It is an even chance
That bridegrooms, after they are fairly groom’d,
May retrograde a little in the dance.
Byron.
That “a cobler should stick to his last,” is a homely old saying, of infinite worth, were men to act upon the spirit which it inculcates; but, unfortunately, like many other wholesome things, it is too often rejected as unpalatable, if not neglected altogether. The danger of the infraction of this maxim, however, has been proved by men of every grade, from the highest to the lowest—from Cobler Buonaparte down to Cobler Cobbett—the one marched to Russia, and lost the world by it; the other trudged to Windsor, and gained but a laugh for his pains. Ambition is at the bottom of all this: that passion which killed alike the Roman Cato and the London Daw. The one slew himself that he might not witness his rival’s success; the other died of grief because he could not bear to see his walk upon the stage usurped by an understrapper. Poor Daw had played for many years the fore leg of the elephant in Blue Beard with Éclat—he was the original leg; and it broke his heart to find himself thrown into the background, by being obliged to take the hind,12 instead of his foremost character. But this is a digression; let us return to our adage—“A cobler should stick to his last,” and proceed to an illustration of it in an affair which happened at Lisbon, in 1813.
A Commissariat clerk was on duty in that city at this period, who possessed a handsome wife. With his pay and allowances, amounting to about 180l. a-year, he managed to live very comfortably, enjoying the society of his brethren, and appearing, in every respect, a gentleman. But, unfortunately for him, the British Ambassador, then at Lisbon, (Lord Charles Stuart,) according to custom, gave periodical balls; and what was still more unfortunate, these balls were open to every respectable member of the army who might choose to attend. Of this privilege the wife of the gentleman in question determined to avail herself, and prevailed on her husband to accompany her. Whether it required much persuasion to accomplish the consent of the latter, is not known; but certain it is, that they both attended the balls, and “turned out” in a style that would not have disgraced a Commissary-general. Besides the expensive circle of acquaintance into which this attendance at the Ambassador’s balls must necessarily have led a married man, another and greater evil soon and clearly manifested itself. The Hussar brigade had then just arrived at Lisbon, splendidly equipped; and, of course, its members figured as the lions of the ball-room. Amongst them was a noble Marquis, a Captain, of elegant and insinuating manners, and remarkable for his gallantry in the field—of Venus; for he had not yet essayed in that of Mars,—and with the Commissariat gentleman’s wife the noble Captain danced. Without entering into a philosophical examination of the characters of women in general, let us assume, that few ladies, who know how to properly esteem the pleasures of dancing in public, could well have resisted the claims to admiration which a handsome Hussar, decorated with a title, and a pair of scarlet trowsers, all laced with gold, must have brought to his aid. The heroine of this page proved her taste, and admired the Marquis, as every lady possessing her susceptibility and her notions of the beau ideal, must have done. It is natural to look favourably upon those who admire us. Admiration possesses extraordinary procreative powers,—it even reproduces itself. The Marquis and the Commissariat clerk’s wife became, on the first night of their dancing together, familiar acquaintances; nay, before the ball broke up, they were found to be bona fide relations—absolute cousins-German, by the mother’s side! There is no doubt—they were cousins: the Marquis first traced the consanguinity, the lady was delighted at the discovery, and the credulous husband believed it! Many garrulous people, however, attempted to prove, that this cousinship was only got up, to cozen the Commissary, between the noble dancer and the sympathetic danseuse.13 Be that as it may, both husband and wife felt highly honoured, as we have said, by the discovery; and the former invited the Marquis, most pressingly, to his quarters.
The noble relation became a frequent visitor, and the Commissary spoke of his “Cousin, the Marquis,” to all his acquaintances with exultation; nor was the lady backward in her civilities, for she entertained her guest at dinner—at tea—at supper—at all things, and at all times, within her power, in such a way, that the cousins were scarcely ever out of each other’s society.
In about three weeks after the cousinship commenced, the Hussars were ordered up the country, to join the main body of the army, and the Marquis remained a few days behind, for the purpose of—what? Why, of making suitable arrangements to carry his fair cousin with him to the regiment, and away from the husband who had behaved so hospitably towards him, and so indulgently to her!
The Marquis took her off to Santarem, where his regiment lay; but, to the everlasting credit of that regiment, (which, by the by, has been so roughly, and perhaps unjustly, handled by public opinion) the Marquis was not permitted to join; for the facts of the cozening had galloped faster than the noble Captain’s horses, and the officers set their faces against the affair. He was obliged to return to Lisbon, with the companion of his trip; when, after some fruitless endeavours to reconcile the disunited couple, he sent the lady to England, and thus patched up the honour of his name with his regiment.
The unhappy husband at first took the matter to heart; but soon overcame his feelings, and learned to despise both the wretched woman and her paramour.
It is but fair to mention, however, that the Marquis was not so much to blame as the lady in this transaction: he laid no siege for years, nor even months, before the citadel—capitulation almost came with the summons—the vanity of the woman was touched, and the spell awakened all her evil passions. Her husband was a man of good sense, (although in this instance he went “beyond his last;”) he possessed a good person, agreeable manners, and an affectionate and sincere heart; yet this wife left him for an acquaintance of an hour! Blame is always readier to fall upon the man than on the woman in affairs of this kind, and often very unjustly,—in this case decidedly so; for although the Marquis acted foolishly and rashly, in taking the wife away; yet the woman was not worth a thought who could be thus won. However, the only real sufferer, at present, is the unfortunate wife.