In charity Mrs. Woodbridge gave nothing. When her feelings sometimes prompted her to afford relief in a case of severe distress that chanced to fall in her way, her hand was stayed by some such reflection as that a quarter of a dollar would buy her a yard of ribbon, or a half dollar the same quantity of narrow edging: that seventy−five cents would pay for a pair of white kid gloves, and that a dollar would purchase a flower sprig.
Therefore the money remained in her purse to be expended in some article of similar utility to the above.
A book was one of the last things she would have thought of purchasing for herself; and she even looked displeased whenever her husband bought a new one for his own reading; and wondered what people that had the Athenæum to go to, and also a share in the City Library, could possibly want with any more books.
As is usually the case in families where the practice is ultra economy our heroine was always in difficulties about servants, some of whom left her or were dismissed by her in two or three days: and few that were worth having remained more than a week, for good servants can easily obtain good places. She usually began her daily routine by keeping her husband waiting an hour or more beyond the appointed breakfast time, for it was always a difficult task to her to get up in the morning, and it was deferred and delayed as if it could be dispensed with altogether. On this subject no remonstrance on the part of her husband ever made the slightest impression; her pretence being that early rising was injurious to her health. And if he resorted to the desperate measure of eating his breakfast without her, he was punished by her not speaking to him for the remainder of the day. When breakfast was over, Mrs. Woodbridge devoted an hour to scolding the servants, and five minutes to arranging her scheme of parsimony for that day. This she called superintending her household affairs. Then, having taken off her wrapper, and spent two hours in making a very recherche toilette, she issued forth in a superb dress−bonnet, with every thing to match, and passed the remainder of the morning in PART II.
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Mr. and Mrs. Woodbridge
costly visits to the fashionable shops, and to the fashionable milliners and mantua−makers; and in leaving cards at the doors of such of her acquaintances as lived in handsome houses, and dressed expensively. The only persons with whom, on making her calls, she desired an interview, were her cronies Mesdames Squanderfield and Pinchington. Friends she had none.
About three o'clock Mrs. Woodbridge went home and undressed for dinner, which in her house was always a paltry and uninviting repast: such as her husband would have been really ashamed of if seen, and which it was certainly politic to serve up in the privacy of the little dining−room. As it was, he thought that at his own table he never felt exactly like a gentlemen; and his genteel feelings were brought still lower at times when for a day or two he found his house without a single domestic: a condition to which a menage of this description is not unfrequently reduced. Indeed, their servants very often left them on account of the scanty supply of kitchen utensils, averring that they were not allowed things to do their work with.
Of afternoons, the fair Charlotte, continuing in her dishabille, and establishing herself permanently up stairs for the remainder of the day, pursued her worsted work for a while, and then took a nap till tea−time, and another after tea, while her husband went to the Exchange to read the news by the eastern mail. During the remainder of the evening, by the glare of a small, low, shadeless lamp, she made herself an occupation with a bit of trifling and useless sewing, interrupting him every few minutes with some querulous remark if he was reading to himself, and falling into a doze if he was reading aloud. About nine o'clock, (and sometimes before) she always began to be very fidgety on the subject of having the lights and fires extinguished, the house shut up, and preparations made by all within it to go to bed with the utmost dispatch: implying that she saw no use in wasting fuel and oil any longer; and always worrying without ceasing till she had carried her point of a general retirement at an unseasonably early hour.
If a gentleman called in the evening to see Mr. Woodbridge, the parlor fire had gone out, no lamp had been lighted there, and all below was gloomy and cheerless. It was a formidable undertaking to clear out the grate and rekindle the fire, and to make an astral lamp burn which was not in order for want of being in nightly use; and our aggrieved hero soon found that of the two evils, the least was to entertain his friends in the ever obnoxious dining−room: Mrs Woodbridge, to avoid being caught in dishabille, always taking flight to her own chamber before the guest could find his way up stairs. Under these circumstances, it was not surprising that their house was soon relieved from the inconvenience of visiters, and that the husband and wife were left to the full enjoyment of each other's society; except when he occasionally indulged himself by going to the Athenæum for an evening of quiet reading in a well−warmed and well−lighted room: even though sure to incur the penalty of finding his lady speechless all the next day.
Mrs. Stapleford had several times volunteered to quit for a while the delights of her beloved New York, and make a visit to her daughter even in Philadelphia; but was always put off with some trifling excuse from our heroine. Mrs. Woodbridge was well aware that notwithstanding the close parsimony that prevailed in the paternal (or rather maternal) mansion, her mother, when a guest at the house of another person, was greatly displeased if all things were not conducted on the most liberal scale.
Finally, however, Mrs. Stapleford was allowed to come. She disappointed her daughter by not admiring sufficiently the handsome parlor furniture which (on inquiring the prices of all the articles) she took much pains to prove could have been purchased far better and infinitely lower in New York. In return, Mrs.
Woodbridge resolved to make no alteration in her domestic arrangements during the visit of her mother; saying when any thing was unusually mean or comfortless "You see, ma', I keep house exactly on your plan." And indeed she rather outdid her pattern.
Mrs. Stapleford sometimes hinted a desire that this strict adherence to her plan might be dispensed with, but her dutiful daughter would make no improvement, and endeavored to persuade her mother that, in Philadelphia, servants and all other things were far worse, and more difficult to procure than in New York.
PART II.
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Mr. and Mrs. Woodbridge
Woodbridge was annoyed, ashamed, and angry nearly the whole time. The visit was by no means a satisfactory one to any of the parties: and Mrs. Stapleford, instead of remaining a month (as she had at first intended) stayed but a week; alledging that she was obliged to hurry back to New York that she might not lose Mrs. Legion's grand annual ball, for which there were never less than six hundred invitations sent out.
Each of the two brothers of our heroine came at different times on business to Philadelphia, but wisely stayed at a hotel. Both were invited to take a family dinner at their sister's house: she assuring them that they need not expect any thing more than she would have had for her husband and herself"As you know" said she"that one never stands on ceremony with one's brothers." This entire absence of ceremony was indeed so very apparent that the young Staplefords concluded for the future, not to forego an excellent dinner at an excellent hotel for the scanty and unpalatable repast provided by their sister.
On the first of these occasions, our hero bore his vexation in silence; on the second he expostulated with his wife when they were alone in the evening. But she replied that the dinner was quite as good as any they ever had in ma's house, and just such as her brothers were used to at home; adding "Harvey Woodbridge, I wonder you are not tired of continually trying to make me change my plans. What reason have you to suppose me one of those trifling, weak−minded persons that can be persuaded to any thing? No from my earliest childhood I was always distinguished for firmness of character. I remember when only five years old, because pa' bought me a doll for a Christmas gift, when he knew I wanted a pearl ring, I held out for a whole week; and all that time I would neither play with the doll or
even look at it, nor kiss pa' at bidding good night.
So that on New Year's day he was glad to get the pearl ring for me, as ma' had been advising him all the while. No no have you yet to learn that firmness is my forte?"
"That obstinacy is, I have learnt most thoroughly" replied her husband "and that united with your other fortes is fast wearing away the peace of my life. You really seem to be trying your utmost to make my home irksome to me."
"Then you will have the more excuse for spending your evenings at your beloved Athen æum. You had better go there now."
"I will take you at your word" replied Woodbridge, rising to depart.
"Harvey" said his wife, as he was about to leave the room "as you have to pass Mustin's in your way, you may as well take this bit of brown worsted and try and match it for me I can't go on with my work to−morrow, till I get some more of it."
"Confound the worsted!" exclaimed her husband, turning angrily away from her.
And as he hastily shut the door and precipitately ran down stairs, she struck up melodiously the refrain of
"Sweet sweet home."
PART III.
During a slight access of graciousness (purchased by the gift of a diamond ring) Harvey Woodbridge prevailed on his consort to engage a cook that had lived a long time in his father's family; and also to take a waiter that had been for many years a servant to the brother of our hero, a gentleman residing in Baltimore.
Both these domestics were excellent in their way, and (as far as permitted by what Mrs. Woodbridge called her plans) they performed their duties well. Her husband now thought that he would avail himself of the convenience of having a very good cook and a very good waiter, and invite some gentlemen to dine with him: trusting that the displeasure he had evinced on the occasion of the evening visiters, &c., would operate as a PART III.
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Mr. and Mrs. Woodbridge
warning to his wife and induce her to make a proper provision for the dinner party.
But the dinner party, as soon as he ventured to propose it, met a decided disapproval from the lady, who said she did not see the use of a parcel of men dining together, and that if money must be spent, there were better ways of spending it: and that she fully expected she should have to live all her life without an India shawl.
Her husband being very anxious to carry his point, reminded her that they had not yet had an opportunity of displaying their fine French china dinner set and other elegances appertaining. And then he called her Charlotte Augusta, and assured her that a pretty woman always looked peculiary well presiding at her own table, and doing the honors to a company of gentlemen.
At length, after much assenting and dissenting, and agreeing with a bad grace and disagreeing with no grace at all, the dinner was finally undertaken, and fixed for the following Thursday. Interviews between Mrs.
Woodbridge and Mrs. Pinchington commenced forthwith.
In the mean time, as the appointed day drew near, our hero had frequent and increasing misgivings, and at last ventured to question his wife: concerning her preparations.
"You need not be afraid to leave every thing to me" replied Charlotte pa' often had gentlemen to dine with him (much as it annoyed ma') so I know very well what arrangements to make. And I have very good advices, besides my natural judgment. Even if I were incapable of preparing for dinner company, men have no business to be cot−betties."
"What is a cot−betty?" asked her husband.
"I wish you were as ignorant of the character as you are of the name" replied the lady sharply. "A cot−betty is what ma' used to call pa.' A man that meddles with house affairs, and undertakes to advise his wife about her domestic concerns; instead of sticking to his store or his office (or whatever place he goes to) and giving his whole attention to providing the money for his family expenses, as all men ought."
Harvey Woodbridge did not like to be classed among the cot−betties; though, as young ladies are now brought up, a capable cot−betty may prove a very valuable husband. Therefore, he, after this, held his peace with respect to the dinner−party: which forbearance he was only enabled to exercise by closing his eyes, ears, and understanding against much that he saw, heard, and suspected.
At length the eventful afternoon arrived, and Mr. Woodbridge left his store at an early hour, and repaired to his dwelling−house to be ready for the reception of his guests. To his surprise he found that no table had been set in the back−parlor. This was a thing he could not on this occasion have anticipated: and hastily running up stairs, he found it laid in the more−than−ever obnoxious little dining−room, which looked even smaller and meaner than usual. His vexation was intense, and hastening to the apartment of his wife, whom he found at her toilette. "How is this" said he "I had not the most distant idea of the dinner−table being set to−day in any other place than the back−parlor. That vile little room will not do at all. It is too small, too narrow, and the ceiling is too low."
"I did not expect we were to dine on the ceiling" replied Mrs. Woodbridge. But this attempt at a witticism did not succeed; and her husband plainly expressed his displeasure at finding that his friends were to be entertained in what he called in his anger "that abominable hole."
"It is neither a hole nor abominable" answered the lady "but a nice comfortable apartment. And you pay me a great compliment by talking of it in that outrageous manner, when you know it is my pet place, where you have spent so many happy hours in my society."
PART III.
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Mr. and Mrs. Woodbridge
"Fudge!" exclaimed Woodbridge, turning away from her, completely out of patience.
"If domestic happiness is fudge" resumed his wife "I shall be sorry enough for having quitted ma', and left my own city to go away to a new place and live with a strange man."
"It is true" said her husband, with a sort of sigh "we were almost strangers to each other when we married."
"And all this fuss" pursued Charlotte "is about dining in a dining−room, as if it was not always the most proper place. Do not we continually read of dining−rooms in the English fashionable novels. The very lords and ladies do not dine in their parlors or drawing−rooms even when they have company."
"The dining−rooms of the English gentry" replied Woodbridge "are very different apartments from that paltry little place of ours. I have no objection to a dining−room, provided that it is commodious and pleasant, and that it has an air of gentility as well as convenience. But I cannot endure the idea of making my guests eat their dinner in the worst apartment of my house, though I have yielded to the infliction myself."
"And I" said Mrs. Woodbridge "cannot endure the idea of having our parlor furniture greased or stained or injured in any way, even by one single dinner. Never supposing such a thing would be wanted, I did not get a parlor crumbcloth, and the one we have up stairs is too small to save any other carpet than that of the dining−room."
"And is this the reason you have set so small a table. Worse than all, my friends will not have elbow−room."
"I never saw a man yet"replied Charlotte "who would not somehow or other manage to convey his dinner to his mouth. When a large table is set, there must be a great deal to cover it: and it is not my way to provide more than is necessary. I know very well how ma' managed when pa' would have dinner company. And besides I have consulted Mrs. Pinchington. She was so kind as to accompany me to market yesterday."
"Surely on this occasion" said Woodbridge, with a look of alarm "you are not going to mortify me before my friends with the sight of a mean and scanty dinner."
"There will be dinner enough" replied his wife coolly "and even if there should not, (as I heard a man say in a play,) nobody calls for more at another persons table. The fact is, I so hate extravagance that, as I have often told you it is really a pleasure to me to save in every little thing as much as I can."
And she finished adjusting before a glass, a new laced pelerine that she had bought the day before and which Mrs. Squa
nderfield assured her was cheap at forty dollars.
"You Philadelphians" she added "think there can never be too much on the table, and I am told that the further south the worse."
"Two of my guests are southern gentlemen" said Woodbridge "and I am convinced that all who dine with me to−day have been accustomed tòsit at good men's feasts.' "
"Harvey" said his wife "do not make me uncomfortable, or I won't come to table. I feel very much like hysterics already. I have been annoyed enough with Phillis this morning."
"Phillis, who was brought up by my mother" exclaimed Woodbridge "there cannot be a more excellent cook."
PART III.
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Mr. and Mrs. Woodbridge
"Rather too excellent for me" replied Charlotte, "I have been thinking for some time of parting with her.
Mrs. Pinchington tells me (and I have found it so myself,) that it is cheapest to keep cooks that are not considered very good. And as to particularity about food, it is a thing I am not going to encourage. Ma' never did. Phillis is the last professed cook I shall ever be troubled with. This morning she was so vexed at my not having things as extravagant as she thought proper, that she said something that made me angry, and I packed her out of the house. So then I had to coax Mary to get the dinner."
"What, Mary the raw Irish girl the chamber−maid. Surely she knows nothing about cooking. It would have been better at once to have sent out and hired a professed cook for the day."
"So Cæsar had the assurance to tell me, and he did prevail on me to let him go for an aunt of his, who goes out cooking at what she calls a low price, a dollar a day. But, as Phillis had already made a begining, I was determined not to give more than sixty−two cents, so we could not agree; though at the last I did offer her seventy−five. As for my giving a dollar for cooking one dinner, it was quite out of the question: so there was nothing to be done but to set Mary about it."
Mr. And Mrs. Woodbridge Page 4
