I remember now why I don't keep a diary. Granted, my life is pretty boring and I have no hidden crushes on married men that I would likely have a desire to write about, so maybe it wouldn't matter in any case. Did I catch your attention? Diaries. Married men. Desires to write about. How could I pass up a book that claims to be a true-to-life Madame Bovary, a nonfiction tale chronicling a "scandalous trial that rocked Victorian England"?
I have been trying to read more books from my own bookshelves and this one caught my eye over the weekend, Mrs. Robinson's Disgrace: The Private Diary of a Victorian Lady by Kate Summerscale. Victorian England sounded appealing as a subject matter at the moment and I don't mind adding another nonfiction to my (rather poor this year) list of books read. Besides, I've read and enjoyed Summerscale before with The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher. She tells a good 'story' when it comes to this era. And as nonfiction goes, I tend to be a very slow reader, but this reads very much like a novel.
In 1858 English courts began granting divorces to the middle classes. Previously only an an act of Parliament could sever a marriage (at least legally). In June of that year a very scandalous case was brought forth. Henry Robinson petitioned the court for divorce from his wife for committing adultery. The main piece of evidence? Her diary, in which she wrote about her secret longings and passions for a family friend, a married man. It must have been quite juicy considering Gustave Flaubert's novel Madame Bovary had been banned from being published in England, yet poor Isabella Robinson's diary (nearly in its entirety) was being read out in court. Talk about painful and humiliating!
I've only read the first few chapters of the book, which is lots of scene setting, and Summerscale is very gifted at scene setting. We all know Victorian England's reputation for being an oppressive place, particularly for women. Add to that the misinformation (well, based on what little they knew scientifically) Victorian had about the health and psyche of women, and this is a scandal just waiting to happen. I say poor Isabella, and that's how I think of her at the moment anyway, though I suspect my opinion won't change much as I read on into the book.
Isabella Robinson was a widow and remarried. It was not an especially happy marriage. What money she had her husband demanded she turn over to him (her father had settled some on her in particular so she would not be completely at her husband's mercy, yet in the end she still was) and as the years pass she believes Henry married her only for her money. She was a deeply unhappy wife and mother and began keeping a diary to be a "friend in loneliness and in sickness, a companion and confidant." It is hard not to be sympathetic towards Isabella as my teaser will show:
"Isabella, like many nineteenth-century women, used her journal as a place in which to confess her weakness, her sadness and her sins. In its pages she audited her behaviour and her thoughts; she grappled with her errors and tried to plot out a path to virtue. Yet by channelling her strong and unruly feelings into this book, Isabella also created a record and a memory of those feelings. She found herself telling a story, a serial in daily parts, in which she was the wronged and desperate heroine."
I think we all know where this is going to lead, but I am quite happy to let Summerscale be my guide in this journey. I wonder what happens to a woman in this situation? Simple divorce (well, nothing simple about it at that time) and the loss of her children to her husband? Loss of her money. What else? Surely it wasn't a crime what she did, though it is surely a crime what happened to her. I expect this will be a most illuminating (and likely maddening, too) read. I am hoping to make quick work of this book, and indeed it is a page-turner. I'll report back my findings!