Perhaps it was during this trip to Woodbridge (and the carping reader will be justified in saying “and perhaps it wasn’t”) that
Posh witnessed the curious and characteristic meeting between FitzGerald and his wife.
If this meeting were characteristic, still more so was the history of the marriage.
FitzGerald had been a great friend of Bernard Barton, the Woodbridge quaker poet, and on the death of his friend he wished to save Miss Barton from being thrown on the world almost destitute and almost friendless. The only way of doing it without creating scandal (and he changed the name of his yacht from the Shamrock to the Scandal because he said that scandal was the principal commodity of Woodbridge) was to make her his wife. This he did. But there were many reasons why the marriage was not likely to prove a happy one. It did not, and both parties recognised that the wisest thing to do was to separate without any unnecessary fuss. They did so. And no doubt their action proved to be for the happiness of each of them.
Posh was walking with FitzGerald on one occasion down Quay Lane, Woodbridge, when Mrs. FitzGerald (who was living at Gorleston at the time, but had gone over to Woodbridge, possibly to see some old friends) appeared walking towards them. FitzGerald removed the glove he was wearing on his right hand. Mrs. FitzGerald removed the glove she was wearing on her right hand. There was a momentary hesitation as the husband passed the wife. But Posh thinks that the two hands did not meet. FitzGerald bowed with all his courtesy, and passed on.
Posh says that Mrs. FitzGerald was a “fine figure of a woman.” And I believe that she was, indeed, so fine a figure of a woman that the length of her stride excited the admiration of the local schoolboys when she was still Miss Barton. She was older than FitzGerald when he married her, and both were nearer fifty than forty.
In this context I give the following letter
from FitzGerald to Posh, though I have been unable to fix its date with any certainty.
“Woodbridge, Tuesday.
“Dear Posh,
“I find that I may very likely have to go to London on Thursday—not to be home till Friday perhaps. If I do this it will be scarce worth while your coming over here to-morrow, so far as I am concerned; though you will perhaps see Newson.
“Poor young Smith of the Sportsman was brought home ill last week, and died of the very worst Small Pox in a Day or two. There have been three Deaths from it here: all from London. As young Smith died in Quay Lane leading down to the Boat Inn, I should not like you to be about there with any chance of Danger, though I have been up and down several times myself.
“Ever yours,
“E. FG.”
“The Sportsman” was a public-house at