un-English in taste, had, moreover,
through his long stay abroad, given up the peculiarities of English
habits. He did not dine every day, and when he did it was a cenobite's
meal, little suited to the taste of a true Englishman. He breakfasted on
a cup of green tea, without sugar, and the yolk of an egg, which was
swallowed standing. The comfortable fireside, the indispensable
roast-beef, and the regular evening tea, were not appreciated by him;
and, indeed, it was a real pain to him to see women eat at all. Not one
of his young wife's habits was shared by him. He did not think his soul
lost by going to bed at dawn, for he liked to write at night; or by
doing other things at what she called irregular hours; and he must have
been at least astonished on hearing himself asked, three weeks after
marriage, _when he intended giving up his versifying habits_?

But he did not give them up; nor could he have done so had he wished it.
Lady Byron must have flattered herself with the idea of ruling him, of
showing the world her power over her husband. As long as their resources
sufficed for a life of luxury, both parties might have cherished
illusion, and put off reflection. But when creditors, attracted by the
name of the wealthy heiress--who in reality had only brought her
expectations with her--began to pour in, and that pecuniary
embarrassment and humiliations were added to home incompatibilities,
then, perhaps, Lord Byron became irritable sometimes, and Lady Byron
must have felt more than ever the painful absence of those comforts
whose enjoyment cause many other annoyances to be forgotten. She must
often have compared her life then, full of mortifications, and, perhaps,
of solitude, with the one so comfortable and agreeable (for her) she
formerly led at Kirby Mallory, in the midst of her relatives. Indeed,
they had spent two months there, both saying they were happy; for at
this period of the honey-moon, Lord Byron, kind as he was, doubtless
yielded to all the caprices and habits of his hosts. Nevertheless,
through the veil of his customary jests and assurances to Moore that he
was quite satisfied, it is easy to see how tired he was, and how little
the life at Seaham was suited to him.

"I am in such a state of sameness and stagnation, and so totally
occupied in consuming the fruits, and sauntering, and playing dull games
at cards, and yawning, and trying to read old 'Annual Registers' and the
daily papers, and gathering sh