was delighted.

Byron had always been passionate about the theater and this opportunity offered him a reprieve from what he now saw as his sentence to a life of domesticity. Unfortunately, this opportunity also allowed him a return to his old ways of scouting new flesh with which to amuse himself. As he told Annabella one evening, torturing her with his barely veiled threats to choose one of the actresses from Drury Lane, “I am looking out to see who will suit me best.”

There was no doubt that any affection he’d once held for Annabella was waning fast. Perhaps familiarity had given birth to contempt (before Byron took on this position at Drury Lane, the couple was rarely ever apart). Perhaps too much time was spent in his half-sister Augusta’s company, encouraging his long-held and highly inappropriate attraction for her instead of his wife. Most likely, the passing months of their marriage had served only to solidify the truth of their unequally yoked state. Annabella, serious, sincere, and desperate to attain the love of her husband, could not comprehend Byron's self-indulgence and lack of emotional discipline.   

Byron had attempted to sell his childhood home, Newstead Abbey, in the hopes of paying off some of his many debts. Previous attempts to sell the place had fallen through and when it was put it up for auction in July of 1815, it failed to meet the reserve. At this time, Byron constructed his final will—most of his estate would be left to his half-sister, Augusta.

Always willing to see people in their best light, Annabella did not view this as a mean-spirited decision. She chose to believe that this signified Byron’s generosity, as his half-sister’s finances were worse than their own.

During that summer, Byron embarked on a journey to Six Mile Bottom to help the Leighs sort out their financial ruin. He left in a foul temper, and Lady Byron later told her maid that she feared, “she would never see him again and that he was going abroad.” Letters passed between Annabella and Augusta, in which Augusta expressed concern that her husband, Colonel Leigh, might try to extract money from Byron. In the end, it was not Colonel Leigh who requested the money, but Augusta herself who accepted some seven hundred pounds from Byron.

Annabella frantically attempted to stave off creditors. She educated herself on financial matters, including mortgages and lenders and how to raise money. Her parents had tried to help. They had sold property and attempted to finagle extra funds through collateral and complex money-lending plans. Annabella knew it was only a matter of time before the bailiffs came knocking. “For positively, the Execution cannot be suspended beyond the 6^th of November,” she wrote to her parents. “Do you know of any means by which a week could be gained?”

In the fall, Annabella approached her confinement, and Byron expressed a wish to have all financial matters settled before the birth of their child. He did not want the bailiffs in the house as Annabella gave birth. Nevertheless, on November 8, the bailiffs arrived with the intent to execute the sale of any and all valuables in order to satisfy the debt.

Byron was mortified. He had known this was coming, but now that it was here the humiliation was more than he could bear. Annabella later wrote to Augusta, “…he seems to regard [this subject] as if no mortal had ever experienced anything so shocking.” Even so, Byron still refused to take any money for his poetry. It was his publisher who finally sent Byron fifteen hundred pounds in order to save his library from seizure.

Next week: Preparing for the Final Descent

Lord Byron's Marriage: Locked to a Lord for Life

Throughout the month of January and February, I'm writing about Lord Byron's marriage to Annabella Milbanke. You can catch up on the other installments, starting HERE.

Once Lord and Lady Byron left Augusta Leigh's home at the end of March 1815, some of Byron's anxiety decreased. For a few short weeks, the newlyweds were able to settle in to their lives at 13 Piccadilly Terrace in London. But as was usual with Byron, the peace did not last.

Their finances were bad. Byron had debts in excess of thirty thousand pounds and no way to settle them. Their house at Piccadilly Terrace was large and required substantial staff; the rent was seven hundred pounds a year; they require a coach and coachmen. To live in the expected manner of the nobility was an expensive task. Byron's poetry might have been lucrative enough to pay for many of these niceties, but as a gentleman, Byron refused all monetary profits from his work.

The ton was all aflutter to see the new couple. Had Lady Byron managed to tame her wild lord, or was he as unruly as ever? Invitations poured in from all corners of Society. The Byrons were in demand for parties and dining engagements. No one at these events ever reported Byron's behavior as anything but gentlemanly and attentive to Annabella. Possibly he was settling into his new life, learning to accept it along with his husbandly role. Or perhaps he was on his best behavior because he knew people were watching... 

Another turn of the screw came with the discovery of Annabella's pregnancy. Byron was in two minds on this. On the one hand, he would have an heir; on the other hand, it was another mouth to feed. Byron wrote to his friend that he was "not particularly anxious" to have a child. Even so, reports of his affectionate concern and treatment of Annabella during this time reveal a more tender-hearted Byron, perhaps a man growing fond of the idea of fatherhood.

Not two weeks after the Byrons had moved into their new home, on April 12, Augusta Leigh arrived. Augusta had been appointed as one of Queen Charlotte's ladies-in-waiting. Consequently, Annabella had invited her to stay with them in Piccadilly Terrace while she sorted out and furnished rooms of her own at St. James's Palace. Perhaps Annabella wished to attempt a deeper relationship with her sister-in-law, to win her over to her side of the battle. Annabella would later write, "It was hopeless to keep them apart. It was not hopeless, in my opinion, to keep them innocent."

Annabella's intentions may have been pure, but the results were predictable. Augusta's visit produced the same sort distress within Lord Byron as when they had visited her at Six Mile Bottom. It was not long after her arrival that Byron told his wife, "You were a fool to let her come--You will find it will make a good deal of difference to you in all ways." No doubt Annabella had hoped for a different outcome for their marriage once they were settled in London and she was carrying his child, but she was again disappointed when Byron and Augusta took up exactly where they'd left off at Six Mile Bottom. Now, with the money woes as an additional stress, Byron taunted Annabella about her uncle's refusal to die and pass on the promised inheritance, as well as her father's promised marriage settlement of twenty thousand pounds, which had yet to be received.

Augusta's stay at Piccadilly Terrace stretched into a month, and then another. Although there were moments when her presence helped to buffer Byron's black moods, and she faithfully defended Annabella whenever he chose to treat her poorly, the late nights when Augusta and Byron sat up talking, laughing, and who knew what else, drove Annabella mad. One time in particular, Annabella wrote that "the thought of the dagger lying in the next room ... crossed my mind--I wished it in her heart." Obviously, a breaking point had been reached.

In June, Annabella finally sent Augusta packing. Again, there was the briefest of respites from Byron's black moods.

Was Byron prone to violent mood swings? Most likely, he was. By his own account, he was cursed and doomed, marred with the mark of Cain in the form of his lame leg. But did Annabella embellish these tales in any way? Some scholars say this, too, is a distinct probability. Much of what we hear about the horrors of their marriage come from Annabella's letters and legal statements from years later. Is it possible she had a different recollection of the way things unfolded?

In August of the year of their marriage, the Byrons received a young visitor from Boston, a Mr. George Ticknor, who came to meet and "worship at the shrine" of Byron. He was very surprised, however, to find that Byron was not at all the man he expected, nothing like the "the characters of his own Childe Harold & Giaour...either of his early follies or his present eccentricities." Instead, the visitor described Byron as "gentle...natural and unaffected." He went on to say that Byron was modest about his own works, but talked "of his rivals, or rather contemporaries, with justice, generosity, and discriminating praise."

Perhaps the most interesting observation made by Ticknor was in regard to Annabella. Byron, he said, acted in an "affectionate manner" with his wife. Once, he observed, as she prepared to depart for an outing, Byron "followed her to the door, and shook hands with her, as if he were not to see her for a month."

Byron could not have been wholly wicked to his wife all of the time, but a selfish and self-destructive streak in the poet drove him to discontent and a propensity toward behavior that split the couple apart. Perhaps if Byron had married another woman or if Annabella had married another man, they would have had the opportunity for happiness. But opposites attract. The unequal insist on being yoked. But fire and ice cannot coexist, and ultimately, a house divided against itself cannot stand.

Next week: Debt and Desperation

Sources:
MacCarthy, Fiona. Byron: Life and Legend. Farar, Straus and Giroux. New York: 2002.

Eisler, Benita. Byron: Child of Passion, Fool of Fame. Alfred A. Knopf. New York: 1999.

Lord Byron's Marriage: The Love Triangle

During the month of January, I am writing installments regarding the marriage of Lord Byron to Annabella Milbanke in January of 1815. This was a marriage equal in status, but woefully unequal in all other respects.

After a miserable first honeymoon week at Halnaby House in Yorkshire, Byron and Annabella settled into a reasonably happy time around or after January 7. On that date, Byron wrote to his friend and confidante, Lady Melbourne: "Bell and I go on extremely well so far without any other company than our own selves as yet." To others he wrote, "I have great hopes this match will turn out well--I have found nothing as yet that I could wish changed for the better--but Time does wonders--so I won't be too hasty in my happiness."

In fact, the peaceful and happy weeks of their remaining honeymoon were predictably interrupted by Byron's constant mentions of his half-sister, Augusta. Even so, he did not write to "Guss" after they left Halnaby. Lord and Lady Byron traveled once more to visit Annabella's parents in Seaham, where they stayed for three pleasant weeks. This time, it was Augusta who wrote to Annabella and scolded Byron for his silence. "Poor dear B! He must have So many occupations, walking, dining, playing at Drafts with 'Mama' &c. &c. &c. & no time to scribble to 'Guss.' I am vain enough to think he does not forget her--& so--never mind."

Most likely feeling the pressure to show how happy they were (and to stake her claim), Annabella returned Augusta's note and hinted that she and Byron were spending much time enjoying the physical benefits of marriage. Augusta replied simply, "I am glad B's spirits do not decrease with the Moon. I rather suspect he rejoices at the discovery of your 'ruling passion' for mischief in private."

Having never met Augusta in person, Annabella's freely offered information about bedroom matters must be seen as an attempt to draw boundaries. He is mine, not yours. It seems clear that she suspected something untoward may have passed between her husband and her new sister-in-law at some point and was eager to let it be known that such behavior would not be repeated, if she could help it.

Augusta Byron (1783-1851), later The Honourable Augusta Leigh, was the half-sister of Lord Byron. Public Domain.

Within a few weeks, Augusta countered with an invitation to her home at Six Mile Bottom. Her husband, Colonel Leigh, would not be at home for a time, and on March 9, the couple ended their honeymoon and headed south.

Arguably, this interlude between Halnaby, Seaham, and their eventual home in London, was a terrible mistake. If Byron had managed to avoid seeing Augusta for a little while longer, the couple's marriage might have stood a chance. But in Annabella's mind, the worst was over. She was learning how to deal with Byron, to make light of his comments that she would be better off alone. In fact, during one rare moment of ease, Byron said to Annabella, "You married me to make me happy, didn't you? Well, then, you do make me happy."

The black violence had passed, and Byron seemed content. "He was not content if I was away from him except on the black days when he would shut himself up in frenzied gloom." Presumably, Annabella took comfort in this and the idea of better days to come. Sadly for her, these were some of the better days of her marriage.

As the carriage pulled into Six Mile Bottom, Byron at first insisted upon meeting his sister alone and darted headlong into the house. When Annabella joined him, he was upset, nearly frantic. Augusta was not there to greet them. A few moments later, Augusta did appear and greeted Annabella guardedly. Annabella was disappointed. How could she not be? After the enthusiastic and intimate letters the two women had shared over the past two months, she was now to be greeted with such stiff regard. Even so, brother and sister warmly clasped one another, and Annabella left them for a time, knowing they had much catching up to do. At least, that was what she told herself. In truth, she couldn't have stayed another moment. She couldn't have watched their connection and heartfelt emotion. It would have broken her heart.

Later that night, Annabella lay in bed above the room in which her husband and his half-sister laughed and talked until all hours. And every evening thereafter, Annabella had to endure the subtle suggestions that she leave them and go to bed. And then there were the blatant taunts from Byron: "We can amuse ourselves without you, my charmer."

Annabella was deeply hurt and confused. "He never spent a moment with me that could be avoided, & even got up early in the morning (contrary to his general habit) to leave me and to go to her."

The bliss of Halnaby and Seaham was all but forgotten.

Next Week: Locked to a Lord for Life

Source:
Eisler, Benita. Byron: Child of Passion, Fool of Fame. Alfred A. Knopf. New York: 1999.

Lord Byron's Marriage: The First Week

This month I'm blogging about Lord Byron's marriage to Annabella Milbanke. They were married January 2, 1815--opposite types brought together by status and Society and doomed from the start. Annabella was devout in her faith and sheltered from the world for most of her life; Byron was worldly-wise--so much so that he considered himself cursed.

The morning after their wedding, Annabella awoke with what she described as "perhaps the deadliest chill that ever fell on my heart." Even now, no doubt, she wondered if she had made a terrible mistake. He had, after all, spent the majority of their wedding day telling her she should have married someone else. The second day was no different.

"It's too late now ... it's s done ... it cannot be undone." Byron repeatedly chanted these lines over the first weeks of their marriage. "I am a villain--I could convince you of it in three words." These words were coupled by his insistence that his family on both sides (the Gordons and the Byrons) were defiled by insanity and suicides. He punctuated this insistence a few weeks later by spurring on an argument regarding some material Annabella had read, grabbing a dagger that was left on display, and rushing into his bedroom where he locked himself in.

In fact, the material that caused such a ruckus was John Dryden's eighteenth century play, Don Sebastien. The story features an incestuous relationship between a brother and a sister who do not realize they are related. Byron had already planted seeds of doubt regarding his relationship with his half-sister, Augusta. He had read some of Augusta's letters aloud to Annabella, making sure she heard his half-sister's lines of endearment for him such as, "Dearest, first and best of human beings." He had also made it clear that no one loved, understood, or entertained him as well as Augusta.

Desperate for help, Annabella wrote to Augusta on the fourth of January and asked her to join them on their honeymoon. It seems illogical, to invite the very person of whom she was suspicious, but one might imagine that at this time, she was only beginning to connect the dots. Most likely Annabella had more questions than anything, and in fact, within that first letter, she sent a list of them to Augusta. One of the questions was whether or not Augusta would be her friend--perhaps her "only friend."

Augusta sent a response that she could not come away from her young family at home (she and her husband had many children), but that she would be Augusta's "only friend." Augusta's letters were lighthearted, somewhat childish in tone, but she also included advice as to how her brother might be governed. Augusta suggested Byron was best managed when his black moods were ignored. Annabella should make light of them; instead, she should tease him or jokingly admonish his bad behavior.

This may have been the best way to deal with Byron, but joking and teasing was not really within Annabella's wheelhouse. It would have been impossible for her to muster such good nature during the nights when Byron locked himself in his room with loaded pistols. Later, he would explain his behavior away. He'd been depressed over their money situation, and anyway, he'd caught a cold the day of their wedding. I

t would take about a week for Byron to settle into his new situation and accept that this was his life now ... with Annabella. On January 7, it would appear that his black mood had lifted and he acted as though nothing had happened or was amiss.

Annabella was only too relieved that money and illness were the only causes of his violent tantrums and tirades. Now they could carry on happily, couldn't they?

Next Week: Annabella and Augusta Meet

Source:

Eisler, Benita. Byron: Child of Passion, Fool of Fame. Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. New York: 1999.

Lord Byron's Marriage: The "Treacle" Moon

During the month of January, I will be writing about the first days of Lord Byron’s marriage to Annabella Milbanke.

Over the course of his life, Byron suffered many things. Born with a clubbed foot, he was often victimized by bullies, who ridiculed him. His father abandoned him at a young age, and Byron and his mother had a fractious relationship. He loved his half-sister, Augusta, and when they were reunited as adults, his attachment to her became one of an inappropriate nature. All of these wounds played into his self-proclaimed cursed state.

Annabella Milbanke knew some of these things about her husband before entering into the marriage; some of them she didn’t. After all, before their marriage, the couple hadn’t spent much time together—a day here, a day there. The majority of their courtship had been via letter.

Now, Annabella would meet the real Byron.

Lord and Lady Byron set out for their honeymoon on the second day of January, 1815. With his usual wit and sarcasm, Byron called it their “treacle moon” … in truth, it was less sweet than it was sour. Although there were some moments of promise within those weeks, the couple’s first day of marriage was nothing less than a disaster.

As their carriage pulled away from Annabella’s hometown of Seaham, Byron transformed. Annabella later said that his “countenance changed to gloom and defiance.” Byron began to sing “in a wild manner”—a coping mechanism he would employ throughout their marriage whenever he was enraged or defeated. But on this first occasion, Annabella was frightened. She scarcely recognized the man sitting next to her, who suddenly filled the carriage with a loud, raucous voice. Even so, Annabella was a quiet, highly disciplined woman, who most likely endured the bad behavior with no reaction.

Perhaps to further distress his new bride, Byron verbally attacked Annabella. “You had better married [another], he would have made you a better husband.” In written accounts of this event, Annabella omitted the name of the person Byron suggested. In fact, she’d had ample opportunity to marry other men. She’d had plenty of suitors, but Byron had been her choice. According to Byron, she would suffer for her choice. She should never have married him. He was a Byron and cursed, and now she would feel the effects of it. He chastised her for not marrying him sooner; if she had, he argued, he might not have committed some of his more grievous sins.

Each of these taunting, vindictive words, like slaps, made Annabella heartsick. When the couple reached a resting point, the Inn at Rushford, Byron turned on her again. “I wonder how much longer I shall be able to keep up the part I have been playing.” When they reached the spot for their honeymoon (one of the Milbanke’s houses, Halnaby Hall near Darlington), servants noticed the pained expression on Annabella’s face as she emerged from the carriage. Her husband disembarked and limped away. He did not look back at her, and he certainly did not hand her down from the carriage.

Undoubtedly, the reality of his own choices dawned on him during that carriage ride. He had really done it. He’d married her. Whether out of convenience, spite, or revenge, he’d gone through with the nuptials. Now he was trapped. And on top of it all, he had caught a cold.

Byron’s memoir (later burned by his friends) recounted that he “had Lady Byron on the sofa before dinner on the day of their marriage.” Later that night, he agreed to allow his wife to sleep in the bed with him. He didn’t like to share a bed with his lovers, and he was vexed by the idea of having to do so now, but he finally relented. Even so, he cruelly reminded Annabella that “one animal of the kind was as good to him as another”--another attempt to insult her and divulge that their union had little meaning to him.

There are a few different versions of their first night finale. One account was that Byron awoke, and glimpsing a burning candle through the red curtains around the bed, he shouted, “Good God! I am in hell!” In another version, Byron imagined himself as Orpheus in hell with Prosperpine, prompting the same response and waking Annabella.

These first days of marriage were far from harmonious ones for the Byrons, but they were only the beginning. There was more to come as the snow fell around Halnaby, trapping the less-than-happy couple inside.

Next week: The honeymoon drags on…

Sources:

Crane, David. The Kindness of Sisters: Annabella Milbanke and the Destruction of the Byrons. Alfred A. Knopf, New York: 2002.

MacCarthy, Fiona. Byron: Life and Legend. Farar, Straus and Giroux, New York: 2002.

Marrying Byron: The Day of the Ceremony

Most young women dream about their wedding day. It’s not always a perfect day (in fact, rarely so), but it’s usually one of the most exciting in a woman’s life.

("Bridal dress'"Ackermann's Repository of Arts, Literature, Commerce, Manufactures, Fashion and Politics, June 1816.) 

Annabella Milbanke had been waiting several months for her wedding day with Lord George Gordon Byron. He had delayed his journey to her parent’s home several times, but two months later than she’d anticipated, in January of 1815, the event finally took place.

A day that should have been marked by anticipation and excitement was marred by nervous apprehension and anxiety. Byron’s last visit to Seaham had been in November when he’d stayed two weeks. During that time, Annabella succumbed to a shyness that rendered her quiet and skittish. Most likely, the long absence between their meeting and their engagement (they had only seen each other a few times in London and the engagement had been arranged through letters) had given her time to build him up in her mind. Indeed, by the day of their marriage it would seem Annabella had allowed the term she coined for other women’s wild idolization of Byron, “Byromania,” to manifest as reality in her own heart. Despite her natural practicality and staid disposition, Annabella adored her fiancé.

(portrait of Lord Byron by Richard Westall)

Byron had viewed Annabella’s silence as prudishness and told his lawyer, John Hanson, that he “never liked prudes,” but he quickly added that he found Annabella “clever,” and the fact she knew Greek and Latin was a bonus. Sadly, Byron was not in love with Annabella. She had been a willing participant in an arrangement of necessary arrangement—marriage—in order to satisfy Society and stave off anymore crazy antics of his stalker, Lady Caroline Lamb.

The wedding took place January 2, 1815, in the drawing room of the Milbanke’s home in Seaham. There were only a few people present besides the couple and the minister: Annabella’s parents, Byron’s best friend John Hobhouse, and Annabella’s former governess, Mrs. Clermont. Annabella took time with her vows, pronouncing them with great care and staring adoringly at Byron as she spoke them. Byron stumbled over his, but took a moment to cast a frown in Hobhouse’s direction when he came to the vow that required him to say, “With all my worldly goods I thee endow.” Byron was deeply in debt by that time and counted on Annabella’s worldy goods to help with his creditors.

After the ceremony had ended, the couple had signed the registry, and congratulations had circulated, the scene turned somber.  Annabella emerged teary-eyed in her going-away attire. She would be leaving her parents for good to live in London. Byron’s countenance must have been dire, for Hobhouse later noted that he felt as though he had “buried a friend.”

As Annabella was handed into the carriage, Hobhouse wished her great joy in her marriage. “If I am not happy it will be my own fault.” Her words suggested a hopefulness that her marriage would be a success and an understanding that it was she who had wanted this marriage to happen, regardless of her own misgivings, her family’s warnings, and Byron’s waffling right up to the hour of the event. Annabella was in love with him and still under the delusion that he loved her too.  

As the carriage pulled away, Seaham’s church bells rang and six men fired muskets to celebrate their marriage. Byron clutched his friend’s hand so tightly through the open carriage window that Hobhouse finally had to pull away.

According to letters Annabella later penned, their harmony in marriage lasted approximately five minutes. In fact, it did not extend beyond their journey through Annabella’s hometown of Seaham.

Next time: The honeymoon

Source: MacCarthy, Fiona. Byron: Life and Legend. Farrar, Straus and Giroux. New York: 2002.

The Beginning of Lord Byron's Marital Nightmare

Sometime this coming year, my first Regency novel will be released. Dangerous to Know is the first in a trilogy and loosely based upon the disastrous marriage of Lord Byron to Annabella Milbanke. I thought it might be fun for the next month to discuss days leading up to their marriage and the ones that followed it. The couple was married in January of 1815, and much of Lord and Lady Byron’s marriage was dramatic and unhappy, a cautionary tale of why two such types should never marry.

(By Thomas Phillips - NPG, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=374342)

Annabella was devout in her faith and sadly deluded in the notion that she could tame Byron’s dark, agnostic, and brooding soul. Although there was a physical attraction on both sides, the unequal spiritual state of the couple was profound. Their childhood experiences were vastly different. Byron’s father was an abhorrent character who showed no real affection for his wife or his child and abandoned them when Byron was just a little boy. Byron suffered physical and sexual abuse at the hands of his nurse, and although well-born, his mother was a foul-mouthed glutton who did nothing for Byron’s opinion of women. Annabella had grown up, sheltered, in a small coastal town. She was a deeply loved only child raised by parents who were thankful to have any offspring at all.  In short, these young people's very different expectations of marriage and love were completely lost in a world where social status and financial viability were revered above the importance of compatible temperaments.  

(By Creator: Charles Hayter - National Portrait Gallery, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5086529)

It should also be mentioned that Lord Byron was unnaturally attached to his half-sister, Augusta Leigh, and most scholars agree that the pair were involved in a scandalous union. This was most likely part of the reason why Byron moved slowly toward his marriage ceremony, several days’ travel north in the county of Durham.

“Never was a lover in less haste,” said his friend John Hobhouse, who traveled north with him. In fact, the Milbankes had expected Byron by Christmas, and when he finally arrived several days later on December 30^th, Lady Milbanke was so distraught that she promptly took to her bed chambers. Assumedly, she thought her future son-in-law’s delay signaled that her daughter might be spared the dubious nuptials.

Annabella had so anxiously awaited her beloved’s arrival that when she saw him, she threw her arms around him and sobbed. While looking on, John Hobhouse could only conclude that Annabella was “fond” of her betrothed as she gazed “with delight upon his animated bust.”

In the next few days, one last ditch effort was made to end the engagement. Apparently at Byron’s request, Hobhouse pulled aside the clergyman set to marry them and begged that he might call it off on the grounds that the Milbanke’s didn’t really understand they were marrying their daughter to a man who harbored the potential for violence. The attempt did not work, and the clergyman said it was too late for such words. In fact, Byron had tried to wriggle out of the engagement before, but now as the day and hour approached, it would seem his apprehension grew into a near panic. When it seemed the efforts were hopeless, however, Byron apparently resigned himself.

He shared one last evening alone with his friend Hobhouse, stating the obvious in the most morose language: “This is our last night. Tomorrow I shall be Annabella’s.”

The next day would mark the beginning of Byron’s and Annabella’s marital nightmare.

To be continued…

Source:

MacCarthy, Fiona. Byron: Life and Legend. Farar, Straus and Giroux. New York: 2002

Regency Films at Christmas: Pride and Prejudice

When I was twenty-three, I was blessed to live in England for a year. During that time, the BBC mini-series of Pride and Prejudice was in full-swing. People were going bonkers over the electric chemistry of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, played by Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth. Over twenty years later, this version remains a favorite of many P & P fans.

The mini-series was broadcast throughout the fall of 1995, and by Christmas many of my coworkers and friends were receiving the boxset as a gift. A friend gave me the full series, and during that winter I watched it over and over again, practically memorizing every word of every episode. That was also the first year I spent Christmas away from home and family. I suffered from homesickness and loneliness, and there was something soothing about the show and the familiarity and appeal of the characters. I never grew tired of watching it.

For the past five years or so, I've made a point of watching Pride and Prejudice around the Christmas season. It reminds me of that time in my life when I lived and worked in London and tried to absorb the English culture and way of life. Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy remain two of my favorite literary characters, and Ehle's and Firth's portrayal of this couple is, in my opinion, unsurpassed by other film versions.

For those who have never read the book or seen the mini-series, this is a story about manners, morality, status, and the class structure in 19th century England. If you haven't read the book, I can only suggest reading it. If you haven't seen the 1995 mini-series, I believe you will be positively changed by doing so. (I know that sounds a bit melodramatic, but I can only tell you that Colin Firth emerging from Pemberley's lake in a wet and disheveled state will rock your world).

I won't waste space here summarizing the plot, but I will include a link to the first episode of the mini-series. Your Christmas will be merrier if you watch the entire series!

I wish a truly blessed and merry Christmas to you and yours and a very happy new year! 

Regency Films at Christmas: Emma

Emma was the first Jane Austen book I ever read. Although it's not my favorite Jane Austen novel, it maintains a special place in my heart because it introduced me to the Regency world and Mr. Knightley.

(By Chris Hammond (illustrator) - Houghton Library at Harvard University, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=34960748)

For those who don't know the story (and if you don't know it, then don't walk but run to the nearest bookstore, or computer with Internet, to procure a copy), Emma Woodhouse is a spoiled, proud, and beautiful young woman who has lived all of her life quite comfortably with her father in Highbury. She is overly confident in all of her abilities, most notably those which have to do with matchmaking and meddling in the lives of others. Although Emma has no desire to marry, she takes great pleasure in finding potential mates for all of her friends and acquaintances.

Mr. Knightley, a lifelong friend of the family whose brother is married to Emma's sister, is seventeen years older than Emma. He is a kind, compassionate, and highly principled man, and he enjoys correcting Emma in some of her erroneous assumptions and deeds. Emma sees him in the light of an older brother or cousin, and from the outset it looks as though he sees her as a younger sister, but when she is pursued by a couple of young men, Mr. Knightley is jealous. It takes longer for Emma to see Mr. Knightley in a romantic light, but the charm of the story stems from seeing her character's development and maturity. An eventual comeuppance turns Emma's heart toward Mr. Knightley's quiet benevolence and turns her eyes inward toward her own entitled and selfish motivations. The result is Emma's growth, change, and understanding.

There are several movie versions of this novel, but my favorite is the 2009 BBC mini-series starring Romola Garai and Jonny Lee Miller. I especially love to watch it around this time of year (even though Emma spans through all seasons), for the wonderful scene at the Weston's Christmas party when Mr. Elton makes his feelings known to Emma, and all of the guests are aflutter at the prospect of being "snowed in" by the lightly falling flakes.

You can watch the whole episode below (from YouTube), but the scene I've mentioned begins around minute seventeen. I could watch this mini-series over and over again and never tire of it.

What movies or shows compel you to watch them over and over again?

Historical Christmas Films: The Amazing Mr. Blunden

Many of us watch and enjoy traditional Christmas movies around this time of year. It’s a Wonderful Life, The Grinch Stole Christmas, and The Christmas Story are just some of the classic movies broadcast every year on television and watched in our homes.

Although not necessarily Christmas-themed movies or miniseries, I have a number of historical pieces I make a point of watching every year during this season. Over the next few weeks, I will feature a few of them.

Even as a little girl I was an Anglophile. I attribute this to my grandfather’s adoration of Great Britain and of all things British. He used to watch BBC television shows and sometimes I would watch them with him.

One Christmas, when I was around five years old, a movie called The Amazing Mr. Blunden came on HBO. I must have watched it every time it was scheduled, for I memorized the entire thing. I loved it so much that recorded my own version of an audiobook of the movie. I carried my little tape recorder into the basement bathroom (for purpose of acoustics—it echoed in there) and performed all of the parts, using different voices and a pretty authentic English accent for a five-year-old Tennessee girl.

Based on The Ghosts, Antonia Barber’s novel, The Amazing Mr. Blunden was made in 1972 and stars Laurence Naismith as Mr. Blunden. Mr. Blunden is a mysterious and magical London solicitor. One Christmas he appears to a poor single mother and her two children (brother and sister, Jamie and Lucy) living in Camden Town and offers them a living situation in a vacant country mansion, if they will simply look after the place and clean it up a bit.

Once there, Jamie and Lucy encounter two young ghosts, brother and sister--Georgie and Sarah, who suggest something bad happened to cause their deaths. When Jamie and Lucy learn of a potion that will transport them back in time, they drink it and wake to find themselves in a different era, solving the mystery of what happened to young Sarah and Georgie and attempting to change history.

This is a family film—there’s nothing scary in it, despite the ghosts. It’s an atmospheric adventure story—a hero’s quest with a great message. And … well, it’s very English, so what’s not to like? By the way, you can watch the whole thing on YouTube!

What was your favorite Christmas film as a child?

Regency Elopements: Edward Gibbon Wakefield and Ellen Turner

Elopements were not always based on love and desire. The Gretna Green histories chronicle some tales in which marriages were accomplished through force and/or lies. Indeed, deception and greed was at the helm of the 1826 elopement of Edward Gibbon Wakefield and fifteen-year-old Ellen Turner.

Early in his life, Wakefield served as the King’s Messenger during the Napoleonic wars, carrying letters throughout Europe. In 1816 he married (also by elopement) an heiress, who later died after complications in childbirth.

Although he had received a settlement of seventy thousand pounds from his first marriage, Wakefield was greedy. He needed more money if he was to live the way he wished and someday become a member of Parliament.

Enlisting his brother’s help, Wakefield devised a plan in which he would lure the wealthy mill’s daughter, Ellen Turner, away from her girl’s school in Liverpool with what appeared to be an official doctor's letter stating her mother was ill and calling for her.

The cruel plan worked. Eager to see her mother, Ellen left the school accompanied by her family’s butler to Manchester. There, she was led to private rooms where she met with Mr. Edward Gibbon Wakefield, a handsome, charming man who claimed to be a friend of her father’s.

Edward not only calmed and assured young Ellen that her mother was quite well, but he won her over with his smile and polite manners. She was immediately smitten. When he told her that her father insisted they travel together to Kendal to meet him, Ellen obliged. Once in Kendal, Wakefield informed her that her father would not be coming. Instead, he had terrible news. Her father’s business was ruined. Wakefield produced a supposed letter from a solicitor suggesting Ellen and Wakefield marry at once in order to preserve her father’s failing fortune. Ellen eagerly obliged. She wanted to help her father, and it was in no way a hardship since this man was good-looking and seemingly benevolent of spirit. She agreed, and off they went to Gretna Green.

The marriage took place and the couple left immediately, bound for Calais, France. Fortunately, they were intercepted by Ellen’s uncles. One can only imagine the scene that took place in Calais as the uncles explained that her father was perfectly well, his money in perfect order. Much to her horror, they detailed for the young woman the con man’s intentions to lay hold of her fortune.    

A national scandal ensued known as the “Shrigley Abduction” as Wakefield stood trial in March of 1827. Convicted of kidnapping and felonious marriage, he was sentenced to three years in Newgate Prison and the marriage was annulled.

Even after this, he committed forgery (although it was never proven) in an attempt to extract more money through his deceased wife’s father’s will, but the plan failed.

Despite a sullied reputation, in the 1830s Wakefield became a politician responsible for orchestrating British immigration to Australia and New Zealand as a solution to overcrowding. He spent much of his later years in New Zealand as an influential politician and Member of Parliament.

Ellen Turner married legally and by choice at the age of seventeen to a man who shared her status and position.

Just as they have done since the beginning of time, con artists still swindle unsuspecting folks today. What do you think is the reason people fall for a con artist’s ploy?

Other sites on the topic of Regency elopement:

www.gretnagreen.com

https://janeaustensworld.wordpress.com/tag/regency-elopement/

Regency Elopements: Lord Erskine and Sarah Buck

During the Regency era, elopements to Gretna Green, Scotland often involved some degree of scandal. No different was the elopement of sixty-six-year-old John Francis Ashley Erskine, 1^st baron of Erskine. During the course of his life, Lord Erskine was a midshipman, a lawyer, and a member of parliament (Lord High Chancellor). He wed his first wife, Frances Moore, in 1770. They were married for thirty-five years and had eight children.  Frances passed away in 1805.

(image from Wikipedia.com)

Sarah Buck was his housekeeper and mistress, and by 1818 they had two illegitimate children. Scottish law allowed illegitimate children to be declared legitimate by way of marriage (even after the fact), so off to Gretna Green Erskine went with his mistress (thirty years his junior) and two bastard children in tow.

Erskine’s eight legitimate children and heirs vehemently disapproved of the marriage (and the idea that their inheritance was in jeopardy), and when Thomas, the eldest, discovered his father gone with the housekeeper, he rode off after them into the night.  Here, two differing accounts emerge, both involving disguise and deception. The account chronicled by Peter Orlando Hutchinson insists that Lord Erskine merely disguised himself in plainclothes and declared his name a “Mr. Thomas.” A second version of the story appears to have derived from various sources. In this account, Erskine traveled in elaborate costume wearing a wig, leghorn bonnet, and a long, flowing cape. When asked, he declared himself to be Sarah Buck’s mother.

(A satirical print found at the British Museum)

During the ceremony and in accordance with the Scottish superstition, the children were supposedly hidden beneath Sarah’s cloak to give the impression that they were as yet “unborn.” The marriage took place at the King’s Head uninterrupted by Erskine’s son, who arrived too late to put a stop to the nuptials. Thomas’s reaction to his father’s newly married state was supposedly so violent as to incite a quarrel with his new stepmother, thereby causing a gathering of villager-voyeurs, who later recounted the story in what, some say, was embellished detail.

Erskine was a man of many interesting, idealistic, and romantic pursuits. He went on to write Armata, a romance novel, which apparently sold well. He also defended the cause of Greek Independence as well as that of animals. A lifelong lover of animals, Erskine introduced a bill into the House of Lords in an effort to stop animal cruelty, although it did not pass due to the gentlemen’s love of fox hunting and horse racing.

Sadly, the marriage between Erskine and his housekeeper was ill-fated, and the couple separated within a few years. After his death, Sarah did not inherit his wealth, and she ended with many children of her own to care for and only a charitable allowance upon which to live. She lived for over thirty years after Erskine’s death.

I want to take this moment to wish everyone a happy, blessed, and safe Thanksgiving!