“Previous to my first interview with his Royal Highness, in one of his letters I was astonished to find a bond of the most solemn and binding nature containing a promise of the sum of twenty thousand pounds, to be paid at the period of his Royal Highness’s coming of age.
“This paper was signed by the prince, and sealed with the royal arms. It was expressed in terms so liberal, so voluntary, so marked by true affection, that I had scarcely power to read it. My tears, excited by the most agonising conflicts, obscured the letters, and nearly blotted out those sentiments which will be impressed upon my mind till the latest period of my existence. Still, I felt shocked and mortified at the indelicate idea of entering into any pecuniary engagements with a prince, on whose establishment I relied for the enjoyment of all that would render life desirable. I was surprised at receiving it; the idea of interest had never entered my mind. Secure in the possession of his heart, I had in that delightful certainty counted all my future treasure. I had refused many splendid gifts which his Royal Highness had proposed ordering for me at Grey’s and other jewellers. The prince presented to me a few trifling ornaments, in the whole their value not exceeding one hundred guineas. Even these, on our separation, I returned to his Royal Highness through the hands of General Lake.
“The period now approached that was to destroy all the fairy visions which had filled my mind with dreams of happiness. At the moment when everything was preparing for his Royal Highness’s establishment, when I looked impatiently for the arrival of that day in which I might behold my adored friend gracefully receiving the acclamations of his future subjects, when I might enjoy the public protection of that being for whom I gave up all, I received a letter from his Royal Highness, a cold and unkind letter — briefly informing me that ‘we must meet no more!’
“And now, my friend, suffer me to call God to witness, that I was unconscious why this decision had taken place in his Royal Highness’s mind. Only two days previous to this letter being written I had seen the prince at Kew, and his affection appeared to be boundless as it was undiminished.
“Amazed, afflicted, beyond the power of utterance, I wrote immediately to his Royal Highness, requiring an explanation. He remained silent. Again I wrote, but received no elucidation of this most cruel and extraordinary mystery. The prince was then at Windsor. I set out in a small pony phaeton, wretched, and unaccompanied by any one except my postilion (a child of nine years of age). It was near dark when we quitted Hyde Park Corner. On my arrival at Hounslow the innkeeper informed me that every carriage which had passed the heath for the last ten nights had been attacked and rifled. I confess the idea of personal danger had no terrors for my mind in the state it then was, and the possibility of annihilation, divested of the crime of suicide, encouraged rather than diminished my determination of proceeding. We had scarcely reached the middle of the heath when my horses were startled by the sudden appearance of a man rushing from the side of the road. The boy, on perceiving him, instantly spurred his pony, and, by a sudden bound of our light vehicle, the ruffian missed his grasp at the front rein. We now proceeded at full speed, while the footpad ran endeavouring to overtake us. At length, my horses fortunately outrunning the perseverance of the assailant, we reached the first ‘Magpie,’ a small inn on the heath, in safety. The alarm which, in spite of my resolution, this adventure had created, was augmented on my recollecting, for the first time, that I had then in my black stock a brilliant stud of very considerable value, which could only have been possessed by the robber by strangling the wearer.
“If my heart palpitated with joy at my escape from assassination, a circumstance soon after occurred that did not tend to quiet my emotion. This was the appearance of Mr. H. Meynell and Mrs. A —— . My foreboding soul instantly beheld a rival, and, with jealous eagerness, interpreted the hitherto inexplicable conduct of the prince from his having frequently expressed his wish to know that lady.
“On my arrival the prince would not see me. My agonies were now undescribable. I consulted with Lord Malden and the Duke of Dorset, whose honourable mind and truly disinterested friendship had on many occasions been exemplified toward me. They were both at a loss to divine any cause of this sudden change in the prince’s feelings. The Prince of Wales had hitherto assiduously sought opportunities to distinguish me more publicly than was prudent in his Royal Highness’s situation. This was in the month of August. On the 4th of the preceding June I went, by his desire, into the chamberlain’s box at the birthnight ball; the distressing observation of the circle was drawn toward the part of the box in which I sat by the marked and injudicious attentions of his Royal Highness. I had not been arrived many minutes before I witnessed a singular species of fashionable coquetry. Previous to his Highness’s beginning his minuet, I perceived a woman of high rank select from the bouquet which she wore two rosebuds, which she gave to the prince, as he afterward informed me, emblematical of herself and him.’ I observed his Royal Highness immediately beckon to a nobleman, who has since formed a part of his establishment, and, looking most earnestly at me, whisper a few words, at the same time presenting to him his newly acquired trophy. In a few moments Lord C —— entered the chamberlain’s box, and, giving the rosebuds into my hands, informed me that he was commissioned by the prince to do so. I placed them in my bosom, and, I confess, felt proud of the power by which I thus publicly mortified an exalted rival. His Royal Highness now avowedly distinguished me at all public places of entertainment, at the king’s hunt near Windsor, at the reviews, and at the theatres. The prince only seemed happy in evincing his affection toward me.
“How terrible, then, was the change to my feelings! And I again most solemnly repeat that I was totally ignorant of any just cause fur so sudden an alteration.
“My ‘good-natured friends’ now carefully informed me of the multitude of secret enemies who were ever employed in estranging the prince’s mind from me. So fascinating, so illustrious a lover could not fail to excite the envy of my own sex. Women of all descriptions were emulous of attracting his Royal Highness’s attention. Alas! I had neither rank nor power to oppose such adversaries. Every engine of female malice was set in motion to destroy my repose, and every petty calumny was repeated with tenfold embellishments. Tales of the most infamous and glaring falsehood were invented, and I was again assailed by pamphlets, by paragraphs, and caricatures, and all the artillery of slander, while the only being to whom I then looked up for protection was so situated as to be unable to afford it.
“Thus perplexed, I wrote to you, my friend, and implored your advice. But you were far away; your delighted soul was absorbed in cherishing the plant of human liberty, which has since blossomed with independent splendour over your happy provinces. Eagerly did I wait for the arrival of the packet, but no answer was returned. In the anguish of my soul I once more addressed the Prince of Wales; I complained, perhaps too vehemently, of his injustice; of the calumnies which had been by my enemies fabricated against me, of the falsehood of which he was but too sensible. I conjured him to render me justice. He did so; he wrote me a most eloquent letter, disclaiming the causes alleged by a calumniating world, and fully acquitting me of the charges which had been propagated to destroy me.
“I resided now in Cork Street, Burlington Gardens. The house, which was neat, but by no means splendid, had recently been fitted up for the reception of the Countess of Derby, on her separation from her lord. My situation now every hour became more irksome. The prince still unkindly persisted in withdrawing himself from my society. I was now deeply involved in debt, which I despaired of ever having the power to discharge. I had quitted both my husband and my profession. The retrospect was dreadful!
“My estrangement from the prince was now the theme of public animadversion, while the newly invigorated shafts of my old enemies, the daily prints, were again hurled upon my defenceless head with tenfold fury. The regrets of Mr. Robinson, now that he had lost me, became insupportable; he constantly wrote to me in the language of unbounded affectio
n, nor did he fail, when we met, to express his agony at our separation, and even a wish for our reunion.
“I had, at one period, resolved on returning to my profession; but some friends whom I consulted dreaded that the public would not suffer my reappearance on the stage. This idea intimidated me, and precluded my efforts for that independence of which my romantic credulity had robbed me. I was thus fatally induced to relinquish what would have proved an ample and honourable resource for myself and my child. My debts accumulated to near seven thousand pounds. My creditors, whose insulting illiberality could only be equalled by their unbounded impositions, hourly assailed me.
“I was, in the meantime, wholly neglected by the prince, while the assiduities of Lord Malden daily increased. I had no other friend on whom I could rely for assistance or protection. When I say protection, I would not be understood to mean pecuniary assistance, Lord Mailden being, at the time alluded to, even poorer than myself, — the death of his lordship’s grandmother, Lady Frances Coningsby, had not then placed him above the penury of his own small income.
“Lord Maiden’s attentions to me again exposed him to all the humiliation of former periods. The prince assured me once more of his wishes to renew our former friendship and affection, and urged me to meet him at the house of Lord Malden in Clarges Street. I was at this period little less than frantic, deeply involved in debt, persecuted by my enemies, and perpetually reproached by my relations. I would joyfully have resigned an existence now become to me an intolerable burthen; yet my pride was not less than my sorrow, and I resolved, whatever my heart might suffer, to wear a placid countenance when I met the inquiring glances of my triumphant enemies.
“After much hesitation, by the advice of Lord Malden, I consented to meet his Royal Highness. He accosted me with every appearance of tender attachment, declaring that he had never for one moment ceased to love me, but that I had many concealed enemies, who were exerting every effort to undermine me. We passed some hours in the most friendly and delightful conversation, and I began to flatter myself that all our differences were adjusted. But what words can express my surprise and chagrin, when, on meeting his Royal Highness the very next day in Hyde Park, he turned his head to avoid seeing me, and even affected not to know me!
“Overwhelmed by this blow, my distress knew no limits. Yet Heaven can witness the truth of my assertion, even in this moment of complete despair, when oppression bowed me to the earth, I blamed not the prince. I did then, and ever shall, consider his mind as nobly and honourably organised, nor could I teach myself to believe that a heart, the seat of so many virtues, could possibly become inhuman and unjust. I had been taught from my infancy to believe that elevated stations are surrounded by delusive visions, which glitter but to dazzle, like an unsubstantial meteor, and flatter to betray. With legions of these phantoms it has been my fate to encounter; I have been unceasingly marked by their persecutions, and shall at length become their victim.”
Mrs. Robinson from a Painting by Gainsborough
Here the narrative of Mrs. Robinson breaks off, with some reflections to which the recital had given rise. Though diligent search has been made to elucidate the obscurity in which the preceding events are involved, but little information has been gained. All that can be learned with certainty is her final separation from the Prince of Wales in the year 1781.
The genius and engaging manners of Mrs. Robinson, who was still very young, had procured her the friendship of many of the most enlightened men of this age and country; her house was the rendezvous of talents. While yet unconscious of the powers of her mind, which had scarcely then unfolded itself, she was honoured with the acquaintance and esteem of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Messrs. Sheridan, Burke, Henderson, Wilkes, Sir John Elliot, etc., men of distinguished talents and character. But though surrounded by the wise, the witty, and the gay, her mind, naturally pensive, was still devoured by secret sorrow; neither could the blandishments of flattery, nor the soothings of friendship, extract the arrow that rankled in her heart. Involved beyond the power of extrication, she determined on quitting England, and making a tour to Paris.
To desert her country, to fly like a wretched fugitive, or to become a victim to the malice, and swell the triumph of her enemies, were the only alternatives that seemed to present themselves. Flight was humiliating and dreadful, but to remain in England was impracticable. The terrors and struggles of her mind became almost intolerable, and nearly deprived her of reason. The establishment of the prince had now taken place; to him, for whom she had made every sacrifice, and to whom she owed her present embarrassments, she conceived herself entitled to appeal for redress. She wrote to his Royal Highness, but her letter remained unanswered. The business was at length submitted to the arbitration of Mr. Fox, and, in 1783, her claims were adjusted by the grant of an annuity of five hundred pounds, the moiety of which was to descend to her daughter at her decease. This settlement was to be considered as an equivalent for the bond of twenty thousand pounds given by the prince to Mrs. Robinson, to be paid on his establishment, as a consideration for the resignation of a lucrative profession at the particular request of his Royal Highness. To many persons the assurance of an independence would have operated as a consolation for the sufferings and difficulties by which it had been procured; but the spirit of Mrs. Robinson bent not to a situation which the delicacy of her feelings led her to consider as a splendid degradation.
About this period, Mrs. Robinson, notwithstanding the change in her affairs, determined to visit Paris, to amuse her mind and beguile her thoughts from the recollection of past scenes. Having procured letters of introduction to some agreeable French families, and also to Sir John Lambert, resident English banker at Paris, she quitted London, with the resolution of passing two months in the gay and brilliant metropolis of France. Sir John Lambert, on being informed of her arrival, exerted himself to procure for her commodious apartments, a remise, a box at the opera, with all the fashionable and expensive etceteras with which an inexperienced English traveller is immediately provided.
This venerable chevalier united to the cordiality of the English character the bienfaisance of a Frenchman; every hour was devoted to the amusement of his admired guest, who came to him highly recommended. Parties were, with the most flattering assiduity, formed for the different spectacles and places of public entertainment. A brilliant assemblage of illustrious visitors failed not to grace at the opera the box of la belle Anglaise.
A short time after the arrival of Mrs. Robinson at Paris, the Duke of Orleans and his gallant friend and associate, the Duke de Lauzun (afterward Duke de Biron), were presented to her by Sir John Lambert. This unfortunate prince, with all the volatility of the national character, disgraced human nature by his vices, while the elegance of his manners rendered him a model to his contemporaries.
The Duke of Orleans immediately professed himself devoted to the fair stranger. His libertine manners, the presumption with which he declared his determination to triumph over the heart of Mrs. Robinson, assisted to defend her against him; and, while he failed to dazzle her imagination by his magnificence, he disgusted her by his hauteur.
The most enchanting fêtes were given at Mousseau, a villa belonging to the Duke of Orleans. near Paris, at which Mrs. Robinson invariably declined to appear. Brilliant races à l’Anglaise were exhibited on the plains des Sablons, to captivate the attention of the inexorable Anglaise. On the birthday of Mrs. Robinson a new effort was made to subdue her aversion and to obtain her regard. A rural fête was appointed in the gardens of Mousseau, when this beautiful pandemonium of splendid profligacy was, at an unusual expense, decorated with boundless luxury.
In the evening, amidst a magnificent illumination, every tree displayed the initials of la belle Anglaise, composed of coloured lamps, interwoven with wreaths of artificial flowers. Politeness compelled Mrs. Robinson to grace with her presence a fête instituted to her honour. She, however, took the precaution of selecting for her companion a German lady, then resident a
t Paris, while the venerable chevalier Lambert attended them as a chaperon.
Some days after the celebration of this festival, the Queen of France signified her intention of dining in public, for the first time after her accouchement with the Duke of Normandy, afterward dauphin. The duke brought to Mrs. Robinson a message from the queen, expressing a wish that la belle Anglaise might be induced to appear at the grand convert. Mrs. Robinson, not less solicitous to behold the lovely Marie Antoinette, gladly availed herself of the intimation, and immediately began to prepare for the important occasion. The most tasteful ornaments of Mademoiselle Bertin, the reigning milliner, were procured to adorn a form that, rich in native beauty, needed little embellishment. A pale green lustring train and body, with a tiffany petticoat, festooned with bunches of the most delicate lilac, were chosen by Mrs. Robinson for her appearance, while a plume of white feathers adorned her head; the native roses of her cheeks, glowing with health and youth, were stained, in conformity to the fashion of the French court, with the deepest rouge.
On the arrival of the fair foreigner, the Duke d’Orleans quitted the king, on whom he was then in waiting, to procure her a place, where the queen might have an opportunity of observing those charms by the fame of which her curiosity had been awakened.
The grand convert, at which the king acquitted himself with more alacrity than grace, afforded a magnificent display of epicurean luxury. The queen ate nothing. The slender crimson cord, which drew a line of separation between the royal epicures and the gazing plebeians, was at the distance but of a few feet from the table. A small space divided the queen from Mrs. Robinson, whom the constant observation and loudly whispered encomiums of her Majesty most oppressively flattered. She appeared to survey, with peculiar attention, a miniature of the Prince of Wales, which Mrs. Robinson wore on her bosom, and of which, on the ensuing day, she commissioned the Duke of Orleans to request the loan. Perceiving Mrs. Robinson gaze with admiration on her white and polished arms, as she drew on her gloves, the queen again uncovered them, and leaned for a few moments on her hand. The duke, on returning the picture, gave to the fair owner a purse, netted by the hand of Antoinette, and which she had commissioned him to present, from her, to la belle Anglaise. Mrs. Robinson not long after these events quitted Paris, and returned to her native country.
Collected Poetical Works of Mary Robinson Page 64