CHAP. V.
Shews that there is no one human advantage to which all others should be sacrificed: — the force of ambition, and the folly of suffering it to gain too great an ascendant over us; — public grandeur little capable of atoning for private discontent; among which jealousy, whether of love or honour, is the most tormenting.
The desire of being well settled in the world is both natural and laudable; but then great care ought to be taken to moderate this passion, in order to prevent it from engrossing the mind too much; for it is the nature of ambition, not only to stop at nothing that tends to its gratification, but also to be ever craving new acquisitions, ever unsatisfied with the former. — One favourite point is no sooner gained, than another appears in view, and is pursued with the same eagerness: — what we once thought the summum bonum of our happiness, seems nothing when we have attained to the possession of it, while that which is unaccomplished, fires us with impatience, and robs us of every enjoyment we might take in life.
Natura having now been absent two years, thought the idle rumours concerning him, as to his principles in party-matters, would be pretty much silenced, so began to think of returning to England; he was the more encouraged to do so, as he found by his letters, that those in the ministry, who had appeared with most virulence against him, had been removed themselves, and that a considerable change in public affairs had happened. Accordingly, he set forward with all the expedition he could, feeling not the least regret for leaving a country he had never liked, nor where he had ever enjoyed any real satisfaction, and had been so near being plunged into the worst of misfortunes, that of an unhappy marriage: — no ill accident intervening, he arrived in England, and proceeded directly to London, where he was received with an infinity of joy by his father and sister, who happened at that time to come to town with her spouse, in order to place a young son they had at Westminster school.
The better genius of Natura now took its turn, and prevailed over his ill one: the person whose turbulent zeal had occasioned his late misfortune, had since, being detected in some mal practice in other affairs, been cashiered from an office he held under the government, and was in the utmost disgrace himself: every body was now assured, that Natura had done no more than what became any man of spirit and honour; and those who before had condemned, now applauded his behaviour: in fine, every thing happened according to his wishes, and, to crown his happiness, he married about ten months after his arrival, a young beautiful lady, of his father's recommendation, and who had indeed all the qualifications that can render the conjugal state desirable.
The promotion of a member of parliament to the house of peers for that county in which their estate lay, happening soon after, he stood for the vacant seat, and easily obtained it: — nothing now seemed wanting to compleat his perfect happiness, yet so restless is the heart of man, that gaining much, it yet craves for more; Natura had always a great passion for the court, meerly because it was a court, and gave an air of dignity to all belonging to it; he longed to make one among the shining throng; he was continually solliciting it, with an anxiety which deprived him of any true enjoyment of the blessings of his life; nor could all the arguments his father used to convince him of the vanity of his desires, nor the soft society of a most endearing and accomplished wife, render him easy under the many disappointments he received in the prosecution of this favourite aim.
The death of his father soon after, however, filled his bosom with emotions which he had never felt before in any painful degree; he was for some time scarce able to support the thoughts of having lost so tender and affectionate a parent: but as nothing is so soon forgot as death, especially when alleviated by the enjoyment of a greater affluence of fortune, his grief wore off by pretty swift degrees, and he was beginning to renew his pursuits after preferment, with the same assiduity and ardency as ever, when his wife died in bringing into the world a son. This second subject of sorrow struck indeed much more to his heart than the former had done, as he now wanted that comforter he had found in her. — All the consolation he had was in that little pledge of their mutual affection she had left behind; and it was for the sake of that dear boy, at least he imagined it so, that his ambition of making a great figure in the world again, revived in him, if possible, with greater energy than ever.
As he was now in possession of a very fine estate, had an agreeable person, rendered yet more so by all the advantages of education and travel, and not quite six-and-thirty, when he became a widower, his year of mourning was scarce expired, before all his friends and acquaintance began to talk to him of another wife, and few days past without proposals of that nature being made; but either the memory of the former amiable partner of his bed, or the experience he had in his own family of the ill effects that second marriages sometimes produce, made him deaf, for a long time, to any discourses on that head, though urged by those who, in other matters, had the greatest ascendant over him.
Though he was far from being arrived at those years which render a man insensible of beauty, yet he was past those which had made him look on the enjoyment of it as the supremest bliss: — the fond desires that once engrossed him, had for some time given way to the more potent ardors of ambition; — he now made not love his business but amusement; the amours he had were only transient, and merely to fill the vacancy of an idle hour: his thoughts were so wholly taken up with advancing himself, and becoming a man of consequence in the world, that it may be reasonably supposed, by his behaviour, and the manner in which he rejected all the offers made to him, that had he met with a woman, in whom all the perfections of the sex were centered, she would not have been able either to engage him to a serious attachment, or to have quitted those more darling pursuits, which the desire of greatness fired him with.
Thus fortified by his present inclinations against all the charms of youth, of wit, of beauty, there was but one temptation he had not the power of withstanding, and that one his ill fate at length presented to him. A certain great person, who at that time was at the head of public affairs, had a neice, who for many private reasons, he found it necessary to dispose of in marriage: Natura was the man he happened to pitch upon, as one who seemed to him a very proper person, and accordingly made him the offer, accompanied with a promise of getting him into a great post, which he knew he had been for a long time, and was still, solliciting, though without any prospect of success, without his assistance.
The young lady was not ugly, yet far from being mistress of charms capable of captivating a heart which had been filled with so many images of different beauties; but, as I have already said, love was not now the reigning passion of Natura's soul, and had she been much less amiable, the dowery she was to bring, sufficiently compensated for all other deficiencies, according to his present way of judging.
He hesitated not a moment to accept the minister's proposal; and a long courtship, as things were ordered between them, being needless, he became again a husband, in a very few days, after the first mention had been made of it, and at the same time was put in possession of what was much more welcome to him than his bride, even tho' she had been endowed with every virtue, every grace.
All for a time went smoothly on: — he saw himself in a rank and precedence, his birth could never have expected: — his wife's uncle loaded him with favours; he procured a commission of lieutenant in the guards for his younger brother by his mother-in-law, whom, in spite of the ill usage, with which both himself and his father had been treated by her, he had a very great affection for; — he also got employments for several others of his kindred; — his house was the rendezvous of the gay and titled world; — his friendship was courted by all his acquaintance, and his interest at court created him so many dependants, that his levee was little inferior to that of the minister himself.
This full attainment of all he wished, and even more than he had ever dared to indulge the hope of, might well render him extremely contented; — he was indeed pleased to excess, but the gladness of his heart was so far a virtue in him, as it prevented him at first from shewing any tokens of that pride, which a sudden variation of fortune frequently excites.
It is certain, his behaviour was such as gained him an equal share of love and respect; and he had this addition to his other blessings, of not having his advancement envied; a thing pretty rare about a court, where there are so many gaping after every office that falls.
They say ambition is a lust that is never quenched; and that the enjoyment of much brings with it only an impatience for more; that fresh objects, and new acquisitions, still presenting themselves, the mind is ever restless, ever anxious in the endless pursuit. — It is very likely this maxim might indeed have been verified in the mind of Natura, after the hurry of transport for what he had already obtained had been a little worn off, and made way for other aims; but he had scarce given over congratulating himself on his success, before a strange alteration, and such as he had least dreaded of, happened in his humour, and rendered him wholly incapable of retaining the least relish for all the blessings he possessed, and in which he so lately placed the ultimate of his wishes.
The compliments paid to him on his promotion and marriage, the giving and receiving visits from all his kindred and friends, together with the duties of his post, so much engrossed him for the first two or three months, that he had not time to give any attention to his domestic affairs, and happy would it have been for his peace if he had always continued in a total negligence in this point, as the fatal inspection plunged him into such distractions, as required many long years to compose.
In fine, he now discovered such dispositions to gallantry in his wife, as inflamed him with jealousy, to such a degree as it would be impossible to describe; — not that he had ever been possessed of any extraordinary love or fondness on her account; but the injury which he imagined was offered to his honour, by the freedoms with which she entertained several of those young courtiers which frequented his house, made him in a short time become the most discontented man alive.
Utterly impossible was it for him to conceal his disquiets; though the fears he had of displeasing the minister made him attempt it, as much as possible, and conscious of his ill dissimulation that way, the little notice she took of a chagrin he knew she could not but observe, very much added to it, as it seemed a certain proof of her indifference for him; a behaviour so widely different from the amiable tenderness of his former wife, dissipated all the little affection he had for her, and it was not long before she became even hateful to him; his jealousy however abated not with his love, her dishonour was his own, her person was his property by marriage, and the thoughts of any encroachment on his right were insupportable to him.
Whether she was in fact as yet guilty of those violations of her duty, which his imagination incessantly suggested to him she was, neither himself, nor the world, were ever able to prove; but it is certain her conduct was such, in every shape towards him, as gave but too much room for suspicion in the least censorious, and which growing every day more disagreeable to him, he at length had not the power of feigning an inattention to it. — He remonstrated to her the value every woman, especially those in high life, ought to set on her reputation; — told her plainly, that the severest censures had been past upon her, and without seeming to believe them just himself, intreated her to act with more reserve for the future.
All this, though delivered in the most gentle terms he could invent, had no other effect than to set her into an immoderate laughter: nothing could be more provoking, than the contempt with which she treated his advice; and on his insisting at last, in terms which she might think were somewhat too strong, on her being less frequently seen with some persons he mentioned to her, she answered in the most disdainful tone, that when she came to his years, she might, perhaps, look on the pleasures of life with the same eyes he did; but while youth and good humour lasted, she should deny herself no innocent indulgencies, and was resolved, let him and the world say what they would, not to anticipate old age and wrinkles.
As Natura was not yet forty, in perfect health, and consequently not past the prime of manhood, this reflection cast upon his years, could not but add to his disgust of her that made it, and he replied with a spite which was very visible in his countenance, that whatever disparity there was between their ages, it would soon diminish by the course of life she followed, and which, if she persisted in, would, in a very little time, make her become an object below the voice of censure.
They must know little of the sex, that do not know no affront can be so stinging as one offered to their beauty, even tho' conscious of having no great share of it; but the wife of Natura had heard too many flatteries, not to inspire her with the highest idea of her charms, which the little respect he now testified to have for them, did not at all abate, and only served to make her despise his stupidity, as she termed it.
No measures after this were kept between them; she seemed to take a pleasure in every thing that gave him pain; she coquetted before his face with every handsome man that came in her way, and in fine gave herself such airs as the most patient husband could not have permitted her long to persist in. Making use of the authority the laws had given him, he, in a manner, forced her into the country, upwards of an hundred miles from London, though it was then in the depth of winter, and placed persons about her, with orders to prevent her from all means of returning, till he should judge it proper for her so to do.
On this she wrote to her uncle, complaining of the hard treatment she received, and beseeching him to take some measures to oblige her husband to restore her liberty. The minister, who had at that time much greater concerns upon his hands on his own account, did not care to give himself any trouble about private family affairs; he only just mentioned to Natura the letter she had sent to him, and the purport of it; and on his relating to him the reasons that had compelled him to put this restraint on her behaviour, told him, he should not interfere between them; so that Natura found he had nothing to apprehend for what he had done.
Finding this step had produced nothing for her purpose, she at last condescended to submit to her justly offended husband; and on her solemn and repeated promises of regulating her conduct for the future in such a manner as he should approve, he was prevailed upon by her seeming contrition, to consent to make trial how far her heart corresponded with her professions: — it was agreed, to prevent the town from inspecting too deeply on what had passed, that she should pretend her absence from town had been the effect of her own choice, and for giving the better colour, he went down himself, and brought her up. — They lived together, after this, much better than they had done for some months before their quarrel, and were now, in appearance, perfectly reconciled; I say, in appearance, for all was outward shew, neither of them had in their hearts the least true affection, nor could forgive the other for what had passed between them.
The excessive constraint which both put upon themselves, in order to conceal the real sentiments of their hearts from each other, as well as from the world, could not but be extremely painful: — Natura suffered her as little as possible out of his sight, though he could have wished a possibility of avoiding her for ever, and was obliged to do all he could, to make that pass for a fondness of her presence, which was indeed only the effect of his jealousy of her behaviour in absence: — she affected to think herself happy in his company, for no other reason, than to win him to an assurance of her reformation, as might render him less observant than he had been of what she did, even at the time (as was afterwards discovered) when she seemed most sorry and angry with herself for having given him any cause of suspicion since their marriage.
Both, in fine, endured all that could make marriage dreadful, especially Natura, who having with his former wife experienced all the felicity of that state, was the more wretched by the sad alternative; and as he could not sometimes forbear comparing the present with the past, fell frequently into perfect convulsions of grief and remorse, for having plunged himself into it.
A perpetual dissimulation is what human nature finds among the things which are impossible to perform; — and I am pretty certain, that the most artful person that ever breathed, could not, at all times, and in all circumstances, restrain so far his real inclinations, as to give no indications of them to an observing eye; and it is scarce probable, but that the very attempt in Natura and his wife, gave rise to as many reflections on their conduct in this point, as there was too much room to make on others.
It was indeed a kind of farce acted by this unhappy pair, in which both played their parts so aukwardly, that the real character would frequently peep out, and though each dissembled, yet neither was deceived; but as I said before, this could not last for ever; and the ice being once broke in some unguarded humour either on the one or the other side, I cannot pretend to affirm on which, the torrent of their mutual disgust burst out with the greater force, for having been so long pent up: it is hard to tell which testified the most virulence, or expressed themselves in the most bitter terms: — all that can be determined is, that those of Natura shewed most of rage, and those his wife made use of, most of hatred.
After having fully vented all that was in their souls against each other, both became more calm; and agreed in this, as the only resource for ease in their present unhappy situation, to banish for the future all deceit between them, and never more pretend the least kindness or good-will to each other when in private, to lie in separate beds, and to be as seldom as possible alone together; but for the sake of both their reputations to continue in the same house, and before company to behave with reciprocal politeness.
These terms rid Natura of a great part of that insupportable constraint he had been under, but gave not the least satisfaction, as to his jealousy of honour; he doubted not but she would be guilty of many things, injurious in the highest degree to their public character, and which yet it would not so well become him to exert his authority in opposing, and these reflections gave him the most terrible inquietude; which shews, that though jealousy is called the child of love, it is very possible to feel all the tortures of the one, without being sensible of any of the douceurs of the other passion.
How dearly now did Natura pay for the gratification of his ambition! — What availed his grandeur, the respect paid him by his equals, and the homage of the inferior world! — What the pride of having it in his power to confer favours, when he had himself a heart torn with the most fierce convulsions, and less capable of enjoying the goods of fortune, than the most abject of those indigent creatures, who petitioned for relief from him! — By day, by night, alone, or in company, he was haunted with ideas the most distracting to his peace. — A smile on the face of his wife, seemed to him to proceed from the joy of having made some new conquest; a grave or melancholly look, from a disappointment on the account of a favourite gallant: yet as her person was the least thing he was tenacious of, the behaviour of others gave him greater pain than any thing she could do herself; — whoever spoke handsomely of her, he imagined insulted him; and those who mentioned her not at all, he thought were sensible of her levity, and his misfortune: — every thing he saw or heard, seemed to him a sad memento of his dishonour; and though he could not assure himself she had in fact been guilty of a breach of her virtue, he was very certain she had been so of that reserve and modesty which is the most distinguishable characteristic of it, and took from him the power of vindicating her innocence, or his own honour even though he had believed them safe, as becomes a husband, whose wife is more cautious of her conduct in this point.
Too delicate of the censure of the world, it gave him the utmost anxiety how to carry himself, so as not to afford any room to have it said he was either a jealous, or a too credulous husband; yet in spite of all his care, he incurred both these characters: — those who had heard of his sending her into the country, without being acquainted with the motives for his so doing, looked on him as the former; and those who saw her manner of behaviour, and the seeming politeness of his treatment of her, imagined him the latter: — so difficult is it for any one, who only sees the outside of things, to judge what they are in reality; yet the vanity of having it believed they are let into secrets, makes a great many people invent circumstances, and then relate for matters of fact, what are indeed no more than the suggestions of imagination, or, what is yet worse, the coinage of their own brain, without believing themselves what they take upon them to report to others.
This undoubtedly happened on the score of Natura and his wife, and occasioned not only many idle stories at tea-table conversation, but also many oblique hints to be sometimes given to himself, which, perhaps, there was not the least grounds for, but which greatly added to his disquiets; as when we think we have reason to believe part, we are ready to give credit to all we hear, especially in cases of this nature; it being the peculiar property of jealousy, to force the mind to grasp with eagerness, at every thing that tends to render it more afflicted and perplexed.