Wales, in order to avow our marriage, and to present me to his "uncle,"
for such he still obstinately denominated his father. My mother wished
to avail herself of this opportunity to visit her friends at Bristol,
and accordingly we set out on the journey. We passed through Oxford;
visited the different colleges; proceeded to Blenheim, and made the tour
a tour of pleasure, with the hope of soothing my mother's resentment,
and exhilarating my spirits, which were now perpetually dejected. I
cannot help mentioning that, shortly after my marriage, I formed an
acquaintance with a young lady, whose mind was no less romantic than my
own, and while Mr. Robinson was occupied at chambers, we almost daily
passed our morning hours in Westminster Abbey. It was to me a soothing
and a gratifying scene of meditation. I have often remained in the
gloomy chapels of that sublime fabric till I became, as it were, an
inhabitant of another world. The dim light of the Gothic windows, the
vibration of my footsteps along the lofty aisles, the train of
reflections that the scene inspired, were all suited to the temper of my
soul; and the melancholy propensities of my earliest infancy seemed to
revive with an instinctive energy, which rendered them the leading
characteristics of my existence. Indeed, the world has mistaken the
character of my mind; I have ever been the reverse of volatile and
dissipated. I mean not to write my own eulogy, though with the candid
and sensitive mind I shall, I trust, succeed in my vindication.
On our arrival at Bristol, Mr. Robinson thought it most advisable to
proceed toward Tregunter, the seat of his "uncle," alone, in order to
prepare him for my cordial reception, or to avoid the mortification I
should experience, should he refuse to sanction our union. Mr. Robinson
left me a few guineas, and promised that his absence should be short,
and his affection increasing.
I had now been married near four months; and, though love was not the
basis of my fidelity, honour, and a refined sense of feminine rectitude,
attached me to the interest as well as to the person of my husband. I
considered chastity as the brightest ornament that could embellish the
female mind, and I regulated my conduct to that tenor which has
principle more than affection to strengthen its progress.
At Bristol my mother experienced the most gratifying reception; all her
former friends rejoiced to see her; I was invited daily to feasts of
hospitality, and I found that fortune was to common minds a never
failing passport. Mr. Robinson was represented as a young man of
considerable expectations, and his wife was consequently again received
as the daughter of Mr. Darby. The house in which I first opened my eyes
to this world of sorrow, the minster, its green, the schoolhouse where I
had passed many days, the tomb of my lost relatives in the church of St.
Augustine, were all visited by me with a sweet and melancholy interest.
But the cathedral, the brass eagle in the middle aisle, under which,
when an infant, I used to sit and join in the loud anthem, or chant the
morning service, most sensibly attached me. I longed again to occupy my
place beneath its expanding wings, and once I went before the service
began to gratify my inclination.
Language cannot describe the sort of sensation which I felt when I heard
the well-known, long-remembered organ flinging its loud peal through the
Gothic structure. I hastened to the cloisters. The nursery windows were
dim and shattered; the house was sinking to decay. The mouldering walk
was gloomy, and my spirits were depressed beyond description: I stood
alone, rapt in meditation, "Here," said I, "did my infant feet pace to
and fro; here did I climb the long stone bench, and swiftly measure it
at the peril of my safety. On those dark and winding steps did I sit and
listen to the full-toned organ, the loud anthem, the bell which called
the parishioners to prayer." I entered the cathedral once more; I read
and re-read the monumental inscriptions; I paused upon the grave of
Powell; I dropped a tear on the small square ground tablet which bore
the name of Evelyn. Ah! how little has the misjudging world known of
what has passed in my mind, even in the apparently gayest moments of my
existence! How much have I regretted that ever I was born, even when I
have been surrounded with all that could gratify the vanity of woman!
Mr. Robinson, on his arrival at Tregunter, despatched a letter informing
me that his "uncle" seemed disposed to act handsomely, but that he had
only ventured to avow an intention to marry, fearful of abruptly
declaring that he had been already some months a husband. Mr. Harris,
for that was the name of my father-in-law, replied that "he hoped the
object of his choice was not too young!" At this question Mr. Robinson
was somewhat disconcerted. "A young wife," continued Mr. Harris, "cannot
mend a man's fortune. How old is the girl you have chosen?"
"She is nearly seventeen!"
I was then only fifteen and a few months.[10]
"I hope she is not handsome," was the second observation. "You say she
is not rich; and beauty without money is but a dangerous sort
of portion."
"Will you see her?"
"I have no objection," said Mr. Harris.
"She is now with her mother at Bristol,--for," continued Mr. Robinson,
with some hesitation, "she is my wife."
Mr. Harris paused, and then replied, "Well! stay with me only a few
days, and then you shall fetch her. If the thing is done, it cannot be
undone. She is a gentlewoman, you say, and I can have no reason to
refuse seeing her."
The same letter which contained this intelligence also requested me to
prepare for my journey, and desired me to write to a person whom Mr.
Robinson named in London, and whom I had seen in his company, for a sum
of money which would be necessary for our journey. This person was Mr.
John King, then a money-broker in Goodman's Fields; but I was an entire
stranger to the transaction which rendered him the temporary source of
my husband's finances.
One or two letters passed on this subject, and I waited anxiously for my
presentation at Tregunter. At length the period of Mr. Robinson's return
arrived, and we set out together, while my mother remained with her
friends at Bristol. Crossing the old passage to Chepstow in an open
boat, a distance, though not extended, extremely perilous, we found the
tide so strong and the night so boisterous that we were apprehensive of
much danger. The rain poured and the wind blew tempestuously. The boat
was full of passengers, and at one end of it were placed a drove of
oxen. My terror was infinite; I considered this storm as an ill omen,
but little thought that at future periods of my life I should have cause
to regret that I had not perished!
During our journey Robinson entreated me to overlook anything harsh that
might appear in the manners of his "uncle,"--for he still denied that
Mr. Harris was his father. But above all things he conjured me to
conceal my real age, and to say that I was some years older than he knew
me to be. To this proposal I readily consented, and I felt myself firm
in courage at the moment when we came within sight of Tregunter.
Mr. Harris was then building the family mansion, and resided in a pretty
little decorated cottage which was afterward converted into domestic
offices. We passed through a thick wood, the mountains at every break
meeting our eyes, covered with thin clouds, and rising in a sublime
altitude above the valley. A more romantic space of scenery never met
the human eye! I felt my mind inspired with a pensive melancholy, and
was only awakened from my reverie by the postboy stopping at the mansion
of Tregunter.
Mr. Harris came out to receive me. I wore a dark claret-coloured
riding-habit, with a white beaver hat and feathers. He embraced me with
excessive cordiality, while Miss Robinson, my husband's sister, with
cold formality led me into the house. I never shall forget her looks or
her manner. Had her brother presented the most abject being to her, she
could not have taken my hand with a more frigid demeanour. Miss
Robinson, though not more than twenty years of age, was Gothic in her
appearance and stiff in her deportment; she was of low stature and
clumsy, with a countenance peculiarly formed for the expression of
sarcastic vulgarity--a short snub nose, turned up at the point, a head
thrown back with an air of _hauteur_; a gaudy-coloured chintz gown, a
thrice-bordered cap, with a profusion of ribbons, and a countenance
somewhat more ruddy than was consistent with even pure health, presented
the personage whom I was to know as my future companion and kinswoman!
Mr. Harris looked like a venerable Hawthorn; a brown fustian coat, a
scarlet waistcoat edged with narrow gold, a pair of woollen
spatter-dashes, and a gold-laced hat, formed the dress he generally
wore. He always rode a small Welsh pony, and was seldom in the house,
except at eating-time, from sunrise to the close of the evening.
There was yet another personage in the domestic establishment, who was
by Mr. Harris regarded as of no small importance: this was a venerable
housekeeper of the name of Mary Edwards. Mrs. Molly was the female
Mentor of the family; she dined at the table with Mr. Harris; she was
the governess of the domestic department; and a more overbearing,
vindictive spirit never inhabited the heart of mortal than that which
pervaded the soul of the ill-natured Mrs. Molly.
It may easily be conjectured that my time passed heavily in this
uninteresting circle. I was condemned either to drink ale with "the
squire," for Mr. Harris was only spoken of by that title, or to visit
the Methodistical seminary which Lady Huntingdon had established at
Trevecca, another mansion house on the estate of Mr. Harris. Miss
Robinson was of this sect; and though Mr. Harris was not a disciple of
the Huntingdonian school, he was a constant church visitor on every
Sunday. His zeal was indefatigable; and he would frequently fine the
rustics (for he was a justice of the peace, and had been sheriff of the
county) when he heard them swear, though every third sentence he uttered
was attended by an oath that made his hearers shudder.
I soon became a considerable favourite of "the squire," but I did not
find any yielding qualities about the hearts of Miss Betsy or Mrs.
Molly. They observed me with jealous eyes; they considered me as an
interloper, whose manners attracted Mr. Harris's esteem, and who was
likely to diminish their divided influence in the family. I found them
daily growing weary of my society; I perceived their sidelong glances
when I was complimented by the visiting neighbours on my good looks or
taste in the choice of my dresses. Miss Robinson rode on horseback in a
camlet safeguard, with a high-crowned bonnet; I wore a fashionable
habit, and looked like something human. Envy at length assumed the form
of insolence, and I was taunted perpetually on the folly of appearing
like a woman of fortune; that a lawyer's wife had no right to dress like
a duchess; and that, though I might be very accomplished, a good
housewife had no occasion for harpsichords and books,--they belonged to
women who brought wherewithal to support them. Such was the language of
vulgar, illiberal natures! Yet for three weeks I endured it patiently.
Knowing that Mr. Harris was disposed to think favourably of me,--that he
even declared he should "have liked me for his wife, had I not married
Tom," though he was then between sixty and seventy years of age, I
thought it most prudent to depart, lest, through the machinations of
Miss Betsy and Mrs. Molly, I should lose the share I had gained in his
affections. My mother was still at Bristol; and the morning of our
departure being arrived, to my infinite astonishment Mr. Harris proposed
accompanying us thither. It was in vain that Molly and Miss interfered
to prevent him; he swore that he would see me safe across the channel,
whatever might be the consequence of his journey. We set out together.
On our arrival at Bristol, Mr. Harris was presented to my mother, and by
her introduced to many respectable friends. He was consequently invited
to several dinner-parties. I was his idol; he would dance with me; when
he had taken the evening draught, he would sing with me, and I was to
him the most delightful of beings. Many embellishments for Tregunter
House were submitted to my taste and choice; and I remember, on his
giving orders for the marble chimney-pieces, he said, "Choose them as
you like them, Mrs. Robinson, for they are all for you and Tom when I am
no more." Indeed, he frequently assured me, while I was at Tregunter,
that the estate should be my husband's.
After passing many days at Bristol Mr. Harris returned to Wales, and our
party set out for London. Mr. Robinson's mind was easy, and his hopes
were confirmed by the kindness of his uncle; he now considered himself
as the most happy of mortals. We removed from Great Queen Street to a
house, No. 13, in Hatton Garden, which had been recently built. Mr.
Robinson hired it, and furnished it with peculiar elegance. I frequently
inquired into the extent of his finances, and he as often assured me
that they were in every respect competent to his expenses. In addition
to our domestic establishment, Mr. Robinson purchased a handsome
phaeton, with saddle-horses for his own use; and I now made my début,
though scarcely emerged beyond the boundaries of childhood, in the broad
hemisphere of fashionable folly.
A new face, a young person dressed with peculiar but simple elegance,
was sure to attract attention at places of public entertainment. The
first time I went to Ranelagh, my habit was so singularly plain and
Quaker-like that all eyes were fixed upon me. I wore a gown of light
brown lustring with close round cuffs (it was then the fashion to wear
long ruffles); my hair was without powder, and my head adorned with a
plain round cap and a white chip hat, without any ornaments whatever.
The second place of polite entertainment to which Mr. Robinson
accompanied me was the Pantheon concert, then the most fashionable
assemblage of the gay and the distinguished. At this place it was
customary to appear much dressed; large hoops and high feathers were
universally worn. My habit was composed of pale pink satin, trimmed with
broad sable; my dear mother presented me a suit of rich and valuable
point lace, which she had received from my father as a birthday gift,
and I was at least some hours employed in decorating my person for this
new sphere of fascination; I say some hours, because my shape at that
period required some arrangement, owing to the visible increase of my
domestic solicitudes.
As soon as I entered the Pantheon rotunda, I never shall forget the
impression which my mind received; the splendour of the scene, the dome
illuminated with variegated lamps, the music, and the beauty of the
women, seemed to present a circle of enchantment. I recollect that the
most lovely of fair forms met my eyes in that of Lady Almeria Carpenter.
The countenance which most pleased me was that of the late Mrs.
Baddeley.[11] The first Countess of Tyrconnel also appeared with
considerable _éclat_. But the buzz of the room, the unceasing murmur of
admiration, attended the Marchioness Townshend. I took my seat on a sofa
nearly opposite to that on which she was sitting, and I observed two
persons, evidently men of fashion, speaking to her, till one of them,
looking toward me, with an audible voice inquired of the other, "Who
is she?"
Their fixed stare disconcerted me; I rose, and, leaning on my husband's
arm, again mingled in the brilliant circle. The inquirers followed us;
stopping several friends, as we walked around the circle, and repeatedly
demanding of them, "Who is that young lady in the pink dress trimmed
with sable?" My manner and confusion plainly evinced that I was not
accustomed to the gaze of impertinent high breeding. I felt uneasy, and
proposed returning home, when I perceived that our two followers were
joined by a third, who, on looking at me, said, "I think I know her." It
was the late Earl of Northington.[12]
We had now to pass the group in order to quit the rotunda. Lord
Northington, leaving his companions, approached me. "Miss Darby, or I am
mistaken," said he, with a bow of marked civility. I replied that my
name was now changed to that of Robinson, and, to prevent any awkward
embarrassment, presented my husband, on whose arm I was still leaning.
Lord Northington continued to walk around the Pantheon with us, made
many inquiries after my father, complimented me on the improvement of my
person, and "hoped that he should be permitted to pay his respects to
Mr. and Mrs. Robinson."
We now entered the tea-room; there was not a seat vacant; I was
considerably fatigued, and somewhat faint with the heat of the rotunda.
I quitted the tea-room, and seated myself on a sofa near the door. In a
few minutes Lord Northington brought me a cup of tea, for Mr. Robinson
did not like to leave me alone, and at the same time presented his two
inquisitive friends, Lord Lyttelton and Captain Ayscough.[13]
I now proposed departing. Mr. Robinson accompanied me to the vestibule,
and while he was seeking the carriage Lord Lyttelton offered his
services. I had never till that evening heard his name, but there was an
easy effrontery in his address that completely disgusted, while his
determined gaze distressed and embarrassed me, and I felt inexpressible
satisfaction when Mr. Robinson returned to tell me that the carriage
was ready.
On the following morning Lords Northington, Lyttelton, and Colonel
Ayscough made their visits of ceremony. Mr. Robinson was not at home,
but I received them, though not without some embarrassment. I was yet a
child, and wholly unacquainted with the manners of the world; yet, young
as I was, I became the traveller of its mazy and perilous paths. At an
age when girls are generally at school, or indeed scarcely emancipated
from the nursery, I was presented in society as a wife--and very nearly
as a mother.
Lord Lyttelton, who was perhaps the most accomplished libertine that any
age or country has produced, with considerable artifice inquired after
Mr. Robinson, professed his earnest desire to cultivate his
acquaintance, and, on the following day, sent him a card of invitation.
Lyttelton was an adept in the artifices of fashionable intrigue. He
plainly perceived that both Mr. Robinson and myself were uninitiated in
its mysteries; he knew that to undermine a wife's honour he must become
master of the husband's confidence, and Mr. Robinson was too much
pleased with the society of a man whose wit was only equalled by his
profligacy, to shrink from such an association.
Fortunately for me, Lord Lyttelton was uniformly my aversion. His
manners were overbearingly insolent, his language licentious, and his
person slovenly even to a degree that was disgusting. Mr. Robinson was
in every respect the very reverse of his companion: he was unassuming,
neat, and delicate in his conversation. I had not a wish to descend from
the propriety of wedded life, and I abhorred, decidedly abhorred, the
acquaintance with Lord Lyttelton.
In the course of a few days his lordship presented me the works of Miss
Aitken[14] (now Mrs. Barbauld). I read them with rapture. I thought them
the most beautiful poems I had ever seen, and considered the woman who
could invent such poetry as the most to be envied of human creatures.
Lord Lyttelton had some taste for poetical compositions, and wrote
verses with considerable facility.
On the following Monday I again visited the Pantheon. My dress was then
white and silver. Again I was followed with attention. Lord Lyttelton
was my _cavaliere servente_ that evening, though, as usual, his chief
attention was paid to Mr. Robinson. During the concert he presented the
Count de Belgeioso, the imperial ambassador, one of the most
accomplished foreigners I ever remember having met with. Lord Valentia
was also introduced, but as his lordship had recently made some _éclat_
by his attentions to the celebrated Mrs. Elliot, I rather avoided than
wished to cultivate his acquaintance.
Mr. Robinson's intercourse with the world was now rapidly augmenting.
Every day was productive of some new association. Lord Lyttelton
presented many of his friends; among others, Captain O'Byrne, and Mr.
William Brereton, of Drury Lane Theatre. In the course of a short time
we also became acquainted with Sir Francis Molyneux, Mr. Alderman Sayer,
and the late unfortunate George Robert Fitzgerald.[15] Lord Northington
was also a constant visitor, and frequently rallied me on what he
thought my striking likeness to his family.
Among my female friends, those for whom I entertained the strongest
esteem were Lady Yea, the wife of Sir William Yea, and the sister of Sir
John Trevellyan. She was a lovely and accomplished woman. Mrs. Parry,
the wife of the Rev. Doctor Parry, and the author of "Eden Vale," a
novel, was also one of my most favourite acquaintances. Mrs. Parry was a
woman of considerable talents, a wit, and of remarkably
pleasing manners.
Of those who frequented our house Lord Lyttelton was most decidedly my
abhorrence; I knew that he frequently led my husband from the paths of
domestic confidence to the haunts of profligate debasement. Toward me
his lordship affected great indifference. He has even in my presence
declared that no woman under thirty years of age was worth admiring;
that even the antiquity of forty was far preferable to the insipidity of
sixteen; and he generally concluded his observations by hoping he had
not made "the pretty child angry."
I soon discovered that his intercourse with Lord Lyttelton produced a
very considerable change in Mr. Robinson's domestic deportment. They
were constantly together, and the neglect which I experienced began to
alarm me. I dedicated all my leisure hours to poetry; I wrote verses of
all sorts; and Mr. Robinson having mentioned that I had proposed
appearing on the stage, previous to my marriage, in the character of
Cordelia, Lord Lyttelton facetiously christened me the Poetess Corry.
It was with extreme regret, and frequently with uncontrollable
indignation, that I endured the neglect of my husband and the tauntings
of the profligate Lyttelton. "The child"--for so he generally called
me--was deserted for the society of the most libertine men and the most
abandoned women. Mr. Robinson became not only careless of his wife, but
of his pecuniary finances, while I was kept in total ignorance as to the
resources which supported his increasing expenses.
Among my other friends, Lady Yea frequently inquired by what means my
husband supported his household disbursements. Our table was elegantly,
though not profusely, served. Mr. Robinson seldom attended to his
profession, and I was too young, as well as too inexperienced, to look
after family affairs. My younger brother George, whom, upon my marriage,
Mr. Robinson and myself adopted as our own, now finding his health
impaired, my mother attended him at Bristol, so that I had no friend to
advise me who felt any real interest in my welfare. Dress, parties,
adulation, occupied all my hours. Mr. Robinson's easy temper was
influenced by the counsel of his friend Lyttelton, and he every hour
sunk more deeply in the gulf of dissipation.
Among the most dangerous of my husband's associates was George Robert
Fitzgerald. His manners toward women were interesting and attentive. He
perceived the neglect with which I was treated by Mr. Robinson, and the
pernicious influence which Lord Lyttelton had acquired over his mind; he
professed to feel the warmest interest in my welfare, lamented the
destiny which had befallen me in being wedded to a man incapable of
estimating my value, and at last confessed himself my most ardent and
devoted admirer. I shuddered at the declaration, for, amidst all the
allurements of splendid folly, my mind, the purity of my virtue, was
still uncontaminated.
I repulsed the dangerous advances of this accomplished person, but I did
not the less feel the humiliation to which a husband's indifference had
exposed me. God can bear witness to the purity of my soul, even
surrounded by temptations and mortified by neglect. Whenever I ventured
to inquire into pecuniary resources, Mr. Robinson silenced me by saying
that he was independent; added to this assurance, Lord Lyttelton
repeatedly promised that, through his courtly interest, he would very
shortly obtain for my husband some honourable and lucrative situation.
I confess that I reposed but little confidence in the promises of such a
man, though my husband believed them inviolable. Frequent parties were
made at his lordship's house in Hill Street, and many invitations
pressed for a visit to his seat at Hagley. These I peremptorily refused,
till the noble hypocrite became convinced of my aversion, and adopted a
new mode of pursuing his machinations.
One forenoon Lord Lyttelton called in Hatton Garden, as was almost his
daily custom, and, on finding teat Mr. Robinson was not at home,
requested to speak with me on business of importance. I found him
seemingly much distressed. He informed me that he had a secret to
communicate of considerable moment both to my interest and happiness.
I started.
"Nothing, I trust in Heaven, has befallen my husband!" said I, with a
voice scarcely articulate.
Lord Lyttelton hesitated.