In reference to the circumstance of his being an only child, Lord
Byron, in one of his journals, mentions some curious coincidences in
his family, which, to a mind disposed as his was to regard every thing
connected with himself as out of the ordinary course of events, would
naturally appear even more strange and singular than they are. "I have
been thinking," he says, "of an odd circumstance. My daughter (1), my
wife (2), my half-sister (3), my mother (4), my sister's mother (5),
my natural daughter (6), and myself (7), are, or were, all _only_
children. My sister's mother (Lady Conyers) had only my half-sister by
that second marriage, (herself, too, an only child,) and my father had
only me, an only child, by his second marriage with my mother, an only
child too. Such a complication of _only_ children, all tending to
_one_ family, is singular enough, and looks like fatality almost." He
then adds, characteristically, "But the fiercest animals have the
fewest numbers in their litters, as lions, tigers, and even elephants,
which are mild in comparison."

From London, Mrs. Byron proceeded with her infant to Scotland; and, in
the year 1790, took up her residence in Aberdeen, where she was soon
after joined by Captain Byron. Here for a short time they lived
together in lodgings at the house of a person named Anderson, in Queen
Street. But their union being by no means happy, a separation took
place between them, and Mrs. Byron removed to lodgings at the other
end of the street.[11] Notwithstanding this schism, they for some
time continued to visit, and even to drink tea with each other; but
the elements of discord were strong on both sides, and their
separation was, at last, complete and final. He would frequently,
however, accost the nurse and his son in their walks, and expressed a
strong wish to have the child for a day or two, on a visit with him.