Mrs. Caudle's Curtain Lectures Part 14

"Oh, Caudle, what an aggravating man you are!

"I suppose you'll say next I made you invite Miss Prettyman? Oh yes; don't tell me that her brother brought her without you knowing it.

What?

"DIDN'T I HEAR HIM SAY SO?

"Of course I did; but do you suppose I'm quite a fool? Do you think I don't know that that was all settled between you? And she must be a nice person to come unasked to a woman's house? But I know why she came. Oh yes; she came to look about her.

"Oh, the meaning's plain enough.--She came to see how she should like the rooms--how she should like my seat at the fireplace; how she--and if it isn't enough to break a mother's heart to be treated so!--how she should like my dear children.

"Now, it's no use your bouncing about at--but of course that's it; I can't mention Miss Prettyman but you fling about as if you were in a fit. Of course that shows there's something in it. Otherwise, why should you disturb yourself? Do you think I didn't see her looking at the ciphers on the spoons as if she already saw mine scratched out and hers there? No, I sha'n't drive you mad, Mr. Caudle; and if I do it's your own fault. No other man would treat the wife of his bosom in--What do you say?

"YOU MIGHT AS WELL HAVE MARRIED A HEDGEHOG?

"Well, now it's come to something! But it's always the case!

Whenever you've seen that Miss Prettyman, I'm sure to be abused. A hedgehog! A pretty thing for a woman to be called by her husband!

Now you don't think I'll lie quietly in bed, and be called a hedgehog--do you, Mr. Caudle?

"Well, I only hope Miss Prettyman had a good dinner, that's all. I had none! You know I had none--how was I to get any? You know that the only part of the turkey I care for is the merry-thought. And that, of course, went to Miss Prettyman. Oh, I saw you laugh when you put it on her plate! And you don't suppose, after such an insult as that, I'd taste another thing upon the table? No, I should hope I have more spirit than that. Yes; and you took wine with her four times. What do you say?

"ONLY TWICE?

"Oh, you were so lost--fascinated, Mr. Caudle; yes, fascinated--that you didn't know what you did. However, I do think while I'm alive I might be treated with respect at my own table. I say, while I'm alive; for I know I sha'n't last long, and then Miss Prettyman may come and take it all. I'm wasting daily, and no wonder. I never say anything about it, but every week my gowns are taken in.

"I've lived to learn something, to be sure! Miss Prettyman turned up her nose at my custards. It isn't sufficient that you are always finding fault yourself, but you must bring women home to sneer at me at my own table. What do you say?

"SHE DIDN'T TURN UP HER NOSE?

"I know she did; not but what it's needless--Providence has turned it up quite enough for her already. And she must give herself airs over my custards! Oh, I saw her mincing with the spoon as if she was chewing sand. What do you say?

"SHE PRAISED MY PLUM-PUDDING?

"Who asked her to praise it? Like her impudence, I think!

"Yes, a pretty day I've pa.s.sed. I shall not forget this wedding-day, I think! And as I say, a pretty speech you made in the way of thanks. No, Caudle, if I was to live a hundred years--you needn't groan, Mr. Caudle, I shall not trouble you half that time--if I was to live a hundred years, I should never forget it. Never! You didn't even so much as bring one of your children into your speech.

And--dear creatures!--what have THEY done to offend you? No; I shall not drive you mad. It's you, Mr. Caudle, who'll drive me mad.

Everybody says so.

"And you suppose I didn't see how it was managed that you and THAT Miss Prettyman were always partners at whist?

"HOW WAS IT MANAGED?

"Why, plain enough. Of course you packed the cards, and could cut what you liked. You'd settled that between you. Yes; and when she took a trick, instead of leading off a trump--she play whist, indeed!--what did you say to her, when she found it was wrong? Oh-- it was impossible that HER heart should mistake! And this, Mr.

Caudle, before people--with your own wife in the room!

"And Miss Prettyman--I won't hold my tongue. I WILL talk of Miss Prettyman: who's she, indeed, that I shouldn't talk of her? I suppose she thinks she sings? What do you say?

"SHE SINGS LIKE A MERMAID?

"Yes, very--very like a mermaid; for she never sings but she exposes herself. She might, I think, have chosen another song. 'I LOVE SOMEBODY,' indeed; as if I didn't know who was meant by that 'somebody'; and all the room knew it, of course; and that was what it was done for, nothing else.

"However, Mr. Caudle, as my mind's made up, I shall say no more about the matter to-night, but try to go to sleep."

"And to my astonishment and grat.i.tude," writes Caudle, "she kept her word."

LECTURE XXII--CAUDLE COMES HOME IN THE EVENING, AS MRS. CAUDLE HAS "JUST STEPPED OUT, SHOPPING." ON HER RETURN, AT TEN, CAUDLE REMONSTRATES

"Mr. Caudle, you ought to have had a slave--yes, a black slave, and not a wife. I'm sure, I'd better been born a negro at once--much better.

"WHAT'S THE MATTER NOW?

"Well, I like that. Upon my life, Mr. Caudle, that's very cool. I can't leave the house just to buy a yard of riband, but you storm enough to carry the roof off.

"YOU DIDN'T STORM? YOU ONLY SPOKE?

"Spoke, indeed! No, sir: I've not such superfine feelings; and I don't cry out before I'm hurt. But you ought to have married a woman of stone, for you feel for n.o.body: that is, for n.o.body in your own house. I only wish you'd show some of your humanity at home, if ever so little--that's all.

"What do you say?

"WHERE'S MY FEELINGS, TO GO SHOPPING AT NIGHT?

"When would you have me go? In the broiling sun, making my face like a gipsy's? I don't see anything to laugh at, Mr. Caudle; but you think of anybody's face before your wife's. Oh, that's plain enough; and all the world can see it. I dare say, now, if it was Miss Prettyman's face--now, now, Mr. Caudle! What are you throwing yourself about for? I suppose Miss Prettyman isn't so wonderful a person that she isn't to be named? I suppose she's flesh and blood.

What?

"YOU DON'T KNOW?

"Ha! I don't know that.

"What, Mr. Caudle?

"YOU'LL HAVE A SEPARATE ROOM--YOU'LL NOT BE TORMENTED IN THIS MANNER?

"No, you won't, sir--not while I'm alive. A separate room! And you call yourself a religious man, Mr. Caudle. I'd advise you to take down the Prayer Book, and read over the Marriage Service. A separate room, indeed! Caudle, you're getting quite a heathen. A separate room! Well, the servants would talk then! But no: no man--not the best that ever trod, Caudle--should ever make me look so contemptible.

"I SHA'N'T go to sleep; and you ought to know me better than to ask me to hold my tongue. Because you come home when I've just stepped out to do a little shopping, you're worse than a fury. I should like to know how many hours I sit up for you? What do you say?

"n.o.bODY WANTS ME TO SIT UP?

"Ha! that's like the grat.i.tude of men--just like 'em! But a poor woman can't leave the house, that--what?

"WHY CAN'T I GO AT REASONABLE HOURS?

"Reasonable! What do you call eight o'clock? If I went out at eleven and twelve, as you come home, then you might talk; but seven or eight o'clock--why, it's the cool of the evening; the nicest time to enjoy a walk; and, as I say, do a little bit of shopping. Oh yes, Mr. Caudle, I do think of the people that are kept in the shops just as much as you; but that's nothing at all to do with it. I know what you'd have. You'd have all those young men let away early from the counter to improve what you please to call their minds. Pretty notions you pick up among a set of free-thinkers, and I don't know what! When I was a girl, people never talked of minds--intellect, I believe you call it. Nonsense! a new-fangled thing, just come up; and the sooner it goes out, the better.