Mr. And Mrs. Woodbridge

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Mr. And Mrs. Woodbridge Page 7

by Harriet Beecher Stowe


  "There" said he, throwing himself into a chair "you see what I have come to, I, your father−in−law, and her father. Have you not heard it? Don't you know it? I am a drunkard now I am I am. It is a shameful, dreadful vice. It came upon me by slow degrees; but it has come, and every body knows it: you see it in my PART IV.

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  face, don't you? Look at me, look, I bear about me the unfailing signs, you know I do."

  They looked at him: it was too true. There was that redness in his face which never can be mistaken for the honest glow of health.

  "Do you know what has made me a drunkard?" resumed Mr. Stapleford "A bad wife. A wife may be bad, and yet she may neither play cards nor tipple, nor betray the honor of her husband. But she may destroy his peace, she may undermine his happiness, she may wear out his love by the everlasting rubbing of petty annoyances. I have read (for I once did read) that one of the severest tortures inflicted by the Romish Inquisition, was a contrivance which caused water to fall unceasingly, day after day, week after week, month after month, in single drops, one at a time, upon the head of the miserable captive. I too, have had my drops, and I know what I have suffered from them. And she that selfishly and heartlessly inflicted that suffering was my wife, your mother Charlotte, and I fear that you are indeed her true daughter."

  "Dear pa"' said Charlotte "pray don't talk so dreadfully, and, above all, before Harvey."

  "I will, I will" exclaimed her father, "and before Harvey, above all, will I do it. Let him take warning, for I know that he needs the lesson. Do not exchange glances at each other, I am not intoxicated yet, I am quite sober still, and I know exactly what I am saying. But while I can yet do so, (for now I have begun with the poison I must keep on) I will tell you what I heard in the Delaware boat to−day. There were two women taken on board, (ladies I suppose I must call them.) I chanced to sit where I overheard their conversation, and I could not help listening, when my ear was struck with your name, and I found they were talking about my daughter. Perhaps it was dishonorable to sit and listen; but I am not an honorable man now; I do things every day that once I would have shuddered at. I found that these women knew you well."

  "Mrs. Squanderfield and Mrs. Pinchington, I suppose" said Woodbridge, turning to his wife.

  "Yes" continued Mr. Stapleford "those were their names. One of them had been at a dinner−party, here, in this little room; and she detailed it all to her companion, broadly and coarsely enough, but still I knew that, in the main, her statement was true. She described and ridiculed the paltry, contemptible dinner, and its wretched arrangements; and Woodbridge's ill−concealed effort to repress his shame and mortification. Then as one of these women talked about your meanness, the other discussed your extravagance: and told of the money you were continually throwing away in useless finery for the decoration of your own person, while you denied your husband the comforts which every gentleman has a right in his own house to expect, if he can furnish the means of procuring them. I listened to their talk, and I understood it all, I felt it all, for I knew by sad experience what it was."

  "Is it possible," said Charlotte, with quivering lips, "that Mrs. Squanderfield and Mrs. Pinchington could have talked of me in that manner and in a public steam−boat, too!"

  "They were your friends, Charlotte" said her husband, "your dearest, best, your only friends; your aiders and abettors in the practice of your two besetting sins."

  "The vile, false, wicked creatures" exclaimed Mrs. Woodbridge I will never speak to them again."

  "I am delighted to hear it" said Woodbridge "and earnestly do I hope you will keep that resolution."

  "Listen to me, Charlotte" said Mr. Stapleford, trying to speak with more composure "Listen to me, also, Harvey Woodbridge, and may both of you profit by the lesson. I married Mary Holman when we were both very young. I was then a clerk in a merchant's counting−house, she was the daughter of a poor clergyman.

  Her beauty first attracted me, and I thought she had been well brought up. Necessity had obliged the family to PART IV.

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  be notable and industrious, and to economize in superfluities. Her mother often told me of Mary's talent of housewifery, and of her ingenuity with her needle, and how clever she was in the art of making a genteel appearance at a small expense. I thought I had drawn a prize in the lottery of marriage, and I loved her with my whole heart. We took possession of a small plainly−furnished two story house in a remote street, and I thought we might live respectably and comfortably with my salary. I soon discovered my wife's innate passion for dress, which in her father's house, she had been unable to indulge. But now that she was a married woman, and emancipated from the control of her parents, she seemed resolved to run her course as she chose.

  In a very short time, I found a great falling off in every thing connected with household comforts, and a corresponding increase in the finery of my wife's attire. I saw her in silks, and laces, and feathers, and flowers; all being such as were worn by ladies whose husbands had five times my income. But our servant woman (we could keep but one) was dismissed for a half grown girl, at half wages. These girls (we had a succession of them) were changed at least every month, as most of them were found to be worthless, idle, dirty, or dishonest; and all were incapable of doing work. If by chance we obtained a good one, she would not stay above a week in a house where she had to work hard and fare badly, for low wages. Often, when at our late dining hour I came home tired and hungry, I found no dinner and when, after waiting an hour or two, the repast was at last produced, it was scanty, poor, and unpalatable. My wife had been out nearly all day, visiting, shopping, and going after mantua−makers. When our dinners was unusually late, she said it would save the trouble and expense of tea, so she went early to bed, and obliged her girl to do the same by way of saving fire and light in the kitchen; and I passed the evening alone in our cheerless parlor, laboriously engaged in extra book−keeping, or some other such job, which I was glad to undertake for the purpose of obtaining a little addition to our income, and which frequently occupied me till midnight. I had hoped by this means to gain some improvement in our way of living. But I found it only encouraged my wife to run up bills for finery, which she knew I would be obliged eventually to pay for. Vain, selfish woman, at what sacrifices was her trumpery obtained? For the price of one or two of her expensive dresses we could have kept a grown servant a whole year. One French bonnet less, and we could have had good fires all winter, and the cost of one of her embroidered muslin collars would have furnished me every evening with a better light to toil by.

  "After a while I obtained another situation at a higher salary. I then proposed allowing a certain sum weekly for the household expenses alone and I made this allowance as ample as I could. It was in vain she pinched off so much of this money for additional finery, that we lived as badly as ever. At length, the death of my uncle James put me in possession of sufficient property to enable me to emancipate myself from the drudgery of clerkship, and to commence business on my own account. I did so, and was soon considered a prosperous man.

  "From the time that I went into business there were no bounds to my wife's extravagance that is, in articles of show. But in all that regarded comfort and convenience, her penurious habits remained unchanged and so they always will. In a few years we had a handsome house, and she furnished the parlors elegantly but she made us take all our meals in a little, low, cheerless room in the basement story; and in fact, it became our chief abiding place. How I despised it, and how long I held out against it!"

  "I wonder you submitted at all" said Woodbridge.

  "I submitted to that, and to all the other proceedings of my wife, because I found resistance was in vain as it always must be with a heartless, selfish, obstinate woman. Often, after the fatigues of the day, I was too tired to undertake the trouble of altercation. Nothing then seemed so desirable as peace and quiet, and, for the sake of pre
sent peace, I let the evil grow till it darkened my whole life with its baleful shadow. Naturally my disposition is cheerful, and as I could not be quarrelling for ever, I sometimes tried to laugh at the inconvenience and mortifications to which my wife continually subjected me. But it would not do the iron, notwithstanding, had entered my soul and was fast corroding it. My affection for my wife was at last worn out. How could I love her, when I had daily proof that she had no regard for me? It was still worse when I was left alone with her after Charlotte was married and gone, and my son Frank went to live in New PART IV.

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  Orleans. To James and myself our home was more than ever uncomfortable, for she allowed us no society; indeed, things were so managed that we became ashamed to invite any one to the house. Jem could endure it no longer so he took lodgings at a hotel, where he is drinking wine every day, and going to destruction. For myself, I became reckless desperate. I had long ceased to remonstrate with my wife on the sums she expended in dress but I had grown very tired of the petty squabbling about fires, and lights, and food, and servants, and all other necessary expenses, which for five−and−twenty years had embittered my married life.

  I hated my home and I was driven to seek elsewhere for peace and comfort; such, at least, as I could get in houses of public resort. I took my meals at restaurants and hotels I frequented oyster−cellars I joined a club. Gradually the vice of intemperance came upon me wine was not enough, I took brandy also. I drank to raise my spirits, and to drown the sense of degradation that always oppressed me when I was sober. My wife did not care she dressed more than ever, and went almost every night to a party making me come for her when I was not fit to be seen and thus exposing me to her `dear five hundred friends,' when it was she, herself, that made me what I am. I shall grow worse I shall be seen reeling through the streets, with the boys hooting after me I shall be taken up out of the gutter, and laid dead drunk on my own door step. I know I shall I see it all before me yet, when it comes to that, and my children hear of it, let them remember it is the fault of their mother. Look what she has made of me and what my wife's daughter is going to make of her husband She knows how wretchedly we lived she knows how all domestic happiness was worried away from her father's house and still she has been walking fast in her mother's footsteps.

  Charlotte Charlotte do you not tremble?"

  Charlotte did tremble and pale and terrified she threw herself into the arms of her husband, hid her face on his shoulder, and burst into a flood of tears. Woodbridge also was deeply affected. But he saw at that moment a dawn of hope and he hailed this first indication of feeling on the part of his wayward wife as an omen of reform and happiness.

  "I am glad to see you cry" said the old man after a pause. "I have never seen my wife shed a tear, except when a splendid dress has been spoiled by the mantua−maker. I begin to hope that the daughter may be better than the mother."

  "Dear sir," said Woodbridge, "do not persist in speaking so harsly of your wife."

  "I will I will" exclaimed the old man swallowing the remainder of the brandy and water. "Has she not embittered my life, and turned to gall the love I once felt for her. What has Mary Stapleford ever done to make me happy? Has she ever cared for me why then should I care for her? Has she ever regarded my tastes, my wishes? Why then should I have any respect for hers? And now I am a drunkard disreputable, despised looked at askance by respectable men, (I was once a respectable man myself,) obliged to associate now with those that have degraded themselves as I have done. And my wife has caused it all. She has made me wretched, and she has brought up her daughter to make you so too."

  Mrs. Woodbridge now threw herself on the sofa, buried her face in one of the cushions, and sobbed aloud: and, on her husband approaching, she motioned him to leave her to herself. Woodbridge, after removing the brandy, prevailed on his father−in−law, (who had sunk back in his chair, and thrown his handkerchief over his face) to go to the spare chamber, and lie down and repose himself: and Charlotte in a faint voice said, she would also retire to her room. As she passed her husband she caught his hand and pressed it fervently: but her eyes again overflowed, and she was unable to speak.

  "Dear sir" said Woodbridge "do not persist in speaking so harshly of your wife."

  Woodbridge having ascertained that the sparechamber was in order, conducted Mr. Stapleford to its door, now thought it best to leave his wife awhile to the retirement of her own apartment. He then repaired to his store, where he recollected his presence at this time was particularly essential; and he endeavored, but in vain, PART IV.

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  to occupy his mind with business during the short remainder of the day.

  When he came home in the evening, he found that Mr. Stapleford, having requested that some tea might be brought to him, had gone to bed for the night, and was now asleep. Charlotte remained also in her room, and at her desire the tea−table had been set for her husband alone. After he had somewhat refreshed himself with a cup of tea, he went up to see her. He found her lying on the bed, and looking very pale and dejected.

  "Harvey" said she "don't talk to me to−night I shall feel better in the morning I know all you would say. I have indeed made you a very bad wife I acknowledge and regret it: my eyes are opened at last, and I will try to do better in future. But I am so shocked at my father, to see him as he is now, and to hear all he thinks and feels, and all that he fears. Oh! no no you shall never be brought to his condition by me.

  Indeed, indeed you never shall. It is too dreadful. But leave me now, dear Harvey, and when I deserve it, I will beg you to forgive me all."

  In compassion to the distress of her feelings, Woodbridge quitted the room in silence. He passed the evening alone, in perturbed meditation; hope for the future and regret for the past, alternately casting their lights and shadows on his mind. But, the sunbeam of hope rested there at last.

  Our heroine passed a restless night of bitter retrospection, and silent tears. Towards morning, she had wept herself into an uneasy slumber. Woodbridge rose with the dawn, resolved to try and compose himself by an early walk, his usual remedy after an extraordinary excitement. On descending the stairs, he overtook his father−in−law who had risen for the same purpose. They walked together as far as the Schuylkill, and had much conversation on the subject that was upper−most in both their minds.

  When the two gentlemen returned, they were met in the entry by Cæsar, who, while his face shone with smiles, stopped them as they were proceeding to the staircase, and with a flourish of his hand as he threw open the door, said to Mr. Woodbridge, "We breakfast in the back parlor sir."

  They found the table nicely set out with a better breakfast than either of the gentlemen had ever seen in their own house: and Cæsar said, with increasing smiles, "Mrs. Woodbridge was up early, sir. She came down soon after you went out. And we have been to market already. And after we came home, I got the breakfast myself, and would not let Irish Mary put her paws to any thing. Mrs. Woodbridge has given Mary a short warning, and I am to get Phillis to come back, for our everlasting cook. Please to excuse my saying paws: but that Paddy woman is enough to make the genteelest colored gentleman forget himself. People of the best polishment can't be decoromous when they have to deal with Irish."

  At these excellent signs of the times, our hero's smile became almost as bright as Cæsar's. And Mr. Stapleford said, in a low voice to Woodbridge, "I was just going to ask for my early dram, but I believe I will not take any this morning."

  "I have made the coffee very good and strong" said Cæsar, "Mrs. Woodbridge told me to do so. And we bought the best butter that was to be had in market; and we took cream this morning instead of milk."

  At this moment the lady of the house appeared. Her father and her husband kissed her as they bade her good morning. Her heart and eyes filled and she held her handkerchief to her face, while each the gentlemen turned to a window and seemed to look o
ut. There were a few minutes of silence: after which our heroine took a seat at the table, and Woodbridge and Mr. Stapleford did the same. Cæsar entered with a damask napkin and a silver salver, and waited on the table con amore. Woodbridge introduced a cheerful conversation, and though he had to sustain it himself, he was repaid by an occasional smile from Charlotte, and a laugh from her father.

  When breakfast was over, and Mrs. Woodbridge had left the room, Mr. Stapleford said to his son−in−law,

  "She is touched at last. She is going to set about a reform I only hope she will stay reformed. Ah! there is PART IV.

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  no touching her mother. I have tried often to work on her feelings: but she has none. Vanity, sordidness, and selfishness have hardened her heart till it is likèthe nether millstone.' But Charlotte is not so bad; and I trust she will do well yet. I must have a bottle more than usual to−day at dinner, in celebration of this joyful change."

  "Rather celebrate it," said Woodbridge, "by a day of entire temperance."

  "Ah!" replied Stapleford, "that is easier said than done. I am ashamed to confess that a day of temperance will be a day of suffering to me. The habit of drinking once formed, the craving once acquired, it is hard indeed to abstain. A drunkard is not easily cured."

  "Let me beg of you, dear sir," said Woodbridge, "not to give yourself that detestable appellation."

  "Do I not deserve it?" replied Stapleford. "Am I not really what I call myself? But she made me so. I know that many men who are blest with excellent and affectionate wives have become sots notwithstanding to their eternal shame be it spoken. But that was not my disposition. No man was more capable of enjoying domestic happiness if it had been allowed me. However, I cannot trust myself on this theme. So let it drop for the present."

  Mr. Stapleford and his son−in−law went out together, but parted at the corner: each going his own way to his respective business. That morning Mrs. Woodbridge did no shopping or visiting, but busied herself at home in improving her menage. Irish Mary, being dismissed, was loud in her vociferations at parting, asserting that she had never seen a raal lady or gentleman since she came to Philadelphia, and that she would never more darken the doors of a Philadelphia house: for she knew scores of places in New York where they would jump out of their skins for joy to get her back again, and where the silver would come pouring into her lap. A week's wages extra, however, somewhat quieted her wrath: but on leaving the presence of Mrs. Woodbridge, she slammed the door, and exclaimed as soon as she got into the entry, "Bad luck to ye any how, and I wish to the holy Patrick ye may never have nobody but black nagurs to cook your bit of victuals for you."

 

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