“And, vanquish’d, quit victoriously the field.”
Griselda flung the book from her as her husband entered the room.
“You have had an answer, madam, from your friend, Mrs. Nettleby, I
perceive,” said he, calmly.
“I have, sir. Family reasons prevent her from receiving me at present;
therefore I have determined upon going to Weymouth; where, indeed, I
always wished to spend this summer.”
Mr. Bolingbroke evinced no surprise, and made not the slightest
opposition. Mrs. Bolingbroke was so much vexed, that she could
scarcely command her countenance: she bit her lip violently.
“With respect to any arrangements that are to be made, I am to
understand that you wish me to address myself to Mr. J. Nettleby,”
said her husband.
“No, to myself, if you please; I am prepared to listen, sir, to
whatever you may have to propose.”
“These things are always settled best in writing,” replied Mr.
Bolingbroke. “Be so obliging as to leave me your direction, and you
shall hear from me, or from Mrs. Granby, in a few days.”
Mrs. Bolingbroke hastily wrote a direction upon a card, and put it
into her husband’s hand, with as much unconcern as she could maintain.
Mr. Bolingbroke continued, precisely in the same tone: “If you have
any thing to suggest, that may contribute to your future convenience,
madam, you will be so good as to leave a memorandum with me, to which
I shall attend.”
He placed a sheet of paper before Mrs. Bolingbroke, and put a pen into
her hand. She made an effort to write, but her hand trembled so that
she could not form a letter. Her husband took up Saint Lambert, and
read, or seemed to read.--“Open the window, Mr. Bolingbroke,” said
she. He obeyed, but did not, as formerly, “hang over her enamoured.”
He had been so often duped by her fainting-fits and hysterics, that
now, when she suffered in earnest, he suspected her of artifice. He
took up his book again, and marked a page with his pencil. She wrote
a line with a hurried hand, then starting up, flung her pen from her,
and exclaimed--“I need not, will not write; I have no request to make
to you, Mr. Bolingbroke; do what you will; I have no wishes, no wish
upon earth--but to leave you.”
“That wish will be soon accomplished, madam,” replied he, unmoved.
She pulled the bell till it broke.--A servant appeared.
“My carriage to the door directly, if you please, sir,” cried she.
A pause ensued. Griselda sat swelling with unutterable
rage.--“Heavens! have you no feeling left?” exclaimed she, snatching
the book from his hand; “have you no feeling left, Mr. Bolingbroke,
for any thing?”
“You have left me none for some things, Mrs. Bolingbroke, and I thank
you. All this would have broken my heart six months ago.”
“You have no heart to break,” cried she.--The carriage drove to the
door.
“One word more, before I leave you for ever, Mr. Bolingbroke,”
continued she.--“Blame yourself, not me, for all this.--When we were
first married, you humoured, you spoiled me; no temper could bear
it.--Take the consequences of your own weak indulgence.--Farewell.”
He made no effort to retain her, and she left the room.
----“Thus it shall befall
Him who to worth in woman overtrusting
Lets tier will rule: restraint she will not brook;
And left to herself, if evil thence ensue,
She first his _weak indulgence_ will accuse.”
A confused recollection of this warning of Adam’s was in Mr.
Bolingbroke’s head at this moment.
Mrs. Bolingbroke’s carriage drove by the window, and she kissed her
hand to him as she passed. He had not sufficient presence of mind
to return the compliment. Our heroine enjoyed this last triumph of
superior temper.
Whether the victory was worth the winning, whether the modern Griselda
persisted in her spirited sacrifice of happiness, whether she was
ever reconciled to her husband, or whether the fear of “reforming
and growing stupid” prevailed, are questions which we leave to the
sagacity or the curiosity of her fair contemporaries.
“He that knows better how to tame a shrew,
Let him now speak, ‘tis charity to shew.”
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: Fact.]
[Footnote 2: _Feel_ it, become sensible of it, know it.]
[Footnote 3: _Nor_, than.]
[Footnote 4: As it may be satisfactory to a large portion of the
public, and to all men of taste, the editor subjoins the following
account of the Irish ortolan, which will convince the world that this
bird is not in the class of fabulous animals:
“There is a small bird, which is said to be peculiar to the Blasquet
Islands, called by the Irish, Gourder, the English name of which I
am at a loss for, nor do I find it mentioned by naturalists. It is
somewhat larger than a sparrow; the feathers of the back are dark, and
those of the belly are white; the bill is straight, short, and thick;
and it is web-footed: they are almost one lump of fat; when roasted,
of a most delicious taste, and are reckoned to exceed an ortolan; for
which reason the gentry hereabouts call them the _Irish Ortolan_.
These birds are worthy of being transmitted a great way to market;
for ortolans, it is well known, are brought from France to supply the
markets of London.”--See Smith’s Account of the County of Kerry, p.
186.
[Footnote 5: _Convenient_, near.]
[Footnote 6: Do I make you understand?]
[Footnote 7: Owned.]
[Footnote 8: _Neger_, quasi negro; meo periculo, _niggard_]
[Footnote 9: _Opening_; perhaps, from _lacher_, to loosen.]
[Footnote 10: What I can do without.]
[Footnote 11: Leaving any woman out of the question.]
[Footnote 12: In the first place, my lady, it is impossible! Surely my
lady will not get out of her carriage here?]
[Footnote 13: To be sure it must be as my lady pleases--but my lady
will find it terribly dirty!--my Lady will find I was right--my lady
will never get up that shocking staircase--it is impossible!]
[Footnote 14: It was of this lady that Marmontel said--“She has the art
of making the most common thoughts appear new, and the most uncommon
simple, by the elegance and clearness of her expressions.”]
[Footnote 15: To these observations there are honourable exceptions.]
[Footnote 16: _Vapeurs noirs_--vulgarly known by the name of _blue
devils_.]
[Footnote 17: Since this was written, the author has seen the same
thoughts so much better expressed in the following lines that she
cannot forbear to quote them:
“Since trifles make the sum of human things,
And half our mis’ry from our foibles springs;
Since life’s best joys consist in peace and ease,
And few can save or serve, but all may please:
Oh! let th’ungentle spirit learn from hence,
A small unkindness is a great offence.
Large bounties to bestow we wish in vain;
But all may shun the guilt of giving pain.”
SENSIBILITY. _By Mrs. H. More._]
[Footnote 18: “Il est très-difficile de se faire une idée nette de ce
que les Anglais entendent par ce mot; on a tenté plusieurs fois sans
succès d’en donner une définition précise. Congreve, qui assurement a
mis beaucoup d’_humour_ dans ses comédies, dit, que c’est _une manière
singulière et inévitable de faire ou de dire quelque chose, qui est
naturelle et propre à un homme seul, et qui distingue ses discours et
ses actions des discours et des actions de tout autre._
“Cette définition, que nous traduisons littéralement, n’est pas
lumineuse; elle conviendrait également à la manière dont Alexandre
parle et agit dans Plutarque, et à celle dont Sancho parle et agit
dans Cervantes. II y a apparence que l’_humour_ est comme l’esprit, et
que ceux qui en ont le plus ne savent pas trop bien ce que c’est.
“Nous croyons que ce genre de plaisanterie consiste surtout dans des
idées ou des tournures originales, qui tiennent plus au caractère qu’à
l’esprit, et qui semblent échapper à celui qui les produit.
“L’homme d’_humour_ est un plaisant sérieux, qui dit des choses
plaisantes sans avoir l’air de vouloir être plaisant. Au reste, une
scene de Vanbrugh ou une satire de Swift, feront mieux sentir ce que
c’est, que toutes les définitions du monde. Quant à la prétention
de quelques Anglais sur la possession exclusive de l’_humour_,
nous pensons que si ce qu’ils entendent par ce mot est un genre de
plaisanterie qu’on ne trouve ni dans Aristophane, dans Plaute, et
dans Lucien, chez lea anciens; ni dans l’Arioste, le Berni, le Pulci,
et tant d’autres, chez les Italiens; ni dans Cervantes, chez les
Espagnols; ni dans Rabener, chez les Allemands; ni dans le Pantagruel,
la satire Ménippée, le Roman comique, les comédies de Molière, de
Dufrèny, de Regnard etc., nous ne savons pas ce que c’est, et nous
ne prendrons pas la peine de la chercher.”--_Suard, Mélanges de
Littérature_, vol. iv. p. 366.]
[Footnote 19: See Botanic Garden, canto 2.]
[Footnote 20: De Retz’ Memoirs.]
[Footnote 21: M. de Saint Lambert, Oeuvres Philosophiques, tome ii.]
END OF VOLUME VI
End of Project Gutenberg’s Tales and Novels, Vol. 6, by Maria Edgeworth