Our last chapter brought us into the presence of that vivacious specimen of royalty, George IV., who “shuffled off this mortal coil” in the year 1830, and was succeeded by that rough-edged, seafaring brother of his, William IV. This admiral-king was not brilliant; but we found brilliancy--of a sort--in the acute and disputatious essayist, William Hazlitt; yet he was far less companionable than acute, and contrasted most unfavorably with that serene and most worthy gentleman, Hallam, the historian. We next encountered the accomplished and showy Lady Blessington--the type of many a one who throve in those days, and who had caught somewhat of the glitter that radiated from the royal trappings of George the Fourth. We saw Bulwer, among others, in her salon; and we lingered longer over the wonderful career of that Disraeli, who died as Lord Beaconsfield--the most widely known man in Great Britain. We then passed to a consideration of that other wonderful adventurer--yet the inheritor of an English peerage--who had made his futile beginning in politics, and a larger beginning in poetry. To his career, which was left half-finished, we now recur. _Lord Byron a Husband._ As we left him--you will remember--there was a jangle of marriage-bells; and a wearisome jangle it proved. Indeed Byron’s marriage-bells were so preposterously out of tune, and lent their discord in such disturbing manner to the whole current of his life, that it may be worth our while to examine briefly the conditions under which the discord began. It is certain that all the gossips of London had been making prey of this match of the poetic hero of the hour for much time before its consummation. Was he seeking a fortune? Not the least in the world; for though the burden of debt upon his estates was pressing him sorely, and his extravagances were reckless, yet large sums accruing from his swift-written tales of the “Corsair,” “Lara,” and “Bride of Abydos” were left untouched, or lavishly bestowed upon old or new friends; his liberality in those days was most exceptional; nor does it appear that he had any very definite notion of the pecuniary aid which his bride might bring to him. She had, indeed, in her own right, what was a small sum measured by their standards of living; and her expectancies, that might have justified the title of heiress (which he sometimes gives to her in his journal), were then quite remote.