CHAP. I.

Shews in what manner anger and revenge operate on the mind, and how

ambition is capable of stifling both, in a remarkable instance, that

_private injuries_, how great soever, may seem of no weight, when

_public grandeur_ requires they should be looked over.

Nothing is so violent as anger in its first emotions, it takes the

faculties by surprize, and rushes upon the soul like an impetuous

torrent, bearing down all before it: its strength, however, is owing

to its suddenness; for being raised by some new and unexpected

accident or provocation, reason has no warning of its approach, and

consequently is off her guard, and without any immediate power of

acting: the sweetest, and most gentle disposition, is not always a

sufficient defence for the mind, against the attacks of this furious

passion, and may be hurried by it to deeds the most opposite to its

own nature; but then as it is fierce, it is transient also; should its

force continue, it would lose its name, and be no longer anger, but

revenge; which, though the worst and most fiend-like propensity of a

vicious inclination, is sometimes excited by circumstances, that seem

in a great measure to alleviate the blackness of it:--repeated and

unprovoked insults, friendship and love abused, injuries in our

person, our fortune, or reputation, will sour the softest temper, and

are apt to make us imagine it is an injustice to our selves, not to

retaliate in kind, the ill treatment we receive. Religion, indeed,

forbids us to take our own parts thus far, and philosophy teaches,

that it is nobler to forgive, than punish wrongs; but every one is not

so happy as to have either of these helps; and I do not find but those

who boast both of them in the most superlative degree, stand in need

of something more, to enable them to restrain this prevailing impulse;

and that it is not so much to the precepts they receive from others,

as to some dictates from within, that many people are indebted for the

reputation of patience and forbearance.

It is the peculiar providence of Heaven, as I took notice in the

beginning of this work, that the more ignoble passions of human

nature, are, generally speaking, opposites, and by that means serve as

a curb to bridle the inordinancy of each other; so that, though _one

alone_ would be pernicious to society, and render the person possessed

of it obnoxious to the world, _many_ will prevent the hurt, and make

the man himself tolerable.

The adventure I am now going to relate, will prove that Natura had the

greatest excitements, and the greatest justification both for wrath

and revenge that could possibly be offered to any one man: yet did

another passion, not more excusable than either of these, suppress all

the turbulent emotions of both, and quench the boiling flames within

his soul, insomuch as to make him appear all calmness and

contentedness.

But though I made use of the word passion to express the now

prevailing propensity of Natura's soul, I do not think that ambition,

strictly speaking, can come under that denomination:--to me it rather

seems the effect of an assemblage of other passions, than a passion

simple of itself, and natural to the mind of man; and I believe,

whoever examines it to the fountain head, will find it takes its

origin from pride and envy, and is nourished by self-love, nor ever

appears in any great degree, where these do not abound.--Were it born

with us, there would doubtless be some indications of it in

childhood, but it is observable, that not till man arrives at

maturity, and even not then, unless the sight of objects above himself

excites it, he discovers the least sensation of any such emotion.--In

fine, it is an inclination rarely known in youth, ordinarily declines

in age, and never exerts itself with vigour, as in the middle stage of

life, which I reckon to be from about five-and-twenty to fifty, or

somewhat more, according to the strength of the natural stamina, or

constitution.--But to go on with my history.

Since Natura had been in what they call a settled state in the world,

it had always been his custom to distinguish the anniversary of that

day which gave him birth, by providing a polite entertainment for his

friends and kindred: he had now attained to his fortieth year, and

though it had been that in which he had known more poignant disquiets,

than in any one of his whole life before; yet thinking that to neglect

the observation of it now, would give occasion for remarks on his

reasons for so doing, he resolved to treat it with the usual ceremony.

It was in that delightful season of the year, when nature, adorned

with all her charms, invites the senses to taste that regale in the

open air, which the most elegant and best concerted entertainments

within doors cannot atone for the want of. After dinner was over, the

whole company which was pretty numerous, adjourned from the table to

the garden, a small, but well ordered spot of ground, at the lower end

of which was a green-house, furnished with many curious exotic plants.

While Natura was shewing this collection to those of his guests, who

had a taste that way, others were diverting themselves with walking in

the alleys, or set down in arbors, according as their different

fancies inclined, as it is common for people to divide themselves into

little parties, when there are too many for all to share in a general

conversation.

As they were thus employed, the minister, who though he had not

thought it beneath the dignity of his character to do honour to the

birth-day of the husband of his neice, yet had his mind taken up with

other things than the amusements of the place, took Natura aside on a

sudden, and asked him if he had not a paper in his custody, which he

had some time before put into his hands; to which the other answering

in the affirmative, 'There are some things in it I do not well

remember,' said the great man; 'and a thought just now occurs to me,

in which they may be of use':--Natura then offered to fetch it; 'No,'

replied the other, 'I will go with you, and we will examine it

together.'

There was no need of making any apology to the company, they being, as

I have already said, dispersed in several parts of the garden; but had

they not been so, the statesman was absolute master wherever he came,

and no one would have taken umbrage at Natura's following him.

They went hastily up stairs together, and the door of a room, thro'

which they were to pass to Natura's study, being shut, he gave a push

against it with his foot, and it being but slightly fastened,

immediately flew open, and discovered a sight no less unexpected than

shocking to both;--the wife, and own brother of Natura, on a couch,

and in a posture which could leave no room to doubt of the motive

which had induced them to take the opportunity of the company

separating themselves, to retire, without being missed, which, but for

this accident, they probably would not have been.

It is easy to conceive what a husband must feel in so alarming a

circumstance, nor will any one wonder that Natura behaved in the

manner he did, in the first emotions of a rage, which might very well

be justified by the cause that excited it.--Not having a sword on, he

flew to the chimney, on each side of which hung a pistol; he snatched

one off the hook, and was going to revenge the injury he had received

on one or both the guilty persons, when the minister, stepping

between, beat down that arm which held the instrument of death, crying

at the same time, 'What, are you a madman!--would you to punish them

expose yourself!'--The passion with which Natura was overwhelmed was

too mighty for his breast; it stopped the passage of his words, and

all he could bring out was 'villain!'--'whore'--while those he called

so, made their escape from his fury, by running out of the room. In

attempting to follow them he was still with-held; and the minister

having with much ado got the pistol from him, began to expostulate

with him, in order to disarm his mind from pursuing any future

revenge, as he had done his hand from executing the present.

'Consider,' said the statesman, 'that these are but slips of nature,

that there are in this town a thousand husbands in the same

situation:--indeed the affair happening with your own brother, very

much enhances the crime and the provocation; but as the thing is done,

and there is no remedy, it will but add to your disgrace to make it

public.'

Little would it have been in the power of all the arguments in the

world, if made use of by any other person, to have given a check to

that just indignation Natura was inflamed with: but as patience and

moderation were prescribed him by one to whom he was indebted for all

the grandeur he enjoyed, and by whose favour alone he could hope for

the continuance, of it, he submitted to the task, difficult as it was,

and consented to make no noise of the affair. The minister assured him

he would oblige his brother to exchange the commission he was at

present possessed of, for one in a regiment that was going to

Gibraltar, 'which,' said he, 'will be a sufficient punishment for his

crime, and at the same time rid you of the sight of a person who

cannot but be now detestable to you;--as to your wife, I expect you

will permit her to continue in your house, in consideration of her

relation to me, but shall not interfere with the manner of your living

together;--that shall be at your own discretion.'

As neither of them imagined the lady, after what had happened, would

have courage enough to go down to the company, it was agreed between

them to make her excuse, by saying, a sudden disorder in her head had

obliged her to absent herself.

Natura cleared up his brow as much as it was possible for him to do in

such a circumstance, and returned with the minister to his guests,

among whom, as he supposed, he found neither his wife nor brother; as

for the latter, much notice was not taken of his absence, but the

ladies, by this time, were full of enquiries after her; on which he

immediately made the pretence above-mentioned; but unluckily, one of

the company having been bred to physic, urged permission to see her,

in order to prescribe some recipe for her ailment.--Natura was now

extremely at a loss what to do, till the minister, who never wanted an

expedient, relieved him, by telling the doctor, that his neice had

been accustomed to these kind of fits from her infancy, that it was

only silence and repose which recovered her, which being now gone to

take, any interruption would be of more prejudice than benefit.

This passed very well, and no farther mention was made of her; but the

accident occasioned the company to take leave much sooner than

otherwise they would have done, very much to the ease of Natura, who

had been in the most intolerable constraint, to behave so as to

conceal the truth, and longed to be alone, to give a loose to the

distracting passions of his soul.

The more he ruminated on the wrongs he had sustained, the more

difficult he found it to preserve that moderation the minister had

enjoined, and he had promised: he had long but too much reason to

believe his wife was false; but the thought that she had entered into

a criminal conversation with his own brother, rendered the guilt

doubly odious in them both.--Had not his own eyes convinced him of the

horrid truth, he could have given credit to no other testimony, that a

brother, whom he had always treated with the utmost affection, and

whose fortune it had been his care to promote, should have dared to

harbour even the most distant wish of dishonouring his wife. He

seemed, in his eyes, the most culpable of the two, and thought the

banishment intended for him much too small a punishment for so

atrocious a crime. It is certain that this young gentleman had not

only broke through the bands of duty, honour, gratitude, and every

social obligation, but had also sinned against nature itself, by

adding incest to adultery.--Natura could not indeed consider him as

any thing but a monster, and that as such he ought to be cut off from

the face of the earth; and neither reason nor humanity, could alledge

any thing against the dictates of a revenge, which by the most

unconcerned and disinterested person could not be called

unjust.--Strongly did its emotions work within his soul, and he was

more than once on the point of going in search of him, in order to

satiate its most impatient thirst, but was as often restrained, by

reflecting on the consequences.--'Suppose,' said he to himself, 'I

should escape that death the law inflicts for murder, in consideration

of the provocation, I cannot hope to preserve my employments.--I must

retire from the world, live an obscure life the whole remainder of my

days, and the whole shameful adventure being divulged, will render me

the common topic of table conversation, and entail dishonour and

contempt upon my son.'

Thus did ambition get the better of resentment;--thus did the love of

grandeur extirpate all regard of true honour, and the shame of private

contempt from the world lie stifled in the pride of public homage.

The minister in the mean time kept his word; he let the offending

brother know it was his pleasure he should dispose of his commission

in the guards, and purchase one in a regiment he named to him, which

was very speedily to embark for Gibraltar: the young gentleman obeyed

the injunction, and doubtless was not sorry to quit a place, where

some accident or other, in spite of all the care he had resolved to

take, might possibly bring him to the sight of a brother he had so

greatly injured, the thoughts of whose just reproaches were more

terrible to him, than any thing else that could befal him.

The wife of Natura being also privately admonished by her uncle how to

behave, kept her chamber for some days, not only to give the better

colour to the pretence had been made of her indisposition, but also to

avoid the presence of her husband, till the first emotions of his fury

should be a little abated;--he, on the other hand, profited by this

absence, to bring himself to a resolution how to behave, when the

shock of seeing her should arrive:--as her crime was past recal,

reproaches and remonstrances would be in vain to retrieve her honour,

or his peace; and if they even should work her into penitence, what

would it avail? unless to soften him into a pity, which would only

serve to render him more uneasy, as there was now no possibility of

living with her as a wife.--Having, therefore, well weighed and

considered all these things, it seemed best to him to say nothing to

her of what had happened, and indeed to avoid speaking to her at all,

except in public.

What she thought of a behaviour she had so little reason to expect,

and what effect it produced on her future conduct, shall hereafter be

related: I shall only say at present, that Natura gave himself no pain

to consider what might be her sentiments on the occasion, as long as

he found her uncle was perfectly satisfied with his manner of acting

in this point, which he had no reason to doubt of, not only by the

assurances he gave him in words of his being so, but by a more

convincing and substantial proof, which was this; an envoy

extraordinary being about to be sent to a foreign court, on a very

important negociation, he had the honour of being recommended, as a

gentleman every way qualified for the duties of that post.--The

minister's choice of him was approved by the king and council, and he

set out on his embassy, with an equipage and state, which, joined to

the attention he gave to what he was employed in, greatly dissipated

the chagrin of his private affairs, and he seemed to have forgot, for

a time, not only the injuries he had received, but also even the

persons from whom he had received them.

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