Chapter VI: Part 6

It is hard to say, whether Maria, or her parents, were in the greatest consternation at these words; but he soon unravelled the mystery, by relating the whole story, not omitting what the assassin said in presenting the pistol, and then as a confirmation throwed the letter he had received into Maria's lap, and at the same time shewed the passage one of the bullets had made through the sleeve of his coat:--the young lady no sooner cast her eyes upon the letter, than she gave a great shriek, and crying out, 'O Humphry, Humphry! every way my ruin!' immediately fell fainting on the floor; her father, without regarding the condition she was in, snatched up the paper, the hand-writing of which he presently recollected, as having, it seems, intercepted several wrote by the same person;--'Abandoned, infamous creature,' cried he;--'shame of thy sex and family,' added the mother, striking her breast in the utmost agony:--in fine, never was such a scene of distraction and despair!--Natura, injured as he had been, could not behold it without compassion;--he ran by turns to Maria, endeavouring to raise her,--then to her parents, beseeching them to moderate their passion,--then to her again:--'You are too generous,' said the father, 'let her die, happy had it been if she had perished in the cradle':--Just as he spoke these words she revived, and lifting up her eyes, 'O, I am no murd'ress,' cried she, 'guilty as I am, in this Heaven knows my innocence.'--'It is false, it is false,' said the father; 'but were it true, canst thou deny, thou most abandoned wretch, that thou wert also ignorant that the villain who wrote this letter had followed us to Spaw, and bring a second shame upon us?'--She answered to this only with her tears, which assuring him she had no defence to make on this article, his rage grew more inflamed; he loaded her with curses, and could not keep himself from spurning her with his feet, as she still lay groveling on the ground, and might perhaps have proceeded to greater violences, had not Natura, by main force, with-held him, while her mother, tho' little less incensed against her, dragged her in a manner out of the room, more dead than alive.

The unhappy object removed from his sight, the provoked father grew somewhat more calm, and turning to Natura, 'You see now, sir,' said he, 'how unworthy this wretched girl is of that affection with which you once honoured her; but how shall I obtain your pardon for what the too great tenderness for an only child has made me guilty of to you;--all I can say is, that I hoped she had been reclaimed, and so far from even a wish to repeat her crimes, that she had only an utter detestation for the villain that had seduced her.'

Natura knew very well how he ought to judge of this affair; but as he had an aversion to dissimulation, and was unwilling to add any thing to the affliction he was witness to, he said little in answer to the other's apology, but that he was extremely sorry for Maria, and the misfortunes she had brought on the family; and then took his leave as soon as decency would permit; but with a firm resolution to hold no farther conversation, wherever they should hereafter happen to meet, with persons who had all of them, in their several capacities, used him so ill.

The assassin was soon after brought to a public trial, where tortures making him confess the truth, he acknowledged, that having been a servant in the family, the beauty of Maria had inspired him with desires, unbefitting the disparity between them;--that emboldened by an extraordinary goodness she shewed to him, he had declared his passion, and met with all the returns he wished;--that she became pregnant by him, and had made a vow to keep herself single, till the death of her father should leave her at liberty to marry him; but that an unlucky accident having discovered their amour, he was turned out of the house, and the grief Maria conceived at it occasioned an abortion; but that after her recovery she contrived means to meet him privately, and to support him with money, that he might not be obliged to go to service any more; that she had acquainted him with their coming to the Spa, and not only knew of his following them in disguise to that place, but contrived a rendezvous where they saw each other often, and he learned from her the addresses of Natura, and the positive commands laid on her by her parents of marrying him, in order to retrieve her honour and reputation; that as besides the extreme love he had for her, his own interest obliged him to hinder the match, if by any means he could; and finding no other than the death of his rival, he had attempted it by the way already mentioned: but cleared Maria, however, of all guilt on this score, who, he assured the court, knew nothing of his intentions of murder.

The sentence passed on him was, to be hanged in chains, which was accordingly executed in a few days; though Natura, pitying his case, in consideration of the greatness of the temptation, laboured for a mitigation of his doom.--He never saw the unfortunate Maria afterwards, but heard she was in a condition little different from madness, which making her parents think it improper she should return to England, they conveyed her to Liege, where they placed her as a pensioner in the convent of English nuns, there to remain till time and reflection should make a change in her, fit to appear again in the world; which proceeding in them shewed, that whatever aversion some people have to _this_, or _that_ form of religion, they can countenance, nay, pretend to approve it, when it happens to prove for their convenience to do so.

Natura was now intirely cured of his passion, but could not avoid feeling a very tender commiseration for her, who had been the unhappy object of it; he found also, on meditating on every passage of this adventure, that she was infinitely less to blame, in regard to him, than her parents had been; and that what he had accused, as cruel in her, was much more kind than the favour they had pretended for him.--When he reflected on the gulph of misery he had so narrowly escaped, he was filled with the most grateful sentiments to that Providence which had protected him; and also made sensible, that what we often pray for, as the greatest of blessings, would, if obtained, prove the severest curse:--a reflection highly necessary for all who desire any thing with too much ardency.

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.

BOOK the Third.

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.

CHAP. II.

Shews at what age men are most liable to the passion of grief: the
impatience of human nature under affliction, and the necessity there
is of exerting reason, to restrain the excesses it would otherwise
occasion.

There are certain periods of time, in which the passions take the deepest root within us; what at one age makes but a slight impression, and is easily dissipated by different ideas, at another engrosses all the faculties, and becomes so much a part of the soul, as to require the utmost exertion of reason, and all the aids of philosophy and religion to eradicate.--Grief, for example, is one of those passions which, in extreme youth, we know little of, and even when we grow nearer to maturity, has rarely any great dominion, let the cause which excites it be never so interesting, or justifiable: it may indeed be poignant for a time, and drive us to all the excesses imputed to that passion; but then it is of short continuance, it dwells not on the mind, and the least appearance of a new object of satisfaction, banishes it entirely; we dry our tears, and remember no more what so lately we lamented, perhaps with the most noisy exclamations:--but it is not so when riper years give a solidity and firmness to the judgment;--then as we are less apt to grieve without a cause, so we are less able to refrain from grieving, when we have a real cause.--Grief may therefore be called a reasonable passion, tho' it becomes not a reasonable man to give way to it;--this, at first sight, may seem a paradox to many people, but may easily be solved, in my opinion, on a very little consideration;--as thus,--because to be sensible of our loss in the value of the thing for which we mourn, is a proof of our judgment, as to refrain that mourning for what is past retrieving, within the bounds of moderation, is the greatest proof we can give of our reason:--a dull insensibility is not a testimony, either of wisdom or virtue; we are not to bear afflictions like _statues_, but like men; that is, we are allowed to _feel_, but not to _repine_, or be _impatient_ under them:--few there are, however, who have the power of preserving this happy medium, as I before observed, tho' they are such as have the assistance both of precept and experience.

In a word, all that can be expected from the best of men, when pressed with any heavy calamity, is to struggle with all his might to bear up beneath the weight with decency and resignation; and as grief never seizes strongly on the mind, till a sufficient number of years gives reason strength to combat with it, that consideration furnishes matter for praise and adoration of the all-wise and all-beneficent Author of our being, who has bestowed on us a certain comfort for all ills, if we neglect not to make use of it; so that no man can be unhappy, unless he will be so.

Motives for grief which happen on a sudden merit excuse for the extravagancies they sometimes occasion, because they surprize us unawares, reason is off her guard, and it cannot be expected we should be armed against what we had no apprehensions of;--presence of mind is an excellent, but rare quality, and we shall see very few, even among the wisest men, who are such examples of it, as to behave in the first shock of some unforeseen misfortune, with the same moderation and calmness of temper, as they would have done, had they had previous warning of what was to befal them.

Much, however, are the effects of this, as of all other passions, owing to constitution:--the robust and sanguine nature soon kindles, and is soon extinguished; whereas the phlegmatic is slow to be moved, and when so not easily settled into a calm: and tho' the difference of age makes a wide difference in our way of thinking, yet as there are old men at twenty, and boys at three-score, that rule is not without some exceptions. But to take nature in the general, and allowing for the different habits of body and complexion, we may be truly said to be most prone to particular passions at particular ages:--as in youth, love, hope, and joy;--in maturity, ambition, pride, and its attendant ostentation;--when more advanced in years, grief, fear, and despair;--and in old age, avarice, and a kind of very churlish dislike of every thing presented to us.

But to return to Natura, from whose adventures I have digressed; but I hope forgiveness for it, as it was not only the history of the man I took upon me to relate, but also to point out, in his example, the various progress of the passions in a human mind.

He acquitted himself of the important trust had been reposed in him, with all the diligence and discretion could be expected from him; and returned honoured with many rich presents from the prince to whom he had been sent, as a testimony of the sense he had of his abilities.