“E sol quei giorni io mi vidi contenta,
Ch’averla compiaciuto mi trovai.”
“You are a great deal more courageous than I am, my dear,” said Emma
to her husband, after Mr. Bolingbroke had left them. “I should be very
much afraid of interfering between your friend and his wife.”
“What is friendship,” said Mr. Granby, “if it will run no risks? I
must run the hazard of being called a mischief-maker.”
“That is not the danger of which I was thinking,” said Emma; “though I
confess that I should be weak enough to fear that a little: but what I
meant to express was an apprehension of our doing harm where we most
wish to do good.”
“Do you, my dear Emma, think Griselda incorrigible?”
“No, indeed,” cried Emma, with anxious emphasis; “far from it. But
without thinking a person incorrigible, may we not dislike the idea
of inflicting correction? I should be very sorry to be the means of
giving Griselda any pain; she was my friend when we were children; I
have a real regard for her, and if she does not now seem disposed to
love me, that must be my fault, not hers: or if it is not my fault,
call it my misfortune. At all events, I have no right to force myself
upon her acquaintance. She prefers Mrs. Nettleby; I have not the false
humility to say, that I think Mrs. Nettleby will prove as safe or as
good a friend as I hope I should he. But of this Mrs. Bolingbroke has
a right to judge. And I am sure, far from resenting her resolution to
avoid my acquaintance, my only feeling about it, at this instant, is
the dread that it should continue to be a matter of dispute between
her and her husband.”
“If Mr. Bolingbroke insisted, or if I advised him to insist upon his
wife’s coming here, when she does not like it,” said Mr. Granby,
“I should act absurdly, and he would act unjustly; but all that he
requires is equality of rights, and the liberty of going where _he_
pleases. She refuses to come to see you: he refuses to go to see Mr.
John Nettleby. Which has the best of the battle?”
Emma thought it would be best if there were no battle; and observed,
that refusals and reprisals would only irritate the parties, whose
interest and happiness it was to be pacified and to agree. She said,
that if Mr. Bolingbroke, instead of opposing his will to that of his
wife, which, in fact, was only conquering force by force, would speak
reasonably to her, probably she might be induced to yield, or to
command her temper. Mrs. Granby suggested, that a compromise, founded
on an offer of mutual sacrifice and mutual compliance, might be
obtained. That Mr. Bolingbroke might promise to give up some of his
time to the man he disliked, upon condition that Griselda should
submit to the society of a woman to whom she had an aversion.
“If she consented to this,” said Emma, “I would do my best to make her
like me; or at least to make her time pass agreeably at our house: her
liking me is a matter of no manner of consequence.”
Emma was capable of putting herself entirely out of the question,
when the interest of others was at stake; her whole desire was to
conciliate, and all her thoughts were intent upon making her friends
happy. She seemed to live in them more than in herself, and from
sympathy arose the greatest pleasure and pain of her existence. Her
sympathy was not of that useless kind which is called forth only by
the elegant fictitious sorrows of a heroine of romance; hers was ready
for all the occasions of real life; nor was it to be easily checked
by the imperfections of those to whom she could be of service. At
this moment, when she perceived that her husband was disgusted by
Griselda’s caprice, she said all she could think of in her favour: she
recollected every anecdote of Griselda’s childhood, which showed an
amiable disposition; and argued, that it was not probable her temper
should have entirely changed in a few years. Emma’s quick-sighted
good-nature could discern the least portion of merit, where others
could find only faults; as certain experienced eyes can discover
grains of gold in the sands, which the ignorant have searched, and
abandoned as useless. In consequence of Emma’s advice--for who would
reject good advice, offered with so much gentleness?--Mr. Granby wrote
a note to Mr. Bolingbroke, to recommend the compromise which she had
suggested. Upon his return home, Mr. Bolingbroke was informed that
his lady had gone to bed much indisposed; he spent a restless night,
notwithstanding all his newly-acquired magnanimity. He was much
relieved in the morning by his friend’s note, and blessed Emma for
proposing the compromise.