The Ontario Readers: The High School Reader, 1886 Part 16

It being his Majesty's pleasure, that I should yet have another opportunity to write before he dissolves the Parliament, I avail myself of it with all possible alacrity. I thank you for your last, which was not the less welcome for coming, like an extraordinary gazette, at a time when it was not expected.

As when the sea is uncommonly agitated, the water finds its way into creeks and holes of rocks, which in its calmer state it never reaches, in like manner the effect of these turbulent times is felt even at Orchard Side, where in general we live as undisturbed by the political element as shrimps or c.o.c.kles that have been accidentally deposited in some hollow beyond the water-mark, by the usual dashing of the waves.

We were sitting yesterday after dinner, the two ladies and myself, very composedly, and without the least apprehension of any such intrusion in our snug parlor, one lady knitting, the other netting, and the gentleman winding worsted, when to our unspeakable surprise a mob appeared before the window; a smart rap was heard at the door, the boys bellowed, and the maid announced Mr. Grenville. Puss was unfortunately let out of her box, so that the candidate, with all his good friends at his heels, was refused admittance at the grand entry, and referred to the back door, as the only possible way of approach.

Candidates are creatures not very susceptible of affronts, and would rather, I suppose, climb in at the window, than be absolutely excluded.

In a minute, the yard, the kitchen, and the parlor were filled. Mr.

Grenville, advancing toward me, shook me by the hand with a degree of cordiality that was extremely seducing. As soon as he, and as many more as could find chairs, were seated, he began to open the intent of his visit. I told him I had no vote, for which he readily gave me credit. I a.s.sured him I had no influence, which he was not equally inclined to believe, and the less, no doubt, because Mr. Ashburner, the draper, addressing himself to me at this moment, informed me that I had a great deal. Supposing that I could not be possessed of such a treasure without knowing it, I ventured to affirm my first a.s.sertion, by saying, that if I had any I was utterly at a loss to imagine where it could be, or wherein it consisted. Thus ended the conference. Mr. Grenville squeezed me by the hand again, kissed the ladies, and withdrew. He kissed likewise the maid in the kitchen, and seemed upon the whole a most loving, kissing, kind-hearted gentleman. He is very young, genteel, and handsome. He has a pair of very good eyes in his head, which not being sufficient, as it should seem, for the many nice and difficult purposes of a senator, he has a third also, which he suspended from his b.u.t.tonhole. The boys halloo'd, the dogs barked, puss scampered, the hero, with his long train of obsequious followers, withdrew. We made ourselves very merry with the adventure, and in a short time settled into our former tranquillity, never probably to be thus interrupted more. I thought myself, however, happy in being able to affirm truly that I had not that influence for which he sued; and which, had I been possessed of it, with my present views of the dispute between the Crown and the Commons, I must have refused him, for he is on the side of the former. It is comfortable to be of no consequence in a world where one cannot exercise any without disobliging somebody. The town, however, seems to be much at his service, and if he be equally successful throughout the country, he will undoubtedly gain his election. Mr.

Ashburner, perhaps, was a little mortified, because it was evident I owed the honor of this visit to his misrepresentation of my importance.

But had he thought proper to a.s.sure Mr. Grenville that I had three heads, I should not, I suppose, have been bound to produce them....

_Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That cheer but not inebriate wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in._

COWPER.--_The Winter Evening_.

XXVII. FROM "THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL."[G]

RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN.--1751-1816.

SCENE.--_A Room in_ SIR PETER TEAZLE'S _House._

_Enter_ SIR PETER TEAZLE.

_Sir Pet._ When an old bachelor marries a young wife, what is he to expect? 'Tis now six months since Lady Teazle made me the happiest of men--and I have been the most miserable dog ever since. We tiffed a little going to church, and fairly quarrelled before the bells had done ringing. I was more than once nearly choked with gall during the honeymoon, and had lost all comfort in life before my friends had done wishing me joy. Yet I chose with caution--a girl bred wholly in the country, who never knew luxury beyond one silk gown, nor dissipation above the annual gala of a race ball. Yet she now plays her part in all the extravagant fopperies of fashion and the town with as ready a grace as if she never had seen a bush or a gra.s.s-plot out of Grosvenor Square!

I am sneered at by all my acquaintance, and paragraphed in the newspapers. She dissipates my fortune, and contradicts all my humors; yet the worst of it is, I doubt I love her, or I should never bear all this. However, I'll never be weak enough to own it. But I meet with nothing but crosses and vexations--and the fault is entirely hers. I am, myself, the sweetest-tempered man alive, and hate a teasing temper; and so I tell her a hundred times a day.--Ay! and what is very extraordinary, in all our disputes she is always in the wrong. But Lady Sneerwell, and the set she meets at her house, encourage the perverseness of her disposition. Then, to complete my vexation, Maria, my ward, whom I ought to have the power of a father over, is determined to turn rebel too, and absolutely refuses the man whom I have long resolved on for her husband--

_Enter_ LADY TEAZLE.

Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I'll not bear it!

_Lady Teaz._ Sir Peter, Sir Peter, you may bear it or not, as you please; but I ought to have my own way in everything, and, what's more, I will too. What! though I was educated in the country, I know very well that women of fashion in London are accountable to n.o.body after they are married.

_Sir Pet._ Very well, ma'am, very well; so a husband is to have no influence, no authority?

_Lady Teaz._ Authority! No, to be sure. If you wanted authority over me, you should have adopted me, and not married me: I am sure you were old enough.

_Sir Pet._ Old enough!--ay, there it is. Well, well, Lady Teazle, though my life may be made unhappy by your temper, I'll not be ruined by your extravagance!

_Lady Teaz._ My extravagance! I'm sure I'm not more extravagant than a woman of fashion ought to be.

_Sir Pet._ No, no, madam, you shall throw away no more sums on such unmeaning luxury. Such wastefulness! to spend as much to furnish your dressing-room with flowers in winter as would suffice to turn the Pantheon into a greenhouse, and give a _fete champetre_ at Christmas.

_Lady Teaz._ And am I to blame, Sir Peter, because flowers are dear in cold weather? You should find fault with the climate, and not with me.

For my part, I'm sure I wish it was spring all the year round, and that roses grew under our feet.

_Sir Pet._ Oons! madam--if you had been born to this, I shouldn't wonder at your talking thus; but you forget what your situation was when I married you.

_Lady Teaz._ No, no, I don't; 'twas a very disagreeable one, or I should never have married you.

_Sir Pet._ Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat a humbler style--the daughter of a plain country squire. Recollect, Lady Teazle, when I saw you first sitting at your tambour, in a pretty figured linen gown, with a bunch of keys at your side, your hair combed smooth over a roll, and your apartment hung round with fruits in worsted, of your own working.

_Lady Teaz._ Oh, yes! I remember it very well, and a curious life I led.

My daily occupation--to inspect the dairy, superintend the poultry, make extracts from the family receipt-book, and comb my aunt Deborah's lap-dog.

_Sir Pet._ Yes, yes, ma'am, 'twas so indeed.

_Lady Teaz._ And then you know my evening amus.e.m.e.nts! To draw patterns for ruffles, which I had not materials to make up; to play Pope Joan with the curate; to read a sermon to my aunt; or to be stuck down to an old spinet to strum my father to sleep after a fox-chase.

_Sir Pet._ I am glad you have so good a memory. Yes, madam, these were the recreations I took you from; but now you must have your coach--_vis-a-vis_--and three powdered footmen before your chair; and, in the summer, a pair of white cats to draw you to Kensington Gardens.

No recollection, I suppose, when you were content to ride double, behind the butler, on a docked coach-horse.

_Lady Teaz._ No--I vow I never did that: I deny the butler and the coach-horse.

_Sir Pet._ This, madam, was your situation; and what have I done for you? I have made you a woman of fashion, of fortune, of rank--in short, I have made you my wife.

_Lady Teaz._ Well, then, and there is but one thing more you can make me to add to the obligation, that is----

_Sir Pet._ My widow, I suppose?

_Lady Teaz._ Hem! hem!

_Sir Pet._ I thank you, madam--but don't flatter yourself; for, though your ill conduct may disturb my peace of mind, it shall never break my heart, I promise you: however, I am equally obliged to you for the hint.

_Lady Teaz._ Then why will you endeavor to make yourself so disagreeable to me, and thwart me in every little elegant expense?

_Sir Pet._ Madam, I say, had you any of these little elegant expenses when you married me?

_Lady Teaz._ Sir Peter! would you have me be out of the fashion?

_Sir Pet._ The fashion, indeed! what had you to do with the fashion before you married me?

_Lady Teaz._ For my part, I should think you would like to have your wife thought a woman of taste.

_Sir Pet._ Ay--there again--taste! Zounds! madam, you had no taste when you married me!

_Lady Teaz._ That's very true, indeed, Sir Peter! and after having married you, I should never pretend to taste again, I allow. But now, Sir Peter, since we have finished our daily jangle, I presume I may go to my engagement at Lady Sneerwell's.

_Sir Pet._ Ay, there's another precious circ.u.mstance--a charming set of acquaintances you have made there!

_Lady Teaz._ Nay, Sir Peter, they are all people of rank and fortune, and remarkably tenacious of reputation.

_Sir Pet._ Yes, they are tenacious of reputation with a vengeance; for they don't choose anybody should have a character but themselves! Such a crew! Ah! many a wretch has rid on a hurdle who has done less mischief than these utterers of forged tales; coiners of scandal, and clippers of reputation.