The Expedition of Humphry Clinker

THE EXPEDITION OF HUMPHRY CLINKER 289
particular friend; and I now offered in that character, to lay before
her the necessity of reforming her œconomy, if she had any regard
to the interest of her own family, or complaisance for the inclina-
tions of her husband—But Baynard declined my offer, on the
supposition that his wife’s nerves were too delicate to bear ex-
postulation; and that it would only serve to overwhelm her with
such distress as would make himself miserable.
Baynard is a man of spirit, and had she proved a termagant, he
would have known how to deal with her; but, either by accident
or instinct, she fastened upon the weak side of his soul, and held it
so fast, that he has been in subjection ever since—I afterwards
advised him to carry her abroad to France or Italy, where he might
gratify her vanity for half the expence it cost him in England; and
this advice he followed accordingly—She was agreeably flattered
with the idea of seeing and knowing foreign parts, and foreign
fashions; of being presented to sovereigns, and living familiarly
with princes. She forthwith seized the hint which I had thrown out
on purpose, and even pressed Mr. Baynard to hasten his departure;
so that in a few weeks they crossed the sea to France, with a
moderate train, still including the aunt; who was her bosom
counsellor, and abetted her in all her opposition to her husband’s
will—Since that period, I have had little or no opportunity to
renew our former correspondence—All that I knew of his trans-
actions, amounted to no more than that after an absence of two
years, they returned so little improved in œconomy, that they
launched out into new oceans of extravagance, which, at length,
obliged him to mortgage his estate—By this time she had bore him
three children, of which the last only survives, a puny boy of twelve
or thirteen, who will be ruined in his education by the indulgence
of his mother.
As for Baynard, neither his own good sense, nor the dread of
indigence, nor the consideration of his children, has been of force
sufficient to stimulate him into the resolution of breaking at once
the shameful spell by which he seems enchanted—With a taste
capable of the most refined enjoyment, a heart glowing with all the
warmth of friendship and humanity, and a disposition strongly
turned to the more rational pleasures of a retired and country life,
he is hurried about in a perpetual tumult, amidst a mob of beings
pleased with rattles, baubles, and gew-gaws, so void of sense and
distinction, that even the most acute philosophy would find it a