life, given that Hetty has frequently been portrayed as a dour woman to whom friendship meant nothing.
Shortly after their wedding, Mr. and Mrs. Edward Green sailed for England. This was more than just a honeymoon—they planned to live there, temporarily at least. While in Asia, Edward had developed a strong network of business contacts in England. But undoubtedly there were other reasons for the change of scenery. Hetty wanted to put as many miles as she could between herself and her recent past. Much of the testimony at the trial had been humiliating; every unattractive act or personal shortcoming was publicly exploited. New York, it seems, wasn’t far enough from New Bedford—an ocean would provide a more secure distance.
And then there was the looming issue of the trial, still waiting to be decided. This was a civil, not a criminal, trial, and Hetty had been the plaintiff, not the defendant. And yet the tables had turned during the course of the trial; as everyone knew, if the now-infamous “second page” was not genuine, then Hetty was by definition guilty of forgery. If Hetty was a forger, could criminal charges be far behind? Some of Hetty’s opponents had made rumblings about that possibility. Hetty may well have feared that she had finally gone too far. Some people suggested the relocation to England was a means of removing her from the arm of American justice. Hetty rejected any such insinuations as ridiculous. But still, she left.
One of the most persistent stories regarding the marriage is that Edward signed a prenuptial agreement laying no claim on Hetty’s fortune should she die first. It’s impossible today to verify whether such a document ever existed. But during this early phase of the Greens’ married life, Edward was making the choices about where and how they lived and he paid all the bills.
The Greens settled in London in the Langham Hotel, where they indulged Edward’s taste for the good life. The Langham,among the city’s first grand hotels, was just four years old when the Greens arrived in 1867, but already it was regarded as among London’s best and most fashionable addresses. It was located in Marylebone, in the northwestern portion of the city, along Portland Place. The Langham commanded fine views of Regent’s Park. It had been built for £300,000, with the latest plumbing and fire-resistant technology available. Four large pipes ran the height of the building, delivering water to each floor from tanks containing 50,000 gallons. The hotel boasted of its pure water sucked up from an artesian well sunk 365 feet into the ground. Shortly after the opening, the Langham became the place for visiting celebrities to stay. Guests included everyone from Napoleon III to Mark Twain. Twain wrote to a friend from the hotel in 1873, describing the rooms as “luxuriously ample” with fine views from broad windows out onto one of London’s best neighborhoods.
Marylebone was “the richest and most populous metropolitan parish,” according to
The National Gazetteer of Great Britain and Ireland
of 1868. The immediate neighborhood had a rich history. Boswell had lived in the area when he wrote his great biography,
Life of Johnson
, and Edward Gibbon had lived there for a time while completing his masterpiece,
The Decline and Fall of the
Roman
Empire.
Marylebone, according to the
Gazetteer
, “contained some of the finest squares, crescents, and mansions in the metropolis, including Cavendish and Portment-squares, Park-crescent and square, Manchester-square, Portland-place, the finest street in London, 100 feet wide, &c, and is inhabited by many of the first families in the empire, and likewise the Langham Hotel…. The inhabitants are chiefly gentry and trades-people, there being scarcely any manufactures.” It was, in short, just the sort of place Green adored, and just the sort of place for which Hetty liked to profess unbridled contempt.
The Greens lost no time in starting a family.
Shortly after their wedding, Mr. and Mrs. Edward Green sailed for England. This was more than just a honeymoon—they planned to live there, temporarily at least. While in Asia, Edward had developed a strong network of business contacts in England. But undoubtedly there were other reasons for the change of scenery. Hetty wanted to put as many miles as she could between herself and her recent past. Much of the testimony at the trial had been humiliating; every unattractive act or personal shortcoming was publicly exploited. New York, it seems, wasn’t far enough from New Bedford—an ocean would provide a more secure distance.
And then there was the looming issue of the trial, still waiting to be decided. This was a civil, not a criminal, trial, and Hetty had been the plaintiff, not the defendant. And yet the tables had turned during the course of the trial; as everyone knew, if the now-infamous “second page” was not genuine, then Hetty was by definition guilty of forgery. If Hetty was a forger, could criminal charges be far behind? Some of Hetty’s opponents had made rumblings about that possibility. Hetty may well have feared that she had finally gone too far. Some people suggested the relocation to England was a means of removing her from the arm of American justice. Hetty rejected any such insinuations as ridiculous. But still, she left.
One of the most persistent stories regarding the marriage is that Edward signed a prenuptial agreement laying no claim on Hetty’s fortune should she die first. It’s impossible today to verify whether such a document ever existed. But during this early phase of the Greens’ married life, Edward was making the choices about where and how they lived and he paid all the bills.
The Greens settled in London in the Langham Hotel, where they indulged Edward’s taste for the good life. The Langham,among the city’s first grand hotels, was just four years old when the Greens arrived in 1867, but already it was regarded as among London’s best and most fashionable addresses. It was located in Marylebone, in the northwestern portion of the city, along Portland Place. The Langham commanded fine views of Regent’s Park. It had been built for £300,000, with the latest plumbing and fire-resistant technology available. Four large pipes ran the height of the building, delivering water to each floor from tanks containing 50,000 gallons. The hotel boasted of its pure water sucked up from an artesian well sunk 365 feet into the ground. Shortly after the opening, the Langham became the place for visiting celebrities to stay. Guests included everyone from Napoleon III to Mark Twain. Twain wrote to a friend from the hotel in 1873, describing the rooms as “luxuriously ample” with fine views from broad windows out onto one of London’s best neighborhoods.
Marylebone was “the richest and most populous metropolitan parish,” according to
The National Gazetteer of Great Britain and Ireland
of 1868. The immediate neighborhood had a rich history. Boswell had lived in the area when he wrote his great biography,
Life of Johnson
, and Edward Gibbon had lived there for a time while completing his masterpiece,
The Decline and Fall of the
Roman
Empire.
Marylebone, according to the
Gazetteer
, “contained some of the finest squares, crescents, and mansions in the metropolis, including Cavendish and Portment-squares, Park-crescent and square, Manchester-square, Portland-place, the finest street in London, 100 feet wide, &c, and is inhabited by many of the first families in the empire, and likewise the Langham Hotel…. The inhabitants are chiefly gentry and trades-people, there being scarcely any manufactures.” It was, in short, just the sort of place Green adored, and just the sort of place for which Hetty liked to profess unbridled contempt.
The Greens lost no time in starting a family.
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