To illustrate this position, the fair one, as well as the disorder of her mind would permit, entered into a refined disquisition, full of all the metaphysics of gallantry, which proved that love—genuine love—is an æthereal essence, a union of souls, regulated by none of those formal principles, and founded upon none of those vulgar moral qualities on which friendship, and the other connexions of society, depend. Far, far above the jurisdiction of reason, true love creates perfect sympathy in taste, and an absolute identity of opinion upon all subjects, physical, metaphysical, moral, political, and economic. After having thus established her theory, her practice was wonderfully consistent, and she reasonably expected from her husband the most exact conformity to her principles—of course, his five senses and his understanding were to be identified with hers. If he saw, heard, felt, or understood differently from her, he did not, could not, love her. Once she was offended by his liking white better than black; at another time she was angry with him for loving the taste of mushrooms. One winter she quarrelled with him for not admiring the touch of satin, and one summer she was jealous of him for listening to the song of a blackbird. Then because he could not prefer to all other odours the smell of jessamine, she was ready “to die of a rose in aromatic pain.” The domain of taste, in the more enlarged sense of the word, became a glorious field of battle, and afforded subjects of inextinguishable war. Our heroine was accomplished, and knew how to make all her accomplishments and her knowledge of use. As she was mistress not only of the pencil, but of all “the cant of criticism,” had infinite advantages in the wordy war. From the beau ideal to the choice of a snuffer-dish, all came within her province, and was to be submitted, without appeal, to her instinctive sense of moral order.—Happy fruits of knowledge!—Happy those who can thus enlarge their intellectual dominion, and can vary eternally the dear delight of giving pain. The range of opinion was still more ample than the province of taste, affording scope for all the joys of assertion and declamation—for the opposing of learned and unlearned authorities—for the quoting the opinions of friends—counting voices instead of arguments—wondering at the absurdity of those who can be of a different way of thinking—appealing to the judgment of the whole world—or resting perfectly satisfied with her own. Sometimes the most important, sometimes the most trivial, and seemingly uninteresting subjects, gave exercise to Griselda’s powers; and in all cases being entirely of her opinion was the only satisfactory proof of love.
Our heroine knew how, with able generalship, to take advantage of time and situation.—Just before the birth of their child, which, by-the-bye, was born dead, a dispute arose between the husband and wife concerning public and private education, which, from its vehemence, alarmed the gentleman into a perfect conviction that he was in the wrong. Scarcely had Griselda gained this point, when a question arose at the tea-table respecting the Chinese method of making tea. It was doubted by some of the company whether it was made in a tea-pot or a tea-cup. Griselda gave her opinion loudly for the tea-pot—her lord and master inclined to the tea-cup; and as neither of them had been in China, they could debate without fear of coming to a conclusion. The subject seemed at first insignificant; but the lady’s method of managing it supplied all deficiencies, and roused all the passions of human nature on the one side or the other. Victory hung doubtful; but our heroine won the day by taking time into the account.—Her adversary was in a hurry to go to meet some person on business, and quitted the field of battle.
CHAPTER III.
“Self-valuing Fancy, highly-crested Pride,
Strong sovereign Will, and some desire to chide.”
“There are,” says Dr. Johnson, “a thousand familiar disputes which reason can never decide; questions that elude investigation, and make logic ridiculous—cases where something must be done, and where little can be said.—Wretched would be the pair above all names of wretchedness who should be doomed to adjust by reason every morning all the detail of a domestic day.”
Our heroine made a double advantage of this passage: for she regularly reasoned where logic was ridiculous, and could not be prevailed upon to listen to reason when it might have been useful.—She substituted her will most frequently for arguments, and often opposed it to her husband’s, in order to give him the merit of sacrificing his wishes. When he wanted to read, she suddenly wished to walk; when he wished to walk, she was immersed in her studies. When he was busy, she was talkative; when he was eager to hear her converse, she was inclined to be silent. The company that he liked, she disliked; the public amusements that she most frequented were those of which he least approved. This species of wilfulness was the strongest proof of her solicitude about his good opinion.—She could not bear, she said, that he should consider her as a child, who was not able to govern herself. She could not believe that a man had confidence in her unless he proved it by leaving her at liberty to decide and act for herself.
Sometimes she receded, sometimes she advanced in her claims; but without marking the daily ebbs and flows of her humour, it is sufficient to observe, that it continually encroached upon her husband’s indulgence. She soon insisted upon being consulted, that is, obeyed, in affairs which did not immediately come under the cognizance of her sex—politics inclusive. This apparently exorbitant love of power was veiled under the most affectionate humility.
“Oh, my love! I know you despise my abilities; you think these things above the comprehension of poor women. I know I am but your plaything after all: you cannot consider me for a moment as your equal or your friend—I see that!—You talk of these things to your friend Mr. Granby—I am not worthy to hear them.—Well, I am sure I have no ambition, except to possess the confidence of the man I love.”