Mr. And Mrs. Woodbridge
Page 3
"If you disapprove of parties you ought not to have a party. I thought you were a man that always professed to act up to your principles."
"I endeavor to do so. And one of my principles is to accept no favors without making a return as far as lies in my power. I disapprove of prodigality, but I hate meanness."
"It is wicked to hate any thing. But married men get into such a violent way of talking. When pa' did break out, he was awful. And then, instead of arguing the point, ma' and I always quitted the room, and left him to himself. He soon cooled down when he found there was nobody to listen to him: and the next day he was glad enough to make his peace and give up."
Woodbridge could endure no more, but hastily left the room himself: and Charlotte walked to the glass and arranged her curls, and altered the tie of her neck−ribbon; and then sat down and worked at the everlasting MR. AND MRS. WOODBRIDGE.
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Mr. and Mrs. Woodbridge
dog.
PART II.
Finding it utterly impossible to prevail on his wife to consent to a large party, Woodbridge next endeavored to persuade her to invite a few families at a time (sociably, as the ladies call it,) till they had thus gone round all their acquaintances.
"Why this is worse than the other way" exclaimed Charlotte "really, Mr. Woodbridge, I am surprised at you. Did I not tell you, when we were first married, that ma' never had any evening company whatever, except when she gave a squeeze once in the season. The expense of having a few people at a time is endless, and there is no eclat in it either, as there is with a large general party; so it is an absolute throwing away of money."
"Then let us have a large general party."
"Harvey you really make me sick. Will you never cease harping on the same subject. Is it an affair of life and death, our paying back again what we owe to the people who saw proper to invite us. Shall we lose our characters if we do not?"
"Yes."
"Was there ever such nonsense."
"Our characters will so far suffer that we shall be justly considered mean, sordid, and inhospitable."
"Will any one ask us why we do not invite company. How can they kuow what reasons we may have? And then again how business−like to regard the thing as an affair of debtor and creditor! But men will be men."
"Charlotte" said Harvey Woodbridge "I am tired of this foolish contention and I insist, (yes I positively insist) on a few of our friends being invited to take tea with us to−morrow evening. Next week we will have a few more, and so on, till we shall have entertained at our own house, the whole circle of our acquaintances."
"But when these people paid me their bridal visits" said Charlotte, "I carried my politeness so far as to hint to every one of them a general invitation to come and see us of an evening without ceremony, as soon as they chose."
"No matter" returned her husband "why should they hasten to avail themselves of a mere general invitation, when there is no reason for their not receiving a special one. Among women I know very well that volunteer visits are only made where there is a very familiar intimacy; and never when the parties are but newly or slightly acquainted. Again supposing that any of these ladies or gentlemen were to take you at your word are we ever prepared for unexpected guests? Could we receive them in this vile room that you insist on living in; or in the cold dark parlors, with the fire out, and no lamp lighted."
Mrs. Woodbridge began to conclude that, for this time, she had best give up to her husband; and therefore, with a very ill grace, she finally consented to his desire; and he felt so happy at having carried his point, that he apologized for the epithet he had bestowed on the sitting−room; and conceded that, used in moderation, there was some convenience in having such places.
PART II.
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Mr. and Mrs. Woodbridge
Accordingly, invitations were given to three married couples, one widow, two young ladies and three young gentlemen; all of them being among those of our hero's friends, who stood highest in his esteem, from whom his wife had received the utmost civility, and in whose eyes she was most anxious that she and her domestic arrangements should appear to the greatest advantage. In the interim, he took particular care to be as amiable to her as possible: only once giving her occasion to say that "all men were fools."
Harvey Woodbridge came home from his store in excellent spirits, anticipating the most splendid evening he had yet enjoyed in his own house. Anxious to keep his wife in good humor, he had foreborne during the day to offer any suggestion as to the preparations for the evening; merely hinting his hope that every thing would be arranged in a liberal and convenient manner."
"Why should you doubt it?" replied Charlotte "But I am not going to tell you a word beforehand. Perhaps I shall surprise you."
"So much the better" said Woodbridge gaily and he resolved to trust entirely to his wife, and to ask no questions; calculating greatly on this surprise that was in store for him, and feeling persuaded that, on this, their first reception of evening company, she would take care that all should be sclon les regles.
But, a "change came o'er the spirit of his dreams" when he found that at seven o'clock the parlors were not lighted; Mrs. Woodbridge, who had not yet began to dress, averring that people never arrived till at least one hour after the time specified, and that she would encourage no useless waste of oil. About ten minutes past seven the door−bell rang, our heroine flew to her toilet, and Mr. Woodbridge had the mortification of seeing the first detachment of visitors make their entrance by the light of a dim and newly−kindled fire; the ladies leaving their cloaks and hoods in the entry; Charlotte having given orders that nobody should be shown up stairs. The servant man now hurried to light the lamps which stood on the centre−tables in each parlor, omitting those on the mantel−piece, because he knew that they were unfurnished with oil, as they had never yet been prepared for use.
In a very short time all the guests had arrived, and Woodbridge was obliged for nearly an hour to entertain them entirely himself; his consort not being ready to made her appearance. Finally, the beautiful Charlotte came down elegantly and elaborately drest: and smiled, and looked sweet, and expressed to the company her regret at not being aware of their intention of coming so early, and her delight at their having done so, as by that means she should have the pleasure of enjoying a larger proportion of their society.
Then she took her seat, changing it occasionally so as to afford each of the guests a share of her talk. They were all intelligent people, with cultivated minds and polished manners, and Woodbridge, who was well able himself, to sustain apart in rational and amusing conversation, thought his wife had never talked with less tact and more folly. She discoursed with untiring volubility on new style bonnets, new style shawls, and remembered with surprising accuracy the exact figures of certain new style mouselines de laines, embroidered chalys, and brocaded satins. And she varied her declamations by describing divers patterns for worsted work, particularly the new style dog that she was doing for the cover of a tabouret, and to which she was going to give a companion in the shape of a basket of fruit, to be taken in hand for another tabouret as soon as the present occupant was out of the frame.
After a while, the attention of the visiters began to flag; all seemed to grow dull and tired, and our hero felt that he was becoming dull and tired himself, and in fact quite out of spirits. The truth was, he wanted his tea, and thought that all the company did the same; and his only hope was now in the exiliarating influence of
"the cups that cheer but not inebriate." The time−piece showed the hour of nine, and still there was no sign of tea. He wondered it did not appear, and was at a loss to conjecture what had retarded it.
PART II.
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Mr. and Mrs. Woodbridge
At last, the conversation subsided into silence, and after a dead pause, Mrs. Woodbridge proposed music. For herself she had never been able to acquire any proficiency in the art, and therefore did not profess to play. But she had
insisted on the purchase of a highly ornamented instrument as an elegant piece of furniture for the back parlour, and because, as she "No decent house is without a piano."
She sat two young ladies down to the overture to La Cenerentola played as a duet, aud which she said was
"ma's favorite." During the move which generally takes place when music is about to commence, Woodbridge found an opportunity of saying in a low voice to his wife "I wish the music had been deferred till after tea. We have already waited too long, and want something to brighten us."
"People must be badly off when their brightness depends upon tea" replied Charlotte, also soto voce "is that the only excuse you can make for being so stupid this evening you and your select friends. But sensible people are always stupid at least I find them so." Then turning amay from her husband, she walked into the other parlor, and taking her seat beside a lady who was looking over the splendid annuals that lay on the table, our heroine remarked that a figure in one of the plates reminded her of a celebrated actress then performing at the Chesnut street theatre; and from thence she ran into a minute description of the costume of that actress in every character in which she had seen her. The truth was that our fair Charlotte never observed or remembered any thing concerning a play, except the habiliments of the performers; her eyes being chiefly engaged in wandering round the boxes, and taking cognizance of the caps, turbans, feathers, flowers, and other head ornaments there displayed.
The overture to La Cenerentola was played mechanically well, the musicians (like the hearers) being tired before they began. When it was over, the young ladies rose from the instrument, and returned with the rest of the company to the other room; and it was well they did so, for in a few minutes the back−parlour lamp died out, self−extinguished for want of sufficient oil.
At length, Mrs. Woodbridge desired her husband to touch the bell, and he obeyed with alacrity, thinking to himself "Now we shall have tea, to a certainty."
The servant man made his entrance: and (to the utter dismay of our hero) he handed round a waiter set out with diminutive glasses of weak sour lemonade, and a silver basket half filled up with a large thickly folded damask napin, upholding some very small thin slices of stale tasteless sponge cake.
"Is this the surprise she promised me" thought Woodbridge almost betrayed into an audible exclamation.
But he checked himself, and with heightened color proceeded to do the honors of the banquet, imagining (and it was not altogether "fancy's sketch") that he perceived a look of disappointment in the countenances of the whole company, none of whom had taken tea at home, having all understood that Mrs. Woodbridge's invitation included that refreshment. His wife, however, smiled on; and assured the ladies that they would not find the lemonade too strong, and that if any cake could be considered wholesome, it was sponge−cake eaten in moderation.
The remainder of the evening dragged on still more heavily than the former; Woodbridge being too much annoyed either to talk himself or to be the cause of talking in others; and also watching anxiously, but vainly, for the appearance of something else in the way of refreshments. It was scarcely ten o'clock when one of the married ladies signified to Mrs. Woodbridge that she must go home on account of her baby. All the other guests seemed eager to avail themselves of the first system of breaking up, and hastened to take their leaves; their hostess assuring them that it was quite early: that she had not enjoyed one half enough of their company: that she hoped they had spent as pleasant an evening as she had done: and that she trusted it would not be long before they repeated their visit, and that they might rely on being always treated in the same unceremonious manner. "You had better not put that in" thought her husband, as he glanced at her with ill−concealed disapprobation.
PART II.
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Mr. and Mrs. Woodbridge
When all the company had departed, and the husband and wife were left to themselves, our hero (making an effort to throw as much mildness into his tone as possible) inquired why there had been no tea for the visitors.
"Because I did not choose to go to any unnecessary trouble and expense" was the reply:
"You went round yourself," said Woodbridge "and gave the invitations verbally. Of course you asked them to come to tea."
"There is no òf course' in the case. I do not remember saying any thing to them about tea. Perhaps I did, and perhaps I did not. None of ma's friends ever gave tea, whether the company was large or small. And Mrs.
Pinchington told me herself that when she kept house she always expressly asked her friends to come after tea. I wish I had done so, and then these people would not have expected any."
"But why should they not expect any? At their own houses they on all occasions have tea. Is tea and its appendages so enormously expensive that we cannot afford to give them to our friends?"
"I am always at a loss to know what you can afford, and what you cannot. When after a great deal of trouble I had made you understand what blond was, did you not object to my giving eight dollars a yard for seven yards of blond trimming to go round the skirt of that gros d'Afrique I had made for Mrs. Hillingdon's ball. To be sure I did get the blond notwithstanding; and it was not my fault if it caught in the flowers of Miss Wireblossoms skirt and was half torn to pieces that very evening. Then when I fell in love with that superb gold card−case at Thibault's did you not meanly refuse to let me have it, merely because you had given me a silver one already. And now when I try as much as I can to economise in things that are of no consequence you are displeased at my not giving tea to these people, as if they could not just as well have all drank their tea at home."
"Undoubtedly they would have done so, had it been possible for them to foresee that they would get none at our house. Did you not invite them to come at an early hour?"
"Yes but I did not suppose they would be so simple as to take me at my word. And I asked them to come socially, just to meet half a dozen friends. Therefore they need not have expected any thing."
"Socially! Yes, we were all very social indeed. The truth is that persons accustomed to the refreshment of tea, feel the want of it in the evening after the fatigues of the day are over. And if they chance to go without it, they always miss its exhilirating effects. I wonder you did not want it yourself."
"Oh! I am not such a fool as to let my vivacity depend on a cup of tea. Besides, I had some made for myself, and I drank it in the sitting room before I came down. When I had done, the pot was filled up with water, and left by the fire I dare say it is there yet, and if you are in distress for tea, you can get some of that. For my part I am very sleepy, and very tired of all this nonsense, and I will not hear another word on the subject. But I can assure you this is the last time you shall ever prevail on me to invite evening visitors. If my society is not good enough for you, I shall not assist in bringing other people here to entertain you."
So saying, she flounced up stairs, and her husband sighed, and went out to a restaurant in quest of something by way of refreshment: experience having taught him that nothing was to be had in the house. The lovely Charlotte did not speak to him all next day, and gave no token of her knowledge that he was in existence, except that she contrived for dinner something that she knew he particularly disliked. Finally, he was fain to bribe her into good humor by the gift of a turquoise ring.
Time passed on, and Harvey Woodbridge became sadly apprehensive that for him the bonds of married life would never be "golden chains inlaid with down." As his mental vision cleared, the beautiful Charlotte PART II.
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Mr. and Mrs. Woodbridge
Augusta seemed every day to grow less and less beautiful. And too often his recollection dwelt on some favorite adages of his grandmother, such as "Handsome is that handsome does" and "Marry in haste and repent at leisure."
No home could be more cheerless than that of our hero; notwithstanding that his wife piqued herself greatly on her domestic qualifications, after the pattern of her ma'. But her housewifery co
nsisted only in the perpetual practice of a mean, sordid, and annoying parsimony, carried into the most minute details of every thing connected with comfort. While at the same time there were no limits to her extravagance in all that related to the adornment of her own person. And her passion for dress, increasing by indulgence, soon superceded even her love for fine parlor furniture; taking care only to preserve what they had already by using it as little as possible. Till they learn by experience, men have a very faint idea of the sums that can be expended on the external decorations of a woman who is resolved on being the first to adopt every new fashion, and the first to throw it aside for another, and who takes a silly pride not only in the costliness but in the number of her dresses. As Mrs. Woodbridge never gave any thing away, a spare room (or rather a room which could not be spared, and ought to have been appropriated to a better use) was filled with receptacles for her discarded finery: discarded in many instances after having been worn but two or three times.
With the usual selfishness and folly of women whose ruling passion is a love of dress, our heroine seemed to think that almost every cent expended for any other purpose was taken wrongfully from the fund which ought to be devoted exclusively to the adornment of her own person. Now that her parlors were furnished, she appeared to consider all expenditure for the comfort or convenience of the establishment as an encroachment on her selfassumed right to be indulged in every new and costly vanity that fashion and ostentation was continually introducing into female attire. Yet though her milliner and mantua−maker were the most modish, and therefore the most extravagant in their charges that Philadelphia could support, if she wanted any other sort of work to be executed she would walk to the most distant suburbs of the city in all the torture of tight shoes, to make a hard bargain with a cheap seamstress; or she would absurdly hire a carriage for the purpose of conveying her to cheap (or rather low−priced) stores in remote places: where, by Mrs. Pinchington's account, she could buy articles of household necessity at a cent or two less than in the best part of the town.