The struggles which different passions occasion in the human breast, are here exemplified; and that there is no one among them so strong, but may be extirpated by another, excepting revenge, which knows no period, but by gratification.
Though it must be acknowledged, that the passions, generally speaking, operate according to the constitution, and seem, in a manner, wholly directed by it, yet there is one, above all, which actuates alike in all, and when once entertained, is scarce ever extinguished: — it may indeed lie dormant, for a time, but then it easily revives on the least occasion, and blazes out with greater violence than ever. I believe every one will understand I mean revenge, since there is no other emotion of the soul, but has its antedote: grief and joy alternately succeed each other; — hope has its period in possession; — fear ceases, either by the cause being removed, or by a fatal certainty of some dreaded evil; — ambition dies within us, on a just sense of the folly of pursuing it; — hate is often vanquished by good offices; — even greedy avarice may be glutted; and love is, for the most part, fluctuating, and may be terminated by a thousand accidents. — Revenge alone is implacable and eternal, not to be banished by any other passion whatsoever; — the effects of it are the same, invariable in every constitution; and whether the man be phlegmatic or sanguine, there will be no difference in his way of thinking in this point. The principles of religion and morality indeed may, and frequently do, hinder a man from putting into action what this cruel passion suggests, but neither of them can restrain him who has revenge in his heart, from wishing it were lawful for him to indulge it.
This being so fixed a passion, it hardly ever gains entrance on the mind, till a sufficient number of years have given a solidity to the thoughts, and made us know for what we wish, and why we wish. — Every one, however, does not experience its force, and happy may those be accounted who are free from it, since it is not only the most unjustifiable and dangerous, but also the most restless and self-tormenting emotion of the soul.
There are, notwithstanding, some kind of provocations, which it is scarce possible, nor indeed consistent with the justice we owe to ourselves, to bury wholly in oblivion; and likewise there are some kinds of revenge, which may deserve to be excused; of these, that which Natura put in practice, as shall presently be shewn, may be reckoned of the number.
I doubt not, but my readers, as well as all those who were acquainted with him at that time, will believe, that in the situation I have described, he was for ever lost to the sense of any other passion, than that which so powerfully engrossed him, and from which all the endeavours hitherto made use of, had been ineffectual to rouse him. But it often happens, that what we least expect, comes most suddenly upon us, and proves that all human efforts are in vain, without the interposition of some supernatural power.
I have already said, that the bad conduct of his wife had been repeated over and over to him without his discovering the least emotion at it; yet would not his sister cease urging him to resent it as became a man sensible of his dishonour, that is, to rid himself, by such ways as the law puts it in the power of a husband so injured, to get rid of her; and imagining that an ocular demonstration of her crime, would make a greater impression on him, than any report could do, she set about contriving some way to bring him where his own eyes might convince him of the truth of what he had been so often told: — but how to prevail on him to go out of his house, which he had not now seen the outside of for some months, was a difficulty not easily surmounted: — the obstinacy of grief disappointed all the little plots they laid for their purpose, and they were beginning to give over all thoughts of any future attempts, when chance accomplished the so-much desired work.
He had ordered a monument to be erected over the grave of his beloved son; which, being finished, and he told that it was so, “I will see,” said he, “if it be done according to my directions.” Two or three of his kindred were present when he took this resolution, and one of them immediately recollecting, how they might make it of advantage to their design, said many things in praise of the structure; but added, that the scaffolding and rubbish the workmen had left, not being yet removed, he would have him defer seeing it, till it was cleaned. To this he having readily agreed, spies were placed, to observe the time and place, where the lady and her favourite lover had the next rendezvous. As neither of them had any great caution in their amour, a full account was soon brought to the sister of Natura, who, with several of their relations, came into his chamber, and told him that the tomb was now fit to be seen in all its beauty.
On this he presently suffered himself to be dressed, and went with them; but they managed so well that, under pretence of calling on another friend, who, they said, had desired to be of their company in this melancholly entertainment, they led him to the house where his wife and enamorato were yet in bed. The sister of Natura having, by a large bribe, secured the woman of the house to her interest, they were all conducted to the very scene of guilt, and this much injured husband had a second testimony of the perfidy of his wife; but alas! the first had made too deep an impression on him to leave room for any great surprize; he only cooly turned away, and said to those who had brought him there, that they needed not have taken all this pains to make him a witness of what he was convinced of long before.
His wife, however, was frighted, if not ashamed, and hid herself under the bedcloaths, while her gallant jumped, naked as he was, out of the window; but though Natura discovered very little emotion at all this, yet whether it was owing to the arguments of his friends, or that the air, after having been so long shut up from it, had an effect on him, they could not determine, but had the satisfaction to find that he consented an action in his name should be awarded against the lover, and proper means used for obtaining a bill of divorce from his wife.
The real motive of this change in him none of them, however, could penetrate: — grief had for a while obliterated the thoughts of the injustice and ingratitude of his brother, but what he had now beheld reminding him of that shocking scene related in the first chapter of this book, all his long stifled wishes for revenge returned with greater force than ever; and thinking he could no way so fully gratify them, as by disappointing him of the estate he must enjoy at his decease, in case he died without issue, a divorce therefore would give him liberty to marry again; and as he was no more than three-and-forty years of age, had no reason to despair of having an heir, to cut entirely off the claim of so wicked a brother. Having once began to stir in the affair, it was soon brought to a conclusion. — The fact was incontestable, and proved by witnesses, whose credit left no room for cavil; a bill of divorce was granted on very easy terms, and the gallant fined in so large a penalty, that he was obliged to quit the kingdom, to avoid imprisonment for life.