 CHAPTER X Showing the truth of many observations of avid, and of other more grave riders, who have proved beyond contradiction that wine is often the forerunner of incontinency. Jones retired from the company in which we have seen him engaged into the fields, where he intended to cool himself by a walk in the open air before he attended, Mr. Allworthy. There, whilst he renewed those meditations on his dear Sophia, which the dangerous illness of his friend and benefactor had for some time interrupted, an accident happened, which with sorrow we relate, and with sorrow doubtless will it be read. However, that historic truth to which we profess so inviolable an attachment obliges us to communicate it to posterity. It was now a pleasant evening in the latter end of June, when our hero was walking in a most delicious grove, where the gentle breezes fanning the leaves, together with the sweet trilling of a murmuring stream, and the melodious notes of the nightingales, formed altogether the most enchanting harmony. In this scene, so sweetly accommodated to love, he meditated on his dear Sophia, while his wanton fancy roamed unbounded over all her beauties, and his lively imagination painted the charming maid in various ravishing forms, his warm heart melted with tenderness, and at length, throwing himself on the ground by the side of a gently murmuring brook, he broke forth into the following ejaculation. Oh Sophia, would heaven give thee to my arms how blessed would be my condition? Cursed be that fortune which sets a distance between us! Was I but possessed of thee? One only suit of rags thy whole estate! Is there a man on earth whom I would end me? How contemptible would the brightest Circassian beauty, dressed in all the jewels of the Indies, appear to my eyes? But why do I mention another woman? Could I think my eyes capable of looking at any other with tenderness these hands should tear them from my head? No, my Sophia, if cruel fortune separates us forever, my soul shall dote on thee alone. The chastest constancy will I ever preserve to thy image. Though I should never have possession of thy charming person, still shall thou alone have possession of my thoughts, my love, my soul. Oh, my fond heart is so rapt in that tender bosom, that the brightest beauties would, for me, have no charms, nor would a hermit be colder in their embraces. Sophia, Sophia alone shall be mine. What raptures are in that name? I will engrave it on every tree. At these words he started up and beheld, not his Sophia, no, nor a Circassian maid richly and elegantly attired for the grand signore Siraglio. No, without a gown and a shift that was somewhat of the coarsest, and none of the cleanest, bedewed likewise with some odiferous effluvia, the produce of the day's labor, with a pitchfork in her hand. Molly Seagram approached. Our hero had his penknife in his hand, which he had drawn for the before-mentioned purpose of carving on the bark, when the girl coming near him cried out with a smile. You don't intend to kill me, Squire, I hope. Why should you think I would kill you? answered Jones. Nay, replied she, after your cruel usage of me, when I saw you last, killing me would, perhaps, be too great a kindness for me to expect. Here ensued a parlay, which, as I do not think myself obliged to relate it, I shall admit. It is sufficient that it lasted a full quarter of an hour, at the conclusion of which they retired into the thickest part of the grove. Some of my readers may be inclined to think this event unnatural. However the fact is true, and perhaps may be sufficiently accounted for by suggesting that Jones probably thought one woman better than none, and Molly, as probably, imagined two men to be better than one. Besides the before-mentioned motive assigned to the present behavior of Jones, the reader will be likewise pleased to recollect, in his favor, that he was not, at this time, perfect master of that wonderful power of reason, which so well enables grave and wise men to subdue their unruly passions, and to decline any of these prohibited amusements. Wine now had totally subdued this power in Jones. He was, indeed, in a condition in which, if reason had interposed, though only to advise, she might have received the answer which one Cleostratus gave many years ago to a silly fellow who asked him if he was not ashamed to be drunk. Are not you, said Cleostratus, ashamed to admonish a drunken man? To say the truth, in a court of justice drunkenness must not be an excuse. Yet, in a court of conscience, it is greatly so, and therefore Aristotle, who commends the laws of Patekis, by which drunken men receive double punishment for their crimes, allows that there is more of policy than justice in that law. Now, if there are any transgressions pardonable from drunkenness, they are certainly such as Mr. Jones was at present guilty of, on which head I could pour forth a vast perfusion of learning, if I imagined it would either entertain my reader or teach him anything more than he knows already. For his sake, therefore, I shall keep my learning to myself and return to my history. It hath been observed that fortune seldom doth things by haves. To say truth, there is no end to her freaks whenever she is disposed to gratify or displease. No sooner had our hero retired with his dido, but Spelluncombe, Bliffle, Duxedivines, Yandem, Divinient. The parson and the young squire, who were taking a serious walk, arrived at the style which leads into the grove, and the latter caught a view of the lovers just as they were sinking out of sight. Bliffle knew Jones very well, though he was at above a hundred yards distance, and he was as positive to the sex of his companion, though not to the individual person. He started, blessed himself, and uttered a very solemn ejaculation. Thwackam expressed some surprise at these sudden emotions and asked the reason of them. To which Bliffle answered, he was certain he had seen a fellow and wench retire together among the bushes, which he doubted not was with some wicked purpose. As to the name of Jones, he thought proper to conceal it, and why he did so must be left to the judgment of the sagacious reader, for we never choose to assign motives to the actions of men when there is any possibility of our being mistaken. The parson, who was not only strictly chased in his own person, but a great enemy to the opposite vice in all others fired at this information. He desired Mr. Bliffle to conduct him immediately to the place which, as he approached, he breathed forth vengeance, mixed with lamentations. Nor did he refrain from casting some oblique reflections on Mr. Allworthy, insinuating that the wickedness of the country was principally owing to the encouragement he had given to Vice by having exerted such kindness to a bastard, and by having mitigated that just and wholesome vigor of the law which allots a very severe punishment to loose wenches. The way through which our hunters were to pass in pursuit of their game was so beset with briars that it greatly obstructed their walk and caused, besides such a rustling, that Jones had sufficient warning of their arrival before they could surprise him. Nay, indeed, so incapable was Thwackam of concealing his indignation, and such vengeance did he mutter forth every step he took, that this alone must have abundantly satisfied Jones that he was, to use the language of sportsmen, found sitting. Chapter 11, in which a semily, in Mr. Pope's period, of a mile, introduces as bloody a battle as can possibly be fought without the assistance of steel or cold iron. As in the season of rutting, an uncouth phrase by which the vulgar denote, that gentle dalliance which in the well-wooded forest of Hampshire note, this is an ambiguous phrase and may mean either a forest well clothed with wood, or well stripped of it, end of note. That gentle dalliance which in the well-wooded forest of Hampshire passes between lovers of the fairing kind. If while the lofty crusted stag meditates the amorous sport, a couple of puppies or any other beast of hostile note should wander so near the temple of Venus Farina, that the fair hind should shrink from the place, touch with that somewhat, either of fear or frolic, of nicety or skittishness, with which nature hath bedecked all females, or hath at least instructed them how to put it on. Lest through the indelicacy of males the Sammian mysteries should be pried into by unhallowed eyes, for at the celebration of these rites the female priestess cries out with her in Virgil, who was then probably hard at work on such celebration. Procul o procul este profani proclamat vates totoke absitite luco Far hence be souls profane the cybil cried, and from the grove abstain. Dryden, if I say, while these sacred rites which are in common to genus Audne animatium, are in agitation between the stag and his mistress, any hostile beasts should venture too near, on the first hint given by the frighted hind, fierce and tremendous rushes forth the stag to the entrance of the thicket. There stands he sentinel over his love, stamps the ground with his foot, and with his horns brandished aloft in air proudly provokes the apprehended foe to combat. Thus and more terrible, when he perceived the enemy's approach, leapt forth our hero. Many a step advanced he forwards in order to conceal the trembling hind, and, if possible, to secure her retreat. And now, Thwackam, having first darted some livid lightning from his fiery eyes, began to thunder forth. Fie upon it, Fie upon it, Mr. Jones, is it possible you should be the person? You see, Answer Jones, it is possible I should be here. And who, said Thwackam, is that wicked slut with you? If I have any wicked slut with me, cries Jones, it is possible I shall not let you know who she is. I command you to tell me immediately, says Thwackam, and I would not have you imagine, young man, that your age, though it hath somewhat abridged the purpose of tuition, hath totally taken away the authority of the master. The relation of the master and scholar is indelible, as indeed all other relations are, for they all derive their original from heaven. I would have you think, yourself, therefore, as much obliged to obey me now, as when I taught you your first rudiments. I believe you would, cries Jones, but that will not happen, unless you had the same Bertian argument to convince me. Then I must tell you plainly, said Thwackam. I am resolved to discover the wicked wretch. And I must tell you plainly, return Jones, I am resolved you shall not. Thwackam then offered to advance, and Jones laid hold of his arms, which Mr. Bliffle endeavored to rescue, declaring he would not see his old master insulted. Jones, now finding himself engaged with two, thought it necessary to rid himself of one of his antagonists as soon as possible. He therefore applied to the weakest first, and, letting the parson go, he directed a blow at the young squire's breast, which, luckily taking place, reduced him to measure his length on the ground. Thwackam was so intent on the discovery that the moment he found himself at liberty, he stepped forward directly into the fern, without any great consideration of what might in the meantime befall his friend. But he had advanced a very few paces into the thicket, before Jones, having defeated Bliffle, overtook the parson, and dragged him backward by the skirt of his coat. This parson had been a champion in his youth, and had won much honor by his fist, both at school and at the university. He had now, indeed for a great number of years, declined the practice of that noble art, yet was his courage full as strong as his faith, and his body no less strong than either. He was, moreover, as the reader may perhaps have conceived somewhat irascible in his nature. When he looked back, therefore, and saw his friend stretched out on the ground, and found himself at the same time so roughly handled by one who had formerly been only passive in all conflicts between them, a circumstance which highly aggravated the whole. His patience at length gave way. He threw himself into a posture of offense, and, collecting all his force, attacked Jones in the front with as much impetuosity as he had formerly attacked him in the rear. Our hero received the enemy's attack with the most undaunted intrepidity, and his bosom resounded with the blow. This he presently returned with no less violence, aiming likewise at the parson's breast. But he, dexterously, drove down the fist of Jones so that it reached only his belly, where two pounds of beef and as many of pudding were then deposited, and whence, consequently, no hollow sound could proceed. Many lusty blows, much more pleasant as well as easy to have seen, than to read or describe, were given on both sides. At last a violent fall, in which Jones had thrown his knees into Thwackam's breast, so weakened the latter that victory had been no longer dubious, had not bliffle, who had now recovered his strength, again renewed the fight, and by engaging with Jones, given the parson a moment's time to shake his ears and to regain his breath. And now both together attacked our hero, whose blows did not retain that force with which they had fallen at first, so weakened was he by his combat with Thwackam, for though the pedagogue chose rather to play solos on the human instrument, and had been lately used to those only, yet he still retained enough of his ancient knowledge to perform his part very well in a duet. The victory, according to modern custom, was like to be decided by numbers, when, on a sudden, a fourth pair of fists appeared in the battle, and immediately paid their compliments to the parson, and the owner of them at the same time crying out, Are you not ashamed, and be damned to you, to fall two of you upon one? The battle, which was of the kind that for distinction's sake is called royal, now raged with the utmost violence during a few minutes, till, blilful being a second time laid sprawling by Jones, Thwackam condescended to apply for quarter to his new antagonist, who was now found to be Mr. Western himself, for in the heat of the action none of the combatants had recognized him. In fact, that honest squire, happening in his afternoon's walk with some company, to pass through the field where the bloody battle was fought, and having concluded, from seeing three men engaged, that two of them must be on a side, he hastened from his companions, and with more gallantry than policy, espoused the cause of the weaker party, by which generous proceeding he very probably prevented Mr. Jones from becoming a victim, to the wrath of Thwackam, and to the pious friendship which blilful bore his old master, for, besides the disadvantage of such odds, Jones had not yet sufficiently recovered the former strength of his broken arm. This reinforcement, however, soon put an end to the action, and Jones, with his ally, obtained the victory, Chapter 12, in which is seen a more moving spectacle than all the blood and the bodies of Thwackam and blilful, and of twenty other such, is capable of producing. The rest of Mr. Western's company were now come up, being just at the instant when the action was over. These were the honest clergymen whom we have formally seen at Mr. Western's table, Mrs. Western, the aunt of Sophia, and lastly, the lovely Sophia herself. At this time the following was the aspect of the bloody field. In one place lay on the ground all pale, and almost breathless, the vanquished blilful. Near him stood the conqueror Jones, almost covered with blood, part of which was naturally his own, and part had been lately the property of the reverend Mr. Thwackam. In a third place stood the said Thwackam, like King Porus, sullenly submitting to the conqueror. The last figure in the piece was Western the Great, most gloriously forbearing the vanquished foe, blilful, in whom there was little sign of life, was at first the principal object of the concern of everyone, and particularly of Mrs. Western, who had drawn from her pocket a nose of heartshorn, and was herself about to apply it to his nostrils, when, on a sudden, the attention of the whole company was diverted from poor, blilful, whose spirit, if it had any such design, might have now taken an opportunity of stealing off to the other world without any ceremony. For now a more melancholy and a more lovely object lay motionless before them. This is no other than the charming Sophia herself, who, from the sight of blood, or from fear for her father, or from some other reason, had fallen down in a swoon before anyone could get to her assistance. Mrs. Western first saw her and screamed. Immediately two or three voices cried out, Miss Western is dead. Heartshorn, water, every remedy was called for, almost at one and the same instant. The reader may remember that, in our description of this grove, we mentioned a murmurine brook. Which brook did not come there, as such gentle streams flow through vulgar romances, with no other purpose than to murmur? No. Fortune had decreed to ennoble this little brook with a higher honour than any of those which watched the plains of Arcadia ever deserved. Jones was rubbing bliffle's temples, for he began to fear that he had given him a blow too much, when the words Miss Western and dead rushed at once on his ear. He started up, left bliffle to his fate, and flew to Sophia, whom, while all the rest were running against each other, backward and forward, looking for water in the dry past, he caught up in his arms and then ran away with her over the field of the rivulet above mentioned, where, plunging himself into the water, he contrived to besprinkle her face, head and neck very plentifully. Happy was it for Sophia that the same confusion which prevented her other friends from serving her, prevented them likewise from obstructing Jones. He had carried her half ways before they knew what he was doing, and he had actually restored her to life before they reached the waterside. She stretched out her arms, opened her eyes, and cried, oh heavens, just as her father, aunt, and the person came up. Jones, who had hitherto held this lovely birthing in his arms, now relinquished his hold, but gave her at the same instant a tender caress which had her senses, and then perfectly restored, could not have escaped her observation. As she expressed, therefore, no displeasure at this freedom, we suppose she was not sufficiently recovered from her swoon at the time. This tragical scene was now converted into a sudden scene of joy. In this, our hero was certainly the principal character for, as he probably felt, more ecstatic delight in having saved Sophia than she herself received from being saved. So, neither were the congratulations paid to her equal to what were conferred on Jones, especially by Mr. Western himself, who, after having once or twice embraced his daughter, fell to hugging and kissing Jones. He called him the preserver of Sophia, and declared there was nothing except her, or his estate, which he would not give him. But upon recollection he afterwards accepted his foxhounds, the Chevalier and Miss Slouch, for so he called his favorite mare. All fears for Sophia being now removed, Jones became the object of the squire's consideration. Come, my lad, says Western. D'off thy quote, and wash thy feasts. For at, in a devilish pickle, I promise thee, Come, come, wash thyself, and shat go hum with me, and will see to vend thee another quote. Jones immediately complied. Through office-coat went down to the water, and washed both his face and bosom, for the latter was as much exposed and as bloody as the former. But though the water could clear off the blood, it could not remove the black and blue marks which Thwackam had imprinted on both his face and breast, and which, being discerned by Sophia, drew from her a sigh and a look of inexpressible tenderness. Jones received this full in his eyes, and it had infinitely a stronger effect on him than all the contusions which he had received before. An effect, however, widely different for so soft and balmy was it, that had all of his former blows been stabs, it would for some minutes have prevented his feeling there smart. The company now moved backwards, and soon arrived where Thwackam had got Mr. Bliffle again on his legs. Here we cannot suppress a pious wish that all quarrels were to be decided by those weapons only with which nature, knowing what is proper for us, hath supplied us, and that cold iron which to be used in digging no bowels but those of the earth, then would war the pastime of monarchs be almost inoffensive, and battles between great armies might be fought at the particular desire of several ladies of quality who, together with the kings themselves, might be actual spectators of the conflict. Then might the field be, this moment, well-strewed with human carcasses, and the next, the dead men, or infinitely the greatest part of them, might get up, like Mr. Bay's troops, and march off either at the sound of a drum or fiddle, as should be previously agreed upon. I would avoid, if possible, treating this matter ludicrously, lest grave men and politicians, whom I know to be offended at a jest, may cry, Pish at it. But in reality, might not a battle be as well decided by the greater number of broken heads, bloody noses and black eyes, as by the greater heaps of mangled and murdered human bodies, might not towns be contended for in the same manner. Indeed, this may be thought too detrimental a scheme to the French interest, since they would thus lose the advantage they have over other nations in the superiority of their engineers. But when I consider the gallantry and generosity of that people, I am persuaded that they would never decline putting themselves upon a par with their adversary, or as the phrase is, making themselves his match. But such reformations are rather to be wished than hoped for. I shall content myself, therefore, with this short hint and return to my narrative. Western began now to inquire into the original rise of this quarrel, to which neither Blilful nor Jones gave any answer. But Thwackam said, surly, I believe the cause is not far off. If you beat the bush as well, you may find her. Find her! replied Western. What? Have you been fighting for a winch? As the gentleman in his west cut there, said Thwackam, he best knows. Nay then, cries Western, it is a winch, certainly. Ah, Tom, Tom, thou art a liquorish dog. But come, gentlemen, be all friends, and go home with me, and make final peace over a bottle. I ask your pardon, sir, says Thwackam. It is no such slight matter for a man of my character to be thus injuriously treated and buffeted by a boy, only because I would have done my duty in endeavoring to detect and bring to justice a wanton harlot. But, indeed, the principle lies in Mr. Allworthy and Yourself. For if you put the laws in execution, as you ought to do, you will soon rid the country of these vermin. I would soon rid the country of foxes, cries Western. I think we ought to encourage the recruiting, those numbers which we are every day losing in the war. But where is she? Pretty Tom, show me. He then began to beat about, in the same language and in the same manner as if he had been beating out a hare. And at last cried out, Soho! Puss is not far off. Here's her form upon my soul. I believe I may cry, Stole away. And, indeed, so he might, for he had now discovered the place where the poor girl had, at the beginning of the fray, stolen away. Upon as many feet as a hare generally uses in traveling. Sophia now desired her father to return home, saying she found herself very faint and apprehended a relapse. The squire immediately complied with his daughter's request, for he was the fondest of parents. He earnestly endeavored to prevail with the whole company to go and suck with him, but the bliffle and thwackam absolutely refused. The former saying there were more reasons than he could then mention why he must decline this honor. And the latter declaring, perhaps rightly, that it was not proper for a person of his function to be seen at any place in his present condition. Jones was incapable of refusing the pleasure of being with his Sophia, so he marched with Squire Western and his ladies, the parson bringing up the rear. This head, indeed, offered to Terry with his brother, Thwackam, professing his regard for the cloth would not permit him to depart, but Thwackam would not accept the favor, and, with no great civility, pushed him after Mr. Western. Thus ended the bloody fray, and thus shall end the fifth book of this history, End of Section 18 of Tom Jones, read by Dennis Sayers in Modesto, California, for LibriVox Spring, 2008 In our last book we had been obliged to deal pretty much with the passion of love, and in our succeeding book shall be forced to handle the subject still more largely. It may not, therefore, in this place be improper to apply ourselves to the examination of that modern doctrine by which certain philosophers, among many other wonderful discoveries, pretend to have found out that there is no such passion in the human breast. Whether these philosophers be the same with that surprising sect who are honorably mentioned by the late Dr. Swift as having, by the mere force of genius alone, without the least assistance of any kind of learning, or even reading, discovered that profound and invaluable secret that there is no God, or whether they are not rather the same with those who some years since very much alarmed the world by showing that there were no such things as virtue or goodness really existing in human nature, and who deduced our best actions from pride, I will not here presume to determine. In reality, I am inclined to suspect that all these several finders of truth are the very identical men who are by others called the finders of gold. The method used in both these searches after truth and after gold being indeed one and the same, namely the searching, rummaging, and examining into a nasty place, indeed in the former instances, into the nastiest of all places, a bad mind. But though in this particular, and perhaps in their success, the truth finder and the gold finder may very properly be compared together, yet in modesty surely there can be no comparison between the two, for whoever heard of a gold finder that had the impudence, or folly to assert, from the ill success of his search that there was no such thing as gold in the world. Whereas the truth finder, having raked out that Jake's his own mind, and being there capable of tracing no ray of divinity nor anything virtuous or good, or lovely or loving, very fairly, honestly and logically concludes that no such things exist in the whole creation. To avoid, however, all contention, if possible, with these philosophers, if they will be called so, and to show our own disposition to accommodate matters peaceably between us, we shall here make them some concessions which may possibly put an end to the dispute. First, we will grant that many minds, and perhaps those of the philosophers, are entirely free from the least traces of such a passion. Secondly, that what is commonly called love, namely the desire of satisfying a voracious appetite with a certain quantity of delicate white human flesh, is by no means that passion for which I here contend. This is indeed more properly hunger, and as no glutton is ashamed to apply the word love to his appetite, and to say he loves such and such dishes, so may the lover of this kind with equal propriety say he hungers after such and such women. Thirdly, I will grant, which I believe will be a most acceptable concession, that this love for which I am an advocate, though it satisfies itself in a much more delicate manner, doth nevertheless seek its own satisfaction as much as the grossest of all our appetites. And lastly, that this love, when it operates towards one of a different sex, is very apt towards its complete gratification to call in the aid of that hunger which I have mentioned above, and which it is so far from abating that it heightens all its delights to a degree scarce imaginable by those who have never been susceptible of any other emotions than what have proceeded from appetite alone. In return to all these concessions, I desire of the philosophers to grant that there is in some, I believe in many, human breasts a kind and benevolent disposition which is gratified by contributing to the happiness of others, that in this gratification alone, as in friendship, in parental and filial affection, as indeed in general philanthropy, there is a great and exquisite delight, that if we will not call such disposition love, we have no name for it, that though the pleasures arising from such pure love may be heightened and sweetened by the assistance of amorous desires, yet the former can subsist alone, nor are they destroyed by the intervention of the latter. Lastly, that esteem and gratitude are the proper motives to love, as youth and beauty are to desire, and therefore though such desire may naturally cease when age or sickness overtakes its object, yet these can have no effect on love, nor even shake or remove from a good mind that sensation or passion which hath gratitude and esteem for its basis. To deny the existence of a passion of which we often see manifest instances seems to be very strange and absurd, and can indeed proceed only from that self-admonition which we have mentioned above. But how unfair is this? Doth the man who recognizes in his own heart no traces of avarice or ambition conclude, therefore, that there are no such passions in human nature? Why will we not modestly observe the same rule in judging of the good as well as the evil in others? Or why, in any case, will we, as Shakespeare phrases it, put the world in our own person? Predominant vanity is, I am afraid, too much concerned here. This is one instance of that adulation which we bestow on our own minds, and this almost universally, for there is scarce any man how much soever he may despise the character of a flatterer, but will condescend in the meanest manner to flatter himself. To those, therefore, I apply for the truth of the above observations whose own minds can bear testimony to what I have advanced. Examine your heart, my good reader, and resolve whether you do believe these matters with me. If you do, you may now proceed to their exemplification in the following pages. If you do not, you have, I assure you, already read more than you have understood, and it would be wiser to pursue your business or your pleasures such as they are than to throw away any more of your time in reading what you can neither taste nor comprehend. To treat of the effects of love to you must be as absurd as to discourse on colors to a man born blind, since possibly your idea of love may be as absurd as that which we are told such blind man once entertained of the color scarlet. That color seemed to him to be very much like the sound of a trumpet, and love, probably, may, in your opinion, very greatly resemble a dish of soup or a sirloin of roast beef. Chapter two, the character of Mrs. Western, her great learning and knowledge of the world, and an instance of the deep penetration which she derived from those advantages. The reader has seen Mr. Western, his sister and daughter, with young Jones, and the person going together to Mr. Western's house, where the greater part of the company spent the evening with much joy and festivity. Sophia was indeed the only grave person, for as to Jones, though love had now gotten entire possession of his heart, yet the pleasing reflection of Mr. Allworthy's recovery and the presence of his mistress, joined to some tender looks which she now and then could not refrain from giving him, so elevated our hero, that he joined the mirth of the other three, who were perhaps as good-humored people as any in the world. Sophia retained the same gravity of countenance the next morning at breakfast, when she retired, likewise, earlier than usual, leaving her father and aunt together. The squire took no notice of this change in his daughter's disposition. To say the truth, though he was somewhat of a politician, and had been twice a candidate in the country interest at an election, he was a man of no great observation. His sister was a lady of a different turn. She had lived about the court, and had seen the world. Hence, she had required all that knowledge which the said world usually communicates, and was a perfect mistress of manners, customs, ceremonies, and fashions. Nor did her eruditions stop here. She had considerably improved her mind by study. She had not only read all the modern plays, operas, oratorios, poems, and romances, in all which she was a critic, but had gone through Reipen's history of England, Etchard's Roman history, and many French memoirs pour servir à l'histoire. To these she had added most of the political pamphlets and journals published within the last twenty years, from which she had attained a very competent skill in politics, and could discourse very learnedly on the affairs of Europe. She was, moreover, excellently well skilled in the doctrine of Amour, and knew better than anybody who and who were together. A knowledge which she the more easily attained, as her pursuit of it was never diverted by any affairs of her own, for either she had no inclinations, or they had never been solicited, which last is indeed very probable. For her masculine person, which was near six foot high, added to her manner and learning, possibly prevented the other sex from regarding her, notwithstanding her petticoats, in the light of a woman. However, as she had considered the matter scientifically, she perfectly well knew, though she had never practised them, all the arts which fine ladies use when they desire to give encouragement, or to conceal liking, with all the long appendage of smiles, ogles, glances, etc., as they are at present practised in the Beaumont. To some the whole, no species of disguise or affectation had escaped her notice, but as to the plain simple workings of honest nature, as she had never seen any such, she could know but little of them. By means of this wonderful sagacity, Mrs. Western had now, as she thought, made a discovery of something in the mind of Sophia. The first hint of this she took from the behaviour of the young lady in the field of battle, and the suspicion which she then conceived, was greatly corroborated by some observations which she had made that evening and the next morning. However, being greatly cautious to avoid being found in a mistake, she carried the secret a whole fortnight in her bosom, giving only some oblique hints by simpering, winks, nods, and now and then dropping an obscure word, which indeed sufficiently alarmed Sophia, but did not at all affect her brother. Being at length, however, thoroughly satisfied of the truth of her observation, she took an opportunity, one morning, when she was alone with her brother, to interrupt one of his whistles in the following manner. Pray, brother, have you not observed something very extra-ordinary in my knees lately? No, not I, answered Western. Is anything the matter with the girl? I think there is, replied she, and something of much consequence too. Why, she doth not complain of anything, cries Western, and she hath had the smallpox. Brother, returned she, girls are liable to other distempers besides the smallpox, and sometimes possibly to much worse. Here Western interrupted her with much earnestness, and begged her, if anything, ailed his daughter, to acquaint him immediately, adding she knew he loved her more than his own soul, and that he would send to the world's end for the best physician to her. Nay, nay, answered she, smiling. The distemper is not so terrible. I believe, brother, you are convinced I know the world, and I promise you I was never more deceived in my life if my knees be not most desperately in love. How, in love! cries Western, in a passion. In love, without acquainting me? I'll disinherit her. I'll turn her out of doors, stark naked, without affarthing. Is all my kindness for your invoiteness, oh, your come to this? To fall in love without asking me leave? But you will not, answered Mrs. Western, turn this daughter, whom you love better than your own soul, out of doors, before you know whether you shall approve her choice. Suppose she should have fixed on the very person whom you yourself would wish. I hope you would not be angry then. No, no, Christ Western, that would make a difference. If she marries the man I would have, she may love whom she pleases. I shan't trouble my head about that. That is spoken, answered the sister, like a sensible man. But I believe the very person she hath chosen would be the very person you would choose for her. I will disclaim all knowledge of the world, if it is not so. And I believe, brother, you will allow I have some. Why, lookie sister, said Western, I do believe you have as much as any woman. And to be sure, those are women's matters. You know I don't love to hear you talk about politics. They belong to us, and petticoats should not meddle. But come, who is the man? Mary, said she, you may find him out yourself, if you please. You, who are so great a politician, can be at no great loss. The judgment which can penetrate into the cabinets of princes, and discover the secret springs which move the great state wheels in all the political machines of Europe, must surely, with very little difficulty, find out what passes in the rude, uninformed mind of a girl. Sister, cries the squire, I have often warned you not to talk the court gibberish to me. I tell you, I don't understand the lingo. But I can read a journal, or the London Evening Post. Perhaps, indeed, there may be now and unaverse which I can't make much of, because half the letters are left out. Yet I know very well what is meant by that, and that our affairs don't go so well as they should do, because of bribery and corruption. I pity your country ignorance from my heart, cries the lady. Do you? answered Western. And I pity your town-learning. I had rather be anything than a courtier and a Presbyterian and a Hanoverian too, as some people, I believe, are. If you mean, answered she, you know I am a woman, brother, and it signifies nothing what I am. Besides, I do know you are a woman, cries the squire, and it's well for thee that art one. If had been a man, I promised thee I had lent thee a flick long ago. I, there, said she, in that flick lies all your fancy superiority. Your bodies, not your brains, are stronger than ours. Believe me, it is well for you that you are able to beat us. Or such is the superiority of our understanding. We should make all of you what the brave and wise and witty and polite are already. Our slaves. I am glad I know your mind, answered the squire. But we'll talk more of this matter another time. At present do tell me what man is it you mean about my daughter. Hold a moment, said she, while I digest that sovereign contempt I have for your sex, or else I ought to be angry, too, with you. There, I have made a shift to gulp it down. And now, good politics, sir, would think you of Mr. Blyphil. Did she not faint away on seeing him lie breathless on the ground? Did she not, after he was recovered, turn pale again the moment we came up to that part of the field where he stood? And pray what else should be the occasion of all her melancholy that night at supper, the next morning, and indeed ever since. For, George, cries the squire, now you mind me, Aunt, I remember it all. It is certainly so, and I am glad, Aunt, with all my heart. I knew Sophie was a good girl, and would not fall in love to make me angry. I was never more rejoiced in my life, for nothing can lie so handy together as our two estates. I had this matter in my head some time ago, for certainly the two estates are in a manner joint together in matrimony already, and it would be a thousand pities to part them. It is true, indeed, there be larger estates in the kingdom, but not in this county, and I had rather bait something than marry my daughter among strangers and foreigners. Besides, most of such great estates be in the hands of lords, and I hate the very name of them. Well, but, sister, what would you advise me to do? For I tell you women know these matters better than we do. Oh, your humble servant, sir, answered the lady, we are obliged to you for allowing us a capacity in anything. Since you are pleased, then, most politics, sir, to ask my advice, I think you may propose the match to all worthy yourself. There is no end decorum in the proposals coming from the parent of either side. King Alcenas and Mr. Pope's Odyssey offers his daughter to Ulysses. I need not caution so politic a person not to say that your daughter is in love. That would, indeed, be against all rules. Well, said the squire, I will propose it, but I shall certainly lend on a flick if he should refuse me. Fear not, Christ Mrs. Western, the match is too advantageous to be refused. I don't know that, answered the squire, all worthy as a queer boon and money hath no effect on. Brother, said the lady, your politics astonish me. Are you really to be imposed on by professions? Do you think Mr. Allworthy hath more contempt for money than other men because he professes more? Such credulity would better become one of us weak women, than that wise sex which heaven hath formed for politicians. Indeed, brother, you would make a fine plenipo to negotiate with the French. They would soon persuade you that they take towns out of mere defensive principles. Sister, answered the squire with much scorn, let your friends at court answer for the towns taken. As you are a woman, I shall lay no blame upon you, for I suppose they are wiser than to trust women with secrets. He accompanied this with so sarcastical a laugh that Mrs. Western could bear no longer. She had been all this time fretted in a tender part, for she was indeed very deeply skilled in these matters, and very violent in them, and therefore burst forth in a rage, declared her brother to be both a clown and a blockhead, and that she would stay no longer in his house. The squire, though perhaps he had never read Machiavelle, was, however, in many points a perfect politician. He strongly held all those wise tenets which are so well inculcated in that political peripatetic school of exchange alley. He knew the just value and only use of money, namely to lay it up. He was likewise well skilled in the exact value of reversions, expectations, etc., and had often considered the amount of his sister's fortune and the chance which here his posterity had on inheriting it. This he was infinitely too wise to sacrifice to a trifling resentment. When he found, therefore, he had carried matters too far he began to think of reconciling them, which was no very difficult task as the lady had great affection for her brother and still greater for her niece, and though too susceptible of an affront offered to her skill in politics, on which she much valued herself, was a woman of a very extraordinary good and sweet disposition. Having first, therefore, laid violent hands on the horses, for whose escape from the stable no place but the window was left open, he next applied himself to his sister, softened and soothed her by unsaying all he had said, and by assertions directly contrary to those which had incensed her. Lastly, he summoned the eloquence of Sophia to his assistants, who, besides a most graceful and winning address, had the advantage of being heard with great favour and partiality by her aunt. The result of the whole was a kind smile from Mrs. Western, who said, Brother, you are absolutely a perfect croat, but as those have their use in the army of the Empress Queen, so you likewise have some good in you, I will therefore once more sign a treaty of peace with you, and see that you do not infringe it on your side. At least, as you are so excellent a politician, I may expect you will keep your leagues, like the French, till your interest calls upon you to break them. Chapter 3 Containing Two Defiances to the Critics The squire, having settled matters with his sister, as we have seen in the last chapter, was so greatly impatient to communicate the proposal to Alworthy that Mrs. Western had the utmost difficulty to prevent him from visiting that gentleman in his sickness for this purpose. Mr. Alworthy had been engaged to dine with Mr. Western at the time when he was taken ill. He was therefore no sooner discharged out of the custody of Physic, but he thought, as was usual with him on all occasions, both the highest and the lowest, of fulfilling his engagement. In the interval between the time of the dialogue in the last chapter and this day of public entertainment, Sophia had, from certain obscure hints thrown out by her aunt, collected some apprehension that the sagacious lady suspected her passion for Jones. She now resolved to take this opportunity of wiping out all such suspicion, and for that purpose to put an entire constraint on her behavior. First, she endeavored to conceal a throbbing melancholy heart with the utmost sprightliness in her countenance, and the highest gaiety in her manner. Secondly, she addressed her whole discourse to Mr. Blyphil, and took not the least notice of poor Jones the whole day. The squire was so delighted with this conduct of his daughter that he scarce ate any dinner, and spent almost his whole time in watching opportunities of conveying signs of his approbation by winks and nods to his sister, who was not at first altogether so pleased with what she saw as was her brother. In short, Sophia so greatly overacted her part that her aunt was at first staggered and began to suspect some affectation in her niece. But as she was herself a woman of great art, so she soon attributed this to extreme art in Sophia. She remembered the many hints she had given her niece concerning her being in love, and imagined the young lady had taken this way to rally her out of her opinion by an overacted civility—a notion that was greatly corroborated by the excessive gaiety with which the whole was accompanied. We cannot hear a void remarking that this conjecture would have been better founded had Sophia lived ten years in the air of Grosvenor Square where young ladies do learn a wonderful knack of rallying and playing with that passion which is a mighty serious thing in woods and grooves a hundred miles distant from London. To say the truth, in discovering the deceit of others, it matters much that our own art be wound up, if I may use the expression, in the same key with theirs. For very artful men sometimes miscarry by fancying others wiser, or in other words greater, names than they really are. As this observation is pretty deep, I will illustrate it by the following short story. Three countrymen were pursuing a Wilshire thief through Brentford. The simplest of them, seeing the Wilshire house, written under a sign, advised his companions to enter it, for there most probably they would find their countrymen. The second, who was wiser, laughed at this simplicity. But the third, who was wiser still, answered, Let us go in, however, for he may think we should not suspect him of going amongst his own countrymen. They accordingly went in and searched the house, and by that means missed overtaking the thief who was at that time but a little way before them, and who, as they all knew but had never once reflected, could not read. The reader will pardon a digression in which so invaluable a secret is communicated, since every gangster will agree how necessary it is to know exactly the play of another in order to countermine him. This will, moreover, afford a reason why the wiser man, as is often seen, is the bubble of the weaker, and why many simple and innocent characters are so generally misunderstood and misrepresented. But what is most material, this will account for the deceit which Sophia put on her politic aunt. Dinner being ended, and the company retired into the garden, Mr. Western, who was thoroughly convinced of the certainty of what his sister had told him, took Mr. Allworthy aside, and very bluntly proposed a match between Sophia and young Mr. Blythel. Mr. Allworthy was not one of those men whose hearts flutter at any unexpected and sudden tidings of worldly profit. His mind was, indeed, tempered with that philosophy which becomes a man and a Christian. He affected no absolute superiority to all pleasure and pain, to all joy and grief, but was not at the same time to be discomposed and ruffled by every accidental blast, by every smile or frown of fortune. He received, therefore, Mr. Western's proposal without any visible emotion, or without any alteration of countenance. He said the alliance was such as he sincerely wished, then launched forth into a very just encomium of the young lady's merit, acknowledged the offer to be advantageous in point of fortune, and, after thanking Mr. Western for the good opinion he had professed of his nephew, concluded that if the young people liked each other he should be very desirous to complete the affair. Western was a little disappointed at Mr. Allworthy's answer which was not so warm as he had expected. He treated the doubt whether the young people might like one another with great contempt, saying that parents were the best judges of proper matches for their children, that for his part he should insist on the most resinent obedience from his daughter, and if any young fellow could refuse such a bed-fellow he was his humble servant and hoped there was no harm done. Allworthy endeavored to soften this resentment by many eulogiums on Sophia, declaring he had no doubt but that Mr. Blythol would very gladly receive the offer. But all was ineffectual. He could obtain no other answer from the squire, but I say no more, I humbly hope there's no harm done, that's all, which words he repeated at least a hundred times before they parted. Allworthy was too well acquainted with his neighbour to be offended at this behaviour, and though he was so averse to the rigor which some parents exercise on their children in the article of marriage, that he had resolved never to force his nephew's inclinations. He was nevertheless much pleased with the prospect of this union, for the whole country resounded the praises of Sophia, and he had himself greatly admired the uncommon endowments of both her mind and person. To which I believe we may add the consideration of her vast fortune which, though he was too sober to be intoxicated with it, he was too sensible to despise. And here, in defiance of all the barking critics in the world, I must and will introduce a digression concerning true wisdom of which Mr. Allworthy was in reality as great a pattern as he was of goodness. True wisdom, then, notwithstanding all which Mr. Hogarth's poor poet may have writ against riches, and in spite of all which any rich, well-fed divine may have preached against pleasure, consists not in the contempt of either of these. A man may have as much wisdom in the possession of an affluent fortune as any beggar in the streets, or may enjoy a handsome wife or a hearty friend, and still remain as wise as any sour, popish recluse who buries all his social faculties and starves his belly while he well lashes his back. To say truth, the wisest man is the likeliest to possess all worldly blessings in an eminent degree, for as that moderation which wisdom prescribes is the surest way to useful wealth, so can it alone qualify us to taste many pleasures. The wise man gratifies every appetite and every passion, while the fool sacrifices all the rest to Paul and satiate one. It may be objected that very wise men have been notoriously avaricious. I answer, not wise in that instance. It may likewise be said that the wisest men have been in their youth immoderately fond of pleasure. I answer, they were not wise then. Wisdom, in short, whose lessons have been represented as so hard to learn by those who never were at her school, only teaches us to extend a simple maxim universally known and followed, even in the lowest life, a little farther than that life carries it. And this is not to buy a too dear a price. Now whoever takes this maxim abroad with him into the grand market of the world, and constantly applies it to honors, to riches, to pleasures, and to every other commodity which that market affords, is, I will venture to affirm, a wise man, and must be so acknowledged in the worldly sense of the word. For he makes the best of bargains, since in reality he purchases everything at the price only of a little trouble, and carries home all the good things I have mentioned, while he keeps his health, his innocence, and his reputation, the common prices which are paid for them by others, entire and to himself. From this moderation, likewise, he learns two other lessons which complete his character. First, never to be intoxicated when he hath made the best bargain, nor dejected when the market is empty, or when its commodities are too dear for his purchase. But I must remember on what subject I am writing, and not trespass too far on the patience of a good-natured critic. Here, therefore, I put an end to the chapter. End of Section 19. Section 20 of Tom Jones This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Rachel Linton, Bristol, UK. Tom Jones by Henry Fielding. Book 6. Containing About Three Weeks. Chapter 4. Containing Sundry Curious Matters As soon as Mr Olworthy returned home, he took Mr Bliffle apart, and after some preface, communicated to him the proposal which had been made by Mr Weston, and at the same time informed him how agreeable this match would be to himself. The charms of Sophia had not made the least impression on Bliffle, not that his heart was pre-engaged, neither was he totally insensible of beauty, or had any aversion to women, but his appetites were by nature so moderate that he was able by philosophy, or by study, or by some other method easily to subdue them, and as to that passion which we have treated of in the first chapter of this book, he had not the least tincture of it in his whole composition. But though he was so entirely free from that mixed passion of which we there treated, and of which the virtues and beauty of Sophia formed so notable an object, yet was he altogether as well furnished with some other passions that promised themselves very full gratification in the young lady's fortune. Such were avarice and ambition, which divided the dominion of his mind between them. He had more than once considered the possession of this fortune as a very desirable thing, and had entertained some distant views concerning it, but his own youth and that of the young lady, and indeed principally a reflection that Mr. Western might marry again and have more children, had restrained him from too hasty or eager a pursuit. This last and most material objection was now in great measure removed as the proposal came from Mr. Western himself. Bliffle therefore, after a very short hesitation, answered Mr. Allworthy that matrimony was a subject on which he had not yet thought, but that he was so sensible of his friendly and fatherly care that he should in all things submit himself to his pleasure. Allworthy was naturally a man of spirit, and his present gravity arose from true wisdom and philosophy, not from any original phlegm in his disposition, for he had possessed much fire in his youth and had married a beautiful woman for love. He was not therefore greatly pleased with this cold answer of his nephew, nor could he help launching forth into the praises of Sophia and expressing some wonder that the heart of a young man should be impregnable to the force of such charms, unless it was guarded by some prior affection. Bliffle assured him he had no such guard and then proceeded to discourse so wisely and religiously on love and marriage that he would have stopped the mouth of a parent much less devoutly inclined than was his uncle. In the end the good man was satisfied that his nephew far from having any objections to Sophia had that esteem for her which in sober and virtuous minds is the sure foundation of friendship and love. And as he doubted not but the lover would in a little time become altogether as agreeable to his mistress, he foresaw great happiness arising to all parties by so proper and desirable a union. With Mr. Bliffle's consent therefore he wrote the next morning to Mr. Western, acquainting him that his nephew had very thankfully and gladly received the proposal and would be ready to wait on the young lady whenever she should be pleased to accept his visit. Western was much pleased with this letter and immediately returned an answer in which without having mentioned a word to his daughter he appointed that very afternoon for opening the scene of courtship. As soon as he had dispatched this messenger he went in quest of his sister whom he found reading and expounding the gazette to pass and supple. To this exposition he was obliged to attend near a quarter an hour though with great violence to his natural impetuosity before he was suffered to speak. At length however he found an opportunity of acquainting the lady that he had business of great consequence to impart to her to which she answered, Brother I am entirely at your service things look so well in the North that I was never in a better humour. The pass and then withdrawing Western acquainted her with all that had passed and desired her to communicate the affair to Sophia which she readily and cheerfully undertook, though perhaps her brother was a little obliged to that agreeable northern aspect which had so delighted her that he heard no comment on his proceedings, for they were certainly somewhat too hasty and violent. Chapter five in which is related what passed between Sophia and her aunt. Sophia was in her chamber reading when her aunt came in. The moment she saw Mrs. Western she shut the book with so much eagerness that the good lady could not for bear asking her what book that was which she seemed so much afraid of showing. Upon my word madam answered Sophia it is a book which I am neither ashamed nor afraid to own I have read. It is the production of a young lady of fashion whose good understanding I think doth honour to her sex and whose good heart is an honour to human nature. Mrs. Western then took up the book and immediately after threw it down saying yes the author is of a very good family but she is not much among people one knows. I have never read it for the best judges say there is not much in it. I dare not madam set up my own opinion says Sophia against the best judges but there appears to me a great deal of human nature in it and in many parts so much true tenderness and delicacy that it hath cost me many a tear. I and do love to cry then says the aunt. I love a tender sensation answered the niece and would pay the price of a tear for it at any time. Well but show me said the aunt what was you reading when I came in. There was something very tender in that I believe and very loving to you blush my dear Sophia. Our child you should read books which would teach you a little hypocrisy which would instruct you how to hide your thoughts a little better. I hope madam answered Sophia I have no thoughts which I ought to be ashamed of discovering. Ashamed? No crazy aunt I don't think you have any thoughts which you ought to be ashamed of and yet child you blushed just now when I mentioned the word loving. Dear Sophie be assured you have not one thought which I am not well acquainted with as well child as the French are with our motions long before we put them in execution. Did you think child because you have been able to impose upon your father that you couldn't pose upon me. Do you imagine I did not know the reason of your overacting all that friendship for Mr. Bluffill yesterday. I have seen a little too much of the world to be so deceived. Nay, nay do not blush again. I tell you it is a passion you need not to be ashamed of. It is a passion I myself approve and have already brought your father into the approbation of it. Indeed I solely consider your inclination for I would always have that gratified if possible though one may sacrifice higher prospects. Come I have news which will delight your very soul. Make me your confident and I will undertake you shall be happy to the very extent of your wishes. La madame says Sophia looking more foolishly than ever she did in her life. I know not what to say. Why madame should you suspect? Nay, no dishonesty returned Mrs. Western. Consider you are speaking to one of your own sex to an aunt and I hope you are convinced you speak to a friend. Consider you are only revealing to me what I know already and what I plainly saw yesterday through that most artful of all disguises which you had put on and which must have deceived anyone who had not perfectly known the world. Lastly consider it is a passion which I highly approve. La madame says Sophia you come upon one so unawares and on a sudden to be sure madame I am not blind and certainly if it be a fault to see all human perfections assembled together. But is it possible my father and you madame can see with my eyes? I tell you answered the aunt we do entirely approve and this very afternoon your father hath appointed for you to receive your lover. My father this afternoon! cries Sophia with the blood starting from her face. Yes child said the aunt this afternoon you know the impitiosity of my brother's temper. I acquainted him with the passion which I first discovered in you that evening when you fainted away in the field. I saw it in your fainting I saw it immediately upon your recovery. I saw it that evening at supper and the next morning at breakfast. You know child I have seen the world. Well I know sooner acquainted my brother but he immediately wanted to propose it to all worthy. He proposed it yesterday all worthy consented as to be sure he must with joy and this afternoon I tell you you are to put on all your best heirs. This afternoon cries Sophia dear aunt you frighten me out of my senses. Oh my dear said the aunt you will soon come to yourself again for he is a charming young fellow that's the truth aunt. Nay I will own Sophia I know none with such perfections so brave and yet so gentle so witty yet so inoffensive so humane so civil so gentle so handsome what signifies his being baseborn when compared with such qualifications as these. Baseborn what do you mean said the aunt. Mr. Bliffle Baseborn. Sophia turned instantly pale at this name and faintly repeated it upon which the aunt cried Mr. Bliffle I Mr. Bliffle of whom else have we been talking. Good heavens answered Sophia ready to sink of Mr. Jones I thought I am sure I know no other who deserves I protest cried the aunt you frighten me in your turn is it Mr. Jones and not Mr. Bliffle who is the object of your affection. Mr. Bliffle repeated Sophia sure it is impossible you can be an earnest if you are I am the most miserable woman alive Mrs. Western now stood a few moments silent while sparks of fiery rage flashed from her eyes at length collecting all her force of voice she thundered forth in the following articulate sounds and is it possible you can think of disgracing your family by allying yourself to a bastard can the blood of the western submit to such contamination if you have not sense sufficient to restrain such monstrous inclinations I thought the pride of our family would have prevented you from giving the least encouragement to so base an affection much less did I imagine you would ever have had the assurance to own it to my face madame answered Sophia trembling what I have said you have extorted from me I do not remember to have ever mentioned the name of Mr. Jones with approbation to anyone before nor should I know had I not conceived he had your approbation whatever were my thoughts of that poor unhappy young man I intended to have carried them with me to the grave to that grave where only now I find I am to seek repose here she sunk down in her chair drowned in her tears and in all the moving silence of unutterable grief presented a spectacle which must have affected almost the hardest heart all this tender sorrow however raised no compassion in her aunt on the contrary she now fell into the most violent rage and I would rather she cried in a most vehement voice follow you to your grave than I would see you disgrace yourself and your family by such a match oh heavens could I have ever suspected that I should live to hear a niece of mine declare a passion for such a fellow you are the first yes miss western you are the first of your name whoever entertained so grovelling a thought a family so noted for the prudence of its women here she ran on a full quarter of an hour till having exhausted her breath rather than her rage she concluded with threatening to go immediately in acquaint her brother Sophia then threw herself at her feet and laying hold of her hands begged her with tears to conceal what she had drawn from her urging the violence of her father's temper and protesting that no inclination of her should ever prevail with her to do anything which might offend him mrs. western stood a moment looking at her and then having recollected herself said that on one consideration only she would keep the secret from her brother and this was that Sophia should promise to entertain mr. bliffle that very afternoon as her lover and to regard him as the person who was to be her husband poor Sophia was too much in her aunt's power to deny her anything positively she was obliged to promise that she would see mr. bliffle and be as civil to him as possible but begged her aunt that the match might not be hurried on she said mr. bliffle was by no means agreeable to her and she hoped her father would be prevailed on not to make her the most wretched of women mrs. western assured her that the match was entirely agreed upon and that nothing could or should prevent it i must own said she i looked on it as a matter of indifference nay perhaps had some scruples about it before which were actually got over by my thinking it highly agreeable to your own inclinations but now i regarded as the most eligible thing in the world nor shall there be if i can prevent it a moment of time lost on the occasion Sophia replied delay at least madam i may expect from both your goodness and my father's surely you will give me time to endeavor to get the better of so strong a disinclination as i have at present to this person the aunt answered she knew too much of the world to be so deceived that as she was sensible another man had her affections she should persuade mr. western to hasten the match as much as possible it would be bad politics indeed added she to protract a siege when the enemy's army is at hand and in danger of relieving it no no Sophie said she as i am convinced you have a violent passion which you can never satisfy with honor i will do all i can to put your honor out of the care of your family for when you are married those matters will belong only to the consideration of your husband i hope child you will always have prudence enough to act as becomes you but if you should not marriage has saved many a woman from ruin Sophia well understood what her aunt meant but did not think proper to make her an answer however she took a resolution to see mr. Bliffle and to behave to him as civilly as she could for on that condition only she obtained a promise from her aunt to keep secret the liking which her ill fortune rather than any scheme of mrs. western had unhappily drawn from her chapter six containing a dialogue between Sophia and mrs. Olner which may in little relieve those tender affections which the foregoing scene may have raised in the mind of a good natured reader mrs. western having obtained that promise from her niece which we have seen in the last chapter withdrew and presently after arrived mrs. Olner she was at work in a neighboring apartment and had been summoned to the keyhole by some vociferation in the preceding dialogue where she had continued during the remaining part of it at her entry into the room she found Sophia standing motionless with the tears trickling from her eyes upon which she immediately ordered a proper quantity of tears into her own eyes and then began oh Gemini my dear lady what is the matter nothing cry Sophia nothing oh dear madame answers honor you must not tell me that when your ladyship is in this taking and when there has been such a preamble between your ladyship and madame western don't tease me cry Sophia I tell you nothing is the matter good heavens why was I born nay madame says mrs. Olner you shall never persuade me that your ladyship can lament yourself so for nothing to be sure I am but a servant but to be sure I have been always faithful to your ladyship and to be sure I would serve your ladyship with my life my dear honor says Sophia it is not in my power to be of any service to me I am irretrievably undone heaven forbid answered the waiting woman that if I can't be of any service to you pray tell me madame it will be some comfort to me to know pray dear madame tell me what's the matter my father cries Sophia is going to marry me to a man I both despise and hate oh dear man answered the other who is this wicked man for to be sure he is very bad her your ladyship would not despise him his name is poisoned to my tongue replied Sophia that will know it too soon indeed to confess the truth she knew it already and therefore was not very inquisitive as to that point she then proceeded thus I don't pretend to give your ladyship advice whereof your ladyship knows much better than I can pretend to be a better servant but if I can't no father in England should marry me against my consent and to be sure the squire is so good that if he did but know your ladyship despises and hates the young man to be sure you would not desire to marry him and if your ladyship would but give me leave to tell my master so to be sure it would be more proper to come from your own mouth but as your ladyship does not care to foul your tongue with his nasty name you are mistaken honour says Sophia my father was determined before he ever thought fit to mention it to me more shame for him cries honour you are to go to bed to him and not master and though a man may be a very proper man yet every woman may think him handsome alike I am sure my master would never act in this manner of his own head I wish some people would trouble themselves only with what belongs to them they would not I believe like to be served so if it was their own case for though I am a maid I can easily believe us how all men are not equally agreeable and what signifies your ladyship having so great a fortune if you can't please yourself with a man you think most hansomest well I say nothing but to be sure it is a pity some folks have not been better born nay as for that matter I should not mind it myself but then there's not so much money and what of that your ladyship have money enough for both and where can your ladyship bestow your fortune better for to be sure everyone must allow that he is the most hansomest charming his finest tallest properest man in the world what do you mean by running on in this manner to me cries Sophia with a very grave countenance have I ever given any encouragement for these liberties may madam I ask pardon I meant no harm answered she but to be sure the poor gentleman has run in my head ever since I saw him this morning to be sure if your ladyship had but seen him just now you must have pitied him poor gentleman I wish is some misfortune has not happened to him for he has been walking about with his arms across and looking so melancholy all this morning I vow and protest it made me almost cry to see him to see whom says Sophia poor Mr Jones answered honor see him why where did you see him Christ Sophia by the canal man says honor there he had been walking all this morning at last there he laid himself down I believe he lies there still to be sure if it had not been for my modesty being a maid as I am I should have gone and spoke to him do ma'am let me go and see only for a fancy whether he is there still poo cry Sophia there no no what should he do there he is gone before this time to be sure besides why what why should you go to see besides I want you for something else go fetch me my hat and gloves I shall walk with my aunt in the grove before dinner honor did immediately as she was bid and Sophia put her hat on when looking in the glass she fancied the ribbon with which her hat was tied did not become her and so sent her maid back again for a ribbon of a different color and then giving Mrs honor repeated charges not to leave her work on any account as she said it was in violent haste and must be finished that very day she muttered something more about going to the grove and then salid out the contrary way and walked as fast as her tender trembling limbs would carry her directly towards the canal jones had been there as mrs honor had told her he had indeed spent two hours there that morning in melancholy contemplation on his Sophia and had gone out from the garden at one door the moment she entered it at another so that those unlucky minutes which had been spent in changing the ribbons had prevented the lovers from meeting at this time a most unfortunate accident from which my fair readers will not fail to draw a very wholesome lesson and here I strictly forbid all male critics to intermeddle with a circumstance which I have recounted only for the sake of the ladies and upon which they only are at liberty to comment end of section 20