_Relates such things as the reader will, doubtless, think of very great
importance, yet will hereafter be found of much greater then he can at
present imagine_
After this much-injured wife had vented some part of the overflowing
passions of her soul in tears and exclamations, she began to consider,
with more calmness, in which manner she ought to behave, in so amazing a
circumstance. She had not the least propensity in her nature to
jealousy; yet she could not think that any thing less than a criminal
correspondence between her husband and this Frenchwoman, could induce
the one, or embolden the other, to act as they had done towards her.
'Neither divine nor human laws,' said she, 'nor any of those obligations
by which I have hitherto looked upon myself as bound, can now compel me
any longer to endure the cold neglects, the insults, the tyranny, of
this most ungrateful, most perfidious man! I have discharged the duties
of my station; I have fully proved I know how to be a good wife, if he
had known how to be even a tolerable husband: wherefore, then, should I
hesitate to take the opportunity, which this last act of baseness gives
me, of easing myself of that heavy yoke I have laboured under for so
many cruel months?'
She would not, however, do anything precipitately; it was not
sufficient, she thought, that she should be justified to herself, she
was willing also to be justified in the opinion of her friends: her
brother was the first person to be consulted; she resolved, therefore,
to go immediately to him; but as it was necessary to put something in
order before her departure, in case she should return no more, she
called the maid, who always waited on her in her chamber, to assist her
on this occasion.
She locked up her jewels, and what other trinkets she had of value, in
an amber-cabinet, and made her wearing-apparel be also disposed of in
proper utensils, leaving out only some linen, and other necessaries, for
the present use, which she also caused to be packed up. The poor maid,
who loved her mistress dearly, and easily guessed the meaning of these
preparations, could not refrain weeping all the time she was thus
employed. 'Ah, Madam!' cried she, 'what a sad thing it is that married
gentlemen will be so foolish!--Hang all the French, I say!'--'What do'st
mean, Jenny?' said Mrs. Munden. 'Ah, Madam!' replied she, 'I should have
told you before, but that I was afraid of making you uneasy: but, since
I find you know how things are, I shall make no secret of it. You may
remember, Madam, that you gave me leave last Monday to go to see my
sister--she lives in St. Martin's Lane--it would have been nearer for
me, indeed, to have gone through the Mews; but, I know not how it
happened, I went by Charing Cross; and, just as I was going to cross the
way, who should I see pop out of a hackney-coach but my master and this
Frenchwoman--they hurried together, arm in arm, into a bagnio--and you
know, Madam, some of those places have but an ugly name: for my part, I
was so confounded that I scarce knew whether I stood upon my head or my
heels; but I did not say a word of what I had seen when I came home,
till just now John came down and told us all how that wicked woman had
affronted you.'
Mrs. Munden then recalled that Mr. Munden's man was in the room when she
related the behaviour of Mademoiselle de Roquelair; which she now was
not sorry for, nor of the fresh proof given her by this maid of the
perfidy of her husband.
'Well, Jenny,' said she, 'I am not yet determined how I shall proceed; I
am going to my brother's, and shall take Tom with me: if I do not come
back to-night, he shall bring you instructions what things to send me;
but, in the mean time, say nothing to your master of what we have been
talking.'
Mrs. Munden could not forbear shedding tears, as she was going into her
chair, at the thoughts of this exile, voluntary as it was, from a house
she had so much right to call her own; but the poor maid roared out so
loud at seeing her depart, that it brought all the servants out of the
kitchen to know what was the matter; which, being told by Jenny,
occasioned so general a grief among them for the loss of so good a
mistress, that had Mademoiselle de Roquelair remained in the house, and
the same servants also been continued, it is possible she would have
had little either of respect or obedience from them.
But fortune spared this mortification, in order to inflict a much
greater one on her ingratitude and treachery. Mr. Munden had not quitted
the presence of his wife many minutes before he began to reflect
seriously on this accident; he found it might prove a very vexatious
one, if the consequences it seemed to threaten were not in time
prevented: he highly blamed Mademoiselle de Roquelair for her behaviour
to Mrs. Munden; not so much because it might give that lady room to
suspect in what manner he had wronged her, as because it plainly shewed
that the other intended to pin herself on him, and oblige him to support
her--a thing which did not at all suit with his humour; he had gratified
his passion almost to a surfeit--a very little longer time would have
made him as heartily wish to get rid of her, as he had ever done to gain
her; and although it could not be said he was as yet altogether cloyed
with the pleasures she so lavishly bestowed, yet a little examination
into the extent of his inclinations, convinced him that he could bear
the loss of her for ever without pain.
While the blood runs high, and the fire is rampant for possession,
prudence is of little force; but when the one begins to flag, the other
resumes its empire over the mind, and never rests till it finds means to
retrieve what it has lost: he could now consider that the money remitted
to Bologne by Mr. Thoughtless could be received by nobody but
Mademoiselle de Roquelair herself, and that it was probable that
gentleman, if told the usage that had been given to his sister, might be
provoked to recal his order, and prevent the payment of it at all. This
seemed, however, a plausible pretence for persuading her to go away
directly, and also for making a merit to his wife of what he did.
Having fully determined within himself how to proceed in this affair, he
shortened his morning's walk, and came home some hours before the usual
time: he was at first a little fretted on being told Mrs. Munden was
gone to her brother's, not doubting but the errand on which she went was
to complain of the treatment she had received; but Jenny carefully
concealing what her mistress had said to her concerning her intentions
of coming back no more, he passed it lightly over, imagining her
accusations and reproaches would cease, the object of them being once
removed.
He found no difficulty in prevailing on Mademoiselle de Roquelair to go
to Bologne. Three hundred louis-d'ors was too tempting a sum to be
forfeited merely for the want of a little jaunt, especially as she
considered that she might accomplish her business there and return to
London within the compass of a very few days; and he told her that he
would hire lodgings for her against her coming back.
'Well, then, my angel,' said he, 'no time is to be lost: as this is not
post day, if you set out immediately for Dover, you may be at Bologne,
and have received the money before any letter can reach that place to
prevent it; for it is very likely that the spite my wife has towards
you, may work upon the resentment of her brother to attempt such a
thing.' Everything being concluded upon for this expedition, he went
himself to procure a post-chaise, appointing her to meet him at a place
he mentioned to her in an hour at farthest.
As he had promised to send all her baggage to the lodgings which he
should provide for her return, she had nothing to do but to pack up some
few necessaries to take with her. This little work being soon over, a
hackney-coach carried her to the house that had been agreed upon; where
she saw a post-chaise already at the door, and the diligent Mr. Munden
waiting for her coming: as she proposed to reach Canterbury that same
night, and it was then past two o'clock, the lovers were obliged to take
a very hasty leave.
This double, deceitful man, having a farther view in what he did than
she had any notion of, told her, at parting, that it would be proper for
her to stay at Bologne till she received a letter from him with an
account in what street and part of the town the lodgings he should
provide for her were situated, to the end she might come directly into
them on her arrival: he spoke this with an air so full of tenderness and
care for her repose, that she had not the least suspicion of his drift;
and replied, that she would not fail to do as he advised, but desired he
would be as speedy as possible in writing to her; 'For,' cried she,
embracing him, 'I shall think every day a year till I return to the arms
of my dear Munden!'
Having thus, in reality, discarded, his mistress, though without her
knowing he had done so, he went home, in order to boast to his wife of
the complaisance he had shewn to her in this affair; but, finding she
was not yet come back, he called for her maid, and bid her tell her, the
moment she should return, that he had complied with her request, and
made the Frenchwoman go out of the house.
After having said this, he went out again, and came not home till late
at night; when he was confounded beyond measure on finding a letter from
Mrs. Munden, which had been left for him by her own footman in the
beginning of the evening; and contained these lines.
'To Mr. Munden.
Sir,
As you cannot but be sensible that the mutual engagements between
us have been strictly adhered to on my part, and almost in every
particular falsified on yours, you ought not to be surprized that I
have at last resolved to put a final end to a way of life so
unpleasing in the eyes of Heaven, and so disagreeable to ourselves:
it never was in my power to make you truly happy, nor in your will
to make me even tolerably easy; I therefore fly for ever from your
ill-usage, and once more put myself under the protection of my
friends, to whom I also shall commit the care of settling with you
the terms of our separation; which being once agreed upon, you will
not be troubled either with the complaints, or the reproaches, of
your much-injured wife,
B. MUNDEN.
P.S. I have removed nothing out of your house but what was my own
before marriage.'
Upon enquiring further into the matter, he was informed that Mrs. Munden
had, indeed, removed a large India-chest, a bureau, cabinet
dressing-table; and, in fine, every thing that belonged immediately to
herself; and also that his family was now reduced to two, her own man
and maid having followed her.
All this convincing him how much she was in earnest, involved him in the
most perplexing cogitations; not that he regretted the parting with her
through any remains of affection, or that his hardened heart was touched
with a just sensibility of her merit, or with any repentance of his ill
treatment of her; but that he knew such an affair must necessarily be
attended with some noise and confusion, and in many respects give him a
good deal of embarrassment: it was therefore these last two reasons
which alone determined him to make use of all his artifice to bring
about a second reconciliation.
That beautiful lady, in the mean time, had thoughts much more composed;
her brother had received her in the most affectionate manner--had
approved her conduct in regard to her unfaithful husband--had assured
her of the continuance of his friendship and protection; and, before she
could request it of him, invited her, and such of her servants as she
chose should attend her, to remain in his house as long as she should
think fit. He desired her to take upon her the sole command and
management of his house and family, and assigned the best apartment for
her particular use: in fine, he omitted nothing that might convince her
of a sincere welcome.
On discoursing together concerning her obtaining a separate maintenance,
it was the opinion of both of them, that Mr. Markland the lawyer should
be advised with, as he was a man who could not but be well experienced
in such affairs; and accordingly a servant was dispatched to that
gentleman, to desire he would come to them the next day.
But though she had reason to be highly satisfied with the reception
given her by her brother, yet she could not be quite easy till she
should hear what judgment her dear Lady Loveit would pass on the step
she had taken. She went the next morning to pay a visit at that lady's
toilette; she related to her sincerely every particular of the
provocation she had received, the manner in which she had resented it,
and the resolution she had taken of living in an eternal state of
separation from so bad a man: to which Lady Loveit replied, that though
she was extremely sorry for the occasion, yet she thought if she had
acted otherwise, it would have been an injustice not only to herself,
but to all wives in general, by setting them an example of submitting to
things required of them neither by law nor nature.
This encouragement, from a lady of her known scrupulous disposition,
made Mrs. Munden not doubt but she would be equally absolved by Lady
Trusty and her brother Frank; to both whom she wrote an account of all
she had done.
On her return from Lady Loveit's, she found a letter from Mr. Munden, in
answer to that she had sent to him the day before: the contents whereof
were as follow.
'To Mrs. Munden.
Madam,
The unaccountableness of your behaviour astonishes me! For heaven's
sake, how can you answer to yourself the having quitted your
husband's house for so trifling a pretence? It is true, I did not
at first give much regard to your complaint against Mademoiselle de
Roquelair; but, on considering it, I obliged her to depart
immediately. I do assure you she set out yesterday for Dover, and I
believe by this time is as far as Calais on her way to Bologne; so
that there now remains no excuse for your absenting yourself: and
if you should continue to do so, it will be a very plain proof that
you are extremely wanting in that duty and affection which the
laws both of God and man expect from you. But I flatter myself that
is not the case; and therefore expect you will return with all
possible expedition to him who will be always ready to prove
himself your most affectionate husband,
G. MUNDEN.
P.S. I know not what you mean by terms of separation: a wife who
elopes from her husband forfeits all claim to every thing that is
his, and can expect nothing from him till she returns to her
obedience; but were it otherwise, and the law entirely on your side
in this point, you might be certain that I look upon the happiness
of possessing you in too just a light to be easily brought into any
agreement that would deprive me of you.'
Though Mr. Munden wanted not cunning in most things, yet in writing this
epistle he seemed not to consider the spirit or the penetration of his
wife, who, he might have known, had too great a share of both to be
either intimidated by the majesterial air of some of the expressions, or
soothed by the fawning, unsincere compliments, of the others.
This vain attempt therefore only served to remind her of the many proofs
she had received both of his ill-nature and deceit towards her; and,
instead of weakening the resolution she had taken of not living with him
again, rather rendered it more strong and permanent.