"The Bath now talked loudly- I might almost say, roared against me.
Several young women affected to shun my acquaintance, not so much,
perhaps, from any real suspicion, as from a desire of banishing me
from a company in which I too much engrossed their favourite man.
And here I cannot omit expressing my gratitude to the kindness
intended me by Mr. Nash, who took me one day aside, and gave me
advice, which if I had followed, I had been a happy woman. 'Child,'
says he, 'I am sorry to see the familiarity which subsists between you
and a fellow who is altogether unworthy of you, and I am afraid will
prove your ruin. As for your old stinking aunt, if it was to be no
injury to you and my pretty Sophy Western (I assure you I repeat his
words), I should be heartily glad that the fellow was in possession of
all that belongs to her. I never advise old women: for, if they take
it into their head to go to the devil, it is no more possible than
worth while to keep them from him. Innocence and youth and beauty
are worthy a better fate, and I would save them from his clutches. Let
me advise you therefore, dear child, never suffer this fellow to be
particular with you again.' Many more things he said to me, which I
have now forgotten, and indeed I attended very little to them at
that time; for inclination contradicted all he said; and, besides, I
could not be persuaded that women of quality would condescend to
familiarity with such a person as he described.
"But I am afraid, my dear, I shall tire you with a detail of so many
minute circumstances. To be concise, therefore, imagine me married;
imagine me with my husband, at the feet of my aunt; and then imagine
the maddest woman in Bedlam, in a raving fit, and your imagination
will suggest to you no more than what really happened.
"The very next day my aunt left the place, partly to avoid seeing
Mr. Fitzpatrick or myself, and as much perhaps to avoid seeing any one
else; for, though I am told she hath since denied everything
stoutly, I believe she was then a little confounded at her
disappointment. Since that time, I have written to her many letters,
but never could obtain an answer, which I must own sits somewhat the
heavier, as she herself was, though undesignedly, the occasion of
all my sufferings: for, had it not been under the colour of paying his
addresses to her, Mr. Fitzpatrick would never have found sufficient
opportunities to have engaged my heart, which, in other circumstances,
I still flatter myself would not have been an easy conquest to such
a person. Indeed, I believe I should not have erred so grossly in my
choice if I had relied on my own judgment; but I trusted totally to
the opinion of others, and very foolishly took the merit of a man
for granted, whom I saw so universally well received by the women.
What is the reason, My dear, that we, who have understandings equal to
the wisest and greatest of the other sex, so often make choice of
the silliest fellows for companions and favourites? It raises my
indignation to the highest pitch, to reflect on the numbers of women
of sense who have been undone by fools." Here she paused a moment;
but, Sophia making no answer, she proceeded as in the next chapter.
Chapter 5
In which the history of Mrs. Fitzpatrick is continued
"We remained at Bath no longer than a fortnight after our wedding;
for as to any reconciliation with my aunt, there were no hopes; and of
my fortune, not one farthing could be touched till I was of age, of
which I now wanted more than two years. My husband, therefore, was
resolved to set out for Ireland; against which I remonstrated very
earnestly, and insisted on a promise which he had made me before our
marriage, that I should never take this journey against my consent;
and indeed I never intended to consent to it; nor will anybody, I
believe, blame me for that resolution; but this, however, I never
mentioned to my husband, and petitioned only for the reprieve of a
month; but he had fixed the day, and to that day he obstinately
adhered.
"The evening before our departure, as we were disputing this point
with great eagerness on both sides, he started suddenly from his
chair, and left me abruptly, saying he was going to the rooms. He
was hardly out of the house, when I saw a paper lying on the floor,
which, I suppose, he had carelessly pulled from his pocket, together
with his handkerchief. This paper I took up, and, finding it to be a
letter, I made no scruple to open and read it; and indeed I read it so
often, that I can repeat it to you almost word for word. This then was
the letter:
To Mr. Brian Fitzpatrick
SIR,- Yours received, and am surprized you should use me in this
manner, as have never seen any of your cash, unless for one
linsey-woolsey coat, and your bill now is upwards of L150. Consider,
sir, how often you have fobbed me off with your being shortly to be
married to this lady and t' other lady; but I can neither live on
hopes or promises, nor will my woollen-draper take any such in
payment. You tell me you are secure of having either the aunt or the
niece, and that you might have married the aunt before this, whose
jointure you say is immense, but that you prefer the niece on
account of her ready money. Pray, sir, take a fool's advice for
once, and marry the first you can get. You will pardon my offering
my advice, as you know I sincerely wish you well. Shall draw on you
per next post, in favour of Messieurs John Drugget and company, at
fourteen days, which doubt not your honouring, and am,
Sir, your humble servant,
SAM COSGRAVE.
"This was the letter, word for word. Guess, my dear girl- guess how
this letter affected me. You prefer the niece on account of her
ready money! If every one of these words had been a dagger, I could
with pleasure have stabbed them into his heart; but I will not recount
my frantic behaviour on the occasion. I had pretty well spent my tears
before his return home; but sufficient remains of them appeared in
my swollen eyes. He threw himself sullenly into his chair, and for a
long time we were both silent. At length, in a haughty tone, he
said, 'I hope, madam, your servants have packed up all your things;
for the coach will be ready by six in the morning.' My patience was
totally subdued by this provocation, and I answered, 'No, sir, there
is a letter still remains unpacked;' and then throwing it on the
table, I fell to upbraiding him with the most bitter language I
could invent.
"Whether guilt, or shame, or prudence, restrained him, I cannot say;
but, though he is the most passionate of men, he exerted no rage on
this occasion. He endeavoured, on the contrary, to pacify me by the
most gentle means. He swore the phrase in the letter to which I
principally objected was not his, nor had he ever written any such. He
owned, indeed, the having mentioned his marriage, and that
preference which he had given to myself, but denied with many oaths
the having assigned any such reason. And he excused the having
mentioned any such matter at all, on account of the straits he was
in for money, arising, he said, from his having too long neglected his
estate in Ireland. And this, he said, which he could not bear to
discover to me, was the only reason of his having so strenuously
insisted on our journey. He then used several very endearing
expressions, and concluded by a very fond caress, and many violent
protestations of love.
"There was one circumstance which, though he did not appeal to it,
had much weight with me in his favour, and that was the word
jointure in the taylor's letter, whereas my aunt never had been
married, and this Mr. Fitzpatrick well knew.-- As I imagined,
therefore, that the fellow must have inserted this of his own head,
or from hearsay, I persuaded myself he might have ventured likewise on
that odius line on no better authority. What reasoning was this, my
dear? was I not an advocate rather than a judge?- But why do I mention
such a circumstance as this, or appeal to it for the justification of
my forgiveness?- In short, had he been guilty of twenty times as much,
half the tenderness and fondness which he used would have prevailed on
me to have forgiven him. I now made no farther objections to our
setting out, which we did the next morning, and in a little more
than a week arrived at the seat of Mr. Fitzpatrick.
"Your curiosity will excuse me from relating any occurrences which
past during our journey; for it would indeed be highly disagreeable to
travel it over again, and no less so to you to travel it over with me.
"This seat, then, is an ancient mansion-house: if I was in one of
those merry humours in which you have so often seen me, I could
describe it to you ridiculously enough. It looked as if it had been
formerly inhabited by a gentleman. Here was room enough, and not the
less room on account of the furniture; for indeed there was very
little in it. An old woman, who seemed coeval with the building, and
greatly resembled her whom Chamont mentions in the Orphan, received us
at the gate, and in a howl scarce human, and to me unintelligible,
welcomed her master home. In short, the whole scene was so gloomy
and melancholy, that it threw my spirits into the lowest dejection;
which my husband discerning, instead of relieving, encreased by two or
three malicious observations. 'There are good houses, madam,' says he,
'as you find, in other places besides England; but perhaps you had
rather be in a dirty lodgings at Bath.'
"Happy, my dear, is the woman who, in any state of life, hath a
cheerful good-natured companion to support and comfort her! But why do
I reflect on happy situations only to aggravate my own misery? my
companion, far from clearing up the gloom of solitude, soon
convinced me that I must have been wretched with him in any place, and
in any condition. In a word, he was a surly fellow, a character
perhaps you have never seen; for, indeed, no woman ever sees it
exemplified but in a father, a brother, or a husband; and, though
you have a father, he is not of that character. This surly fellow
had formerly appeared to me the very reverse, and so he did still to
every other person. Good heaven! how is it possible for a man to
maintain a constant lie in his appearance abroad and in company, and
to content himself with shewing disagreeable truth only at home? Here,
my dear, they make themselves amends for the uneasy restraint which
they put on their tempers in the world; for I have observed, the
more merry and gay and good-humoured my husband hath at any time
been in company, the more sullen and morose he was sure to become at
our next private meeting. How shall I describe his barbarity? To my
fondness he was cold and insensible. My little comical ways, which
you, my Sophy, and which others, have called so agreeable, he
treated with contempt. In my most serious moments he sung and
whistled; and whenever I was thoroughly dejected and miserable, he was
angry, and abused me; for, though he was never pleased with my
good-humour, nor ascribed it to my satisfaction in him, yet my low
spirits always offended him, and those he imputed to my repentance
of having (as he said) married an Irishman.
"You will easily conceive, my dear Graveairs (I ask your pardon, I
really forgot myself), that, when a woman makes an imprudent match
in the sense of the world, that is, when she not an arrant
prostitute to pecuniary interest, she must necessarily have some
inclination and affection for her man. You will as easily believe that
this affection may possibly be lessened; nay, I do assure you,
contempt will wholly eradicate it. This contempt I now began to
entertain for my husband, whom I now discovered to be- I must use the
expression- an arrant blockhead. Perhaps you will wonder I did not
make this discovery long before; but women will suggest a thousand
excuses to themselves for the folly of those they like: besides,
give me leave to tell you, it requires a most penetrating eye to
discern a fool through the disguises of gaiety and good breeding.
"It will be easily imagined that, when I once despised my husband,
as I confess to you I soon did, I must consequently dislike his
company; and indeed I had the happiness of being very little
troubled with it; for our house was now most elegantly furnished,
our cellars well stocked, and dogs and horses provided in great
abundance. As my gentleman therefore entertained his neighbours with
great hospitality, so his neighbours resorted to him with great
alacrity; and sports and drinking consumed so much of his time, that a
small part of his conversation, that is to say, of his ill-humours,
fell to my share.
"Happy would it have been for me if I could as easily have avoided
all other disagreeable company; but, alas! I was confined to some
which constantly tormented me; and the more, as I saw no prospect of
being relieved from them. These companions were my own racking
thoughts, which plagued and in a manner haunted me night and day. In
this situation I past through a scene, the horrors of which can
neither be painted nor imagined. Think, my dear, figure, if you can,
to yourself, what I must have undergone. I became a mother by the
man I scorned, hated, and detested. I went through all the agonies and
miseries of a lying-in (ten times more painful in such a
circumstance than the worst labour can be when one endures it for a
man one loves) in a desert, or rather, indeed, a scene of riot and
revel, without a friend, without a companion, or without any of
those agreeable circumstances which often alleviate, and perhaps
sometimes more than compensate, the sufferings of our sex at that
season."
Chapter 6
In which the mistake of the landlord throws Sophia into a dreadful
consternation
Mrs. Fitzpatrick was proceeding in her narrative, when she was
