Strictures on change of manners—Moral influence of dress—The three
beauties—Curious trial respecting Lady M—— —Termination favourable to
her Ladyship—Interesting and affecting incidents of that lady’s
life—Sir R—— M——, his character, and cruelty—Lady M—— married against
her will—Quits her husband—Returns—Sir R. mistakes her for a rebel in
his sleep, and nearly strangles her.
It is singular enough, but at the same time true, that female beauty has
of late years kept pace in improvement with modern accomplishments. She
who in the early part of my life would have been accounted a perfect
beauty,—and whose touch upon a harpsichord or spinnet, accompanied by a
simple air sung with what they then called “judgment,” (in tune,) would
have constituted her a syren as well as a Venus, would now be passed by
merely as “a pretty girl, but such a confounded _bore_ with her music!”
In fact, women fifty years since (and much later) not being, generally
speaking, thrust into society till they had arrived at the age of
maturity, were more respected, more beloved, and more sedulously
attended than in these days, when the men seem to have usurped the
ladies’ corsets, to affect their voices, practise their gait, imitate
their small-talk, and, in surtouts and trowsers, hustle ladies off the
foot-paths, to save their own dog-skins from humidity.
This degradation of both sexes has arisen from various causes. Beauty is
now less rare, accomplishments more common, dress less distinguished,
dignity worse preserved, and decorum less attended to, than in former
times. It is a great mistake in women not to recollect their own
importance, and keep up that just medium between reserve and familiarity
which constitutes the best criterion whereby to appreciate the manners
of a gentlewoman. But women are too apt to run into extremes in every
thing; and overlook the fact, that neither personal beauty nor
drawing-room display are calculated to form permanent attractions, even
to the most adoring lover.—The _breakfast-table_ in the morning, and
_fire-side_ in the evening, must be the ultimate touch-stones of
connubial comfort; and this is a maxim which any woman who intends to
marry should never lose sight of.
To such lengths did respect for the fair sex extend, and so strong was
the impression formerly that men were bound to protect it even from
accidental offence, that I remember the time, (indeed I witnessed two
instances,) when, if any gentleman presumed to pass between a lady and
the wall in walking the streets of Dublin, he was considered as offering
a personal affront to her escort; and if the parties wore swords, (as
was then customary,) it is probable the first salutation to the offender
would be—“Draw, sir!” However, such affairs usually ended in an apology
to the lady for inadvertence, scarcely ever proceeding to extremities
unless the offence was premeditated.
But if a man ventured to intrude into the boxes of the theatre in his
surtout, or boots, or with his hat on, it was regarded as a general
insult to every lady present, and he had little chance of escaping
without a shot or a thrust before the following night. Every gentleman
then wore in the evening a sword, a queue, and a three-cocked
hat—appointments rather too fierce-looking for the modern dandy! whilst
the morning dress consisted of what was then called a French frock,
(having no skirt-pockets,) a waistcoat bordered with lace, velvet or
silk breeches, silk stockings, pumps, and a _couteau de chasse_, with a
short, curved broad blade—the handle of green ivory, with a lion’s head
in silver or gilt at the end, and a treble chain dangling loose from its
mouth, terminating at an ornamented cross or guard, which surmounted the
green scabbard. Such was the costume: but although either the male or
female attire of that day might now appear rather grotesque, yet people
of fashion had then the exclusive dress and air of such, and ladies ran
no risk of being copied in garb or manner, or rivalled, perhaps
surpassed, by their pretty waiting-maids—now called “young persons!”—who
not unfrequently first ape, then traduce, and next supplant, their
mistresses. The _nice_ young governesses also, (of twenty,) now selected
to instruct young ladies of seventeen, present a modern system of
education to which, I believe, Doctors Commons is under obligation.
The Irish court at that period was kept up with great state, and hence
the parties who frequented it were more select. I recollect when the
wives and daughters of attorneys (who now, I believe, are the general
occupiers of the red benches, then solely the seats of nobles) were
never admitted to the viceregal drawing-rooms. How far the present
growing system of equality in appearance among different ranks will
eventually benefit or injure society in general, is for casuists, not
for me, to determine. I must, however, take occasion to own myself an
admirer, and (whenever it is proper) a zealous contender for distinction
of ranks; and to state my decided opinion, that superior talents,
learning, military reputation, or some other quality which raises men by
general assent, should alone be permitted to amalgamate common with high
society. Nature, by conferring talent, points out those whom she
intended to distinguish: but “free agency” too frequently counteracts
the _intention_ of Nature, and great talent is often overpowered, and
lost in a crowd of inferior propensities.
It is an observation I have always made, (although it may be perhaps
considered a frivolous one,) that dress has a moral effect upon the
conduct of mankind. Let any gentleman find himself with dirty boots, old
surtout, soiled neckcloth, and a general negligence of dress, he will,
in all probability, find a corresponding disposition to negligence of
address. He may, _en deshabille_, curse and swear, speak roughly and
think coarsely: but put the same man into full dress; powder, or at
least curl him well, clap a sword by his side, and give him an evening
coat, waistcoat, breeches, and silk stockings, lace ruffles and a
_chapeau bras_, and he will feel himself quite another person!—To use
the language of the blackguard would then be out of character: he will
talk smoothly, affect politeness if he has it not, pique himself upon
good manners, and respect the women: nor will the spell subside until,
returning home, the old _robe de chambre_ (or its substitute surtout),
the heelless slippers, with other slovenly appendages, make him lose
again his brief consciousness of being a gentleman!
Some women mistake the very nature and purposes of dress: glaring
abroad, they are slatterns at home. The husband detests in his _sposa_
what he is too apt to practise himself: he rates a dirty wife; she
retorts upon a filthy husband, and each of them detests the other for
that neglect of person which neither will take the trouble of avoiding,
except to encounter strangers.
Two ladies, about the period of my entrance into public life, and
another some time after, became very conspicuous for their beauty,
though extremely different in all points both of appearance and manners.
They still live:—two of them I greatly admired—not for beauty alone, but
for an address the most captivating; and one of these, especially, for
the kindest heart and the soundest sense, when she gave it fair play,
that I have (often) met with amongst females.
In admitting my great preference for this individual lady, I may,
perhaps, be accused of partiality, less to herself than to a family:—be
it so!—she was the wife of my friend, and I esteem her for his sake: but
she is an excellent woman, and I esteem the Honourable Mrs. C.
Hutchinson also for her own.
Another of the ladies alluded to, Lady M—, is a gentlewoman of high
birth, and was then, though not _quite_ a beauty, in all points
attractive: indeed, her entire person was symmetrical and graceful. She
passed her spring in misfortune—her summer in misery—her autumn without
happiness!—but I hope the winter of her days is spent amidst every
comfort. Of the third lady I have not yet spoken:—though far inferior to
both the former, she has succeeded better in life than either; and,
beginning the world without any pretensions beyond mediocrity, is likely
to end her days in ease and more than ordinary respectability.
My first knowledge of Lady M— arose from a circumstance which was to me
of singular professional advantage; and, as it forms a curious anecdote,
I will proceed to relate it.
At the assizes of Wexford, while I was but young at the bar, I received
a brief in a cause of Sir R—— M——, Bart., against a Mr. H——. On perusal,
I found it was an action brought by the baronet against the latter
gentleman respecting his lady, and that I was retained as advocate for
the lady’s honour. It was my “first appearance” in that town. But, alas!
I had a _senior_ in the business; and therefore was without opportunity
of attempting any display. The ill-fated Bagenal Harvey[30] was that
senior counsel, and he had prepared himself to make some exhibition in a
cause of so much and such universal excitement. I felt dispirited, and
would willingly have given up twenty fees to possess his opportunity.
-----
Footnote 30:
An unfortunate friend of mine who was afterward hanged, and his head
stuck over the door of the same court-house.
-----
The cause proceeded before Judge Kelly: the evidence of Sir R—— M—— was
finished, and the proper time for the defence had arrived; every thing
as to the lady was at stake. Bagenal Harvey had gone out to take fresh
air, and probably to read over some notes, or con some florid sentences
and quotations with which he intended to interlard his elocution. At the
moment the evidence closed the judge desired me to proceed. I replied,
that Mr. Harvey, my senior, would return into court directly.
Judge Kelly, who was my friend, said he would not delay public business
one minute for anybody; and, by a sort of instinct, or rather impulse,—I
cannot indeed exactly say what it was, but certainly it was totally
_impromptu_,—I began to state her ladyship’s case. I always had words
enough at command: the evidence afforded sufficient material for their
exercise; and, in fact, being roused by the cause into a sort of
knight-errantry, I felt myself completely identified with it. If I
should succeed, it would greatly serve me. I forgot poor Bagenal Harvey,
and was just getting into the marrow and pathos of my case, when the
crier shouted out “Clear the way for Counsellor Harvey!” Bagenal came
in, puffing and blowing, and struggling through the crowd—scarcely able
to command utterance. I instantly stopped, and begged his pardon, adding
that the judge had said the public time could wait for nobody! “So,”
continued I, “let me just show you where I left off! (turning over the
leaves of my brief:)—there, begin there—it will be useless to repeat
what I have already said; so begin there.” A loud laugh succeeded.
Bagenal, though generally very good-tempered, became irritated as much
as he was susceptible of being, and whispered me that he considered it a
personal insult: while old Judge Kelly gravely said, “Go on, Mr.
Barrington, go on! we can have no speeches by dividends: go on, sir!” So
on I went, and I believe, (because every body told me so,) that my
impromptu speech was entirely successful. I discredited the witnesses by
ridicule, destroyed all sympathy with the husband, and interested every
body for the wife. In short, I got the judge and jury into good-humour.
Yet, I know not that I should have ensured a verdict, had not a certain
point of law, which I believe was then started for the first time,
occurred to me; and which, though rational in itself, and on that trial
recognised by the judge, has since been overruled in _terms_, though it
stands in _substance_;—namely, if a husband cannot truly aver that he
has sustained mental injury by the loss of that comfort arising from the
_society_ of a wife, it is anomalous to say he has any claim to damages;
and this averment can scarcely be made where the parties have been
separated voluntarily and completely for years.[31]
-----
Footnote 31:
This is, indeed, altogether a species of action, placing a price upon
dishonour, maintained in no country but England (a money country). Why
not transfer the offence to the _criminal_ side of the courts of
justice? All the rest of Europe ridicules our system. The idea
entertained on the continent upon such occasions is _silence_ or
_death_!—if not the most lucrative, certainly the most _honourable_
mode of procedure.—An _affectionate_ husband cannot be recompensed by
_any_ thing, and a _rich_ seducer cannot be _punished_. But if the
gentleman was to be sent to a _tread_-mill, and the lady to _solitary_
confinement, adultery would soon be as much out of fashion as it is
now the _haut goût_.
-----
The judge, the kindest-hearted man living, chuckled at this new point.
The jury, who did not much admire the plaintiff, were quite pleased with
my suggestion; and after the judge had given his charge, in a few
minutes, to the utter discomfiture of the baronet, there was a verdict
against him! His lips quivered; he stood pale and trembling with anger;
and subsequently quitted the town with the utmost expedition.
Some time after, a complete reconciliation took place between the
parties, so far that her ladyship consented to live with him
again—influenced much, I rather think, by having suffered great
inconvenience, if not distress, from want of regularity in the receipt
of her separate maintenance of 700_l._ per annum. I had the pleasure of
meeting her frequently afterwards at the lady lieutenant’s parties.
The conclusion of the renewed intercourse is too curious to be omitted.
Sir R—— had taken a house in Nassau Street, in the city of Dublin; and
it was thought possible that he and his wife might, at any rate, pass
some time under the same roof: but fate decided otherwise.
Sir R—— was literally insane on all political subjects, his imagination
being occupied, night and day, with nothing but papists, jesuits, popes,
priests, and rebels. Once in the dead of the night his lady was awakened
by a sense of positive suffocation, and rousing herself, found that Sir
R—— was in the very act of strangling her!—He had grasped her by the
throat with all his might, and, muttering heavy imprecations, had nearly
succeeded in his diabolical attempt.—She struggled, and at length
extricated herself from his grasp; upon which he roared out, making a
fresh effort—“You infernal _papist rebel_! you United Irishman! You
_eternal villain_! I’ll never part from you alive, if you don’t come
quietly to the guard-house!”
In fact this crazy Orange-man had in his dream fancied that he was
contesting with a rebel, whom he had better choke than suffer to escape,
and poor Lady M—— was nearly sacrificed to his excess of loyalty. In her
_robe de chambre_ and slippers she contrived to get out of the house,
and never more ventured to return, as she now clearly perceived that
even her personal safety could not be calculated on in her husband’s
society.
I have in another work given a full character of Sir R—— M——, and stated
my opinion of his worse than mischievous history of Ireland. One more
anecdote of him, and I have done.
Whilst he was high sheriff for the county of Waterford, an old man was
sentenced to be whipped at the cart’s tail for some political offence;
when, the executioner not being in readiness, the _high sheriff_,—a
baronet and member of Parliament,—took up the cat-o’-nine-tails, ordered
the cart to move on _slowly_, and operated himself with admirable
expertness, but much greater severity than the hangman would have
used!—Thus did he proceed to whip the old man through the streets of the
city; and when the extreme point was reached, the sentence executed, and
he was scarcely able to raise his arm, he publicly regretted he had not
a little farther to go!
Lady M—— was, in her own right, entitled to a fortune of 15,000_l._, to
be paid only on her marriage. Her father, a gentleman of rank and
estate, had by some mismanagement in office become extremely
embarrassed. Sir R— M—, a man of family, but whose fortune was not
large, cast his eye on her beauty—not totally overlooking her property.
His taste was indisputably good; the lady being, at that period, every
thing that could be desired! She possessed an ardent mind, great
constitutional gaiety, and a sensitive heart;—to which were added a most
engaging figure and a lovely and expressive countenance. Her father she
loved dearly; and for his unhappy circumstances, therefore, her heart
bled; but Sir R— M— could make no impression upon it. On the contrary,
he excited her aversion.—Thus her affections being unattainable, the
baronet resolved, if possible, to _purchase_ her hand, leaving her heart
to some future opportunity! Hence commences the affecting narrative of
her ladyship’s wrongs and misfortunes, related to me by herself, almost
unconsciously, in broken fragments, and at several times.
“I was not aware (said she) what caused my dear father’s obvious
unhappiness, and often was I surprised at the pertinacity with which he
pressed the baronet upon my consideration. I rejected him over and over
again; still his suit was renewed, still my father appeared more anxious
on his behalf, whilst my mother seconded their wishes.—My aversion
increased; yet Sir R— M—’s assiduities were redoubled with his repulses;
and at length I contemplated the leaving my father’s house, if I were
longer persecuted by these addresses.
“Though young, I knew the failing of my own character, which possessed
not sufficient resolution to oppose its constitutional tendencies.
Nature had formed me for all the pleasures and the pains which are alike
inseparable from sensibility. I found a glow in every thought—an
enthusiasm in every action. My feelings were always _in earnest_. I
could love to excess, and hate to rancour! but I could do neither with
mediocrity. I could be the best or the worst of wives. I could endure
any thing with a man I loved, but could not sit upon a throne with one
whom I detested.
“At length, I discovered the whole of my father’s more than pressing
embarrassments; and understood that Sir R— M— had agreed to give up to
him a considerable portion of my fortune if our marriage was effected.
This shock to such a disposition as mine was cruel; and the dilemma was
distracting: it involved my father’s comforts—or my own misery!
“Often, as we sat at our family repasts, have I perceived that dear
parent lay down the fork he was conveying to his lips, and turn away to
conceal the agitation of mind which might have betrayed to us that
distress he was endeavouring to conceal.
“Gradually, I found that filial affection was taking the strongest hold
of me. I thought I could endure unhappiness myself, but I could not bear
to see my father miserable. I weighed the consequences, and reasoned so
far as I possessed the faculty of reasoning. I saw his ruin or my own
was inevitable!
“The struggle was, indeed, sharp—it was long—it was _very_ painful: but
at length filial piety prevailed over self; and I determined upon making
the sacrifice. I communicated to my father my decision to admit the
addresses of Sir R— M—, without hinting at my true reasons; but, at the
same moment, I felt an indescribable change of character commence,
which, from that sad period, has more or less affected every action of
my life. I felt a sort of harsh sensation arise within my mind, and
operate upon my temper, to which they had previously been strangers. My
spirits flagged,—all pleasures grew insipid; and I perceived that the
ice of indifference was chilling the sensibility of my nature.
“From the moment of my assent, my father’s disposition seemed to have
undergone almost as radical a change as my own. He became once more
cheerful, and I had at least the gratification of reflecting that, if I
were myself lost, I had saved a parent! But I must remark that it was
not so as to my mother—who, indeed, had not been kind to me.
“In due time the settlements were prepared, and my fortune, I learnt,
secretly divided. The ceremony was about to be performed, and Sir R— M—
at that very hour appeared to me to be the most disagreeable of mankind.
There was a sort of uncouth civility—an abrupt, fiery, coarse
expression, even in his most conciliating manners, which seemed to set
all feelings of respect or cordiality at defiance. As to love, he was
not susceptible of the passion; whilst I was created to enjoy its
tenderest blessings. He was half mad by nature;—I had become so from
misery! and in this state of mind we met to be united at the altar! I
was determined, however, that he should learn by anticipation what he
had to expect from me as a wife. ‘Sir R— M—, (said I to him,) I am
resolved to give you the last proof you will ever receive of my candour.
I accept you, not only as a husband whom I never can love, and never
will obey, but whom I absolutely detest!—now marry me at your peril, and
take the consequences!’—He laughed convulsively, took me by the hand,
and having led me into the next room, that ceremony was performed to
which I should have thought a sentence of death preferable. The moment
we were united I retired to my chamber, where tears, flowing in
torrents, cooled my heated feelings. My purpose in marrying was
effected: I therefore determined that (if possible) I never would live
an hour in his society, and it was two months before my ill-fated stars
compelled me to become the actual wife of the most unfeeling and
abominable of fanatics.
“Our residence together of course was short, and at twenty-one I was
thrown upon the world, to avoid my husband’s society. Being possessed of
sufficient means, I travelled; and for the fourteen years of our
separation my whole time was an unnatural and continued strife between
passion and propriety. On a late occasion, you were my counsel, and from
you nothing has been concealed. You did me more than justice—you have
defeated him, and preserved me!”
I have not seen her ladyship for these many years; but never did I meet
with one whom I conceived to be more completely thrown away, or whose
natural disposition seemed better calculated to lead to her own
happiness and to the happiness of those within her sphere of influence.
I speak of her as she was when I knew her; and I have no reason to alter
my impressions. Her father, mother, and husband, are all gone: how she
is situated with regard to her surviving connexions, I know not.